Chapter Text
She stilled, the air expelling from her lungs in a breath so slow that it hardly moved her torso. The stock of the rifle was cool against her cheek, solid and familiar. The barrel guard fit into the curl of her gloved left hand as perfectly as ever.
The pad of her right index finger caressed the trigger.
The bright yellow of the bolt shuddered minutely as it exited the barrel and the shot sang out across the desert sands. Fennec Shand frowned at that tremor, even though her target still crumpled atop a dune several hundred meters away.
Pushing up from her stomach on the sand, she examined the rifle while on her knees before smoothly rising to her feet. She didn't even spare a glance at the gotra soldiers at the base of the dune as she strode past them and towards her speeder bike.
"Fetch the body," she instructed, securing her rifle to the bike and picking up her orange and black helmet. "Bring it to the Daimyo's audience chamber." She pulled her helmet on and climbed aboard the bike, then paused. "And check the inventory rooms for an MK rifle focusing lens and Tibanna gas power cell.”
The bike roared to life before either of the soldiers could react. Fennec kicked it into gear and sped off over the dunes, back towards the gotra palace, a spray of sand flying up in her wake.
—
Fennec sat on the top of the steps in the gotra audience chamber to the left of the Daimyo's throne, her gloves beside her and her rifle laying across her thighs. She held out her hand as the soldiers dumped the body of a Falleen male on the grates over the rancor pit.
A Togorian guard stepped forward to drop the requested lens and power cell into her waiting palm and then stepped back behind the body.
A few feet from her, sitting casually on the throne, Boba Fett regarded the exchange with a brow lifted behind his green and red Mandalorian helmet. The dark, T-shaped visor trained on Fennec for a moment and he watched as she began to disassemble the rifle on her lap with the expert ease of a master assassin.
Her slender and agile fingers moved with precision and familiarity over the parts of the gun; she set them aside in practiced order, for an effortless and quick reassembly. When the old lens was finally removed, she examined it closely, comparing it to the new one.
From his place on the throne, Boba could not see the miniscule difference between the parts. However, when the deceptively delicate lines of Fennec's mouth turned downward into a frown, he knew she had found something she didn't like.
Fennec tossed the spoiled lens at the Togorian soldier, who fumbled with it and ended up having to pick it up from the ground. Then she began to reassemble the rifle, replacing the original power cell as well.
Boba's lips pulled into a thin smile behind his visor. He appreciated the woman's knowledge of firearms and often enjoyed watching as her lithe fingers moved over the workings of a gun, her striking features set into a serious expression.
Turning his head to look down at the body on his throne room floor –a hole seared through the chest– Boba also took a moment to appreciate her skill with that fearsome weapon in particular.
Finally, he addressed the soldiers.
"Who was this?" he asked, the resonant tone of his voice filling the room as he gestured to the prone form.
The two soldiers glanced at one another. They both shifted their feet nervously and neither seemed eager to look up at Boba again.
Having finished reassembling her rifle, Fennec lifted her dark, shrewd eyes to the soldiers as she pulled her gloves on.
"Your Daimyo asked you a question," she stated flatly. Her alto voice was smoother than Boba's, but no less commanding of respect.
The Zabrak cleared his throat, leaning down to lift one of the body's arms, to show a patch on the shoulder of the jacket. It was in the shape of a shield, a black background with a jewel-green, six-pointed star. The bottom point was elongated, at least twice the length of the others. The black lines of a rifle scope's reticle were stitched into the center of the star.
A sigh lifted Boba's broad chest beneath the cuirass of his armor. "So, another Emerald Nova," Boba grumbled, leaning back on the stone throne.
Fennec rose from the top of the steps, the MK rifle swinging fluidly from one hand to the other as she sat on the arm of the throne, to Boba's right. "That makes eight now, in half as many months."
Boba’s helmet moved in a nod. “Yes,” he rumbled, canting his head to one side. “It seems that the last three bodies you sent back to their Tatooine base haven’t had the desired effect.”
Her fingers drummed on the barrel guard of her rifle as she regarded him coolly out of the corner of her eye. “So it would seem.”
