Author's Note: Well, this is my first Star Wars fanfiction, a lovely little one shot of which I'm rather fond. There aren't any canon characters in here, however, so if you're a die-hard Luke/Leia/Han/whoever fan you might not be interested. Still, I would recommend this story to any Star Wars fan. It's an unlikely love story...with quite a bit of Galactic humor.
Before you dive in, there's one thing I want to clear up about the Imperial rank and duties of our hero, Avige Hart. His roles in the Imperial navy are not necessarily typical, because his commanding officer, Admiral Pandrax, has more than one fleet of ships under his command and so delegates his smaller groups of ships to trusted officers. Therefore, if you are somewhat incredulous as to the fact that an officer of his rank commands several Star Destroyers, this is why. Oh, and his Star Destroyers are Victory-class. Thank you!
Enjoy! TI-IT
A Man in Uniform!
Captain Avige Hart sighed and resisted the impulse to lay his head on the smooth surface of the bar in the small, insignificant club he had somehow scrounged up on Coruscant. He brushed a stray speck off his drab grey uniform instead, noting how the strobing lights of the club turned its durable material into something almost interesting. Yet he would not trade the ugly grey uniform in for anything. He was a captain of the Galactic Empire, and though it sounded highly unprofessional, he loved his job.
Avige turned his attention to the many-legged bartender and eyed the steaming drink the creature had brought him. "Is that what I ordered?"
"Yes, sir," answered the bartender politely in a gargling voice. "One Corellian Sunset?"
Raising his eyebrows, Avige accepted the concoction and paid the bartender. He hadn't remembered Corellian Sunsets as some sort of steaming cauldron of death, but he would take his chances. That was his job, he reflected morosely, as he swirled the contents of his drink. He took more risks in his everyday work than a Hutt gambler, and even though he would never admit it to his comrades...the strain of reporting every day to Admiral Pandrax on such risks was beginning to wear on him.
But he'd never asked for leave, Avige reminded himself with some pride. He was able to handle his job. He had been offered leave time by the Admiral himself, but he'd refused it. He did not want leave, because he feared his subordinates would run about like headless mynoks without him. The reason he was on Corscant was not for recreational purposes. He had only stopped at this club to get a drink on his way to his next meeting. As he took a sip of the drink Avige wondered if ordering a Corellian Susnet had been the best idea. After all, he did have three more appointments with officials before he could return to the ship, and he certainly did not need to be inebriated for them.
"I said, that's mine!" The ridiculously feminine voice reached his ears through the loud club music and foreign forms of communication. Avige sighed, trying to ignore the high-pitched cry of outrage. "That's my money clutch, you pile of bantha droppings! Give it--argh! Take your hands off me, you--" The rest of the woman's sentence was an impressively long string of Rodian profanities.
In spite of himself, Avige lifted his head to follow the cursing voice. Amid the moving figures of humanoids and every other being one could imagine, he saw the hazy form of a struggling woman in the corner to his right. The being against whom she was struggling appeared to be a Rodian, but he couldn't be sure. Avige watched in mild interest as the woman yanked back her arm, shielding something metallic and glittery from the Rodian's insistent fingers--the money clutch, he assumed. The Rodian was not inclined to give up, however, and reached again for the woman's wallet.
"If you touch it again--oh! You just--don't you dare--" The woman slapped the Rodian's hand away from her and tried to barge past him, to no avail. Avige propped his chin in his hand in silent amusement. If the woman wanted to escape her tormentor, she was failing miserably.
"Please, just leave me alone!" shrieked the woman. The Rodian did not seem to hear her. "Fine! Fine! Take it!" She released her hold on the money clutch. Without a backward glance at his victim, the Rodian began to weave through the crowded club, straight toward Avige. Preparing to turn back to his drink, Avige almost did not catch sight of the woman leaning in defeat against the wall of the club, crying.
If Avige possessed one weakness, it was crying women. For some strange reason, he found it immeasurably difficult to ignore the tears of females with the stoicism of his superior officers. Admiral Pandrax never sent him with planetary finalization parties because of this weakness. If one single female on a diplomatic committee of a conquered planet started to sob, he would be putty in their hands.
So that was why he stood and pulled his blaster casually from its holster at his waist and intercepted the Rodian just as he passed the bar, gripping one of his arms. When he struggled, Avige slid the muzzle of his blaster into the Rodian's ribs and calmly said, "Give me that wallet, or die." He would have no qualms about shooting a thief on Imperial territory. The Empire did not deal gently with thieves.
Gulping, the Rodian shoved the wallet at his attacker and ran for the door as soon as Avige let him go. Avige looked carefully through the money clutch for any missing items. There were quite a few credits in the clutch, he noticed with surprise, most likely several hundred. Had he apprehended the wallet of some kind of upper-class citizen? Or was this woman a smuggler? Before he could thoroughly contemplate the matter, his eyes were arrested by a bright flash of gold and a glimpse of ruby skin.
Looking down in shock, Avige found himself staring into the most dazzling pair of silver-grey eyes he'd ever seen. These eyes blinked up at him in wide-eyed adoration. Avige shook his head, clearing it. "What do you think you are doing?" He asked, stammering slightly as the red-skinned woman--a Zeltron, Avige thought--stared earnestly up at him, her body extremely close to his.
"Oh, thank you, thank you so much!" The woman said in her feminine voice, her red lips moving at what Avige thought must have been the speed of light. She moved forward as if to close the distance between them further. "I don't know what to say, thank you--"
"If you don't mind, some distance might be appropriate at this moment--" Avige started, growing suddenly very uncomfortable as he saw what the woman was wearing: a thin, mesh-like outfit made of shimmering gold that left nothing to the imagination.
