Gambling Between the Stars

[Tri'ahna Zylary]

That, at least, was something she could be grateful for - if indeed he could be trusted. She didn't have any way of knowing whether by agreeing to be used like this just once, she wasn't effectively signing away the rest of her life to service in this organisation or company or whatever it was of his.

But that was neither here nor there now. She had agreed. There was no way back out of that particular predicament, no matter how much she might wish to do so.

"Who is this man?"

And as an afterthought, she asked: "And what do you wish to gain from me being friendly with him?"

The thought had been been vocalised even before she had a moment to register it - it sounded strangely 'business-like' and detached to her own ears. Where had that come from?

[Kal Olorin]

And with that, she was on the hook. I shook my head slowly, "I'll point him out to you tonight. For now, just rest. Your body needs a few hours to recover."

I pushed away from the bed and walked a few feet away to place a call to the front desk. After a quiet conversation I returned to the girl's side. "After the doctors give the okay for you to leave, someone will escort you to a room, where you can stay for the remainder of the trip. I'll come pick you up for dinner."

I offered her a smile, and walked away, leaving her in the capable hands of the droids and humans that manned the medical facilities on the Morning Star. And, of course, with a two person security escort who would show her to her room and make sure she didn't get loose in the ship.

I had some research to do on our little mystery guest.

[Tri'ahna Zylary]

She gave him a smile in response, but it was a poor attempt, betraying her emotional state. She hadn't known that it was possible to feel contempt for one's self, but there it was - sharp as a knife's edge in her heart. Why would she allow herself to be used like this?

Because I do not have a choice. I know now what captivity is like. It's not a place I'd like to revisit. So this is what I do now, what I am now. Someone's toy. Or weapon. Or means to ... to whatever they want out of it.

It was all just so terribly confusing. She'd never needed to worry about anything, or think so much of what was going on around her. She'd never needed to think so much, period. And now suddenly everything seemed to come with possibly terrible consequences attached.

Tri'ahna Zylary, once the most successful storyteller and singer on Bestine IV and destined for true greatness, closed her eyes and tried to think of happier days - days before the fateful performance two standard days earlier, before she had become unwitting accomplice to the Rebellion's schemes. But the images and associations would not come, and after a while she fell into an uneasy sleep.

-------------------------------------------

Tria woke up because someone was touching her shoulder. Opening her eyes, she flinched: A medic's face was inches from her own, watching her.

He nodded at her. "You may go now. Your arm will be a little sore, but another bacta pack was able to stimulate the healing process. Just don't put any strain on it for a while, alright?"

"Yeah...."

Sitting up, her world was spinning for a moment, then steadied. Gingerly, she slid off the medvac bed and came to stand with bare feet on the cold floor. Cold grey metal floor. Clean and polished.

Her mind felt cold, analytical, the thoughts in her head seemed to come from far away rather - another person's mind - than from her own.

"I need something to wear."

Only now did she realise that the clothes she had worn during her botched escape were no longer suitable for wear - they were no more than rags and tatters now, and seemed curiously out of place in the sterile environment of this ship's medbay.

"What am I supposed to wear?"

There was no one but the two sober-looking medics to ask, and they only looked at her without speaking.

What now?

[Kal Olorin]

One of the medics pointed to a privacy screen that was just off to the side. "Clothing has been provided by Mr. Olorin. Please feel free to change out of the medical robe before you go to your room, Ms. Wenq."

Two uniformed and armed security guards were standing in the medical ward, but their stances were as non-threatening as they could manage. One was male, the other female, and neither were human. When she was finished changing they would escort her to her room, and contact Olorin.

****

I slammed a fist on the console, and unleashed a string of curses as yet another search of the 'Net revealed little to nothing about the Lucky Bug and its occupant. A few more hours of this futility and I'd be ready to put a bolt in my own head just to break the monotony.

And then, there it was: a little newsholo from Bestine IV about traffic problems. Apparently a ship had taken off with no clearance and nearly caused a civillian transport to crash into another one. A GAT-12 Skipray Blastboat, designated Lucky Bug. When contacted for the story the owner had refused to comment beyond that the ship had been stolen and he had filed with the proper Imperial personnel on the planet.

It was something, it just wasn't very helpful. I checked my chrono, noting that lunch time had flown by without me getting anything to eat. I slumped back in my chair, the gel-filled design adjusting beneath me for a more comfortable fit. Frell me. I'd have to go get the girl soon, and I hadn't even determined what her real name was.

Absently I checked through some low security Imperial files (working for one of the Vigo's of Black Sun gave one some advatanges over your regular schmoes) for the stolen vehicle report filed by Gorr'nak Freen. And... jackpot.

There was a file giving short details about a girl who'd slipped out of Bestine IV homeland security custody the same day. A fuzzy holo attached to the file (given to the Imps so they could help aid in her recapture) seemed to match my little visitor.

Tri'ahna Zylary was the name listed. There weren't any details on why she'd been in a holding cell, and the Imperial file gave the case extremely low priority. It hadn't been forwarded on to any off-planet personnel. I saved myself a copy to a datacard, and exited the Bestine IV local holonet cleanly.

Tri'ahna... It was a better name than the one she'd managed to come up with, that was for sure. I flipped the 'card over my palm, snagged it out of the air and deposited it into my suite's safe.

[Tri'ahna Zylary]

A curt nod was all she managed, the brief flare of uncertainty already sinking into the greyness of her numbed mind.

"Very thoughtful of him," was her clipped response to the medic as she headed to the screen indicated.

The sight of the dress he had been so thoughtful to provide evoked the first deep stirring of emotion in her - not a good one. Two crimson spots appeared on her cheeks and she felt flushed with anger. Nothing whatsoever would ever make her wear something like that!

Oh yes you will. You agreed. So you will.

The cold voice was coming from that numb part of her mind again, and it drowned out all else, succumbing her. And she, in her weary and confused state, simply let go of her emotions once again. She just didn't know how to deal with it otherwise, all of it.

