The Star Wars universe is owned by George Lucas. Wes and Hobbie were created by Michael Stackpole in the X-Wing novels and comics. Further specific background material regarding Ralltiir, Governor Dennix Graeber, the Resistance leader Jerrell and his unnamed second daughter, and a Resistance fighter named Spike comes from "The First Core World," Heroes & Rogues, West End Games, 1995 and "Into the Core Worlds," by Paul Sudlow, Star Wars Adventure Journal, Vol 1, No. 7, West End Games, 1995.

(Be warned: this story turned out a little more Harlequin Romance than I wanted it to be. But what can I say? It's a guilty pleasure and I don't want to scrap it. Also - the story is finished, but it's not finished the way I originally intended it to be. It's definitely not an ending that fits canon. It was always intended to have a tragic ending, but every good romance requires a "happily ever after" doesn't it? Turns out I am a wimp who just couldn't kill off her own characters...)

Circa 1ABY: A few months after the Battle of Yavin, immediately before the Ralltiir scenarios in Rogue Squadron III: Rebel Strike…

-oOo-

"C'mon, Nya, we need a break." Spike groused at me as she got up to throw her empty caf cup into the cleanser, unconcerned with the drops that splattered across the floor. "You've been buried in that stang datascreen for six hours now and this holo-sim is boring me to tears. Let's do something fun!"

"This is fun," I said patiently. Rinni Spikkoli – better known as Spike to her friends, her enemies and just about anyone who dared speak to her - was a woman of decisive action and had no appreciation for my kind of excitement. "Besides, I just made it in and stole all the goodies. I'm still unwrapping them."

Spike started jogging in place and doing stretches in the kitchen. "C'mon! I'm going to fall asleep and waste all this wonderful free time our beloved Emperor so graciously affords his lowly Privates."

"Don't mention him," I growled. "You'll spoil my dinner." I stabbed the datapad interface peevishly, unpacking the last file I had swiped out of Maar's so-called private account. I allowed myself a mental sneer at my boss's incompetence. It shouldn't have been so easy to slice his commail and datafiles, but I guess intelligence never was a job requirement in the Imperial Navy. Unfortunately, none of these files told me what I needed to know.

"What dinner? I'm starving. You didn't even notice it's time to eat." Spike was good at pouting, but the truth was she was right. I hadn't. The twist in my stomach at her mention of food reminded me that even my skinny bones needed a little bit of nourishment now and then.

"Well, I am hungry." I admitted. "And I'm a little stumped at the moment. I need to come up with another approach."

Spike grinned, pressing her attack. "I have found that a good method of generating new ideas is to not think about anything for awhile."

I peered at her from behind my datapad and wrinkled my nose doubtfully at her. "Is that why you do it so often?"

Spike didn't bat an eye at the sour jab. "It'll do you good to get your mind off of it."

I thought about it for a moment, wondering what my father would do if he hit a dead end. What was it he said? If the data doesn't tell you what you need to know, go to the source of the data. Well, talking to Maar about it was out, but I decided I could set a trace analytics program running and by the time we got back from dinner, it would be done and I would have plenty to chew on for the rest of the night.

"And when you come back fresh, I'm sure you'll find the evidence to send that… Hutt slime… to Kessel… for a very… long… time." Spike was doing push-ups on the floor.

I snorted. "I've had that for a while. Not that the Empire will ever do anything about it." I pointed at the holo display showing a list of cargos and manifests from the spaceport. "He has to be getting this information from somewhere. Maar's just an unimaginative desk jockey, albeit a venal one. He couldn't slice this on his own. Besides, he wouldn't know what to do with it even if he could. Somebody higher up is calling all the shots, I know it."

"No spit? Imagine that. Imperial corruption. Who'd of thunk it?" Spike's sarcasm could slice a nerf steak.

I sighed deeply, unsure if she was trying to make a point about my decision to pursue Maar. This was our first derivation off-mission and while I had to give her credit for not questioning my call, I could tell she would have made a different choice were it up to her. "I have to do what I can, Spike."

She was right, though. The corruption within the Empire seemed to be inexhaustible. Corrupt officials created corrupt policies that corrupted the average government worker trying to crawl their way to the top of the corrupt trash pile. If I thought about it too much I would probably literally fall over from the dizziness. But it was just too depressing to look the other way when it was happening right in front of me.

"Just do what you think is right, but keep in mind we need to be moving on soon." Spike was busy finishing her stretches and I didn't think she had noticed my defensive tone. "And don't let my cynicism get you. You know I got your back."

Comments like that always reminded me why Spike and I were friends instead of just partners. Maybe she was rough and boisterous, but she was also the most loyal and supportive person I had ever met. My father had chosen our team well.

I set the trace analytics running and then secured the interface with my own encryption algorithm. I stood and stretched away the tension that had built up. My scalp itched and I realized that my hair was once again frizzing horribly out of control. I cursed the baby fine hair I'd never grown out of. I'd take shiny, thick black hair like Spike's any day over this white-blonde wimpy mess.

"I guess I could do with some cleaning up, but I'm not much in the mood for your so-called fun," I warned Spike.

"The least we can do is get a bite to eat and a little lomin ale to wash it down. Who knows? Maybe we can even get lucky." Spike grinned and waggled her eyebrows at me, her mind quickly focusing on her favorite pastime.

I groaned. "You are such a horn dog." I trotted back toward the 'fresher we shared in our apartment. It wasn't far. The apartment was tiny, but at least it was private. I never could have conducted the analysis of the files if I lived in the barracks. I had made sure that my status as Assistant Logistics Clerk to the Imperial Garrison Commander gave me certain privileges – this apartment being one of them.

"It's effective stress relief!" Spike yelled at me from the kitchen. "All the holo-rags recommend it!"