"Oh, but I want to thank you--" The woma's eyes flew to the insignia of rank on Avige's uniform, "Captain. That was so gallant of you! You're my knight in shining armor!"
"I am not," protested Avige, mortified beyond belief. "It is completely unnecessary--"
Still gazing at him with indecent rapture, the Zeltron woman stepped back from him and took her money clutch from Avige. "I don't know how to thank you, Captain," fluttered the Zeltron. "These are my earnings for the entire week, I don't know what I would have done without them."
Avige was staring at the woman with a mixture of disgust and befuddlement. "I--think no more of it. Thieves must be apprehended." That was a good answer. That was a proper thing for an Imperial officer to say to a--a--
"But it was so wonderully brave of you!" said the Zeltron, her eyes widening as she tucked the money clutch into the bag at her shoulder. "I've been dancing at this club for three standard weeks, and no other man I've met here would have done something that brave for me!"
"That really is no revelation," said Avige wryly, while his mind recoiled at the words Zeltron dancer. "Good day." He slipped his blaster back into its holster and turned, ready to exit this strange conversation. He had his next meeting to attend, and he felt no inclination to waste time on a club dancer.
The Zeltron's voice rose after him. "Wait! Please, wait, Captain!"
Avige turned reluctantly around to watch the Zeltron woman coming toward him from the depths of the club, her statuesuqe body sliding in and out of the bright lights. Her shimmering dancer's outfit rippled on her skin, distracting Avige and leading his eyes to places they did not wish to stray; he hastily stared at her face and focused on her silvery eyes.
"Oh, Captain, here, take my data card," said the Zeltron, stepping up and inserting the small, plasteel card into one of the pockets on Avige's utility belt. Avige commanded himself not to start violently away. "I just can't thank you enough," she said, exerting the hypnotic power of Zeltron women over him. "If there's anything I can do for you--" she advanced and placed one hand on the front of his uniform, curling herself toward him.
"Thank you, that will be all," Avige said curtly. The Zeltron's hand was leaving a most alarming sensation on his chest which he did not like in the least. "My act was nothing more than fulfilling the Emperor's laws." He gritted his teeth after those words, knowing they were not exactly true: he had stopped the Rodian because he couldn't stand to see a female cry.
Giggling, the Zeltron woman placed a shimmery red kiss on Avige's cheek. "You're just so adorable! Look me up sometime, won't you? I'm a traveling dancer, so we might see each other again." She began to move away, her money clutch raised above her head in farewell. "Keep my card! Please do look me up, Captain! Goodbye!"
Frozen in place, Avige touched the spot on his cheek where the Zeltron had kissed him, still covered in shiny red makeup. Had she actually kissed him? Him? An Imperial officer? And had she called him adorable? Surely she was out of her mind. Spinning on one heel, Avige walked into the sensory overload of Coruscant. He scrubbed furiously at the lipstick mark on his cheek. Admiral Pandrax would execute him in a very traditional fashion if he ever knew Avige had been kissed by a Zeltron dancer, especially when on official business.
Yet his hand dropped to the pocket on his utility belt, the one in which the Zeltron had left her card. Without quite knowing why he did so, Avige pulled out the data card and squinted in the glare of thousands of metal panels on the buildings he passed. In tiny golden letters engraved on the top of the card was the phrase: If found return to Lixa Orimar, Zeltron Dance Corps; Zeltron Embassy, Coruscant.
******
"And did you find the information in the archives, Captain?"
Avige nodded, then remembered that the Admiral was not looking at him, but at the people passing by them on every side. Admiral Pandrax never looked at the person to whom he spoke when walking through a crowded area. He was one of those officers who never relaxed in public places, always seeking some assassin to arrest. "Yes, Admiral, I found everything you required. I also found some information we did not expect, such as--"
"Not here, Captain Hart, not here!" The Admiral stole a furtive glance at an old man next to them in the pedestrian walk. "However, this is intriguing news. And you were able to retrieve these files from the archives on this planet?"
"Yes, sir, Corellia is rife with old archival material. Their computer systems really are quite sophisticated, not what one expects from such a--uh-"
"From such a lawless planet," Admiral Pandrax finished, giving an evil look to a woman on a street corner who was peddling something decidedly more suggestive than silk scarves.
"Yes, sir," said Avige, avoiding the same woman's speculative gaze. He did not like to be seen as a source of ill-gotten gain for disreputable women, and for some reason he turned out to be one of their primary targets. "I'll secure the files for you when we return to Abutor."
"As I would expect, Captain."
Inwardly, Avige sighed. The Admiral frequently said, 'As I would expect.' It grew tiresome after a while.
"Is this the edifice?" asked Admiral Pandrax, frowning up at the tall skyscraper in his typical suspicious fashion. "Is it safe to enter, Captain?"
"Yes, Admiral. I posted men inside and along this street. We are being protected by twelve undercover stormtroopers as we speak." After all this time, did the Admiral still not trust Avige to humor his eccentricities?
"Excellent, excellent. I brought you along to this meeting for this very reason, Captain. You are most efficient."
"Thank you, sir," said Avige, accepting the compliment and not pointing out the difference between efficiency and paranoia.
The two of them entered the sleek, smooth-paned building without any more wary comments from the Admiral. Once inside, Avige looked around at the refined atmosphere, at the luxury upholstery on the bar stools at the far corner, at the well-dressed people milling about while droids served them drinks, at the human bartender with his hair slicked back into an oily clump. The Admiral would choose such a place for official business, Avige thought. This was a place important yet out of the way, without the pointless bustle of a government facility or the disorder of a public square.
