Star Wars: Vode An (closed for Apollo Wilde and BewareTheDream)

At first, Raeth was shocked by Saudaji's blunt response. Saddened, too. For the past few days, he had been daydreaming about a life of planet-hopping with Saudaji, free of the Sith's orders. He thought it was a most pleasant idea. But without hesitation, she dismissed it as an option worse than death.

Raeth's expression sunk to reflect his hurt. However, when he listened to what else she had to say, his mood lifted a little. Grudgingly, he admitted that there was sense to how she saw the situation. He didn't agree, but he respected it. The feel of her fingers on his made him crack a small smile, which widened when he felt her lips on his knuckles.

"Oh, I'm onto something, all right. You'll see." The agent tried to regain his usually haughty attitude, but his voice was softer than usual. As much as he tried to tell himself that this was a simple difference in outlooks, Saudaji's words created a sinking feeling in his gut that he wasn't familiar with. An urge to walk through the Pylat's halls suddenly overcame him, so he shot up to his feet and began to exit the dining room.

"I've uploaded the Sator Station schematics to your datapad," he nearly blurted out. "Please memorize them. We'll be arriving in a little over 5 hours." With that, Raeth hurried to his workbench in the cargo bay. Some tinkering would surely get his head straight.

*****

Hours later, when Raeth and Saudaji were both in the cockpit, Raeth was back to his usual, upbeat self. They stood at the briefing table, getting their gear ready and discussing a few final details about what they expected to go down in Sator.

"Same as usual: recon first." The two of them stuck to the same basic strategy for each of their missions, and this would be no different: they'd start with distant recon, then gradually move closer to the target as they gathered more intel.

"We'll learn what we can about Vandelay Import & Export without visiting their office. Visit the docking bay if you must, but no closer than that. Ask around, learn what you can about their staff, find out if this Vandelay is a real person. If not, find out who writes the checks." The only thing Raeth was able to find about Arturo Vandelay on the holonet looked like a fake bio crafted by someone who worked in marketing or something equally-insidious. The questionable authenticity of Vandelay's bio was a red flag he shared with Saudaji.

She was free to gather intel in whatever way she thought best, using whatever cover story she wished. Raeth would go in disguised as a run-of-the-mill station mechanic. He had the credentials already forged, and he was already wearing a gray utility jumpsuit whose pockets were loaded with real tools, as well as weapons and nasty, little devices that a mechanic wouldn't normally carry around. A leather cap that covered almost all of his head, large goggles, and a fake beard obscured his face in case someone was watching for him, specifically.

"This guy's good. Or these guys are good. Check in regularly." Raeth wouldn't insult Saudaji by saying, 'be careful'. That shit was obvious. But she could tell that message was hidden between the lines. And although he didn't exactly look stressed-out, she'd notice that he wasn't as laid back as usual. Normally, he treated missions like games. They were fun for him. This time, however, he didn't appear to be having fun.

Though she still (if she was being honest), occasionally had a hard time reading him, the deflation in his emotions was clear as dawn to her. However, she chose not to say anything. She wasn’t nearly as eloquent as him, and tensions were already running high. The last thing she wanted to do was start a fight.

Twisting her lips to the side in an expression of mild annoyance (easily masked as thoughtfulness), she merely sighed. What could he honestly understand? Though he claimed to have had a childhood, he’d never experienced freedom like she had. The freedom of not being tethered to one job or the other – the ability to walk away and leave it all behind and have that be the end of it. It was because she felt she had nothing else to live for – after years of aimless wandering, of trying to come to terms with the loss of Mahoroba – that she’d taken this job, dazzled by the idea of eking some revenge. And thank whatever…omnipresent being that set this crazy galaxy in motion that in her time with Raeth, she’d rediscovered a real reason for living. One that she wasn’t going to trade in for the bleak prospect of running from the Sith for the rest of it.

So, while he tinkered, she did what she did best when frustrated – trained. The repetitive thunk of her side dagger into a target turned monotonous after the first few minutes. Stray shots (unusual for her) inched closer and closer to the center of the target, until her throwing and retrieving became a practice in bullseyes, one after the other. When her arm throbbed from the exertion, she ran her fingers over the grooves her blade had left behind.

She’d find the words for him eventually.

++++++

Her disguise wasn’t quite as mundane as his – but it was one that she relished. When they met again, Saudaji’s jade skin had been replaced by a pink flesh tone, her lekku wound about her throat. She was immaculately dressed in a clean suit – and was taller. The more feminine of her features had been contoured and blended away, leaving a handsome Twi’lek youth in her place. Completing the look were plain, black framed glasses.

The role of a civil servant, specifically, an intern, while considerably less glamorous than her stage persona, was one that she actually felt more at home in. It could be argued that she was potentially taking a risk by remaining as a “Twi’lek,” but she’d pulled gigs before without bothering to disguise her race. Plus, there was something to be said about being uncommonly attractive – or at least appearing to be. That element of surprise, faint infatuation, well, it could be just as misleading as a more drastic change in appearance. Still, for the androgynous appeal that she displayed now, there was something of a “non-entity” about her, suggesting the ability to melt into a crowd of similarly suited young men and women.

Beside him now, he would be surprised that she was his height, though her figure was much slimmer, bordering on almost skinny. The faint lingering of clean soap and cologne licked around her throat, and she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. A signet ring glimmered on the left hand. A gentle squeeze, before she lightly kissed his cheek. If she said anything now, she couldn’t trust herself not to falter.

Letting go, she gave him a rueful smile, lightly tussling at his fake beard before she was walking down the hall and away from him.

+++++++++

Re’vi Be-al-Son was going to be someone. At least, that’s what all of his paperwork said. He was currently at the top of his class, some high end university well known for money, and old money at that, that was trying to change the face of its very human enrollment patterns. So, plucked fresh from the dust pit of Ryloth, here he was. Or at least, he was, in a past tense. He’d been adopted when he was but a baby, so, truthfully, the only thing truly “Twi’lek” about him was his species. He was an affable young man with a charming laugh and a clumsy courtliness that made him all the more endearing to those that encountered him, even those who were the most against non-humans.

So, it’d come as no small surprise that he was the winner of an internship for Vandelay Import and Export, something the business was wont to do to keep it “grounded” and “invested” in the youth of the galaxy. True, it wasn’t one of the best internships out there, but it would be decent enough for those who were honestly invested to turn into a somewhat lucrative career. Not mediocre, but not stellar, either.

The receptionist looked up from her glowing screens and tried not to laugh as Re’vi entered, slightly stumbling into the revolving doors as his briefcase got caught. With a mild huff of surprise, he’d wrenched it free, and, after smoothing down the front of his immaculate suit, turned to face her. And that’s when her breath caught. Not that she was a stranger to daydreaming about attractive young men wandering into her office and whisking her away for a life of adventure, but what was the likelihood of it actually happening?

When he smiled, she felt like she was caught in a solar flare.

“Excuse me,” his voice was a mild, inoffensive tenor, a heavy Core World accent slipping from each syllable, “I’m to be expected. I’m Re’vi Be-al-Son, for the internship?”

“Oh, yes,” stammered the receptionist, pulling herself together. She had a grandson his age, for goodness sakes! “I’m Mrs. Winterbourne.” Her brows knit momentarily before she looked down at her desk chrono. “Oh, my, but you’re early!”

“I’m a firm believer in arriving early,” Re’vi said, that innocuous smile reminding her of comfort food and a warm blanket. “If it’s an inconvenience...”

“Oh, none at all,” she added, flustered. “But could I get you something to drink?”

He contemplated it, rubbing at his chin before flashing that placid smile again. “Actually, Mrs. Winterbourne…do you prefer tea or coffee?”

++++++

When the suits arrived, it was to the unusual site of Mrs. Winterbourne not actually at her desk, but in the midst of the waiting room, sitting merrily on the couch. On the table in front of the couch sat two steaming cups of coffee, sweet pastries wedged between them.

“Oh, and this was the summer my daughter, she’s a lovely girl, you know, had her fourth son. Oh, if you can imagine what a fiasco that house was! All of my lovely knitting, gone, just like that!” she snapped her fingers. “But not entirely a loss – I knitted a ‘I love my brother’ sweater where the two boys would be forced together in it, and my, did that put an end to those fights!”

Re’vi let out a musical chuckle – amused without sounding the slightest hint patronizing. A nice laugh that would make the listener smile themselves without quite knowing why. “My, my, Mrs. Winterbourne, but you are a card!”

“Only a loving grandmother, love – though I’m soon to be a great-grandmother, don’t you know!”

“My!”

Initially, Raeth was annoyed when Saudaji explained her plan to immediately get a job right there at the Vandelay office. It was like she completely ignored what he said about sticking to the procedures that worked for them in the past. (Worked until recently, anyway.) He didn't see enough logic to it. They argued, but neither of them were willing to adjust their opinions on the matter. Raeth walked away before he said something he'd later regret.

His aggravation simmered down a little bit when he saw the Twi'lek in her disguise. It was remarkable, he had to admit. This wasn't the first time he had seen her change her skin color, but that didn't diminish how much he was impressed by the execution. She somehow managed to hide her sizable chest, as well. All-in-all, she succeeded in transforming herself into a pretty male.

Once again, the agent found new reason to feel annoyed, this time because he realized Saudaji was more skilled at disguise than he was. He usually used things like masks, full-face helms, and costumes to disguise himself as one of the many sentient races that showed little-to-no skin, including those that couldn't survive in Human-friendly environments without protection. But he realized that this was the path of least resistance; that shit was easy. Saudaji, on the other hand, used various tricks to become other people. What she did was more difficult, yet the results were as good, if not better.

Part of him was annoyed that she was, once again, proving to be better at him at a skill he once took pride in. But another part of him, another voice in his head said that maybe letting her do things her way once in a while wasn't such a bad thing.