Good. Now put that ... thing on and walk out there to meet your future. Because that's what you got so you're going to take your chances with this. No choice.

The voice was right. The voice was her other self, the cold, numb self, the one she hadn't known to exist before now, the one that had now taken when the rest of her was still in shock. She was beginning to feel grateful for its presence.

With stiff and awkward movements, she put on the flimsy purple dress that was made out of some kind of shimmer-silk which made its color shift and slip in and out of all shades of the rainbow, and which was barely covering a third of her entire body, being cut in all kind of revealing places.

In an equally stiff gait she walked out from behind that screen, trying desperately to somehow find a way to cover all those bare areas with hands that weren't big enough. But she held her head up high and announced to the medic that,

"I'm done."

The two of them looked at her in a way that only would have made her other self feel confirmed in its worst fears, but the new her coolly stared ahead and demanded to be brought to her quarters.

One of the ship's guards was stationed at the medbay entrance and he escorted her to her quarters, which turned out to be surprisingly modest and tasteful. Her mind was too full of things to really take a better look around, so all she did was sit down on the nearest chair and wait for her host to arrive. It wouldn't be long.

[Qourr Mhawat]

After 2 hours waiting for and another hour of being questioned by the ship's security team, Qourr was faced with somewhat of a large problem.

Binky had been easily misled about her - in fact he had jumped to the conclusion that she was just another prostitute all by himself. But the security staff hadn't been so blind to the fact that she carried a small arsenal of specialised gadgets on what had remained of her clothing, nevermind the injector stick. They'd shown up in that cabin too fast for her to dump it somewhere in the general mess of that place and pass it off as belonging to the crazed fool. While they had taken her to be a working girl at the beginning - probably intended only to give a talking to for working off the books - they'd been quick to notice something wasn't right, and when someone had produced the rest of her clothing and they'd found the MSW-9 molecular stiletto and the specialised encrypter, the game was up. So 20 minutes into it, the grilling had taken on a completely new angle and 40 minutes later they had waded through every likely - and some extremely unlikely - possibility and still not come to a conclusion about her.

Her problem was that without Jekaan being present, she wasn't authorized to inform them that they were in fact agents of the Empire. And even if she was, she'd have a hard time convincing them, with no evidence to back her up. They'd been going undercover to find evidence that would back up the statement of a new agent, and she wasn't even sure if this was an officially sanctioned mission. That their orders had come from the director of Intel was true, but to Qourr's best knowledge this whole mission was off the books unless the outcome proved successful. Checking up on the story of other agents wasn't really a common task. But anyway, their undercover ultra-secret status meant they'd gone in without any possible identification that could lead back to their employer.

She wasn't sure whether Jekaan, who didn't like to do things by the book, hadn't taken something along anyway, but since she hadn't heard anything of or from him, her hands were effectively tied. If he had taken his ID chip, and he hadn't used it to ID them, then it meant he didn't mean to and had already figured out another way out of this situation, in which case she would botch up his plans by outing them as Intel. If he hadn't, then the point was moot anyway.

So there she was, at a complete loss for what to say, and all these idiots could come up with was that she was some sort of bountyhunter in heavy disguise since they'd not found her mugshot in any current list of bountyhunters available. One of them had decided to run an x-ray scanner over her to check if her bone structure was human, and another one was currently busy in the lab analyzing her blood and DNA. And a third one was just then trying to decide if he should go test if her hair was real, and threatening her with lame ideas of exactly how he would go about testing that out that involved a set of tweezers.

"You could always try out the MSW-9 for that," she offered in that light conversational tone that seemed to drive them mad. "I'm sure it's much more effective."

"Shut up!"

They weren't really all that good at being scary, so she merely smiled at the man opposite her. He seemed rather nervous in her presence, ever since he'd felt the muscles on her forearm when he'd frisked her during the initial arrest. She could see the beads of sweat running from the side of his cheeks down his neck, where they gathered on his uniform collar and left a growing damp spot. Yuck. He knew she could take him on and leave him in a pile of broken bones and bloody rags, and she relished that knowledge. Men generally didn't like being made to feel inferior to a woman... although there were always those rare exceptions that got a kick out of being treated that way...

Then inspiration hit her.

[Dashiel Starborn]

There's only one kind of person that a casino crowd likes more than a big winner, and that's a big loser. Right then and there, losers didn't come any bigger than Moff Draik. It had taken all of twenty minutes on the floor for Dashiel Starborn to come to that conclusion. For hours, the passengers of the Morning Star had watched Draik gamble his way into a small fortune. Some of them cheered, living vicariously through his victories, whilst others muttered bitterly about a lack of fair play.

Whether or not the Moff's meteoric rise had been rigged didn't matter now, though, as his burnout was just as stellar. Still, he kept on playing, and at high-stakes. Starborn, taking a sip of something tall and blue, couldn't help but wonder if the Moff had gotten cold feet. Once or twice they'd sat at the same table and, as ordered, he'd folded on decent hands – a gesture which was supposed to act as a tip off. Draik, seeing this, would call it a night and head to the bar for a commiserative drink. Apparently he wasn't ready to call it quits yet, but the Rebellion couldn't wait forever...

[Jekaan Oludh]

The first thing he could feel was the stinging pain of something rubbing the skin raw around his wrists. Then his entire body was aflame, prickling with thousands of needles or more, before that too faded away to leave him with the particular sore feeling of having been dragged along for a while by rough hands, picking up a few bumps and bruises on the odd corner or stairs. His head in particular felt like someone was trying to drill a hole from the inside out, complete with echo.

Jekaan tentatively opened an eye, aware that this would only result in worsening his conditions. Indeed, the garish light overhead seemed to want to blast its way through his eye into the back of his brain, but when he managed to lift his head a little - oh the pain! - at least he could see that he was lying on a stretcher in a bare room.