"Welcome, Admiral," said a cool-voiced attendant who appeared suddenly next to them--Avige nearly pulled his blaster on the blonde woman out of surprise. "I have prepared a table for your party in the back," the woman continued, coolly disregarding Avige. "Shall I lead you there?"
"Lead the way," answered Admiral Pandrax, and Avige fell into step behind him. The woman led them through plasteel doors into the back of the club. Here the atmosphere changed slightly. While the men and women dining there dressed as elegantly as those in the front of the club, they were packed more closely together, with more tables and fewer empty stools at the bar. In a corner, dancers in airy costumes performed to soft mood music played from an invisible sound system. There were human waiters instead of droids, and the bartender was a tall human with the look of a hired mercenary. Overall, this section of the building catered to a crowd with a rougher edge to them than the refined customers in the front.
Avige shifted nervously under his uniform as their attendant left them. Crowded places carried many more dangers. "Sir, this is the correct seating area, isn't it?"
"Yes, Captain." The Admiral spared Avige a glance from his unceasing surveillance. "Our contact prefers this area of the establishment."
Although Avige said no more on the matter, he, too, began to scan the diners. He wasn't exactly uneasy about the crowded room, but he would have liked to remain in the lighter, more open front rooms. Not to mention his stormtroopers wouldn't know to keep their watchfulness more on this area than the front of the building. He had full confidence in them, however, and did not doubt their competence.
The Admiral took his seat at the center of a table with three chairs situated near the back of the establishment, the corner nearest the dancers. The females' gracefully pivoting figures provided only enough distraction to be annoying, Avige thought. Because of them, his concentration was divided. Taking his own seat across from the Admiral, Avige rested his hand cautiously on his blaster. Why was he so unsettled?
"Our contact will be here shortly," said Admiral Pandrax, checking his chronometer. "In the meantime, we might as well order something. What shall you have, Captain?"
"Oh, nothing for me, sir," said Avige, his eyes on the dancers. Something was very familiar about that one on the very edge of the platform. The headress masked her features, irritating him. Who was she?
"Admiring the entertainment, I see," remarked the Admiral in an unexpectedly hearty tone.
Avige's reverie came to a screeching halt. "Excuse me, sir?"
"The dancers, Hart, the dancers!" To Avige's absolute horror, the Admiral winked. "I didn't know you had an eye for that sort of thing, boy."
For a moment, the Admiral's attitude toward the dancers left Avige speechless. He finally managed to say, "Admiral Pandrax, I assure you--I wasn't--I thought--I recognized one of them, you see." He hoped his face was not its telltale flaming red; he was shell-shocked by the Admiral's comments. The last time he had heard his commanding officer discuss anything but business was the day he had been assigned to Pandrax's fleet three years ago.
"Space, Captain, do you mean to tell me you're acquainted with dancer girls?" The Admiral's face lit up with an amazed smile. "How do you accomplish such a thing, without any leave to speak of? I am genuinely curious."
"Sir, it isn't like that at all," protested Avige, feeling his face grow as hot as Tatooine's second sun.
Admiral Pandrax waved a hand placatingly, clearly not convinced. "Of course it isn't, Captain, of course. Now, would you care for a drink?"
"No, thank you, sir." He had had enough sense-inhibiting experiences for one day, Avige thought as he watched his commanding officer order a heady Mawan Rainforest. Imagine, Admiral Pandrax joking to him about dancer girls! Never would he have been able to anticipate such an uncharacteristic conversation. Looking at his own chronometer, Avige frowned. "Sir, when did we arrive here?"
"About fifteen minutes ago."
"With all due respect, sir, shouldn't our contact have arrived several minutes ago?"
"We shall allow him a few minutes more, Captain. I don't know from where in this blasted city he must come, but it's possible it may take him a while to find us." Avige would have placed fifty credits on a wager that the Admiral chuckled at him. "Meanwhile, you may pay attention to your dancer acquaintance."
Embarassed past the point of sanity, Avige turned away from the Admiral--and immediately spotted something strange about one of the diners behind the dancing platform. Narrowing his eyes, Avige took in the man's carefully casual pose, his crossed legs. He noticed the man's left hand resting in plain sight on the table and also noted the fact that his right hand lay concealed in his lap. There was undoubtedly a blaster in that other hand. And the man was undoubtedly staring at the Admiral.
Swallowing, Avige tried to relax his posture. If the man knew he'd been observed he might take action and shoot the Admiral. Thinking quickly, Avige knocked his empty glass off the table with his forearm. The glass hit the rug-covered floor with a muffled thump. The Admiral obviously did not notice the glass: he was engrossed in a data card he had brought with him from the ship. Avige turned slowly and reached for his glass, all the while drawing his own blaster with his other hand. Where were his stormtroopers? For all they knew, the Admiral was dead already.
Out of the corner of his eye, Avige saw the man draw his blaster. Just as the man took aim, the dancer Avige thought he recognized twirled into the space between the assassin and their table. The dancer would be shot dead if she didn't get out of the assassin's way and, if Avige neglected to take the initiative, his commander would follow shortly after.
His next moves happened almost simultaneously. Avige jumped forward and slammed Admiral Pandrax in the chest with his free hand, tipping the officer's chair over. Ignoring the Admiral's shout of surprise, he ran forward, jumped onto the dancers' platform, and crashed into the familiar dancer. With a shriek, the dancer went flying, with Avige tangled up in her airy accoutrements.