-ooOoo-

An hour later Spike and I headed out the door anticipating an evening of relaxation and fun. At least, Spike was anticipating fun and relaxation. I was trying to but if I was honest, I'd have to admit my brain was still grinding through the maze of requisitions, invoices, transit documents and inventory lists that I had pilfered off of Sgt. Maar's private comm accounts.

Spike was much better at compartmentalizing than I was. In boot camp, she was the one to blow off the verbal taunts and harsh treatment while I stewed for days. It wasn't easy being a female in the Imperial Navy and I had wanted so badly to prove I could do it. The truth was I don't think I would have made it six weeks if it hadn't been for Spike calming me, cajoling me, encouraging me. I owed her big time.

"Let's go to Dead End Cantina." Spike suggested as we hailed the nearest autocab.

I looked at her in astonishment. I didn't owe her that much!

"Oh, c'mon, Nya." Spike used her best coaxing voice. "Where's your sense of adventure? Live in the moment, I always say!" She laughed teasingly at me, her tongue literally and figuratively in her cheek.

"We're not living dangerously enough for you?" I growled incredulously. "There's smugglers and bounty hunters and… and lowlifes there!"

Spike grinned. "Yeah!"

"Spike!" I had put up with a lot from Rinni Spikkoli. She had dragged me to innumerable parties, talked me into playing practical jokes on admittedly deserving colleagues, and introduced me to the fine art of creative cursing. I had even learned to enjoy most of it. But this…

"I just think we need to get away from the Imperial Garrison." She was using her I'm-the-tactical-security-expert-here voice now. "I'm sick and tired of their hypocritical elitism. Give me an honest to goodness lowlife any day. Believe it or not, I'll feel safer away from the Garrison tonight."

The autocab arrived just at that moment and we climbed in. I grabbed the navpanel before Spike could and punched in the Market District.

"I see your point, Spike, but there is no way I'm going to Dead End Cantina. That place makes me nervous. There are plenty of seedy civilian joints we can go to and find hot non-Imperial lowlifes."

"Fine. You're such a spoilsport." Spike leaned back with mock indignation. We made a good team. She stretched the boundaries and I kept them from breaking. I'm pretty sure she recognized that. "Market District it is."

The Market District on Albecus consisted of a large open-air field full of tents and tables that were more or less permanent, depending on the season, the vendor and the mood of the local marshalls. It would be closing up now with all the tents being shuttered and the tables magically emptying for the night, but the action was only moving, not ceasing.

Surrounding the central field on three sides were old buildings, many dating back to the Old Republic era. A strip about three or four streets deep was comprised almost entirely of dining, drinking and assorted entertainment establishments.

I'd been here once or twice with Spike before and I knew it was unlikely we would run into Imperial soldiers in those establishments. At least, none that would admit they were Imperial soldiers. The fourth side of the Market District was the Albecus Primary Spaceport… and that meant all manner of beings congregated in the Market District after they docked from whatever far-flung planet they hailed. Proper Imperials stayed away because of all the non-humans. It wasn't officially off limits or anything, but Spike and I understood the message early in our training. Humans ruled the Empire and didn't mix with non-humans.

"That looks good." Spike pointed to a building at the end of the street. The neon lights above the doors screamed the name of the establishment and loud techno music pulsated from the door. Humans mixed with Twi'leks, Ithorians, Bothans, and even a few Rodians outside the building, waiting to be let in. It looked like a popular spot.

"Maybe later," I said. "First I'm hungry." I stopped the autocab a few buildings short of the nightclub and tapped my cred code into the navpanel. "And you're buying."

Spike grunted but got out of the autocab smiling. She looked down at the nightclub with eager anticipation then followed me into the tapcafé I had chosen. The plastiscreen in the window advertised a wide menu of human and Ithorian quisine and had an ale list a parsec long. Just what I needed.

The tapcafé was narrow but deep. The patrons appeared to be mostly Ithorians but several humans were interspersed in the groups. There was very little chance any of them were Imps. A bar ran down one side with holopanels lining the wall behind it showing everything from the local shockball teams to Mon Cal opera. The unique stereophonic vocalizations of Ithorians vibrated the air around me and penetrated my skin pleasantly, producing a slight tingling sensation that I found quite soothing. Booths ran the length of the establishment on the other side with tables crowded in between. All the tables were occupied so I hoped that meant the food was good.

We took a seat in an unoccupied booth toward the rear. As usual, Spike insisted on sitting where she could see the door. I had long since learned to comply with her security precautions.

The baked fuli grass was particularly good. Being partial to non-carnivore meals myself, I always enjoyed authentic Ithorian dishes. I was halfway through and nursing my second lomin ale when Spike let out a piercing squeal that nearly caused me to choke.

"What? What?" My heart thumped explosively and adrenalin surged my senses. My first thought was that she was hurt somehow.

She didn't look hurt. Spike's face was lit with the biggest grin I had seen on her face since she won the ale chugging contest at basic, beating all those arrogant, smug excuses for men that the Empire was training for Stormtroopers. This time, though, the grin wasn't followed immediately by her eyes rolling back in her head and her body going thunk on the ground as she passed out.

Spike squealed again as she jumped up from the booth. Her wide eyes were fixed on the entrance to the tapcafe. I twisted in my seat as she suddenly bounded down the narrow corridor between the bar and the tables. Belatedly, my hand went to my holdout blaster as I guiltily realized I should be prepared for anything.

I followed her down the crowded aisle and watched her jump full body onto a wiry man that had just entered the tapcafe. He was grinning, too - an adorably lopsided grin full of genuine affection and indulgent delight at seeing Spike. It was the kind of smile that brought pressure to the back of my throat wishing it was directed at me.