He also was quite alone. And his hands were tied with binders.

Groaning, he closed his eye again and let his head fall back onto the hard surface of the stretched. Definitely no creature comforts in here, not even a pillow. Or some water.

Exhausted, he fell into a fitful sleep.

[Qourr Mhawat]

Before she could even get started on carrying out her newfound plan, the guy who had been analysing her blood and DNA samples came running back into the room, slightly out of breath.

Qourr shifted in her chair. Maybe it was better to see what they had found out.

The labrat showed the other guy his datapad, then that was followed by a lot of whispering. A minute passed. They consulted the pad, whispered to each other, the nervous look in the interrogator's eye still very much present as he once stared up and at her over the shoulder of the lab tech. Qourr grinned at him and waved her hand. He looked back down onto the datapad the lab guy was still holding. Another minute passed. Still whispering.

Qourr languidly stretched her legs out for a moment, then crossed them over and stuck her hands into the pockets of the fatigues they'd allowed her to put on again. Outwardly still grinning, she nevertheless was beginning to wonder what in Vader's name could be so interesting to them. A moment later, she got her answer.

Gone was the tough guy attitude from just moments before - it was as if he'd never made any threats at all, and there was something decisively cagey about him now. "I-i-it says here you're ...ah... Qourr Mhawat, homeworld Coruscant, age 23 standard years," her questioner was saying, with a frown on his forehead.

Where had they got that info from??? That was classified info and not something some casino security staffling should be able to get at! The grin never wavered but she was gritting her teeth, and her eyes turned a shade colder than they had.

"Yeah....," she drawled out the word.

The guy looked at her with a frown. "Yeah what? Is that your name?"

Qourr chuckled. "Don't tell me it took you 5 minutes just to discuss a name, planet and age!?!? What other stuff did you find out?"

The frown had turned into deep furrows on his sweaty forehead. With a growl, he said: "If you are who this says you are, then you're employed by some kind of perverse escort service back in the Core and currently out on assignment with a client....?" That was a very tentative way of putting it.

Qourr's good mood was back - leave it to Jekaan to doctor her official files! It seemed he had done more than just the average preparation for this - nevermind the use of her proper name - that bio was more than she could have hoped for. Actually, it was exactly what she had wished for! A warm fuzzy feeling bubbled up in her for her cantankerous partner; he really knew her so well!

The grin on her face turned rather lopsided and she began to ogle the guy up and down, which wasn't lost on him and he flushed violently.

"Yeah.....," she said, and looked him in the eyes, " ... so it would seem."

He swallowed audibly and tried to meet her stare, failed dismally and ended up looking faintly cross-eyed down his own beaky nose. "Ahhh... so what exactly is this assignment?"

"Well ....." - she started to inspect her fingernails - "... I dunno if I'm at liberty to tell... "

That got him all flustered and he was starting to open his mouth in protest when she held out her hand palm forward, stopping short whatever he was about to say, and she added: "..... but since it could get me out of this ... verrry.... stiiiicky.... situation..."

- She was having fun watching his eyes bulge as she was stressing the various words -

"... we were hired by that nutcase to follow some kind of script that would have ended up with us hanging him upside down from the ceiling and inserting a very weird selection of tools into various orifices. When you burst in on us, I had just given him some freaky neuro-stimulator drug he asked for. My partner was supposed to whip him until he screamed."

The poor guy in front of her looked like he could do with a strong sedative. She didn't need to be able to read his mind to know what he was picturing in that head of his, the aghast look in his eyes said enough. Nevermind that this story had some obvious holes in it and didn't explain various items she'd carried - that seemed totally lost on the guy at that point.

"You ... mean ... to ..tell me ...that man asked for all that?!?" he finally managed to say in a squeaking sort of voice.

"Oh yeah!!!" She nodded her head with enthusiasm, a movement he seemed to unconsciously copy as she did. "You should have read the instructions he sent us! I gotta say, I dunno what that droid was doing in there, it wasn't in his file - maybe some extra bit of fun, sometimes our clients like to surprise us."

"Ahhhhh... ehhh.... I see," the poor man said, and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. "Ehhh.... I still have to verify this story with your.... ahhh... partner, Miss ... ehh... Mhawat."

He got up to leave, and it looked like his knees were a bit shaky. Qourr's grin got wider. Halfway to the door he turned around and said: "You don't mind me saying but that ... ehhh... I mean.... you have a very... ehh.... interesting job."

Qourr threw her head back and laughed, and was still doing so when the door clicked shut behind him and she was left alone.

Nothing to it but sit it out and see what would happen next.

[Jekaan Oludh]

He woke up because the subtle change in air and noise indicated someone had just entered the room - in his books a rather rude interruption of the pleasant dream he had been having, and this put him into a decidedly bad mood. Bleary-eyed, he squinted into the light, trying to see what was happening, but could only see blurry outlines. Sitting up on the stretcher he’d been lying on, he shook his head and rubbed his eyes to get rid of the remaining effects of being stunned – but while this helped clear his head, it also caused a worsening of the headache he’d felt earlier.

Oh great…

Two people had entered the holding cell, or room, or whatever it was that they were keeping him locked up in. Both wore the drab bottle-green uniform of Ship Security, and both looked like they wished they could be elsewhere. The older one of them was a human male around Jekaan’s own age, the younger was some kind of humanoid female mongrel of unspecifiable origin, human facial structure but crusty-looking bone ridges on either cheek and a weird patchy discoloration of her skin that made the green uniform look like it’d been designed just for her. She had, so he noticed when held out a datapad to him, webbed digits, and only 4 of them on each hand.

He wondered if she would lead the investigation or her senior – if she’s not actually older, who the frack knows with her kind?? – but found out fast enough as she stepped back and let the male take charge. Too bad. He liked a challenge.

“Ahhhh… so your name would be …. Ima… Nidjet?”

