Built on sand

[Amea Virou]

[member="Loske Matson"]

“I don’t trust her.” Amea said and looked over her shoulder towards the exit from the garage. “She saw exactly what I was doing. Not a lot of people can do what I can do, and this cover is… Very valuable.”

Her brows furrowed with worry as she turned back around again. Part of Amea wanted to play it safe, but that was a nasty threshold to cross. Causing the death of someone else was something she had taken great pride in avoiding. But this competitor knew that Amea was both capable of manipulating droids in the force as well as that she created Frank, depending on from what point she began to eavesdrop. That was a solid bridge back to Kaili Talith that Amea in all honesty could live without.

Her lips twisted into a frown.

“I’ll take a look at ‘Blue’ later, sure.” Amea said and tried to drop the sour mood. “Just, you know, might not be able to fix the whole thing. Give me a specific part and I could fix that right up for you.”

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Loske hadn't quite gripped the severity of the situation until [member="Amea Virou"]'s face darkened and explained the value of her identity. She supposed that if someone were devout enough, the links could be traced. If Kaili Talith were truly to stay where Amea had left her, there probably couldn't be loose ends.

"Sounds like there are a few things you can do about it, as I see it."

Instead of looking like the two were just talking and glaring, Loske swung her leg around the swoop bike and situated herself atop the thing to get a feel for the modifications. It was placebo to just feel the differences, she'd have to turn it on and actually drive it to notice any improvements, but it felt smoother.

"One - I can enter the race as planned and you can disappear to take care of any business that needs to be taken care of.." she made a face. Loske was in a similar boat. She'd never killed anybody with her bare hands before. She'd killed, yes, but from the confines of the cockpit where the faces and history of the individual were masked behind another vehicle they were operating.

"Two - You can enter the race on my behalf and...I can talk to her or figure something out."

With a flick of her wrist and a pop shove to the ignition, the bike roared to life, partially to drown out the sound of the third option.

"Three - We...find someone to...help us tie up loose ends?" She made an uncomfortable face.

Frank let out a concerned hoot.

 

[Amea Virou]

[member="Loske Matson"]

“No.” Amea said with a frustrated sigh. “I don’t want to stoop so low as to murder people for my own mistakes.”

Amea then felt her lips twist into a grimace. She didn’t want to admit it, but in the end murder could be just as damaging to the cover as not acting would be. Some part of Amea knew that, no matter how hard the newfound and more pragmatic part of her tried to argue against it. Should the pink Rodian speak to a friend about it and then end up dead, well, that would certainly be bad too.

Amea dragged her hand through her hair.

“We do nothing.” She said and shook her head in disbelief at what she was saying. “What is her name? If rumors start going out about who I am, I know which leak to plug, so to say.”

Now that was a deal she was more comfortable with. Proactive solutions were not always as efficient as the reactive once. Depended on the situation.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Visible relief crossed the pilot's features, and she emphasized this with an exhale. What had she been thinking?! At least by suggesting those ridiculous options out loud, they'd aired out the reality and ended up on the same virtuous page.

"Phre Thartohnt." Loske responded, rolling her grip forward and engaging the thrusters to level up their purring to a distinctive roar. "Ooh, listen to that." She commented gleefully, and leaned back in the seat before swinging her legs off and dismounting, leaving the bike running.

"You should hop on, get a feel for how great it is. Could even take it for a test run -- the track is open for if someone wants to do trial scoots."

She cast a wary glance backward over her shoulder, but the rose haired rodian had gone back to her duties pandering to her bike in solitude. Not really glancing over at the brunette and the blonde any more. "Also, she knows me as Blue Sato..if that comes up." She shrugged. "It's my racing alias. Homage to my dad's."

 

[Amea Virou]

[member="Loske Matson"]

Phre Thartohnt. Amea put it to memory.

The knot remained right there inside of her gut but she ignored it. The decision not to degrade herself to the level of murderers and thieves eased her mind a little, but not by a lot. Having been the partner of someone who once was an agent for the SIS it was hard not to let the lessons imparted upon her define her approach to this. But that was also where Amea was wrong in the end. She wasn’t SIS, she had no-one at her back. All of her actions were made by her and not someone else. If something went wrong, it was all on her. No government to clear that particular brand of the truth up for her.

As Loske revved the engine she smiled at the excitement, and as she was offered to sit on the thing Amea reached out to touch against the pendant that was placed firm around her neck. She withdrew the small figure to give it a squeeze before it dropped against her chest again.