Although he still wore his aggravation on his face like a mask, he no longer argued with her about her decision. He even smiled, a little, when she kissed his cheek and messed with his new beard. Who was he foolin'? He should've known by now that he couldn't stay mad at her for long.

"I'll watch your back," he reminded her before they left the Patient Pylat and set foot on Sator Station.

*****

The mechanic's ID, which he wore in a plastic sleeve over his heart, said that his name was Dylvan Friendo. The picture on the badge was pretty awful: poor lighting, unflattering angle, stupid smile that looked as though the photographer captured the moment when Dylvan was deciding between a smile or a straight face. It looked as bad as most ID photos, which was intentional.

After all, Raeth enjoyed pouring over little details like that.

Dylvan's first assignment since he suddenly appeared on the station was to replace the air filters of the air units between sections 15A through 15G. This was work that any monkey could do, which was exactly the kind of assignments he needed. He was done in a matter of minutes, but he'd tell the person who submitted the work order that it would take a few hours. During that extra time, he focused on his real job.

Raeth had recently begun referring to his spy drones as "spy flies". He felt silly that he hadn't thought of the name sooner. As he sat on his duff in the middle of a rarely-used utility corridor, with a datapad on his lap and a partially eaten sandwich in his hand, he controlled the spy fly that entered the Vandelay office moments before Re'vi did.

"One of these nights, I should ask her to wear that costume to bed," he thought to himself. Through the eyes of a fly, he watched her work.

*****

The next person that walked through the revolving door was the guy who ran the joint.

"Hello!" A cheerful voice rang from across the room. Recognizing the voice immediately, Mrs. Winterbourne politely paused the conversation with Re'vi, looked up, and stood up.

"I'm terribly sorry I'm late. There was a so-called 'emergency' I had to take care off at the docks before going to the office this morning." The man that approached looked elderly, yet his pace was brisk. He wore a suit that was custom-tailored to hide his almost pear-shaped body. If not for Re'vi's keen eyes, it may have worked. The man had a thick, neatly-trimmed mustache that was curled at the ends and kept stiff with a bit of wax. His facial hair would've been considered weird in some of the Core Worlds' cities, but in this sector it was becoming fashionable among sentients that could actually grow lip fuzz. His mustache, like the hair on his head, was as white as snow. And although his hairline looked like it had been on the retreat for years, what hair he had left looked thick and healthy.

"That's quite all right, Mr. Vandelay," Mrs. Winterbourne smiled. "I've been keeping our guest entertained. This is Re'vi Be-al-Son, our new intern. Re'vi, Arturo Vandelay." The receptionist gestured, graciously, between the Twi'lek and the Human as she made introductions.

"Yes, yes, of course!" Arturo offered his hand to the new recruit. His handshake, much like his walk, was energetic, and his grip was more powerful than one might expect. "Please call me Art. Everybody in the office does, except for Mrs. Winterbourne here. No matter how much I tell her not to, she insists on formality. One of these days I'll get her to loosen up a bit!" There was a hint of laughter in his voice, and his beaming smile seemed to reach his eyes.

There was something about that smile that seemed familiar.

Mrs. Winterbourne giggled and made a 'Oh, stop it!' gesture that someone might make to an old friend or a brother. "Will you two be talking in your office before you show him around? I can bring tea or coffee to you if you'll be staying for a bit."

"What were you drinking before I barged in? Tea? That sounds good. Yes, please, bring it to my office." Art put a wrinkled, spotted hand on Re'vi's shoulder, as though he had known him all his life. "Re'vi and I have much to talk about, don't we?"

With that, Arturo Vandelay lead Re'vi to his office so he could start getting to know the new intern.

It had to have been her imagination. She’d seen that smile before - the same crinkling at the corner of the eyes, the childish joy.

An imperceptible narrowing of her eyes was her only outward reaction to the boisterous Arturo, quickly masked by her returning handshake.

“I believe I will rely on formality,” Re’vi responded, in an amiable, but polite tone. “Mr. Vandelay.” At the clap of Arturo’s hand on his shoulder, Re’vi started slightly, in the chill manner of someone that was not used to intimate contact. Rather than appearing off-putting, it was charming in its own awkward way, a moment of vulnerability in the young man’s otherwise elegant facade. Still - enough was enough, and with a gentle slip of his shoulders, Re’vi flowed from under Arturo’s grasp as if the elder man had never laid a hand on him to begin with.

+++++

Two cups of tea later, and Re’vi still looked as fresh as ever.

Saudaji, however, was internally screaming.

This old man had a mouth on him. Not a foul one - but he could talk. And talk. And talk. Though she was practiced at turning conversations and listening to what wasn’t being said as much as what was being said, she still found it a taxing experience. It’s why she hated longer term gigs under more “mundane” disguises. Being a “man” was always a fun thrill, though - and settling back into her chair as Arturo continued to speak, she felt quite comfortable as Re’vi - though she wished he was born out of a more thrilling purpose - like law enforcement.

As much as she wanted to tilt her head back and mimic loud snoring, as Re’vi, she kept polite interest, asking the right questions when the conversation needed, and spoke easily about “his” job abilities - and even got so friendly as to tip toe into the topic of hobbies. Despite Re’vi’s outward friendly appearance, she played him cool. The type of young man that’s an enigma - intelligent, well-read, and infinitely more interested in things that had clear solutions. Things like “relationships” and “crushes” were outside of his realm of expertise, and every time the conversation leaned towards that aspect of the personal, “he” was exceedingly polite in steering it back.

Eventually, Saudaji’s patience paid off. So impressed by Re’vi’s attitude, clear discretion, and capabilities, Re’vi’s role would be more of an executive assistant than an intern.

“After all - interns are usually go-fors around here - to help Mrs. Winterbourne, but you, you my boy, you’d be wasted on coffee runs!” Arturo was standing now, his hands slapped firmly on the surface of his desk in front of him. The now empty teacup rattled in its saucer.

“I’m honored, Mr. Vandelay,” Re’vi replied, standing with a fluid motion. Empty sugar packet wrappers were neatly folded onto the saucer. “You will not regret this decision.” Barely contained excitement, filtered through ice.

“I’m going to get you to call me ‘Art’ as well by the time your internship’s over, or I’ll eat my shoe!” chuckled the older man, slapping Re’vi on the back. Slightly staggered by the blow, Re’vi merely chuckled.

A few days of undercover worked passed on Sator Station. Saudaji's decision to pose as an intern at Vandelay Import & Export paid off, immediately - once she was assigned her own workstation and network access, she provided Raeth with an "in" that made it child's play to access the company's data, undetected. Without that access, it would've probably taken him a day or two to infiltrate the network, since Vandelay's security protocols turned out to be more sophisticated than a shipping company's should be.

To him, that was another red flag that Art wasn't who he said he was. Raeth was practically convinced that Saudaji's new boss was either associated with whoever sabotaged them, or was the saboteur himself. The agent informed her of this during one of their regular check-ins.

During the days, Raeth - as Dylvan Friendo - quickly completed whatever insultingly simple work orders came his way, so that he could monitor Saudaji through the lens of a spy fly, as well as pour over Vandelay's data, without distractions. Unfortunately, after three days he found no other evidence that the company wasn't what it seemed. The financial activities weren't suspicious. Their various suppliers and clients all checked out. Nothing seemed out of place.

Saudaji didn't appear to find anything promising on her end, either. Raeth watched her go about the mundane tasks that were normal for an executive assistant. That shit was boring for him; he could only imagine how boring it must've been for her.

Of more interest were her long, mostly one-sided conversations with the boss man. While Saudaji did the hard work of pretending to be a different person, Raeth sat in an out-of-the-way corner of the space station and studied the old man that occupied his datapad screen. He listened to his meandering, pointless stories and tried to dissect them for some secret meaning or hint as to who he really was. He zoomed in on Art's face to better study his expressions, his eyes. He also tried to identify any flaws of the disguise, but he found none. Either this guy really was a cheerful, white-haired bore who owned a shipping company, or he was a master of acting and disguise. The lack of evidence began to frustrate him.

Raeth was frustrated further by what he found when he spied on Art after business hours - i.e. more nothing. The agent flew a spy fly through the station's ventilation system to get it into Vandelay's nice, but not outrageous, apartment. There, it captured hours of footage of Vandelay eating, sleeping, screaming at the holonet screen when he watched sports of game shows, and basically behaved like an average old man. Raeth even watched the guy use the bathroom, because if there was ever a point when a facade would crack, it'd be when someone's crack hit the porcelain. But no, Art pooped like an old man.

For fun, Raeth sent Saudaji footage of her boss using the bathroom. "Would you still love me if I looked like this in 50 years?" was the message that accompanied the video file, along with an animated smiley emoji. That's how bored he was that night. He also began to suspect that he may have been wrong, and that Art wouldn't lead them to the saboteur.

Things got a interesting the following day. However, it wasn't the sort of interesting they needed to get their asses out of hot water with the Sith.

*****

"How's my favorite Twi'lek doing today, huh?" That's how Vandelay greeted Re'vi that morning.

Art, naturally, had the biggest office in the company. It was big enough for two people, which was why Re'vi's work station was in a corner across from his boss' wide desk. Art sauntered around Re'vi's desk immediately after his office door shut, stood behind and beside him, and gave the new hire a friendly pat to the shoulder. Everything that Art did was friendly, as a matter of fact. Too friendly, at times.

"I've got good news for you, my boy! We're going to get you away from that computer screen today so I can show you how things are done at the docks. Doesn't that sound like fun?" The hand that landed on Re'vi's shoulder didn't go away after the overly familiar pat was delivered. It lingered on his shoulder. Wrinkled fingers began to knead it, tentatively at first, but more boldly as time went on.

