Author's Note: Just some headcanon for my F!Trooper and Jonas Balkar. I don't pair my trooper with Jorgan, they're just sister and brother at arms, I guess? Anyways, this potentially will have another chapter. The title's a spin off of The Spy Who Came in From the Cold, a Cold War novel... ha ha ha, aren't I clever? Because SWTOR's story is about the Cold War between the Empire and the Republic... yeah, I'm clever. I apologize for any typos! I'm fixing them as I write this.
She didn't mean to agree to the meeting with Balkar as a means of escaping the other members of Havoc Squad. It was just supposed to be a break, away from her duties. Hearing Dorne spout regulations and rules, hearing Jorgan talk about fixing up his quarters and complaining about Dorne going on about violations in their quarters, what he shouldn't, and what he didn't have, and hearing Forex go on about Imp scum became overwhelming after awhile. They were on Nar Shaddaa, away from the mess, on a brief shore leave. She told them she was going out for herself. She didn't expect it to become anything spectacular.
She went alone to the promenade, alone to the market, and walked around. Had any other soldiers been walking around and seen her, they would have never known that she was the commander of Havoc Squad, the Republic's best.
Her shoulder length black hair was loose, finally free from a pony-tail. She wore a plain brown dress and dark grey robes over it. She wore no make-up as always. She would have looked like any other average citizen going out for a stroll had it not been for the brutal burn scars on the side of her face and neck that pointed to a life of battle. There was also a concealed blaster strapped to her hip, but most civilians carried weaponry anyways for their own safety.
She was looking at gifts for her squad-mates, a reward for jobs well done, when her holocom began to beep in her robes' pocket. She moved away from the vendors, sat down at a nearby table by the large golden Hutt statue, and sighed. She worried that it would be Jorgan or Garza, alerting her that their leave was about to end on a short notice.
So when she saw Jonas Balkar on the other end, she was pleasantly surprised. She smiled and looked at the holocom's relay.
"Hey there, nice to see you Lieutenant." He smiled.
"I'm on leave for the time being, Balkar. Call me Jeste."
"Well alright then, I'd tell you to call me by my own first name, too, but I'm dealing with a situation."
"Yeah?" She raised a brow and had a knowing feeling in her stomach. She knew where this was going.
"I need your help."
"Yeah, I figured."
"Well, don't worry. It involves an actual party this time."
She laughed. "Well, I just can't say no to you."
"I need a bodyguard while I do some undercover work. There's going to be some Imperials present at this party being put on by the Hutts, and I don't want to go without being prepared. You'll have to be undercover with me. Make them think I'm a wealthy business owner, Balkar Interior Refurbishments as you know, who wants to sell them some furniture. You know how the Hutts and the Sith like their ergonomic chairs."
"Really? Still with the furniture salesman getup?"
"It was either that or Hutt skin rash cream. Crew and I chose the lesser of the two evils."
She nodded with a grin. "What kind of intelligence are you looking for?"
"I can't explain it all now, I'm preparing. I'll send the coordinates to my room at the cantina, because I have a few spare civilian outfits in my storage locker if you need one. Otherwise, meet me at the Star Cluster Casino. Talk to you then."
"Will do."
Jeste turned off the com and rubbed her neck. She wondered what Balkar was getting himself into now, and more importantly, what she was agreeing to. She stood up and headed to the market again. She had seen a dress earlier, and had wanted to buy it just to have it, even though she knew that she likely would never wear it. But now she had a reason to want it.
The Star Cluster Casino. It wasn't a hive of scum and villainy like Tatooine, but it was definitely a close runner up. It didn't take long for her to get dressed and take a speeder to the floating casino in Nar Shaddaa's burnt out sky.
She was never one for speculation or day-dreaming, but Jeste couldn't help but wonder about her friendly SIS contact. They worked well together. They did their jobs with precision, care, and determination. He risked his position to help Jorgan find his comrades. He risked just about as much as she did on their missions. He wasn't afraid of sacrifice. None of them could really be afraid of it. Jeste always looked for a better solution, one that saved lives. She did what most other soldiers shouldn't do: she trusted her mind, her heart, and then her orders, though the lines that separated the two were not carved into stone, nor did they always go in that order. She wanted to believe that in the end, more than just the means would justify the ends. She didn't want to be heartless. She didn't want to be a drone.