Blasterfire ripped through the air where the dancer and Avige had been moments before. Someone screamed from the surrounding tables, and then more blaster bolts shot from across the room, hitting the assassin squarely from all sides. Avige's troopers had finally remembered their duties. Gasping, Avige felt a pain on his shoulder and looked to the side. Apparently, he had not succeeded in dodging the assassin's first shot. A long, smoldering tear in his uniform revealed the burned skin where the blaster bolt had skimmed over his shoulder. The wound could hardly even be considered as such, Avige reckoned. He had been aboard a Star Destroyer that was ripped apart by Rebel laserfire and had survived. This injury was a pittance.
Disoriented, Avige regained his bearings. He was lying on the floor of the club, and there was something thin and lacy covering his mouth. He blew the obstruction away and realized it belonged to the dancer girl's costume. Once he realized this he also realized that the dancer girl was lying next to him, shaking her head as though she was as dazed as Avige. Someone continued to scream in the background, a sound layered by the fuzzy talk of stormtroopers communicating through their commlinks. Avige also heard the Admiral roaring something at one of the stormtroopers. It sounded suspiciously like, "Incompetent fools," ,"Dereliction of duty," and, "Attend to the captain!"
Just then he noticed that the dancer was sitrring, gathering up her floaty costume around her. She peered over at Avige with silvery eyes. The memory of seeing these eyes before struck him at the same moment it seemed to have struck the dancer. As she scrutinized him her eyes grew wider, and then she gasped. "Captain!"
The best greeting Avige could muster was a huff of air that sounded as though it had been at once wrenched out of him and shoved back into him. Small wonder the dancer looked familiar--she was the same dancer he'd met on Coruscant, Lixa Orimar, the dance whose data card was yet in one of his utility pockets. Avige had kept the card without really knowing why, and he had taken to drawing it out and examining the name engraved on the top. Now that he was confronted with the actual Lixa Orimar, he knew he should have had the card melted by a maintenance droid.
"Oh, Captain," breathed Lixa, "I just knew we'd see each other again, I just knew it! And you've saved me again! How am I ever going to thank you?"
"Hello," said Avige, belatedly. His shoulder was beginning to burn.
Lixa's wide eyes traveled to Avige's singed uniform. Her eyes increased in diameter. "Captain! You're hurt!"
"Rather," agreed Avige.
His stormtroopers came to his rescue as Lixa was about to exclaim more over the injury. One of them, the commander, knelt beside Avige. "See to the civilian," the commander ordered another of his men, who eagerly began a thorough medical inquiry on Lixa. The commander bent over Avige. "Sir, do you think you need a med droid?"
"No, Commander, I don't think so. Where is the Admiral? Is he all right?"
"Yes, Captain, I am perfectly all right." The Admiral loomed over Avige, who was still sprawled out on the floor. "And I will see to it that you are promoted. You have more honor and devotion than a Korun." He turned to the stormtrooper. "You, on the other hand..."
Avige could not fault the stormtrooper for wincing. "I will accept punishment for my lack of foresight, Admiral."
"As I would expect," scowled Admiral Pandrax. "Now, Captain, we shall return immediately to Abutor. You need a med droid to put a bacta patch on that wound."
"Yes, Sir." Avige would rather have stayed and waited for the contact, but his shoulder was starting to ache. Besides, a contact on Corellia would never risk his life delivering a message to some Imperials, not when blasterfire had strafed the meeting spot.
"Captain!"
Avige suppressed a groan as he pulled himself off the ground. Lixa walked over to him, the stormtrooper who had examined her looking on with a bemused expression like he wasn't sure how the dancer had eluded him. "Oh, Captain, are you going to be all right?" asked Lixa, fluttering her eyelids at him. "I just don't know what I'm going to do when you aren't around anymore. You're my hero!"
"Please don't be over-dramatic, Miss Orimar," said Avige, hardly paying attention to her.
Lixa shook her head, her bedraggled headdress rattling. "I'm not! You're so heroic! I knew we'd see each other again, didn't I tell you? It was fate!"
"It was fate that I got shot by a blaster?" Avige's tone was a little short due to the fire in his shoulder. The wound must have gone deeper than he first thought.
"It was fate!" Lixa nodded in earnest. "If you hadn't have stopped that man from shooting me, we would never have recognized each other!"
Avige opened his mouth, then closed it. There was no need to inform Lixa of the sheer absurdity of her last statement. "I was simply performing my duty as an Imperial officer, Miss Orimar."
"Captain Hart, we must be returning to Abutor." The Admiral's voice carried more than a hint of amusement at Avige and his unwanted dancer acquaintance. "I'm sure you can make contact with this young woman sometime soon, but for now you need to have that shoulder examined."
"Yes, sir."
"Captain Hart?" Lixa's eyes shone. "Is that your name?"
Avige had never wanted to strangle his commanding officer more than in that moment. Now she knew his name, too. He would never be rid of her. "Yes, it is."
The stormtroopers surrounded Admiral Pandrax, who took Avige by the arm and marched him away. Avige went willingly, walking as fast as he could without jarring his shoulder. As the small band of Imperials left the club he heard Lixa call out to him. "Just wait, Captain Hart! We'll see each other again!"
Avige wondered if the dancer knew how much that statment had sounded like a threat.
******
"Major, we have reached the Obroa System."
"Excellent. Continue on our set course for Obroa-Skai."
"Yes, sir."
Avige slumped over onto the conference table as soon as the lieutenant left. The conference room was empty except for himself and one lonely maintenance droid who was busily cleaning the other end of the polished black table. The cold surface of the plasteel table soothed the headache Avige felt coming into his head. He watched the droid clean, allowing his mind a moment of blank vacancy. The droid had a squeaky part somewhere in its machinations, for every time it rubbed at the table a loud, insistent reh--reet! filled the conference room.
