Forces of Attraction and Repulsion

Major Untaaura Verratoa had what most would consider a full daily docket.

She was out of her bunk at 0430, which left enough time for an hour of PT, then fifteen minutes each of sonic shower, chow, and dress before another fifteen to get her to her security station at 0630. Once there, about an hour and a half sort out any sad sacks who had the misfortune to land in her brig and then deal with whatever busy work landed on her desk. An hour for joint commands meeting, two hours for patrol, 30 minutes for mid-day chow, and then about an hour after chow that was set aside for whatever minor fires she had to put out or random bullshit she had to muck out.

Today, that bullshit was in the form of a MSE unit, that she was forced to carry to the repair depot herself. A MSE unit that, by her estimation, had gone out of order three times now - each time with a bad motivator. And since it happened precisely at the time that every junior officer or patrol trooper was tending to something actually important, the onerous task of taking this metal piece of shit to the depot fell on her. She didn't ask someone to do anything she wasn't willing and able to do herself, but she damn-well didn't have to like it. Despite how good the cut of your uniform looked, people didn't give a wide berth for someone carrying a bum mouse droid with them.

The shop was its usual state of mess. Metal shavings finding convenient corners to gather in. The air always had a slight sense of closeness to it, a little too warm for comfort, which caused it to hold humidity and a persistent bouquet somewhere between old lubricant grease, inert-stage coaxium, and sickly-sweet coolant funk. Something unfamiliar to her played on the audio net, a little too dancy for her taste.

Finally with a counter to relieve her of her burden, Untaaura set the MSE unit up top with a half-disdainful clatter. She couldn't see any of the usuals within sight of the front desk, so the Major tapped the bell. With a ding, the tiny droid unfolded itself under her claw tip, and looked up at her.

"Welcome to the Spire Two Repair Depot. Do you have a work order number?"

Untaaura gave the MSE a sharp rap with her knuckles.

"No tjicket. Motjivatorr'ss out. Agajin.", she added, pointedly.

"Oh I'm sorry to hear that!" the droid began spooling through its de-escalation subroutine as small manipulator arms began to work at the paneling leading to the tiny compartment that housed the MSE's brain. Retrieving a data wafer, the greeter droid quickly scanned it. "Yes, I see that you have had two previous motivator servicings on this unit..." it suddenly swiveled its oculus to Untaaura and quickly scanned her face, "...Major Verratoa. I will be glad to assign you a work order as well as a service technician to fix this problem!"

With that, the "bell" droid collapsed back into a puck-shaped disc, righted itself on it's wheel edge, and careened off the counter, wheeling down the corridor beyond.

Untaaura watched it go with a muttered "Damn drrojidss" under her breath. Hurry Up and Fucking Wait. The true Marine motto.

And with that, we can certainly deduce that there were ancient civilizations that created great, star-faring empires that spanned star systems before the advent of the hyperlanes. The only thing that arises from that though, is what sort of help did these empires have? Because surely they couldn't have done such exploring without help! There's simply no way. And if we acknowledge and understand that, then there has to be only one logical conclusion we can reach. And I guess I'm not outright saying that it's the Celestials, but... who knows?


She rounded a corner, heading from one of the many service corridors out into the open of Spire 2. Her commpad was switched off then, as she ended the episode of Archaic Astronauts she'd been watching before it could start in on the ending credits. With a quick swipe of her thumb, she shut the 'pad off and stuffed it into a back pocket.

Her eyes lifted, and she spotted a diminutive figure waiting at the service desk. Being on service duty was always an 'adventure', and it was always the one day of the week that she both dreaded and anticipated. It could be a ghost town, or it could be an absolute tipyipshit operation.

Except, she'd already had her one day yesterday. There had been a callout, and she had been picked to fill the gap. So when it came down to it, she wasn't even supposed to be here today.

"Oh hey! Can I... "

The body turned to look at her, and Tamera slowed her pace, not expecting the face that met her.

"Major Verratoa... surprised to see you... ?"

There was a moment of mild panic, as she wondered if she had managed to get herself into some sort of trouble for... something? Had she done anything, though? Her mind raced to backtrack, and after another few moments she mostly satisfied herself with the fact that no, she'd not done anything to warrant the Major's critical eye. Well, as of late, at least.

Untaaura was used to people having her at a disadvantage. She was the senior officer of the Jaani'saari, which meant that she was a part of the senior command at Jovan. That, and to be frank, she had a distinctive face. She'd definitely heard a few whispers of Major Scarface when someone thought that she couldn't hear it. So she wasn't shocked when the service tech knew her on sight.

She gave a curt nod and paused, catching something familiar about the face. Not one she'd seen in person, but one of the hundreds that had crossed her desk for whatever reason or other. Her investigative mind tried to fast forward sift through a mountain of past mentions and reports. A name floated out of the soup, and she tried it on.

"jYourr name'ss Beck, rrjight?"

Human. Late 30's to early 40's maybe. Brunette hair, fair features, glasses. Cute smile...no that was a grimace. Well, that was also an expected reaction to interacting with the Marines.

"Ah, yes Ma'am," she got out.

Reaching up, Tamera adjusted her glasses before sending both hands down to swipe across her work shirt in a bizarre effort to clean any lingering grease or grime. Of course there was none, but it was a habit that was difficult to break.

"What can I do for you?"

The Major gave two claw raps against the durasteel shell of the defunct MSE unit.

"Motjivatorr'ss sshot. That'ss the thjirrd one thjiss thjing'ss popped jin ssjix monthss."

Untaaura's posture never really signaled much relaxation in general. Even her casual stance was close enough to parade rest to think that she could spring into action at a moment. Her words functioned the same way. They were clipped and direct, pushing to the heart of the matter.

"jI don't have tjime to keep brrjingjing thjiss thjing back herre. jIf jit can't be fjixed forr rreal thjiss tjime, jI need to rrequjissjitjion one frrom ssuppljy."

Moving forward then, Tamera sidled up to the counter and reached for the cute, little droid. Pulling it close, she depressed a button on the underside. the upper shell gave a little pop, and the brunette lifted it up and off to expose the innards.

"Poor thing," she practically cooed to it.

"I think I remember reading a report about this guy from some of the other attendants," she went on, addressing the Major this time. Fingers poked into the wiring, gently moving them about in a search for the motivator bank.

"Something about a problem MSE that just kept faulting out and going through motivators like a Rodian teen going through jungle glob tea."

Carefully, she grasped the spent motivator between two fingers, and reaching in with her free hand, depressed a small release tab. A click, and the motivator came free.

She held it up then, inspecting the connector pins. Everything looked ok, but there was still one more test to perform, and she lifted it up to give it a little sniff.

"Oof! Yup! Burnt right up."

It was always a particular scent when a piece of electronics burned itself up. The offending motivator was dropped on the counter, and Tamera once more went to inspect the insides. A few more minutes passed, and she frowned.

"Looks like you've got a ground that's frying the motivator... oh... about every two weeks, I bet?"

The way that Beck handled the MSE unit definitely spoke to her expertise. There was no hesitation, and she went right to it. Untaaura found herself standing on her tip-toes as she angled for a better view of the work. If she could figure out how to get to the bottom of this and to fix it herself, she wouldn't have to spend her time heading to the depot the next time one crapped out. Of course, it was a little weird that she talked to the thing like it was a pet or a cub, but from the look of this place it didn't look like there was a lot of other social engagement to be had.

"Therre werre thrree burrnoutss," Untaaura recalled what she could about the service log, "but it had pathjing rrecaljibrratjion whjich was...yeah. jYou'rre rrjight. Jusst about everrjy two weekss.

Droids were not a training speciality for Untaaura. She knew roughly how they worked, and how to do basic field work on a few common models that might be damaged on the battlefield, but slapping a strut onto an astromech didn't take a lot of thinking.

"Sso jyou'rre ssajyjing that'ss what'ss caussjing all of thjiss?"

"Oh for sure!"

She spoke with the sort of excitement that any mechanic would, when having found the root cause of the problem.

"Poor little man was shorting out his motivators without even thinking."

And like any over-excited master-of-whatever, Tamera began to point out all of the different interior parts for the Major.

"See that right there? That's the CAN device. It communicates with the servo drivers and tells them what to do. But right here," a finger moved over to rest against another small bank of driverchips, "... this is where the sensor data is filtered. It's like a little brain that only focuses one thing. And that one thing is the directions it needs to navigate around obstacles."

She pulled her hand free then, giving the disassembled MSE a light pat.

"Little man kept having his marbles scrambled, then burned out."

Turning a smile to the Major then, Tamera tapped her temple with her index finger.

"I'll make sure your guy here gets properly fixed up."