The Emerald Novas were a crime cartel, similar to the Pyke Syndicate that Boba and Fennec –with the help of many others– had eradicated from Tatooine some months ago. With the Pykes gone, a vacuum had formed in the system’s narcotics spice trade, and several organizations had been nosing around to fill the void ever since.
In the passing months, most of the other contenders had been convinced of the folly in going against Boba Fett’s claim of control on Tatooine. The Emerald Novas were proving to be a stubborn bunch though, sending spies regularly to map out possible trade routes and to search for weaknesses in the new Daimyo’s defenses.
"It is time to consider other approaches to the problem," Boba stated.
With a nod, Fennec lifted a hand and gestured for the guards to move the body over to the trap door in the floor of the throne room. They did so with some hesitance, leaping back as soon as the corpse was resituated.
She leaned down to press a button on the front of the throne and the trap door swung open to dump the body down a chute into the chamber below, before closing again. A minute later the distinct sound of tearing flesh and crunching bones could be heard coming up from the grates in the floor as the young rancor below made quick work of the body.
Both guards gave noticeable shudders at the sounds and a dark chuckle escaped Boba’s helmet.
A smirk tugged up the corner of Fennec's lips and she looked down at the gotra leader. "Any ideas?"
"Not yet. We need to learn more about our enemy first."
—
The Mos Espa majordomo tapped his slender fingers together as he looked across a large desk at Boba and Fennec, with no small amount of trepidation.
The orange Twi’lek was Mos Espa’s acting Mayor until a new one was found. Mos Espa's former Mayor, the Ithorian called Mok Shaiz, had left the position empty rather…abruptly. Finding a suitable replacement that the people of Mos Espa approved of –not to mention meeting the approval of the crime lord standing before him— was proving more difficult than the majordomo had anticipated.
He didn’t appreciate all of the attention he was receiving.
“What can I do for you, Lord Fett?” he asked with a brief bow of his head.
The seal of Boba’s helmet gave a hiss as he lifted it, and then held it against his side, to meet the Twi’lek’s brown eyes directly with his own. Behind him, Fennec followed his example and removed her helmet as well, her thick, dark-brown braid falling over her shoulder.
“I need information, Majordomo,” Boba said, his steady gaze holding the politician’s captive. “I need to know everything there is to know about the Emerald Nova’s leader. And how to get close to him…or her.”
The Twi’lek tutted softly, steepling his hands together and pressing his index fingers to his lips. "Ah! Yes. The most enthusiastic of the would-be usurpers to the Pyke's spice trade." When Boba nodded, the majordomo spread his hands out to either side, palms facing skyward. "Why come to me?"
As Boba leveled an unamused look the acting Mayor's way, Fennec lifted one immaculate eyebrow at him from over Boba's shoulder.
A self-deprecating laugh slipped out of the Twi'lek and he patted the air between them. "Oh. Yes, yes. Certainly, you would come to me. No one on Tatooine keeps better track of the…noteworthy visitors that grace our dunes than I do." He inclined his head to both of the imposing figures opposite him. "Your acknowledgement of my skills is most appreciated."
"Get on with it," Boba and Fennec said, almost in unison.
"Of course," he responded, with a smile meant to be disarming, though the faint twitch of the lekku over his shoulders betrayed his continued nervousness.
As the majordomo picked up a datapad from his desk and began typing away on it with one hand, Fennec took a step closer to Boba, keeping her voice soft. "Why did we let him stick around, again?"
Boba glanced back at her over his shoulder pauldron, a slight smile pulling at his mouth. "Because someone needs to run the town while I run the gotra. The only other option was you."
Her dark gaze held his for a breath, until she noted the sparkle of amusement in his eyes. She smirked and rolled her eyes with a snort.
There were few people in the galaxy that could get away with teasing the deadly woman, and Boba topped that short list. Not only because he had saved her life and because of all they had been through together over the last year, but also because she respected him more than anyone she'd ever been remotely close to. The fact that he was possibly even more deadly than she was helped, too.