Then the moment passed, and all his problems came bubbling back to the forefront of his thoughts. Fortune had not been kind to him these past few months. Piled as high as the ceiling of a moisture farmer's main dome, the obstacles that had been thrown into Avige's path since his ascendance to the rank of Major seemed insurmountable: the lost plans that had been hacked directly from the Imperial Star Destroyer Vivisector, a Star Destroyer which had been under Avige's protection; the rumors of possible Rebel activity in the Obroa System which was passing undetected under Imperial noses; and, most disturbing of all, the reports that Avige had failed to update Admiral Pandrax on his progress in tracking the person that had hacked into the Obroa-Skai databases.
Avige banged his head lightly on the table. He had reported to Admiral Pandrax faithfully for five months, but after the first wave of smuggler raids through his sector he had been diverted from strict Imperial protocol. In typical backstabber fashion, his fellow officers stationed around the Perlemian Trade Route had spread the word that "Major Heart" was unfit to hold a post around Obroa-Skai because of his inability to deliver punctual reports. When these rumors began Avige had contacted Admiral Pandrax to gain permission to report every month instead of every two weeks. The Admiral had granted the request in five seconds. Unfortunately, none of the other officers near the Perlemian Trade Route knew what went on inside Avige's starship, so the rumors persisted.
The commlink on the conference table bleeped at him. Sighing, Avige took the communication. "Yes?"
"Major, this is Bridge Control. We, um, have an unidentified craft to our port side. The pilot says she wants to talk to you. Should we patch her through, sir?"
"Just what I need to complete my week," muttered Avige. He hadn't realized she would be this close to Obroa-Skai; he thought it would take her at least three days to arrive.
"Sir?"
"Yes, patch her through, Lieutenant."
"Very good, sir."
There was a crackle of static, then the Lieutenant's voice was replaced with a female's. "Hello, Major."
"Elitas Rev. I had not expected you until three days from now."
"I was in the system, so I thought I would make contact with you and check to see if any of our plans have changed. Would you still like me to meet you at the rendevous point four standard days from now?"
"No part of the plans have changed, bounty hunter. I do hope you've had time to gather some information on your new target while you considered our deal."
"Don't you worry about my end of the research, Major. I have a very experienced computer expert as my business partner. I'm sure we'll be able to nail down our target very soon."
"Good." Avige moved to end the connection, but the woman's voice interrupted him.
"One more thing, Major: are you planning to have a lower-ranking officer take this meeting for you, or are you coming yourself?"
Avige frowned. "I am certain that is no concern of yours, bouny hunter."
"It rather is, Major, because I will plan my negotiations accordingly. And do you intend to post men at our rendevous point to guard you during our transaction?"
"That information you will certainly not get."
The woman laughed gratingly. "I'll take that as a yes, then. All right, Major Hart. I will see you in person, soon. Good luck until then." With that, the communication faded out.
Scowling, Avige thumbed the commlink device off and stood. He loathed having to resort to hiring bounty hunters like some of his colleagues, but he really had no other choice. While galactic criminals were not his chosen comrades, they had their uses for business that the Empire did not wish to record. This matter of the Obroa-Skai Hacker needed to be resolved firmly and without the possibility of a second breach of Imperial security, and a bounty hunter was just the being to ensure this particular hacker did not trouble the Empire again.
When had his job skyrocketed to becoming such a trial? Avige wondered. Perhaps when he'd saved the Admiral from that assassin on Corellia? That was when he had been promoted, after all, and his troubles had come from his position as leader of three Star Destroyers and guardian of two more. Yet he reveled in the sense of responsibility his command position gave him. He liked leading so many men, expanding his axis of power to twice its original size. He liked turning his original Destroyer, ShadowFire, into a flagship. Wonder of wonders, he still liked his job.
The personal commlink on his belt buzzed, startling him. "Saccron here, sir."
"What is it, Leuis?"
"It's Admiral Pandrax, sir."
Avige felt his stomach plummet. "The Admiral? On my personal commlink?"
"Yes, sir. He--" Saccron's voice was cut short as what sounded like a proton torpedo made of static traveled through the commlink.
Then Saccron's voice was replaced by Admiral Pandrax's. "Hart, do you copy?"
"Yes, sir." Avige tried to keep the worry out of his voice. What could he want?
"Hart, you sound like you have a rancor breathing down your throat. Contrary to your belief, I did not contact you to eat you alive."
"With all due respect, sir, why else would you contact me?"
Admiral Pandrax laughed. "I'm contacting you to give you orders, Hart."
Orders? Patrolling the Perlemian Trade Route had been his orders. Was he being relocated? "I am ready and willing, Admiral. What are you orders?"
"My orders are this: go down to Obroa-Skai and buy yourself a drink." The mock solemnity in the Admiral's voice could not be misconstrued, even via commlink.
"Sir?" Avige supposed this was some sort of test, something to prove his dedication to his post. Ever since Avige's rescue of the Admiral from assassination on Corellia, the men on board Abutor had gotten the impression that "Captain Heart" was well-acquainted with Zeltron dancer girls. This impression left quite a scar on Avige's reputation with all higher authorities (excluding Admiral Pandrax). Most of the other admirals thought of Avige as some sort of playboy officer, unworthy of their good graces.
Avige was to this day unsure how the name "Captain Heart" had been adopted, but it had followed him, and he very much wished to shoot dead whoever had coined the name.
"You heard me correctly, Major." Admiral Pandrax's voice shook Avige from his contemplation. "I've heard from reliable sources that you are absorbing the stress of your new post with difficulty."
Avige protested. "I think, all things considered, sir--"
"Do not interrupt me, Major." The Admiral's tone was facetious, barely covered by a thin layer of false seriousness. "Now, I know you are more than capable of handling this post, even if you don't."