"Hobbie!" she screamed as he let out an oomph and crouched slightly to support her weight, just barely preventing them from falling ignominiously on the floor. Spike's legs encircled his waist and she smothered his face with loud, smacking kisses. The man had his hands full of a giggling, bouncing, squealing Spike but he was laughing and hugging her back.

I was relieved that she obviously knew this guy and she wasn't crazy, but jeesh, Spike can make such a scene! I discreetly replaced my small holdout blaster, chagrined by the shakiness I felt. I had been trained for situations like this but until now, I had never actually had cause to test that training.

Despite my embarrassment I noticed that Spike's friend also had company. A dark haired man stood a step behind them with a rakish grin matching Spike's on her best day. His square jaw and broad shoulders were carried with a cocksure ease that screamed "Party Boy" with capital P, capital B.

Exactly the kind of guy Spike liked.

Just great, I thought with a dramatic surge of self-pity. Two guys for Spike and none for me. This was Spike's revenge for failing to be ready to back her up, a sardonic voice said in the back of my mind.

It was just as well. Part of my brain was still trying to decipher the puzzle of Maar's files. I'd be perfectly content to cuddle up with my datapad all night and nothing more.

Sure I would.

"Rinni Spikkoli, get off me!" The man sounded annoyed but the effect was ruined by the lingering delight on his face. "You haven't changed a bit!"

"Derek Klivian, you stop your grumping right now and enjoy yourself!" Spike set her feet down on the ground but didn't release her hold on her friend. "Oh! I can't believe you're here!" She let out another squeal as she hugged him tight.

Her friend laughed at her excitement. "I can't believe you're here. What are you doing here?"

"I live here, you nerf herder. If you read your commail, you'd know that! Why don't you ever comm me?" Spike reached up and playfully patted his cheek before her eyes looked past him to the dark haired man looming cheerfully behind him.

"Well, hello, handsome. Are you with Hobbie?" Spike flirted shamelessly.

"Hell, no. Hobbie's with me." the dark haired man smirked.

"Is that so?" countered Spike. "So I have you to thank for bringing him here?"

"Yes, ma'am. Exactly." The man nodded his head vigorously. "You should thank me. You can thank me right now if you like." The man held his hands out in invitation.

Spike let out a loud, hearty laugh and slapped Hobbie on the shoulder. "I like this guy." She leaned in near Hobbie's ear and demanded, "Introduce me."

Hobbie sighed in resignation and for the first time I noticed that he was looking at me. Soulful brown eyes focused on me and my throat tightened at the appreciation I saw in them. Maybe there was something to be said for Spike's 'live in the moment' kind of fun after all.

I felt a flush of warmth on my cheeks and knew I was blushing. How embarrassing.

I blushed some more.

"Rinni Spikkoli, Wes Janson. Wes Janson, Rinni Spikkoli. Don't call her Rinni. She hates it. Everyone calls her Spike." Hobbie grabbed Spike's arms so he could move her bodily around him and back to where his friend Wes was. It also cleared the path between him and me. "Now introduce me to your friend."

Spike was busy cooing at Wes in greeting but she looked over her shoulder distractedly. "What? Oh, Nya, this is Derek Klivian. We call him Hobbie. Hobbie, this is Nya Ollinal." A subtle smirk replaced the grin she was wearing and she cocked her chin back toward us. "You two are my best friends in the whole world. You should really get to know each other." She turned back to the man named Wes Janson. "And I would really like to get to know you."

I intervened before the man could reply with what I was sure would be quite the suggestive come-back. "Why don't we all go sit down. We have a booth right back there. I'm sure you guys must have intended to dine?"

The men looked at each other briefly and nodded their agreement. They followed me back through the narrow path between the tables with Spike making sure she was directly in front of her chosen prey, doubtless so he could get a good look at her backside. I didn't think she would need to try very hard tonight, though. The guy looked like he was ready to jump her right there on the floor.

I, on the other hand, was studiously trying to avoid looking at this Hobbie guy so I could catch my breath. I felt his presence closely behind me, though, sparking tingles all the way down my neck and back that didn't help my efforts in the slightest.

I slid into the booth first and was surprised when Hobbie boldly sat beside me. Spike took the inside of the other bench with Wes beside her. A stab of trepidation spiked through me as it suddenly occurred to me that we were trapped in the booth. I hoped Spike knew this guy as well as she thought she did. Her best friend, she had said. And a delicious best friend he was indeed.

"So, Spike… he's your best friend?" I pointed at the dark blonde haired man beside me and wrinkled my nose at her teasingly. "How come you haven't mentioned him before?"

Beside me, Hobbie frowned. "You haven't mentioned me? Figures you'd forget about me." The man looked positively forlorn and I couldn't restrain the giggle that emerged.

"Sure, you remember, Nya. This is the Hobbie that set Director Cartligh's pet mynock loose in the Education Center's library and blamed me for it. I told you that story."

Hobbie sputtered beside me and his eyes shot arrows at Spike. "It was your fault! You said I was supposed to take it out to feed it and then you opened the doors for it!"

I looked at him thoughtfully and feigned a struggle to remember. "Is he the one who lost his pants to a wild canoid when you went hiking on Mt. Toosis and decided to take a dip in the mountain lake?"

Hobbie flushed a deep red and Wes let out a loud guffaw.

"Yep, he's the one!" Spike said in a deeply satisfied tone. "He had to walk all the way home in his underwear." She turned back to her friend. "See, Hobbie, I have talked about you!"

At Hobbie's groan, Spike impulsively reached across the table and grabbed his hand. "Oh, Hobbie! I've missed you so much! Where have you been?" she demanded. "Why haven't you commed me?"

For a moment, Hobbie looked uncomfortable and glanced at Wes for support. A look passed between them I caught but didn't understand. Then he relaxed and returned Spike's sentiment. "I've missed you too, Spike. I've been out of touch for awhile, I know. When did we see each other last? It's been two years or so, hasn't it?"