Fennec could appreciate that, and the occasional, unexpected humor that came with it. In fact, she rather liked it.
Not that she would admit to it.
Stepping back, she plastered her signature, impassive look back onto her face and studied each of the three guards placed around the large office.
After a couple of quiet minutes, the acting Mayor looked up from his datapad at them with an apprehensive smile.
"Well… it seems that there is not a great deal known about the leader of the Emerald Novas, aside from the basics. He leads a fairly private life." He glanced back down at the datapad. "Male Chiss named…" His brow furrowed as he tried to pronounce the name, "...Bast'caz'erti. Ah! Core name is Tcazer. Thirty-four years old. From a minor influential Chiss family; although he seems to be the black sheep and doesn't keep up contact anymore. Disowned actually." His lips pursed as he perused the rest of whatever file he had found.
"His clandestine dealings seem to have been quite successful in other systems, given the little bit of his finances I was able to gain access to. Also, he's reported to have homes on a few planets. Though exactly what he deals in is up to much speculation. There are rumors of not only narcotics, but also general smuggling, mercenary work, assassinations, slave trade. Really almost anything you could imagine!" The Twi'lek almost smiled, sounding impressed, but he caught himself at the last moment and turned a serious expression towards his uninvited guests.
There was a slight curl to Boba’s lip in distaste, his eyebrows knitting together. “Where can I find this Tcazer?”
The majordomo poked at his datapad again, lips parting to speak and then closing several times. He gave a dramatic sigh and looked back up at the Daimyo, his brows peaked. “That…will not be easy. He keeps a large retinue of highly trained guards near-by at all times and does not have any known schedule that he keeps to, as far as I can tell.”
Fennec huffed a frustrated sigh and speared the orange skinned alien with a glare. “There must be something.”
He sputtered a bit in response, then paused when his datapad chimed at him, drawing his attention again. After a few moments of reading, he slowly smiled. “Oh, this might be something…”
Fennec and Boba glanced at one another with unconvinced expressions and then focused on the acting Mayor again.
The Twi’lek turned a grin their way. “Yes, yes. I ran a program through his financial history for any patterns,” he said, then patted the empty air. “Now, I wasn’t able to gain full access before the program was kicked out, but it did turn up something that might be useful.” He picked up the datapad and turned it to face them. “It looks like every year, for the past four years, Tcazer has been a guest for this.”
The datapad’s screen displayed an ad. The majority of it was taken up with an image of a luxurious Galactic Star Cruiser. Words scrolled across the screen in bright Galactic Basic lettering.
"For those with the most discerning of tastes, in search of the most discreet and attentive atmosphere, come join us aboard The Daydreamer's Delight! A week-long cruise from the shores of Naboo to the skyscrapers of Corellia. Be who you long to be with whomever you long to be with! Put your world and your responsibilities behind you. Leave the decisions…to someone else. Let them Lead."
A frown touched upon Boba's stern features and he glanced over at Fennec as she stepped up beside him again to read the screen. She was looking at the ad incredulously, too.
The Daimyo turned that frown in the majordomo's direction. "What does that all mean?"
The politician shrugged. "I'm not sure. Some typical luxury, pleasure cruise for the wealthy elite, it seems. But…" He held up a finger to accentuate his words. "...it is the only pattern I've found. Tcazer is very likely to be there." He turned the screen back to himself. "And it looks like every guest is only allowed a single additional party to board with them. The cruise provides security… and it's all part of the cruise sponsor's guarantee of discretion." He shrugged again.
Boba was quiet for a few heartbeats then, considering. His head canted at the Twi'lek. "When is it?"
There was a pause as he checked. "The Daydreamer's Delight will depart Naboo in five weeks from tomorrow."
Boba looked over at Fennec. "Want to go on a cruise?"
—
Planning for the mission progressed quickly over the coming weeks.
The end goal was to somehow convince the leader of the Emerald Novas that Tatooine was not worth the trouble. As neither of them were expecting that to work, they would probably end up having to take the cartel leader out. Of course, they had to get close enough to do either.