"Sir, really--"
"Although you seem to be a little deaf, today."
Avige shut his mouth so quickly it made a loud clicking noise.
Admiral Pandrax continued. "I know, in time, you will stabilize yourself to this new level of power. But in the meantime, I order you to take a small craft down to Obroa-Skai and have a drink. This is not only for your sake, Major, but for your subordinates' sakes, as well. No one can tolerate a burned-out commander."
Avige could stand it no longer. "Sir, I must protest! I cannot leave my post, or employ a shuttle, in order to go drink at a cantina!"
"Oh, can't you? Not even when your superior has given you specific orders to do just that?"
"Sir, I appreciate your interest, but--"
"There is, of course, a useful duty I had planned for you to execute on Obroa-Skai, Major." Admiral Pandrax sounded more amused than before."You would meet another officer and his men at the Singing Reeds cantina to corroborate your information on the Perlemian Pirate's smuggling runs."
Avige's doubts about the Admiral's sanity washed away when he heard that. So, the Admiral wanted him to visit Obroa-Skai for official business, too--what a relief. "I can do that, Admiral. Most assuredly. I will take a transport there immediately."
"As I would expect. Major Suse is there already, but he has other matters to which he must attend. He and his men will meet you there in five standard hours' time."
"Yes, sir."
"Come now, Hart, you can do better than that. Some enthusiasm, please."
Avige attempted to inject life into his voice. "Yes, sir?"
"Once more. I'm sending you on a very easy mission, Hart. There will be ample time to have a drink and watch dancer girls."
"Yes, sir!" Avige did his best not to grind his teeth. Again, he was reminded of dancer girls.
"That was better. Goodbye, Major."
"Thank you, Admiral."
******
Avige leaned back in his booth, his Corellian Sunset untouched on the table. Slowly, he traced the whorls in the marbled plasteel table with one finger. He seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time behind tables, Avige thought. His life had carried more physical challenge when he served on Abutor as lieutenant; his time had mostly been taken up with running about executing Admiral Pandrax's will.
Spontaneously, he stood, pushing his drink gingerly into a corner of the table. Avige checked his blaster, which was belted firmly at his side, and weaved his way through the other tables of the cantina to the front of the building. Several of the female Selonians at the table to his right looked him over, their thin fur rippling. Avige chose to ignore them and focused instead on the drink mixer at the bar. The alien was not a species Avige could dredge up from memory, with five appendages at its torso, three of which were mechanical. He had known stranger cyborgs, and yet this alien took the idea of efficient service and ran with it.
After ten minutes of observation, Avige checked his chronometer. Major Suse and his men would meet him in an hour's time, and then he could return to his ship in peace. Admiral Pandrax's notions about what was decent and proper for a major to do left Avige disgusted with his superior officer. The Admiral had surely not gone off-ship to have a drink when he was a major; so why then should he expect Avige to lower Imperial standards?
Dwelling on the subject of his forced planetside expedition only annoyed Avige. Nevertheless, he propped himelf against the wall of the cantina and glowered at a point on the back of an empty chair as he reviewed what the Admiral had said to him. The orders could still be a test, he reasoned. Perhaps it was a mistake to buy a drink, to even enter the cantina at all? He could always meet Major Suse outside the cantina and not even step into the place. Was that what Admiral Pandrax had wanted, proof of Avige's professionalism?
Avige convinced himself this whole episode was a test, and was half on his way to pour his Corellian Sunset into the nearest planter when he heard a painfully familiar voice.
"Avige!"
Avige stopped in his tracks as a large red blur materialized out of the cantina's dim lighting, coming to a halt just before it knocked him flat off his feet. "Miss Orimar," said Avige, and was rather proud of the fact that his voice betrayed no sign of his imminent despair.
There, standing excitedly before him, was Lixa Orimar, a woman he'd never been adept at discouraging. The beautiful Zeltron wore a bright turquoise outfit today, the garment's gaudy material reflecting hundreds of tiny spangles of light from the cantina's lamps. "I just got off my shift and do you know what, Avige? I just knew I'd find you here, waiting for me!"
"I'm not waiting for you, Miss Orimar, I am actually--"
Giggling, Lixa started to take down her hair from its ridiculous style. "Oh, of course that's what you want everyone to think, Avige, but we both know the truth."
"Oh, do we?" He would humor her.
Lixa gave him a frank stare as she shook her hair loose of its restraints, her hands coming to rest on her hips. "Now, really, Avige, why else would you be visiting the exact cantina I worked at?"
"It must be bizarre coincidence, for this is the same cantina Admiral Pandrax--"
"Oh, the Admiral is such a darling!" interjected Lixa, taking that moment to reapply her glimmering green lipstick.
Avige would have gagged, had he been drinking his Corellian Sunset. "I beg your pardon?"
"That's how I knew your first name! Admiral Pandrax told me you'd be here sometime this week, and he told me your name and your unit number! Isn't that wonderful? Now I can find you whenever we're in the same sector!"
What, Avige wondered, had he ever done to the Admiral to deserve such a low blow as this? He felt betrayed.
Lixa was not finished speaking. "...he told me, 'Avige might need a girl like you to loosen him up when he's off the job.' And so I told him I would find you and, well...loosen you up." She batted her long eyelashes at him, an effect which accentuated her silvery eyes.
Blinking, Avige tried to remember what had been about to say. "The-the Admiral was here at this cantina? And he said I needed to loosen up?" It wouldn't surprise him in the least if Admiral Pandrax had multiple personalities, for this rendering of his superior officer did not match Avige's conclusions about him at all. However, he supposed he should expect anything after the Admiral's previous comments to Avige about Lixa...