“I’d like that.” Amea said and patted against the chassis of the bike. “Maybe it’ll help get my mind off of…” She paused for a second, hesitant to make explicit mention of their earlier conversation. “That other thing.”

“So wait, who exactly was your dad, again?” Amea asked. “If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

In the end, Amea had never done a deep dive into the secrets and past of Loske Matson.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"Then let's do it!" Loske encouraged, giving another showman step backward to give obvious distance between herself and the bike, so @Amea didn't feel like the kiffar clone was a hovering director that would juke the bike back at any moment. It was also a very obvious physical agreement that they would no longer reference that other thing where they'd both temporarily slipped into a very desperate mentality. But at least Amea would know Loske would support her. That's what friends are for.

It was only recently that Loske was more open about her family tree...but only to one other individual. That being said, on really gloomy and rainy days just a year or two ago, Loske's little Micah crush had lead her to imagine that she and Kaili Talith may even be sisters-in-law one day, so shen she would have seriously known her family and visa versa.

"Marcello Matteo, he did a race on Ahto City once under the last name Saito."

She bit her lip after that, feeling rather raw and exposed. It wasn't a big secret in the grand scheme of things, but she supposed it was similar to Amea wanting to separate her brunette and blonde lives. Loske had the benefit of not having known her family, so she didn't have as many connections to shake. She just had connections she wanted to make.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"Then let's do it!" Loske encouraged, giving another showman step backward to give obvious distance between herself and the bike, so [member="Amea Virou"] didn't feel like the kiffar clone was a hovering director that would juke the bike back at any moment. It was also a very obvious physical agreement that they would no longer reference that other thing where they'd both temporarily slipped into a very desperate mentality. But at least Amea would know Loske would support her. That's what friends are for.

It was only recently that Loske was more open about her family tree...but only to one other individual. That being said, on really gloomy and rainy days just a year or two ago, Loske's little Micah crush had lead her to imagine that she and Kaili Talith may even be sisters-in-law one day, so shen she would have seriously known her family and visa versa.

"Marcello Matteo, he did a race on Ahto City once under the last name Saito."

She bit her lip after that, feeling rather raw and exposed. It wasn't a big secret in the grand scheme of things, but she supposed it was similar to Amea wanting to separate her brunette and blonde lives. Loske had the benefit of not having known her family, so she didn't have as many connections to shake. She just had connections she wanted to make.

 

[Amea Virou]

[member="Loske Matson"]

Amea nodded her head. Marcello Matteo. Now that on the other hand was a name that Amea was familiar with. Having been raised by that generation of Jedi made it a bit of a certainty. The other connections weren’t exactly hard to draw up either from that. If Marcello was her father then, well, a former Grandmaster did come to mind. Amea wouldn’t say it though. Family was a bit of a foreign concept to her at this point. She treasured her brother more than anything, but ultimately his situation left her feeling more than just a little helpless. And if there was one thing she didn’t like it was feeling helpless.

Instead Amea climbed up on the bike and gave it a gentle rev.

“I think the changes seem to be working just fine.” She said and brought it forward. “Where is the track?”

 

[Loske Treicolt]

The blonde kiffar clone was positively beaming. She'd honestly thought she'd be a little bit jealous at seeing someone else clamber about her toy, but the evidenced relief and amount of distraction the vessel was providing was amiable. And Loske was all too altruistic to be petty about sharing material objects.

"The opening gate is at the end of the garage. Here," without further explanation she turned on her heels and broke into a light jog - enough that [member="Amea Virou"] could engage the thrusters and at lease project herself forward and not have to walk the bike.

A handful of jaunts later, the long warehouse-like architecture turned into what was more akin to a stall. The ceilings were tall and vaulted, with a heavy door preventing any of the Tattooine sun from shining in. Light crept along the outline, threatening to dig its fingers between the metal and cement and pry the door down.

In the middle of the door, at the very top, were three lights that would indicate the speed one should take. Above that was a countdown clock.

Loske lead Amea to situate in the middle projection, and then crossed to a nearby elevated datapad and control centre for the stall. "The other test run is just finishing up. You have thirty five seconds before you can use the track.

When the light above turns yellow, the gate will draw upwards. It'll be just over halfway up when it turns green. Don't false start or you'll incur a flag straightaway and be disqualified, no matter how the rest of your run goes."

