Disclaimer:  I don't own the universe or the people in it.  I'm not making any money off of this, and this is purely a creative exercise.  I'm just having a little fun with it, what can I say?

Reposting Chapter 1, because there were a few elements of her character that I didn't manage to make clear.

Chapter 1:

Moira spun her body agilely to her left, drawing her lithe frame into one of the narrow doorways which lined the street, and taking care to tuck her lekku as close to her body as she possibly could.  The Twi'lekki head tails were considered a rather exotic feature of the race, but frankly they could be damn annoying sometimes.  This was one of those times; when they amounted to little more than an extra pair of appendages for someone to shoot off.

Nevertheless, it took a great deal of effort to suppress the whoop of joy which wanted to escape her lips as the roar of blaster fire filled the street and innumerable blaster bolts flew past her narrow cover, sweeping away innocent pedestrians by the dozens, but failing to strike the target, her.

This, she realized, was what she lived for.  It wasn't about the size of the paycheck, which was considerable.  It was about the job.  It was about accomplishing a task in your own way, and being answerable to nobody, as long as you got the job done.

"Teer, get the Jezebeth running."  She spoke into the comlink in her hand, "if I'm not there in fifteen standard minutes, I want you to make a break for it."

"Did you get into trouble again, softskin?"

Moira smiled, Givin were legendary for their distain of anyone who lacked the mathematical acuity they possessed.  Teer liked to keep that image alive, in spite the fact that anybody who actually knew him knew that it clearly wasn't the way he felt.  In spite of his gruff manner, Teer was a vital addition to the team.  Apart from being a very capable pilot (while she could fly herself, he was definitely a lot better), he'd done most of the modification to their craft, an old CRF-76 light courier to make it faster and more maneuverable.  They'd sacrificed much of the cargo room to accomplish it, but they generally carried very little cargo anyway.  He also spoke six languages other than basic fluently, and he was the only man she'd ever seen perform hyperspace calculations in his head, although she understood that was pretty common for Givin.  She didn't fully understand why he felt the need to do them in his head, since they had a nav computer.  Apparently he trusted his brain more.

"You could say that," she grinned as the hail of blaster fire died down.  Bodies littered the streets.  The Naronese police forces were famous for not caring what innocent civilians got in the way; as long as they got their man, or in this case, their woman.  She knew she wasn't going to lose much in the way of sleep over the death of innocent civilians, but to her thinking, that was collateral damage; a sign of sloppy work.

She reached down to the pair of identical holsters she had strapped to her waist, and drew a pair of Blastech DB-25 security pistols.  They were one of the oldest pistols Blastech still manufactured, and possessed a level of rugged reliability which was second to none.

They also had the added advantage that no Imperial force in the galaxy was known to use them, and due to their common presence in the galactic fringe, they were virtually untraceable.

Her grip tightened on the wooden grips that had made the pistols famous.  This was going to be fun.  The pistols, she knew, didn't have the power of most rifles out there, but they were small and light, and they didn't impede her movement.  For her, speed was a far more valuable asset than raw firepower.

She remembered to keep her body low as she ducked out of the doorway and took aim at her attackers.  The first shots, fired at what would have been chest level, flew over her head, giving her the opportunity to open fire at the two who were nearest to her.  She aimed to incapacitate rather than kill.  She preferred to keep the body count as low as possible.  The first shot she fired struck one man in the hip, causing his leg to buckle.  The second struck the woman on his left in the shoulder.

As the scene again dissolved into a chaotic flurry of blaster fire, danced backwards, ducking into a side street.  This was primarily a residential area along the coastline in the capital city of Naron.  Its population represented almost thirty percent of the total population of the planet, packet tightly in box-like residential buildings.

Okay, let's hit the rooftops.

A metallic stairway was bolted to the side of the building.  It seemed to be an escape route of some kind.  She ran up, her boots clanging noisily as she ascended.

It did not matter.  They would know where she was anyway.  She could already hear the pounding of their standard-issue boots against the pavement.  She heard them draw to a somewhat disorganized stop and open fire at her.  The stairway absorbed most of it, although it glowed red with the heat absorbed.  As she rolled onto the roof, she could already hear them racing up the stairway behind her.  They did not want to lose her.

Of course they don't want to lose you, you've just deprived almost a third of their population of fresh water.

Naron was a somewhat odd planet in that every drop of fresh water had been exhausted.  The only remaining water on the planet was salt water.  The Naronese had developed a technique for refining Tibanna gas which involved bubbling it through water with just the right concentrations of minerals.  The impurities precipitated out, and you were left with a product ten times more pure than anything else on the market, so it wasn't surprising that the New Republic had taken it upon themselves to invite Naron into their little exclusive club.  With a product that pure, you could create weapons which were smaller, required less energy, and were more powerful.  But without water, it didn't work.  When the technique had been perfected, the Naronese had used the fresh water which occurred naturally in their environment, but they had exhausted it at a furious rate.  So, in order to maintain their industry, not to mention their population, they developed some of the most advanced water purification techniques in existence.

Moira had just sabotaged the water purification plant which provided most of the water to the capital city, rendering it useless for several months.

The talks with the New Republic were not going well.  It seemed that the Naronese didn't see what the New Republic had to offer them.  When the Naronese discovered that New Republic Intelligence was behind the sabotage of their water plant, they would, inevitably, jump to the very reasonable conclusion that it was an attempt to force them to the negotiation table.