They realized early on that they could not attend the cruise as members of the Fett Gotra. Tcazer might guess their plans and disappear if he heard Boba's name. So, aliases were needed.
—
"Why isn't he pretending to be the rich schmoozer?" Drash asked one afternoon, pointing to Boba as he sat on the gotra throne, about a week after the meeting with the majordomo.
She was talking to Fennec, who had been explaining some of the details of their plan, while begrudgingly looking over clothing that had been brought in for her role in the mission.
"Because no one would believe it, given my…similarities to the Empire's clone troopers," Boba spoke up, an edge of annoyance in his deep voice.
"Ohhh," the teenage Mod-gang leader said with a little nod, twirling a small throwing knife between her fingers.
Fennec sighed and waved a dismissive hand at the droid that had brought in the pile of high-end clothing. "Fine…pack it all." She crossed her arms and looked between Boba and Drash. "Believe me, I wish he could. But he's right. No one would believe it. On the other hand, an heiress …" –the title dripped from her lips with disdain as she rolled her eyes– "...that keeps a former clone trooper as a bodyguard, is more believable."
From his seat, Boba smirked. "Are you not up to the challenge, Master Assassin?"
The look Fennec gave him could have frozen the lava flows of Mustafar.
He just grinned at her in response.
—
"So, was the hacker droid worth the cost?" Boba asked as he strode into the gotra's dining hall.
He stopped beside the long dining table, which always seemed to be stocked with food, and set his helmet on it. Withdrawing a knife from the sheath on his hip, he skewered a geldan sun-apple and took a crunching bite out of it as he looked at Fennec.
She was lounging in a chair at one end of the hall with her booted feet crossed at the ankles and up on the corner of the table. A stick of spiced meat was held in one gloved hand while a small datapad was held in the other. Tearing off a bite of the meat, she chewed it slowly as she kept reading the screen.
Finally she turned her head to look at Boba and nodded as she swallowed. "Worth every credit, from the looks of it."
Leaning forward, she tossed the datapad over the table at him.
He caught it in his off hand, spinning the device so the screen faced him as he continued to eat his piece of fruit.
On the screen was a spinning image of Fennec from the shoulders up. However, the name beside the face was Sharlan Tuvoll and none of the history details matched up to the real woman.
Boba glanced up at her and she made a swiping motion with her finger.
He swiped across the datapad screen and a spinning image of his own face appeared. His brows arched upward.
"Have I really aged so much?" he grunted at the image.
Fennec chuckled around another bite of food. "Well… the bacta tank has helped. Now you're more like Corellian wine. When we met it was like…blue milk."
He cast her a disparaging look and she flashed him a stunning smile.
After a moment he chuckled, with a shake of his head, turning his eyes back to the image. "Trooper 548-722. Also known as…Troop? Not very imaginative."
Fennec shrugged, giving him a sly look out of the corner of her eye. "You look like a very serious, unimaginative-type of retired clone trooper."
His scowl returned at her and she just kept that faint upward curve on her lips, unperturbed and amused.
"Fine," he conceded, dropping the datapad onto the tabletop. "As long as our covers are thorough and get us aboard, I don't care."
She nodded once, attention shifting to the stick in her hand to find her next bite of meat. "The majordomo even had trouble finding any holes in them. Little droid knows what he's doing."
—
They were leaving in three days for Naboo and almost everything was in order.
Cruise appropriate clothing and jewelry had been purchased and packed for the 'Heiress', with much input from the too-friendly majordomo. Fennec's weapons and battle gear were going to be smuggled aboard inside an R4 unit that was retrofitted for the task. Boba, as a bodyguard, would be allowed to wear his armor aboard with a few weapons. However, just before they left, the armor would be fitted with additional false panels and repainted in dark gray, to hide its recognizable Mandalorian design. His helmet would be smuggled in with Fennec's gear.
False ident chips that could fool almost any governmental check-point had been purchased at a steep price and tickets for the cruise were secured. The background checks had not raised any red flags, thankfully.