 

[Amea Virou]

[member="Loske Matson"]

Well that seemed simple enough. Amea followed along with the rules and the guidelines. With the helmet held firm in her hands she considered just exactly how hard she could go. If she had complained about a person taking notice of what she had done in the garage, then going all too fast for this warm up would certainly be… Contradictory. Yet at the same time that was exactly what Amea wanted. The idea to let loose, especially on a bike that she had complete and utter control over was hard not to find all too appealing.

Amea took a deep breath before she put the helmet on. Not that she counted on it helping in the case of a crash, but rather because it did a more effective job at concealing who she was than not wearing it would. Standing at the start point she revved the engine again.

“Oh I know, sweetheart. I am not your master.” Yet. “But I hope you treat me with the same respect nonetheless, just as I will be doing the same.”

With a careful pat against the chassis she grabbed onto the vehicle controls. Her heart began to pick up in pace as the anticipation for the rush began to kick in. The light changed to yellow. The gate began to open and Amea dug into the force to enhance her reflexes. Was that fair? No. Did she care? Double no. She wasn’t the one who would be racing the bike later anyway.

As the light turned green the bike set off into a near instantaneous blur. The time to utilize the years of instinctive astrogation had finally come, and Amea would for the shortest of moments fall right back into Kaili once more. There was a glee behind that cocky grin on her lips as she weaved between the obstacles on the course with an almost practiced precision. Unnerving some would say, but they could suck it for all she cared.

Yeah, no, being this careless had been the right decision. The rush of adrenaline surging through her body in that moment was very hard to compare to anything else. As the bike came to a complete stop she felt her head spin along with the accumulating dust cloud left in her wake that would begin to catch up.

She waited for word from Loske. Amea just needed to catch her breath for a second.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Wow! She didn't restrain the gleeful clap that manifested when [member="Amea Virou"] belched from the restraints of the pit and ventured onto the sweeping racetrack. there was a joy that came with racing, with speed. Some people thrived in that environment, and some did not. Those that chose to embrace the rush were obvious in the way they engaged with the race track. Obstacles were mere blips on the radar to navigate around. IF someone was uncomfortable, they'd give a wide berth to their turns - giving themselves the opportunity to right themselves if inertia was not their friend. Amea didn't pull that stunt. She was tight in her clip of various ramps, obstructions, and even keeping her ducks tight beneath overhead laser lines.

Torn between watching the recording of Amea swooping around the track on the data pad, and the clock that counted up her time, Loske was fighting both for equal attention. As she broke the one minute mark, Loske gripped at the air in anticipation. This was exhilarating, even just from the stands.

The bike whipped past Loske, and she had to part the hair that stuck to her face from the wind Amea caused in order to see the final time recorded above. The cloud of dust and sand rolled upwards like a dramatic fog. Once it cleared, the final time revealed itself to a remarkable 02:59:78.

"Under three minutes!" She declared loudly, vaulting from behind the barriers that separated the typical pit crew and the pilots. Frank did his best to trail along with his three sand-anchored legs. He tooted in celebration. "That was amazing! How do you feel? How did that feel!"

 

[Amea Virou]

[member="Loske Matson"]

But her head spun like crazy, the pressure from the bike finally making itself felt as Amea got off of it with her shaky legs. Undoubtedly it brought mind off of things. As she stepped behind cover from prying eyes on the stands Amea would throw the helmet off along with her jacket. Her heart was still up her throat. She needed to sit for a moment. Just a quick one or two to let the world stop spinning.

“I feel… Pretty good.” Amea said and wipe the sweat off her brow. “Less than three, huh?”

Her chest rose and sunk to let in deep inhales and quicker exhales. By all accounts she was just the tiniest bit spent.

“That a good time?”

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Chuckling, Loske reached to collect the discarded items (specifically her helmet) from the ground. In her hands, the head shell rotated as she gave a shrug to [member="Amea Virou"]'s question.

"It's a great time. The best time on this track was just over two -- if you can shave off about 45 seconds you'd be in incredible standing." The helmet stopped rotating in her hands, the visor facing her so she could see her reflection.

"Now you've got a feel for it..how do you feel about entering the race? You should be Blue Saito just..." she flipped the visor side of the armour to face the archeologist. "Keep your helmet on the whole time.

Gives me the chance to work on my Imperial accent a bit more, and fraternize with spectators in the stands."

