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

'Tis all yours, good sir.

Raeth Fulmora knew he wasn’t dressed appropriately for his meeting with Darth Azamin. Although the idea of speaking with the dark councilor while dressed in a colorful, almost garish tunic and floppy hat amused Raeth to no end, he knew such a display would be perceived as disrespectful. He knew to never disrespect a Sith Lord.

Raeth’s sense of self-preservation overrode his sense of humor. So he changed out of his work clothes and put on something that wouldn’t offend his employer: a simple, blood red shirt, which he tucked into a pair of black bantha leather pants, and simple, dark shoes. He tucked his floppy hat into his pocket; he would wear that later.

The now unassuming young man entered the chamber where the meeting would take place. It was lit, dimly, by a handful of torches affixed to the room’s stone pillars. There was no furniture, so Raeth knelt on the cold floor and waited for the dark councilor to arrive.

“You task was completed successfully, yes?” Darth Azamin asked moments before he emerged from the darkness. His apprentice, Caethia Yavariik, was at his side as usual. Both wore voluminous black robes favored by many Sith, and each of their faces were covered by masks.

Raeth remained in his kneeling position, his eyes cast downward. “Yes, my lord. “ He answered, even though he had a hunch Azamin already knew the outcome of his mission. The Sith have many eyes, after all.

“You sustained casualties?” The Sith Lord’s voice sounded nearly robotic as it issued forth from his metal mask.

“Yes, my lord. Duari died to protect me and to ensure the success of the mission.” Duari was a fellow Agent of the Sith Empire who had accompanied Raeth on over a dozen successful missions that spanned multiple sectors and several months. The two were partners and as close to being friends as members of the Empire could be. And yet when he spoke of his recently-fallen comrade, there was not a hint of emotion amongst his words. Duari was not the first ally Raeth lost, and he knew he wouldn’t be the last.

“Hm,” was Darth Azamin’s initial reaction. “Yet what is important is that your target was eliminated.” The Sith Lord began to walk slow circles around the agent, while his apprentice stood in place like a statue. “You continue to succeed where others fail, Agent. It truly is a shame that you have no talent in the Force. You would have made a worthy apprentice.”

Raeth’s expression did not change, but he was shocked at the compliment. Sith Lords weren’t well known for sharing fuzzy feelings. At the same time, he knew how dangerous that compliment was, for he could imagine – almost feel – the hatred seething from the masked and motionless Caethia.

“Thank you, my lord,” the agent said, careful to be polite without sounding delighted.

Azamin withdrew a holodisk from the depths of his robes, and dropped it onto the floor, directly in front of Raeth. “The details of your next task are contained within.” The Sith headed towards the exit, but before he left he added, “A replacement for Duari will be assigned to you shortly. You will be told where and when to meet your new partner.”

The Sith disappeared into the darkness. His apprentice lingered a few moments longer to glare at the agent from behind her mask. Then she, too, made her exit.

When the two of them were gone, Raeth picked up the holodisk and got to his feet. As usual, there was little time to rest; once one task was completed, it was time to prepare for the next. But this was the life he was born into: a life devoted to the Sith Empire and dedicated to the downfall of the Galactic Republic.

As Raeth left the building and made his way back to his ship, the Patient Pylat, he imagined who his new partner would be. As much as he liked Duari, he hoped the replacement was a better conversationalist.

*****

A few days after meeting with Darth Azamin, a digital message was sent to the Patient Pylat’s onboard computer. It contained a date, a time, and a place. Raeth read only the location out loud.

“Paradise on Zeltros...”

He smiled to himself. The planet Zeltros was a popular vacation destination for the wealthy. It certainly beat the jungle worlds and the swamp planets he was often sent to for missions.

In high spirits, the Imperial Agent set a course for Zeltros, where he would meet his new partner.

Most people would not pay any mind to yet another mercenary wandering the streets of Zeltros. After all, they were entitled to their pleasures as much as the next person.

This particular mercenary had no outstanding features - no flashy clothing, no visible weapons. Even the helmet that he wore (while out of place, nothing too drastic) seemed understated and unassuming. The helmet had a horizontal slit for his eyes, and was a deep red, seemingly melting into the mantle he wore about his shoulders. Under the mantel, he wore loose black pants, black knee boots, and a loose tan tunic, belted carelessly at the waist with a off-gold belt of some braided fur or pelt. Maybe a little outlandish, sure, but threatening? Hardly. It looked as if he would be more inclined to trip over the mantle if forced to greater speeds than use it as a distraction.

Under the helmet, though, Saudaji wasn't happy. "He" was only at home when he was dressed in his armor. However, Mandalorians were rare in these parts, and even something as simple as his normal helmet would have been cause for alarm. There was no mistaking that T shaped visor for anything else, and he needed to keep his cover.

He was no stranger to Zeltros, though. Surreally enough, he though with a slight smirk, the place was more home than he would like to admit. It definitely offered some of his favorite things. He, of course, would have never told that to Darth Azamin. One could never trust aruetii, and Jedi, no matter how they leaned in the Force, were still aruetii. He'd learned that quite well from a very early age. And, ironically (almost comedic, if one dwelled on it longer), he got the distinct impression that Darth Azamin felt the same way about him. Saudaji didn't doubt that whatever powers that the Jedi had made keeping secrets nigh if not impossible - and that his reason for taking this job meant more than the money being offered.

Not that he would turn away money, mind you. One had to keep SOME principles.

________

The call had come in the middle of a night cycle for him. Not like he was one to keep regular hours. He was enjoying his down-time, and contemplating where his next stop would be. He had a pretty good idea, though. It had been a while since he was able to indulge, and visit some of the few family that he had. He was anticipating the call, and so he had made a habit of making himself available at all hours. When this particular call came, he was in the middle of training. He spent so much time aboard his ship that he had devoted an entire room to it. It was his pride and joy, and every time he stepped in, he felt a swell of pride in his chest knowing that not a single credit was wasted. Without bothering to change from his baggy training clothes, he dashed from the training room and into the cock pit. He had deliberately left the door to the training room open so he could hear the call - he did not bother setting up communication devices within the training room. That was his haven.

"Jorhaa'ir." (speak) His voice was flat under the heavily modified helmet, but still carried an accent. Most would consider it madness to address a Sith Lord in such a manner. But to just assume respect from a Mandalorian was just as mad. Saudaji wasn't sure if it was a smudge on his eye visor or if the Sith Lord actually showed...amusement. His constant shadow, Caethia, shifted ever so slightly in her position. One didn't have to be a Jedi to feel the irritation, even over the holoprojection.

"I have a job for you."

Saudaji weighed the options for his next comment. Maybe he was still light headed from the rigorous run he'd just gone through. Maybe he was tired. But the remark tickled and burned his tongue until he let it out.

"That's why most contact me, yes." Ah, yes. He could feel the burn from Caethia over the projection. If he wasn't so sure that his odds of winning a fight with the apprentice were slim, he'd laugh out loud. For the moment, he allowed himself a small chuckle under the helmet, making sure that it wasn't audible. Darth Azamin, however, remained nonplussed.

"You will meet your new partner on Zeltros, at the Paradise Cantina. I thought it would be more expeditious for you, as you were already on the way to the planet, were you not?" It wasn't said as a question, but a statement. Saudaji could only nod. He had his reasons for going, and he didn't feel the need to explain it to the Sith Lord. He figured as long as it didn't interfere with him professionally, the Sith could make no complaint. "From there, I will provide further instructions for the next target. It is fortuitous that you happened to be going to Zeltros. I could not have picked a more unassuming place for a traveler and a mercenary to have struck a bargain. Zeltros is long known for being a hot bed of debauchery."

Saudaji could only nod. In the pit of his stomach, he felt the familiar tickle of excitement, the same rush he got before any job. "As you wish."

The hologram winked out of existence.
_________

He didn't care for the Paradise Cantina. Too busy from the onset, and usually smelled like desperation. Not that he faulted the Zeltrons by any means. It was usually the beings that came to the Zeltrons that he had a problem with. But, though he did not know the owner, he knew a fair share of those working there - and one of them would be his main reason for coming to the planet in the first place.

As he approached the entrance, he took a deep breath and strode in. Unlike many places, the Paradise Cantina didn't need bouncers - the environment was so welcome and friendly, the Zentrons so eager to please, that even those that wanted to start trouble usually felt shamed before acting, or at least waited to take their grievances elsewhere. Saudaji fought the extreme urge to remove his helmet and breathe in the air heavily scented with flowers, sex, and greenery, but he refrained. He didn't need to expose himself here.

"...Daj'ika?" The voice was low, sultry. "DAJ'IKA!" The sultry manner was gone, replaced by a purr of excitement. A Zeltran woman ran up to the mercenary, throwing her power pink arms about his neck. For a moment, the two held each other, completely ignoring their surroundings. As the Zeltran untangled herself from him, happy tears welled in her amber eyes before she quickly swept them away. "Su'cuy gar!" (Hello, or literally, "You're still alive!") she exclaimed, the sultry confidence back in her voice now. She stepped back to take in the full image of the mercenary in front of her. She was a moderately tall woman, about 5'8. Her skin was a light pink, and her hair was navy blue, cut boyishly short. The shortness of it brought attention to her face, which, as supposing a Zeltron, was stunning. She wore a figure hugging one piece swim suit, a zipper running from her throat to below her navel. In typical Zeltran fashion, it was zipped as low as it could go and held in place with a wish and a prayer. The suit was garishly red, purple, and gold, accented by gold chains. She helped draw further attention to herself with gold anklets and bracelets, lining her arms. Astonishingly high heels completed the ensemble.

"Su'cuy gar, Bot'ika," the mercenary would manage to say. Emotion shook his voice, even through the voice filters. "It has been a while since I've been here. It's...improved," and his voice held a hint of amusement. "So have you, 'Boten."

Now known as 'Boten, she wrinkled her nose at him. "Call me Bot'ika. Everyone here either calls me "Saboten" or "Honey" or "Baby" or "Marry me. It's been too long that I've been called by a name I love by someone I love."

"Saboten's your name, of course they would call you that, " he said with a slight huff. For the both of them, the diminutive attachment to their names that was used was a secret code, a memory of good times past and a promise of new ones. But above all, it meant family. They weren't to be used lightly. At the thought of an aruetii using the diminutive, he bristled a little. He'd slug anyone in the face if they dared call him "Daj'ika."

"Don't be a smart ass," she playfully hissed at him. "And yes, the place has improved. In no small part due to my being here, but I don't want to brag," she added. "Here," she said, taking his hand, "Come back to one of the private pools with me. You can get out of all of that," she emphasized by waving her free hand at his attire. "Relax. Eat. Have a drink. Smoke a hookah. You do still do that, right?" She raised a navy blue eyebrow at him. Saudaji laughed, the sound jagged from the helmet.

"Gladly," he said, "But - I can't stay long. I'm supposed to be meeting my partner for this mission at 1900," Saudaji said, lacing his fingers in with hers.

"Daj'ika, it's only 1420. You'll be fine." She tugged him in the direction of a pool.
___________________

Saboten poured scented oils into a bubbling tub. This was one of the "private areas", cordoned off by a natural outcropping of rocks and greenery. Vibrant flowers, each a burst of color and fragrance, dotted the cliff's surface. In a pile next to the tub lay Saudaji's discarded clothing.

"You're not being modest, are you, Daj'ika?" called Saboten. The water turned a slight violet from the oils added, and she leaned over, inhaling deeply. Beside the pool was a tray laden with assorted foods, decanters, and an ornate clear glass hookah, trimmed in gold. Saboten had shed her suit in the middle of the preparation (but not her jewelry), enjoying the steam on her body. She was thrilled. Although she was prone to dramatic emotional displays, there was something about Saudaji that tempered her emotions - stopped them from spilling over in childish glee. Probably had something to do with how Saudaji appeared to her right now - calm, cool, collected. Every bit the warrior, but not quite the person she knew.