"My, you're built like a rock under that nice suit," Art observed. "How often do you work out?" He moved his spotted hand off the Twi'lek's shoulder, not because he was done touching him, but because he wanted to stand behind his chair and put a hand on each of his shoulders. Despite Re'vi's apparent discomfort with intimate contact, his boss insisted on giving him an impromptu shoulder massage. Art's grip was stronger than one would expect for someone his age.

"First, we're going to go to Dock 13 so you can watch me settle a minor disagreement. I don't expect that to take more than an hour, as long as the people I talk to choose to listen to reason." Vandelay slid his hands down Re'vi's upper arms to feel his delts. He even dared to reach down further to get a feel of his biceps before his fingers crawled back up to his shoulders to resume the massage. While doing this, he kept talking as though what he was doing was not inappropriate, at all. "After that, we'll swing by Dock 3 to receive a shipment of wulkenso eggs. Have you ever eaten a wulkenso egg before? They're a delicacy here in Bright Jewel. Very delicate, though, and tricky to transport. Not like you though. You don't feel delicate at all.

"Tell me, Re'vi, how are you liking it here, so far? Can you see yourself working for me for the long term? Even though you're new, I can already tell that you and I could work VERY well together." Art once again got two handfuls of Re'vi's delts, and squeezed. He inhaled, sharply, through his nostrils, when he did.

*****

On the other side of Sator Station, Raeth shot up to his feet when he saw this happening on his screen. "What the faaaaark..." he whispered to himself, wide-eyed and expecting Saudaji to murder the guy, right then and there.

He contacted Sebastian on the comm. "Sebastian, prep for launch and get to the cockpit."

"Copy. What's happening, Master?" Sebastian didn't sound annoyed as it usually was. When Raeth and Saudaji were off-ship during missions, it typically adopted its battle droid persona. It was only during off-hours that it became the judgmental, easily-ruffled protocol droid that supplied Raeth with hours of entertainment.

"It might be nothing, or it might be go time. I'll let you know, either way."

"Understood." The droid did as its master instructed while Raeth watched what happened next.

His duties were relatively simple (for him, anyway), but myriad. Organize these files. Generate those reports. Get this budget over to accounting. Review payroll. Plan this party. As the days went on, and the workload increased, it also became a running joke that the company only really had two workers - Re’vi and Arturo.

As Re’vi, she kept long hours and early mornings, fueled by coffee in the evening, before transitioning to a single glass of red wine. Re’vi usually stayed later than all others, and arrived earlier, creating the running joke that the young Twi’lek never went home; simply unrolled a sleeping bag from under his desk to grab a few hours of sleep before he was at it again. The late hours, however, made it much easier for her to communicate with Raeth - including viewing his “charming” videos of her boss on the can. She’d scowl, roll her eyes, and go back to whatever report she was working on. Raeth’s sense of humor could be surprisingly juvenile - but, then again, he was still a man. And growing up with a myriad of brothers had taught her from a very young age that men never truly grew up.

Still, despite the initial “gross” factor, she’d watch the videos, careful to note anything out of place. Save for the nagging feeling that she’d seen that smile…somewhere, before, nothing stuck out to her, which only served to heighten her annoyance. Time wasted on watching an old fart take a shit when she had a presentation due bright and early. Shabla.

_________

Well.

That was unexpected. In her digging, she hadn’t found anything that remotely suggested that Arturo was…interested in men. However, she wasn’t entirely surprised. Re’vi was a handsome man - androgynous, capable, distant, charming. She’d set him up that way. Plus, she was also trucking on old prejudices held about the sexuality and availability of Twi’leks. Though Re’vi didn’t seem the “typical” Twi’lek, she’d allowed those “touchy-feely” sessions to slowly melt the ice over the young man’s exterior. To create the facade that he just needed to “get used to it” before reciprocating.

It was all genius, if you asked her. Nothing loosened tongues than the possibility of sex.

At Arturo’s proclamation, Re’vi merely looked up from his flickering screens, the light reflecting cool blue in his glasses. “As you wish, sir.”

The older man’s hands landed on his shoulders. Re’vi let out a long, slow exhale, making sure to purse his lips as he did so. The gesture was deliberately meant to draw attention to the smoothness of his lips, the skin of his cheeks, but without being over the top. For someone as observant (after all, he’d caught Arturo blatantly staring at him. Amazing how useful daily office objects could be when it came to spying. Something as simple as the reflective surface of a screen was wonderful for discreet watching) as Arturo appeared to be, Saudaji was quite confident that the old goat wouldn’t have missed the subtle invitation to look.

“Physical activity keeps the mind sharp, sir. I indulge when I can, though much to my detriment that I have not been able to do so lately.” Re’vi made no move to shake Arturo’s hands off of his shoulders, and merely kept tapping away at the report in front of him. He listened without listening, all the while, focusing on her breathing. Times like this, she wanted to belt anyone for thinking of Twi’leks as little more than sex dolls, but the breathing reminded her that she was on a mission - and if she could use the old bastard’s odd attraction to Re’vi to her advantage, she’d do so. Although a small part of her sulked - if she ended up having to sleep with someone on this mission, she would have at least hoped for someone younger and more attractive. Ah well. Those were the breaks.

As Arturo squeezed on her delts, she decided to be coy in her response. A slight flexing of the muscles to entice, passed off as a mere readjustment in her chair. “I’m honored that you think so highly of me, sir.” Her voice was controlled, allowing the thinnest hint of what could be called gratitude out. “While I’m pleased that we work well together, this internship is but for a few months. After that, well…”

He turned to face Arturo now, allowing a bit of an unguarded expression to cross his face. “If I may be so bold, I’m at a crossroads. While I have enjoyed working here and making your acquaintance, I’m torn. I think I should go into Law - what do you think?” A raise of those dark brows, the quirk of those very kissable lips.

The first thing Re'vi saw when he turned around was his boss smiling down at him. The smile was lecherous, and Arturo's lips - unlike the Twi'lek's - looked dry and not very kissable at all.

"Law? Oh, no. No no. Someone as naughty as you shouldn't pursue a career in law." Art released Re'vi's upper arms when he spun around in his chair, but his greedy hands hurried back as soon as they could. This time, he groped at the new hire's delts with more hunger in his touch, thanks to the unspoken invitation in his touch.

Art dragged a hand away from one of Re'vi's arms. With a trembling thumb, he caressed his employee's tempting lips. The thumb tip felt as dry as the old man's lips looked.

"Forget about law, dear boy. Stay with me, and I can promise you a lucrative career. One in which you can free to do whatever you want." Somewhat awkwardly, the boss stooped down, lowering his face, his mouth towards the Twi'lek's. Their lips just barely touched - they touched just enough for Re'vi to taste a hint of coffee - when...

Beep beep. Beep Beep.

Arturo's desk communicator lit up and rang. His back snapped straight, and he looked confused for a moment. "Damn it!" His movements screaming with agitation, he rushed to his desk and pressed a button. "Yes, what is it?" He asked after clearing his throat and forcing himself to sound calm.

"Mr. Vandelay, I have Mr. Krietz on hold." It was Mrs. Winterbourne on the comm. "He's wondering if you can meet him half an hour earlier this morning? If not, then he'll have to reschedule for tomorrow at 0830."

Art sighed, running his palm over the thick, white hair at the back of his head. "Typical. He's trying to throw me off before negotiations, and he's being really clumsy about it. Please call him back and tell him I'll meet him 30 minutes early today."

"Okay, Mr. Vandelay."

"Thank you." Mrs. Winterbourne clicked off the line.

Art turned from the comm to his new hire, the taste of whom was still fresh on his lips. He licked them before grinning like a shark. "I'm sorry, my boy, no time for fun right now; we need to get to get to Dock 13."

The boss man paused to consider something. As he thought, he sauntered back over to Re'vi, and much like he did after he first came into his office, he put a hand on his shoulder. "After we're done work for the day, why don't we have dinner at my place? How does that sound?" Once again, fingers that were strong for a man of his age kneaded at the new hire's firm shoulder. He obviously appreciated how solid Re'vi was built.

A pen to the neck, and all of this would be over. All she would have to do was clamp her hand over the old man’s mouth, and it would be taken care of. However, there would be the small matter of all of that blood. His escape.

Shabla.

“ ‘Naughty’, sir?” was Re’vi’s slow, measured reply. The response had caught Saudaji by surprise; after all, there was nothing inherently “naughty” about this persona. Unless, of course, the old man was being an old letch.

Still, much to Saudaji’s credit, all of her revulsion didn’t show as Arturo caressed her lower lip with his thumb. Nor did the murderous intent that she had towards him. If anything, there was a hint of slight confusion, of debating, within those her eyes, carefully concealed behind gray iris enhancers. There was no pursing of his lips as Arturo grew closer; Saudaji having made the split second decision to continue to play coy. It seemed that the old man was fairly drunk off of the slightest suggestion – and if she could continue to draw him out without having to get physically close, all the better.

She sighed a heavy sigh of internal relief when the alarm went off. It would allow her to gather herself back together, to continue to string the old goat along. She figured that he’d be the type to go for the coy, “but sir, I don’t know what you mean,” but secretly “longing for an older man to teach him the ways of physical pleasure that he was an utter stranger to.” It was an ego thing.

“I have a prior engagement, sir,” Saudaji lied smoothly. Couldn’t let the old man think she was easy, after all, “but perhaps afterwards, if it is not too late?” A slight raise of Re’vi’s thick brows spoke volumes.

Art raised his bushy eyebrows before his lips slowly spread into a grin. "You've already made evening plans? What a popular boy you are! For someone who behaves so properly, deep down I could tell you're a playboy." He boop'ed Re'vi's nose with the tip of his index finger. His shoulders scrunched up, for a moment, as he tittered gleefully.

