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"Listen, you look great. Just stop fidgeting."
Csilla Tabor - bounty hunter, blaster-for-hire, and noted pyromaniac - did not, in fact, stop fidgeting. She was wearing a dress, and it felt weird.
She adjusted the neckline again, looking at her reflection in the hotel mirror. A familiar freckled face looked back at her, but she was definitely not used to seeing this much exposed skin. "Mako, there has got to be a better way to do this." The black dress was practically begging people to stab her in the heart.
Her partner in crime (but not dresses) had gone back to her datafeed. "Look, it's easy credits. We're already on Deko. Go to a fancy party, talk to a guy, leave the party with a guy, bring him back here, slap a pair of binders on him, and let the bounty keep rocketing up. We pass him along to the highest bidder, and then I go make up with Torian for ducking out of our Crevasse City vacation."
"Yeah. Easy credits." Deliberately not caring about Mako's boyfriend, Csilla sat down on the edge of the bed, and started putting on The Shoes. Anything with this many straps ought to have a diagnostic panel. And durasteel plating. Csilla desperately wanted more durasteel in her current outfit.
Mako looked up at her, tucking her long black bangs behind her ear. "You... have worn heels before, right?"
"I am not worried about the heels." Csilla lied.
"...You've never worn heels before."
"No! Why would I? I'm not fancy! You know this!"
Mako sighed. "Seriously, never?"
"I have literally never been to an event where power armor wasn't appropriate wear."
"You were invested with an Alderaanian title!"
"Yeah, I was knighted!" Csilla mimed dubbing with the other Shoe. "Power. Armor."
Burying her head in her hands, Mako groaned. "Grand Duchies are not knighthoods."
"Look, it's a made-up title anyway. They just gave it to me so they didn't have to pay us." She went back to fastening The Shoes.
"It's not - there's an estate - you know what, not important right now. So long as you can walk in heels."
Csilla finished with All Of The Straps, and stood up. Stamped her feet a few times to settle everything.
"It's not armor, Csilla. Just... take a few steps for me." Mako slid to the edge of her chair, even setting her datapad down, clearly ready to steady her.
Trusting her cybernetic gyros, Csilla took a bold step forward. And another. Spun in a circle, rocked back and forth between heels and toes, balanced on one foot -
"Okay, wow, teenage me kind of hates you right now."
"Top shelf hardware! " Csilla said, with an enormous grin. It had been worth every credit.
...Well, actually, it had been worth every credit when it had helped her not die a horrible vomitous lightsaber-y death in that zero-G fight with an ex-Jedi, but it was also helping now, so bonus value.
Mako took a last glance at her datapad and stood up. "Okay, crisis averted. So we're all good to earn some serious credits?"
"Yesss...?"
"Okay, what is it?"
Csilla sighed. "This is... absolutely not my kind of job."
Mako patted her arm. "I know, I know. But the credits are really good -"
"- Suspiciously good -"
"- No! I mean, kind of, but not really. Arbuckyl made a lot of enemies, and it kind of turned into a bidding war -" Mako shrugged. "And you've got natural advantages."
"Like not being a spy, doing a spy job?"
"...More like Arbuckyl having a thing for tall blondes." Mako appeared to be just fascinated by Csilla's Shoes.
"I'm pretty sure Lexa knows where to find high heels and a wig. And you'd still get a cut." Csilla very deliberately did not touch her hair, which had been mercilessly styled by a professional that afternoon. And her hair was snow-white, not blonde, but if Mako thought it counted as blonde, she'd take it.
"She's, uh, you know-" Mako waved a hand non-descriptively.
"Brilliant? An actual spy? An absolute wizard with a vibrodagger?" Csilla was actually a little jealous about that, but at least she learned a lot when they sparred.
"Um, I mean all of that is true, but not really what I -"
"Trained in seduction?"
"...You know, she's kind of like me..."
"A slicer? Not that she's really in your league -" That wasn't it. "Uh, combat medicine cert? A brunette...? ...I said brilliant, right?" Csilla was rapidly running out of ideas.