Spike nodded. "The last I heard you were having a great time at Prefsbelt Fleet Camp. Somebody told me you graduated at the top of your class. Then poof! I heard nothing. Are you serving the Empire in some classified capacity now? I'd understand if you tell me you can't talk about it."

I startled at that revelation and was immediately on edge. An Imperial agent? It would be a crying shame if this lovely man was an Imp loyalist – or worse, an Imperial agent.

Hobbie shook his head. "I don't work for the Empire anymore." He rubbed his left arm ruefully. "I had a few hard luck missions. Lost an arm and a leg and got a terrible infection. It took me several months to recover and by then the Empire wouldn't let me fly TIEs any more."

He looked at Spike pleadingly. "You know how I love to fly. I couldn't see pushing flimsi's around so I've been taking piloting jobs wherever I'm needed. That's why I've been out of touch."

It sounded like there was a lot more to that story but Spike let it pass.

Hobbie leaned back and smiled while waving jauntily at Wes. "This here is my gunner. Wes and I have had some pretty good adventures together. It's not like flying TIEs but we still get a kick out of it."

Spike's face was shocked as she reached over to touch his arm. "You lost an arm and a leg? Stang, Hobbie, why didn't you tell me? I'd have been there for you!" She grabbed at his arm to examine it closely. "I can't even tell. That's a pretty stang good prosthetic."

"Well, you had your own path by that time, didn't you?" Hobbie peered at her intently now. "You never could stand authority but now I hear you're some sort of Stormtrooper? How did that happen?"

Spike let out a very unladylike snort. "Who told you that load of mynock glop? Stormtrooper? As if!"

I waited expectantly to hear how she was going to play this. I trusted her to make the right decisions regarding our security. I tried to look supportive, hoping she understood I would follow her lead, wherever she took it.

She sighed deeply and I could see her forcibly calm herself. "You know the Empire accepts only the best and brightest for the Stormtrooper Corps. There are plenty of other ways women can honorably serve the Empire."

Hobbie's mouth hung open as he stared at Spike in disbelief. "You are Rinni Spikkoli, right? The same Rinni Spikkoli who beat the crap out of our star Shockball cornerback? The same Rinni Spikkoli who could shoot a flutterhawk in midflight from 100 meters away?"

"The same Rinni Spikkoli who believed the garbage the recruiter told her about noble and glorious service to the Empire!" she snapped back. "The same Rinni Spikkoli who fell for all the lies the Empire told! Big, fat, Hutt slime liars!"

I gasped at her outburst and kicked her vehemently under the table. "Ow!" she said grumpily. "Nya, what'd you do that for?"

I looked at the two men sitting next to us and was shocked to see satisfied expressions on their faces. "Spike honors the Empire, don't you, Spike?" I hurried to explain. "She means no disrespect. She's just had a very rough day and she gets snappy when she's hungry. Isn't that right, Spike?"

Spike sighed again and pushed her bangs out of her eyes. "It's alright, Nya. Hobbie knows what a mouth I have. He knows I just spout off in frustration."

"Now that's the Spike I know and love!" Hobbie nodded in agreement and smiled encouragingly. "Tell me what happened."

"It's all your fault, actually, Hobbie." Spike started. "You always drove yourself harder and had to be the best at everything you did. Then when I heard you were doing so well at Prefsbelt and there I was wasting away in a boring, dead end job, I decided I should try a little harder too. When the Empire secured Ralltiir I knew I needed to do what you did and join the effort to bring order and stability to this crazy universe."

"So I went to the recruiter and signed up for the Stormtrooper training. The recruiters encouraged me, told me I would be working with the best the Empire had to offer, promised I would be fighting for the glory of the Empire, and then stuck me as a doorman for impenetrable blocks of duracrete."

"I can barely say I'm a security guard since they don't even give me a decent weapon. More like a receptionist. I check ID's, keep a log of comings and goings and smile pretty when anybody important walks by. It's a load of bantha dung!" She finished in disgust.

"You don't even get a weapon?" Hobbie puzzled, sure he had seen her wearing one earlier.

"Not a real one." Spike pouted. "Oh how I miss my EE-3 carbine. These E-11's they give us troopers are just crap. One shot and their zero is frizzed. Now, my DL-44 blaster – that would be a worthy weapon! It can pierce heavy armor at 75 meters with an accuracy to match." She sighed and smiled sadly. "They promised to train me on a Deece Weapons System. That was what really sealed the deal for me. They lied about that, too."

At her side, Wes made a choking noise as he listened to her recital of her personal arms cache. "A weapons expert? You know blasters? Oh, be still my beating heart, I think I'm in love!"

I couldn't help it. I stifled a giggle as Spike turned her sultry almond eyes on him. Watching those two was going to be fun. I could tell already they were a perfect match.

"I wouldn't say expert since the Empire didn't live up to their end of the bargain and train me. More like… an enthusiast." She made a show of running her gaze contemplatively over his form, from his dark, slicked up hair to his broad shoulders and trim abs under the tight black t-shirt he wore. She let her gaze return only after being unable to continue further due to the intrusion of the table under which the rest of him was tucked. His delight at her blatant appraisal gleamed in his dark eyes and I could swear he was swaggering despite his seated position.

"So, you're Hobbie's gunner? Ship weapons are considerably bigger than hand blasters, aren't they?" The subtle challenge was not lost on Wes.

"The same principles apply," he agreed. "A steady hand on the trigger and a flawless sense of timing will prove the advantage every time."