"Fine, fine, I'll share you tonight. But you'd better show up at my apartment later." He waggled a finger at him, the same finger he used to for nose boopin'. Still grinning, Art practically skipped over to his desk, rummaged around his drawers for something, then came back with a rectangular, plastic card in his hand.

"Here - my keycard. I live on Deck 22, Unit 135. Just let yourself in. I'll be up, waiting for you." More of that creepy, excited tittering as he handed the Twi'lek the card. "And don't go giving this to any of your friends!"

Art returned to his desk, this time to get his briefcase. "Are you ready to go? We don't have much time to spare if we're to get to Dock 13 on time."

Unless Re'vi had other plans in mind, he would accompany his boss throughout a day of shipping-related business. They were on their feet, if not on the move, for much of the day, rushing from one end of the station in the morning, then to the other in the afternoon. They didn't have any alone time, so Re'vi didn't have to worry about fending off Mr. Vandelay's advances until that night.
 
*****

"Sebastian," Raeth said through his comm. "Disregard the last message. Power down the ship. All clear, here."

"Understood, Master." The droid did as it was told, then went back to doing the laundry. Even when it was attending to its butler duties, Sebastian was ready to switch to battle mode at a moment's notice.

Still hidden in an out-of-the-way utility corridor, Raeth admired how Saudaji worked. She appeared to have the old man, hook, line, and sinker. However, a voice in his head admonished him for thinking this would be so easy, and reminded him that if this Vandelay character really was their target, he should not be treated lightly.

Shaking that cautionary voice from his head for a moment, Raeth came up with a new plan for today. His thumbs became twin blurs on his datapad as he typed up a message to Saudaji. Once decoded, the message would read:

"I'm on my way to Dock 13. Get me that keycard so I can make a duplicate. Scan will only take 1 minute, then I'll get it back to you." Once the message was sent, Raeth collected his gear, picked up his toolbox, and made his way to the dock.

*****

At Dock 13, the contract dispute that Mr. Vandelay had to deal with was a lively one, indeed. With the boss focused on the Rodian dock worker yelling at him, it would be easy for Re'vi to get away from him for a few minutes in order to perform the hand-off with Raeth.

Some simple yet effective pickpocket routines were among the many things that Raeth and Saudaji practiced together since they became partners. To get him the keycard, all they had to do was pass by each other in a corridor so she could slip the card into a pocket of his coveralls. Then they'd walk away, without a word or glance shared between them.

Raeth scanned the card, got the data he needed for a duplicate, then returned it to Saudaji using a similar method. The whole exchange was smooth, quick, and it allowed Re'vi to get back to the meeting without being missed.

At this, Re’vi allowed himself to show Arturo the faintest sliver of a sly smile. A charming expression, with sinister overtones. A chill crept into Re’vi’s eyes.

“Something like that, sir,” came his response, chill as the wind on Hoth.

__________

The rest of the day “flew” by, insofar as dull as paint business meetings could go. Standing steadfast by Arturo’s side, a touch screen grasped in his palms, Re’vi dutifully made note of all exchanges that were happening, dictating things verbatim at a speed that didn’t seem possible.

All relevant information, of course, was funneled back to Raeth. Apparently his sense of humor, even in the midst of this mission, had rubbed off on her. She’d add little snide comments with emojis, usually sighing or looking annoyed. Among her comments were suggestions of places to eat, or the name of a band that she heard that she liked (including some childish fan-girling, which, admittedly, was charming – to think, an asseassin that had a weak spot for boy bands), or queries on how big Arturo thought that Re’vi’s junk was.

It was difficult to discern which was more amusing: the fact that Saudaji was sending those notes, or the fact that as Re’vi, she was completely and utterly stone-faced as she typed up ridiculous things as “ZOMG, VIXX’s new single is totally making me cream these boxers – I can’t stop listening to it *_*”

______

The key card had been an unexpected surprise for her. Though she was excellent at her job, she wasn’t so confident that she believed everything would always perfectly go to plan. True, she wasn’t as meticulous as Raeth was (though that was rapidly changing, in her own way), but she had enough contingency plans that she didn’t leave herself much of an option to think on her feet – the complete opposite of how she handled hand-to-hand combat, which was much more “swing first, figure things out later.” If Arturo hadn’t given her the keycard, it would have been a small matter for her to light finger it, do what she needed to, and then return it. After all, why wouldn’t his executive assistant have a copy of his personal key card? Re’vi was privy to sensitive information.

Still, it was hard not to add an extra smug step as she passed the scruffy mechanic in the hall. Raeth had been a much better pickpocket than her (and still was), but she had taken great pleasure in his teaching her. Even though most sessions ended up with them fucking relentlessly, she did actually manage to learn a thing or two.

As she retrieved the original from him, she couldn’t help but to give him a reassuring squeeze of the rear, invisible to who or whatever may have been watching. The sense of danger was ever present, but she had faith in him. Wanted to remind him of that.

______

Re’vi’s “prior” plans weren’t entirely a lie.

If, for any reason, Arturo had reason to suspect him, a tail of Re’vi would reveal the young man’s evening plans: staying late at the office to finish the myriad of reports that crossed his desk, getting a head start on the work for the next day, then, as if realizing the late hour, bolting up to return home, a very modest suite nearby. A quick conversation with the night guard and neighbors, and, then, ohhh, if Arturo was watching, quite the show: Re’vi’s gym time.

Despite his tall, thin frame, Re’vi was elegantly built, as Arturo suspected. Time spent on cardio, a weight session, then, surprisingly enough, meditative stretching. The young man’s flexible was commendable, if not straight up incredible. Afterwards, freshly showered and dressed in another crisp suit, Re’vi was on his way out.

What he would have missed were several more discreet messages with Raeth – ranging from the practical (locations, ETAs) to cheeky – whining about “a gross old man”, and “See, listen! VIXX is on the radio! Turn it to 89.5!”

Arriving at Arturo’s home, Re’vi wasn’t fazed by the sheer opulence around him. If anything, he seemed vaguely…unimpressed. As he idly ran his finger around a marble table, he clicked his tongue in disgust. Dust. Even the finest things in the world were worth nothing if housekeeping was slovenly.

Hm. Dust.

He rubbed his thumb and index finger together, his expression deepening into a frown. The dust was gritty, suggesting construction as opposed to simple laziness. Looking away from the table, Re’vi scanned the room. There was nothing there that suggested renovations; everything else was poised and polished to the utmost.

Hrm.

Rubbing his fingers together further to rid them of the dust, he knocked on Arturo’s door. Yes, he had the keycard, but he wasn’t going to take the risk of just walking in. That was just rude.

Saudaji made Raeth feel so giddy that he had some trouble concentrating. Although the two of them had fallen in love months ago, part of him was still shocked that it happened. Part of him hadn't gotten used to her being playful or affectionate with him, like how she was that day, with the little jokes and other cute messages they digitally exchanged. When she grabbed his rear after the hand-off, he nearly jumped. It felt like a jolt of electricity surged from her touch to his heart, causing it to leap up into his throat. Risking their cover, he turned around to flash her the briefest of smiles through his beard. Clearly, her message was received.

Raeth felt like he was dancing on a ray of sunshine for the rest of the day. Without realizing it, he whistled a happy tune while he worked at either his real job or his cover job.

Using a device he brought from the Pylat, he made a duplicate of Vandelay's keycard. Thanks to Saudaji, he knew that bossman would be away from his apartment for the rest of the day, which meant there was plenty of time to snoop around and perhaps find things that he couldn't find with his spy drone, alone.
False footage was fed to the security cameras that covered the corridors that lead to that section of the living quarters. Once that was done, Raeth made his way over. On the way, he texted another message to Saudaji:

"All right, Beautiful, I'm going in. Radio silence for now; I'll check in with you later, hopefully before your play date.

"By the way: I just downloaded VIXX's performance at the Hemblay Center from last Yelona. We can watch it the next time we have dinner as ourselves.

"Stay safe. I love you."

That was the last message that Raeth sent to her that day.

Although he knew that Saudaji was going to be in an uncomfortable, potentially dangerous position tonight, he had faith in her, just like she had faith in him. Besides, he'd be watching her back as always.

In front of Vandelay's door, Raeth checked if the coast was clear. Satisfied he hadn't been seen, he used the keycard to gain entry, then made his way inside. As he began to look around, part of him daydreamed about his future dinner date with Saudaji.

*****

Same location, hours later.

Seconds after Saudaji knocked on the door, the little speaker beside it fizzled to life, and through it Art said, "Silly boy, I gave you a spare card for a reason! Hee hee hee!" The door opened on its own, which seemed to render the card pointless.

Inside, the Twi'lek huntress got plenty of time to look around. The apartment was spacious, nicely-decorated, and, as she noticed right away, suspiciously dusty. Lights were on everywhere, so it wasn't as though Art could hide in the shadows to pounce at her when she wasn't looking. Classical Tinellian music played, softly, from speakers hidden in the walls or the ceiling.

Something about the place reminded her of a funeral home, if the funeral home had wide windows that showed the emptiness of space beyond.

"Sorry for making you wait, sweet boy," Art's voice came from the same speakers that played the pretty yet melancholy music. "I'm just getting out of the shower. I didn't want to meet with you smelling like a bog monster! Please, make yourself comfortable while I get ready."

A moment's pause before his voice drifted through the walls again. "Or better yet, why don't you come in here to help me make sure I didn't miss any hard-to-reach spot. Hee hee hee!"

Since Art mentioned the shower, Saudaji knew what to look for. There was steam wafting from an open door at the end of one of the halls. If she chose to wait around for Art to appear, he wouldn't. The voice wouldn't come back, either. There'd only be the music, the ever-present hum of the space station, the steam, and the faint sound of running water.

Which was odd. Art said that got out of the shower. Why would it still be running?