Watching Beck talk about the poor little man was the most gleefully absurd thing she'd seen in a week, and it was hitting her with zero warning. The surprise attack broke Untaaura's defenses.

"heh..."

It was a breath on its way out that got caught and formed into a laugh, barely audible. Loud enough to Untaaura in her own ear, which gave a surprised twitch. The Major could feel the corners of her mouth turning up, and she stowed that away just as quickly.

Beck was looking at her now. Did she hear it? Did she see it? The possibilities were flying through her head, when she realized that Beck had said something that probably should be replied to about two seconds ago.

"Ssorrrjy. Ah, good."

The Major gave a curt nod, which hid a nervous swallow just in time. When she looked at Beck again, she was batten down once more.

"Thank jyou, Beck."

Damage report was coming in hot. It wasn't the corny names and the cub voice. Not really. It was definitely some of that, but the smell of her sweat mixed with the engine grease. The way that her glasses looked like they might fall off her nose if she leaned too far over the droid. Part of that mix was obvious, but the other was more of a memory than a smell. In that smell, she was 15 again and spending her academic break working in Kanrrauui's snowspeeder garage. That was a memory that shouldn't be sexy but now she was thinking about it because Beck was making her think about it and so it was.

Suddenly, Untaaura felt like an Academy cadet once again, standing at attention before the barracks commandant, and waiting to be dismissed. Hopefully she would be soon, since Untaaura wasn't sure if she could hide from Beck's scrutiny.

Goddess above and below, that man had a lot of pillows! I was not going to stick around and ask the dude why he had so many all over his office. It had taken a lot of negotiating to get this far with the Guild Master. It wasn't normal for a non-guildie like me to have the opportunity to drop off a bounty at a regional office but I had managed to sweet talk the old man into taking the body, and had given up a big percentage of the bounty for it. To say the Bounty Hunters guild didn't like me would be putting it lightly. Fook had spared no details when he told me what a glorious fuckup I was being. So I was taking my leftover credits and getting the fuck out of there before they changed their minds or I managed to screw things up and stick my foot in my mouth like I always do.

Still, dropping off on Jovan might build some goodwill with the Guild. Probably not, but it couldn't hurt. Also meant I could stop in and see Beck while I'm on this giant spinning trashcan. I hadn't wandered far from the station in awhile. There was decent work to do out here. Sheegoth wasn't happy about it but the old dragon could sit in syrup for all I care. I didn't always get to stay the night or spend any significant time with her, but I chiseled what I could between jobs. Price of fuel these days was making my overhead a fucking nightmare and taking any time off was less gas in the tank.

But hey, I have credits now, and I've never been a saver; and I wasn't going to start now. If Beck was free then we were going to hit one of those fancy-shmancy places on the top floor of the promenade. It was still a working day so I hadn't had a chance to change out of the armor, but it was shiny from a fresh coat of sealant and polish. I stomped my way down to her shop. If I'm wearing the armor then people are going to fucking hear me coming and going. Gotta build that rep. The door swished open and I stepped through with all of the almost six feet of shiny black armor plates and opaque mask that I know just screams badass and mysterious. Just what the ladies like.

I stopped in my tracks for a second, frozen in place. There's Beck. Standing at the counter. It took a few seconds for me to notice the droid in her hands and the customer at the counter. Shit. Not a customer. Looked like a security officer. It was starting to look like a day of dealing with people who really don't like me. As far as security officers go, at least this one wasn't hard on the eyes. I'm really not into Cizeracks but I have to admit this one wasn't so bad looking from behind. I had a soft spot in my soul for short stacks. Not as much as mousy brunettes, but close. Shit, she's missing a chunk of her ear. No cosmetic surgery or prosthetic either. That's hardcore.

Beck had looked up at me, and I waved back and moved along the counter to one of the empty service stations. Out of the way, but where I could get a better look at my big booty queen and her customer. The face matched the ear. Shit. I really want to ask how she got those scars, but she was talking to Beck and seemed really focused on the conversation. I'll keep it to myself for now, but I swear to the Goddess I will explode if I do not get the chance to ask. Thankfully I had mastered the art of nonchalantly leaning against things. I would look a lot cooler if I had all my blasters, grenades, and knives but nooooo I wasn't allowed to have those on the station. Goddess. These people have no idea how important the full kit is for completing this fashion choice. Walking around in battleworn armor was a lot less cool without a blaster at your side. Now I just look like a guy who's accident prone but really good at repairing his armor.

Shit. I probably look like a chump.

"Ok so," Tamera waved away the more boring particulars that she'd initially intended to talk about. The Major was already looking like she was about to go cross-eyed.

It was the clomping footsteps that sealed the deal though, and Beck hurried into her end-bit spiel.

"Yeah, it's just a ground, you know?"

A furtive look to Abby, then back to the Major.

"Gets 'em every time. I'll make sure the CAN device is properly rewired and your motivator isn't turned on its' head, yeah?"

"jYeah-jyess." Untaaura corrected, as the sound of servomotors and heavy footfalls pricked at her good ear, causing her to pivot slightly to acknowledge the person in powered armor. She'd never crossed paths with this one, but the name had dropped on her desk enough times for Untaaura to clock him as Abaddon. A few fights, some property destruction, a couple of other petty violations. Not the worst of the scum, but also not someone she'd trust to stay within the lines.

What was he doing here with Beck? A naturally investigative and pessimistic mind peered down every warren of ill possibility. Everything from installing black-market armor upgrades to armed robbery. Maybe they knew each other. Absolutely not. She could just tell about Beck, she was not the kind of woman who let scumbags darken her door.

Pivoting from a mild dip into paranoia, Untaaura returned to Beck, not about to have some skug-licker interrupt her.

"Sso, when jit'ss done, jyou'll brrjing jit to mjy sstatjion? Orr jI could gjive jyou mjy frrequencjy."

Both of those options sounded like perfectly reasonable things to ask or suggest, but to Untaaura hearing her own voice they sounded suspect as fuck. Did she just invite Beck to her place and offer her comm digits? Untaaura bit the inside of her cheek, hoping a little bit of pain might steer her out of the drift.

I couldn't help myself. I waved when the good little soldier girl looked over at me. Hey. It was just a wave. I wasn't asking her out or anything. She's not my type, remember? It was going to take some getting used to... whatever it was Beck and I are now. We never said anything about being exclusive but it felt rude to flirt with someone else right in front of her. But hey, Beck had to turn her back at some point, right? I mean, like to go get a part or find some paperwork? Maybe I'd find an opening in here somewhere. Gotta ask about those kickass scars. Beck would probably say it was rude. Oh damn, if she walks away I'm gonna want to be looking at that badonkadank.

Fuck.

My attention was immediately wandering around the shop. There was a nice picture of the team on the wall; a grouchy, old looking man with a bunch of ladies surrounding him with big smiles on their faces. I recognized the Herglic from when I came to the shop last time, and I knew the Codru-Ji from the holonet. I wondered if Beck really knew the four-armed engineer. Stuff I've read on the 'net would curl your toenails. I haven't done any Black Net jobs in a long time. Only when I've been really desperate for coin; but I look every once in awhile and there's quite a hefty sum on that girl's head on the Black Market. A tempting amount of credits. I'm crazy, but I'm not crazy enough to ever try to grab a bounty on Jovan fucking Station. This little cutie here would have me behind bars before I could say "Whoops Sorry, my bad."

"For the right price she can gift wrap it, too..."

Heh. I'm funny as shit.

Making an admittedly funny looking face, Beck stared at Abby for a few seconds. And then a shake of her head as she smiled and returned her attentions to the Major.

"I'll just ping your office comm," words spoken almost breezily as she turned the burned-out motivator over in her hand.

"Give me a few hours and your little man will be right as Kaminoan rain."

Internally however, Tamera couldn't even begin to understand the circumstances that she now found herself in. Stuck in the middle between two Cizeri women who wore their scars on the outside in magnificent fashion??? Who even had that sort of thing happen to them?!?!

Trouble splashed cold water on the moment as Abaddon's synthetically-scrubbed voice piped up with a joke no one asked for. Untaaura heel-pivoted, her ear and stump angling slightly back.

"jI wassn't asskjing jyou. jIf that wass a joke, jyou mjight want to jinsstall a new vox fjilterr. jIt ssoundss sstale."

Before the Major could target lock, Beck's voice broke the tension as she replied back. Untaaura shifted her feet back.

"Ssurre." The word seemed to come out different. It wasn't angular and clipped like her usual manner of speaking. It wasn't relaxed, but it wasn't the tone that had lashed Abaddon the moment before.

"jI'll be wajitjing forr jyourr call, Beck."

Abaddon aside, it was the best window for a tactical retreat that she had, and Untaaura took it and dusted off, but not before her shoulder made contact with Abaddon in a way that was probably not an accident.