The officer had an ugly sweat stain on his collar and and an oddly dry skin, a combination that didn’t match and made Jekaan wonder how much time the guy had needed in the ‘fresher to make himself presentable again. He’d made sure to pronounce that name very carefully with an extra long break in between and with a good dose of incredulity, which meant he’d sussed it out and was smarter than Jekaan would’ve given a SecStaff member credit for.

“Awww too bad, now I can’t even make fun of you.”

He did grin, however.

“But no, if that was my name I’d shoot myself,” he added, with an exaggerated wink.

Oddly enough this caused the other man to blush, but whatever it was he had it under control fast enough to ask: “So what is your REAL name?”

Jekaan’s grin got a little broader. “Now I’m afraid THAT I’m not at liberty to tell you.”

The man harumphhed, and looked him into the eyes with a stare that would probably have been adequate to intimidate the average jock but that caused only mild amusement in Jekaan. Since that didn’t get the required result, the guy tried to put some steel into his voice – which, Jekaan could have told him, wasn’t going to work on him either.

“You are a prisoner on board the Morning Star, and are being held on charges of assault and possession of an illegal weapon for which you will be turned over to the authorities the next time we make port. You would do well to co-operate with us - if there is anything to alleviate these charges, you tell me now!”

Jekaan had moved forward on his chair during this fine speech as if he was about to get ready to spill his story, but the officer’s hope at seeing this died soon enough as his prisoner once again leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms before his chest, smirked and said: “No.”

The guy got flustered. Jekaan went on smiling.

By his inner clock, several hours had passed since their arrest, and he was sure they had taken their time to get all the necessary information on them in the meantime, as well as had a talk with his partner Qourr. And if he knew her at all well – which he did to an extreme – then she’d spun them a likely story. He wondered if she’d been able to use the background story he’d concocted, and if she’d been pleased with him – he’d left it vague enough to make it possible for her to flesh it out to her liking. If she had, then she would have included him in her story, which meant this guy who he was now sitting opposite of was waiting for him to back her up.

But obviously to them, it hadn’t been quite the same with him – the data didn’t match exactly; the name was wrong, and he wasn’t listed with the same employer. Which meant they’d gone digging further and couldn’t find anything at all on him – and that was something that would make any Security officer extremely nervous.

“So that woman I just talked to, she is also not what it says she is?” the officer asked him, looking red-faced and angry.

Jekaan had a mission to fulfil. And right now this meant making sure his partner could contact Esalis who was the only one authorised to make this an official mission. Until then, these nerfherds didn’t need to know anything more than what they already did.

“No, she is what it the data you found says she is. She just doesn’t know that I’m not who she thinks I am.”

The guy opposite him was beginning to lose his temper, the way his face was getting redder by the second. Probably not used to dealing with situations like these, especially not with a prisoner who was impervious to their threats and was so charming as he. Time to defuse the situation.

“Tell you what, why don’t you make it a little easier for her? Let her contact her employer so she can verify her story, and leave her out of this – whatever beef you have is with me.”

The officer was about to retort something like “How dare you suggest to us what we are to do???” when he stopped short and let Jekaan’s suggestion sink in. There wasn’t much else he could do anyway.

“Alright,” he finally said. “We’ll let her contact this employer of hers. But both of you remain in custody. And I’m not done with you.”

Nodding to his junior member, he marched out of the room, leaving a stale smell of sweat behind.

Jekaan chuckled. So far, so good.

[Qourr Mhawat]

Chief Pallar was starting to wish he'd never gotten up in time for his shift - had in fact never taken this job. He wasn't cut out for work like this - nothing in his training as a security officer could have prepared him for the day's troubles. Hitherto this had been a fairly cushy job - every now and then having to deal with some unruly customers who had drunk too much or had otherwise engaged in random acts of rowdiness, his worst job before this day had been to arrest a drunk Defel who was trying to break in and steal from some of the private yachts berthed on board the Morning Star.

But not only had he now to deal with a currently completely comatose lunatic - and a potential killer, if any of those women died - but he also had something of an enigma on his hands in the form of the pair of ... of .... well whatever they were. Something was going on that was totally beyond his scope of experience, and he didn't like it. He was a smart man - he'd graduated at the top of his class at the Carridan military academy, after all; smarter than the average military jock anyway, because he'd had the sense to see what being a soldier in the Empire was doing to him, and he'd got out of there. He'd kept the ability to think for himself, to look beyond the indoctrination, and it'd landed him with this job instead of being used as military fodder on some backwater hole of a planet doing whatever the Empire was training its soldiers for. Thinking had kept him alive.

But he could think all he wanted in this situation, and he wasn't getting anywhere with it. There was something just a little bit iffy about this whole situation, just as he just knew there had to be something wrong about his two prisoners. The woman was good - she was really good, she'd managed to get under his skin for some reason; everything about her virtually screamed of pent-up energy, and he'd not failed to notice her body's degree of fitness. Just by the way she was sitting on that chair she'd reminded him of one of the ferocious wilderbeasts lurking in the tallgrass of his homeplanet, coiled to spring and catch her prey by the throat in one powerful lunge. He'd read the knowledge of her superiority in her eyes and it'd made him nervous, had made him flustered and left him at the mercy of her words - for which he felt deeply ashamed. It'd taken him almost an hour afterwards to get over the frustration he'd felt with himself, but finally he had accepted that he'd gone into that situation unprepared, and let her take advantage of his baser instincts. In hindsight he'd realised that he'd let her make his mind up for him about what to believe even in the presence of some very jarring and obvious holes to her story, which simply would not do. He couldn't make his mind up about her, but whatever she was, she was a cunning little minx.