 

[Amea Virou]

[member="Loske Matson"]

There sat Amea, spraddled all across a small wooden chair and looking about as worn as one could get from keeping an intense focus on the track ahead of them. Her head leaned back over the backrest as she stared up at the ceiling that felt like it was somewhere between throwing itself at her and creeping away. It didn’t seem like it would stop anytime soon. Much less so when Loske Suggested that Amea take her seat on the bike for the race.

She sat up in the seat and looked over at Loske with a raised brow.

“But people would recognize you in the stands.” She said and put her hand to her forehead and let it push her elbow into her knee. “What about that pink-haired woman? She could throw the whole thing wide open.”

Still, Amea looked down at the helmet as each consecutive inhale made the world grow more and more stable. There was no denying that she was tempted to do it. Ever since she was a child she had dreamt of doing something like it. Given the family curse though, and her droid workshop, and having godhood thrown into the mix, the time had never really come for a professional racing career.

Then again, part of why she was Amea now was because she didn’t want anyone to know her professionally either. It was that whole thing with double identities. People didn’t know you, but they also didn’t truly know you either. That was to say that nobody truly knew who Amea was except maybe Runi, and beyond that… Well, no-one. Not that she had many that she considered as close friends as either of her identities. The girl had always been a bit of a loner.

With a hesitant smile she looked at Loske again.

“Sure.” She said and picked up the helmet in her hands again. “I’ll pretend to be you, and… You pretend to be me? I don’t know?”

 

[Loske Treicolt]

She said yes!

Excitement overwhelmed her, and she gripped the air with clenched fists. She was overjoyed for once too, that her staying silent and letting [member="Amea Virou"] work it out on her lonesome had been a triumph. Perhaps she should equip herself with that tactic moreso in the future.

"Yes! Great!" She put her hands around Amea's and moved to suggest lifting the helmet over her head. "The race is starting in another five minutes -- I will..." she pulled her hands away and strummed her chin in thought, light eyes wildly darting about for some sort of mask or something to dissuade attention from her unusually bright hair amidst the tattooine locals. "Ah!" A serendipitous fortune evidenced itself, and she scurried away for a moment to pick up a grease-stained poncho, equipped with a hood. She shimmied it on and flipped the cowl over her hair with showmanship gusto.

"I won't be you, nobody needs to know you or me -- I'll just be..watching."

She stepped back again, pointing her thumb over her shoulder toward the bike. "You just got to get the bike out of the way. Our pink haired friend actually gets to use the track first."

Her mind was racing. Should she also pretend to have a hunch under this ugly cape? People would surely avoid her then!

 

[Amea Virou]

[member="Loske Matson"]

Well, Loske was a quick learner and there was no doubt about that. Amea felt the reality of what she had just agreed to fall upon her shoulders with a weight that was undoubtedly uncomfortable. She had five minutes to ready herself and for Loske to get out there and onto the bleachers with the rest of the crowds. With a gentle sigh she tied her hair back again. With the helmet in her hand once more she gave it a twirl before she placed it on top of her to let it conceal what little it could conceal. She flicked the visor down to let it block her face, and in the final few moments she knelt down to pick up her jacket.

Except once her knee had touched the ground she would feel it shake accompanied by a loud explosion. Her head recoiled upwards in surprise as she threw the visor right back up again to look at Loske. From over in the distance a smoke plume had begun to rise towards the sky as people flocked to the now exploded swoopbike and driver.

Without Amea’s intervention, it seemed that Phre Thartohnt was no more. She gave Loske another horrified look as the crowds erupted into a disappointed if not horrified cacophony of voices. The smell of burnt metal and fuel spread across the area as firefighters rushed to the scene.

Over in the direction of the garage stood the grinning figure of their third driver with his wrench tossed up and down in a slow pattern.

“What the…” Amea said and began to approach Loske’s own bike to pull it closer and run a closer inspection. “That fether better not have.”

Her hand dug into the motor to withdraw what seemed to be a small, misplaced hydrospanner. She held it out for Loske to see.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Busy contemplating a backstory when the explosion happened, she jumped, startled. The sound of disappointment that came after the explosion was surprising. Loske would have shrugged, if there had been a more triumphant or entertained roar. Apparently Tatooine spectators had a a shred of decency. "Sort of typical." She started, by way of explanation. "Swoop racing is supposed to be safer than pod racing because there's left conflict on the track."

She followed after [member="Amea Virou"] as the brunette felt her bike up. "Instead, all the conflict happens before the lights turn green." When the hydrosplanner was evidenced, she shrugged. She was used to that. But that meant there was someone very quick operating, given Amea had just completed the circuit for a test run, and they'd never really left the proximity.