The hand motions were becoming more evocative, around chest-level.
Csilla finally got it. "...Petite?"
"Yes." Mako flopped onto the bed. "...Stupid men."
"Yeah, uh -" Csilla really needed to actually tell her partner this. Since all of her subtle hints hadn't worked. For the entire length of their partnership. And friendship. "- That's actually another problem."
Covering her face with her hands, Mako asked, with a tone of deep resignation and weary patience. "What is it, Csilla?"
"I've never actually, you know... seduced a guy."
Mako started to respond -
And all of Csilla's words came out in a rush. "Or dated one, or kissed one, or been attracted to one -"
"You made a pass at that security officer in Dromond Kass!"
"I wasn't serious! You were right next to me, laughing! The dumber I flirted, the harder you laughed!" Csilla had determined scientifically that Mako's laughter was literally priceless. The science was that it made Csilla feel much better than however many digits were in her credit stash.
Mako had given up on words, and was just groaning quietly, heels of her hands pressed into her eyes.
"So, uh..." Normally, Csilla would have filled an awkward pause by fidgeting with her armor's wrist-mounted read-out, but all she had was bare arm and freckles. "...I can transmit from my aural augs, and you can feed me lines over my com? Since the party starts in an hour."
[- This is actually just the Van der Leeuw city estate that they maintain for social events. Actual trusted guests are hosted on their private island, lat two-three-degrees two-six-minutes zero-nine-]
Csilla bent her ring finger to press against her palm, keying her subvocal comlink open. "Mako, I did listen to your first briefing." She hadn't bothered memorizing the coordinates, mind.
[Right, right, sorry. Arbuckyl is currently a guest at the city estate while they verified the data he offered for sanctuary. Legally, he cannot be removed from either estate until the Van der Leeuw's kick him out or a warrant is processed against him and co-signed by -] She was just really nervous.
Without bothering to interrupt Mako's data dump, Csilla dismounted from the gondola, tipped the droid gondoleer, and strode up to the estate's canal-side gate security. It was no military checkpoint - no heavy weapons on display, and only holstered blasters - but that was definitely a port for a retractable blaster cannon, and the eight guards had the arrogant posture of veterans. Their uniforms were ridiculous, though - gilded durasteel breastplates surrounded by particolored ribbons and ruffs - making them look like a flight of tropical birds. They even had winged helmets.
The guards gave her appraising looks - longer than they needed for a threat assessment - and Csilla bared her teeth back in an approximation of a smile.
A black-jacketed woman stepped forward, dipping in a precise bow, and asked, "Invitation?"
"Oh sure -" Csilla opened her purse - clutch, Mako had insisted - and dug out the little stained glass fish? bird? animal, probably. She handed it to the woman. "Pretty little thing." It had certainly cost enough on the Exchange market.
"Yes, ma'am. One moment please."
Mako was on task again. [She's cross-checking you - camera eight o'clock high - hitting my files - and we're good; nothing I hadn't predicted.]
"Thank you. If you will follow me...?"
Csilla passed under the gateway - feeling the ripple of a weapons-detector-field in her cybernetics. It didn't go off - because she actually was unarmed. Well, apart from her wet-durasteel skeletal reinforcements. It wasn't actually durasteel, but the ceramics fired in her bones had similar material properties, when the fist hit the face.
Feeling unarmored, unarmed, and generally naked - a sensation the shimmersilk of her dress only accentuated - Csilla fell in behind her guide as they passed through the high-walled garden, and up into the estate proper - as Mako re-explained the quaint Deko custom of inviting (vetted) strangers to add 'spice' and 'excitement' to otherwise droll social events.
Her enhanced hearing was picking up the quiet murmur of chamber music when Csilla asked the servant, "This is my first time; anything I need to know?"
She looked back and smiled politely. "Just be yourself; your manners will be foreign and therefore scandalous, but that is expected."