I watched the banter between Spike and Wes, awestruck at their mutual command of the basic language in their pursuit of well-crafted sexual innuendos. I was pleased that she had found a kindred spirit with whom to discuss what I called her weapons fetish and their magnetic attraction to each other was ridiculously obvious, but I couldn't shake the worry about what these men weren't saying. I knew they were hiding something, I just didn't know what it was. I sighed as it occurred to me that everyone always had some sort of hidden agenda, even sexy childhood friends. What a depressing thought.

"Blaster love. Ain't it sweet?" Hobbie interrupted my reverie by leaning over and whispering to me.

His proximity impelled me to take a good look at him out of the corner of my eye. His dark blonde hair was short just like a TIE fighter pilot's would be. If he really wasn't in the service anymore he had at least kept the hair style. He had a pleasant face though. Not at all like the sneering, contemptuous faces I was used to seeing wear the uniform.

A strong jaw, heavy eyebrows and smoky brown eyes gave him a sincere, unpretentious look, though he did seem to wear an adorable perpetual pout. I noticed that the shirt he wore was tight enough to reveal lean yet strongly defined shoulder and pectoral muscles. There was absolutely no sense of imperiousness about him at all.

I relaxed and chuckled at his comment. "They do seem to be quite the pair, don't they? Spike always did know how to pick them." I was having a hard time imagining this likeable guy as an Imperial agent but better safe than sorry.

"Oh, I don't know. She's had her moments. That star Shockball cornerback she beat the crap out of? She really just wanted to dance with him but didn't know how to ask. So she picked a fight with him instead. Needless to say, she never did get to dance with him."

I snickered into my ale. "She has improved her approach a little bit since then, I guess. Though she still picks a good fight now and then, too." I tried not to smirk but couldn't resist. "We've had a lot of good times, together, Spike and me. She's a very good friend." I wanted to make my loyalty very clear.

"Yes, she is."

I wasn't sure whether he was trying to reassure me or if he was just making small talk so I decided this was a good time to probe for more information. "So, how long have you and Wes been friends?"

"For a while. He's a good guy."

"Do you trust him with Spike?"

Hobbie snorted. "I'm not sure which one of those two to warn about the other. They're two peas in a pod."

"They probably will be tonight, anyways." I couldn't help grinning lasciviously and it was Hobbie's turn to snicker in his drink.

"And what about you?" Hobbie turned his attention to me. "What do you do? How did you meet Spike?"

"Basic training." I gave him our rehearsed answer. "I'm from Ralltiir, too – Demilla City, near Salibury. We were the only two females in our training squad. She got me through some tough spots."

"And you work here on Albecus with her?"

"We signed up for the buddy program after basic training and have been here for a couple months now. I'm an assistant clerk in the Supply & Logistics office of the Imperial Albecus Command."

"A clerk, eh? What kind of clerk?"

"Oh, nothing special, really. Supply requisitions, parts fulfillment, invoices… stuff like that." I didn't want to talk about my job, especially not now. "I can't imagine how exciting it must be to be a pilot. You were a TIE pilot?" I made sure my eyes were wide with wonder and that he saw only the hero worship in them that the Imperial Propaganda Ministry encouraged.

"Not for long. Now it's mostly just freighters and shuttles and such."

"Still, it must be exciting."

"It can be. Wes and I have had run-ins with the occasional pirate and maybe even a planetary official or two. Though I'll deny I said that if you repeat it." His eyes twinkled but I could tell he was testing me.

If I was reading him right – which I think I was but couldn't be sure - he just admitted to doing some smuggling. That might explain what he was hiding. I wondered if he saw me as a threat since I was an Imperial trooper or whether he was testing my loyalty. I needed to talk to Spike and find out how much she trusted this guy.

But first, my curiosity got the better of me.

"What kind of cargo do you transport?"

"Just about anything anybody pays us to. Everything from droid parts to mulba wood to people. We've even hauled some Tattooine worms once. That's what we're doing on Albecus, actually. Picking up a load of those droid parts I was talking about."

That was interesting. The latest shipment Maar had scheduled was largely composed of droid parts. It could just be a coincidence, though. Droids were ubiquitous, after all. However, if Hobbie was a smuggler and he was hired to transport some of the missing supplies, then he might be able to shed some light on what was going on. If I could get his trust.

"Oh yeah? What kind?"

"GL-88 Gyro stabilizers. Why?"

"Like the kind used for binary loadlifters?"

"Yes, I think so. Again, why?"

"Oh, nothing. I've just been seeing a lot of those requisitions going through the office lately. I wish I knew what it meant."

"Why, is that unusual?" Hobbie was curious now.

"Where are you supposed to deliver it?"

"My, my, you are a curious one, aren't you?"

Oops. I smiled my most bubble-headed smile and nodded enthusiastically. I let a little giggle escape for good measure. "Um-hmm. I sure am! I just get so dreadfully bored with my job, I like to imagine what all those parts and cargo are being used for and where they are going. I've never been able to travel much. That was another reason I joined the Imperial Navy. I'd love to see Imperial Center, for example. Have you ever been there?"

Hobbie looked as if he didn't know quite what to think about me, but he went along with my change of subject. Maybe he thought I was weird. That was fine. Better that than the truth.

"Yes, once while at Prefsbelt we cadets were given an organized tour of Imperial Naval Headquarters. We even had an audience with the Emperor, along with about 5,000 other people."

I gasped. "The Emperor? How was that?" I couldn't stop the shudder before it got out. I hoped Hobbie didn't notice how much the Emperor scared me. He was just the creepiest being I had ever seen. Something just wasn't right about him.

Hobbie was looking at me carefully. His face wore a careful mask of neutrality. "Oh, you know. There were so many people, it wasn't much different than seeing him on the holonews." He cocked his head curiously. "You don't like the Emperor?"