Despite the possibility of a naked old man waiting past the door, something about the situation begged her to investigate.

“I am aware, sir,” Re’vi’s tone was its usual, unflappable cool, “but it’s still rude to enter into someone’s home without knocking.” It was said with that slight smile, the smile that sat just so round the corners of his mouth.

Terrible waste of a facial expression, as it turned out.

As she entered, she took in her surroundings with the cool, calculated eye of someone used to much wealth, and who was quite bored with it. One thing all of these rich di’kuts had in common was that money couldn’t buy taste. And this music? Rancid. The slightest crease between his brows was enough to convey his distaste. Well. At least the windows weren’t a complete loss. They made it easy to ignore nearly everything else. Pacing close to one, she resisted the urge to touch the cool glass, looking onto the city below.

At Arturo’s voice, she shuddered, inwardly. She took in a deep, heavy breath. Held it. She could do this. She’d gotten out of much more compromising situations – before they’d become further compromised. Besides, Aruturo was so besotted with Re’vi that a little additional redirection would only serve to fan his fruitless flames.

She had it all planned out; she’d play coy until he was out of the shower, and then ask for wine. A slight distraction, and her signet ring would be put to good use. In it contained a powerful sedative, that, if administered incorrectly, could cause cardiac arrest. Raeth would be proud of her for this one: she’d done her homework. Despite his outward spry appearance, Arturo was on a litany of drugs, and, even more to her advantage, he took at irregular intervals, greatly increasing the probability of them being lethal. Though she’d come in with such knowledge, it was only further enhanced by Mrs. Winterbourne’s well meaning nagging, and Re’vi’s attentive addition of reminders to his calendar. An overdose was inevitable.

“As you wish, sir.”

She padded over to the bathroom, pausing. He had said he’d gotten out of the shower – and the water was still running. An imperceptible narrowing of her eyes as she moved closer. The dust, and now this? A thought crossed her mind, and she had to bite back a groan of disgust. What if the old di’kut had a thing for flashing? Maybe he enjoyed filming the encounters. Well, nothing for it at this point in time. If this whole endeavor was going to be filmed, then, well, she would have to bring her A game – which meant, additionally, worse case scenario, assuming that the resulting footage would be viewed by the local law enforcement.

“Though I must protest that this is highly unorthodox,” she added, making sure that Re’vi would be in the clear. Her hand on the door knob, she peered round the corner into the steam filled room. “Sir?”

What Saudaji found inside of the bathroom may have made her wish she saw the nude, liver-spotted man flesh of a pervert, instead.

Someone lay on the floor of the shower, face up. The shower was enclosed by glass that was fogged up and covered in droplets of water, which made it a little difficult to tell who it was. But thanks to Saudaji's sharp eyes, as well as her intimate familiarity with the person, she was able to figure out who it was within a matter of moments.

It was Raeth.

He was naked and appeared to be unconscious. The stream from the showerhead hit his feet, and water pooled around the back of his head, which was situated right above the drain. His fake beard was still on his face, the disguise of high enough quality to continue looking real even after it got soaked.

Before Saudaji could rush to him, something else caught her eye: attached to the wall directly above Raeth were multiple long, thick, gray strips arranged in the shape of a square. She could immediately tell that the strips were explosive charges, the kind that the military or law enforcement used to blast open a door or a hole in a wall. She also knew that this wall was on the same side as the window she had nearly touched minutes before, which meant that space was on the other side of about a foot of duralloy. Blinking lights near the center of each strip indicated that they were primed and ready to be set off, remotely.

If the charges were set off, the controlled explosion might not completely incinerated Raeth, but he'd get sucked out of the resulting hole and drift towards the stars, dead and naked.

The voice piped in through the speakers without the slow, sad music cutting off. It didn't sound like Art, this time. The voice sounded robotic, synthesized, disguised.

"Believe it or not, I do not want to kill him, nor do I want to kill you," the speaker said, his voice slow, each word carefully articulated. "I assure you, he has not suffered any permanent damage." From where she stood, Saudaji couldn't see any visible injuries on her lover's body.

"What I want is for you to listen to me, very carefully, because I don't like repeating myself.

"Now, please, step inside of the bathroom, and close the door behind you. At the risk of stating the obvious, if you do something I don't like, I'll set the charges off, and Mr. Fulmora here will get to know the void better than he ever wanted."

Fulmora - Raeth's last name. In all their time together, Raeth had said the name out loud maybe once or twice. Whoever was talking knew who he was dealing with.

Ice flowed through her veins.

She became acutely aware of a single droplet of sweat, spurred by the humidity of the shower, trail down the side of her cheek. She resisted the urge to wipe it, her fingers so stiff they nearly hurt. Her heart paused, and her breath stilled – until she finally took in one, deep, smooth breath.

Before their parting, Mahoroba had attempted to show her things she could do to help her in battle. Most of it was laughable for someone of her considerable skill. However, the one thing that had stuck kicked in now. Despite the dread, the agony of panic shrieking through her brain, her breathing was deep and even. If this mysterious captor was monitoring her vitals, they would appear as if she were deep in sleep, not seeing her lover vulnerable and in danger.

She slowly raised her hands above her head. The gesture, for someone of her proficiency with her hands, clearly meant nothing. If anything, she did it as a universal gesture of, “Okay, I’m listening.” At the tinny voice, she lowered one hand and closed the door, as smoothly as if the façade she had as Re’vi was still relevant.

With the door closed behind her, she made a surprising gesture. She folded her hands behind her, and leaned against the door, her hands pressed to it by her own weight. The urge to mouth off was strong – in fact, she had a smart comment on the tip of her tongue, but the mention of Raeth’s last name killed it before it truly had life.

It would be silly to ask who this person was – but she had to do something. Clearly, he knew who they were. “Then I may as well get comfortable,” and she reached up and took off her glasses, folding them neatly and placing them in the breast pocket of her suit. In her disguise, her deep brown eyes were a slate gray, intelligent and cold.

Slowly, with the practiced air of someone who knew very well of their sex appeal, she reached up and loosened the tie around her throat. Each gesture she made was to draw attention to the fact that she was quite unarmed (no matter), and, for the most part, unfazed by what was happening. It was an act she needed to hold solid, as her mind was running like tickertape to figure out some way out without harming Raeth. As the tie loosened, she leisurely swallowed. “You can’t imagine how uncomfortable it is to wear a tie so tight.” Re’vi’s pleasant tenor was gone, replaced by the smoke and honey of her heavily accented voice. Glinting from the nest of fabric of her tie was a tiny voice modulator. The tie wasn’t needed to hold it in place, but it was certainly helpful.

“Or maybe you can.” It was an off-handed comment, as she seemed to be focused more on loosening her clothing than focusing on what was actually happening. All hint of her true emotion were wiped from her voice. “Your door is closed, by the way.” She had adjusted her costume just so – it wouldn’t be hard to become Re’vi again, but it was enough to give her some small sense of security – some air of misleading.

She swallowed again. “What do I do to keep him safe?” The question was flat, and it was less of a question than a demand.

"You only have to listen and follow my instructions. After he wakes up, you are to tell him every word I said." The water shut off on its own. Before the flow stopped, completely, large drops fell onto the unconscious Raeth's forehead. "Do that, and you both will leave Sator in good health."

The volume of the music was lowered to ensure each of the speaker's words were heard, loud and clear.

"I know who you work for. In fact, I know them better than either of you do. Even Raeth doesn't have a full picture of how you two fit into their plans. And he has no clue what they've done to him."

The speaker paused, giving what he just said time to sink in. He was confident that this question - What did the Sith do Raeth? - would pique Saudaji's interest.

"I want to show you what they're capable of."

The shower's glass door opened, an unspoken invitation for her to step inside so she can see for herself that Raeth was unharmed. An invitation, as well as a reward for following the speaker's instructions thus far.

"After we're done here, you are to return to the Vandelay office. Go as Re'vi, or don't. Go together, or alone. It doesn't matter. Mrs. Winterbourne will have detailed instructions for you. Follow them, and I'll contact you again when the time is right.

"Don't look for me. I'll find you."

The speaker stopped speaking. The music cut off, too. If Saudaji attempted to ask questions, her only answer would be silence. The blinking lights on the explosives turned off, indicating they were no longer primed. Whether or not that made Saudaji feel any better was up to her.

When she stepped into the shower to examine Raeth, she'd find no signs of injury, anywhere. Was he drugged? If he was, there were no syringe marks. He may have been gassed. His breathing and pulse seemed normal for someone who was in a deep sleep, yet simple shaking wouldn't wake him up.

Saudaji would also discover that the bathroom door was locked. Like all the doors within any of the space station's apartments, it was heavy duty and mechanical. If there was a hull breach in any individual compartment, each door, each bulkhead was designed to keep the damage contained. There was no way she'd be able to break the door down, but she might be able to break open the control panel beside it, rewire it, and open it that way. She'd need some tools, though.

Additional searching would reveal Raeth's mechanic coveralls and his gear stashed inside of the cabinet underneath the sink. Everything he had on him when he was captured was there: tools, hidden gadgets, his weapons. With the tools she could begin working on the door's control panel.

Soon after she recovered his gear, Raeth began to stir. Naked and wet, he rolled his head a bit before his eyelids fluttered open. Saudaji's face was the first thing his blurry eyes locked onto. The sight of her made him smile.

"Hi, Beautiful," he said, groggily. An instant later, he remembered what happened, and realized how odd his situation was. The dreamy smile on his face got wiped away by a serious expression, and he struggled to get his thoughts working in the right direction.

"How much trouble are we in?" He whispered before sitting up and having a look around.

As he came to, she fought back the urge to pull him into a kiss so deep it’d run the chance of knocking him out again. Instead, all she did was grasp the sides of his face in her hands and pull him close to her, their foreheads touching. A deep, shuddering inhale from her, before a confident exhale.