"Got it. No formal introductions?"
"Oh no, ma'am. This is a casual affair. Please mingle as you see fit. Would ma'am like to send anything to the cloakroom?"
Csilla waved her pur- clutch. "I've got it in hand, thanks." It was just her ident (fake), some credits (real), comlink (real, because it would look suspicious to not have one), and a pair of binders (real, but looked fake, or at least playful).
"Yes, ma'am." The servant stopped at the bottom of a short flight of broad steps. She gestured up to a grandly-wide-flung set of doors, light and laughter spilling out. "Please, enjoy yourself."
"You bet."
Csilla strode up into the ballroom without a pause, angling instinctively for her target.
[Okay, I've got you on visual; lighthouse on your four with a really nice telescope tied into the local university's astronomy network. Those appetizers do look delicious.]
Restraining herself from really loading up her plate - she did have a mission - Csilla subvocalized, "Right?" She finished a few bites - fairly mild, but double the sauce and they'd be getting somewhere - and took in the room.
Big, fancy - they really went all in on elaborate geometric detailing on this planet - and filled with people. Almost all human or near-human, though there were a few aquatics around. Arbuckyl should stand out - he was a big guy, tall and round, dark hair, stupid mustache -
[Got him. On the upper balcony outside, sky blue jacket, talking to a blonde woman. At least one bodyguard. He and the woman are awfully close - you'd better hurry.]
Snagging a glass of something blue that bubbled, Csilla made her way to the balcony immediately off the ballroom. There were enough people that she could've used her elbows, but she kept them tight, weaving her way through.
[Wrong level. I don't see exterior stairs up.] Mako's voice wasn't concerned, or judgmental, just coolly informative. [The floorplan has them inside, opposite the main entrance.]
Csilla made it to the railing, sipped her glass - the bubbles tickling her nose - and threw a casual glance up at the balcony above her.
Mako was right - they were close. Arbuckyl was fingering the blonde woman's hair - and he leaned in close to whisper in her ear.
[No eyes on his lips. Oh, she does not look happy, though.]
"Wig." Csilla murmured, as she returned to her snack, and the view over the bay.
[What? Oh. Yeah, I see now. Well, we knew he was a snob. He's headed inside. Picked up a second bodyguard, on patrol.]
A partygoer leaned on the railing next to her, a confident grin on his face. "Well, you're new around here."
Csilla gave him a flat look. "Yup."
[Wait, wait, test run. Say you just flew in from Alderaan.]
Inwardly rolling her eyes, Csilla added, "I just got in from Alderaan." They had, albeit on a fairly indirect route.
"Soaring on the wings of angels?"
Mako snorted, [Wow, that's pathetic.]
Figuring if Mako wasn't going to give her lines, she was at liberty, Csilla answered, "Hyperspace, actually."
His eyes flickered with annoyance. "So what do you do? Modeling?"
[I guess he gets by on looks.]
"Extreme sports."
He eyed her up and down, and accepted that. "I'm Jarn. Jarn Hoyendecker." He added, with such emphasis that Csilla knew he was a useless noble scion.
[Hoyendeckers control the majority of the planet's bluesalt exports, top three in the local pharmacology consortium, Exchange ties, Jarn's crashed three waveskimmers in the past year.]
She smiled at him. "So did you come over because you wanted to crash again?"
It was remarkable how quickly a person could change colors. He apparently decided it was beneath his noble dignity to respond, because he snapped upright and walked away without a word.
[Okay, well... just do the opposite of that with Arbuckyl and we should be good.]
Csilla turned her face to the lighthouse and grinned.
[That is not reassuring. Oh, he's down on your balcony - already has another bait in tow. She's real eager.]
Catching sight of Arbuckyl's bulk in her peripheral vision, Csilla tried to pin down his guards. The obvious one was the heavily muscled blue Twi'lek at Arbuckyl's back, in a billowy white shirt, with folded arms and a sour expression. The other one... auburn-haired young woman in a flowing white-and-gold dress, seemingly mingling but making an orbit around Arbuckyl.
