Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!

Private Let's Keep This Brief


dray-4.png

| Naboo
| The Observatory
| Royal Republic Intelligence Bureau Headquarters
| 0610 hours

She had been up for three hours preparing for the meeting. Still, she would have likely admitted to butterflies should anyone be able to pry honesty from her cold dying hands. However, she was as prepared as she possibly could be. She practically had the Skynara Trade League matter memorised. Should there be questions, she would have the answers.

She walked at a fast clip. Her hair, short though as it was these days, was tied back into a single efficient ponytail. The black outfit she wore, replete with knee length pencil skirt and single breasted jacket that buttoned almost up to her chin, sat on her in such a way as to cause a few errant glances. She caught them, but she did not care. It was another form of control that she could wield over people. And control was vital.

The door slid open, and she stepped inside the briefing room. The meeting had already begun, causing her to check the time on her datapad. She was early. A frown creased her pastel blue features, but she cleared her frustration quickly. How she could be late to the meeting when five minutes early she would never understand.

"There is great wealth flowing down the Five Veils Trade Route, and the key figure seems to be Wend Marcion,"
said the droid that was leading what Dray now identified as the pre-briefing. Good, she was not late. Through the holographic image of the Tholothian woman that Dray had come to know so well, she looked out over the various agents of the Bureau. She was suitably impressed with the variety, though she thought it foolish not to send her on this mission. She knew the most about Marcion after all.

"Agent Dray Therin will brief you further and take questions," said the droid, who backed away from the console to give Dray the room.

With a curt nod, Dray took the droid's spot and slipped her datapad into the dock. She tapped on the screen to change the image of Marcion to a scrolling list of what appeared to be assets. "Wend Marcion's net worth is calculated to be in excess of seven hundred billion credits," she said, bringing a small amount of chatter from the crowd which she summarily ignored, "these are the companies that she owns spread across one hundred star systems...including two on Naboo."

"Having a lot of money does not make you a bad person, but how you acquire that much money can certainly turn some heads," she continued, pausing the scrolling list to highlight, "this is her company, Galdar Holdings, on Skynara. This company has very well manicured books. Too...well manicured. Several transactions were between it and Marcion's Naboo Capital and Investment have triggered some concern. Through a series of shell companies, we believe that these funds have their origin in black market arms deals."

She flicked a switch and brought up the image of Wend Marcion once again. "We need to get to work on understanding everything about this woman. She has the sort of money...just the money alone...is enough to fund an army big enough to take over Naboo. She currently seems to think of Naboo as a safe place for her to keep her funds. We do not really want to make an enemy of her, nor her lieutenants, but we do need to start chipping away at the base of her empire. This will be a long, complicated process, but we cannot allow Naboo to become a shelter for criminal funds. We must cause the criminals of this galaxy to whisper about how empires fell from the inside the moment they set up shop in our Republic."

She tapped her screen, a list of assignments were sent to each station around the large amphitheater. "Day to day questions can be referred to your department heads. As for any big picture questions that are burning a hole in your skull...speak now, before we get to work."




 



Tags: "Damocles" "Damocles"

xl0bOBL.png


Jara sat in the dimly lit meeting room, the early morning light filtering through the tall windows, casting long shadows on the polished floor. She took a sip of her caf, relishing the bitter warmth that spread through her. The room buzzed with a mix of tension and anticipation, but her focus drifted as she adjusted her comfortable yet practical attire.

With every agent that walked in, she gave a polite nod, a charming smile on her lips, but her mind was elsewhere, flitting between her tasks and her intentions. Finally, she spotted her, Jul, a stunning blonde Chandrilan agent with a confidence that Jara found intoxicating. Jul's radiant presence drew Jara's gaze like a magnet.. As Jul took her seat behind her, Jara turned slightly, her greenish-yellow eyes sparkling with mischief. "What did you get up to last night?" she asked innocently, batting her eyelashes as though the question were a mere curiosity, though the double entendre lingered in the air.

Jul rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh, though a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Oh, you know, the usual." she replied, feigning nonchalance but clearly entertained by Jara's flirtation. They traded playful barbs, exchanging snippets of their evening plans like lovers caught in a charming game, until the room began to quiet down in preparation for the pre-briefing.

Jara turned her attention to the front as the analyst stepped in, and her breath caught in her throat. The sight of this Dray, the Pantoran with her striking blue skin and sleek ponytail, nearly caused Jara's eyes to pop out of her head. "Who is she?" Jara whispered to the Nabooian male seated next to her, her excitement palpable. He shrugged, looking just as confused as she felt. Jara couldn't recall seeing a presence quite like Dray's in the Bureau before, yet there were so many analysts, it was hard to keep track of them all.

As the pre-briefing and then briefing progressed, Jara tried to focus on the information being relayed, but she found herself captivated by Dray. Jara fidgeted with her stylus pen, doodling on her datapad when she should have been taking notes. Key words flashed on the screen, and she jotted down the occasional note, but her thoughts frequently drifted back to the analyst.

As Dray transitioned into a segment for bigger picture questions, Jara's mind raced. Various agents asked questions, trying to clarify aspects of the mission or suggesting potential strategies. The room buzzed with murmurs, and Jara felt a familiar pull to participate. She raised her hand, a playful grin forming on her lips as she addressed Dray directly. "So, Dray, with all this talk of needing to infiltrate Marcion's empire, we should probably work in pairs, right? Maybe you can join me… you know, for a more analytical touch for such an important mission?"