Gulp. Now I was in trouble. "Hush your mouth!" I slapped him playfully on the arm. "I absolutely honor our great Emperor. The New Order has saved the galaxy from chaos and war. I serve the Empire with gratitude." I spoke the platitudes I had forced myself to memorize.

The waitdroid arrived with the dinners at that moment and saved me from my ineptitude. I was so grateful for the distraction that I forced down more appetizers despite being full and washed it down with another whole ale – which gave me a good excuse to speak privately with Spike.

"I have to hit the 'fresher. Spike?" My eyes pleaded with her to go with me.

"Sure," she said. Wes and Hobbie slid out of the booth and let us ladies pass. Wes gave Spike a pat on the butt as she did and Spike giggled in response, but Hobbie stood way back from me. He probably thought I was a nutcase.

The 'fresher was empty so thankfully we could talk freely. I turned on her immediately.

"How much do you trust him?" I demanded urgently.

"Relax." Spike was distracted, probably with thoughts of Wes. "We're safe."

I slumped back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling in frustration.

"Great stars, Spike, he's gorgeous but I'm sure he thinks I'm a total dork." I admitted. "Plus I think he's hiding something."

"I know." Spike said simply, as she primped in the mirror.

"You know?"

Spike stopped adjusting her makeup and looked at me in the mirror. "I can read Hobbie like a book, even after all this time. He's not a very guileful man." She shrugged. "I'm sure he has a good reason."

"You trust him then? You believe his story? You don't think he's an Imperial spy testing our loyalty?" I gulped the questions rapidly.

Spike laughed merrily. I could tell the lomin ale was buzzing her. "Hobbie? No, I guarantee you he is not an Imperial spy so stop worrying about that."

She paused thoughtfully. "He can lie, though, when he needs to. There was this time in Upper Ed class that he had the teacher believing that his household servant droid had malfunctioned and eaten his assigned projects three times in a row." She laughed again before getting serious. "I'm not sure what his full story is but I trust him. He would never betray me – or you. He really was my best friend. We went through a lot together."

I looked sideways at her. "He hinted that he might be smuggling."

"Really?" Spike's face lit up impishly. "I like that idea."

"Spike!"

When she just kept on smiling, I continued. "He might be carrying some of the missing shipments I've been tracking."

"You think he's working for Maar?" That made her frown.

"I have no idea. That's the problem. I'm just sure they're hiding something."

"You like him?" Spike asked hopefully. "I think he likes you."

"Stop changing the subject. Besides, I doubt that." I was embarrassed now. "He mentioned the Emperor and I turned into a big goofy gungan. You know I'm no good at this flirting thing. He didn't even try to cop a feel when I got out of the booth."

"Yep, that's my Hobbie. He's a gentleman, Nya. That's why I thought you two would hit it off. You're both such serious, honorable people. Blech! Give me a bawdy gunner any day!" Spike's eyes glazed over as her eyebrows waggled up and down. "I like this Wes guy – a lot. I hope he's as good in bed as he thinks he is."

"Spike!" I rolled my eyes. "You are such a horn dog!"

"Look, Nya, we're safe. I trust Hobbie and he trusts his friend, so I'm not worried about it. Just relax and enjoy the moment. Don't mention what we've been doing and it shouldn't be a problem." She turned and grabbed me by the shoulders. "I would like to have a nice evening with them and then we can corner them tomorrow about it. Tomorrow morning. At our place."

I got the picture. "I don't think Hobbie's that interested in me and I'm certainly not going to throw myself at him, but he can sleep on the couch if you like." I grumped. "That puts my analysis back some since I won't be able to look at it until they are gone."

"That's my girl." Spike smiled at me and then squealed with excitement. I grinned. How could I begrudge her some harmless fun?

"You really do like this guy, don't you?" I laughed at her emphatically nodding head all the way back to the booth.

Spike didn't give Wes a chance to get up and let her in, but instead climbed right over him to get to her seat. I heard a muttered "Stang, girl!" and a returning mock innocent "What?" before I turned away, unsuccessfully trying to smother a smile.

Hobbie had already stood up from the bench, but he was holding his hand out to assist me in getting back into the booth. I took it and was surprised at the warmth that radiated from his touch. He smelled nice, too. He had that faintly ionized smell many pilots seemed to have overlaid with a basic clean, soap smell. I wanted to pause for a moment and enjoy his scent but that would have just been too weird so I scooted over and settled back into the seat.

Looking down at the empty table, I asked, "Did the waitdroid remove the food already? Do we want desert?"

"I want to go down to the nightclub down the street." Spike shimmied in her seat, bumping suggestively against Wes.

I groaned. "Couldn't we just get a few more drinks here?" I didn't relish the idea of dancing awkwardly with Hobbie out of obligation while Spike and Wes flirted, or worse yet – watching Hobbie pick up somebody else while I sat alone. Despite my friendship with Spike, our approaches to men were drastically different. Essentially, I didn't have one.

"I'll go if Nya will dance with me." Hobbie offered.

"Really? You want to dance with me?"

Spike burst out laughing. "Nya, you're hopeless!" she snickered. "Let's get out of here."

We made our way down the street and stood in the waiting line with several dozen beings. Spike and Wes were already taking every opportunity to touch each other. Wes even had his arms around her once, demonstrating the proper posture for some weapons hold or other. I'm sure Spike appreciated the lesson.

Hobbie turned out to be a pleasant conversationalist. My natural suspicion had been mollified by Spike's confidence in her friend so I decided to take her advice and just enjoy myself the best I could. We discussed pleasant memories of our mutual home world, Ralltiir, mostly, and I listened to his descriptions of the worlds he had seen. I told him of some of the exploits Spike had dragged me into and he commiserated with stories of his own.

Neither of us mentioned the terrible destruction the Empire had brought to Ralltiir.