“Rae’ika…” Her voice was soft, grateful.

Gradually releasing him, she licked her lips, and recounted everything the invisible voice had told her. In the process of speaking to him, she’d handed him his clothing, his gear. Now that the imminent crisis had passed, her adrenaline had left her with a calm anger in the pit of her stomach. Raeth had seen her many faces over the course of their relationship, but the face that she showed him now was one he’d never seen before.

It was of cold, calculating rage.

The corners of her mouth were firm, locked in place. Her eyes were icy and distant, fixed on a point past the wall. Sure, her curiosity was piqued, but her pride had been wounded. Someone had outsmarted her. And beyond that, whoever this person was, they’d captured Raeth. And she had been convinced that his radio silence was part of the plan; she had no idea that he’d been captured, let alone that their mission had been compromised. She was going to find this person, and when she did…she’d let her more eloquent body parts do the talking.

When she spoke again, after telling him of what the voice told her, her next statement was so mundane it was almost laughable.

“Looks like I’ll be Re’vi for a bit longer.” The hint of a sly chuckle, and she began to redo her tie. “I’ll leave the door to you; that technical stuff is still a bunch of osik to me.” Her tone was attempting to be light, but even a Miraluka could see through the act. With her tie around her throat again, her hands were shaking. She attempted to still them by balling them into fists, but soon enough, blood trickled down her palms.

With a guttural growl that raised to a deafening yell, she turned and punched the wall of the shower. Shattered glass fell in a hail around them. Knuckles spiderwebbed with thin cuts, her chest heaved up and down, as she stared at the destruction she just wrought. Then, as if coming back to her senses, she began to laugh. Lightly at first, before it came from her louder and desperate. Tears at the corners of her eyes, she sheepishly wiped at them. “And now I’ve got to come up with how Re’vi got his hand messed up.”

Raeth's heart rate began to rise when he realized that he was naked, cold, and didn't know where he was. But there was something in the way that Saudaji held his face and touched her forehead to him that told him the worst of whatever happened had passed. Eyes closed, he urged himself to calm down before he sought some answers.

"It's that bad, huh?" Before tipping his head back so he could look her in the eyes, he affectionately stroked the tip of her nose with the tip of his.

As Saudaji explained what happened and repeated what the speaker said, Raeth felt his stomach sink, lower and lower. They had been played from the moment they set foot on Sator Station. Hell, the clues that lead them here in the first place must have been planted, which meant that they had been played ever since their failed mission on Tzan.

He knew that whoever the saboteur was, he was good. But this good? Good enough to fool them both this thoroughly? Good enough to fool Raeth, at least twice?

Raeth had never felt defeat like this. After he got dressed, he turned to Saudaji, because looking at her usually made him feel happy. But instead of a reassuring smile, he saw murder in her eyes and rage that she struggled to maintain. He'd never seen her angry like this, not even when they had a screaming match that almost ended in bloodshed. He turned away from her, because it was uncomfortable seeing her in this state. And that memory wasn't one he wanted to revisit.

There was a scream of rage followed immediately by shattering glass, which made the agent nearly jump in surprise. Turning, he saw shards of glass spread across the floor, and Saudaji standing in front of the ruined remains of a shower wall. Worse than that, her hand was bloodied - the same hand that needed surgery because of blaster burns.

Raeth already felt queasy, not because of whatever it was the saboteur used to knock him out, but because of everything else that happened. Seeing Saudaji's blood caused his already troubled stomach to lurch all the more. The sound of her laughter didn't help, either. Normally, he loved hearing her laugh, but this time the sound was full of pain. Her pain became his pain.

Searching through his gear, which was still strewn about the bathroom floor, he found the small bundle of bacta bandages he always brought with him on missions. The bandages were snatched off the ground, unfurled, and applied to the Twi'lek's wounded knuckles.

"Hey, hey. We're okay," Raeth whispered. He certainly didn't feel okay, but he needed to lie, to do anything to stop Saudaji from hurting. Taking his eyes away from the bandaging for only a moment, he touched his forehead to hers once again, this time holding it there.

"We're okay. We'll get out of here, collect these instructions, find out what this guy wants, and take it from there. All right?" Trying to smile, convincingly, he placed a soft kiss to her forehead, then another to her cheek. He also wanted to tell her that they would figure out how to kill this son of a nerf, but not before they systematically tortured him. Those words were left unspoken, however, because it occurred to him that the saboteur was probably still watching them.

The rest of Raeth's scattered gear was collected after Saudaji's hand was bandaged. The agent suspected that at least some of the items were tampered with - after all, that's what he would've done. But he'd hold onto them until they got off the station, at which point he'd destroy it all. At the very least, he needed his tools to get them out of the bathroom.

As he pried the door's control panel off to get to the wires underneath, a voice in his head asked him why the saboteur kept the door locked. The guy already had them by the balls, telling them where to go next to pick up instructions that would tell them what to do next. And since he apparently knew a lot about them already, surely he knew that Raeth could get passed the door, easily. All this did was slow them down by a few minutes.

The best guess that Raeth had was that the saboteur was still farking with them. He was probably watching them, right now, laughing. Whoever the guy was, he was a real asshole in victory.

Barely able to keep his hands from shaking in frustration, Raeth finished rewiring the door, which groaned open for them. The two of them left the apartment in silence, each shaken in their own way.

*****

"According to him, it didn't matter if you went alone or if we went together, yeah?"

Raeth and Saudaji were in the corridors of Sator Station, making a beeline for the Vandelay office. The agent was doing his best to look relaxed, but in reality he was more tense than he had felt in a long while. He couldn't shake the feeling that there were eyes following their every move. It made him feel itchy, irritated, anxious.

That anxiousness was exacerbated by the fact that Darth Azamin would eventually need a report about what transpired. Obviously, telling the boss that they got their asses kicked again - even worse than last time, in fact - wasn't an option, so he'd need to do some creative lying. At the moment, Raeth felt too exhausted to think that creatively.

"I'm going with you," he stated, his tone indicating that there was no room for argument. "I wager everyone in that office is in on it, so there's no point in maintaining our cover. Let's go in, together, find out what hoops we're supposed to jump through, then get out of here.

"The sooner we're off this hell pit, the better."

They marched into the Vandelay offices, together. Despite the late hour, the lights were still on inside, and the automated doors still swung open as they approached.

The first thing they saw was Mrs. Winterbourne behind the receptionist's desk. She smiled at the two of them, pleasantly, knowingly. The second thing they saw was the Rodian dock supervisor that Saudaji recognized from the meeting on Dock 13.

The Rodian was in the middle of a lively conversation with Art. The two of them were headed towards Art's office when Saudaji and Raeth entered, but they paused to look towards the opening doors. When he saw who it was, Art grinned at them and waved.

Normally, Saudaji was perceptive enough to recognize that the Arturo Vandelay standing a few meters away from her was not the same one she had spied on over the past week. There were little differences that only someone as observant as her would have noticed. Like the fact that this one was a couple of inches taller. Or how his fingers were somewhat stubby, rather than long and slender.

But would she notice these details in her current state?

Like a repentant child, she held out her hand for him to bandage. As he worked, he could see faint scars across her fingers, a testament to her prior injury and to numerous ones before. She lightly flexed her fingers in his grasp. Her mobility was fine; her hand had made a full recovery prior (due to her diligent exercises of it), and the cuts weren’t deep.

Her forehead close to his, she was still. She took in a shuddering breath, then spoke.

“....No, it’s not okay,” she said, flatly. Her anger was clearly not directed at him, buffeted with a coolness that was uncharacteristic of her. “I couldn’t protect you.” The last was a strangled sob from her, full of her anger, her sorrow, her fear. “…I couldn’t protect you!” Her voice was harsher now, sharp with her sorrow. Her arms snaked around him, and she pulled him close. Held him so firmly that it felt like she would break him. Her face was smashed against the crown of his head. She squeezed tighter, then, loosened her grip, her breathing rapid. She was trying to steel herself; get her thoughts back together. She would need her wits about her – the job wasn’t over yet.

____

Re’vi was as cool as ever, even with his hand bandaged.

They had to be under watch; the whole building had to have been in on it. But how? Why? Who would they be affiliated with to participate in such a grand façade? What was it worth to them? Her fingers itched – if she just had a few minutes alone with one of them, any of them, she could find out –

Noticing how Arturo – presumably the real Arturo- waved at them, he had to have been in on it as well. The man was well off financially – so money couldn’t have been a motivator. Curious.

Once she felt that they were out of earshot, though, at this point, it wouldn’t have mattered much, she spoke.

“….It isn’t money. Not at the bottom of this.”

"You might be right." Raeth watched this other Art - who he suspected was nothing more than a lackey - lead the Rodian into his office. He and Saudaji were left alone with Mrs. Winterbourne.

"Let's get this over with."

The white-haired receptionist smiled a little wider at them when they stepped up to her desk. "Hello, Re'vi. Working late again, I see. Who's your friend?"

What was left of Raeth's patience had been left in the bathroom rigged with explosives. "I'm the guy who's about 3 seconds away from kicking you in your old, dried-up fanny. Stop playing games and give us whatever it is you're supposed to." Despite being aggressively crude, Raeth gave her an exaggerated, almost crazy-looking smile.

Mrs. Winterbourne looked genuinely appalled. "I never...!"

"Never what?" Raeth interjected. "Never danced with the devil on the surface of a moon? Yeah, well, that makes two of us. C'mon, where's the stuff?"

At a loss for words, the receptionist reached into a drawer, then withdrew a memory stick small enough to fit inside a palm. That was it. Presumably, the next instructions from their mysterious tormentor was contained within.