The groan that rippled through the room was palpable, agents rolled their eyes and exchanged knowing glances, as if this was normal for Jara. Jules kicked her shin beneath the table, a mixture of amusement and exasperation etched on her face. Jara's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink, the rush of embarrassment mingling with the thrill of flirting as a sly smile danced on her lips. It seemed that no matter how serious the mission, Jara was determined to keep the air light, even if it meant drawing the ire of her fellow agents. But in that moment, as she locked eyes with Dray, she couldn't help but feel that the risk was worth it.


 

dray-4.png


The questions started coming in, and Dray was ready. She listened intently, face stoic, as the first agent spoke up. The stoicism cracked fairly soon after the woman was done speaking though. Dray glanced down at her datapad. "Agent..."

She scrolled through the names of those in attendance before finding the image of the green-skinned white-haired woman that had spoken up. "...Jara Voss...huh...sounds like a laundry detergent brand." She did mutter the latter comment, but it was still easily heard.

She looked up again, flicking off the holo projector to better see the room better. Her scowl was gone now, and she simply looked around the room. "If there are no legitimate questions, you all have your assignments," she said in a measured tone, "the assignments have been approved by brass and fit your agent profile best. If you believe you have been assigned a mission in error, please speak with me after the briefing. If you do not think you are capable of the mission you have. been given...you are wrong. You wouldn't be here if you were not capable." She made a point of glaring at Jara.

A hand was raised near the back of the room. "Yes. Mr. Ksys."

"It says here that Marcion has security that is equivalent to some planet's militias...who would you assign to infiltrate a asteroid station like that?"

Her eyes flicked towards Jara only briefly. "Only the best. Mr Ksys. Only the best." Or the most expendable.

She spent a moment looking around for any more questions, but as she had expected there really wasn't a lot to ask. The briefing was thorough, probably too thorough. "Alright then. That will conclude the briefing. I will stay for a time should you have questions of a more private nature related to your work."

The room descended into a hustle and a bit of bustle as people talked, exchanged intel and generally set about getting their teams in order for the mission ahead. Dray was busy fielding questions and giving necessary pep talks to those that seemed overwhelmed by the task ahead. Slowly the room emptied out, and Dray turned to retrieve her datapad.

Click.

The datapad disconnected from the dock, and some movement caught her eye. She looked up, and then pulled the datapad to her chest. It was a subconscious protective measure, one that she would analyse latter. "Agent Voss. If you have stayed behind to continue your unwelcome banter, I will have to head it off before it begins. Your reputation precedes you. I shall not be one of your exploits."



 



Tags: "Damocles" "Damocles"

xl0bOBL.png


Jara's heart raced with excitement as Dray acknowledged her in the midst of the briefing. Her confident smile lit up her face, illuminating the corners of the dimly lit room. But that joy swiftly evaporated like mist when Dray likened her name to a laundry detergent brand.

"Oh." Jara thought, feeling her cheeks burn as a ripple of laughter erupted around the room. She slumped in her seat, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. The teasing from her fellow agents felt like a warm breeze mixed with embarrassment, and she could feel her smile faltering as they chuckled at her expense. She tried to laugh it off, but a knot formed in her stomach.

"Rude." she thought, feeling the sharp sting of disappointment as Dray ignored her question, moving on as if Jara's attempt to engage hadn't even registered. Determined not to let it get her down, she redirected her focus to her datapad, flicking through the assignments with a renewed sense of purpose.

She scanned her new mission: infiltrating an asteroid station known for its heavy militia presence. A spark of worry flickered through her, but it was quickly doused by the confidence that had always driven her. After all, Dray had said they were sending only the best, and Jara was nothing if not self-assured. She smirked to herself, resolving to let nothing deter her spirit.

As the meeting wrapped up and the agents began to disperse, Jara swiftly packed her things, her excitement bubbling back to the surface. She nearly skipped to the front, her mind racing with a rehearsed barrage of questions that were just waiting to escape. However, before she could launch into her queries, Dray's cutting tone sliced through the air.

"Reputation? Exploits?" Jara shot back playfully, a cheeky grin returning to her face. "I think you have the wrong impression of me." She held out her datapad, tapping it with a flourish. "You said it yourself, only the best get to infiltrate the asteroid station. And that would be me - the best. That's my reputation."

She let the silence linger for a moment, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and then launched into a rapid-fire series of questions. "So... Dray," she began, her voice bright and engaging, "how long have you been at the Observatory? Where are you from? What do you like to do? You should come out with us tonight! We plan on heading into Moenia for the evening; it'll be a blast, don't you think?"

Jara swayed on the balls of her heels, her anticipation palpable as she watched Dray for a reaction, eager to crack the stoic facade that the Pantoran had presented.


 

dray-4.png


Dray maintained an almost dead-eyed expression as Voss attempted to sway the conversation about her reputation. Agent Therin though was not to be so easily swayed. She knew the files on each of the staff members that were assigned to this mission. She made her life to understand them. Jara Voss was not just the best infiltrator that they had. Oh no. Dray could see right through her.

"Are you quite finished?" Dray said with only a slight lift of her right eyebrow.

She opened up a file on her datapad. "I will not be joining you for frivolities. It is an unnecessary distraction from a potentially career defining endeavour. But I understand your need for it. You are an instinctual being. You thrive on vibes and a buoyancy of your spirit is necessary to keep you going during some very tough missions."

Dray looked up again, yellow eyes calm and determined. She turned the datapad around to reveal Jara's mission report from the recent Sith incursion on Enarc. "It must have been difficult to bounce back emotionally from such an ugly event."

What Jara Voss had undergone on Enarc would have been enough to leave most in therapy for the next few years. Yet, she seemed to have bounced back. Perhaps there was some special talent for detachment.