His latest target was already snuggled up close, giggling as Arbuckyl made a joke about a Gundark and a Twi'lek dancing girl that Csilla hadn't actually heard before. The Twi'lek bodyguard clearly didn't approve, since his expression could've etched durasteel.
[No eyes on the hook. Might be genuine, maybe just trying to get him elsewhere to pounce.]
"He's a real treat for the eyes, huh?" The auburn-haired woman had gotten within chatter range.
Csilla played dumb. It was easy, since she wasn't sure who the woman was talking about. "Huh?"
"The big guy, with the -" she made a gesture indicating either long flowing hair or lekku. Since Arbuckyl's hair wasn't past his chin, Csilla assumed she meant the Twi'lek.
"Oh." She focused on the other bodyguard for a moment, because it would've been suspicious not to. "He just looks like he's having a bad time."
"Aww, you don't like the bad boy smoulder?" She pouted, then extended a hand. "I'm Kira."
Csilla took it. A very firm grip. "Ilona."
"Merc?" Just a trace of contempt.
"Sometimes. I'm here for the waves and cliffs, though."
"Rock climber. That explains the grip." Kira shook her hand with an exaggerated wince.
[Csilla. Be very careful.]
"It doesn't explain why you're at a party for the idle rich, though."
"I scored an invite. It'd be a shame not to take in the local culture."
"Well, let me know if you find any good cliffs or waves. Big, blue, and grumpy is all mine, though."
"Maybe get him a dessert before his face freezes like that."
Kira laughed, and continued her orbit.
[I don't have an ID on alleged Kira, but the Twi'lek is a Jedi. War hero, deflects blaster bolts with his pecs, all that nonsense. The Republic must want a piece of whatever data Arbuckyl scored real bad.]
Csilla triggered her com. "Sith." She'd felt the heat outside her mental blocks. Not aimed at her, exactly, but the intensity was unmistakable.
[Ridiculous - there's no... unless the Republic's propaganda about him converting the enemy is true - okay, so file that under plausible and even worse. Be very very careful.]
She wasn't sure how she was supposed to balance extreme caution with actually getting Arbuckyl out of the estate.
"MaDAM, excuse ME!"
Csilla looked up, as did everyone else on the balcony, as Arbuckyl extravagantly pushed the second busty blonde away from him.
"I do not beLIEVE your intentions toward Me are quite HONORABLE!" He made a show of patting down the pockets of his trousers and jacket. "Where is My wallet, maDAM?"
The woman did not want to made the center of attention. "I - I think there's just been a little misunderstanding, I just wanted -"
"To get close enough to Me to purLOIN my valuables!" Arbuckyl turned to his Twi'lek bodyguard. "Please, sirRAH, I believe she has stolen My wallet!"
In a basso rumble of somewhat strained control, the bodyguard took a step forward and asked, "Ma'am, would you kindly remove my client's wallet from your bodice?"
"But I don't -!" The woman put a hand to her cleavage, and started. Bright red, she removed a large wallet and handed it to the Twi'lek, then fled into the crowd.
"AbsoLUTELY DePLORable!" Taking his wallet back from the Twi'lek, Arbuckyl stuffed it into his jacket pocket, and sneered in the direction of the departed woman. With the show over, everyone re-mingled, and Csilla turned back out towards the bay.
[So he's not an idiot. Well, he's playing a loud, obnoxious idiot, but he can recognize when he's being hustled, and he clearly relishes making a Jedi jump.]
Csilla's opinion was that this job was looking less and less like easy credits. Her other opinion was that her plate and glass were empty, and that was much easier to address.
She spun on her heel -
[Csilla-!]
And Arbuckyl was Right. There.
He could apparently move very quietly for such a big man.
"Ah, I regret that you had to see that." His accent was much less affected one-on-one. "I am afraid that many mistake my kindly demeanor for weakness."
"No problem. I -" She panicked slightly. "- don't do weakness."