"Hardly." The voice that called back was no longer filtered through a helmet, and was sonorous above the churning waters. "Just making sure I have a chrono near me. The last thing I need to do here is lose track of time. It would be just my luck," and the voice came from around the bend. Saudaji luxuriated in a long stretch, feeling muscles give way. Saboten let out a noise similar to a squeal and clapped her hands, before letting out a wolf call. Grinning, Saudaji made a little turn, showing off her body to Saboten.

Saudaji was hardly the man that her clothing made her out to be. True, she was shorter than Saboten, (Saboten ran towards the tall and shapely) but she was curvier and more athletically built, a little power house with an ample chest and firm rear. Her skin was the color of jade, with malachite colored nipples and sex. Another thing that her armor was good at concealing were her long and slender headtails. Unlike many other Twi'leks, the only adornment she had on her lekku was a medium ornate golden band - one that mirrored a bracelet that Saboten wore.

Mandalorian culture didn't really make a distinction between the sexes. The saying went, "Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya" - or, "Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger." The worst thing that Saudaji could be called was "delicate."

If only the rest of the cosmos could work that way. Once she set off from what she would vaguely call home, she found that if she revealed herself to be a woman, it made it all that much more difficult to get things done. Even though she wore the Mando Crusader armor with pride and had earned it, other sentiments didn't always see it that way. And add being a Twi'lek to that?

But they usually tended to see things her way after a fight.

"Daj'ika, you have some of the biggest, nicest tits I have ever seen," said Saboten in a mix of awe, envy, and admiration. "It's tragic. I swear if people knew what you had under all of that armor...." She trailed off, a bit wistfully. "You know, you could just live here with me and the rest of the girls. This isn't a bad place to work." Saboten slid into the water, leaning back against the lip of the tub. "Everyone in the galaxy knows you don't get better than Twi'leks and Zeltroans. You could probably make far more here than gadding about."

A smile twitched the corners of Saudaji's full lips. "Maybe. Probably. But I enjoy what I do." The last of her words eased out in a long sigh as she slipped into the hot water. Gods above, this was heaven.

There was no such thing as “off season” on Zeltros. Regardless of the month, the party planet was packed with vacationers from around the galaxy. Every size, shape, and race of reveler could be seen enjoying themselves in Zeltros’ major cities. Just like every form of pleasure– sensual, intellectual, physical, legal, illegal, and everything inbetween – could be found by those with the credits to spare.

Yet there was at least one creature on the planet that wasn’t there purely for fun.

A dull gray Zeltron fly flitted around the interior of the Paradise Cantina. The presence of a fly within the cantina was peculiar for a couple of reasons. First, the building’s automated pest control system - which consisted of ceiling and wall fixtures that lured insects close with chemicals before zapping them to death - should have eliminated any of those critters. Second, the fly wasn’t making any attempt to approach the food, of which there was plenty to choose from.

Instead, the fly attached itself to a wall and watched. It watched the people in swimwear walking to and from the pool area, which was made to look like a desert oasis. It watched the people seated around the establishment’s many tables as they ate, drank, smoked, talked, and laughed. And the fly watched the cantina’s main door to see who came inside.

Behind the tiny fly’s multi-faceted eyes, a tiny camera recorded everything that the insect saw, and transmitted the footage to a datapad a few blocks away.

*****

In a nearby bar that was less successful than the Paradise Cantina but still quite busy, Raeth sat at a corner booth. His legs were propped on top of the table, a near-empty bottle of beer beside them. A datapad rested on his lap, through which he viewed the Paradise through the eyes of one of his fly-shaped spy drones.

Gadgets like the spy drone were among Raeth’s favorite things.

While Raeth controlled the robotic fly’s actions, it looked as though he was simply using his datapad to play video games. In a way, he was playing a game: “Spot the Imperial Killer”. The agent knew next to nothing about his replacement partner, just like the stranger knew next to nothing about him. What he did know was that at 1900, the two of them would each receive a transmission that revealed a picture of the other. Raeth was supposed to then find his new partner and say this code phrase: “Life on Zeltron is quite relaxing.” To which the other would reply, “I couldn’t agree more.”

Code phrases and double-speak were also among Raeth’s favorite things. He really did love his work.

When Saudaji stepped into the Paradise a little after 1400, the agent perked up. “Now there’s a distinct possibility,” he thought to himself as he watched the mercenary enter, only to get greeted with such joy by a delicious-looking Zeltron woman. Raeth’s thumbs deftly manipulated the touchscreen controls of his datapad, and the spy drone’s cameras zoomed in on the reunion. With a couple of screen taps, a picture was taken of the helmeted figure, and the image was dragged to the upper right corner of his datapad.

“Kind of short for a mercenary,” Raeth thought. “He’d better prove to be more capable than he looks.” Although he wasn’t certain this was the person he was meant to meet, right now he looked like the best candidate.

When the mercenary and the Zeltron started towards one of the Paradise’s private areas, Raeth sent his drone in pursuit. But not before he zoomed in on the Zeltron woman’s backside and took a picture. The sight of her round, pink ass combined with the convenience of technology brought a satisfied smile to the agent’s face.

The smile disappeared moments later. When he flew the fly into the private area, a little zap of electricity from a well-hidden pest control unit caught the fly’s abdomen and knocked it out of the air. It landed, tits up, on a patch of grass.

“Stang!” Raeth cursed under his breath. He pulled his legs from the tabletop, sat-up abruptly, and tried to get the spy drone back into the air to no effect. “Careless, star-forsaken moron…” Raeth was annoyed with himself for not spotting the pest control unit. A mistake like that could’ve cost him his life if this was a mission and not a little game on a pleasure planet. A string of curses directed at his own carelessness continued, both whispered and silently through his head, when he determined his spy drone was out-of-commission.

Before he stood up, Raeth pressed a button on his datapad, which caused the fly drone to disintegrate. No evidence, ever. He tucked the datapad into the pocket of his poncho, finished the rest of his beer, left a few credits on the table, and made his way over to the Paradise. It was time to introduce himself to the mercenary and see if he truly was his new partner. He’d have a little fun while he was at it.

*****

When Saudaji eventually left the private area, it was not yet 1900. Raeth was seated at a table directly in her path. He stood up to get in her way, and this was what she saw:

There was a seemingly drunk reveler standing directly in front of her. If not for her helmet, she would’ve caught the heavy smell of alcohol on his breath. His hair was medium-length and dark-brown; his bangs slicked back by gel, except for a lone tendril that flopped over his forehead and reached towards his green eyes. He looked young, and his face had no wrinkles except for a few laugh-lines around his eyes.

His outfit was ridiculous. He wore a very loose-fitting, hooded, green poncho, upon which a simple design of criss-crossing lines was embroidered. It was hard to tell what he was wearing underneath the baggy garment, and it was also hard to tell how he was built. He wasn't particularly tall for a male; 5'10", tops.

“Hey, Tough Guy.” The stranger said with a bright yet crooked smile. “Did you just take a swim with that helmet on? Ha!”

In most other places, Raeth would’ve been making a scene. But in the Paradise, drunken shouting was the norm. So no one paid him any attention, except of course for the mercenary.

An increasingly reluctant eye was kept on her chrono. It was getting harder and harder to leave. The water was hot, the food good, and the current backrub she was getting from Saboten all added to her serious consideration of giving up the Mando lifestyle and staying here.

“Mmm, Bot’ika, I swear, you have magic hands,” she sighed, leaning back into the pink woman’s touch.

“That’s what they all say,” Saboten quipped, kissing Saudaji gently on the cheek.

“And as much as I’d like to stay here,” Saudaji said with a long sigh, “I have to get going.” She wrenched herself from Saboten’s hands, moving to stand up in the pool. Twi’leks were long thought to be hairless save for eyelashes, but that wasn’t quite true. The reality was that their hair was fine. The water pooled right at her pubic line, lapping at the emerald hair. She stretched, feeling her muscles give in much easier than they had before her soak.

Saboten pouted, her lips a darker red against her pink skin. “You have to come back before you leave. We haven’t gone dancing in ages. I’m sure you can pick up some pocket money if you play a show for us.” The navy blue brows were raised suggestively. Saboten’s people didn’t like pain – but she had her fair share of it, and knew how to deal. She hated seeing Saudaji leave, because she never had anything solid that the woman would come back. Unable to meet Saudaji’s gaze, she busied herself by playing with a gold bangle.

Saudaji’s lekku twitched, ever so slightly, as if they picked up on the change in Saboten’s mood. Kneeling so that she was face level with her friend, she gently grasped the sides of her face, leaning forward so that their foreheads touch. Saboten reached up to grasp Saudaji’s arms in her hands. For a long while, neither woman spoke. Trying her best to blink away the stinging sensation in her eyes, Saudaji released Saboten, kissing her forehead softly. Saboten bit her lower lip, fighting her own tears. If her husband could see them now!

Saboten lowered her eyes to the churning water to steady herself. From a distant star, she could hear Saudaji getting out of the tub and beginning the process of putting her “clothes” back on. When she gathered the strength to look up, she allowed herself a small smile as she shook her head. As the supple jade skin vanished under the baggy clothing, she clucked her tongue.

“Tragic,” she said, more to herself. Raising her voice to audible, she called out, “Before you get going, Daj’ika, I’ve got something for you.”

“Oh?” said Saudaji. She had dressed quickly, rearming herself. She didn’t carry anything more than an easily concealed Twi’lek dagger. The blade was dull silver – much used and aged. She didn’t have too much else to remind her of her original people save the blade, and she also knew she didn’t need too much else for her job. She was, after all, a crusader.

But the parting wasn’t easy for her, either.

The simple act of dressing helped to orient herself once again, remind her of why she was “really” there, but she found herself now having to focus on the airy ceiling to fight her feelings. She had so little family…Would it really be that bad to stay? Where she knew someone loved her and cared for her? And then she felt it again, that twinge deep down. The one that allowed her to turn and face her friend, her sister, her something that didn’t quite have words.

Saboten had crossed to the edge of the tub, but declined to get out. “Here,” she said, holding out another gold ornament. “For the other,” she gestured at Saudaji’s bare lekku. “I just got it back from the jewelry maker. Consider it good luck.”

Saudaji knelt, taking the ornament from Saboten. She pulled her bare lekku over her shoulder, taking the great care to make sure that the piece was secured. Her fingers tracing over the ornate engraving, words escaped her. Her voice broken, all she could manage out was “Shabla….Vor entye, Bot’ika. (mild expletive, “Thank you”)

Saboten smiled from her seat in the tub.

Wrapping her lekku about her shoulders, she put on her helmet, and walked out, a warrior again.
_________________________

The Cantina seemed busier than usual. With a wry smile, she thought, “They always come out at night.” The private tubs seemed a world away compared to the chaos and open sensuality of the main room. Not that it fazed her. If anything, it was louder than she liked. She would probably need a pain killer later, if not a full work out to get the noise out of her system.

While she was musing on methods to ease her building headache, the drunk yelled at her. Her fingers itched for her dagger, but she took a deep breath. It was infuriating. If she had on her crusader armor, he wouldn’t have dared spoken to her in such a manner!

Udesii, Saudaji, udesii (take it easy), she breathed over in her head.

She suddenly laughed, the sound broken like falling rocks from the voice modifier in the helmet. She’d had one built into all of her helmets, just to help along the illusion of masculinity. While her voice was a bit on the low side as it was (not quite as sultry as Saboten’s, but something that could be similar in time and practice), it wasn’t enough to dispel any rumors.

“You’re wasting your time on alcohol only, my friend,” she gestured to the bottle with an expressive hand. “There are far more pleasures to be purchased, if one has the credits.” As she faced him fully, she bit her lip so hard that tears sprung to her eyes to stop from bursting into hysterics. This poor human was dressed so silly! Not that she looked any better, but come on, walking in to a place like this dressed like that? Even her lekku shook slightly under her mantle with the motion. Though she had not spent a lot of time on Ryloth, she still knew how to speak Twi’leki, down to the subtle movements and the unspoken that her lekku could communicate to other Twi’leks.

And then she couldn’t help herself. “You know, human,” and the word was spoken without any malice, “Though you may be dressed strangely, your face is good enough to bag a moderately good woman for the night. One can only hope that what lies below your navel is just as enticing, if not more so.”

Their relationship started off so well!