"Your ability to focus and maintain composure in high pressure situations is the reason I chose you for your specific assignment. As uncomforting as it may sound, your resilience on Enarc was that which convinced me you were the person for the job. Do not take this statement lightly, for I do not give it freely..."

Dray turned the datapad back around to clutch it to her chest.

"...I trust you."


 
Last edited:



Tags: "Damocles" "Damocles"

xl0bOBL.png


Jara's face morphed into an exaggerated frown as Dray questioned whether she was done with her questions, the corners of her mouth stretching downward comically. Folding her arms defiantly, she cast an appraising gaze over Dray. Despite the Pantoran's bluntness, Jara couldn't completely disregard her captivating presence. If she weren't so stunning, her aloofness would be far more off-putting. With a dramatic turn of her head, she raised her chin, signaling her indifference as Dray began to flip through her file. Whatever was in there, Jara was convinced it couldn't capture her true essence. She was more than just thriving "on vibes", she could get the job done no matter what.

Jara's mood darkened momentarily as Dray's words touched on the recent horrors of Enarc. The cries of the innocent, the chaos of battle, it had all been a horrific blur, Those memories were locked away, compartmentalized in the depths of her mind, a place she rarely visited. But as Dray's assessment shifted to compliment territory, Jara couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. The praise, her ability to focus and resilience, and being the perfect person for the assignment, caught her attention.

Intrigued, Jara raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips as she sauntered a bit closer to Dray. "You trust me, huh?" she challenged, her voice lifting with playfulness. With precision, she extended a perfectly manicured nail, tapping the datapad Dray held close to her chest. "Well, trust me when I tell you, that file doesn't even scratch the surface of who I am."

Jara shifted sideways, leaning against the wall with an air of nonchalance, her presence almost daring Dray to be caught off-guard. "But I'm offering you an opportunity with my 'frivolous' activities to come and explore those files, analyze if they're correct or not, get to know me." she invited, edging a bit too close to Dray before exhaling a deep breath and retreating, now perched casually on the table in front of them.

"Plus, I need to know if I can trust you as an analyst. It's only fair you come out with me tonight, right?" Jara suggested confidently, refusing to let the conversation end. "I hardly take no for an answer, Ms. Dray. It should be right there in the file. If not, you have some work to do on me." she quipped, her grin broad and expectant.

Settling back, Jara pulled out her own datapad, her fingers deftly tapping away as if searching for records on Dray. Pretending disinterest, she feigned focus elsewhere, fully expecting Dray's eventual acquiescence to her invitation.

 

dray-4.png

Dray actually smiled. And it did not crack the near porcelain perfection of her skin. Voss's reputation was well earned. Dray knew what was happening and also knew what to do.

The Pantoran had to admit that she did find the woman to be endearingly persistent. Endearingly persistent to the point of annoyance. She looked down at the datapad and scrolled down to the section that gave the recommendations for how to motivate Voss. Pink lips curled in understanding upon reading the brief. She knew it, sure, but double checking when you were about to make such a drastic heel turn was advisable.

Agent Therin approached, eyes growing heavier, lips parting as she slowly wet just her upper lip. "Look. Jara. May I call you Jara?" She said, her voice now close to a purr.

Her hand rose to slowly push Voss' datapad downwards to try and get the woman's attention. And then in a sudden but gentle move swept up a few loose strands of her white hair and began to twist it around her blue fingers. Her eyes looked down, over the form of the agent before her, and then back up to capture her eyes. "You know...Jara...this...mission you are going on...is really important to me. I know you need to loosen up. But that is not my method..."

She swayed gently, and bit her lip while she thought.

"...I work hard. And then after the job is done. Well. I party even harder."

Her lips remained parted for a time, tongue flicking off her teeth, while her eyes blazed with the dare laid down. "How about...we get this mission out of the way...you come back alive...and then show me if you can keep up? What do you say?"






 
Last edited:



Tags: "Damocles" "Damocles"

xl0bOBL.png


Jara's gaze flicked up from her datapad, catching the sly smile gracing Dray's lips. A rush of warmth surged through her, causing her to bite her own lip in response. There was something intoxicating about the Pantoran's presence, and Jara couldn't help but feel she had the upper hand in this playful exchange. As her eyes traveled back to the screen, the details of Dray's profile unfurled like a story begging to be read.

Dray, seemingly a product of Enarc's elite with that education, exuded an air of quiet confidence it read. Her thoughts danced around the description: well-educated, poised, and undeniably sure of herself. The mention of a superiority complex made Jara smirk, she would have to find a way to bring Dray down a peg or two. The mundane details of Dray's upbringing, the dull family life, seemed rather sad.

As she delved deeper into the recommendations section, a thrill shot through her. Password protected? Easy. She had already flirted her way to that insider knowledge, it always had been one of Jara's specialties, to extract such information from desperate individuals. Companionship, the file suggested she needed, maybe some interpersonal relationships. Well, Jara mused, she could certainly rise to the challenge.

"You may call me whatever you want, gorgeous." she quipped, her voice sultry and light as she continued to sift through the file, letting her playful tone linger in the air.

But her attention shifted dramatically when Dray stepped closer, pushing down Jara's datapad with a gentle yet firm hand. The touch sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through Jara's veins, pulling her focus entirely to the stunning Pantoran before her. Dray's fingers brushed back Jara's white hair with a softness that was almost intimate, and Jara's heart raced as she looked into those captivating yellow eyes.

Jara nodded, absorbing Dray's words about the mission, the importance of completing it, and the promise of what might come afterward. A flicker of excitement danced in her chest, a tantalizing thought of the 'play' that lay ahead once the job was done.