The New Republic, obviously would deny these "baseless allegations" (she could almost hear Leia Organa's voice denying them), but what did one expect someone who was caught red-handed to say?

When the talks broke down, the Naronese would go looking for help, and the Empire would be only too happy to provide whatever assistance they could.

Sometimes the simplest plans were the most elegant.

It took talent to frame someone properly.  You couldn't just plant an abundance of evidence at the scene of a crime.  If you made it too obvious, they would suspect a frame-up.  Most people, especially New Republic Intelligence agents were not dumb enough to leave incriminating evidence at the scene of the crime, and nobody investigating it would be dumb enough to believe that they were.  The secret was to construct a trail of evidence, sometimes based upon a single clue left at the scene, which ultimately pointed at the person you wanted to implicate.

And it went without saying; nothing at all tied her to the Empire.  Even if not for the fact that her very species practically excluded her from any service to the Empire (non-humans were practically unheard-of), three people other than Teer knew of her association with the Empire, and only one knew exactly what she was doing.

Even the identity she'd concocted for herself on the off chance that she was killed or captured would ultimately lead back to New Republic Intelligence.

She ran for the opposite end of the building.  She'd judged the distance between them to be approximately three meters.  A long jump, but definitely possible if she had a run at it.

"Teer, change of plans."

"Talk to me, Moira."

"I'm running along the rooftops parallel to the coastline.  Do you think you could give me a pickup?"

"That depends, what's it worth to you?"

"Your life."

She could almost hear him smiling over the comlink, "sold."

"How long?"

"I'll be airborne in about forty seconds.  I can track you by your comm signal, so keep the line open."

"Yes, sir."  She drove herself forward as fast as she could and pushed herself off the edge of the building with fearless abandon.  She hit the top of the next building hard and lost her balance slamming uncomfortably into the hard metallic roof.  Keep going, the voice of her mentor sounded in her ears, no matter what happens, keep going.

The law enforcement had made it to the roof and had started firing at her.  She had a lead of a good forty meters, the shots went wide.  Behind her, she could hear them running, attempting to make the same jump she had just made.

She rolled to her feet and ran.

She heard something slam hard into the side of the building she was on.  Someone screamed; their screams fading in the distance only to be punctuated by the sound of an object striking an unyielding surface.  Naron had weak gravity, but not weak enough for such a fall not to be fatal.

She jumped again, this time she landed a little better, managing to keep herself upright; barely.  She stumbled and only managed to regain her balance a few steps later.

"Teer, where are you?"

"Look over your shoulder."

She glanced over her shoulder to see the small craft, painted an ominous matte black, flying leisurely behind her.  "Bring her down over the next building."

"Yes ma'am."  The Jezebeth accelerated past her, and descended smoothly a few meters ahead.

"Sithspit."  She could see as the dark form dropped behind the edge of the building that the next building was at least two floors shorter than this one.  This is really going to hurt.

She flung herself into space, concentrating on keeping her feet under her as she sailed through the air, knowing that there was no chance at all that she would stay upright once she hit the roof of the next building.

The impact felt as though someone had taken it upon themselves to grab her head and her ankles and bring them into as close proximity as physically possible.  She felt as though her spine was being crushed into her pelvis, and her skull compressed into her neck.  She allowed her legs to collapse under her when she hit, hoping that would absorb at least a little bit of the impact.  She forced herself to roll forward, with limited success.  Her shoulders slammed hard into the rooftop, pushing the wind out of her.

But she was alive and it didn't feel as if anything was broken.

She rolled her head back towards the building she'd just vacated in time to see two officers jump off of it.

Casually, she drew the blaster pistol from her right holster and fired a single shot at each of them.

Neither received wounds which would have been serious on the ground, but the force of the impact was sufficient to throw them off balance in the air, causing them to slam into the roof of the building horizontally, or even headfirst.  She heard the sickening sound of bones breaking as they struck the building with a force not unlike that of a meteorite impact.  She swung her blaster up to the rooftop again, two more officers, seeing the broken bodies of their comrades, decided not to attempt the jump.

Moira ran up the ramp "Okay, Teer, let's get out of here."

The Naronese had not had the opportunity to organize a pursuit.  They had never believed that she would make it to space, so their escape from Naron's relatively weak gravity well was somewhat anticlimactic.

"So, did we do it?"  Teer wanted to know.

Moira nodded, "yeah, we did it."  She took a deep breath, trying not to allow the relief that it was over to show on her face, "Open a line to the Kiss of Death."

Teer played with a few buttons, "You've got it."

"This is Wyrrn, reporting success.  Anticipate breakdown of diplomacy within four days, Wyrrn out."  The Naronese were nothing if not skilled investigators.  Four days was an extremely generous estimate.  She closed the connection, knowing that the Kiss of Death would not acknowledge the message in any way.  Even if someone managed to intercept the message, they had no way of knowing who the intended recipient was, and no way of knowing what she was talking about.

She always identified herself as Wyrrn in her communiqués, which struck her as appropriate.  The Wyrrn was an eel-like creature that lived on Mon Calamari.  Whenever they would migrate, they would pool their resources by extending a sort of umbilical to the creatures around them.  They could share nutrients, and oxygen this way.

But if one of them fell behind, or was threatened, his umbilical was severed, and the abandoned Wyrrn had to fend for himself.