Raeth was not yet certain if the mercenary was, indeed, his new partner. But that was why he engaged in this charade: reconnaissance. In these first few moments, he had already noticed a few things that piqued his interest.

First, the mercenary seemed to have a sense of humor. Raeth’s last partner, Duari, was often too serious, which could make lengthy space travel or stake-outs seem interminable. So if this was who was assigned to him, that sense of humor would help their time together pass more smoothly.

Secondly, Raeth could tell almost immediately that the gun-for-hire was hiding something. He couldn’t tell what, though. It wasn’t just the helmet, which many mercenaries favored. No, what caught Raeth’s keen, well-trained eye was something hidden underneath the man’s mantle, which didn’t fit his shoulders quite right. Maybe he had a concealed weapon under there. Maybe he had shoulder-mounted projectile launchers that shot poisoned darts or, better yet, rockets! Raeth became giddy with the possibilities, which helped him play the part of the drunken reveler more convincingly.

With a subtle and well-practiced waddle, he stepped up to the mercenary so that they were face to face, eye-to-eyeslit. He wanted to have a look into the stranger’s eyes, if the helmet allowed.

“Are you coming onto me, Stranger?” He was still speaking louder than was necessary, considering how close they were, but at least he was no longer shouting. He took a swig from the bottle in his hand before he continued. “I’ve never been with a man before. But I guess what they say is true: anything goes in the Paradise!” Raeth laughed then smiled lewdly.

“My room is across town; plus it’s a dump. So how about we use yours, huh?” Raeth placed a hand on Saudaji’s shoulder and began to clumsily massage it. This gesture had two purposes: First, it was an attempt to figure out what he was hiding underneath his mantle. Second, Raeth wanted to provoke the man into attacking him. He wanted to see how the mercenary handled himself in a fight. Granted, this was a dangerous way to test the stranger's mettle, but Raeth was prepared to limit the amount of damage headed his way.

After all, it'd be silly to get killed in a place like the Paradise just for the sake of reconnaissance.

There wasn’t a rule that Mandos couldn’t be people of good humor. It took all types – and lucky for the drunk in front of her, Saudaji was a woman of infinite good humor. He was also lucky that he had caught her in a good mood. Still trying to repress her chuckles from his outlandish outfit, she relaxed as he tried to find her eyes through the slit in the helmet. The only thing that he would be able to see would be his own reflection in the light. She could see him, however, clear as day, and this close, could even smell the reek of alcohol.

Kandosii! This guy is absolutely TANKED.

He came off as too drunk for most to take seriously.

She wasn’t most people.

She also knew when someone was checking for something. While he probed her arms, she relaxed. She didn’t want to flex, else he’d feel the cultivated muscle under his fingers. And no amount of probing by him (at least within normal decency) would unearth the dagger she had on her person. Best to be relaxed, cool – it would set him at ease. He could be anything from a pickpocket to someone itching for a fight. Without her signature armor, she knew she’d look like any other mercenary.

As his hand lightly brushed against her lekku, they moderately twitched in response. For a Twi’lek, the lekku were an extension of the brain. She tensed, only ever so much. If he had gotten any rougher….that would have complicated the situation much more than she would have wanted.

And if he had touched them just right…well, that would have also complicated the situation.

“Easy on my lekku, human,” she said, chuckling. “I know we Twi’leks are hard pressed to compare against the beauty of the Zeltrons, but we do not lag behind by much. But,” she shifted a bit, merely to spell one of her legs, “Beauty and desirability is all in the eye of the beholder. Some of us are not so fortunate to have the help in pheromones.” There. No harm in letting him know that she was not human. It would keep things suitably light, and she honestly felt no harm in telling him what she was. It really made no difference in the long run, and being forthcoming with someone like him would probably buy her more in the way of being played off.

There was great strength in not being taken seriously or written off. She probably may have had an even more successful run if she had presented herself as the attractive woman she was, but that was a story for another day. As she struggled to get her lekku under control (they were having their own sort of giggle-fit), she shifted under his hands, suddenly pressing her body to his. Running a hand along his jaw, the flat voice dropped to something like a metallic hum.

“While I appreciate the offer, human, I do not think that you would provide the company that I am seeking tonight.” There. He could pat and feel for all the weapons he would want, but the only thing that would come to his hands would be a very solid, very masculine figure beneath the loose clothing. She’d taken pains to pad it in all the right places. The padding added the illusion of masculinity, a certain degree of protection – it would take quite a bit to get say, a stiletto past it-, and additional “hiding” places.

“And,” she said, pushing herself gently from him –too quickly or roughly, and she could be starting a fight that she did not want to get into-, “I doubt that you would have the stamina.” She was glib, something hovering on the edge of "charming." He was just a harmless guy, one that was more than he would portray himself as, but harmless to her at the moment.

The more Raeth learned about the mercenary, the more intrigued he became.

He drew his hand back swiftly when Saudaji’s lekku twitched in reaction to his touch. He didn’t expect that! That surprise almost made him switch into combat mode, but he managed to stop himself from reaching for one of his own hidden weapons. When she explained that she was a twi’lek, he relaxed.

This one was definitely full of surprises. Secrets, too, for her race wasn’t the only thing she was hiding, he realized. It was when Saudaji ran a hand along his jaw that he began to suspect she was a woman. There was something distinctly feminine about her touch and the way she pressed her body against his. When she touched him, Raeth was startled by a pleasant jolt of electricity that ran along his spine, down to his tailbone, and through to his balls, where the sensation lingered.

“She’d damn well better be a woman, “ Raeth thought to himself, ruefully. “Otherwise I’ve got some soul searching to do.”

Raeth decided to drop the act. He raised his hands in front of his chest in a universal sign of ‘truce.’

“Forgive me, Stranger. I was just having a little fun.” He no longer spoke as though he was drunk. Instead, he spoke the Imperial code phrase. Conveniently enough, the code phrase almost fit the situation.

“After all, life on Zeltron can be quite relaxing.”

He watched her expectantly, hoping she knew the correct response: “I couldn’t agree more”. He wore a smile on his face that looked rather charming, thanks to his strong, white teeth and the playful twinkle in his eye.

He really did hope she proved to be his new partner. He had a feeling she would be a lot of fun to work with.

Raising stronger daughters didn’t eliminate the fact that they were women.

Saudaji’s breath hitched when he smiled at her. A part of her giggled like a youngling and another told it to shut up. It wasn’t like her to get gooey at the sight of an attractive man. She had an eye for them, true, but had long learned to control herself around the opposite sex. Men were never quite what they seemed, and once in their confidence, had a tendency to reveal a face that was much better hidden.

Still…there was just something about that smile, the faint lines about his eyes that made her a little starry. Normally, she was usually thankful for her helmet in battle. Now, she mouthed a silent prayer of thanks to her gods that it kept him from seeing her face.

Blades. A good bantha steak. Wine. Blades. The sound of a well landed kick. The feel of fresh blood on her face. Blades. The look in a beaten opponent’s eyes when they suddenly become aware that she held their life in her hands. That unfortunately heavy set human that resembled a Hutt in the tub to her immediate right. A NEW blade.

Focus!

Though it seemed an eternity in Saudaji’s head, only a moment had passed since he smiled at her, and she did well in hiding her minor torment. With a deep breath, she shook her head ever so slightly, her smile growing wider under the helmet. Life was good sometimes, and for the reasons that she hardly let herself stop and notice. Under all of that masculine padding and voice modulation, she was still a woman, and gods, did it feel nice to be reminded of that every once in a while.

Whatever this journey held for her, she was looking forward to it. The warm smile twisted into a smirk. She didn’t know anything about this man in front of her. For Darth Azamin to call her specifically implied quite a few things. He couldn’t be a dar'jetii (Dark Jedi) – he was missing the brooding. Idly, she wondered if he had heard anything about her exploits. She was not a famed bounty hunter, nor was she a well-advertised mercenary. However, it wasn’t like Darth Azamin could scroll through the Galactic Yellow Pages for Mandalorians. It was also possible that he knew as little about her as she did about him, and had not the slightest idea that she was a Mandalorian. Her accent could have been from a number of planets, and she saved the language for herself until she was back in her crusader armor. Her current attire didn’t suggest anything but an eccentric gun for hire. It would be sheer folly to imagine that the man in front of her was just as he seemed. From personal experience, she knew that the most unassuming were the ones that you needed to look out for.

How his skills ranked in battle were yet to be determined. The smirk settling into hard lines, she ran through old tongue twisters in Basic in her head in order to focus her thoughts better. She was told that she had to work with this man, but she would prefer to do things her way. He may be experienced, but she was hired (and though paid quite well, still had half of her payment waiting for her when she finished the job) to do what she did best, and she could not trust an aruetii (outsider) to follow suit

“I couldn’t agree more,” she said, extending a hand. “I’m Saudaji.” Her grip was firm about his wrist, choosing to shake in the style of old warriors. He was going to have to prove himself to her, and work hard to do so. But that wasn’t conveyed in her easy-going handshake at all.

Either he would measure up, or he would fail.

Thus the relationship between Raeth and Saudaji began: with deceit, conflicted sexual attraction, a smile, and a code phrase. This thought crossed the agent’s mind when his fingers closed around the mercenary’s wrist and he returned the handshake. His grip was neither strong nor weak.

“Saudaji,” He repeated her name outloud, and at the same time it echoed in his head. It didn’t sound like a typical Twi’lek name, but he liked it nonetheless. “It’s my pleasure to meet you.

“Let’s go someplace else to talk. The Paradise is getting a little too crowded.” They were both professionals, so he didn’t need to explain that due to the nature of their conversation, they would need to move to a more secure location. Raeth, still wearing his playful grin, made a gesture towards the door before the two of them stepped outside.

Raeth’s airspeeder, which was a sleek-looking, medium-sized 4-seater, was parked less than a block away. The two would fly through the glittery, neon metropolis of Zeltron without saying anything of real import, since Raeth wasn’t going to talk about business until they were within the safety of his ship. He had it regularly scanned for surveillance devices by both the ship’s computer and his security droid, so if there was any place on the planet to share Imperial secrets, it would be there.

Instead of the more serious stuff, Raeth tried to engage her in small talk. Questions like this were asked: “Have you been to Zeltron before?” “What do you think of this place?” “Where’s your ship docked? I’d prefer to use mine as we go 'sight-seeing.' Long-term docking here is very reasonably priced, so that won't be a problem." “The Zeltrons are quite alluring, don’t you think? And I’m not just talking about physically.” Raeth, of course, did not ask about the pink-skinned woman Saudaji met in the Paradise, lest he gave away the fact that he was spying on her.

Traffic in the skylanes was pretty bad that day, so it took them over 15 minutes to arrive at the starport. Raeth skillfully piloted the airspeeder through the nearest entrance to the port, and eased the vehicle downward until he felt the familiar push of repulsor lifts against solid ground. He then navigated through the busy starport towards his awaiting ship.

They approached a Dynamic-class freighter that had the words “The Patient Pylat” written in elegant calligraphy on the starboard side of its cockpick. Underneath its name was a painting of a white bird that rested on a branch and stared peacefully at the viewer.

The Patient Pylat didn’t arouse suspicion in any way. It looked like a regular cargo freighter; it was big, it was painted in inoffensive hues of silver, gray and blue, and it appeared to be armed with standard weaponry. But much like its owner, the Patient Pylat was a dangerous creature hiding behind an unassuming mask. Its array of surprise goodies included ion cannons, heavy-duty shields, enhanced long-range sensors, sensor-jamming devices, and a few hyperdrive modifications unheard of by your typical civilian. It even had a hidden compartment of battle droids that could be launched with a push of a button. The Pylat was Raeth Fulmora’s baby, and he used much of his substantial wages to upgrade it with new toys.

The agent’s swift, nimble fingers tapped at the airspeeder’s dashboard. He punched in a security code while simultaneously opening a com-channel with the Pylat’s onboard computer. “Cargo ramp: open. Pretty please.” The onboard computer verified the manual code, the audio code, and its owner’s voice pattern before it lowered the cargo ramp and allowed the airspeeder to park inside.