"Oh, look!" Lixa pointed unashamedly at Avige's uniform. "You've been promoted! Now--" she started to giggle again. "Oh, dear, now you're Major Hart!" As she said this, she formed her hands into a heart over her chest, giggling uproariously.
"Don't I know it," said Avige bitterly, under his breath. Lixa would be around the fiftieth person to point out the ridiculous pun.
"What?"
"Nothing, Li-Miss Orimar." Now he was calling her Lixa, Avige thought to himself in horror. They were on a first name basis, now.
"I think it's cute," said Lixa, dropping her hands.
Avige wanted to say, 'You would,' but held his tongue. "The name does not lend itself well to respect among Imperial ranks."
Lixa laughed at him, swatting him lightly with her fingertips. "You're so funny, Avige. I told all the girls in the Corps about you, you know, and they think you're hilarious."
All the girls in the Corps? Avige did not know if he should be flattered or mildly insulted, but before he had time to decide which he heard a loud shriek from behind Lixa. "Is that him, Lixa? Your officer?"
With a returning shriek, Lixa waved a hand at the woman's voice. "Diona! Come and see, it's the Major!"
Afterwards, Avige was never certain what happened when Lixa said these words. All he could remember was a cacophony of shrieks and squeals, a rush of bodies towards him, and an overwhelming wall of scent: floral, earthy, crisp, and musky. The scents muddled his wits until he had trouble seeing. The next moment, he was engulfed in a sea of glittery clothing and ruby-red skin. He caught glimpses of perfectly thin faces and admiring eyes, and several voices talking at once.
"Oh, Major, you're just like I imagined you!"
"My name's Niellian!"
"No wonder Lixa likes you!"
"He's so cute!"
Avige staggered under the weight of so many dazzling admirers. He found himself wishing Lixa would appear and make the swarm of smell, sight, and sound go away. At least he knew what to expct from her. From what he could tell, however, the dancer was basking in the light of showing off "her" officer.
"Major...Hart?"
Snapping suddenly back into reality, Avige peered around the cantina. Standing in the doorway, a group of five Imperial troops gawked at him, the foremost of them wearing the same rank sigil as himself. It took him a moment to realize the Major--undoubtedly Major Suse--had to be addressing him. "Y-yes?" Avige's reply stretched on longer than usual.
The cloud of scent and rubies around him receded. "Oh," he heard a woman saying, "are you Major Hart's friends?"
"What--" Major Suse began, still staring at Avige.
The swarm of red moved over to the other troops.
"Lixa, why didn't you tell us the Major had friends with him?"
"Oh, look, one of them is a Major, too!"
"I just love a man in uniform!"
"Hello, Major Suse," said Avige.
Major Suse did not reply, too swallowed up by beautiful Zeltron women to respond. Beside Avige, Lixa laughed. "Now my girls in the Corps have a chance of getting to know some officers like I have!"
Avige sighed. Without question, this day had been a total waste in regards to Imperial business. "Tell me, Lixa...do you plot out ways to sidetrack servants of the Emperor, or is it an innate talent of yours?"
******
For the next three days, Avige found no refuge from the more accomplished comedians on his ship. He had returned from his expedition to Obroa-Skai covered in Zeltron pheromones with his face coated in multi-colored lipstick. He had not remembered the many kisses Lixa's friends had lavished upon him until after his arrival at the ship, and then he was never allowed to forget them.
"You mean you didn't even know, sir?" His lieutenant kept asking him incredulously. "You don't even remember being surrounded by Zeltron women?"
To this question, Avige repeated the same answer. "I remember now, Lieutenant. Attend to your duties."
His men hastily stifled their snickering whenever he came along, humming innocently through their duties. Regardless, the rumors about "Major Heart" started up again. They became thrown so out of proportion that he was now considered one of the most dashing officers in the Empire. One trooper had even whispered to one of his friends about the fourteen girls Avige had distributed throughout the Core Worlds. What amazed his men most of all was the fact that Avige had never had one day of shore leave in his life.
Avige always turned deep scarlet when he caught someone mumbling these rumors about him, and assigned the culprit cleaning duty for a week. He attributed this humiliation to his lovely friend Lixa and her dancer associates.
When the time came for his meeting with the bounty hunter Elitas Rev, over half his crew volunteered to accompany him down to the planet. He had been forced to order them back to their duties four times before they obeyed, and only then because he threatened to confine them all to quarters without mess for two standard days. He narrowed his ground party to seven men, all of which had not made snide remarks about his reasons for returning to Obroa-Skai.
"When we make contact with the bounty hunter," Avige said, clicking the safety off his blaster and strapping it into its holster, "I want everyone but Lieutenant Graves to fall back and provide cover for us. That way, if Rev or one of her cohorts has something up their sleeve, we will not be caught unawares." He noticed the glum look this news had brought to his men's faces. "Is this plan distasteful for reasons I cannot fathom? Joc-Siphes, what happened to our morale?"
The undercover stormtrooper Errol Joc-Siphes looked down, plainly embarassed. "Well, sir, no one wants to get too far away from you."
"Why not? The bounty hunter isn't that lethal, from what I can tell."
"It's not that, sir. It's..." Joc-Siphes coughed unnecessarily. "You see, sir, we were hoping, if we stuck close enough to you, we'd share some of your good luck with...um..."
"With exotic ladies," supplied another trooper, Balon Triferra, helpfully.
Avige willed his face not to burst into color. "I see. Thank you, Triferra. Your contribution to this discussion has just earned you the outdoor station of this bodyguard contingent."