I found myself disappointed when we made it to the front of the line and entered the noisy, dark nightclub where it was too loud to carry on a decent conversation. When he took my arm in one hand and put his other hand to the small of my back to guide me through the crowd, a delicious shiver ran up my spine. I discovered that all concerns about Maar and his files and our security had fled, replaced by a giddy eagerness I hadn't felt very often before. The Empire's invasion and occupation of Ralltiir had come during my senior year of University. Before that, my father had kept me busy with enough investigations and research that I hardly had time to think about anything else. Since then, I hadn't wanted to think about anything but defeating the Empire and freeing Ralltiir. Tonight was turning out to be quite different.

We found a tiny booth and squeezed in while Wes got us all drinks at the bar. We had barely started sipping them when Spike pulled Wes out onto the dance floor. After an awkward moment of silence between us while we sipped our drinks, Hobbie surprised me by grabbing my hand and leaning over to whisper loudly in my ear. "You know what? I don't like the Emperor either."

I must have looked really unattractive with my mouth hanging open because he grinned and reached up to gently push my jaw shut. His touch was shockingly intimate, squeezing the breath right out of my chest. Gently, he rubbed the pad of his thumb over my lips. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he pressed the index finger of his other hand against his own lips in a "shh!" gesture.

Wes and Spike returned then and we took our turn on the dance floor. He was a surprisingly good dancer. He moved smoothly and assuredly with no sign of stiffness or worse, smarminess. I decided he must work out or play sports because he was obviously quite athletic.

We danced through several songs, not speaking but just enjoying the movement of each other. I maneuvered on the floor so I could run my hand across his biceps and up his shoulders. He was lean but solid. No softness on him. He responded by wrapping his hands around my waist and matching my hip movements with the music.

We matched each other well. He was a good lead and I was a good improviser. The final swing pulled me into his arms and he held me tight as he dipped me gracefully. He held the dip longer than normal, a heart-stopping moment when his face was just inches away from mine and his eyes wandered down to my lips. I breathed deep, my chest on fire, thinking he was going to kiss me, but he just put me back on my feet and squeezed my hands as the music faded into the next song.

We made our way back to the booth for a rest. I walked in a daze after that dip. Hobbie didn't look affected, though. He carried himself with an imperturbable composure that spoke of instinctive grace and experienced proficiency. I got a little worried, wondering what I was doing. He was Spike and Wes' friend, after all. While he didn't have the rhetorical swagger that they did, his efforts to charm were unmistakable.

And effective.

This had seldom gone well for me in the past.

"That was nice," he murmured in my ear as I slid in the booth ahead of him. I glanced at Spike and noticed her lips were slightly swollen and her top a little askew. It was obvious she and Wes had already started going at it and Hobbie hadn't even kissed me yet. After that dip, I knew I wanted him to.

Kriff it! I swore to myself. Spike wasn't worried about our security and this guy was incredibly tempting. Why shouldn't I enjoy myself, too? One night of harmless fun wouldn't ruin anything. Our mission would still be there in the morning.

I stopped short on the bench so Hobbie had to snuggle close to sit fully on the seat. He didn't seem to mind and put an arm around me. Now I was grateful for the high volume of the music because that meant I had to get really close to his ear for him to hear me.

"That was fun!" I said. "Where'd you learn to dance?"

"Spike taught me," he replied, equally close to my ear. "Didn't she brag about that too?"

I realized with a start that it had never occurred to me that Spike and Hobbie may have been together at one time. She had said he was her best friend, but sometimes best friends were lovers too. A flash of jealousy swept over me before I shoved it away. Whatever they had, it was over now, without any lingering feelings of that nature. At least, it was for Spike, as evidenced by her behavior with Wes. I wondered if Hobbie still felt anything.

"Were you two an item?" I asked, trying not to show my trepidation.

Hobbie laughed. "Not like that," he replied to my relief. "She taught me to dance for our Advanced Ed graduation dance. She said no friend of hers was going to embarrass her by making it all the way through Ed and not knowing how to dance. She made me practice for two months with her before she was satisfied."

"I'll have to thank her." I took a chance and leaned in a little closer so he could feel my breath against his cheek. "She's taught me a few moves, too."

The heat flared in his eyes and his hand came up to cup my chin. He caressed my jaw with his finger and studied my features intently. I drank in his intoxicating stare, letting it feed the ache building deep in my core. He pushed the hair out of my eyes with his fingertips and traced my cheekbone before finding his way to my lips.

"Spike and I have a lot in common." Softly, he touched my lips and I let them part, inviting him to explore further. "But it's important that you understand we are very different in some crucial ways."

His breath was hot on my cheek where he re-traced the trail across my cheekbone with his lips. "She is wonderfully uninhibited and boldly takes what she wants."

"Whereas I…" He tucked my hair behind my ear and moved to explore what he had uncovered.

"…like to take my time…" His tongue flicked an outline around the curves of my ear and I was sure he could hear my blood roaring.

"…and savor…" He pulled back and clasped my face in both hands.

"…every moment." His lips pressed against mine then in a full if tender kiss. I felt his tongue on my lips and I opened to taste him in return, catching only a tantalizing flicker before he had moved back and sat smiling at what I'm sure was a dazed look on my face.

Great stars! A man who understood sexual tension? I don't think Spike knew what she had missed. I as so going to bust her for this later!

The tightness in my chest was burning brighter as I stared at him and slowly shook my head. Deliberately, I licked my lips and ended with a gentle nibble on my lower lip. No way was he getting away unaffected.

"Whatever you say," I purred as I kissed his palm that still rested against my cheek, slowly extending my exploration out to the tips of his fingers. Raising my eyebrows and staring directly at him, I slipped the tip of his middle finger in my mouth and sucked gently. I was rewarded with a deep inhale of his breath and the widening of his smoldering brown eyes.