“Welcome to the Patient Pylat, Saudaji.” Raeth said with a grin before he hopped out of the speeder. His voice changed. In the Paradise and during the ride over, he spoke without a hint of an accent. Now, however, his words were carried by an accent often heard within the Core Worlds. Coruscant, perhaps? Or maybe Alderaanian? (Think British.)

Raeth lead her out of the Pylat’s giant cargo hold, through a corridor with metal floors and blinking panels on the walls, and into the ship’s cockpit. Once they entered, two battle droids – one on each side of the door – leveled their arm-mounted blasters at them.

“Seven, Eight. Stand down.” The agent said, calmly. The battle droids he named Seven and Eight did as they were ordered and lowered their arm-mounted blasters. They stood in place but continued to watch Raeth and Saudaji while they walked further into the cockpit.

The Patient Pylat’s cockpit was spacious. Behind the three stations meant for a pilot, navigator, and engineer was a large, flat, metallic table surrounded by chairs, all of which were magnetically affixed to the floor. This table was holograph-enabled, and could serve as a meeting table, work station, star map, view screen, and tactical map.

Raeth removed his poncho, laid it across the back of one of the chairs, and had a seat. With the baggy and ridiculous-looking poncho out of the way, it became much easier to tell how the agent was built: he was lean. He had long legs, and was slender at the waist. His shoulders were relatively broad, which indicated the strength therein. The dark brown shirt he wore was not form-fitting, but it was short-sleeved, so she could see his arms from the elbows down. His forearms were lightly covered in hair, and they were packed tight with ropey muscle. His fingers were long and slender, and they looked like they could belong to a painter or a surgeon.

The agent set his legs atop the meeting table and leaned back into his comfy chair. He gestured for her to take a seat as well.

“Please make yourself comfortable, Saudaji.” He smiled that playful smile again, which never seemed to be away from his face for too long. “You can start by removing your helmet. I won’t begin talking shop with you until I can see your face.”

And with that, he waited to see the face of his new companion.

Almost something close to reluctantly, Saudaji let the handshake end. Naturally, she crossed her arms. “I share the same sentiment, although I have not gotten your name. And,” the helmeted head turned to take in the surroundings of the Paradise, “I will have to concur with you.”

She could small talk with the best of them, and answered his questions with a certain lightness that didn’t seem at all characteristic for any sort of gun for hire. However, it was hard not to let herself be distracted by the bright lights of the planet. Like passing through a small galaxy, they glittered, promising pleasures and distractions of all kinds. In the corner of her mind, she wondered how people could actually live on a planet like this. Something was always going on. True, she had once been there as well, but…

Yes, she had been to Zeltros, it was a little too busy for her, but other people seemed to enjoy it, a light chuckle about where her ship was docked. She was to be working with him, but didn’t want to admit it quite just this yet. As much as she did not like to, she had to put some faith in Darth Azamin’s assessment of this man’s capabilities. He would figure it out as they went along. And then came something close to hostility in her voice. Not obviously, but a nerve was tweaked the wrong way.

“The Zeltrons are a people like any others in the universe,” and her tone took on a flat nature. She knew all too well how Zeltron women were treated, and how often they were misunderstood. After all, her own people usually suffered the same fates, but with a less happy outcome. Only someone who had been there could understand. “They have good hearts,” she added, letting the thin undercurrent of anger slip from her voice. It wasn’t as if she could speak to the entirety of the people of the planet. She had been lucky in her dealings with the Zeltrons, both male and female, and she had a sneaking suspicion that it was made easier for her due to their shared histories of enslavement and manipulation. Zeltrons, though, she had to admit to herself with a twinge of envy, had at least more ambition to correct things when they had been wronged. Twi’leks preferred to “ride the storm”, which was a nice way of saying doing nothing.

Personally, she was glad for the conversation, wounded nerve or not. It made the drive go all the quicker.

As they stepped from the speeder, she eyed his ship with a faint whistle. It was a piece of work, that was for sure. Just the size alone gave her a slight sense of awe. But she wasn’t distracted enough not to notice his accent. That was…nice. Unexpected, but nice. And would ultimately make no real difference to her, other than making the sound of his voice the more palatable to her ears.

“Thank you for welcoming me aboard,” she said. She would have felt foolish not to have said anything, and she prided herself on being probably one of the more polite Mandalorians out there. Her own accent varied in thickness. It was never gone by any degree, but could become thicker depending on the situation. When she was around Saboten, it became so thick that it hardly sounded as if she spoke Basic at all.

A lekku twitched, and she reached for her dagger as the droids approached. She delayed herself for a moment, as her thought process moved at light speed. An ambush, but it couldn’t be, because he’d be wounded as well, and she didn’t know of anyone that wanted her dead that badly as to kill someone else to get to her. Before she could continue to withdraw her weapon, her hand suddenly dropped. It had taken a handful of seconds for her to react and dismiss. It was a taste of her abilities, but hardly a showcasing.

Droids would have made for a tough kill with just a dagger; even she knew that. Didn’t mean that she couldn’t have; just that it would have been a fair shade messier than she had intended it to be.

She stood in the middle of the cockpit, taking in the sights as best she could without turning her head all too much. She didn’t want him to think that she was obviously scoping out her surroundings, although the reasons as to why may have surprised him. She had to admit, it was a nice ship. Not a luxury liner by any means, but nice enough. Her own ship had a sort of Spartan feel, and definitely didn’t make for the most welcoming. Hospitality was one of those quirks that she found curious in others.

And if she thought she had gotten a little stupid when he smiled, it really didn’t have much on when he actually took off that stupid poncho. Fighting the urge to let out a small whistle again, she didn’t move from her position. Very nice.
“Of all the felt I ever felt I never felt felt that felt like that felt felt,” she muttered under her breath.

It seemed juvenile, but there was something about tongue twisters in Basic that helped her calm down more than anything else. All warriors had their ways of focusing, drawing on that inner core of stability. She had known one brother to sing the most recent pop tunes across the galaxy, another, to recite the list of Bakura’s exports. The fact that his hand suggested a score of possibilities made her stumble on the last “felt.”

At his gesture, she would take her seat across from him, making sure that there was enough distance for her to move and subdue him if need be. She knew she was at a disadvantage on his ship, but it was a minor concern at this point.
“I suppose you are right,” and her voice held an odd tone of hesitancy. “But perhaps at another time. This is not the armor that I choose to work in, and without my helmet, you would have me at a severe disadvantage.”

She found herself at odds. Usually, she had no problem with exposing that she was a woman to the ones she worked with – but this man would be the first aruteii that she had partnered with, ever. And she was not thrilled at the prospect of being considered lesser by being female, or by being a Twi’lek.

And then it hit her. She leaned forward across the table.

“I will make a deal with you. You fight me to a standstill, and I will remove my helmet. Although we are to work together, I need to know that you are worth the faith that Darth Azamin puts in you. My kind” and she was referring to the fact that was a Madalorian, not a Twi’lek –not that he would know that now-, “do not work with outsiders often. I will need this pledge from you. Fair?”

The agent intentionally didn’t share his name with her in the Paradise. His plan was to tell her his name – his real name, not one of his many aliases - when they were in the privacy of his ship. So when she pointed out that he didn’t introduce himself, he simply grinned and replied, “Just call me ‘Partner’ for now. I’ll tell you my name when I see your face. “

Fast forward to later that day: his new partner still refused to remove her helmet. He laughed, briefly but loudly, when she challenged him to a fight. Then he sat straight in his chair and asked,

“I want to make certain I’m clear on what’s happening: you’re challenging me to a fight on my own ship. If I fight you to a standstill, you will remove your helmet. If I fail to do so, what happens then?” He grinned and raised his eyebrows in question. “You’ll kill me?”

Raeth laughed again and got to his feet. She was quite fun, indeed.

“Very well! We’ll fight. You’ve already set the objective and the rewards, so I’ll set the rules. One: no killing. Two: time limit is 5 minutes. After that time expires, whoever is left standing is declared the winner. The match will be declared a draw if both of us are standing after the time is up. Three…well, I think two rules are enough for our first friendly sparring session.”

He grabbed his datapad from his discarded poncho, then stepped through the door and back into the corridor. He stood just past the door, his proximity keeping it ajar, and waited for her to follow.

“And one more thing: if I somehow manage to win, then you’ll have to agree to whatever victory condition I can devise.” The look in his eye and his smile were both unspoken challenges. “I haven’t decided what that condition will be, but given enough time I’ll think of something creative. I will agree to the same, if you win.”

The two walked down the corridor together, past a curved corner, and then stopped in front of a door. “This,” he gestured to the door with his datapad. “…leads to my quarters. I’m going to change into my workout attire. I also need to send a message to Darth Azamin confirming that you and I have met, and that thus far we are getting along swimmingly.

“You’ll find the Pylat’s gym down the hall; 2nd door on your left.” Again, he used his datapad to gesture where she should go. “I’ll meet you there in a few minutes, and then we’ll get sweaty together.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively before his artist's fingers quickly punched in the code to his room using the keypad beside the door. Sensors hidden within the keys scanned his fingerprints as he typed to ensure it was Raeth doing the typing.

The door slid open with a barely audible hiss. He stepped into his room and closed the door without turning on the light, thus preventing her from getting a good look into his quarters. Inside, he got changed, like he said he would. But he didn't send a message to Darth Azamin. He used his datapad to do something else.

Sure – he had the advantage of being on his ship. But she also had the advantage of, well, being a Mandalorian. They didn’t get their fierce reputation on a mere fluke of circumstance.

But her own brashness had gotten her into a tight situation. Inwardly, she cursed herself. She had jumped too soon, and for what? She could rationalize it, say that she needed to gauge his skills, to understand what she couldn’t immediately see about his ship’s capabilities, or that she needed to better assess what role she was to play as they were going to fight together. Each of her answers were solid, but she knew at this point she was lying to herself. In her head, she could hear her mother scolding her, rewarding her recklessness with a solid slap in the mouth.

“Daj’ika, your speed has its place, but one day it’s going to get you in trouble,” her mother would always say, shaking her head with humor and annoyance.

Too late now.

“Fair enough,” she answered. She had no need to change. He hadn’t said anything about weapons, but she made a vow to herself to attempt to only use her hands. A training exercise was a training exercise, and she hoped for all the cockiness that he showed that it would be worth her time.

Walking down the hall to the training room, her breath sounded unnaturally loud within her helmet. A flutter of nerves caused her to shake herself. Sure, he was good looking. And he was cocky. She liked that. But just because she found him interesting didn’t mean that she was going to throw the fight. When she discerned she was alone, she lifted her helmet up just so her mouth was exposed, and took a few deep breaths of the ship’s air. She hated to admit it to herself, but she still had a hard time thinking clearly after being around Saboten. Saboten couldn’t help her pheromones, but sometimes the after effects were hard to shake. True, Saudaji was as woman as the next, but she didn’t usually let herself just…go.

Either he was something special, or she was just hard up.

Lowering her helmet, she stretched her arms over her head. That was all she was planning on doing. So, her mouth had landed her in an ill-advised situation. She could spend the rest of her brief time alone lamenting her choice, or working with it to improve her abilities.

The workout area didn’t look that impressive, because it was almost entirely barren. There was no equipment to be seen. It was, however, quite clean, and it smelled of a pleasant mix of disinfectant and pine cones. The entire floor was covered in mats designed to cushion falls. And all of the walls, except for the one with a visible door, were lined with mirrors. There were a few racks that held training weapons, like wooden bo staffs or dulled metal swords, all from a variety of different races’ martial arts.

Saudaji may have looked like she was alone in the seemingly simple workout room, but there were eyes on her the entire time. For the Patient Pyalt wasn’t only Raeth’s highly mobile home, office, and sanctuary. It could also become a giant deathtrap under his complete, remote control.

From the comfort of his room, Raeth watched her enter the workout area, thanks to the hidden cameras that fed directly to his datapad. He sat at the foot of his bed and watched her through the screen in his lap, and he wondered what toys he should utilize to take her down.

He considered her helmet again: the object that lead to this friendly fight. He manipulated the touchscreen controls at his fingertips that caused the gym’s cameras to zoom in on her helmet. It didn’t look particularly sophisticated. He doubted that it had a built-in respirator or gas mask.