"Thank you, Mrs. Winterboure," Raeth said politely as he snatched up the memory stick. "Now go fark yourself."

Unless Saudaji had something else she wanted to do at her former employer, they would leave.

*****

The Patient Pylat orbited a random moon less than an hour later. There were some important things that Raeth needed to do before they continued the saboteur's wild gort chase.

The two of them were in the medbay. Raeth, naked, lay on an examination bed while the resident medical droid - Ms. Wellspring - conducted a bioscan. It wouldn't have surprised him if the saboteur had done something to him while he was unconscious. Attached a small bomb to his heart. Implanted a tracking device to his lower intestine. Injected nanobots into his bloodstream. There were any number of nasty things that could've happened to him while he was out.

"That's what I would've done," was how he explained this paranoia to Saudaji. He probably didn't have to, since paranoia kept her alive just like it did for him.

A series of thorough scans didn't reveal anything nasty inside of him, microscopic or otherwise. More good news: all of his insides were where they were supposed to be. As for what knocked him out, there were signs that he had been the victim of multiple stun blasts.

"Hey, at least it took more than one shot to take me down," he chuckled, the sound not sounding convincing. Although he was physically fine, he felt as shaken now as he did on Sator Station. That's one of the reasons he was glad Saudaji was there to keep him company.

Outside of the medbay, they could occasionally hear the metallic clunk of heavy footsteps. In addition to being paranoid about what might have been done to his body, Raeth was paranoid about what might have been done to his ship. So he had the security droids One through Five roam the ship with handheld scanners. At the same time, he had the Pylat's computer running a full diagnostic. Sebastian was in the cockpit, ready to pause the diagnostic and take control of the ship if there was any sign of trouble.

He even had a couple of astromech droids - which he rarely used for anything - rolling around the outside of the ship's hull to conduct an exterior scan. This multi-level inspection, like his bioscans, revealed nothing amiss.

"Fark that guy," Raeth cursed as he got dressed. He should've felt relieved that nothing was found, but his anxiety didn't diminish at all. "Let's go over the information again," he said to Saudaji.

The memory stick, like everything else on the ship, was carefully scanned. Once he was sure that it wasn't anything more, he plugged it into a datapad that was not connected to the Pylat's network. After all, the saboteur somehow hacked the RV (RIP) and shut it down, which nearly got them killed. Raeth sure as hell wasn't going to let him do the same to thePylat.

Saudaji had the datapad in her deadly, green hands, and the data they received was there on the screen. It contained the following:

The name of a planet: Ch'hodos, which was located deep within Sith territory.

The name of a settlement on Ch'hodos - Breeka Dar Mun - and some info about a woman they evidently were supposed to meet there - Deegi, a speeder mechanic.

Coordinates to a location a couple hundred kilometers away from Breeka Dar Mun.

Blueprints of what appeared to be a scientific facility, along with details of facility's droid-heavy security.

There were no explicit instructions to go along with that information, but it was easy to guess what the saboteur wanted them to do. As to what they would find in this facility was anybody's guess.

There was something else saved on the memory stick, something that elicited shock from Raeth, a man who was rarely shocked. There was information that implicated a person named Lee van Haren as the one behind their earlier mission's sabotage.

After he recovered from his surprise, Raeth explained what this meant. "Van Haren works for the Ministry of Intelligence, just like me. Like you and me, come to think of it. She's got close ties to Darth Mogami, who's had her eyes on Azamin's position for a while now, and who has been doing a fairly poor job of hiding it."

Raeth stared at nothing in particular as his mind rapidly worked through all the different things that this meant. He spoke quicker than normal, as though his mouth was struggling to keep up with his hyper-fast thoughts.

"Who is this guy? How does this guy know all these details about the Sith? These are things that most within the Empire don't know about. Van Laren's involvement is all bantha poodoo, of course, but only we know that. To anyone else, this would look quite convincing.

"If I share this information with Azamin, he'd go after Mogami and her cronies, thinking this is part of a plot to make him look foolish and weak. It wouldn't be outright war, but one way or another it'll probably end in bloodshed. If we're lucky, maybe Caethia will get killed in the middle of all of this..." That last bit was whispered.

"Why would this guy send us this info? Why would he think we'd use it?" Going silent for a moment, he thought through the possibilities. It dawned on him a few seconds later. "He's buying us time! By sending this to Azamin, we'll be giving him something else to focus on for quite a long time. I can make up more poodoo about chasing other leads, maybe needing time off for health reasons, he'd likely wave us off, and we'd be free to..."

Raeth frowned. "Free to continue doing these mystery tasks for Mr. Mystery." He slumped back down onto the examination chair, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palm. He was starting to get a stress headache, which was something else that almost never happened to him.

"Who is this guy?" He repeated, quietly.

“ ‘Might be’?” It was a light scoff from her; her first fumbling attempt at humor since he’d woken up. If he cared to look over at her, her mouth, as Re’vi’s, was crumpled in, holding back laughter. As if they were exchanging an inside joke, instead of discussing an unseen foe that very well could have killed them

Before she could respond to Mrs. Winterbourne (a professional to the last), Raeth spoke. Saudaji kept her face as impassive as possible, though a sparkle of humor could be seen in those slate eyes. As they turned to leave, Re’vi offered the receptionist one last small wave, as cheerily as nothing just happened. She could have made a threat to Winterbourne’s family, some snide comment wishing her grandchildren good health, but that was beneath her. Instead, she would just let the knowledge sit between them, heavy as a stone.

____

Back on the ship, her composure was gone.

Saudaji wasn’t a woman prone to fidgeting; nervous behavior. However, in the Med Bay, she couldn’t stop pacing. If she sat down, she drummed her fingers constantly on the edge of her chair. If she picked up something, she’d fiddle with it over and over. She was still attentive as he spoke, but it was clear that she needed to burn off whatever was bothering her. The fidgeting didn’t stop even as they were going over information; she was turning the data pad back and forth in her palms as he spoke.

“So share the information,” she spoke, in a voice that was steadier than her hands, “And let’s find out what this shabuir wants.” Direct and chill, she was. The rest? Nothing but minor details. “He wouldn’t have gone through this much trouble if he wanted either one of us dead.” She resisted the urge to throw the data pad, fed up with waiting, and instead, paced over to Raeth’s chair. Standing behind it, she squeezed the top of it so hard that her knuckles paled. “…Who is he? Probably someone that did the same job as we do. Or did.”

It was offered in an off the cuff tone; not condescending. “Sometimes the true answer is the simplest one.” She took in another deep breath, loosened her grip on the back of his chair. “Tell you what,” and there was a lightness in her tone, something she was trying hard to force. “I said that money wasn’t behind this. If he’s an idealist zealot, and I was right – which, by the way, I will be,” she tapped the tip of his nose affectionately, “then you me a credit.”

She moved to stand beside his chair now, offering him her hand. “Is it a deal? You know what will happen if you welch on a deal with a Mandalorian…” Her smile took on a predatory edge. “I’ll end up taking a pound of flesh from you.” Though the words were sinister, the lascivious set of her mouth was not.

"An idealist? Bleugh." The agent's mood was darkening a moment ago, but Saudaji began to lift his spirits with a single boop to his nose. He cracked a smile, all of a sudden. "Wouldn't that be a kick to the nards? Being humiliated by a some reformed Imperial on a quest for redemption. What would that make us: the antagonists in this guy's adventure story? No thanks. I'm nobody's supporting character."

Saudaji's "threat" made him chuckle. It made his smile brighten, too. "We both know I wouldn't be able to stop you if you wanted to take more than a pound." Now that a hint of his usual humor had returned, Raeth accepted his beloved's hand, and gave it a shake

"Very well. You have a deal. In fact, I'll do you one better: if Mr. (or Mrs.) Mystery turns out to be a bleeding heart obsessed with making the galaxy a better place, then I'll owe you a mug of ne'tra gal. If he's doing all this because of greed or some other selfish reason, then you owe me a shot of hull stripper."

The huntress' hand wasn't released when their deal was struck. Instead, Raeth yanked on it to get her into his lap. Familiar hands landed, happily, on each of her hips. He had trouble deciding if he wanted to get lost in her eyes, or stare at that predatory smile of hers.

Swallowing, Raeth reached up to cup her cheek. The pad of his thumb tenderly stroked her bottom lip. "I dream about your smile, you know," he whispered, touching his nose to hers. Moments later, his lips were on hers. Moments after that, his tongue dove into her mouth to seek out its mate.

In each other's arms, they forgot about their troubles, at least for a little while.

*****

Eventually, Raeth's interior and exterior scans were completed. Not yet satisfied, he had the computer and the droids run them again, just to be especially careful. Nothing was found. Convinced that he'll have to upgrade his security protocols, anyway, he ordered all the droids back to their recharge stations, then set the Patient Pylat on a winding course that gradually got them closer to Sith space.

An encrypted report - which included their carefully falsified account of what happened on Sator Station, as well as Mr. Mystery's doctored findings - was sent to Imperial Intelligence. At the end of the report, the agent added a request for a month of medical leave, citing burns and shrapnel wounds he had suffered during a firefight with the saboteur's compatriots as the reason. How Darth Azamin would respond was uncertain. Whether or not he would respond within 24 hours was also uncertain. All they knew for sure was that had a little time for R&R while they soared through hyperspace.

It had been nearly a week since they had been intimate - the longest they had gone without sex since things became sweet between them. Naturally, they went to bed for some fun as soon as they could.

Although the past week without her had been torturous, Raeth resisted the urge to rush. He took his time savoring their reunion. Using his fingers, tongue, and lips, he adored every inch of his lover's jade flesh. Front and back, not a single spot left un-pampered. Inevitably, his face got placed between her thighs, and his mouth nuzzled at her cunt. She learned a long time ago how much he loved kissing her like this.