"I... I can do that." she murmured, feeling a flush creeping into her cheeks as she mentally discarded her previous plans for the evening. Suddenly, the thought of a good night's sleep seemed far less appealing than the thrill of what awaited her.

With a playful tilt of her head, she averted her gaze for a moment, half-expecting the answer she knew was coming. But she couldn't resist asking, "But still, wouldn't it be more fun… uh, more useful for you to come along with me?" Her eyes sparkled as she looked back up at Dray, batting her eyelashes in a playful tease.

 

dray-4.png


Her tongue caught on her top row of teeth, listening and observing the Mirialan as she lost herself in a little fluster. It was endearing, to an extent. Poor Voss was already caught hook line and sinker.

"You haven't read the mission description fully have you?"
Said Agent Therin, with a smirk.

She pulled her datapad around to show Voss the screen, and scrolled down to her assignment and then dragged open the box to display full on screen. There it read: Infiltration mission assignment, Jara Voss; Case officer, Dray Therin. "I will be in a cloaked shuttle out in the field. I will run exfil and provide eyes on and in ear support..."

She cast Voss a golden eyed glare. "...you won't be going in naked, this time."

The term was common intelligence parlance for being alone, however the innuendo was a clear as her gaze was fixed. Finally, Therin back away, her demeanour reclaiming the stoic control that it had, though the smallest of smiles lingered on the kiss of her lips.

"Right. So. To the mission then. I will see you at 0800 hours in three days for departure," she said calmly, and professionally. With that, Dray spun about on her heels and clipped them as she strode confidently out of the room.



An old rusty bulk freighter sat in a pristine hangar on the outskirts of Theed. It was perfect cover for the Five Veils run, and would be the vessel on which their small shuttle would be stowed until its brief stop outside of the Antarran Asteroid belt for 'emergency repairs'. That was when Dray and Voss would slip their shuttle out of its hold and hopefully fall in among the asteroids, and hide easily.

Dray was dressed in a crisp orange jumpsuit, with emergency oxygen system built in. It was a pilot's jumpsuit really, but it was more so she could be ready to go extravehicular if necessary. Jara wouldn't have a choice. Her entrance into the space station would be through using a jumppack and Zero-G suit. Dray had already packed them, though she knew Agent Voss would probably must prefer to check if over herself, so Therin had not bolted the case shut.

They had not seen each other since the briefing, and Dray had given her little thought beyond the mission preparations. There was no time for anything more. There was no reason for anything more. Dray had too much to do. And no time for foolishness.

"Finik. Did you get that subspace rig set up?"

"Yeah, sure did, Therin. Comms will be no problem. Once you are jacked in on site we should be able to download any and all data accessible from the terminal you spike."

"Won't be me doing the spiking..."




 
Last edited:



Tags: "Damocles" "Damocles"

xl0bOBL.png


As Jara listened to Dray, she found herself utterly captivated by the Pantoran's presence. Dray's voice was smooth and authoritative, each word wrapping around Jara like a soft, warm blanket. The intensity of those golden eyes drew Jara in, making her pulse race as she hung on every syllable. This wasn't the usual playful banter Jara thrived in, this was more electric.

"I have..." Jara replied, her voice breathy, her thoughts momentarily derailed by the playful yet suggestive tone in Dray's words. The image of "going in naked" flared to life in her mind, sending a rush of heat to her cheeks. It took every ounce of her willpower to shake the thought away, to focus on the mission at hand, but as Dray continued speaking, the words blurred into a soft hum, the essence of Dray overshadowing them all.

As Dray turned to leave, Jara's gaze trailed after her, unwilling to let go of the moment. She blinked in disbelief, an amused smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, marveling at her own flustered state. This was new territory for her, feeling flustered around someone, particularly someone like Dray, who seemed so composed and put together. Usually she was the one flustering others.



Three days later, anticipation thrummed through Jara as she stepped aboard the small shuttle, the air charged with excitement. She wore a sleek black jumpsuit, cinched at the hips, complemented by a crisp white tank top. She felt fierce, ready for whatever the mission held. But beyond the assignment, it was thoughts of Dray that filled her mind, thoughts laced with a thrill. Would Dray feel the same? Did their last encounter linger in her mind as it did in Jara's?

As Jara stepped into the shuttle and caught sight of Dray, her heart leaped. A wide grin broke across her face, radiating warmth and a hint of mischief. "That would be my job." she declared, extending her hand toward Finik with a playful confidence that disguised her nervous excitement. "Agent Jara Voss."

She maneuvered around the open case, her heart racing as she glanced over her shoulder to Dray, catching her eye. Jara gave her a quick wink, a silent assurance of trust between them, a playful promise that she was ready for anything. With a decisive flick, she bolted the case closed and found her seat, her thoughts only half on the mission, the other half spinning around Dray's presence.

"Did you miss me?" Jara teased, her voice light and filled with a flirtatious lilt as she turned her gaze back to Dray, eyes sparkling with mischief and anticipation for what lay ahead.

 

dray-4.png




The interior of the shuttle was sterile and quiet, its hum a low thrum beneath their boots. Dray stood at the rear, arms folded neatly behind her back, posture rigid in that ever-silent declaration that she did not belong to the same atmosphere as the rest of them. She wore the jumpsuit like it had been tailored for her—pristine, zipped to the throat, not a wrinkle in sight. Her hair was pulled tight, her expression tighter.

Finik looked between the two women and cleared his throat as Jara made her introduction.

"Yeah, uh... Finik. Flight ops. I'll be in the chair the whole time. Good luck in there." He gestured vaguely toward the command panel, clearly eager to excuse himself from the tension forming in the air. "I'll just… prep pre-launch."