Once well outside of the repair depot and out of earshot, Untaaura deflated with a sigh and leaned against the bulkhead, letting the cool of the metal offset the sudden flush of the shaved back part of her head.

"Sstupjid, sstupjid, sstupjid" she berated herself in a whisper before quickly putting herself back together again.

Excuse. Me. What?

I began running a diagnostic immediately. Sounded fine to me from in here, but the armor did take a beating on a regular basis. So it could be faulty. And then she ran into me on the way out the door, and everything clicked in my mind. She wasn't trying to drop some advice. She was being an asshole. Well, you better buckle up sugar tits. Two can play that game.

Turning to Beck I pressed two gloved fingertips to the forehead region of my helmet and dragged them downward to my vision line. Angry eyebrows emote engaged. Turning aside I marched right up to that door before it could even close behind her, took the most heroic standing pose I could think of, and pointed at the retreating back of the security officer.

"Oh yeah!? I like your scars you big, stupid butthole."

She turned the corner and was gone, so I went back inside to Beck.

"Showed her."

Her jaw dropped as Abby turned back to her after delivering her scorching zinger, and Tamera finally set the motivator on the counter.

"Abby," her voice dipped to a low tone as she put her hands on her hips. Her comm beeped, but she ignored it.

"... you're not jealous, are you?"

"Jealous, of that little goblin? Nah. I could take her in a fight for sure. Ninety percent sure."

I definitely thought she was kind of cute in a short stack kind of way, but I was definitely one hundred percent not intimidated by her or felt that she was better than me in any way. Nothing to be jealous of. I can't for the life of me figure out what her deal was. She was just so rude and shit. I didn't do nothing to her. I've been on my best behavior. Better than I ever behaved in school, church, or family dinner. If she wasn't some hoighty toighty security officer that could get me permanently tossed off this trash can I would have followed her and given her a piece of my mind.

Shit. I kind of want to fight her now.

"What was her deal, anyway? Did you see her shoulder check me? Dumb idiot. She's gonna have a hell of a bruise." I gave my chest plate a solid knock-knock to prove it's toughness. Ain't nothing getting through this armor. Well, except for all those blaster shots that penetrated it and have since been patched up. You can barely see the damage!

It was actually incredibly adorable, hearing that synthesized vox scrambler speak, when she was already imagining the answer in Ori's voice. Abby was Abby, she had come to realize rather quickly, but there were also times that the brunette couldn't help but see the woman beneath the armor no matter what.

Now though, she was with Abby.

"She was just here to get a mouse droid fixed. Nothing sinister, I promise."

Moving closer, she couldn't help but further inspect the body armor, frowning here and there, as a finger traced along the pivot lines.

"It's the Major, after all. Not anyone who's interested in anything but work and sour faces."

"The Major, huh? Cool name. She needs to chill out."

The Major sounded like the nickname of a man the size of a cliff with an attitude that could tear starships in half. Not that little cutie.

"Pssh I'm not worried. I know you can handle yourself just fine. I bet you could take her in a fight. I've felt your muscles, you little beefcake."

My sensors softly blipped to indicate tactile connection. I finally tore his eyes from the door and looked down to see Beck running her finger along the armor. That's right baby. I'm big and black and hard all over. My grabbers wasted no time reaching for her waist and pulling her closer.

"Got any plans after work? I got paid today and I wanted to take you out to dinner."

"Oh!"

She'd not expected the grab and the pull, but she certainly didn't really fight it, either.

She had only been wanting to inspect Abby's armor, to make sure there weren't any micro-fractures or anything (not like she could really see them without some sort of microscope), but it was the words of wanting to take her for food that arrested her attention fully, and Tamera bit her lip in suddenly serious though.

Food. Delicious dinner. A treat with a woman who thought she was worth spending time with.

"A dinner with you?"

And in that moment, she reached up to give Abby's helmet a little tap with a fingernail, right in the middle of the forehead.

"I want to go there," she grinned.

"Hell yeah a dinner with me."

I have never been much of a dinner date kind of guy. I don't know what I'm doing and it's terrifying, but I'm trying my best. I used to pick up girls in bars. Well, I tried to pick up girls in bars. Usually I didn't get anywhere, but every once in awhile I would be successful. I certainly did not contact them the next day. Abaddon is a one and done kind of guy. I've never stayed in any one place for long. Too many targets on my back, and every minute I'm docked is more time for mother to find me. The next thug she sends to bring me in probably won't be as chill as Fook, and I'm not in the mood to either bury some rookie merc or hear a lecture.

But with Beck I just can't stop coming back. Hopefully mother doesn't find me here. I don't want to think what I would do to her if she ruined what I had here on Jovan.

"You want to go to my helmet? I mean, you can wear it sometime if you want."

An impish smile, and Tamera rolled her eyes while gently pushing back from Abby.

"I was making a bad joke about going to dinner with you," she grinned.

At that moment, a protocol droid trundled out from a service hallway holding a box.

Many pardons, Ms. Beck! I was told that you needed a new motivator?

And suddenly work called her right back, and she extricated herself from Abby's hold. She turned on her heel, and let out a startled yelp. It was an involuntary reaction. Even though she'd dealt with the CZ droid many times, the damn thing never failed to startle that absolute mess out of her. Something about how it looked... it was just creepy.

"Thanks, Zip," she ground out while snatching the flimsy packing box from the droid's hands. In the next motion she shooed the offending automaton away.

"Go back to your order sheets, now."

The sooner that it left, the happier she would be.

"Holy shit. That thing looks like it eats babies..."

Like, how did something like that ever make it off a production line? It was haunting to look upon, and I don't normally use fancy words like that. Because if I do, then Mother won. No. Stop. You're not here to think about Mother. You came here for a reason and so far you've been dancing around what you really want to say. I can do this. I can be brave, I think...

"I was thinking we could check out that Corellian-Cizerack fusion place; Coronet Cluster. You know, get cleaned up and dress nice. No armor. Make a big night of it. You and me me. Abaddon can stay home..."

Oh goddess, kill me now. My anxiety was going to make my heart explode.

The temptation to turn back up at the depot in an hour sharp was strong. For one, Untaaura was punctual to a fault. That was half due to being a Marine, but she'd always been a stickler about time in general. Uncle Aiirrkaano always called her "Miss Serious." She'd never left the house without a chrono on her wrist. This would be no different, other than the Ronto in the room. Rrou Beck was throwing a spanner into her sense of temporal discipline. Showing up an hour sharp? If she didn't already know that something was up before, that would do it. It would burn her good escape that she'd made. Instead, she'd need to bend the rules a little.

She'd show up late.

But how late? A quarter after might seem even more suspicious than showing up on time. Someone who knew it was creepy to return on the dot, but also was premeditated enough to account for that. No, it would need to be something random, like eleven after. That could happen to anyone, right?

The very idea that Untaaura was even thinking about this finally caught up with her with the force of a mag-lev train. There had been no shortage of beautiful women to cross her path since she'd returned from Thalassia, so it wasn't as if she didn't know that the attraction was there. But this wasn't a feeling that was completely sexual. There was something goofy and unconventional about Beck in their little encounter that left her feeling off guard (in a good way). Untaaura hadn't felt anything like that in a long time. She wasn't even sure if she could anymore. This was damned inconvenient, and her first instinct was to just bottle up the feeling and throw it in the vault. That wasn't exactly easy to do, though...


When she finally got the nerve to break her afternoon routine, Untaaura arrived at the completely-casual time of two hours and 28 minutes after. That seemed completely unintended. She rounded the door into the depot, doffing her cap crisply as she approached the counter. In plain view was her familiar security-issue MSE unit. Next to it was not the person she was looking for. Swallowing her disappointment, Untaaura kept herself cool.

"jIss that mjy MSE unjit?"

"Hmm?" Gradoona chirped, looking up from her holoromance novel. "Ooh, um, yepper it is. Taam took care of that one befoore headin' ouut."

The Herglic haumed a little as she stood up, padding over to the counter where she hoisted the droid with one hand and eased it over.

"If ya wanna yaknoo take it foor a few paaces in here, to make suure aall the wires are saaldered right, be my guest."

"No, that's fine." Untaaura demurred, her previous ire at the lack of quality repairs suddenly forgotten. She held the mouse droid with detachment, almost like it was an incidental to the reason she was here.

"jIss Beck herre?"

"Naah, she was ouutta here abouut an houur agoo." Gradoona had settled back into her seat and had resumed scrolling through her novel, half-engaged in the conversation. Suddenly, she paused mid-scroll, glancing up.

"Why ya aaskin?" The vibe Gradoona had always gotten from Major Scarface was that she was button down and all business. Probably not a good thing to have her following up on you. Maybe she was asking out of concern for Tam, but Gradoona's first reason for asking was the sign of a gossip junkie looking to score.