Smiling giddily to himself, Raeth tapped a few buttons on his datapad, and the gym door became locked. He tapped another set of buttons, and gas was silently pumped into the room. It wasn’t lethal, of course; it was an incapacitating agent known to work effectively on most known sentient creatures. If his guess was right, and the mercenary’s helmet offered no protection against such things, then within the next few seconds, she would start to feel extremely tired and sluggish. And within the next few minutes she would be sleeping like a baby.

The cameras were still zoomed in on her when she lifted her helmet. When her helmet rose above her lips for her to take a few, cleansing breaths, Raeth jumped to his feet and pumped his fist in triumph. “I’ve got you!” He thought to himself while grinning like a maniac. How ironic that she took those breaths to clear her thoughts and wound up inhaling a hearty dose of knock-out gas.

He shut off the gas, unlocked the gym door, tucked his datapad under his arm, and left his room. He didn’t bother to wait for the air filtration system to suck out remainder of the knock-out agent, since years ago he artificially immunized himself against the various, nasty chemicals he employs most regularly. Besides, he wanted to see her before she fell unconscious.

By the time he entered the gym, the effects of the gas would be fully felt by her. Through drowsy eyes she would see Raeth in a simple, loose-fitting martial arts outfit; clean white top and matching pants, no shoes. He smiled at her.

“It’s time for our fight!” He proclaimed cheerfully before setting his datapad down on the padded floor. He rolled his shoulders and his neck to warm up, then stepped closer to her. Then, with a small but victorious smile painted on his handsome face, he decided to introduce himself.

“My name is Raeth, by the way." Those were the last words she heard before she fell into a deep, chemically-induced sleep.

Raeth was a remarkable cheater. It’s one of the main reasons why he’s so good at what he does.

She knew how to deal with blades, blasters, and on one notable occasion, how to escape a grenade thrown directly at her.

Gas, however….

It didn’t take long for the gas to affect her. She didn’t have the experience to even attempt to build a defense to it. It would have been a different story if she had on her crusader armor – if it could withstand vacuum, she would have been fine against the gas. But, alas, this helmet was more for “show” and protection, not for what she would consider “real” combat.

Though weaving on her feet like a kitten, she whirled to face him as he entered, managing enough strength to fling a punch in his direction before collapsing on him. It was only a testament to her training that her punch would miss him by a small margin. If she had her wits about her, the punch would have been devastating.

“Would have” being the prime part of that statement.

“Ooph!” Raeth grunted when she collapsed on him, but he managed to maintain his footing. He was impressed that she managed to walk at all, let alone build up enough momentum to drowsily hurl herself at him. But the gas did what it was meant to do, albeit slower than he would’ve liked.

The agent lifted the unconscious mercenary onto his shoulders and carried her to the Patient Pylat’s medical bay. There, he set her down carefully onto the operating table closest to the door.

The Pylat’s med-bay was equipped with some of the best medical devices, medicine, and supplies that money could buy. There were two operating tables, a medical droid standing in an idle state off to the corner, and a bacta tank near the back. The bacta tank was easily the single most expensive unit in the entire bay.

“Nurse,” Raeth called out. The medical droid immediately perked up and approached him. Raeth programmed the ship’s medi-droid to respond to the name ‘Nurse’. He also programmed it to have a friendly personality and a distinctly feminine voice, since he found it amusing for this machine, with its non-humanoid shape and its multiple arms that ended in pincers, scalpels, and other dreadful-looking apparatuses, to speak with the sultry and somewhat flirtatious voice of a woman.

“Yes, Sir,” Nurse responded, pleasantly. “What may I do for you today?”
Raeth smiled to the medi-droid, then gestured to the unconscious Saudaji. “Please secure our patient to the table. She’s dangerous, and has proven to be somewhat resistant to tolamene.” Tolamene was the incapacitating agent used to render her unconscious. “So exercise extreme caution and ensure she remains sedated.”

“Understood, Sir.” Nurse proceeded to strap Saudaji to the operating table.

“Perform a scan on our patient. I want full biometrics. Scan her for hidden weapons, and check for sub-dermals. And scan her helmet; I want to know if there’s any tech hidden inside that I should be worried about.” If there was anything hidden on or even inside of her person, the medi-bay’s sophisticated scanners were more than likely to detect them.

“Yes, Sir,” Nurse did as it was ordered.

The operating table’s built-in scanners performed their duty in a matter of moments. The holo-projector on the side of the table hummed into life, then displayed a floating image of the mercenary in the air. Raeth used the table’s controls to rotate the image, zoom in & out, and select what type of information to display. While he did this, Nurse removed any concealed weapons the scans detected; the nasty little surprises were all laid out on a nearby counter top.

The scans revealed a great deal about Saudaji’s physical state. They confirmed that she was a Twi’lek, for starters. Much to Raeth’s delight, they also confirmed that she was a woman.

The more the scans shared about her physical condition, the more impressed the agent became. He switched the view to x-ray, which brought up an image of what Saudaji looked like naked. It was a shame that she chose to hide her physique underneath layers of padding, but all of that was rendered virtually non-existent thanks to the scanners. It was strangely intimate.

“Very, very fit, you are.” He whispered to himself before licking his lips. For many long minutes, Raeth thoroughly studied the gray, x-ray image of the unconscious Twi’lek’s body. He rotated the image so he could see her back and front, from top to bottom, zooming in and out as needed. His eyes roamed over her holographic contours: from her lekku to her shoulders. From her breasts down her belly. From her hips, and down her legs. His cock swelled more and more the longer he engaged in this holographic peep show.

He toyed with the idea of cutting away her clothing so he could see her naked body without the aid of technology. Perhaps he could run his hands over her as well, for what he saw was surely too good to not touch…

“What is your next command, Sir?” Nurse’s question broke him out of his trance. Realizing that his mouth had gone dry and that he had lost track of the time, Raeth forced himself into clearer thinking. Knocking her unconscious during their friendly spar was one thing. But molesting her while she slept was something else entirely.

“Stand-by, Nurse,” He said as he stood up. He retrieved a syringe from one cabinet, and a bottle from another. He filled the small, gun-shaped syringe with the contents of the bottle, and told the nurse, “There are a few more things I’d like to do before our patient is discharged.” The medi-bot waited obediently while Raeth injected something into Saudaji’s arm.

*****

When Saudaji eventually awoke, she found herself in a sealed, lit room. She still had her helmet and her clothing, but none of her weapons. The residual effects of the tolamene included a little sluggishness, but aside from that she didn’t feel anything physically amiss.

There was a door on either side of the room, each made of thick metal, and each with a rectangular viewport made of transpari-steel. Through one viewport she could see the Patient Pylat’s cargo bay; through the other viewport she could see stars. So she could immediately recognize that she was in the ship’s airlock, and that the ship was currently in space.

Raeth’s face suddenly appeared in the viewport of the door that lead to the ship’s interior. “Good! You’re awake!” She heard him cheerfully exclaim through the airlock’s speakers.

“As you can see, I won our little sparring match. So what do you say you remove your helmet and we get started on our mission, hmm?” A cocky and triumphant smile spread across the face of the man on the right side of the airlock door.

When his face appeared at the viewpoint, he’d get an eyeful.

Naked as the day she was born, Saudaji had her legs splayed open, attentively inspecting her sex. Framed by curly emerald hair, her fingers parted it, spreading her lips to a very discerning eye. It was only when he spoke that she jumped.
In any other circumstances, frightening a battle-hardened woman would have been amusing. This was just embarrassing.

So, how did she get to this point?

She didn’t recognize the room she was in. As consciousness started to slip back in, so did the torrent of emotion. Absolutely mortified, she had rolled over, burying her face in the floor, a stream of colorful Mando’a curses muffed by her helmet.

Stupid stupid stupid!

Gods, if her mother could see her now. Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself up to a sitting position. She still had her armor and her helmet. Okay, so that was good. First thing was first – and she took off her helmet, setting it aside. She ran her hand delicately up her lekku; no bruising, and her golden charms were still there. That was good. Although they appeared strictly ornamental, it was a Mando gift giving tradition that even the most beautiful of jewelry would, and could be converted to a weapon. Her face now exposed, she moved her hands from her lekku across her face.

Her face would be considered exotic, even by Twi’lek standards. High chiseled cheekbones arched sharply into wide brown eyes, framed by unbelievably thick and long black eyelashes. Her eyebrows sloped over a broad nose, and her lips were full. Although he would probably be too far away to tell, a needle thin scar ran from under her left eye across her lips, a pale green across the jade of her skin. It was a souvenir of a vibroblade fight – in which she had emerged the victor. Even though it was thin, upon closer inspection it would be all too obvious that the cut, originally, was sinister. A little longer, a little deeper, and, well, she would have lost that eye.

Okay…no trauma, no tenderness. So when she fell, he must have caught her. A gentleman, she thought to herself with a wry smile. What a charmer.
Next came the armor. It was relatively easy for her to disrobe. As she discarded her clothes, she stood in the middle of the room, clothed from neck to ankles in a padded body suit that had a slight metallic shine to it. She patted herself down. It figures. She wouldn’t have any of her weapons. She sighed. All of those nice blades….but most importantly, her dagger. Even if she didn’t get anything else back, she wanted that dagger. It was all that she had of her birth parents….and she would gladly slit his throat if he argued about giving it back. Gods help him if he had arbitrarily disposed of it.

Oh gods. If he had her weapons…that meant that he had to have patted her down pretty…thoroughly, to put it kindly. What if he…and her brows drew down in a look of sheer rage. She could appreciate his cleverness in knocking her out (as she had walked RIGHT into that), but to take advantage of a downed opponent was cowardly. Taking advantage of a downed Mandalorian and leaving said Mandalorian alive was asking for death. With a swiftness that belied her still muzzy head, she stripped off this armor. It fell with a varying series of clangs to the floor until it was off. Now down to her most basic layer, there would be no mistaking her for a woman.

Beneath the armor, she wore a second skin black catsuit, for lack of a better term. It covered her from her throat to her ankles, with an inexplicable hole cut in front of her bosom, allowing a ridiculous display of cleavage. Nestled between the firm rolls of her breasts was yet another scar, a strange starburst in the middle of her chest. That was a reminder of the joy of being alive – and had a heavy story behind it as well. The suit did serve it’s purpose – it kept her cool under all of the layers she wore, and kept the armor from chafing her skin. As for why her breasts were on display (considering that it was not the most prudent of wardrobe choices for a warrior) well, there wasn’t a good reason. The armor that she wore above it, ironically enough, had a shelf of sorts built in to provide her with additional support. Truth be told, she treated her breasts with great care – something that her relationship with Saboten had taught her.

In a few more twists of her hands, they would be on full display. She peeled off the black suit down to her waist, sighed, and took it all the way off. For lack of a better word, her breasts were nothing less than perfection. Saboten had hit the nail on the head. Despite her somewhat short frame, they looked almost unreal in their size. However, a twist here, a turn there, and it became all too obvious that they were hers. They were larger than a handful, and looked smooth. Exposed to the chill air, her malachite colored nipples stiffened. With caring hands, she cupped them close to her, eyeing them for any sort of mishandling or extra sensitivity.

One of the good things about having a Zeltron as an adopted sister was that Saudaji’s sex ed was extensive beyond all belief. Anything that could happen, well, Saboten had covered it and made sure that her Daj’ika was protected. Letting her breasts drop from her hands, she felt the firm plane of her stomach, her rear, her hips. All that met her hands was smooth firm skin. No bumps, no bruises, nothing out of place.

And then she looked down at her twat.

The coup de grace.

Flopping down on the ground, she scooted her butt across the cold floor, trying to ease the shock. Once she had settled in, she unceremoniously spread her legs wide and began to inspect her vaginal lips.

And that is how Raeth would find her.

Recovering from her shock, she turned a baleful eye on him. Her quick but thorough inspection had revealed that he hadn’t done anything to her, which was good. Well, more for his sake than for hers. She was inoculated against pretty much anything that could result from sex, including the worst thing of them all – children. Not that she was opposed to them, mind you – Mandalorians were surprisingly family oriented- but it just wasn’t the time.