So Jeste trusted Jonas Balkar, just as she hoped that he trusted her on their missions. She believed in the art of communication, that communication could save lives, not blaster fire. She disobeyed orders if it meant providing clarity and quality in a mission, not just efficiency. Of course, this reasoning usually caused quarrels with her commanding officer, Garza. Jeste tried to believe that she always did the right thing.
Having arrived at her destination, Jeste chose to put the thoughts aside. She needed to focus on the matter at hand: finding Jonas and helping him with his undercover work. She stepped out of the yellow speeder and adjusted her gown. It was a long, sleeveless, dark green dress that fell to her ankles. It loosely hugged her frame below the bodice. There was a small blaster strapped to her lower calf by a holster; she hoped she wouldn't need to use it. Her hair still fell loosely from her shoulders, if not for a few strands tucked behind her ears.
She saw Jonas leaning against one of the nearby metal beams, waiting for her, amongst the crowd. She swallowed down apprehension as best as she could−he looked handsome, as he always did for a spy. There was always a sense of mystery to him, though Jeste couldn't place her finger on what made him so alluring to her that she was willing to flirt with him so brashly. Without further hesitation, she walked over to him and he stood up straight, having found her in the crowd of patrons to the casino. They met each other halfway.
He wore a more formal version of his everyday garb: a dark green jacket over a cream colored tunic and brown leather pants and boots. His hair was combed and he wore some kind of cologne, though she couldn't name the scent without knowing more about the product's usual selections.
"Glad you could make it."
"I never turn down an excuse to wear something other than my standard issue armor." She smiled and stood akimbo.
"Well, the party's about to formally start in about ten minutes or so. It's up in the penthouse." He gestured for her to follow as they began to make their way into the casino. "I need to gather information about who's buying what from whom on this planet. I've noticed some recent activity between the other partygoers and our other green, slimy hosts."
She assumed he was talking about the Imperials and the Hutts.
"Yeah?"
"I need to know if our guests have made a contract with the Hutts. You know that would be bad for business. The Hutt's have to want my furniture, you know. Can't risk losing the Hutt's as a business partner. A lot of my sales are from them."
Jeste nodded, but asked, "So the Hutts made a deal with the other businessmen."
"Exactly," he glanced at her. "And that's bad for everyone, even if the other businessmen think they're giving a good bargain."
"So you're going to hear what the other businessmen are doing, and you're going to try to convince the Hutts to buy your furniture again?"
"Not exactly. I just sell furniture. I don't write up the contracts."
The Hutts had made a loose alliance with the Imperials. He needed to know the specifics of the agreement, like if supplies were being given, if aide was being given, anything and everything.
"And this is the Hutts' party, right?"
"Correct. They invited a variety of businessmen."
"And you're selling to both sides, right?"
"Yes and no. I'll talk to the other businessmen, see what else they're selling. Be mindful though, some of the other businessmen might not really be furniture salesmen, but actually Hutt skin cream salesmen."
She interpreted that as agents of Imperial Intelligence also undercover.
"And how do I fit in?"
"Wife or girlfriend. Pick your poison, Jeste."
"Depends on the dosage," she grinned and offered a quick wink. He smiled in turn. "Wife might be less conspicuous than girlfriend. Who brings a girlfriend to a business meeting?"
"It's an actual party, too, don't forget."
"How did we meet?"
"You're a mechanic. You fixed my speeder. We hit it off."
"How long have we been together?"
"That all depends on the dosage, sweetheart."
"I think a drop's just as potent as a gulp."
Jonas laughed. "Speaking of which, I see you chose one of your own outfits. Looks nice on you. Better than anything I had in my locker by far."
"It's definitely a change from wearing dirty, heavy mechanic... clothes."
"I can imagine." He leaned closer to her ear and asked, "To be clear, I'll only hold your hand or kiss your forehead to play the part, if that's alright with you."
"You wouldn't be much of a husband if you did only that."
He smirked and as they approached the elevator, she took the opportunity to take his hand in her own. Once inside the elevator with the doors, she wasn't sure who leaned in first or pulled the other towards them first, but before Jeste had a chance to close her eyes, they were pressed against one another, taking the opportunity to kiss while they still had it. She didn't realize how inflamed the kiss would make her until after they had parted as they approached the top penthouse floor. She was also nervous. She knew how volatile undercover work could be.
"Just relax." He reassured her. "If you get lost in it all, follow my lead. It's all just a big opera, that's all."