The problem got even larger after he'd talked to her so-called partner. He'd made sure not to go into that one unprepared again, and it hadn't taken much imagination to spot the obvious trap the man had tried to set by his choice of name alone. So he'd known how to avoid it. He wasn't going to let anyone make a fool of him again this day! But again his intelligence had been foiled - he'd expected the man to follow the same line as his partner, and had prepared a few poignant questions designed to break through those holes she'd already left for him and get to the bottom of this, but instead it had gone off into a completely different and equally unexpected direction. The man was as slippery as an eel, and hard as durasteel to crack - and he'd seemed entirely at ease with the situation. It gave Pallar some unpleasant ideas about what exactly this man might be.... unpleasant enough not to want to think about some of them at all. What had eventually surprised Pallar most about him was the uncharacteristic show of compassion for the woman he'd run with, suggesting she'd been used by him as a cover to whatever his real objective was and that she'd be allowed a chance to clear her name.

All in all, Pallar was at a loss for what to do. In the short span of a couple of hours he had learned things about himself that he'd never expected, as well as come face to face with an enigma that surpassed him. Which did not mean that he wasn't wiser now - wise enough, anyway, not to let himself be manipulated by yet another person. Yes, he was going to give her a chance to prove her status - but he'd be a fool to believe anything point blank until he had that proof in his hands. There was always the chance this was an elaborate ploy cooked up between the two of them, and he was nothing but a pawn in whatever sick game they were playing. So he wasn't going to play along - he was not going to be anyone's pawn, and he certainly was not going to let her get the better of him again! He'd let her believe what she wanted, give her the chance to contact her so-called agency, but he would make up his mind for himself about what to believe and what not. And as for her partner - he could rot in that cell for all eternity, or at least until something more was known about him.

One thing was sure - he had enough on his hands with these two; whenever the other one would wake up, Olorin could take care of him himself.


----------------------------------

When her so-called interrogator walked back into the room, quite alone and a lot more assertive than when she'd last seen him, he wore the look of someone who meant business. That made her wonder - was her partner to blame for that? Or the nutjob?

Qourr was still sitting there in the same pose - legs outstretched, hands in her pants pockets. She'd just decided that she was hungry, but put the decision aside as she needed her wits about her now. There'd be a time to ask for food later.

Oddly enough the guy decided to just stand there without even saying a word, his eyes boring into hers - and this time he didn't drop his stare.

What game are we playing now?

She felt vaguely amused. Sitting absolutely still, she knew that the first sign of any kind of movement would mean she'd lose whatever game he was playing with her - and she didn't like losing at anything.

Never dropping his stare, he finally spoke: "I've decided to believe you.... somewhat. You will be allowed to contact your employer and get them to verify your current status."

She allowed herself to blink once and with that hoped to cover the surprise she felt. This guy wasn't quite as much of an idiot as she'd first thought - he seemed to possess a few more layers than she'd expected. The manner in which he'd last left her had hinted at him being the average lackey, but this new attitude showed backbone.

Which meant there was probably more to it than just his offer to let her contact her employer. Time to see what the limitations of the offer were.

"And when our employer has verified our status, then we're free to go?"

He was still looking at her eyes, and now he was mirroring her previous grin.

"We shall see."

And with that, he threw something at her that she cautiously caught: it was a satchel containing the encrypter and the comm-gear she'd carried.

"I trust that will be enough to make contact or do you need to use the ship's hyperspace communications system for this?"

Finally looking away from him, she only gave him a vague shake of the head, mumbling "-nah, this'll do -" before concentrating on her gear and checking it was all still in working order. But whoever had inspected the stuff had done a sloppy job - or good one, at least, for her - because everything was still intact.

The message didn't take take as long to compose as it did to run through the encrypter, but that was the nature of these things. At least she could rest assured that it was safe from all prying eyes - nothing ever could penetrate Intel's messaging system. After sending it out, she deleted all traces of her message from both the encrypter and the comm-unit, then switched both off and put them back into the satchel.

"I'm done," she finally told him with a cheerful grin. "Any chance I could get something to eat?"

[Darth Binky]

Darth Binky woke up with a start and sat bolt upright, well as upright as one good when one was restrained to a gurney. He fell back down, exhausted. Groggily, he blinked his eyes clear of the film of sleep, and tried to focus on the overhead lights. His veins felt as if they were on fire. Looking around himself, he saw that he was in the medbay of the Morning Star. As the ringing in his ears subsided, he head the steady beep beep of the heart monitor.

Darth Binky was naked, and much to his disgust, freshly bathed. A bald smiling head appeared above his face. "Good morning, quite a scare you gave us, we thought we thought you were going to die on us. You should've seen how many drugs were in your system."

He groaned as the doctor ticked off a list of the illegal, and perscription, narcotics that were in his system. He didn't care much, he just wanted to get back and that whore who stabbed him. No one stabs Darth Binky and gets away with it. Unless they ask first, which she definitely did not. Ugh...

"I WANT TO SEE A DOCTOR! I WANT TO SEE A DOCTOR NOW!"

The doctor said kindly, "I am a doctor," and flicked a switch which pumped sedatives into his blood stream. Slightly calmer now that he was medicated once again he asked the doctor, "so, why exactly am I here."

"Well it seems that security brought you here last night cycle, it seems there was an altercation between you and the ship's escort service, as well as ship security."

"I see... what about the woman that stabbed me?"

"The syringe? She's been in custody of ship security. Though I must say, I have no idea what you did to all those escorts. They're in the adjacent wing recovering, I suspect you're in quite a heap of trouble."

"I see... well can I talk to someone about this, this is probably just a big misunderstanding..."

"Well I'll alert security that you've awoken."

With that the doctor walked out of his field of vision, and he heard the sizzle noise of a force field going on and then off. Damnit...

-----------------
The good doctor walked out of the isolation wing and sealed it behind him. Walking over the intercom he pushed the button down with one skinny pale finger. "Hello security, this is Doctor Wren, the patient has just come to about..." glancing at his chronometer, "4 minutes ago. He is restrained and sedated, instructions?"