The black-haired Wookiee, known as Black Krrysantan, would be flying Boba's firespray gunship. He would keep it within a discreet distance of the cruise ship during the entire trip, in case his bosses needed a quick escape for any reason.
The only matter of business left to plan was confirming who would be watching over the gotra on Tatooine during their absence.
—
"Seriously?"
The modulated voice of Din Djarin, the Mandalorian, came out of his shiny beskar helmet with undeniable skepticism.
Boba chuckled, stepping down from the throne's dais with his arms stretched out in welcome. "Yes, Brother," he said, giving a firm clap to the other man's armored shoulder. "I wouldn't ask you to come all this way as a joke."
Djarin regarded Boba with a slight cant of his head, glanced over at Fennec who was perched on the arm of the throne as usual, and then looked back to Boba.
"Why would you want me to watch over your gotra?" he asked. "I could just track down your target."
Another chuckle rumbled up from Boba. "I'm afraid not. Getting close to him is going to be difficult and require more discretion than…" -he paused, gesturing to Djarin's ever-present helmet– "...you are likely comfortable with."
Djarin seemed to consider that and shrugged in silent concession.
"Besides," Boba continued, with another thwack of a meaty hand to an armored shoulder, before he moved back up the steps of the dais, "you are a man of your word and I have no doubt you will hand back what is mine once I return." He picked up his helmet from the throne and retook his seat facing Djarin.
This time Djarin nodded in acknowledgment of the vote of confidence, though his shoulders were still tense.
Fennec noted that he hadn't agreed yet; so she spoke up, pointing at Djarin's right hip, where the hilt of the Dark Saber hung behind his blaster pistol. "We also thought you might like a…test run, so to speak, at ruling," she said, referring to his possible claim on the throne of Mandalore. "After all, if you don't like being in charge of a gotra…" She let the words and their implications hang in the still, dry air.
Again, Djarin was quiet as he considered. Finally, he gave another single nod. "Alright. I will watch over your gotra for you."
"Excellent!" Boba said, sharing a smile with Fennec.
The sling bag held at the Mandalorian's other hip moved slightly then, and a small green face with big, brown eyes and bat-wing-like ears poked up out of the bag. The foundling, Grogu, gave a wide, toothy yawn and then made a small cooing sound as he looked back and forth between Fennec and Boba for a moment, and then up at Djarin.
Djarin reached a gloved hand down to pat the kid's head.
Fennec gestured to the little one. "Also, I don't think he'd fit in on the cruise anyway," she said with a smirk.
A faint, chuffing laugh came out of the gleaming helmet.
"You might be right."
—
Fennec shifted in discomfort, feeling odd without her gear. She stared at her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling length mirror of the Theed hotel room. She turned one way and then the other, her lips pressed into a thin, disgruntled line.
It wasn't that she looked bad. If she were perfectly honest with herself, it all looked good.
The sleek dress' material shimmered, shifting between black and a deep metallic. It clung to her athletic frame, and accentuated curves that were usually well hidden, before cascading down to the floor. Long slits up either side showed off shapely legs that ended with delicate feet wrapped in strappy heeled shoes. The sleeveless dress' plunging neckline halted near the base of her sternum, a couple inches above the cybernetic workings that made up much of her upper midsection. The back of the dress dipped even lower, showing off delicate shoulder blades and the elegant line of her back.
A thin, gold chain necklace hung around her neck with a small, ruby pendant resting between her breasts. Matching earrings with tiny stones hung from her ears. The jewelry accented the red and gold thread weaved into her braid.
Yes. In all honesty, she knew she looked really kriffing good.
But none of it offered any protection in any way. She felt more exposed than she had in a long time, and not just literally. Sure, she had a couple of knives hidden on her person but still, those didn’t protect vital organs.
She heaved a sigh, mouth twisting to the side in annoyed resignation.
It was only for a week, at worst, she reminded herself. With mostly a bunch of soft-handed types who probably didn't know the business end of a blaster from their own assholes.
She could handle this for a week.
And she knew Boba would have her back the entire time. Not that she enjoyed depending on anyone, but if there was one person in the galaxy that she could depend on, it was him.