Jeste didn't know that undercover work could be so difficult. She was used to following orders, of having one goal in mind: success, if possible. But this was different; there wasn't a specific means to an end. The end wasn't set in stone. On top of this, she worried that she would lose track of the facts of her so called relationship. So, she stayed close to Jonas and appreciated his reassuring presence. It wasn't necessary to speak; she was his bodyguard ultimately.
There was a mysterious sense of risk and a different kind of adrenaline that energized her: a coupling of nervousness and fascination. As alarming as it also was, being someone else, participating in a different reality felt liberating after the anxiety slowly dissipated.
Although she had dealt with Imperials in battle, she had never taken note of what could be "noticeably" Imperial, besides the distinct accent. Accents could be made or destroyed. She presumed Jonas could spot them better than she could. She had no idea who was really a businessman and who was a "businessman" at the party.
It had all the requirements for a(n) (in)decent Hutt party. A band, low lights, ardees, pipes, hidden motives- though the Hutts were never stupid. They knew this was more than a harmless ordeal between businessmen, no they knew quite well that underhanded diplomacy and spying were in the works as well. They simply just enjoyed the thrill. Perhaps everyone did to a degree.
Jeste, Jonas, and another businessman sat at a table, chatting casually about some topic that really didn't matter. She wondered if he recognized any of these people, or perhaps had conducted "business" with them before.
"So I told that greasy slime of a Hutt that I can't run off and do his dirty work anymore,
I've got a family and kids to look after on this rotten planet." A man said to Jonas before taking a drink from his glass. He gestured lackadaisically as he spoke, "You know, it's been awhile that I've seen you, Jonas. How's the business going for yourself?"
"You know how it is. It comes and goes. I've been settling down a bit myself."
"Yeah? Is this here lady your gal?"
"I'm his wife," Jeste corrected.
"Jonas Balkar? Married? Well when were you going to tell me, huh?"
"It was just a quiet ordeal, you know. We're both so busy."
"Well, I'll be damned. I'm happy to hear that you've settled down. Hopefully you'll get the chance to move your business somewhere other than this planet. It's not good for families. Ever thought of going off-planet?"
"Who says we've settled down? It's a crazy galaxy out there. I doubt it's any better off-planet."
"Oh, I don't know, hunny." She interrupted her 'husband.' "Hutta's just beautiful in the Spring. I can see it now. Two kids, the toxic fumes, oh, it'll be lovely."
Jonas laughed with a wide grin. He leaned closer to her and said, "If it's toxic fumes you want, there's always Taris."
"Oh, Jonas. You know me too well. How did you know I always wanted to live on a half-destroyed, toxic planet?"
"You two have a dark sense of humor."
Jeste shrugged and folded her hands on the table. Her lips quirked into a dark smile. "You said it yourself. It's a crazy galaxy. Have to find humor in every corner of it, somehow."
The night was tame − as tame as Hutt parties could be, until her services were needed.
Jonas was talking with a man who distinctly was an Imperial−he didn't bother to hide his accent- and the Hutt hosting the party. The man was a diplomat for the Empire and he wore formal robes. His haughtiness made the hardened trooper want to gag. She thought his attempts at one-ing up Jonas in the eyes of the Hutt present was borderline hilarious. She hoped the Republic didn't grovel like this man did.
"My good Bareesh, please, you know that the Empire is the better investment overall, why invest in the Republic? They waste millions of credits on saving backwater planets inhabited by inferior species. Like the Evocii. Imagine their wasted efforts on Taris, and recently Balmorra. Do you really want to invest in failure?"
Jeste narrowed her brows and clenched her fist.
"On Taris it's the Cathar, Balmorra it's the Resistance, Nar Shaddaa, the Evocii. Do you really want to invest in the pathetic? It's your credits, my honorable Hutt."
The Hutt scratched his sixth or seventh chin as it stared down at the Imperial.
"You make reasonable argument. Republic is known to be wasteful."
She scoffed and made a low laugh, which made heads turn towards her. The Imperial glared at her, but upon seeing her seething form, he smirked.
"Oh Mr. Balkar, don't tell me your wife is sympathetic with the Republic. That's dangerous for business, you know."
"At least the Republic fights its battles honestly and cleans up the mess afterwards. We," she caught herself abruptly, "I mean, they, don't nuke planets full of innocent people."