Dray gave him a curt nod. "Five minutes." Her tone brooked no argument.

She didn't look at Jara immediately. She busied herself with final system checks—her fingers moved over the holoscreen with mechanical precision, reading codes, confirming diagnostics. It wasn't until she heard the click of the case bolting shut that she finally turned.

Jara's voice cut through the silence, lilting, eager.

"Did you miss me?"

There was no pause in Dray's stride as she approached. The look she gave in return was flat. Impenetrable.

"That depends," she said, her voice low and cool. "Did you review the infiltration parameters I sent you, or were you too busy imagining your next drink in Moenia?"

Her datapad slipped smoothly from her hip holster, lighting up with a gesture as she brought up the infiltration schematics. She handed it to Jara without flourish, without warmth.

"You'll be entering through an atmospheric intake port on the station's underbelly. Minimal heat signature, minimal security—but zero margin for error. You'll need to time your entry between refraction sweeps, and if you miss the window, you drift out there until you run out of air. Understood?"

She waited for confirmation, yellow eyes cold and unwavering.

Then, after a beat, her expression shifted. A slow exhale. A lowering of her shoulders. The datapad slipped from her grasp and onto the console beside them with a clack.

The change wasn't subtle—it was a deliberate gear-shift, and it slid into place with a grace that felt practiced.

Dray stepped closer, just enough to brush past Jara's personal space. Her voice softened, laced with honey she didn't feel.

"But... you already knew that, didn't you?" Her tone was quiet now, velvet draped over steel. Her gaze dipped—once, deliberate—before locking with Jara's again. "You've been dying for this mission. The danger. The isolation. The high wire with no net. That's what gets your blood pumping, isn't it?"

She let her hand brush the back of Jara's shoulder lightly as she moved past her, pausing just beside her ear.

"You don't want someone watching from a control room." Her breath was soft, measured. "You want someone who sees you."

And just like that, she pulled away. The warmth in her tone gone. The distance returned.

"We launch in four. Strap in."

Dray moved to her chair at the co-pilot's console without looking back, spine straight, jaw set, every gesture screaming that whatever had just happened… hadn't.


 



Tags: "Damocles" "Damocles"

xl0bOBL.png


Jara's pulse thrummed like a drum beneath her skin, the chaos in her mind a wicked blend of adrenaline and exhilaration as Dray laid out the mission one last time. She nodded, barely listening, because honestly? She could run this op in her sleep. Maybe even blindfolded. Especially if Dray was into that kind of thing.

"I've memorized the parameters like a love letter." her voice soaked in that lazy confidence that always danced on the edge of a dare. "Blindfold optional, unless that's how you like your agents." She flashed a crooked grin, the kind that hinted at trouble and didn't apologize for it. "But full disclosure? I'm am mostly fantasizing about my... our next drink in Moenia."

Dray stepped closer, and the air changed. Denser. Warmer. A subtle electricity built between them. When Dray's fingers grazed her shoulder, barely a touch, a whisper, Jara felt it like a jolt, her breath catching. The intensity in Dray's golden eyes slicing through every mask Jara wore. Those eyes didn't just look at her, they read her, like an open transmission.

Her gaze flicked downward, just for a second, to Dray's lips, traitorous and curious. A flutter ignited low in her stomach, rebellious and raw, and she hated how transparent she felt. Or maybe she didn't. Dray somehow had this way of dismantling her defenses like they were poorly constructed set pieces in a play they both knew the ending to. And Jara hated admitting it, but she liked being seen, even if it left her unsteady.

Each syllable from Dray wrapped around her like a cable line, tugging her in, bit by bit. The truth between them wasn't spoken, but it hung there, a shared pulse of danger and desire. Jara felt herself leaning into it, just a hair, just enough. When Dray moved away, her absence left a ghost of heat behind. Jara cleared her throat, spun on her heel, and half-stumbled into her seat with the kind of casual bravado that covered for nerves.

Dray had changed. Softer in the edges, but sharper where it counted. Jara didn't know what that meant yet, but she intended to find out. Whatever puzzle Dray was handing her, she'd take the pieces and make a masterpiece out of them. It was all a game. The kind Jara loved most.

Later, as the shuttle carved through the asteroid belt like a predator through smoke, Jara moved with intention. The quiet hum of their stop for "repairs" was the only soundtrack as she unlatched her Zero-G suit from its case. She unzipped her jumpsuit slowly, letting the fabric fall with an audible hush, every movement smooth, practiced, deliberate. Her heartbeat ticked faster, more from anticipation than nerves.

The Zero-G suit clung to her like a second skin, its high-tech weave sliding over her frame with a cold kiss before sealing her in. She caught herself glancing toward the cockpit between each step, watching for a shadow, a flicker, a sliver of yellow eyes watching back.

She didn't know if Dray saw. That wasn't the point.

The point was maybe.

And that maybe lit her veins with fire.

 

dray-4.png


The bulk freighter rumbled as it coasted into position, nestled against the edge of the Asteroid Belt like a vulture playing dead. Its engines coughed once, then dimmed into silence, leaving only the hiss of cooling systems and the soft clicking of stabilizers compensating against microdrift.

Inside the cramped shuttle bay, the atmosphere was taut. Dray stood near the boarding ramp of the stowed vessel, checking the readouts on the nav overlay one last time. Her face was lit only by the pale glow of the datapad, jaw locked tight in focus.

"Standby," she said curtly, tapping into the encrypted comms line to Finik. "Any moment now."

As if on cue, a sharp crackle burst through the comms system—an incoming hail. Unfriendly. Suspicious.