[Good save.]
His eyes flickered across her - taller than him in heels, lingering on her arms, her chest - "No, no, I don't think you do. I respect that." He offered his hand. "Roz Arbuckyl."
"Ilona." Csilla shook his hand, trying not to give too much away. His hand was soft, but there was a sinewy strength underneath.
"No family name?"
She blanked on what was written on her fake ident.
[Galaar.]
"Galaar."
Arbuckyl nodded, his blue eyes keen. "Mandalorian. A strong name. You shouldn't be ashamed of it."
"I'm not. I'm not yet worthy of it."
"Ah, a lady of principles! Well, at least you won't make off with my wallet!"
[Smile. Please smile.]
He dropped his eyes - intending more emotion than Csilla felt, given that he'd dropped his gaze directly on her chest - and opined, "You do not find the same humor."
Csilla shrugged. His eyes didn't so much as flicker upward. "More effort than she was worth."
"Oh, the Mandalorian efficiency! I do admire it." It wasn't what he was admiring, and her knuckles were starting to itch.
[Csilla, stay! Be good bait. Think about the credits.]
She was very much forcing herself to relax around Mako's words, and not the situation she was in.
"So what do you do? Besides speak Mando'a."
Arbuckyl looked up at her - finally! - with a sly smile on his face. "I am fluent in many tongues, but that's more of a result than a trade."
Csilla stepped into the conversational gambit, like good bait should. "So what do you trade in?"
"I am an... explorer, of sorts. Most often, I help connect people to the past, but on rare occasions, I am privileged to connect people to the future."
"You're an economist?"
He laughed. "Please, you wound me. Call me a pirate, a treasure hunter, an adventure seeker! Leave some romance in my poor punctured skin! I'd rather be a pick-pocket than an economist."
[At least he's got some standards.]
She tried to smile. She really did. But it was either a tooth-baring grimace or a twitch of the corner of her mouth, so she took the twitch.
"But you -! Surely, as a Mandalorian, you are used to the taste of adventure."
Csilla shrugged. "I've had a few. I'm here for the water and rocks."
"I always admire your people's bluntness. I don't suppose I could tempt you with a more personal adventure...?"
[He's eating you up. Reel him in. Slowly.]
Tilting her head, she made herself look her target up and down. Tall, shaped like a barrel with legs and arms - apparently capable of surprising dexterity, between sneaking up on her and planting his wallet in a woman's cleavage without her noticing. He - had a face, she supposed? The mustache was abhorrent, but neatly trimmed. The blue eyes, calculating and as flat as any Exchange boss.
"I... could be persuaded. What -"
[Incoming!]
Csilla registered the whine of straining repulsorlifts even as Mako shouted her warning and she started moving -
- an armored speedertruck shooting up from the cover of the waves and cliffs, repeating blaster cannon threatening -
- a blue blur tackling Arbuckyl to the floor of the balcony, all the guests around them being shoved away by a sourceless blastwave -
- even as she felt an invisible lasso seize her and yank her backwards -
- flying backwards through the air, without her jetpack, uncontrolled -
- re-orienting herself so she was flying feet-first towards the open door to the ballroom, past Kira charging outward -
- blaster cannon spinning up, firing - while she was still flying, helpless in her momentum -
- the snap-hiss of lightsabers igniting as Kira and the Twi'lek parted the oncoming storm of blasterfire -
[Second! Up!]
- Csilla yelled, "Kira! Above!" as she soared cleanly through the ballroom doorway -
- and a second storm of blaster bolts rained down from above.
Despite her best efforts, Csilla ploughed into a knot of party-goers and went down in a tangle of flailing, panicked, uncooperative limbs.
Apparently, someone had decided that the bounty for a dead Arbuckyl was good enough.
[Csilla!]
"Good!" She couldn't be bothered to subvocalize at this point. "Status!" Csilla struggled her way free with a minimum of personal injury. To her, at least.