"jI jusst wanted to assk herr about ssomethjing we'd been talkjing about." Untaaura tried not to grimace. It was a complete nothing answer, she hadn't planned on this contingency. Either way, she wasn't here.

"Tell herr thankss." the Marine added somewhat hastily, giving the MSE a little shake to remind herself she was still holding it so that she would stop doing that. She eased the mouse droid to the ground, started it up, and keyed the droid into follow mode. She took a tidy few steps towards the exit, and then suddenly complicated her retreat once more.

"jYou wouldn't have anjy jidea about wherre sshe went afterr worrk, would jyou?"

Untaaura turned back to face the Herglic, leaning as casually as she could against the bulkhead corner, allowing her to bleed nervous energy out of her tail sight unseen around the bend.

"Praabably either her quaarters oor the greasiest spoon aan the caancourse."

She click-whistled a laugh, thumbing to another page.

"Ya waant me to ping 'er?"

"No." Untaaura replied, maybe a little too sharply. She shook her head and tried on a reassuring smile. It didn't feel convincing, who knows how it looked.

"No. That'ss fjine. jI'll fjind herr laterr."

Before she had a chance to say anything else wrong, Untaaura left without a goodbye. Alone with the mouse droid, Untaaura gave a sigh.

"jYou pjicked one hell of a tjime to brreak down...ljittle man."

She began the walk back to headquarters. To Beck's credit, Little Man pathed straight as an arrow, like an obedient pet. Arriving back, Untaaura stowed the droid on its charging stand, and checked in with her staff. The pulse of the room indicated a pretty slow day. Two arrests for publix intoxication. One for assault. A few citations for improper shipping clearances and permits. A half dozen protestors covering something or other. In other words - relative harmony. Nobody was seriously causing enough trouble to warrant anything more than business as usual. Just how she liked things.

Sergeant Fangarn was at the front desk tonight. The Ishi Tib made small talk to anyone who wasn't slow enough to avoid it. Untaaura leaned into it, finding herself absent-mindedly talking about the weather on Carshoulis to upcoming station arrivals to some Twi'lek HoloNet influencer who was selling some kind of bullshit quack wellness plan. All of it was perfect cover so that Untaaura could casually glance at the security feeds over his shoulder. They covered just about all of the business-zoned concourse. If Beck didn't beeline it to her quarters after this, maybe she'd be somewhere out there?

* * *

Coronet Cluster was the sort of place that she would always send hungry side-eyes to. Except, she would never go since she didn't have someone to go with. And she certainly never opted for the delivery option since that screamed lonely homebody. Instead, she generally stuck with her greasy spoons and docking-bay style quick-food that was always so delicious, yet so so so bad for a body.

But Coronet Cluster? So much swank.

And swank like that called for looking hip. Looking good. Looking like they were put together and not a mess of junk food, red-eyes, and pants suits held together with overtaxed hairbands and used mechanic's tape. She was barely a human, but she made attempts, at least. She had found a pair of trousers that hugged her lower half in such a way that gave her more of a shape than anything she normally wore on any given day, and finding tops to go with was easy enough.

While Abby had gone off to take care of whatever business it was that Abby did, Beck had finished up her shift - Little Man had taken a bit of extra care to make sure he was ship-shape for the Major - and had breezily ducked out when 'Doona showed up to relieve her.




Stepping out from the lift, Beck paused only just enough to half-scowl while stepping aside so the others behind her could disgorge out to the concourse.

Her hair had been put up into a strange amalgamation of a messy-ish half-bun, held with two foodsticks (because she didn't have anything else). A canvas low-cut jacket over a red linen button-up with a subtle voorpak pattern, and her beloved trousers. These ones were tan, which were close enough in color to the jacket to match - sort of. It was an unassuming sort of outfit, but for her it was almost extravagant. She'd even made sure to wear a necklace! Ok, it was a silly handmade mini-wrench pendant that little Musaraki had made her back on Nar Shaddaa, but it meant a lot to her, and so that was why she wore it now.

The glittering, new jewel in Jovan's culinary crown shown brightly in the form of a soft-light sign, and Tamera took a deep breath.

It would be a lie to say that she was excited to spend this meal with Ori.

With a small grin to herself, she started forward, ready for delicious food and even better company.

Naturally, I fucked off back to my ship as fast as I could. My heart was exploding in my chest. Shit, there was no reason to be so worked up. It was just a dinner date. I've faced so much worse. I've had blaster fights over rooftops where I was outnumbered ten to one, and nearly died. That's a cake walk. I know how it feels to be shot, stabbed, burned. I know pain. I know how my blasters feel as they rock in my arms. I know that jarring, second-hand sensation of punching out some guy's teeth with my gauntlets. I know how much force it takes to break fingers. I know to walk in full body armor when you are broken and bleeding inside. It's a shell that holds you up. But taking a cute lady out for dinner? Shit. I can count on one hand how many times I've done that before.

It's once. And it was a lunch we didn't even get to eat!

Beck was going to be off in a few hours and I needed to get ready. It was not going to be nearly enough time. The Firespray was not exactly a spacious model. I was never going to fit a grav-table in here no matter how cool they are and how much I want one. I still managed to unearth a lot of clothing I had stashed in the corners. Most of them had never been worn. Just things I had picked up here and there that I thought looked nice. The beauty of not having a tail is that I can wear most humanoid clothing without having to make any adjustments. I mean, come on. Look at me. I'm definitely not the type that can even scissor paper in a straight line. I'm sure as hell not cutting and sewing my own clothes. If I hadn't lost it in a fight, I would have had my tail removed just for convenience.

Every screen and holo-projector was switched on and filled with images full from the Holonet of current fashion trends or advice columns on how to dress nice. And it was a big fucking waste of time, because I had the fashion sense of a teenage boy and did not have the wardrobe to even remotely fit these styles. The panic was really starting to build up. Random pieces thrown together as I posed in front of the mirror I usually use to check for armor damage and missing polish. Makeup? No. I'm not even going to try. Not my thing. Something cute, maybe? I think I have a skirt around here somewhere. Maybe even a dress. Oh goddess, I threw up in my mouth a little bit. Why do I have so many big belts, small vests, and weird hats?

I don't want to look cute. I want to look HOT. I'm not sure how to do that. I usually go for badass, and the armor does that for itself. Shut up, Abaddon! I can hear you over there in the corner. Say one more thing and I swear to the goddesses above and below that I will bury you.

Time's up. I had been spinning my jets for hours. The playlist of Blasterwave Cybercore music had run out awhile ago and I never noticed. Strappy pants, a staple of my life; my red and yellow boots, a red and black half shirt that showed off plenty of waist and scars, and the smallest half-jacket I had. I let my mohawk go limp over the earless side of my face and took a comb to fluff my good ear. And sure, fingerless gloves. I didn't like having naked hands. It felt very weird after so much time spent moving in the armor. It was a punkcore kind of look, but it was clean and presentable. Probably the best I had on short notice. We weren't going to dinner with my mother's business partners. This should do it for the Coronet Cluster. It was nice, but it wasn't nice nice.

After properly locking down the ship, and giving Abaddon the rules for being home alone, I set off for the promenade. It wasn't the first time I had been on Jovan without my armor on, but it still felt very naked. Vulnerable. Anyone could recognize me out here. Every felinoid shape that stepped out from a shop or around a corner was suddenly my Mother coming for me. I stuck my fingertips in my tiny pockets and stared straight ahead. I would feel better if I had some kind of weapon on me, but security was pretty explicit in that I was absolutely banned from that sort of thing and I was not going to get myself thrown off the station on such an important nice. Tonight was about me and my big booty mommy.

Of course I was arriving at the restaurant first. Everyone knows you gotta get show up early in case there's a line and get a table before everyone else shows. Basic courtesy. I was shown in pretty quickly, which felt a little suspicious. Usually I have to wait a long time whenever I go anywhere in armor. Have people been giving me the run around because they don't want to seat me in my armor? Buncha assholes. The inside of the Cluster was nice. Lots a Cizerack wood tone and neutral Corellian colors, slightly dimmed lights. It was cozy. The architecture was designed to mix those of Corellia and the Cluster. They had tastefully not put any statues of the Sun Goddess up around the place. That was the big mistake a lot of places like this usually make. So I guess that's one point for them.

"Right this way!"

The waitress was very, very chipper. Almost annoyingly so. Twi'leks weren't my thing. It turned me off how much everyone else was into them. But I had to admit, they grow them thicc on Ryloth.

"Thankss."

The table was tall with barstool chairs. Four of them. No two-chair tables left. I guess I should have put in a reservation. That's on me.

"Can I get you anything to start while we wait for the rest of your party?"