Then, for a moment, she looked at her reflection and wondered what he would think when he saw her like this.
That thought had her blinking in surprise at herself and arching a brow. Where had that come from?
Huffing another sigh and shaking her head, she gathered up her gear from the hotel bed and put it into the R4 droid that was waiting by the door. After making sure the droid's inner container was securely closed, followed by replacing a panel of false wires and pistons, she closed the droid's outer shell.
Then she opened the door for the beeping R4 and followed its rolling trek out of the hotel and to the starport across the street, where Boba would be waiting with their luggage and the other gathering passengers.
—
Boba stood beside the pile of luggage, arms crossed over the cuirass of his painted and disguised armor.
A carbine blaster hung at his right hip and a vibro knife was on his left. That was all the cruise was allowing him to take aboard as the 'heiress' bodyguard'. Sure, he already had a few things hidden in the body of the modified R4 unit that was with Fennec, but it still felt odd, not being covered in more weapons.
His weight shifted slightly on booted feet as he looked around at the other passengers that were gathering, with as much discretion as he could.
He’d already noticed a few male Chiss, so narrowing down who Tcazer was just by his species wasn’t possible.
It was an odd mixture, he noted, of the wealthy and… well, not wealthy. Many humans and quite a mix of other species.
There were business men and women, some possible royalty or at least social elites, a few celebrities, and others he couldn't quite guess. They were all finely dressed and impeccable.
But they weren't mingling much with each other like he would have expected. Each one was with someone who looked to be of lesser social standing.
A business woman was leaning into the embrace of a New Republic pilot. A blue-blood had his hands clasped behind his back as he spoke with the petite Twi'lek woman that circled him with a smirk, dressed in a flimsy dress of the type worn by dancers. Another elite-looking alien woman, a celebrity he vaguely recognized, was hanging on a taller human woman, dressed like a company security guard. There were more whose professions he couldn't quite pinpoint: soldiers of various types, a chef perhaps, a maid?
He wouldn't have thought much of the mingling, if not for his previous dealings with elites, who usually stuck to other elites.
Then a well dressed woman approached Boba. He couldn't remember what her species was called. Hadn't encountered them often. She was beautiful though, with soft teal skin and long, black hair highlighted with blues. Small, triangular tattoos dotted her delicate cheekbones.
She circled him, a smirk pulling at her full lips, and he quirked an eyebrow at her in return.
"So," she said, her voice almost a purr as she glanced around, "who's lucky enough to belong to you?"
That made both of his brows go up for a brief moment. "What?"
Her pale eyes –green, he noted– turned back to him and she tilted her head with a coy smile. "I'm just curious. Who is lucky enough to have landed a clone soldier as a Lead? You are all so rare now, and I've always wondered how…yielding to one of you might go. There is something about a man in uniform. They know how to take… and give …orders." She said that with a low, suggestive dip in her voice.
Boba managed to keep his expression neutral but he did glance around at the crowd again. It was starting to thin as passengers began boarding. But now he noticed the way the elites were deferring to their… less-elite companions: trailing behind them, rather than the other way around; hanging on their every word; even seeming to follow orders.
What kind of cruise is this?
He turned his attention back to the teal skinned woman and canted his head slightly to one side. “Why ask?” he deflected. “You don’t have your own…Lead?”
She smirked and nodded, her eyes darting off to the side.
Boba followed the look with a slow turn of his head, to find a tall brunette woman watching their interaction, standing a short ways away with her arms crossed over her chest. She was dressed much more simply than the woman in front of him, in coveralls that suggested some kind of manual work. Perhaps a mechanic of some sort.
His eyes went back to the alien woman again and he found her smiling up at him, a faint warmth now showing in her cheeks. “She saw I was curious about you. Told me to come over and ask.”
A brow arched again and Boba let a smirk touch his mouth. “You don’t seem the type to do as you’re told,” he observed.