"You taste sweeter than ever, Cyare," he whispered, his breath brushing through her pubic hair and tickling her lower lips. Her honey coated his face, messily, yet he couldn't help but dive in for more.

When they made love for the first time in what felt like eons, he kept the pace measured, slow for as long as he could, stared into her eyes for as long as he could, before the rush of release suffused them both. Days worth of pent-up cum got poured into her. The release left Raeth as a shaky blob.

After his outcries stopped echoing off the metal walls, but before his heart stopped slamming against his ribs, he plopped beside her on the bed. Their sweaty bodies could cool off while they snuggled.

There was something different about Raeth's behavior, Saudaji noticed. He was normally at his most relaxed after sex. Hell, the best sleep he ever had were on the nights that she fucked him with especially aggressive passion. This time, however, Raeth didn't relax, not completely. If she turned towards him, she'd see him staring at the ceiling. With the knuckles of one hand, he absently caressed the skin of her side or her arm. Meanwhile, the fingers of his other hand drummed on his tight chest.

It was easy for her to guess what he was thinking about.

He would not be alone in being unsettled after their love making.

His gaze was on the ceiling; hers, on a spot beyond the door. She kept contact with him, curled up against his side like a puppy, but the longer she stared at that point beyond the door, the more she felt that itching in her blood. It was a deep curl, deeper than the fear, deeper than the anger, and only with her mind somewhat quieted by their intimacy, could she see it for what it was.

The excitement of a challenge.

There was a certain ease when it came to missions with the two of them – Raeth’s genius lead itself to virtual cakewalk assassinations. Something, granted, that no one in their right mind would complain about (and neither was she), but this, this was something that was unexpected. Beyond a challenge, it was also the opportunity for her to redeem herself.

When the quiet between them finally got to be too much, she sprang, quite suddenly. Swinging one muscular leg across his waist, she straddled him in a fluid moment. Funny; it would only take a bit more force, a little more direction, to have turned the movement from a playful one into a lethal one. Looking down into his face, she grabbed his wrists, and lightly pinned them above his head.

“Got you.” Leaning down, she kissed him tenderly. “I can’t sit here like this. Doing nothing,” she released his wrists, letting her fingers trail down his arms. “I’m going to go train. I may not have the brains,” she tapped at her temple, “But I do have this,” and she flexed. Her bicep bulged, intimidating in its power. “I’m going to protect you, no matter what.” She was sliding from atop him now, not bothering to get dressed.

Blood began to rush back into his member when she straddled him. Raeth got fully erect moments later, when Saudaji held his wrists over his head and planted her mouth on his. She could taste his lips, his tongue at the same time that she felt his erection grow between her thighs and against her belly, too.

Suddenly, her lips were gone. His tongue poked out of his mouth to chase after the stolen sweetness, but she was too fast. Eyes snapping open, he grabbed at her wrist or her leg to stop her escape, but she smoothly evaded. Not only was his lover shockingly strong, but she was impressively eel-like, too. A perfect combination of power and grace.

Thwarted, painfully erect, yet still smiling, Raeth watched her leave the room. His heart raced as he watched her lekku sway behind her. His cock swelled, more, at the sight of her sashaying ass. Watching her bare ass go was such a treat. Sure, he loved seeing it up close, more, and loved having his face buried in it more than that. But watching her leave was nice, nonetheless.

"I want you to remember that I never mistreat you like this!" He called out after she disappeared down the hall.

Jumping out of bed, he began to chase after her. Yet something told him to stop when he was halfway out the door. No, what she was saying between the lines was right: they already had their fun, so now they had to prepare for what's next. Mr. Mystery kicked their asses twice, which meant they had to become better to avoid that from happening again.

With his lips scrunched up, thoughtfully, Raeth turned from the exit, then padded to the bathroom. A cool shower would help ease the uncomfortable throb below his waistline.

The next time Saudaji saw him, Raeth was freshly showered and wearing a pair of gray boxer-briefs. Unlike her, he typically did not walk around the Pylat buck-ass naked, mainly because he didn't enjoy the feeling of his dick flopping against his thighs. He also didn't enjoy the sensation of the cold, metal floor against bare soles, hence the light, slip-on shoes around his feet. As usual, Raeth looked pale, lean, and fit, although he did have a bit more muscle mass - particularly at his arms, legs, and shoulders - than when she first saw him naked. Although he regularly complained whenever she beat him during their training sessions, the results were nice and noticeable. He was in the best shape of his life thanks to her.

Without saying a word, Raeth approached her while she was in the middle of an exercise. When he was close enough, he placed a loving kiss to the back of her shoulder. The side of one of her lekku brushed upon one of his smooth cheeks. Grinning at her, he stepped away so she could continue her workout and he could begin his.

After some light stretching, he tapped a button on a wall, which caused retractable, horizontal bars to appear above his head. Hopping up, he grabbed one of the bars, then began to do some arm strength exercises.

"I've been thinking that Mr. Mystery may not be only one man," Raeth said over his shoulder following a pull-up. He switched to a grip strength exercise, next. Maybe if he had stronger fingers, Saudaji wouldn't have been able to escape their bed so easily. "We might be dealing with an entire organization. It's crazy to think that one person could be this prepared. But an organization? That makes more sense."

Knees bent, fingers beginning to strain around a metal bar, he hung there for several minutes. A little bit of sweat already began to form at his forehead, as well as his armpits. "Mmph. I don't think the Republic is behind this. It might be some hidden cabal of Sith, or maybe rogue Jedi. Maybe a group of players I haven't heard of before."

Raeth cursed under his breath when he suddenly slipped off the bar. He landed on his feet, but only barely. Shaking and flexing his sore fingers, he turned around to see if Saudaji saw him nearly fall on his rump. Hopefully she didn't.

Her response was a mild chuckle.

_____

Though she enjoyed being naked, she had enough sense to get dressed before she trained. Similar to him, she favored close fitting clothing to move around in. When he saw her in the training room, she was dressed in a second skin “jumper” - a high collared, black affair that ended at her knees and was long-sleeved. She was barefoot.

She seemed to have been running through some sort of exercise - one step placed slowly in front of the other. There were no violent kicks or punches; if anything, her breathing was steady, her hands graceful and slow. Her eyes were closed, and she walked through the movements with the ease of someone who had done this many, many, times before. She finished a stance, then gave him a small smile in acknowledgement. As he made his way to the bars, she picked up her movements again, fighting a slow, invisible opponent. Her breathing remained the same, measured and careful.

Her eyes closed, she spoke as he finished his thought. “I don’t think so. I think it’s one person.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, as if he was standing right next to her. “One person with a lot of resources.”

She took in a deep breath. Brought her elbow down in a particularly nasty looking strike. “One person can spin it whatever way he wants to get the resources he wants.” Another inhale. “I don’t know what this person wants. Other than you.”

Dropping now, she executed a flawless back bend, falling back onto the upper part of her back. Held it for a moment, then rocked back, springing to her feet. She landed into a deep crouch, performing a rapid one two punch combo. “The Sith, this person already knows about. What you do, he knows. What he has to gain at this point, we don’t know.”

Lightly rocking forward, she did a swaying dance on the balls of her feet, the definition of nimble. Luckily for him, she didn’t see his little mistake, but she heard it. Her only reaction was a slight smirk, carefully tucked away before it could be considered mocking. It wasn’t - it was as doting as a mother watching her child take his first steps.

“If it is an organization, though - what do you think they want?”

Because he was done with grip strength exercises, Raeth pressed a button to make the overheard bars disappear within the wall. Different buttons were tapped to make part of the floor slide away and a treadmill to emerge from the resulting hole. The treadmill was set to a slightly faster-than-moderate pace, then he began to jog. Normally, he disliked jogging, but since Saudaji was here to converse with him, it wouldn't be so bad.

He went quiet for a bit after Saudaji mentioned that she was sure Mr. Mystery wanted him. This was something that had bothered him since she recited what was said over the intercom:

He has no clue what they've done to him.

I want to show you what they're capable of.

Throughout his employment, Raeth had seen all sorts of atrocities committed by the Empire. More than a few of them were carried out by yours truly. A few days ago, he felt confident that he knew all the important things to know about the Sith, including the worst things they were capable of. But now, he wasn't so sure. Jogging in silence, the agent mulled over those cryptic words. The darkest parts of his imagination ran through an exercise of their own: to come up with nasty possibilities that were somehow related to him.

For a few minutes, the loudest sounds in the training room were those of the treadmill, as well as the rhythmic thumping of his feet upon it. Saudaji broke the silence with a question.

"At the risk of stating the obvious, they / he / she / it want to hurt the Empire. It's also likely that they want to get you and me on their team." A drop of sweat dangled from an eyebrow, so he swiped his forearm across both his brows and his forehead. "I get the distinct impression that this is an elaborate - not to mention painful - recruitment drive, and what you and I are now doing is an audition.

"I don't know about you, but I'm flattered," he aimed a smirk at the back of her head. While looking at her, he admired how her lekku swayed during her exercises. They reminded him of the branches of a willow tree swaying in a light breeze. Although he normally disliked the outdoors, he liked watching willows ever since he was a child.

A repeating series of beeps snapped Raeth out of his daydream. They both knew what that meant: an encrypted message had just been received. He hopped off the treadmill and jogged to a small computer panel beside the door to bring up the decoded text.

Before the huntress could ask what it said, he told her.

"'Medical leave approved. Check-in in 4 weeks for further instructions.'" The agent turned towards her and shrugged. "That's it. They bought it. Considering how brief their response is, I'm inclined to think that the shat is about to hit the fan over there."

As much as he hated to admit it, a part of him was impressed that Mr. Mystery may have actually sown some chaos within the Empire with just a single message sent to the right person. He locked this lesson within the vault of his mind, with the intent to practice it one of these days.