The projector in the center of the table came to life and display the menu options.

"Uhh, can jI get a paji leeha, cold, and the deep frrjied ssajoji bjitess wjith extrra rrrrou krree'aji sauce?"

Extra rrou? I mean, it was kind of right but still really weird to see on a fucking menu. Not as racially insensitive as I was expecting this place to potentially be.

"Right away. I have to say, I love your accent! What part of the Cluster are you from?"

There it is.

"Diangsu."

I'm not, but I'm not giving out where I'm from. Not reason to leave more breadcrumbs for my mother than I need to.

"Wonderful. I'll get your order put in right now and check in on you in a bit."

Thank the goddess she was finally gone. The place was half full, but the noise wasn't too bad. A lot of foppish looking humans and not a lot of Cizeracks. A familiar shape in the corner of my eye pulled my attention to the door, and Beck standing there looking around. Goddess, she looked nice. Funny seeing her without some kind of grease on her face. Looked almost like a completely different person.

I waved my hands to get her attention.

The look was different through the security feeds, but even with a three quarter overhead, it wasn't difficult to pick Beck out. She had a particular gait, a style that was more antithesis than thesis, and the glasses too, definitely the glasses. Usually people with ocular imperfections either had them corrected through surgery, genetic therapy, or cybernetics. Glasses might seem to some to be stubbornly anachronistic or simply inferior, but Untaaura had seen the frames close enough to know better. Beck knew what she was doing. And right now...she was apparently diverting from the concourse thoroughfare towards the new eatery - Coronet Cluster. Bingo.

"Thank jyou Sserrgeant, that wjill be all." The Major cut the small talk off at the knees as she departed, leaving Fangarn halfway in the middle of a Hutt Ball discussion she wasn't even contributing to. If she looked back, the Ishi Tib might have appeared chagrined to have been jilted from the conversation, but Untaaura wasn't looking back. She was scheming. She headed into her office, quickly closing the door and shading the single pane of window that separated her from the common workplace at the station.

The Major began the task of changing out of one uniform and into another, carefully working through a protocol list of buttons, folds, and the inevitable high-starched ascot. Her previous uniform cut a nice figure, but it was designed as much for function as form. She was changing into her parade crimsons, which were called for during parades obviously, but also for desk duty and social obligations where permitted. Outside of her tassled & high-collared dress crimsons, these were the nicest clothes she had. After doffing her previous jacket, Untaaura multitasked by pulling the cap off a can of deodorant with her teeth while punching a comm code with her other hand. Audio only please, connecting, one moment...

Untaaura squeezed her eyes shut as she turned away from a bracing gust of deodorant applied with the care of a carpet bombing.

"Hello?"

"Tenjun, jitss Verratoa." she pulled a drawer open at the cabinet behind her, looking through a half dozen matched pairs of white cloth gloves before placing one set aside.

"What can I do for you, boss?"

"jYou'rre sscheduled to rreporrt on that jImbrrjissji gass haulerr we jimpounded tomorrow morrnjing," Untaaura tried to talk casually in the midst of bending halfway to keep the blousing of her jodhpurs even as she inched her high-calf boots up each leg. "jI want that rreporrt tonjight. jI have a sscheduljing confljict jin the morrnjing, and want jyourr takeawajy forr ssenjiorr command."

There was a pause on the line, and Untaaura hurriedly moved into the small lavatory to scrub her face in the basin. When the soap and violence were concluded, she heard Lieutnant Tenjun's voice pick up again.

"That, uh, that's not a problem ma'am. Give me five, ten minutes, and I can come by precinct."


"Negatjive, negatjive," she furiously scrubbed her face dry against the towel and began to hastily throw on her blouse, fussing with buttons up to the top, where she paused and retrieved her ascot, "Thjiss jissn't a forrmal jinqujirrjy. Let'ss...let'ss get djinnerr."

The delicate dance of getting the ascot to behave with her collar gave plenty of time for Tenjun's "Ma'am? to eventually bubble out. Untaaura glanced back to the comm with the cautious eyes of a cat burglar.

"Djinnerr. Chow. Grrub. Let'ss go to oh, um..." The Major allowed herself a briefly indulgent grin at her subterfuge as she finished tying the ascot. Throwing her jacket over her shoulders but not yet buttoning it, she raced back to her desk to quickly bring up a quick key search. "...how about the Coronet Cluster?"

"That new place? The expensive one?"

"jIt'ss not that expenssjive..." Untaaura consoled Tenjin, herself having absolutely zero idea about the cost as she dealt with other important things, such as the wooden case with her bars, badges, and pins. She carefully began to affix them mostly on muscle memory. There was plenty of time to figure out the price for stuff later.

"I mean, that's your call ma'am, its just not exactly the kind of place that I...

No no no no!

"jI'm not orrderrjing jyou to pauperr jyourrself, Tenjun. Mjy meetjing, mjy venue, mjy tab."

Untaaura was vaguely aware that her words and pace were getting a little tighter and more clipped. Sometimes when you couldn't afford to sound angry, you put effort into sounding tidy, and Untaaura's cadence was clean enough to eat off of. Either way, Tenjun seemed to get the gist, and realized that you shouldn't question a free meal from your boss.

Understood, Major. Coronet Cluster in ten minutes?

Pulling a drawer, Untaaura's face relaxed into a frown as she stared at a complicated glossy black case. Opening it revealed an array of colorful swatches and tubes. Carefully, she twisted a tube, watching as a tapered vivid point raised from the opening.

"Make jit half an hourr."

Fifteen minutes later...at the Coronet Cluster

Okay, so she'd padded her schedule, so what? Only some of that was needed to negotiate the makeup. It wasn't that Untaaura was some kind of feral Fey'danni bumpkin that never dressed up, she was just sometimes out of practice. Well, there were a lot of things she was out of practice with, so the learning curve was gonna smack her for one reason or another. But now, she stood at the precipice of the thing. The signage was electric neon signage against wood grain. It felt like a little unsubtle, like an unsupervised toddler with a tray of paint and a roller.

"...an jinterrsstellar fussjion of culjinarrjy trradjitjionss, oh Goddess."

She honestly had no idea what Corellian food was even supposed to be, or why it was different from other forrda food. The objective was going to be ordering something with alcohol, probably ordering the cheapest entree on the menu, and being convincingly interested in Tenjun's report that he could leave quickly, or at least allow for a spontaneous and accidental meeting.

"Welcome to Coronet Cluster, how many are in your party?"

The cheerful attendant forced Untaaura into interaction mode, and she tried not to treat the chipper attitude with outright suspicion.

"Uh, jusst a table forr two, pleasse."

"Oh I'm sorry, there may be a few minutes wait unless its okay to seat you at the bar?"

Untaaura quickly clocked the bar relative to the dining area, and determined that it didn't really afford a good vantage.

"No, that'ss fjine, jI'll wajit."

She had been about to address the hostess when she caught sight of Ori, hands waving in the air and trying to get her attention. Not quite towards the back, but certainly not in the front of the house, Tamera smile wide as she quickly cast her eyes to the hostess.

"My party is back there," she lifted her arm, pointing to the waving Cizerack, "... I'm with her."

The hostess was a harried looking Gran, but was game enough to nod graciously.

"Kaii-too jjicha oh rrroo saa," she mumbled, in a badly imitated Cizeri accent of her Huttese.

It was the only understanding that she needed, and Tamera slipped past the greeting station to begin the short trek through tables, patrons, and staff. She was mindful enough to keep an eye on the serving trays that were brought out, and the delights that lay atop them.

Of course, her smile was radiant when she hopped up onto her chair opposite Ori. She stilled, blinked, then gave a frown.

No.

This was silly, sitting across from Ori.

Slipping off the chair, she moved to the one beside her dinner partner. Dinner partner... not really girlfriend, but wasn't she? Noooo, she wasn't going to think like that. The moment she'd ever started to in the past, it always fell apart. They were just figuring things out right now. And Ori hadn't shown anything but interest in her, and she'd certainly not rejected her little affections! Who knew?

Perching herself finally on the chair closest to Ori, Tamera decided to test her luck. She had a good idea that her feelings were felt in kind, but she was always second-guessing herself, and that was because she was an insecure Nar Shaddaa trashbag.

Leaning over, she planted a little kiss on Ori's cheek.

"Hey there, you."

I've had incendiary armor piercing rounds bounce around inside Abaddon's suit that burned less than my ear and face did right now. I mean, we have kissed more than a few times, but never out in public. It felt extra special.

"Wow... jI mean, you look grreat. Verrjy snazzjy."