[Tango One is still up, Tango Two got boarded by the Jedi, and is crashing into the bay.]
"Arbuckyl? Kira?" She was up and running for the balcony.
[No eyes. Possible Tangos Three and Four inbound, eleven low.]
Out in the open air again, fresh carbon scouring everywhere -
[Tango One circling deosil, four high.]
She had time. Csilla dismissed a few charred forms - not bulky enough for Arbuckyl, too badly damaged to be a Jedi - there!
Taking feeble cover from the railing was her bounty - cowering - and her opposite number, long-hilted lightsaber in hand but not activated.
[Seven high! Jedi finished with Two and bailed out.]
"Roz! Trust me!" Csilla locked eyes with him, and got a nod. It wasn't like he had many options. She grabbed his forearm and hoisted him to his feet, locking her arms up around him. "Kira, into the water, as far as you can!"
The Jedi - Sith? - gave her a dubious look.
"You can't protect us, and yourself, and kill them. Get us clear."
She also didn't have many options.
[Nine, attack run!]
"Now!"
Momentum won out, and Kira took a quarter-second pause, and swept her arm out -
- hitting Csilla and her bounty with a numbing impact that had them shooting out over the bay, on a nearly flat trajectory -
- the angle wasn't good. They were going to land nearly in the middle of the bay. Plenty of time for someone to fish them up or strafe them -
- unless -
- Csilla eyeballed the math, screamed internally about not having the correct augs for this situation, screamed internally about this situation being desperately unpredictable, eyeballed the math again, and reluctantly concluded that it was possible, but -
- she twisted around so she was underneath, swearing into the wind as Arbuckyl screamed in her grip -
- Csilla took a moment to engage the flashbang interlocks on her hearing, and enjoyed her last few blissfully silent moments -
- bracing -
[Csilla! I've got pick-up -]
- Oh, this was going to hurt -
- She couldn't scream because she'd blown out all of her air before impact but she really really wanted to -
[What-?!]
- And they were airborne again, all of her nerves screaming, but that meant the angle was good so she just had to hold -
- The second time didn't hurt as much -
- That was the lie she told herself right before impact but it really really did -
- She was comfortably numb at this point. Really she was, just floating on this silent plane, with her stupid bounty's stupid face right in front of her and she had to think of the credits and -
- Ow -
- Ow -
- Ow -
- Owwwwwwwww -
She was drifting. Drifting was good. She didn't normally drift. Her wet durasteel made her too dense to float. Ironically.
Mako was there, which was also good. Mako had open ports, though, so she really shouldn't be swimming.
Her mouth was moving, but she wasn't saying anything.
Mako's.
Csilla was pretty sure voluntary movement was beyond her.
And now Mako's mouth wasn't moving but Csilla still heard her.
[Csilla, can you switch your hearing back on?]
Oh.
Right.
She reverted her flashbang interlocks. On the third try.
"You are an idiot."
"No, I'm a waterfowl."
"...What?"
"I waterfowl waddled myself."
"I really hope the painkillers are working."
They weeeeeeeeeere.
"You made like a stone, and skipped yourself over 41.83 repeating per-cent of the Grand Bay of Deko. You have, at minimum, eight broken ribs. Twitch your toes for me."
She did, but - "I broke a heel."
"Yeah, the dress and the shoes are a total loss. Good thing you hated them."
"I diiiiiiid."
The painkillers were really worororororking.
But there was something important still -
"The - thing. Facefur. Prey."
"Arbuckyl ate four stun bolts and is medically sedated on top of that. He's jammed in the front seat of the ambulance that I hijacked, and we're currently headed to the spaceport, where we will flee happily into hyperspace before the Jedi realize what we're doing. But I really need to go work on that, and you need to stay here and not move for me like a good girl, okay?"
"Imma good girl?"
"You have earned us so many credits, you are the best girl. Stupid and smart and brave and did I mention stupid?"
"Dunno."
"Sleep, Csilla." Mako kissed her forehead.
...
Worth.
It.