She was dealing with a slew of emotions. She was embarrassed as hell at being caught off guard (although having her pussy spread in front of a stranger either didn’t phase her or it hadn’t sunk in), glad that he had at least was honorable enough to have molested her, and awed at the sheer…well, balls of this man standing in front of her. Begrudgingly, she had to admire his ingenuity. It wasn’t her style, true, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have some sense of awe at the treachery of others.

“I gave my word,” she said, turning her face towards him. “And you won, no matter how unfairly,” and she jabbed a finger in his direction. “My mistake for being so reckless.” She crossed her legs in front of him now, sitting Indian style as demurely as you please. Sitting up straight did wonders for her already magnificent rack. Space-age double Ds, they were. Part of the marvel about them was well, how in place they looked with the rest of her frame. Depending on how she moved, they either looked deceptively small, perfect, or larger than life. The physics of breasts to the uninitiated must be fascinating.

She wasn’t unnaturally thin, but calling her “fleshy” or “thick” wouldn’t work, either. Her obliques were well defined, even as she sat. She had the makings of a solid six pack, but just enough flesh to keep it from being all the way there. Her legs and arms by far were the most defined.

She stood now, taking a look out at the vastness of space. It was easier than facing him. Squealing and running to get dressed wasn't her style. And she wanted to be mad at him, but it was hard when he was smiling like that and it did things to her that let her know that it wasn't just Saboten's pheromones that had her reacting to him like that. Damn. Maybe just a little something to get him out of her system, get her head straight. It wasn't unheard of. Her back was to him now. Beneath her lekku curved an elegant neck, leading down into the gentle slope of her strong ass. She put her hands on her hips.

“You know my ship was on planet. Along with my actual gear."

Raeth watched her strip-show and self-inspection through the airlock’s cameras. He certainly didn’t expect that. And he also wasn’t going to pass up a chance to watch.

He was seated just outside of the airlock, just out of sight, with his datapad in his hands. On the device’s screen was the image of Saudaji. Where her eyes and hands went, so did his: he zoomed in and panned out often to get the best view of her. He studied her in a way that was fundamentally similar to what he’d one in the medibay, except this was much better.

Through the artificial eye of the camera, he admired her form. He took note of the way that she delicately felt her lekku. He had seen a Twi’lek naked before, but he had never touched one, so he imagined what it must feel like to have his fingers gliding upon the alien body part.

Xenobiology was one of his many, many interests. From a physiological standpoint, he was familiar with the lekku and what it did. But of the books and holodisks he read about Twi’lek biology, he didn’t read anything regarding the lekku’s role in sex. He was almost as curious as he was aroused at that moment.

Without him realizing it, his breath caught in his throat when he first saw her face. She was a stunner. To think that a killer capable enough to be on Darth Azamin’s call list could be this beautiful was especially surprising.

His eyes widened when she stripped down completely. Her breasts were magnificent. They were especially pleasant to the eye because of the exotic combination of her inhuman skin tone and her malachite nipples. His mouth was practically watering as he zoomed the camera in on her breasts and watched her lift, move, and inspect them.

The rest of her naked body was also quite tantalizing. He very much appreciated how she was built. All of that muscle built for strength, endurance, and battle efficiency. And yet the muscles did not interfere with her femininity. In some ways, they enhanced her womanly beauty.

It was when she sat on the cold metal floor of the airlock, spread her pussy lips apart and examined her nethers that Raeth realized his erection had grown so stiff that it hurt. After watching her inspect herself for a few more minutes, he finally tore his eyes off of the datapad to stand up and adjust his pants in a vain attempt to get more comfortable. No, it would take more than that to grant him relief.

He set the datapad aside and looked at the closed, airlock door, as though he could see through it to the naked Twi’lek mercenary on the other side. In silence, he contemplated. He could either take a few minutes to compose himself, maybe get a really cold shower. Once his cock behaved itself, he would approach her and they could begin business, both of them fully clothed.

Or…

“Freg,” he cursed in his head. He was about to do something that would’ve been reckless if not for the insurance policy he injected into her while she was unconscious. Still, even with that precaution in place, he may not get out of this completely unscathed. But the temptation to get closer to her and to see her naked flesh without the assistance of holographic projections or cameras was too great for him to ignore.

It was then that his face appeared through the transpar-steel viewport of the airlock door, and the two of them exchanged words for the first time since she awoke. When she stepped away from the door, put her back to him, and looked out the opposite door to outer space, he opened the door and stepped into the airlock. He had a blaster pistol in his hand; it was silver in color, except for the brown of the wooden grip. The weapon had a long, narrow barrel, and it was pointed at the middle of her deceptively delicate back.

“I trust there aren’t any hard feeling between us?” He asked. Regardless of her response, he took a cautious step inside, followed by another, and another. She was dangerous, and potentially looking for revenge on the trick he had played on her. But that did not stop him from approaching her.

“Don’t worry about your ship and your equipment. They’re safe. As are you, as long as the two of us get along.” That last bit dripped with meaning.

She could feel him standing directly behind her. Also, in the reflective surface of the metal door she was facing, she could see his silhouette joining hers. Standing this close to her, he had no difficulty catching her scent, and committing it to memory. Her scent caused his already stiff cock to twitch.

The next thing she felt was the touch of cold touch of metal upon the skin of her lekku. He pressed the tip of the blaster pistol’s barrel against her lekku, and then dragged it along the lekku’s curve, slowly. He watched her closely, alert for any signs of violent intent towards him, and also for her reaction to being touched in such a way.

“You have a pretty spine.” He said, quietly, mere moments before the blaster’s tip ran down the length of her spine. He was smiling. The comment bordered on silly, but it was spoken in such a sexual tone. The touch of the barrel stopped at the base of her spine, where the metal pressed firmly against her tailbone.

Yes, what the agent was doing right now was dangerous. Life-threatening, really. But the thrill of risking his life was one of the things that made him truly alive. Coupled with the sight and nearness of a creature as tantalizing as Saudaji, it was no wonder he was having a hell of a good time.

The blaster was delightfully cool on her skin. Without turning around, she raised her hands, her palms facing the window. Her lekku twitched ever so slightly as the blaster barrel made its way down to the curve of her spine, reacting the same as a hand would instinctively jerk away from a hot surface.

“Thank you, Raeth. I prefer it inside of my skin, though.”

Her eyes found his in their reflection, and she smiled.

So he had a blaster to her back. So she was naked. So she was on his ship. Surprisingly enough, she had actually been in worse situations.

Times like this, she was glad to be alive.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, her chest rising visibly with the motion. For a moment, she held it. Opening her eyes, she let out the breath slowly through parted lips.

And struck.

Without a tell-tale shift in her weight, her right foot lashed out at the hand holding the blaster. Despite the somewhat sloppy appearance of the kick, there was enough controlled power behind it not to cause lasting damage to his hand. A good thing, for Saudaji did have the power to break bones with a focused kick. Before he could think of going for the blaster, she had deftly caught it before it had a chance to hit the ground. Idly twirling it around her finger, she grinned at him. She could train it on him, but she didn't feel the need to threaten him further. He had done nothing to her while she was knocked out, and she had walked right into his deception. It would be a poor sport indeed that would hold that against him. He used his brains when she was prepared for nothing but brawn. That had been her mistake, and a valuable lesson to learn about not only him, but the ship that they were one. Perhaps this strange man might have what it took to fight alongside her.

The interesting thing about Mandalorians was that, for the most part, they were a war-mongering people. For the most part. Saudaji was interesting in the regard that she did not usually meet most stereotypes of Mandalorians. If it had been Saboten, Raeth probably wouldn’t have survived the ensuing tussle. Saudaji was more even-tempered – it took a lot to truly anger her. Her rashness in battle was merely out of zeal, not out of bloodlust, and given the choice, she would be hard pressed to say what she liked more – good food, a good fuck, or a good fight.

“Now, knocking me out, shame on me. Threatening me with a blaster, well, aruetii, you got guts. I like that.” She winked at him, a big smile on her face. “But it wouldn’t do if just kept letting you do whatever you wanted.”

Still twirling it around her finger pretty as you please, she walked back over to her clothes. “I’ll give it back when I finish getting dressed. True, I can’t stop you from attacking me or doing something else, but I really wouldn’t advise it.”

Sitting down, she set the blaster next to her, and began to tug on her black suit. True to the strip show he’d watched prior, she wore no additional undergarments beneath it. Tugging it up her hips, she huffed and grumbled a little in Mando’a, before sticking out her chest and sucking in her stomach. Adjusting her breasts, she turned this way and that, making sure everything was secure.

“Would you so kind?” She turned her back to him, gesturing to a hidden clasp. “I can usually do this myself, but since you’re here and I’m sure you’re dying to make up your prior treatment of me, might as well put you to use.”

This wasn’t the first time Raeth was attacked by a naked assailant. Nor was this the first time he had a boner during a fight. This was, however, the first time both happened at the same time, so kudos to Saudaji for that.

“Ow.” He said, childishly, after she kicked the blaster out of his hand. He pretended her kick hurt more than it did by shaking the hand she struck, then massaging his wrist. “You’re fast, I’ll give you that.” Out of tact, the agent didn’t say what he was thinking: “If only you were as smart as you are fast.” In addition to holding his tongue, he prevented a smile from reaching his lips.

Instead, this is what he said, “That’s good. You’ll need every bit of speed for our assignment.” When the mercenary pulled on her catsuit, the agent watched her unabashedly. His member strained against his pants more, especially when she (perhaps intentionally?) thrust her breasts towards him, sucked in her stomach, and stuffed her tits into the skin-tight garment. The shapeliness and size of her breasts were already a feast for his eyes, and the distinctly Twilek skin coloration made them even appealing to him.

“I have never found the act of dressing as arousing as I do now.” He quipped quietly, this time allowing his smile to surface.

When she turned around and asked him to zip her up, he happily obliged. “We clearly don’t need to work on your physique. You’re already in top shape.” His lips were very close to her ear when he spoke, and his voice was a surprisingly intimate whisper. “But we will need to work on your situational awareness.” That last line wasn’t intimate; it was serious.

He zipped her up, then stepped towards the door out of the airlock. “Playtime is over; time to get to work. I’ll meet you in the cockpit for the mission briefing.” He stepped outside, but then stuck his head back into the airlock. “Oh, the blaster is yours.” He waggled his eyebrows at the blaster she left on the floor. “Please accept it as a peace offering. I have no doubt someone with your appreciation for weaponry can recognize its value.”

He didn’t need to explain to her what she could easily see. The elegant weapon he had used to tickle her lekku and spine was an ELG-5A; it was expensive and relatively rare. Only Core World royalty, wealthy diplomats, or resourceful collectors could get their hands on one of these babies.

“It would give me a good deal of pleasure knowing that you put it to good use.” Raeth exited the airlock completely. Before he walked down the hallway leading to the cockpit, he called back to her. “Make sure you replace the power cell.”

If Saudaji inspects the blaster more closer, she’ll discover that its power cell is completely drained.

It would have been easy to smirk, to be overconfident at his assessment of her speed. Most people would be. But she had too much going through her head at that moment to have given that typical response. On one level, she knew he was fooling her – she was confident enough in her control that she knew, without a doubt, she had not kicked him hard enough to cause any injury. It would have felt the same as a firm strike on the hand with, oh, a ruler. It was the type of strike that could easily be mistaken as coming from a weak opponent. On the other level, her mind was going like ticker-tape, trying to assess the man in front of her and the myriad of faces he possessed. It was foolish to work in this line of business and expect an honest answer from anyone.

The same would go for her.

She was rash, true enough, and like most people, had her areas of expertise. She wasn’t big into politics or economies, per say. For most, even being a Mandalorian would make it easy to dismiss her as no mental giant. She also did well to play that up herself. She could tell by his attitude that he was perpetually used to having the upper hand, that he thought several paces ahead, and already made the assumption that she probably wasn’t the brightest star in the system.

Fine by her.