I don't think I've ever done something so naturally before in my life as I reached under the arm of her chair with my hand and pulled her chair just a little bit closer to me. It felt like the right thing to do, and that's saying something because I never know what I'm doing or what to do. I just do, and usually wrongly. This must be what animals felt like when they acted on instinct. No thinking. Just doing without even knowing it. Because somehow her hand ended up in mine and I don't even remember making the decision to grab it. Freaky, but smooth.

"jI orrderred uss an appetjizerr; but you'rre alrreadjy lookjing ljike a ssnack."

So much for smooth. Goddess save me.

The minutes dripped by like treacle. Untaaura sat on the waiting bench in the restaurant's foyer, resisting the urge to take a few steps into the dining room and rubberneck for the human brunette. The moment she considered it, she could fill her ear tip glowing in self-flagellation. That was a quick way to sink the ship! Her right knee began to restlessly bounce, and Untaaura snatched a menu from the hostess's podium to help smooth that over and give herself something else to think about for a few minutes. Opening the menu datapad was like upending a cornucopia of analysis paralysis. There was a section of dishes that were obviously Cizeri. A picture of the fish, rodent, bird, etc and a brief description of the animal's diet, planet of origin, etc. Options for live or fresh kill, and that was it. The other three quarters of the menu was, well, alien. Fussy things on plates cut into strange shapes, on a pile of something unidentifiable with a liquid that was assuredly not blood spooned over. Untaaura had to admit that despite how ridiculous some of them looked, there was clearly something artistic at work. She then began to think of how long it took someone fussing and fiddling over a plate to make these things. Papa always used to scold her if she played with her food.

"Verratoa?" the Twi'lek pronounced her last name with an E-for-effort Carshoulis patois as she rejoined her Gran coworker at the podium, picking up two menu pads before noticing the Major already had one. Setting one of them down, she gestured towards the dining area. "Right this way, rrou'a." Untaaura tried not to grimace. The girl was being paid to project ambiance obviously, but it almost came off as kitsch. Untaaura willed herself way from fixating on that. After all, she had a mission.

The trip across the dining room was quicker than she would like. By the gait of the Twi'lek and the wait in the foyer, they were in dinner rush and she was trying to stay out of the weeds. It didn't leave a lot of time to look around, so Untaaura did the best she could. The lighting inside was low and moody, with each table and booth having a hovering light source that served to keep each party's attention on their own space. Additionally, the dining room was long and had a gentle curve around a massive wood and aquarium accent wall, from which another bar seemed to emerge organically. The curvature, however, meant that one end of the room would be unseen from the other. Hurrying past, Untaaura tried to quickly clock the half-lit faces as she moved in step with the hostess, but remained mindful that she shouldn't obviously gawk. A quick flash of brunette mane caught Untaaura's attention, but the face turned to reveal someone else. On a hunch, Untaaura stole a moment to briefly pivot to look back. There! A tall table along the far wall. Nobody else wore those glasses. She was with someone though. With their back turned to her, whoever it was remained mostly silhouette. Untaaura greedily stole a moment to try and get a better look.

"Here's your table, rroua."

Damn. Untaaura sighed, pressed her tongue lightly between her dry lips, and turned back to follow the last few paces that would carry her out of sight. Well, no plan survived contact with the enemy. Seated at a similar table, Untaaura looked at the high chairs with a frown. Whoever made these things should be shot. There was no way to take a seat gracefully when you had to use a step bar to get up there.

"Would you like to hear tonight's specials?"

"No." Untaaura replied, trying to strike the right balance in her head between brevity and enough politeness. "jI'll have a glass of Occa'rajee and, uh..." She returned to her menu, finding her way back to the exceptionally fussy thing she was looking at before. "...the Kaatho Thranishan."

"Oh, that's a wonderful choice, rrou'a!" Untaaura's eyes tracked to the right and the price. Thirty-eight credits?! She tried not to visibly wince. Fuck! Goddess, she couldn't back down now. It was the fussiest, most ridiculous thing on the page. She'd leapt with her heart instead of moving ahead with her brain. Plus, if Beck saw what she was having, maybe that was a conversation starter? Wow, you ordered a cooked piece of buffalo with a half dozen things wrapped around it, coated in pastry that could be displayed in a museum, and spent half a day's pay on it. I'm sexually attracted to people with taste and bad money skills.

"What'ss a Thrranjisshan?" Untaaura blurted out of nervous energy, regretting asking instantly. The Twi'lek seemed put on the spot, and the twitchy shift of her lekku didn't need to be translated.

"Oh, um...that's the name of a famous general...person...I can go ask?"

With the opening she needed, Untaaura killed the indulgence.

"No, no, that'ss...that'ss fjine." She could feel the beginnings of sweat starting to glisten on her head. "Can jI get ssome waterr?"

"Absolutely. I'll be right back with that, rrou'a."

Finally left alone, Untaaura let out another sigh. She tried to crane her head around the accent wall, and gave up, settling for fussing with her white gloves, eventually snatching them off her hands and stuffing them into pockets.

Ori was grinning at her, and Beck grinned right back. Whatever appetizer she'd ordered didn't matter - the brunette knew she'd love it. Heavens, everything on the menu looked delicious. The fusion dishes were what she had eyes for, however.

Crispy Fried Sajoi on skewers with portion of Corellian Forest Rice and a Kola Nut dipping sauce

Bluevev Glider Roll with Rainbow Sauce and topped with Bokito

Thimiar and Stewfruit Hash with Calanic Esote Maize

Flutterdeer Tartar with a Mint and Yoghurt Sauce

Fried Blackfish Skin with Cave Bean Pesto and Artisanal Toasts

Kalo Waloo Boneless Wings

Corellian Grass Snake and Juualai Egg Carbonara

It all looked so damn good, and Tamera wasn't so sure that she could properly choose just one thing.

Making an almost pained face, she let her head tip to one side.

"I can't decide," she finally let out.

One hand went down, below the table, to rest on Ori's thigh.

"What do you think?"

I felt my thigh tighten at her touch. It was a surprising sensation. Warm and comforting, but also I had the sudden urge to clench my thigh muscles tightly so that the muscle was apparent. If I had to say one thing about Abaddon, dragging his heavy ass around was great for muscle development. The support exoskeletons in those things was only good for so much, and I'm out there wearing a set of armor that doesn't even fit me so I can look bigger.

"Well, jit'ss one of the few tjimess jI'm eatjing out wjithout an jinch of tungssten-plasstojid arrmorr platjing on everrjy fjingerr so jI thought jI would trreat mjysself to thosse wjingss. jYou have no jidea how harrd jit jiss to eat ssaucjy food wjith arrmorred glovess on. jIt sstajinss the fjinjissh."

My face was as stoic as I could get it, pretending to be so enveloped in the menu and serious; but I couldn't keep it up before I cracked and tried to hide the smile that wanted to explode by pulling my lips into my mouth.

"jI'm kjiddjing. jI'm ssurre thejy'll have forrkss orr ssomethjing. jI don't thjink thejy arre rreadjy to commjit to the rreal Cjizerrack experjience. jIf thejy brreak out a feedjing pjit jI'm outta herre. Heh. Thosse sskewerrss look good."

"Oh I bet there's one built in to a private room in the back for the folks that want it," she couldn't help but muse aloud.

It was interesting though, how Ori seemed to shy away from certain things about Cizeri foods. She was a lover of snacks, but no desire for the live stuff? It was interesting, and Tamera had to admit she rather liked it; it was a neat thing to think about, that her girlfr-...

She blinked as her brain came to a screeching halt before she could finish even thinking the word. Her smile froze in place as she let herself stare down that cliff.

Were they?

It hadn't ever really come up between them - they'd just sorta been running on... something. The beginnings of a relationship? The start of something that was more than just a space station booty call?

She had to ask. She had to know.

But first, she had to commit to a dish.

"They do look good. Why don't we get that and the wings, and then we can split them?"

The pent-up energy returned to the Major's right knee, which began to tap up and down slightly as she looked around her half of the dining room. It was dark and intimate, and felt like the right kind of ambiance to take someone to get a memorable meal. Looking behind her, Untaaura could see a door plaqued by STAFF ONLY. No restroom there. She began to mentally rewind, trying to recall if she'd seen one coming in. She didn't but there had to be one up there. That seemed like the most plausibly deniable option. Go to the restroom, get another look at Beck (and the person she was with) and then...what?

Untaaura frowned. She hadn't really filled in that part of the plan. What was she going to say?

Before she could figure that out, Lieutenant Tenjun arrived. Damn. Why did he have to be punctual? Untaaura nodded as he clocked her, gesturing to the seat across from her, which would leave his back to anything in her field of view.

"Rrjight on tjime." She rose from her seat, stepping down from the ludicrously-tall chair with as much grace as she could muster. "Go on and orrderr. Make ssurre sshe knowss jyourr on mjy tjicket. jI' gotta hjit the head."