[R. S. Esalis]

Imperial Centre, Coruscant

The desk, far from its' normal appearance of order and cleanliness, was a veritable mountain of datapads and hardcopies. Reports from agents currently in the field, debriefing notes, dossiers, anything and everything seemed heaped upon the teekwood desk. And behind this mountain, in a rare instance of nearly utter rage, sat the Director of Imperial Intelligence - R. S. Esalis. She was quietly fuming within the confines of her office, as aides and even her own secretary had been reluctant to brave her presence for the entirety of the day.

There had been no word from Agent Orem in the last two days, and her growing frustration had turned into a steady anger that was threatening to boil over. And so she would sit, glaring at the far wall and any who dared to enter with any sort of documentation that required her attention. Such materials had been wordlessly deposited on her desk until they'd formed a pile; and then a mountain. And still she sat.

It wasn't until the comm built into her desk gave its' familiar chime that her eyes unfocused, and she inclined her head downwards to the one area of her desk's surface that had been left unused.

With a frown, the Director reached a hand out, depressing the button that would bring up the incoming transmission. Soon enough however, her features deepened into a fierce scowl, and Esalis leaned forward in her chair.

A deft punch to a small control pad activated the holorecorder embedded into her desk, and she glared at the lense.

"This is Director Esalis of Imperial Intel. It has come to my attention that you have unlawfully placed one of my agents under arrest. I do not care to know why you have done this, but your actions are in direct violation of Imperial law."

Her voice lowered a level, barely contained.

"In doing this, you have taken one step down the road to being labeled as a part of the Rebellion. I do not recommend you take that walk. Release my operative, or I will begin signing Death Marks for each and every one of your crew."

Another stab, and the recorder went silent. Truly, Mhawat had unknowingly caught the Director's attention well enough, as her timing wonderfully coincided with Esalis' own sour state of mind.

Her fingers ran easily over the console at her desk then, and the message was sent to the Morning Star.

[Jekaan Oludh]

The guy had left his junior officer behind. How sporting of him. So far Jekaan hadn't been able to figure out what sort of species she belonged to - if she did indeed belong to any, and wasn't really just some mongrel. Indeed the only thing he'd managed to find out was that her skin could change color when nervous. Currently her skin tone was a violent shade of purple, which for some reason made the ridges on her cheeks stand out more prominently.

He mentally filed away this information in his head, determined to look it up when back at base, and was about to address her to see what sort of an accent she'd produce, when she pinged. Or rather, her datapad pinged.

She grabbed it in an overzealous way, and brought up whatever message she'd received. And once again he watched her skin tone change, this time to bright orange. A sound came from her, something that sounded like a short burst of static, and turning her eyes up at him she looked at him with something that could only be classified as utter terror, before she turned around, kicked the door and exited through the barely open door that slammed closed again behind her.

Must be someone stationed on the outside of that, Jekaan thought to himself, and then started wondering what that had all been about.

----------------------------------------------

Chief Pallar's day had just gone from bad to worse. Currently he was staring down at the message his second-in-command had handed him minutes ago, and he was still trying to make sense of it all. His index finger punched the button again and the small holorecording replayed the message for the third time. It showed a woman in Imperial uniform, icy-blue eyes staring him down even from such a distance - and her words stabbed even greater wounds into his chest where his heart had been racing ever since he'd heard the words "Imperial Intelligence" and "death marks".

His worst fear had come to life - he was indeed dealing with an agent of the Empire; there was no way to get around it now. He'd feared for such a thing ever since the man had so calmly refused to state his name and remained undaunted upon being threatened, but he'd managed to ignore that fear for the time being.

[Ak hnxix'sh hp'hnix hkrm?], his second asked him, and that forced him back into thinking. There was only one possible course of action. Instead of replying to her, he turned about and walked down the corridor towards the prisoner's block again.

-------------------------------------------------

Jekaan was trying to listen. The ship engines of course made their own sound, but he was trying to see if there really was someone stationed outside his door - hollow noises on those durasteel plated floors were always a dead giveaway - but so far if there was anyone out there they must be rooted to the spot. It wasn't done purely out of boredom, but as a matter of genuine interest: the way the door had responded to the female simply kicking it intrigued him; he hadn't seen her press anything or utter any kind of sound that would hint at voice activation. How had she done it?

But then there was the sound of approaching footsteps - two people coming his way. What next? Something to do with whatever pulled her out of here?

Of course, there was an obvious possibility, but he couldn't be sure. There was no reason that security officer would simply do what he had asked him to; he might have shaken the officer's confidence in his own techniques a little but that alone was no guarantee that he'd do his bidding. And even if - there was no telling what the response from base might be. Possibly they were just coming back for him now for the rough treatment.

But when the door once again whooshed open and admitted the same two who had come to him the last time, Jekaan knew possibility had become certainty. The officer looked pale and shaky, and his assistant's skin tone seemed to have lost a bit of its vibrancy. The look in the officer's eye had that peculiar mix between total terror and extreme dislike that Jekaan had seen so many times before on just the same kind of occasion - yes, they knew.

"Ahhhh I was told by a wom-- by Director Esalis that we are to release you immediately..... Sir!", the guy finally stuttered, and added that last appellation with a tentative military salute. "I-- I mean we are very sorry that we did not know-- we --- I shouldn't have....." His apologies petered out in stammering.

Jekaan smiled at him and patted him on the shoulder in a comradely way. "Perfectly alright. You were only doing your job. I doubt the Director will take any further action against you if you co-operate in such a forthcoming way from now on."

The other nodded, slowly. His assistant mirrored the movement.

"So let me tell you how you can help me further... Chief Pallar," Jekaan said, after taking a second to read the man's name tag that he'd hitherto not bothered with, and led them out of the room.