“I would imagine that speed would be an asset, yes,” and she fought the urge to shiver as his fingers trailed down her back, dutifully zipping her up. And he was a gentleman, on top of that. Well, at least good at playing one. Saboten would have had her drummed out of the tribe if Saudaji couldn’t detect when any male sentient being was sporting a sign of arousal. That would work to her benefit as well. She had to admit, she liked the man. He was good looking, crafty (or at least good at playing it), and good looking. Far be it from being superficial; just an accurate assessment of what she had to deal with right then and there.

“Mmm, you are right there,” she added, moving her lekku over her right shoulder. She trailed her fingertips down them, enjoying the slight pleasurable tingle that came with the gesture. She wasn’t going to argue with him there. She had walked blindly into very stacked odds, and considered herself lucky that she had escaped unscathed. It was easy for her to take the situation with good humor. At least, now it was. “I have always been too rash,” she added.

It was an obvious weakness, and one that she knew right off the bat could be exploited by someone who imagined that they were in charge. She wasn’t totally sure that it was the best idea in the world admitting it to him, but if it gave her the edge by seeming that she had such a novice weakness, so be it.

Admittedly, she usually didn’t let her hormones get to her as much, either. There was just something about this man that made it hard for her to focus on anything other than the possibility of those long fingers or how his body would feel against hers. Gods, when was the last time that she had gotten laid? Long before her last visit to Zeltros, that was for sure. With her lifestyle, in many regards, she could be confused with being ascetic, really. Not entirely true. There had been that Falleen male a while back…That had been more for a ride on those pheromones, though. Always a fun experience. A drug without any sort of withdrawal symptoms – IF you knew what you were getting into.

She rolled her eyes, albeit playfully, when Raeth wiggled his eyebrows at her. Oh, he just thought he was just so clever, didn’t he? Kneeling to inspect the blaster, she let out a low whistle. It was truly a gorgeous piece of weaponry. No doubt acquired under less than legal situations. Too bad blasters weren’t her weapon of choice. But it would make a fine addition to her collection, nonetheless.

“That….” And she lapsed into a string of Madalorian, the finer points of Basic slipping her mind. He was just too much. And that did something to her more potent than even the most ardent Falleen could have dreamed of. She eyed her discarded armor in a pile on the floor, then the closed door in front of her. There wouldn’t be any need for any of that. At least not now. And not with what she had in mind. She had to get him back, but more importantly, she wanted a taste. Something to take the edge off. She needed to be able to think straight on this mission, and she knew he knew what he was doing to her. He considered himself too smart not to actively be trying to manipulate her.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed through the door, leaving the blaster on her discarded armor. She wouldn’t need either, with what she had in mind.
________________________

“You are just full of dirty tricks,” she said, her accent seeping into the heavy side as she stalked up behind him in the cock pit. The chill air within the ship toyed with her nipples beneath the fabric of her jump suit, little erect dots breaking up the smooth flow of black fabric.

Leaning next to him in his seat, she was close enough for him to catch the floral oils from the bath she had shared with Saboten earlier, to see the delicately raised flesh of the scar between her breasts. At this close proximity, there was no mistaking her for anything but very, very female.

Reaching forward, she trailed a finger lightly down the side of his face, stopping under his chin to tilt his face up to hers. Mocha colored eyes searched his green ones, and her expression was unreadable. Even the sensuous coils of her lekku lay flat against her back. The corner of her full lips twitched, as if she was going to say something, but words escaped her. Then she smiled.

The expression brought a youthful light to her face, and even the thin scar across the left side of her face didn’t seem as harsh. “You,” she said, definitively, her breath like sweet wine and honey. He was probably used to this sort of thing. He was an attractive enough creature, and surely had his fair share of women over him. That didn’t bother her. If anything, she hoped that it meant that he knew what to do with what she was about to do with him.

Closing the gap, she pressed her lips fiercely to his. There was no such gentleness from her, at least, not yet. She’d been “bested.” At least, for the moment. And the high from that was delicious. Without waiting for a reaction from him, her lips parted, her tongue prying none too gently into his own mouth.

Raeth watched her carefully when she entered the cockpit. Outwardly, he looked relaxed; in fact, he looked quite comfy seated at the meeting table. But he was very much on his guard. She had proven that even when buck ass naked, she was a threat. Seeing her enter without any armor or weapons, only her form-fitting cat suit, didn’t lower his guard at all.

He grinned and even laughed, once, the moment he saw her. He thought to himself, “You’re not fooling me, you green-skinned mankiller.” He suspected she wanted to harm him, badly.

The agent quickly realized he needed to adjust his assessment of her intentions. The way she moved was clearly different. When she was in her “work clothes” back on Zeltros, and even here aboard the Patient Pylat, she disguised her femininity with a man-like gait and battle-ready posture. The way she walked then was distinctly feminine, and damn was it alluring. His shaft pushed upon his loose-fitting, white pants even before she closed the distance between them. His erection stiffened all the more when she gracefully slipped up to his seat from behind, and leaned close.

She wanted to do something to him, but harm wasn't it.

Her scent was already familiar to him. He had already been intoxicated by it when, in the medibay, he had studied her while she was unconscious. The same could be said about the many unique characteristics of her body, like her scars. Although he did not touch her (not in a sexual way, anyway) while she was knocked out, his eyes did feast upon her shamelessly, both in the medibay and when she conducted a thorough self-inspection in the airlock.

He maintained outward control when she first touched him. But the contact of her bare finger on the skin of his face – that touch, and perhaps the unspoken promise it carried – caused a most pleasant series of tingles to surge throughout the rest of his body. She made him tilt his face up to hers, and their eyes met. His eyes told her nothing. But while no secret message was conveyed by his gaze, the fact that he held his breath may have told her that her nearness and her change in behavior were having a profound effect on him.

Silently, he admired how her mocha-colored eyes went well with the jade of her face and the rest of her body. Briefly, the thought crossed his mind that the color of her skin was similar to the color of his eyes. What a strange, beautiful coincidence; one that could only happen with a Twi'lek.

Then the mercenary and the agent kissed. Since she joined him in the cockpit, Raeth had been totally silent. The urgent meeting of their mouths elicited the first sound from him, “Hummm…” It was a mix of a hum and a moan that turned into something more animal-sounding when she stuck her tongue into his mouth. He closed his eyes and was immersed in the kiss, entirely.

Saudaji may not have known this, but she was certainly going to discover that her new partner can be an exceedingly sensuous person. His eyes had plenty of time to feast upon her body. But now it was time to indulge his other senses with her.

The agent sprung into action almost immediately after their mouths connected so sinfully. He spun his chair around to fully face her, then he grabbed two handfuls of her ass and pulled her onto his lap. Raeth was not a big man – at 1.78 meters, he was not much taller than her. And he had a slender build. But despite his modest size, he was surprisingly strong; and he was more than happy to use that strength to pull her body onto his, and to hold her tightly. His erection bulged against her now that their bodies met.

Saudaji discovered that Raeth’s fingers were indeed talented. They deftly manipulated the flesh of her shapely ass. She felt as good as he imagined she would – better than he imagined – and thus his hands massaged her with an eagerness inspired by the beauty of her body's touch.

Raeth moaned, shamelessly, throughout their kiss. Her lips were delicious. For a woman who was so hard in physicality and demeanor, her lips and tongue were seductively soft. Raeth’s lips and tongue, meanwhile, held the lingering taste of the spice wine he drank while he waited for her to wake up in the airlock. At first his tongue played a passive role in the kiss. As her tongue freely explored the inside of his mouth, he used his to gently stroke the sides, underside, or to tickle the tip.

But it did not take long for him to match the fervor of her kiss. Anything remotely gentle was replaced by sheer need – the need to taste her, to trace her teeth with his tongue tip, to feel her lips sliding upon his, and to suckle on her tongue. Sloppy and graceful at the same time, their tongues wound up entwined in his mouth, in hers, or inbetween. The agent withdrew his tongue so that he could hold her tongue between her lips and massage it. Then, with a throaty moan, he mashed his mouth more fully upon hers.

One of his long-fingered hands made their way up her body. His fingertips tickled her spine before targeting her lekku. Unlike their kiss, which was wild and becoming wilder the longer it went, the fingers of the agent slid along the skin of her lekku so softly. It may have been a wonderful contrast of sensations for her – to have her lekku delicately toyed with by artistic fingers while simultaneously engaging in a hot, lurid kiss.

If Raeth had his way, their kiss lasted for a long, long time. It becomes no mystery to Saudaji that her new partner really liked the taste and feel of her lips and tongue. Any attempts she may have made to break away or change positions would be resisted. She could overpower him if she wanted to due to her superior physical strength, but it was Raeth’s desire for her to enjoy the kiss as thoroughly as he was.

Eventually, the kiss was broken. But not until both of their lips were puffy, both of their tongues were cramped, and both of them had been robbed of breath. As he struggled to think straight and to recapture his breath, he looked to her face. And he grinned boyishly.

“You taste marvelous, Saudaji.” He told her, breathlessly, his words tinged with the Core World accent that was so different than her own. To illustrate how much he meant what he said (as though the longevity and passion of their kiss wasn’t enough), he tilted her head to the side, so he could lick the side of her neck. His tongue tip stopped at the junction where one of her headtails began; he tickled the flesh thereupon with the tip of his tongue.

“Mmmm…” Raeth moaned into a growl when he suddenly lifted her up and forced his ass off the seat. She was powerfully-built, but thankfully she wasn’t heavy. The agent planted her back to the table and pressed his body on top of hers.

“Now,” the agent leaned back and revealed a tiny blade in his hand. The look on his face was wicked; especially his smile. “…let’s get you out of that suit.” Ignoring the zipper at the back, he proceeded to cut the catsuit off of her. The knife’s edge started between her breasts, directly underneath the scar between them, then swept downward. He demonstrated how skilled he was with the blade then, for though she could feel the blade against her skin as it parted the material of her suit, she was dealt no harm, and not a drop of blood was drawn.

Thus Raeth undressed her and took their coupling to the next inevitable stage. All of this was done while the two battle droids – Seven and Eight – watched silently at the door.

It goes without saying that the more someone falls into physical desire, the less coherent the thought process becomes.

When Saudaji made up her mind to start this with him, she didn’t have it planned out further than sating her desire on him. She could be incredibly single-minded with what she wanted to focus on, and how to obtain it. The minute he shifted, the moment his pulse and breathing changed, she had him. And she wasn’t going to let him go. When he returned the kiss with more fervor than she had imagined, he was effectively caught. Her arms snaked about his neck, pulling him, -no, “forcing” was more like it- closer into her, barely giving the two breathing room. How she managed to breathe without freeing her lips from the death grip they had on his was a mystery. Not even when he grasped her ass and pulled her into him did she break it. On the contrary, she somehow managed to deepen it, using her legs as leverage.

One of the benefits of not wearing any additional undergarments beneath the sleek suit was that she could feel every line and fold of his garments beneath her – and his pants did little to nothing to mask his erection. Twisting herself in his grasp slightly, she wrapped her legs about his waist with practiced finesse. As hazed as her mind was, she still had enough training to know how to control her formidable strength and not to either crush him with her thighs or send items flying. However, the events were still young yet, and there was no promise that she wouldn’t end up breaking something in the course of events. His erection was pressed deliciously against her, and with a slow roll of her hips, she rubbed her slit against him. The throbbing had started early for her – it could be argued that it started when she really got her first good look at him. It was a slow, insistent, needful pulse in her lower lips, the urge that screamed at her to take him and fuck him until he was nearly blind.

But…part of getting what she wanted, part of teasing him, part of getting him to that blissful peak was patience. Though the fabric of his pants might not tell as clear as a tale, a damp spot was spreading across her crotch. It would seem innocent at first, something as simple as her adjusting herself for a more comfortable position. It would be the insistent, slow, continual rubbing of her lips against his phallus that might just give her away. Her wetness was bleeding through now as she teased herself, pressing her chest against his to rub her nipples against his chest. The continual pulse of her crotch turned from a slow burn to a sudden inferno as he stroked her lekku softly. The heady smell of his desire, the firmness of her erection….she felt herself overwhelmed for a few moments. Before she could stop herself, she moaned, low and soft against his lips, her back arching delicately under his hands, driving her crotch further into his.