Tenjun, who had already brandished his datapad, looked a little disappointed in the sudden jilting, but he shrugged it off. "Sure thing, Major. I'll have everything ready to go over when you get back."

"Take jyourr tjime." She gave a curt nod, and walked on by.

Well, no more procrastination. What was the plan here? She would head to the restroom, head out, then see Beck by accident. Did that pass the smell test? Tenjun was here. Her alibi was airtight. What about this other person? Was she on a date? Goddess, that would be her luck. She didn't get a good look before, but the person at the table seemed about the same size. That ruled out that joker Abaddon thankfully. Beck would never be seen with a goon like that on her own time. Held captive at work, sure, but that was a totally different thing.

Quickly, she put her gloves back on and unconsciously adjusted her hair. She picked up on Beck as she made the turn around the accent wall. Too bad that her bad ear was closest, so she could pick up nothing as far as conversation. Just before she got to a spot where she might get a good look at the other person, a waiter in Corellian attire passed by, completely blocking her view.

"Fuck." Untaaura quietly hissed, not daring to break her stride to turn back. Maneuver first, then attack. Get it together, Marine!

Fully making the turn, the sign for the restroom was easy enough to see, and close enough to make it easy to have a chance encounter on the way out. Untaaura made her move.

"jYou rread mjy mjind."

The more time we spent together the more she seemed to just dig into my brain and know exactly what I'm thinking. She knew when I was hungry and would become a magician pulling snacks out of her sleeves. She didn't try to cramp my style or tell me what to do. She was warm and inviting. Oh fuck, is she everything my mother isn't? That's not a particular line of thought I want to go down right now. Anyways, we are on the same wavelength now. I don't know if I've ever felt so connected to another person since Tiaanna died.

Even in situations like this I was always on edge. Always watching out of the corner of my eye for danger. A lifetime of making lifelong enemies over simple misunderstandings and mistakes, not to mention dodging mother, had ingrained that in me. So naturally I saw the waitress coming back from the other side of the room long before anyone would have clocked it. She brought a bowl of breaded, deep fried nuggets and a bowl of dipping sauce that, according to the menu was spicy. I had my doubts. She also laid out a glass with my drink, and I was so relieved to finally have alcohol within arms reach. I'm sure it's gonna be weak sauce, but anything to take my nervous edge off would be super cool.

"Here we are. Are you ready to order, rrou'a?"

"Yeah. Can we get the bonelessss wjingss and the kababss? Djid jyou want anjythjing to drrjink, babe?"

I let my hand slip underneath the table edge and rest on top of her hand on my leg, and gave it a little squeeze.

It was a reassuring sign, and Tamera leaned into it.

She smiled at the server, canted her head slightly to the side, and flashed her most big-and-oh-boy-oh-boy smile.

"One of those bubbly fiz shakes," she had to think for a moment, remembering that this place had a fully-functioning shake bar, "... the sagri fra* one."

The server hesitated a moment.

"Sagri fra? Are you sure?"

"Oh I'm sure."

She gave a confident nod. She remembered the last time she'd had a sagri fra shake, and it'd been absolutely divine.

A final (and reluctant) nod, and their server headed off to put in their order.

Moments later she looked to Ori. She bit her lower lip, and finally gave a tentative smile.

"You and me," she started, but seemed to lose any grasp on the proper words to finish the sentence. Ori's hand on her own was then taken up fully, palm-to-palm.

Tamera regrouped, pulled in a breath, and let it out slowly.

"Are we... well... "

Their lovely dinner hadn't even started, and she was on the verge of possibly ruining it all. And in the next instant, she barreled ahead while hoping for the best.

"... can we be a thing? And not just some station booty call, you know? But like a real, live thing. A thing that's just you and me?"






* - Sagri Fra - Foie Gras

The head offered a bit of a cooling off point, and Untaaura spent five minutes in front of the basin and mirror, just giving herself a moment to relax and think this through. She splashed a little cool water on her face, blotting dry with a towel before carefully tidying any errant shocks of hair. Good enough. If there was anything wrong now, five additional minutes in front of the bathroom mirror wasn't going to fix it.

When Untaaura left, she mentally reminded herself to stay on course for her table. Make the connection accidental. People bump into each other on space stations all the time. Just act like you've got something else on your mind. Which, to her credit, she was able to pull off, right up until the point that she was close enough to see not only Beck, but the person sitting next to her. A woman. A Cizeri woman, with a docked ear. The sheer unexpectedness of it caused Untaaura's casual gait to falter. And in that moment, they both made eye contact.

No plan survives contact with the enemy.

"Beck?"

Woah. Sagri Fra? Damn, this girl was wild and freaky. I considered myself a bit of a snack snob but she blows me away with the variety of foods and snacks she's tried. In my defense, I usually cannot afford more than canned synthetic insta-beef.

Oh man, the way she's holding my hand and smiling at me. I don't know how I'm not just melting into a puddle. She's just so perfect. This is such a perfect moment. Nothing could tear this away from us...

I chose a poor time to take a drink of my water, and choked a little as her question came out. "Hrrm, ahem. Babe, jI thought we werre alrreadjy to-"

"BeCk?"

A familiar voice pulled my attention away from the hot momma next to me to bright and shiny uniformed person. Oh hey, the cute shortstack is back, and looking like the shiniest corporat in the verse. I would almost admit it was a bit of a glow up for her, but I was too busy being incredibly annoyed that this annoying person from earlier in the day was back and bothering us again. It took everything I had to not tell her to go fuck off right into the sun, but I was equally horrified of the intrusion of Abaddon's words in my head, and not wanting to rock the boat for Beck. The complete lack of recognition in the soldier's eyes made my soul crawl back out of my ass and back into my chest. She didn't realize who I was. That's good. I don't need people knowing what Abaddon looks like on the inside. I gots too many enemies for that.

In the meantime I would settle for flattening my ear against my head and grimacing.

Now??!! Of all times, now?! Now now?!?!

Her expression had frozen as that singular word ran laps through her interrupted thoughts.

Now?!

Of course, the voice of the person saying her last name was enough to eventually elicit a furious few blinks, and finally she slowly turned to face the speaker.

Major Verratoa. Because of course it was the Major.

Out of sheer instinct, the brunette held tight to Ori's hand, making sure the other woman didn't pull away.

"Major!"

Of course, seeing the major here, now, sent her thoughts spiraling back to their previous encounter. Had Little Man blown out yet another CAN?! Surely not. She had made sure to personally fix that poor guy back up, and had even installed a feedback dampening jumper to take on the processing load. Of course, there was always that not-zero-percent chance that he'd managed to blow out even all of that.

Still holding tight to Ori's hand, Beck gave a quick smile, and reaching up with one hand she pushed her glasses up just a tad since they'd slid down a little.

"Don't tell me that Little Man shorted himself out again... ?"

"What?"

Caught off guard, Untaaura scrambled, trying not to notice the clasped hands on the table, but also maintain eye contact. Project strength, Marine!

"jI, uh, no actualljy."

Her tail switched in choppy motions as she triangulated, and when she spoke, it was with a casual tone. Or at least casual for a Marine. "Actualljy, jI wanted to thank jyou forr jyourr worrk."

There was a flush to Beck's expression. Was that for her? Or for her?

"Lookss ljike the pathjing jintegrrjitjy on that MSSE unjit jiss holdjing. Whateverr jyou djid sseemss to have done the trrjick."

This wasn't getting any less awkward. Untaaura stole what glances she could of Beck's companion without lingering. It was like looking into a mirror. Maybe that's her fetish. Maybe that feeling of energy she picked up earlier in the day wasn't just vibes but tied up into whatever this was.

And what this was, probably wasn't her business.

"Anjyway..." she continued, covertly smearing sweaty palms against her bloused trousers, regretting leaving her white gloves at the table, "jIt'ss a ssmall sstatjion. Good rrunnjing jinto jyou. Majybe we'll talk agajin laterr."

And yet her feet didn't move. They felt like lead weights. What was she waiting for, to be dismissed?

Holy shit. It was taking everything I had to not saying something snarky at the clown in the uniform. I could see her trying not to look at me. The classic staring straight ahead but actually focused out of the corner of your eye. I know, because that's my move! Usually when I'm trying to eyeball a low cut torpedo mama while not wanting to draw attention. Having a helmet on really upped my game. You just had to remember not to tilt your visor right where your looking. Easy peasy.

Wait a minute. Is she not looking at me because she's trying to scope me out without being obvious? Does she think I'm hot and made conversation with Beck to get a closer look? She's never seen me outside of the armor. Damn. Maybe Abaddon was wrong all these years. I go out without the armor on and suddenly I have two hotties on my lap. I mean, Beck is way hotter and the uniform is really not doing it for me, but it feels solid as fuck to suddenly be so desired. I don't even know what to do with this cursed knowledge. I guess I can lean into it. Just a little bit. For fun, and to see how uncomfortable I can make the Major.