[Muuulv 'Muzzle' H'neh]

What he liked about the Morning Star was there were no white shells anywhere. Of course, an abundance of other objectionable creatures, but no white shells, and that had to count for something. Muuulv loathed white shells even more than the rest of his species - no, he definitely held no love for them, especially not since two of them had tried to get smart with him one day and had followed a bit of friendly thumping by shooting at him. He still wore the scars from that and his knee joints had never been quite the same. No, they were definitely loathsome.

Of course it would have been highly unlikely for a cruise liner to have a compliment of Stormtroopers on board, but it was all the same to him. Something was always objectionable. In this case, there were too many metal men. He hated them too - they were unnatural.

He longed to be back on his homeplanet, but that wasn't going to happen anyday soon. They didn't like their own leaving and running with a bunch of Rosselworms like he was involved with. No they didn't. It'd been a stupid idea. He knew that. But 'twas too late to reconsider stupid ideas.

Muuulv drained the tumbler of Mroov, and grudgingly admitted to himself that he couldn't find anything unpleasant about the cruiser's management - after all, they carried Togorian Mroov.

Then his commlink pinged, and he grimaced. He hated those noisy lifeless devices, too. He hated technology as a whole. But now that he was out in the world he had to use them, and live with them.

"Yarrr, yarrr.... rhrreckon we got good winninzzz frhrrom thizzz lot. Buncha prhrrivatzzz, couple a' shuttelzzz, an a few yachtzzz. Makezzz good loot, eh?"

His comrade on the other side made a nondescriptive reply, then told him to sit tight and wait for them, then the link died again.

"Hrhrrrrrem.... rhrrrozzzzzzelworhrrrmzzzz, all a them..."

He cursed them all, and hoped the wait would not be too long. At least there would be Mroov to drink.

[Jakys Sei'trem]

“No no no, ‘course not, my dear!” A piercing voice rang an edgy tone through the casino of the Morning Star. The commotion stirred around a particular craps table, or more accurately, the Devaronian with an attractive Twi’lek under each arm. Jakysbounced a pair of dice on his knuckles before an indigo colored beauty, Arali her name was, as she caressed his groomed and polished horns, his accent easily screamed that he had not grown up on his species' homeworld.

“Y’see, craps is pure chance, bit ‘o break from that deceitful hogwash that goes about sabaac or poker…” He popped the two die into the air, caught them expertly between his fingers and bopped them lightly against her nose, eliciting a giggle. “…y’never know if yo’ mates are honest gentlemen or slipperys’ a greased dug.”

A chorus of laughs echoed around the alien high-roller. Jakys Sei’Trem had earned himself a small cult posse on the luxury vessel and a reputation among the dealers as a generous tipper and a sporting player to fellow gamblers. Not an over the top-player, but he bet high enough to be considered a high-roller. It was strange to see an alien in this day and age at the high-stakes tables of any game, much less one of the horned humanoids of Devaron. But Jakys was something else, always in silk attire of the highest quality and friendly voice for all. A unique male of his species, he had both his sharpened set of teeth and the more-or-less normal set characteristic of the females; Sei’Trem was more than polite enough to keep the intimidation incisors retracted. Nobody could not like him.

“The odds to win are better then?” The green-toned Twi’lek leaned against Jakys and playfully draped one of her leku over his shoulder, perhaps slightly jealous of the attention he was gracing her competitor with. A deep chuckle rumbled from his throat as he spoke. “Ah ha now that is the catch isn’t it, Miss Kina? Depends on what you want the odds to be, love; call the roll and make the bet.

Jakys untangled an arm from the emerald lovely to reach to for a glass of Tallian wine. “Jus’ gives every man a straight chance, aye?” The Devoronian smiled into his drink as a chorus of acknowledging voices piped up. He licked a drop of the alcohol from his lips and passed the glass to his female companions, motioning across the table. “Least that’s what th’House wants us poor chaps t’think!” That got a chuckle even out of the dealers.

“Hmmph, I still don’t understand it,” one of the girls huffed. Jakys grinned with his flat teeth and gently pulled close by the shoulder. He deposited the die in her hand in plain sight of the dealers, passing his chance to shoot. The green-skinned Kina looked at the dice in surprise.

“Might I front the lovely bird’s bet? At the House’s leisure o’course.” A nod from the human in the box and Jakys brought Kina up to the rail. With a flick of the hand, the Devaronian placed a thousand credit chip on the table.

“Thousand on the Pass, if y’please.” With the pre-role Pass Line wagers already moved about by the stick-man, Jakys back-up to give Kina to spot-light and slipped an arm around the Arali’s waist. “Make sure t’hit th’ back o’th table, love. Eleven an big red wins the roll."

Kina’s face scrunched up at the term. “I thought it was eleven and se……”

"SSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

She jumped a bit as everyone at the table worriedly hushed the poor girl. “Sorry there, is bad luck t’say that word.” Jakys gave her a reassuring smile as the dealer called, ”Appendages high, let ‘em fly!”

Silence from the onlookers as the Twi’lek sent the dice tumbling down the table, just barely bouncing of the back end and slowing to a halt. A down trodden look washed over Kina’s face as the dice read three and five and she sent a sourful towards Jakys.

“No worries, dear, no win, but no loss either. Eight’s the point.” While most of the table broke into noise as the wagers started rolling in, the a few keen eyes focused on the Devaronian to see what he would call. A sly smile crept over his face, the sharpened teeth almost peeking into view.

“Oi, let’s spice this up a bit.” Drawing eyes on himself, Jakys slid three thousand credits, the credit limit for the table, worth of chips forward and exclaimed. “Two-way parlay on hard eights!”

A mix of mocking snickers and approving exclamations rang out in the area, attracting the attention of several standers-by at nearby tables. The dealers wore a look of slight amazement…and hope…at the bet Jakys was intending to split even with them.

“What is that all about?” He glanced down at Arali’s flawless face beside him.

“Hard eights is when pair o’ fours show. Lose the fi’st wage, but pays ten t’one on the secon’….”