"Hm, yes. If you are indeed referring to Taris, might I point out how pathetic the reconstruction efforts are? How many millions of credits has the Republic wasted? How many lives have you casually played with?"
"Excuse me? Playing with lives? You're one to talk! Taris is overrun by rakghouls, those soldiers and the reconstruction team are dealing with a disease they can hardly control!"
"Yes, and yet the Republic continues to attempt colonization." He rolled his eyes. "Balkar, do contain your wife."
"The Republic stands as a beacon of hope! And the Imperials? A backstabbing, lying bunch of psychopaths who think that genocide and manipulation is the means to success. The end justifies the means with the Empire. They waste credits just as much, if not more. Success at all costs!"
"Jeste−" Jonas started, but was interrupted by her again.
"If you want honest business, always pick the Republic."
"Hm. Woman makes a strong point. Looking to change the reputation of my business endeavors."
"Oh, please, don't listen to this woman's trifling commentary. They spout that they are honest, but they make backhanded deals just as often as a gangster. And they still do it poorly. I already told you, sacrificing efficiency for inferior species that deserve to be kept on a short leash. Don't you need new workers for your factories?"
"That's just sickening! You Imperials all the same, all just..." She trailed off, too stunned to find the right words. Jonas placed a firm, warning hand on her shoulder. He squeezed twice, in an attempt to calm her down.
"Just what, my dear?"
"Just slimy sons of Hu−"
Jonas cleared his throat and placed a hand over Jeste's mouth to stop her from talking. "Look, we really ought to be leaving. It's been a pleasure, Bareesh."
He removed his hand, took her own, and guided her up from her seat. The Imperial diplomat laughed mockingly with a broad smirk. Jeste wanted to wipe it off of his smug Imperial face. If only I had my assault canon!
He pulled her away from the party, back towards the elevator. She was fuming with anger and spite. She clenched and unclenched her hands. He pulled her into the elevator and slammed his fist against the down arrow button. Once the door shut, Jonas turned to her and sighed. She closed her eyes and forced herself to calm down with a few slow breaths.
They stood in silence. It didn't take her long to feel guilty and ashamed for failing him. She knew that she should have stayed silent. But silence was difficult to bear with Imperials.
"Look, Jonas, I−"
"Don't worry about it."
"I'm serious," she said. She could tell that he was disappointed. "Please, let me finish. I'm so sorry for that. Gosh, I just... That man!" She shook her head and had to restrain her anger. "He just..."
"Don't worry about it. I got plenty of intel."
"I... There's a reason I'm a soldier and not a spy."
"Trust me, I've wanted to hit plenty of people over the years. You grow used to it and you hold back."
"I just couldn't sit there and listen to him. Not when he talked about genocide as if it's nothing. I... Jonas, you know what the Empire did on Nar Shaddaa. I-I saw those bodies in the lower sector. The Evocii. I couldn't not say anything. You know that's not who I am." She frowned and shrugged her shoulders. "And the Cathar. It made me think of Jorgan, that's all. He's a part of my squad. He's a soldier. He−"
"I know."
"I should have just kept my mouth shut. I comprised my cover, your cover more importantly!" She pounded her fist against the metal wall of the elevator and it echoed in the shaft. "But it's hard! I have no idea how you can do that. Pretend you're someone else. How do you sit through it? When he put down the work of the soldier or the civilians who stand against the other side, I couldn't listen to it for one more moment. I would have yelled my ass off at him had you not stopped me."
"As I said, you shift personas. It's a show, remember?"
"I... I guess." She hesitated before walking out of the elevator beside him after it stopped. "I guess I should be commending you for your brilliant dexterity."
He laughed. "It just takes practice."
"Are you sure you got everything you needed?"
He stopped walking and turned to look at her. "Yeah, I'm sure." He smiled and patted her shoulder. "I gathered plenty of intel. I was planning on leaving soon anyways."
"Alright. Well, then I'm glad you got what you needed." She felt a little better. "Do you want to grab a drink?"
She nodded but rubbed the bridge of her nose. He shrugged and lead the way. "You did good, Jeste. You did what I asked you to do."
"Alright."
"So let's enjoy a drink, alright?" He paused and grinned. "Husband and wife?"
She laughed lightly. "Yeah, yeah. Let's go grab something. You ought to take your wife out on more dates, you know?"
"I guess I'll have to try to arrange them more often."