"Can I see that?"

Feeling emboldened by...something..Loske reached out to hold the cylindrical object. Within a handful of seconds, Loske's expression blanked unattractively. Her irises faded into opalescent and her mentality reverted into history.

She saw Amea's palm and fingertips gripping the tool from the perspective of the repair aid. Before Amea, gloved fingertips that curled around the same blunt object. The angle upward was difficult to see, as the tool was mostly concealed for much of its journey. Vague voices, smells, and silhouettes interacted with each other.

She pulled back to reality, releasing her hold on the cylinder and clutched her head beneath the hood with a groan. She wasn't particularly used to that, but seemed to do it whenever Kaili/Amea was around.

"Only got one clue out of all that, our perpetrator has three fingers."

 

[Amea Virou]

[member="Loske Matson"]

Well, it was always hard to deny what was quite clearly right in front of you. Psychometry was one of those things that would have come in handy within Amea’s line of work. However, she was also aware of the downsides to it and the costs it could have if done improperly. At least in the tomb of a long lost Sith Lord, as an example. One touch of that one artifact with all of their burning hatred in and it would be hard to keep from that. Emotions like that didn’t just die out.

So, when Loske gave a descriptor of the perp, well,

“That could be anyone.” She said and tried to scratch her head through the helmet. Didn’t work. “You should get to work tracking this person. Fifty-fifty says that they are somewhere on the bleachers for the race. Find them, decide what you want to do with them, but be discreet.”

Meanwhile, Amea jumped on the bike to give turn it on. There was no sound of tools in the motors. It wasn’t about to blow up just yet so she took that as a good first sign. The time for her to start heading towards the tracks were fast approaching and she motioned for Loske to make haste.

“I’ll see you once this is done.” Amea said and revved the engine just the one time to ensure it was safe. “You take care of that, I take care of this. Worst case, I’ll come back and we’ll see about solving this together.”

And with that she was off towards the track. Loske was a smart woman, she’d know what to do.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

It would be a lie to say Loske was not envious of [member="Amea Virou"] hitting the track, but she seemed to need the adrenaline release more than Loske did. And besides, she was given the reigns to learn new skills now. Accent training, and undercover work! Fuel for the Coalition.

The newfound detective didn't quite buy the hypothesis that the perpetrator had made it all the way to the bleachers just yet. Still, she took the cylindrical object from Amea's grip and stepped backward with a mock-salute to her companion, before her cloaked self turned away into the throngs of sentients mulling about the race track's entrance. She elbowed her way through them, partially hoping to use the hydrospanner would also operate as a beacon to the last known touch. Alas, there was no such fortune.

In the distance, she could hear the countdown for the first racer as they sped out to the track. Apparently they'd cleaned up the pink-haired racer already and were getting back to business, there was little money to be made mourning the loss of a competitor.

She kept her eyes at everyone's hip height. Most pit crews wore gloves, and when others didn't they had their hands in their pockets.

....................... After skulking around for at least four racers, and not having heard Blue Sato being called to the track, Loske finally decided she'd make her way to the stands to hunt down any suspicious looking fellows. Or femmes. It was in this instance, that she saw a huddle of Twi'leks and a few insectoids in the shadowed area of the bleachers. Curious, she edged closer, cautious to stick nearby other patrons who were looking to find their seats and rising through the stairways. She broke off, keeping an eye on the exchange. Culisettos and Gands made up the most of the insectoid part of the group, and they kept looking over their shoulders. Amidst the Twi'Leks was one of the pitt crew members for another racer -- one that Loske had chalked up to be her greatest competition.

Hmmmm.

 

[Jacen Voidstalker]

"Can I go back to my shop now?"

"You really don't like spending time away from your shop, do you?" Jacen asked his uncle.

"No."

Jacen laughed. His uncle was a kind man. He still held something of a grudge that his two brothers had both emigrated to Coruscant. As far as he was concerned sending Voidstalkers to live on a far away world was some kind of heresy.

Jacen had noticed how nervous he was of his shop. The imperials had briefly taken tatooine. There had been stormtroopers on the dusty streets. Then as soon as they had come they had left. The balance of power had been turned upside down, shaken about and then left to sort itself out. Crime had been on the rise and Kellan, who had no children of his own, always seemed a little anxious when he was far from it.

Jacen was trying to keep a low profile here, but anyone who did harm to that shop would have to explain themselves to a very irked jedi master.

"Oh, here they come again!"