The sound of the dealer calling the role drew the two back to the table and the dice that Kina sent bouncing down the length of the table. Every being was focused on the pair of cubes as the tumbled, turned, twisted, and spun off the back wall. A gasp went up as one settled on four and the other still twirled on its axis. Jakys never broke gaze with the die, his finger twitched without notice.

And the cube tipped to a halt with four on its surface. The crowd exploded into raucous noise, some mourning their losses, but most surrounding the Devaronian and his attractive companions with praise and pats on the back. Kina wore a bright grin that could melt ice and the dealers beamed in excitement at the fifteen-thousand credits they would be getting to split amongst themselves.

Among the excitement and toast, a poor casino employee tried to thread his way through the throng of gamblers and retainers. Somehow the human managed to stumbled through to Jakys.

“Sir…Mr. Sei’Trem, I have an urgent personal message for you.”

Eyebrow raised, the Devaronian sent a look of good-natured chiding that the young man think to pull him away from a hot table and the gorgeous women that had attached themselves to him.

“That right? Ah well, urgent is urgent.” Jakys gave the messenger his back for a moment and divided the rest of his winnings in two. An equal share to each Kina and Arali, much to the delight, as well as a kiss on the cheek for both that brought the two to a fit of giggling. “Y’two ladies keep th’table warm for me, aight? I’m sure this’ll only be a tick.”

As the table occupants went back to their game, Jakys followed the human way from the main casino lounge where the noise and music weren’t as loud.

“That was very generous of you, sir.” The messengers tone took on a strange tone, as if he were more afraid of the Devaronian than impressed with his charity.

“Nothin’ I can’t win back. Now let’s see th’message.”

A new-age datapad was placed in the high-roller’s hand. A single message silently opened on its screen; restricted Imperial code with the author heading by the name of Esalis.

“Well isn’t this interesting?” Jakys lost all trace of accent from his voice.

[Qourr Mhawat]

Her head came up the moment the doorway whooshed open; she'd been looking forward to another confrontation with the security officer with the changing attitude. But it was Jekaan who stepped into the room this time - ahead of the security officer, and free of any form of restraint.

She was about to make a quip about him getting old and slow, when she noticed the look on his face. And turned the grin on her face into a frown.

Her partner gestured at her, and then motioned the security officer forward. "You can release her, I will take responsibility for her."

Qourr raised one eyebrow, quizzically. What was this?

The officer stepped up to her and bent down to undo the stuncuffs around her wrist, and as he was doing so his head was next to hers. Almost inaudibly, he heard him whisper into her ear: "He's with Intel, watch it girl or it'll be your life!"

For a moment she didn't know how to react. It was obvious Jekaan was his own master, and had been able to verify his position, but then why was this fool here thinking she wasn't? Because he hasn't told them, she concluded, but couldn't come to fathom why. Whatever it was, he had to have his reasons however, and she'd been trained to go along.

As the stuncuffs came off her wrists finally, she gave off a very low whimper, and whispered back "Ohhhh no!!!!", yet there was amusement in her eyes as she looked at her partner who had probably guessed the officer's actions.

The officer, still bent over her, never noticed, and whispered back "Sorry girl..."

Jekaan bellowed a harsh-sounding "Come along now!" at them, and Qourr jumped up and walked over to him, closely followed by Chief Pallar.

[Kal Olorin]

There was some sort of ruckus going on in the detention wing, Pallar hadn't had much time to forward on information but I'd heard the words "Imperial Agents" and decided that I really didn't want to get involved. Of course, if the ship's crew fumbled the situation I'd have to roll up my sleeves and go to work smoothing relations over with the Empire.

Which might be easy enough, if I had the information on the Moff that I was supposed to have right now. Stopping outside the suite I'd arranged for my little thief, I nodded to the two security personnel who were outside. "I can take it from here."

"Right, sir," said the taller of the two, and they awkwardly salute/nodded, keyed the door unlocked for me, and left.

I pushed the controls, and the door slid open softly. "Still with me, Ms. Wenq?" Walking inside, I wasn't surprised to find her sitting in the main room, legs crossed demurely in the ridiculous shimmersilk dress someone had found for her to wear. She was a little too skinny for it, but it was still... very attractive.

Good.

"Ready for some fun?" I asked, putting on my most winning smile.

[Tri'ahna Zylary]

Brought back from her reverie she looked at him blankly for a moment. Wenq? It took a few seconds until she remembered that it meant her. A sudden urge to giggle welled up in her but she managed to stifle it - it would have sounded too hysterical.

That cold, calculating part of her was still there. She still felt the same numbness as she had when she'd sat down, and now she could not even remember what she had been thinking of all this time she'd sat there.

It must be shock. Is this what happens to someone under shock?

Tri'ahna stood up, smoothed the wrinkles out of the dress. The smile on her face seemed to belong to the automaton that she was becoming rather than her. She didn't feel capable to smile, really, but it was there.

"Yes."

And that was that other one's voice, not hers. She walked as if in a dream, not sure if her feet even touched the ground.

"What now?"

[Kal Olorin]

"Now," I said, "We eat. The docs say its important you keep your strength up after your bacta treatments." I smiled down at her, and reached into the small closet by the door to the suite. "I think... yes, here it is." I pulled a white jacket from a hanger, and handed it to the girl. "Help keep you warm... the Morning Star isn't always set to a temperature suitable for shimmersilk."

She pulled on the jacket, which made her cocktail dress more casual, but still classy, and followed me out of the suite. I have standing reservations on the observation deck of Starlight, the best restaurant on the liner. It would be about an hour before the Moff would be hitting the casino floor - everyone had to eat sometime and he always dined at the same hour every evening. Well, what passed for evening among the stars.

I gallantly put out my arm to Tri'ahna, and after a moment she took it. It was a short walk to the turbolifts, and a slightly longer ride on a people-mover to the restaurant. "A good meal always makes me feel better," I said, punching the button inside the 'lift for the correct floor.