“Shab’la…” she half-growled, half whimpered. It had been too long for her. She just needed that one word, that half a moment, that quick spell to catch her breath before her lips were locked against his again. Her tongue sparred playfully with his. In the back of her mind, she had to wonder if he was just…that attractive to her, or if he had used something to give his performance a boost. After all, you couldn’t really tell when pheromones were being used against you. But at this point, if he had wanted to hurt her, he would have, and truly, if she had wanted him dead she could have done it there as well. Death was the last thing she had on her mind for him, though. Far from it. Not with how he used his tongue.

When he broke the kiss, long long moments later, she gasped with him. It was a combination of her having held her breath to prolong the kissing as well as just being swept away in the moment. She was finding it hard to string a sentence together, let alone think of anything in Basic.

And then he did it. His tongue lightly traced the base of his lekku, and she grabbed a fistful of his hair. It wasn’t hard enough to signal that he needed to stop, nor was it gentle, either. There was just enough sting, just enough force for her to get her point across – more.

“Ne'johaa,” (shut up) she snarled, not unkindly. No more talking. And, much to her delight, she found herself lifted in his arms. She made no move to unhook her strong legs from about his waist; it’d help the both of them. The table, oddly enough, seemed to fit the curve of her body comfortably. Leaning back, she tested the strength of it. It should be able to hold their weight without a problem. Licking her lips idly, her eyes darted to the blade. For a moment, she stiffened. He would have her in a spot – but not enough for her to be concerned. Unabashed, she pressed her breasts into his hand, challenging him.

The fabric of the suit parted like hot butter under the sharp twist of the blade, and her skin was unbearably hot and slick beneath it. The suit clung stubbornly to her flesh, refusing to show him any more than what he could have without the slit. She reached between their bodies, her fingers deft as she tugged the material away from her body. Without breaking away from him, she succeeded in uncovering the “important bits” – her breasts and the enticing damp tangle of emerald curls between her legs. A bead of sweat trailed from the starbust of her scar down the flat valley of her stomach and into the dip of her navel.

Far from being content with preparing her own body for his, the same darted up, reaching for the taunt muscle of his chest. This was no way to admire, let alone prepare for what she wanted. Leaning up, using the table for leverage, she ripped his shirt from him in a smooth motion. With his chest now bare to his, she signed in contentment. Much better.

Damn, she had strong legs. If not for the full bio-scan he conducted on her earlier, he would’ve wondered if they were cybernetic. But he knew it was all flesh and bone, which made him appreciate her body all the more. She was so deadly, and yet so gorgeous. And she did a magnificent job stealing his breath with her kisses and also squeezing it out of him with her thighs.

He was keenly aware of how wet she was. He could smell it. The aroma was not entirely dissimilar from that of a Human woman’s, but the differences were enough to make it that much more erotic to him. And of course he could feel the dampness growing between their grinding crotches. The front of his pants were moistened by her juices, just as the inside of his underwear was getting moistened by the precum that dribbled from the head of his cock.

The two of them dry-humped each other so lustfully throughout their heated kiss. The way Saudaji ceaselessly ground her hot, covered mound against his turgid phallus…coupled with the toying of their tongues and the stroking of their lips…it all made for a truly exquisite experience . Raeth exercised an incredible amount of control by not shooting his load during their impassioned embrace.

Later, when Saudaji was on the table, and her suit had been sliced right down the middle, Raeth stood up. Her ass was partially dangling off the edge of the table and her vice-like legs were still around his thin waist, but he forced himself up so he could see her at a better angle. His crooked smile, raised eyebrows, and widening eyes all wordlessly thanked her for peeling her skin-suit off her actual skin.

He likened the scene playing out in front of him like the peeling of an exotic, tropical fruit. But that image was completely swept away by the erotic reality: that she was undressing for him, inviting him to look and to do so much more to her. Raeth’s mouth and throat went suddenly dry, and his eyes were transfixed. He drank in the sight of all the beautiful jade flesh she revealed for him. Her sweat-covered breasts, each with a malachite tit at their peaks. The curly, green hair and the inviting folds of flesh between her legs. He was captivated all over again. So much so that he didn’t notice when she ripped the front of his shirt, revealing his torso to her.

Raeth had incredible muscle definition. Practically every muscle of his chest and abdomen were clearly defined. Slender at the waist, and without an especially broad chest or shoulders, the agent’s physique was closer to that of a svelte rock star than to a professional warrior. He didn’t have that much muscle mass, nor did it look like he had an ounce of body fat.

His skin was white without being pale. And it looked quite smooth, and it was coated in a sheen of sweat thanks to how high she had driven his body temperature. There was no hair on his chest.

Somehow, his eyes managed to break away from his tantalizing flesh to catch sight of that droplet of sweat that formed at her cleavage, near the star-shaped scar above it. His gaze followed the sweat drop travel down her body to be collected by her belly button. That bead of sweat acted like a targeting laser, directing the agent’s sexual assault towards his next target. He dropped the blade in his right hand onto the floor, and attacked her with his mouth.

Raeth lowered his head and attached his lips to her belly. He sucked the sweat from her belly button, and immediately after that he tickled it with the tip of his tongue. Her sweat had a fascinating taste to it. It was salty like Human sweat, but there was something different about it. Like the taste of her kiss and the feel of her flesh, he committed the taste of her sweat to memory. And he delighted in the fact that there was so much more of her to experience and catalogue in his brain.

The surface of her tummy thus became bathed by his tongue. He used his tongue to feel the muscles under her scarred yet silken skin, and then he traced the contours of her muscles with licks. He kissed and sucked at her skin, liberally. He ran the edges of his teeth against her skin, as well. Her navel got covered by his lips and suckled upon at least one more time before his mouth eventually traveled elsewhere upon her delectable body.

His hands were not idle during this. His left hand went straight to her head, where he cupped her cheek. The tips of his fingers caressed her forehead and the curve of one of her eyebrows. The tip of his thumb gently outlined her lips and caressed the thin scar that intersected them. If she wanted something for her mouth to do while his mouth enjoyed her flesh down below, then she was more than welcome to lick or suck on his thumb.

His right hand traveled up her side, stole a feel of her flat tummy, then latched itself to one of her tits. While maintaining his lips’ and tongue’s contact with the flesh of her tummy, Raeth looked up to watch his hand man-handle her breast. His lengthy fingers curled around her breast, and he squeezed it strongly. He marveled at how good it felt in his hand; her breasts looked firm, yet they were pliable and invited more squeezing. Finally, he caught one of her green tits between the tips of his middle finger and thumb, and rolled it between them. The nipple was already erect, and he endeavored to make it even stiffer with some insistent pinching and stroking. When he felt it was stiff enough, he lifted his head to her chest, caught the peak of her breast in his mouth, and sucked on it firmly. Before long that one breast was covered in licks, nibbles, and wet kisses.

The duration and the passion of their first kiss showed her how deeply her new partner could get lost in the sensation of her. What he was doing to the front of her body was further proof. He was making noises – both loud and soft – akin to the sounds someone would make when enjoying a hearty meal. It really did sound and look and feel like he was trying to devour her. The entire front of her body had become a landscape dedicated to the grazing of teeth, caressing of lips, and hungry swipes of his tongue.

Unless Saudaji put an end to this herself, this treatment continued for an exceptionally long time.

Eventually, the agent stopped. He was breathless and still ravenous for her, but he wanted even more. She wasn’t totally naked, because the remnants of her bodysuit still clung to her sweat-soaked arms and legs. He took this opportunity to peel the fabric off of her completely and get a breather while he’s at it.

The image of peeling a ripe fruit again flashed before his eyes. Saudaji may not have been a piece of tropical fruit, but Raeth was, in a way, going to eat her. He smiled madly in anticipation, and took a lingering, lasting look of her right after he had her completely naked on the table.

Basic fled from her mind.

A stream of Mando’a profanities slipped from her lips, peppered with sharp gasps. She wouldn’t say his name, not yet. Her stomach trembled beneath his burning kisses, and her fingers found his hair again. Running her slender fingers through it, she savored the fine quality of it, before a particularly sharp bite caused her to close her hand, tugging on his hair with a light sting. She was possessed enough of her senses not to do something that would cause him direct harm – or something that she thought that he couldn’t handle.

He surprised her. It was one thing to have wild lust returned. That’s how it had started, and it had not surprised her. It was when he started to caress her face that she stopped. It was only a momentary pause, but it created a drastic change in tone for her. Although one hand grasped the side of the table to steady her (and to help her scoot her butt further on it), the other hand moved to cover his, moving it back to the side of her face. She had enjoyed the caress, but didn’t trust herself to directly tell him that. That ran the risk of making this something more than what it was – wild rutting. That’s all. Right? Something along those lines.

Thankfully, his fingers closed on her nipple, and any further thought fled from her mind. Although it seemed neatly predictable, Saudaji’s breasts were incredibly sensitive, despite the brutal treatment that came par the course with her lifestyle. It would not take much teasing from his hands to elicit all sorts of delicious moans from her, the original “hostility” gone from her voice and replaced by delicate, feminine moans that would have embarrassed her if she was more lucid. There was a slight begging tone to her voice, asking, coaxing, wanting so much more from him.

Her legs dropped from his waist as he continued his ministrations on her breast, and, secure on the table, her hand left the edge to play with the breast that wasn’t covered by his tongue. Snaking slender fingers across her flesh, she traced the edge of the scar exploding across her flesh, before circling the dark green areola. Lifting her fingers to her lips, her tongue snaked out against them, dampening them. With her wet fingers, she closed them on her freed nipple, pinching it, tugging it. She mimicked the motions of his mouth, her body arching beneath his.

The urge to say his name rose to her lips again, but she was stubborn.

Her hand left her breast now, slipped between their bodies. Stealthily, as if she felt he wouldn’t notice (which he more than likely would), her fingers dipped to that dark tangle of curls between her legs. Without much effort, she parted her swollen lips, feeling the thick fluid of her arousal cling to her fingers. She took in a shaking breath, running a finger lightly over the taunt flesh of her labia minora, shuddering as her finger slipped past it with ease.

His tongue slipped over her body, over her breasts, with such ease, that she also had to fight back a laugh. He was experienced, true enough. He sounded like he was enjoying himself, and had her mind been in the place to ask, she would have teased him, wanting to know if he was pleased. Actually…she would have asked him, withheld until she got the answer she wanted, and then, perhaps, gloated a bit. But like their ill-fated sparring before, she was at his mercy. This time, at least.
It didn’t mean that she wasn’t able to tease him, though. Her fingers completely coated with the thick warmth of her body, she trailed her fingers down his bared chest, tracing a circle about his stomach with a feather light touch. It said plenty of things without her having to open her mouth once. She wasn’t asking him at this moment; she was telling him.

Slipping from beneath him on the table, she knelt in front of him on the tattered remnants of her suit. The fabric was cool from the floor, but provided a certain degree of cushion for her knees. She had no knife, but she did have her hands. The pants he wore did not seem to pose any sort of direct challenge to get undone. It would not take long for her to find the tie for them, and with a twist of her hand, unlace them so that they pooled about his ankles. Another tug, and she had taken his undergarments with it.

Ah, there it was.

His phallus jutted out from his body. With a grin, for a while, she just looked at it, savoring it with her eyes. She made no move to stroke him with her hands. She scooted closer, playfully, pressing her breasts against the swell of his thighs. Parting her lips, she breathed softly on his cock, letting the heat caress him, setting the prelude for her tongue. Leaning forward, she closed her eyes, as if she was preparing for a deep kiss.

She was. In a sense.

Taking the head of his cock in her mouth, her tongue trailed wetly about the super slick flesh of his head. Closing her lips around him, she used them to massage the part of his shaft directly under his head, where she wasn’t directly stroking and working him with her tongue. For long moments, she worked his head, her tongue drawing intricate patterns across his head, darting occasionally lower to play across the shaft. Though her hands were planted on the ground, as she took more of his cock into her mouth, she moved forward again, her breasts now squashed against his legs. Her hands moved up the solid flesh of his thighs before moving to grasp his ass, pushing his cock further into her mouth.