"Freighter Harrower's Fall, this is Antarran Station Z-95. You've drifted into our restricted perimeter. State your purpose immediately."

Finik winced, fingers dancing nervously across his controls. "Here we go," he muttered, slapping the comms toggle. His voice shifted instantly—oily, exasperated, laced with just the right amount of blue-collar fatigue.

"Antarran Z-95, yeah, sorry, this is Harrower's Fall out of Nar Shaddaa. We're haulin' scrap from Duro—lost a vector thruster mid-course and now she's runnin' colder than a Hutt's heart. Was hopin' to swing wide and initiate emergency diagnostics. No offense meant."

Silence.

In the cockpit, Finik held the comms key open, breathing slow, steady. He knew better than to fill the gap with noise. Dray watched him from her post, unreadable.

Then—

"…Copy that, Harrower's Fall. Diagnostics only. Hold position. You have fifteen minutes before we alert patrols. Transmit telemetry on request."

Finik's fist hit the console in silent celebration. "Copy, Z-95. Diagnostics only. Appreciate the grace. Harrower's Fall out."

Dray didn't hesitate. "Go time."

She spun, striding into the shuttle bay proper, her boots barely audible over the rising whine of powered systems. She met Jara by the launch alcove, where the final seals of her Zero-G suit were locking into place. Dray's own was already secured, matte orange and black, every strap and buckle cinched tight.

She didn't offer a look. Didn't have to.

"On my mark," she said, voice modulated through the suit comm. "Drop is timed to the drift of asteroid 4827-X. You'll use it to shield approach. If you overshoot, I'm not recovering you. If you undershoot, they'll see you. So don't miss."

She leaned forward slightly as she moved to the ramp controls, voice dropping low in Jara's earpiece—calm, sharp, in that tone she reserved for dangerous things she secretly respected.

"Impress me."

With a hiss and a burst of venting pressure, the shuttle ramp cracked open. Cold void spilled in like a predator. In the silence, the only sound was the soft ping of the countdown timer ticking toward launch.

Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
Drop.


Dray and Jara's shuttle vanished into the stars.


 



Tags: "Damocles" "Damocles"

xl0bOBL.png


Jara launched clean into the void like a shot from a cannon, silent, surgical, a glittering speck swallowed by black. The asteroid loomed ahead, its surface glinting with faint light as she adjusted her thrusters in micro-bursts.

Her breath was tight in her chest, not from fear, no, not that. But from the familiar, maddening thrill. The suit's interior pressed in cool and close, heartbeat echoing in her ears. She could hear Dray's voice from moments earlier, still clinging to the back of her neck like static: "Impress me."

Well. Challenge accepted.

She pivoted through a debris shadow, using a drifting metal shard as cover, her body aligning with the intake port like she'd been born for this. Which, in a way, she had. This was her element, where nerves sharpened into instinct, and the line between cocky and clever blurred just enough to keep her alive.

But it wasn't just the mission that had her heart stammering in her throat. It was Dray.

Even now, as Jara coasted beneath the station's underbelly, her mind flicked back to the way Dray had leaned in. The warmth in her words, fleeting, surgical, intentional. That single brush of a hand had set off a chemical chain reaction Jara was still trying to contain inside the pressurized walls of her suit.

She whispered into the comms, a smirk in her voice even if her face was all business behind the visor.

"If you wanted to watch me squirm in a skin-tight suit while risking my life, all you had to do was ask."

A beat of silence.

Then, quieter, almost thoughtful.

"I'm in position. Approaching the port."

Her tone shifted, sultry banter tucked neatly beneath professional clarity. She wasn't playing just for laughs anymore. She was threading the needle, between vulnerability and bravado, between affection and function.

As her mag-boots clicked onto the station's hull, she allowed herself one last glance toward the stars, toward the tiny speck of the shuttle now drifting somewhere behind her. Somewhere with Dray inside, probably listening, probably pretending not to care.

That was fine.

Jara could pretend too... or maybe not.

 

dray-4.png


Antarran Station Z-95 – Internal Control Room

"Hey, you ever wonder why our rotation always falls during meteor flare season?"

Kex leaned back in his swivel chair, boots up on the console, chewing on a ration bar with the enthusiasm of a man who had long since given up on taste. The other tech, a pale-skinned Togruta named Veln, didn't look up from his screen.

"Because the universe hates us," Veln replied flatly. "Also because you always swap shifts when it's maintenance week."

"Strategic delegation," Kex said proudly, tossing the wrapper into the recycler with a perfect arc. "I'm like a battle commander. You think Thrawn ever scrubbed coolant filters?"

Veln finally looked up, unimpressed. "If Thrawn were here, we wouldn't have a glitch in Sector Twelve every third orbit."

"It's not a glitch," Kex said with a dismissive wave. "It's personality. The system's just...quirky."

As if to punctuate the statement, a soft alarm chimed—non-emergency, barely worth noting.

Veln glanced at the readout. "Harrower's Fall has moved off. Diagnostics check out. Still think they were faking?"

Kex shrugged. "Probably. But the old girl limped away slow and sad enough to be real. Like my first speeder after a night in the Theed backstreets."

"Gross."

"Historical."

They both laughed, returning to their consoles, blissfully unaware that 300 meters below their feet, two operatives were defying death and thermal signatures like artists in a high-stakes trapeze act.



Shuttle – One click from Antarran Station

Dray exhaled slowly as the transponder feed leveled out. The shuttle drifted like dust against the stars, held steady in the freighter's thermal wake long enough for her to track Jara's trajectory. The faint blinking dot was already in position—exactly in position.