I released his hand and nonchalantly took another sip from my almost empty drink. I knew that was going to be my last one. I was not going to miss the smallest detail of whatever this man had in mind for tonight.

Wes and Spike came back to the table then, giggling and kissing sloppily. Spike smiled at me, obviously happy that Hobbie and I were getting cozy. "Don't you just love this music? I think it's Correllian? Or maybe Alderaanian?"

I tensed at the mention of Alderaan and was shocked that Hobbie did too. Even Wes's eyes darkened and a look passed between the two men. Spike seemed to sense the sudden tension despite her inebriated state but couldn't grasp the source. "What? What did I say?"

The news of the destruction of Alderaan several months ago had shocked the entire galaxy. The incomprehensible power it took to do such a thing had cowed many while the rumors as to the cause had spread like a Guivian itch vine. Conspiracy theories abounded but the galaxy still waited for a straight explanation from the Empire. Spike and I had heard our own rumors about terrible Imperial weapons and their vendetta against the Princess of Alderaan who led the Rebellion, but it was hard to know what was true.

"It's terrible what happened to Alderaan," I ventured cautiously after several long ticks of silence. I turned and faced Hobbie head on. "Do you think its true the Rebels blew themselves up and took the planet with them?"

He looked at Wes and Spike and then retuned to me. "No," he said firmly. "I don't."

Spike gasped. "Hobbie? Politics? You have changed."

Hobbie nodded. "That I have. More than you know." He peered at her intently. "You ok with that?"

Spike stared at her old friend, the merriment gone from her eyes and a hard, calculating glint replacing it. This was a moment of truth that had come quicker than either of us thought it would. She knew the danger even more so than I did. Even in an inebriated state, even in a lustful state, she would never risk our safety with loose talk.

"Do you know that for a fact? That the Rebels didn't blow it up?"

Hobbie nodded solemnly.

Spike sighed. "Yeah, I'm okay with that." She plopped down across Wes's lap and reached up to pat his cheek. "What about you, gunner? Where are you at?"

Wes kissed the palm of Spike's hand and licked a trail up the inside of her wrist. "Sugar, I'm Hobbie's wingman," he said as if that explained it all. "I've always got his back."

"Good boy," Spike murmured with approval as she moved her head, exposing her neck in an invitation for Wes to nuzzle. He didn't hesitate.

"Spike," Hobbie leaned over toward her. "I want to talk about this."

"Later," she murmured, her face buried in Wes's hair. "Tomorrow morning we can talk."

"Yeah, " Wes interjected, shooting Hobbie an irritated look. "Tomorrow morning we can talk."

A thrill ran through me as what had just happened sunk in. These guys didn't like the Empire after all. They were very subtle about it but I sensed real strength in their stance. I wondered if they were just Rebel sympathizers. Or…? What if they were actually Rebels? Now wouldn't that be something?

I gasped reflexively and jerked back to look at Hobbie with wide eyes. Suddenly I felt like a dunce as I understood what Spike had obviously figured out quite some time ago. I knew they had been hiding something, but I had been so concerned with our own security it hadn't occurred to me that these guys had the exact same concerns!

Hobbie was staring at me calmly, his expression giving nothing away. Then he shook his head in the slightest movement and offered his hand. "Dance?"

A slow tune started just as we hit the floor and Hobbie pulled me in close to nuzzle my hair. I let him, but made sure he could hear me.

"You're not just a freighter pilot, are you?"

He shook his head mutely against my hair.

"And you're not a smuggler, either, are you?"

"Depends on who you ask," he said mysteriously. His arms encircled my waist and his hands began to caress my back.

"You're not a member of Imperial Security Bureau testing our loyalty?"

"Most definitely not," he answered firmly. He guided my arms up around his neck and demonstrated the direction of his thoughts by stroking my arms and shoulders. "The rest has to wait for Spike."

Wait for Spike? Something was definitely up. If these guys were Rebels they seemed to believe that Spike really was an Imperial trooper. That was fine. Whatever it was, she could handle it and it wouldn't interfere with my work. Knowing Hobbie was in some way associated with the Rebellion just made me all the more comfortable getting cozy with him. Spike was always telling me to enjoy the moment. At this moment, I just wanted to enjoy the evening with this man.

I was completely and utterly trapped by his efforts to entice my thoughts down the same path as his. I don't think I had ever met a man that could make me get this lost in the sensations he was sending pulsing through my body. The caress of his hands, the press of his hips, the heat of his breath all drowned me in exquisite torture until I could take no more.

I joined his sensual exploration by leaning tantalizingly close to his neck. Grazing the skin, I inhaled the musk of his scent and savored the rhythm of his pulse. Tentatively, I flicked my tongue to taste a spot below his chin and nuzzled against his faintly whiskered cheek.

He met my mouth then in a shamelessly wanton kiss, our tongues tasting and probing, igniting a torrid desire that obliterated any lingering hesitation. I surrendered to his guiding touch, synchronizing our moves on the dance floor with the heated fervor of our caresses. We swayed through the rest of the song, clinging to each other, exploring the feel of our bodies against each other.

The song ended too soon. I wasn't ready to separate from him yet. When the next song started with an upbeat techno riff, I ignored it and silently begged that he do the same.

He didn't.

Instead, he whispered. "Let's see if Spike and Wes are ready to get out of here yet."

Okay, that I could go along with.

We left the nightclub and hailed an autocab as quickly as we could. The trip back to the apartment was at once interminable and fleeting. I was impatient to feel the heat of this man's skin against mine and strained against the lack of privacy, but was shocked when we arrived at the apartment. I had no memory of anything but the curves of his taut muscles, the weight of his body against mine, and the scorching intimacy of his kisses.