Without letting go of Beck's hand I adjusted my sitting position to angle out more towards the Major. I didn't have much to show off with the body the Goddess gave me, but I had spent years in heavy armor and constant trips through space didn't give me much to do but watch cartoons and pump iron. My half-shirt left most of my abdomen exposed; stripes, scars, muscles and all. So I flexed my abs in the biggest show of dominance I've ever attempted outside of my armor. That must be what she was attracted to, right? I didn't have many other physical qualities to show off other than blaster holes and muscles.

I looked her right in the eye. The same eyes that were trying to hard to focus on Beck and not look at me.

Game on.

Tamera took the parting-yet-not-really-leaving phrase for what it was, and nodded.

"Small station for sure," she grinned before switching her eyes to Ori. Who to be honest, looked like some barely pent-up rathtar ready to eat its' prey. The brunette gave a conciliatory laugh that seemed to just bounce off the table and into the crackling void between the two Cizeri women. It dissipated, fizzling out.

"So, yeah... "

Trying to latch on to the Major's last words while still doing her best to mitigate the look she could easily recognize in Ori's eyes, Tamera bit her lip for only a moment before turning a wide smile to Major Verratoa.

"I bet we'll see each other at some point for sure."

Her free hand reached out then, to give a reassuring pat to the woman's arm.

"I hope you have a good dinner - I hear the food here is wonderful."

She had a good peripheral sense, so Untaaura quickly clocked the look coming from Beck's friend. She'd seen that look before with Kuurramaai, but that was different - charged with emotion and shared history.

"Do jI know jyou?" Untaaura asked, regretting ignoring her opening to leave. Now she was meeting eyes with someone who was obviously attractive, but was too uncannily similar to be okay. More to the point, this doppelganger was open and direct about her intentions, and Untaaura was jealous of that.

"Not jyet..."

The Major was still here. She wanted something, but she wasn't giving away just what that was. It was a bold strategy to insert yourself into a private dinner and then play hard to get. I can respect the game, but I don't know how the hell she thought this was going it play out. Still, could be useful experience for my own little black book of strategies. Even if just to know what to never do. Thinking on it, this did seem like the kind of thing Abaddon would do to try and get someone's attention.

"jI'm Orrrrji."

I couldn't help but ham up my accent with all the blue blood embellishment of the Cluster. Mother had always wanted us to speak like nobles, because that was what she envisioned as the future of the family. I'd never laid it on this thick for Beck. I hated my accent and had spent years learning to hide it. But right now, right here, it felt like a great way to fuck with this weirdo. Oh damn, maybe I should have gone with no accent? That might have been even weirder. Oh well. Too late for that.

"Cool sscarrss."

Reaching up I pushed my hair behind what little remained of my ear.

The sudden deepening of Ori's accent made her stop, blink, and lick her bottom lip. It was... hot. It was enticing and attractive, and even if Ori hadn't meant it, it was just the sort of thing that would make their evening sofa lay-abouts turn into nights of nothing but grabby-hands and five-fingered bum-squeezes. Among other things. It was the thought of those 'other things' that made her partially blush, and Tamera pulled her hand right back from the Major, going to scratch at a suddenly very interesting spot behind her ear.

Ori's mention of scars only made things more poignant, and Tamera cast her eyes to the Major as if realizing for the first time that she was looking at a very nearly carbon copy of her girlfriend. Her. Girlfriend.

Beck was usually socially clueless, but she had her moments, and had certainly picked up on Ori's vibes right before being interrupted by the Major.

Ori and Beck. Beck and Ori. They were a THING. They were TOGETHER.

And Tamera wasn't about to squander the sweetest, most pure, most unorthodox relationship she'd ever had.

She held her tongue however, and kept her eyes on the Major.

She even spoke with a Carshoulis accent. Of course she was from the mother world, just like her. Living most of her life in the mountains of Taltimant hadn't shaken Untaaura of her city accent, but This Ori was laying it on like a spectacle. It was arousing and deeply weird at the same time, and Untaaura couldn't help but feel like she was playing a game that nobody bothered to tell the rules.

"jI'm..."

Untaaura unconsciously tidied her hair, again using her peripheral vision to this time take a read on Beck, who looked increasingly uncomfortable.

"...overrsstajyjing mjy welcome."

With that, she felt untethered, and able to take a few steps back to try and physically end the conversation.

"Njice to meet jyou" was added for Ori's sake, the conversational equivalent of a bacta patch on a severed arm. Untaaura turned before her own blend of shame, embarrassment, desire, and jealousy threatened to blossom, and retreated.

Two lionesses enter, only one leaves. The Major blinked first, and walked away defeated. Shit, I have never felt anything like this. My heart is racing. I thought she was going to play me back and call my bluff. I don't think I had any other moves to play after that. Well, at least no moves I want to play with Beck watching. There's definitely some interesting, and steamy, places that could have gone. But I'm going to keep that to myself and work it into the next fanfic I write.

Once the Major was a comfortable distance away I immediately shifted my attention back to Beck and gave her hand a squeeze. I switched back to my usual speaking light accent. That posh shit was exhausting. The rest came out as low volume word vomit but I seriously had to get all of this our right now because it was choking me out from the inside since we were interrupted.

"Fjirrsst, thrree thijngss: That wass ssuperr wejirrd, rjight? What wass that all about? Alsso, duh. jI thought we were alrreadjy togetherr-togetherr. jI've been prractjicalljy ljivjing wjith jyou and jI love jyourr cute facce and sstuff. Um... jI guessss jI djidn't have a thjirrd thjing..."

I could feel my stupid face blushing, but it felt good getting it all out. Kind of like throwing up, but cute, and stuff.

Cute face. Practically living together. Even just those two things were enough to make her inwardly swell up, and Tamera puffed herself out. A 'smooth' shoulder-tilt in to Ori, and a forehead-to-forehead interaction that left no doubts for either party.

"You know what I think?"

She was still stuck on the accent, even after the Major had made her exit. After all, it only made it easier to push in to that amazingly tantalizing inflection that Ori had stashed away in her linguistic repertoire.

"I think, that Ori needs to use her accent more."

And as if to punctuate her sentence, Beck angled her head over, giving the most delicate of kisses to her partner's cheek.

Returning in discrage to Tenjun at least allowed Untaaura to phone their meeting in and not think about things too much. The issue with the Imbrisi gas hauler was every bit as routine and procedural as she expected. For Tenjun's sake, he at least didn't try to give the entire thing a glow up and package it as the case of the week. He came, talked business, got a bite to eat, and left her with the bill...which was a bit more expensive than she wanted to let on. The entire thing was a concussion grenade that had gone off in her face.

No crying over spilt milk. Scrape yourself off the floor and regroup. So what if there's not enough lesbians in the cluster to fill a star cruiser, and so what if she found one that could pass as your stunt double. Wait, which one would be the stunt double? She looked like she worked out, and looked like she'd taken enough punches and worse.

The more Untaaura thought about it, the more it absurd and pathetic it was. Even if she didn't have uncanny competition, she didn't have a plan for talking to Beck. Thanks for fixing my droid, can we just spend a few hours talking about where we came from, because I feel like I need to know you. She didn't need to be reminded of how lucky she'd been to have met someone like Kuurramaai, even if it took years for that moment to be cultivated.

"Wajitrresss, Correlljian whjisskjy ijaaikan'rri, and the bjill, pleasse."

With her half-eaten plate of food taken away, Untaaura was at least determined to squeeze a cocktail's worth of enjoyment out of this fiasco, even if she was mixing business and pleasure by using idle time to process payroll on her data pad.

Why are you trying to find romance? Just getting laid is hard enough as it is.

With her own thoughts betraying her, Untaaura shut off the pad, gingerly massaging the bridge of her nose as she tried to figure out how she'd even gotten here today.

"The best I can do is no accent." I said using my most flat voice I could in a mimicry of the many mid-rim sitcom bootlegs I watched as a teenager. I could barely keep the smile off my face. I sounded ridiculous. It was the kind of voice you expected to sell you Asteroid Insurance.

I wasn't a huge fan of my natural accent. My mother had driven that into me and my sister when we were kids. It had not been a great time. I had spent so many years since trying to distance myself from that life and from my actual racial identity. The armor helped with that. But like, I mean, come on. It's not like I could ever tell Beck no. Look at that face. And just below. Bam! Torpedo mama. And I ain't hiding my eyes like the cowardly Major.

"jI'll tell jyou what. jI'll do jit jusst forr jyou. jIn prrrrjivate."