She didn't say it, but her posture shifted ever so slightly. Pride without expression. Admiration without indulgence.

"Readjusting angle. Locking mag boots," she said over comms, more to herself than Finik. Jara launched clean—controlled, disciplined, her Zero-G profile a model of elegance. No wasted movement. No need for theatrics.

Still, Dray's gaze tracked that dot the entire way down.

The hull of the station rose up to meet Jara in silence, the shuttle's HUD flickering softly with distance readouts and gravitational realignments. The window to land was tight. Margin of error? Measured in heartbeats.

Then—click. Dray could almost hear it as Jara's boots locked even across the void of space. She breathed again.

"Good staging," she said quietly into the comm. Cool. Measured. Then she let the corner of her lips twitch upward.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were showing off."

Pause.

"But keep going. I'm taking notes."

She pressed face closer to the window of the shuttles small cockpit, watching for the faintest glimmer of an explosion from the coolant duct which could indicate Jara's sudden death. Dray was all business again. Almost.

 



Tags: "Damocles" "Damocles"

xl0bOBL.png


Jara flattened herself against the ribbed edge of the intake port, heartbeat slamming like war drums in her ears. The air was thin and cold inside the suit, but her palms were hot, sweaty inside the gloves. Her breaths came shallow, eyes tracking the rhythmic shimmer of the station's external sweep as it refracted across the hull in a lazy, deadly arc.

That shimmer was death.

Miss the timing, and you were a bright green smear against cold steel, or worse, drifting away into the black, suit pressure dropping, lungs begging for air while your comms filled with silence.

She adjusted the grip on the hull, fingers tensing, feet braced magnetically to the station. One beat. Two. She counted the sweep in her head, counting off the rhythm like a dancer waiting for her cue. Then.... go.

Jara moved. She dove.

A sharp hiss cut across her suit as she disengaged the boots mid-motion and rolled through the port's outer rim, folding her limbs in tight to minimize her silhouette. She slid into the shaft, the entrance just wide enough for her body to make it through with a millimeter to spare. One of the strap buckles on her thigh caught for a second, sending her heart into her throat before she yanked hard, twisting her hips and finally tumbling inward, spinning slightly as the zero-G interior took her.

The shimmer passed behind her. She was in.

Jara clung to the port's interior wall, arms braced, boots engaging only when she was fully certain the sweep had moved on. The airlock chamber ahead was silent, a dark mouth leading into the belly of the beast. No alarms. No movement.

Her chest rose and fell in short bursts, and she laughed softly, breath fogging the inside of her visor. The sound wasn't relief, it was adrenaline, wrapped in reckless satisfaction. She lived for this part. The almost didn't make it part.

Her yellow-green eyes scanned the shadows of the intake shaft with crisp precision, as she crouched low and pressed against the wall, body moving like liquid in motion.

She tapped the comms. "Dray." she whispered, voice husky with excitement. "I'm in. Alive. Which, you know, feels relevant."

She paused, watching the dim glow of a maintenance light flicker somewhere down the shaft, before shifting sideways to stay in the blind spot of a ceiling cam. Her tone dipped, just enough to tug on the edges of affection beneath the teasing.

"Tell me what I'm looking for, gorgeous. Unless this is one of your little tests again."

She ducked around a vent shaft, silent as breath, the militia's boots echoing distantly from somewhere deeper in the corridor. She didn't flinch. She didn't blink.

But she was listening for Dray.

 



dray-4.png

Shuttle – 1.01 Clicks from Antarran Station

Dray's eyes followed the blinking green dot on her console—steady now, inside the shaft. She didn't allow relief. Only confirmation.

Her fingers lingered on the console without moving, the mission humming along in perfect stillness. When Jara’s voice filled the comms, husky and alive, Dray let her lips press into a faint, unreadable line.

She toggled the channel open, her voice slipping through like chilled silk.

"Glad you survived, Voss. I'd just gotten used to your voice cluttering my comms."

There was a pause. Not long enough to be dramatic. Just enough to make it personal.

"East corridor. Forty meters. Unmarked hatch on your left. Crawlspace should parallel the upper patrol loop. No cams inside, but the vent hum will cover your sound—barely."

Her posture didn’t change, but her tone shifted, nearly imperceptible—like the edge of a blade dulled with purpose.

"Three nodes. Layered redundancies. If you're as good as you like to pretend you are, I won't have to lift a finger."

And then, with just the hint of something dangerous curling at the edge of her words:

"Unless you're stalling for the part where I come hold your hand again."

Dray's gaze moved over the datafeed as it parsed the latest schematics—layers of pale blue light and shifting telemetry casting ghostlike reflections across her mask-like features. She didn't frown. She didn't sigh. But her jaw tightened by a fraction as the route Jara would need to take unfolded in full detail.

Three nodes.
Each one an engineered choke point. Each one an opportunity to fail.

The readout detailed them in cold, unforgiving clarity.

Node One was tucked inside a ventilation crawl without proper clearance access—just a narrow ribbed tunnel laced with biometric ping sweeps every sixty seconds. The system wouldn't scan for ID—just presence. Anything not bouncing back with the right frequency would be flagged. If Jara hesitated for even a second too long between pulses, the station would know.

Node Two was worse. A corridor with rotating militia patrols augmented by proximity fields. Dray's eyes narrowed. The sensors didn't detect movement—they measured breath. Every step needed to be calculated to fall inside the dead zones. One wrong motion, and she'd light up the grid like a bonfire.