A faint scowl crossed her delicate features and a soft scoff escaped her. “Oh, I’m a good pet,” she said with an air of pride. Then she smirked again. “Being confrontational can be fun, I’ll admit, but I prefer to be good.” Her full lips parted again but then she stopped when a snapping sound caught her attention to the side.
Boba looked over to see the tall brunette crooking a finger at the teal skinned beauty. The alien flashed him a smile and a wink. “If your pet doesn’t show up… or you get bored of them on the trip, come find us…” she said before sauntering away and over to the other woman.
Boba blinked a few times, watching them, before turning his head slowly to look over a few of the other couples again.
“Kriffing majordomo,” he grumbled to himself. “‘Typical pleasure cruise’ my ass…”
He let a slow breath pass his lips as he shifted his stance towards the entrance to the docks, watching for Fennec again.
This was going to be an awkward conversation.
A couple of minutes later, the little R4 droid finally came around the corner into view with Fennec following it.
And for a moment, all thoughts of the odd situation flew from Boba’s head.
“Dank farrik…” he mumbled. He hadn’t realized how well the armor she always wore hid the figure beneath it. The dress, on the other hand, hid very little of it.
She had almost reached him before he realized he was still staring, well below her eye level. When his eyes lifted to hers, he found her raising a single, well-shaped eyebrow at him.
“See something interesting, ‘Troop’?” she asked with a barely contained smirk, and an unperturbed air that was a little too forced.
Boba cleared his throat softly and then just gave her a half smile and a shrug. “Pleasantly surprised is all.”
Fennec seemed a little surprised at the bluntly honest answer. If he didn’t know her better, he’d almost think she blushed at the near-compliment.
With his brain finally working again, Boba glanced around and then back at her, pressing his lips into a stern line. He stepped a little closer and lowered his voice.
“There is an… issue…”
That well shaped brow lifted above Fennec’s eye again after she took a moment to glance around. “Oh?”
“This doesn’t seem to be a ‘typical’ pleasure cruise after all, like the Twi’lek thought,” he started slowly, trying to figure out exactly how to express what he had learned. “It seems to be a…” His mouth twisted up a little. “...well, ‘pleasure’ seems to be the main focus. I’m getting the impression the elites use this cruise to…relinquish control? I think that’s what the ad meant. I was asked who ‘belonged’ to me. And the woman referred to me as a 'Lead' and herself as a 'Pet'.”
Both of Fennec’s brows arched upward slowly the further he went with his explanation. And as he talked, she watched the couples that were filtering into the docks still to board the cruise ship. She saw what he meant. The ones that looked wealthy were deferring to their partners.
It’s not what she was expecting.
“So,” she said slowly, “if we continue with this plan to find Tcazer, it means we would have to pretend to be…” She paused, searching for the right words. She decided on bluntness. It usually served her best. “...sexual partners. Troop as the Lead, and Heiress Sharlan Tuvoll as his… Pet?”
Boba’s head moved in a single nod after a moment passed.
Fennec considered the dynamic shift for a moment. Other than pretending to be sexually involved, it wouldn’t be much different than their normal interactions. After all, he was her boss and the head of the gotra, the Daimyo. She had just been expecting to play the boss role for the next few days. Now it didn’t look like that was going to be the case if they wanted to fit in on this…unique cruise.
After a few seconds, she shrugged her bare shoulders slightly and looked up at him again. “Alright. I can pretend to be…obedient," she said, though she couldn't keep from rolling her eyes a little at the word.
A faint chuckle escaped the man, and he rubbed a gloved hand over his smooth head as he shook it slightly. "Not a word I think is usually associated with you."
She smirked up at him, and gave an exaggerated flutter of her lashes. "But I'm not me right now, am I?"
He paused, staring down at her for a moment before snorting with another barely contained laugh. "Hope we find the bastard fast…" he mumbled, and then grinned at the sneer she tossed his way. Looking at the ramp up into the ship, Boba's broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Guess we better board and get on with it."
"Yes, Sir," she crooned, far too smugly, as she picked up a bag and headed towards the ramp.
Boba rubbed a hand down his face with a soft groan.
Oh, this was going to go well…