Node Three was the lock. Not just a slicer's challenge, but a psychological puzzle wrapped in a digital maze. Dual-layered encryption, tied to a heuristic learning subroutine. The station's AI adapted to threat behaviour—every bypass attempt fed it information, made it smarter. There was no room for error. No repeat tries.

Dray leaned back slightly, watching the blinking green dot that represented Jara slowly advance along the crawlspace route.

This wasn't just infiltration. It was performance art under live fire.

She clicked the comms open again, her tone flat, but her eyes tracking every millimetre Jara moved.

"Approach Node One with standard pulse timing. You've got a fifteen-second window between sweeps. Keep crawling. No second chances."

Then, a pause.

"And Voss? Try not to show off."

The corners of her mouth lifted. Barely. Almost. She was curious to see how Jara would handle the dance.
 



Tags: "Damocles" "Damocles"

xl0bOBL.png


Jara's breath rasped hard in her throat as she wriggled through the narrow vent, shoulders hunched tight, elbows scraping the ribbed metal interior. The crawlspace was smaller than it looked on the mission brief, because of course it was. Sweat slicked the inside of Jara's helmet, her white hair clinging to her temple in damp strands. Her heart pounded, not just from exertion but from the press of the station all around her, like the metal itself was trying to crush her, swallow her whole.

"Fifteen seconds between sweeps." she muttered, more to the metal than to Dray. "Yeah, no pressure."

Node One's pulse system hissed ahead, that faint, glassy sound of an energy wave sliding through the tunnel. She froze. Held her breath. Waited. Her body ached with stillness, fingers cramping from gripping the narrow handholds too long. One beat. Two. Then she pushed forward, dragging herself along like a snake, every movement deliberate and silent.

She cleared the pulse field with maybe half a second to spare. Maybe less.

"Still alive." she whispered, grinning despite herself. "Suck it, node one."

Node Two was somehow more difficult. The corridor yawned open like a silent dare, its floor etched with the invisible perimeter of proximity fields that wanted to ruin her week. And there were guards now, real ones, not just machines and algorithms. She crouched behind a supply crate, sucking in shallow breaths, her chest heaving. Her vision swam slightly. Not enough oxygen.

She counted it out, listening for the rhythm of footsteps, the lull between breaths, the moment when the field's hum dipped. Then she moved. Silent. Fluid. One foot in front of the other, her whole body coiled like a spring, held taut by sheer will and a touch of reckless faith.

Halfway across, her left foot slipped just slightly. Just enough to send her body tilting, a split-second wobble that sent her heart into her throat. She caught herself. Froze. Didn't breathe. The patrol passed, none the wiser.

She wanted to scream. Instead, she mouthed a curse and kept going, each step a prayer, each breath timed like a heartbeat in someone else's body.

Node Three was less of a system and more of a personality test designed by a sentient jerk. Jara dropped into the lock chamber like a shadow, her face slick with sweat, hands trembling slightly as she connected her bypass tool to the port. The interface blinked to life, two rings of shifting code, dancing around a central puzzle. One mistake and the system would learn her tactics. Lock her out.

She hesitated, just for a second. Then she smirked.

"Dray." she whispered, "Just remember, I am as good as I pretend to be."

She cracked her knuckles, flexed her fingers once, and dove into the code.

Ten minutes passed. Maybe twenty. Her hands moved fast, eyes narrowed, lips pressed tight as she fought the AI with every trick she'd ever learned, and a few she hadn't known she knew. The lock blinked red. Then amber. Then... green.

Jara sagged back with a shaky laugh, shoulders quaking from the tension. She tapped the comm, her voice breathy, frayed around the edges but triumphant.

"Node Three. Cracked. Try not to be too impressed, I'm very humble."

She leaned her head back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut for just a second. Every muscle in her body ached. Her suit was soaked through. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.

But she was through.

She'd done it.

Somehow, again.

And Dray?

She knew Dray was still watching. Still tracking her every move like a hawk in orbit.

Jara grinned into the comm.

"Still alive, gorgeous. You owe me a drink. Or three. And maybe a back rub."

 


dray-4.png

Shuttle – Low Orbit, Driftlock Pattern – Antarran Station Z-95

Dray watched the green confirmation pulse bloom across her console. Node Three: breached.

She said nothing for several seconds, her gaze locked on the lines of code scrolling down the tactical overlay. The infiltration path—every checkpoint, every risk—had been executed with precision. Not textbook. Better. It wasn’t just technique; it was instinct layered over discipline. Reckless, perhaps. But effective.

A slow breath escaped her nose. Not relief.

Satisfaction. For Dray it confirmed her own prowess in assigning people to missions.

Her fingers hovered over the comms toggle. Then she tapped it once.

"I am always difficult to impress, Voss." Her voice was as even as ever—smooth and cool—but something in the cadence curled, like silk twisted at the edge of a glove. "And yet here I am, wondering how you keep doing it."

Another pause.

"The terminal you are assigned to spike should be two floors down, Sector Epsilon-Twelve. Maintenance level. Utility corridor should open into an auxiliary hub—dead zone for their internal surveillance net."

Dray shifted forward slightly in her seat, one gloved hand resting along the edge of the console.

"You’ll find the port behind a locked intake hatch. Manual override. Encrypted. Might take you..." she trailed off, then added with a tone that was just a little too smooth, "...two minutes. Or ten, if you're still winded."

A soft click. Silence.

Then her voice returned, quieter. Closer.

"And Jara... if you get through this without tripping any alarms..." A pause, razor-thin. Calculated. Just long enough to make the pulse jump.

"I might just owe you that drink. And something dangerously close to sincerity."

The line held for a second longer than it needed to. In that moment, only Dray's breathing could be heard.

Then it cut.
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Top Bottom