Triferra groaned. "I was only being honest, sir."
"I'm sure you were, which is exactly why you're staying outside the cantina." As an Imperial officer, Avige knew he had to keep his men in line to preserve a healthy image to the public. Having his men clustered around him chatting up Zeltron girls would not polish off the Imperial image. "There will be no exotic women included in this meeting, do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," answered the seven troopers, without much fervor. Avige thought he heard one of them mutter, "There goes our chances of having any fun. Nice job, Balon."
The eight of them took a shuttle down to Obroa-Skai, leaving Shadowfire hanging over them like an enormous hawk-bat. Avige was rather paranoid about having non-personnel on his ship, especially non-personnel with criminal records, so he met with contacts planetside whenever possible.
The seven stormtroopers talked in subdued tones while the shuttle landed, occasionally eyeing Avige with disappointment in their eyes. Avige almost felt guilty for letting them down--then remembered why they were disappointed. He thought about telling them, "This is for your own good," but figured none of them would agree with that statement. Maybe, After hoped, after this episode, they could spread the word to their fellow troopers that "Major Heart" was simply a figment of some people's imaginations.
They approached the cantina just in time for the meeting. Avige directed three of his men to wait outside then placed the other four around the cantina. Other Majors voiced their doubts about Avige's tendency to put too many bodyguards around him, but after his run-in with the assassin on Corellia, he had decided not to take any chances with personal safety.
Once the troopers were settled in, Avige and Lieutenant Graves made their way into the dense cantina air, searching for their contact. They spotted her in a booth at the far wall, a tall and lithe woman dressed in typical bounty hunter's garb. Her blaster was resting on the table in plain sight, which put Avige a little more at ease. "There she is," he said to Graves.
"Yes, sir," answered Graves, a tad more hopefully than Avige liked.
"I believe she's just a human, Graves."
"Are you certain, sir?"
Avige strode toward the table. "There is only one way to find out."
Elitas Rev looked up as they slid into the booth, with Graves on the inside and Avige on the outside. Avige saw her eyes widen slightly when her gaze met his, and her mouth moved in a word that he couldn't decipher. The expression quickly left her face, however, and she smiled, jerking her head in greeting. "Major Hart, I presume."
Avige did not want to waste time on pleasantries. "Do you have any information for us yet?"
Rev quirked an eyebrow. "Do you always start negotiations like this?"
"We are here for a business transaction, aren't we?"
"Of course, Major, but that doesn't mean we can't be friendly to each other." The woman leaned away from them. "However, if it's business, it's business. I found some traces of a possible cyber-terrorist in the underground here, but the description didn't quite fit the kind of hacker we're looking for."
"Rebels are terrorists, bounty hunter." Avige wondered what other kinds of terrorists there could be wandering the galaxy. As far as he could tell, there was no conflict taking place on Obroa-Skai that would inspire terrorism.
Shrugging, Rev said, "That's a matter of opinion, Major. But this man wasn't the one we're looking for, I checked on him. Even if he was our hacker, he isn't any more."
Lieutenant Graves frowned. "How can you be sure?"
Rev smiled slowly. "Because he's dead."
Avige sighed inwardly. This is why he disliked bouny hunters; they considered themselves their own crime and punishment system. "Nevermind that, then. Has your partner had any success locating the source of the hacking?"
"Some, but I told him not to proceed further until we had a solid deal." She sat back and crossed her arms. "So, gentlemen, what is your price?"
Pursing his lips, Avige calulated in his head. "Five thousand credits."
"No deal, Major. I couldn't have a jawa spit-shine my ship for that much."
"Seven thousand?"
"Ten thousand, at least."
Ten thousand? Did the woman think credits grew on Massassi trees? "Listen, bounty hunter--"
Avige's sentence was drowned out by a loud gasp from his left. He looked over and saw, to his dismay, Lixa Orimar. The dancer had her shoulder bag in her hand, which meant she had been ready to leave for the day when she had seen him. Lixa's eyes were round and tragic, her mouth partially open. As he watched, she looked at Rev, back to him, and then ran full-tilt back into the depths of the cantina. She had not made her exit fast enough for Avige not to see that she'd started to cry.
Something twitched in Avige at the sight of the dancer's retreating figure. He remembered the reason he had met Lixa. That Rodian had stolen her purse and made her cry, and now, he thought dejectedly, Avige himself had made cry. True, he had no idea why he'd made her cry, but he very much wanted to find out. The desire to run after the Zeltron unnerved him greatly.
However, desire outweighed unease in this case, and talking with a bounty hunter never had been his favorite pastime. He had a feeling Lieutenant Graves wouldn't mind being alone with the woman, anyway. "Wait here for me to come back," he told Graves, sliding neatly out fo the booth. "Don't raise the price beyond twenty thousand, don't ask her out on a date, and do remember you're representing the Empire at this meeting."
Graves stared at him, bemused. "Major, what--"
But Avige had already run off, barging his way through the part of the cantina into which he'd seen Lixa disappear. The patrons of the establishment took one look at his uniform and cleared the way, making his path much easier to travel. He ran down a narrow hallway, past the entrance to the bar, and into what was obviously the quarters for employees. Avige stopped abruptly as he heard the sounds of a woman crying. He followed the sound to the door of one of the living quarters.
Avige knocked. "Lixa?" There was a drop in the crying from within, and then the door swung open to reveal Lixa, her eyes rimmed by thick black makeup. "What in space is the matter with you?" demanded Avige, alarmed by the amount of tears it would take to spread makeup so far from her eyes.
Gulping, Lixa started to cry again. "You!"
"I'm the matter with you? What is that supposed to mean?"
"You--with--with--her!" She glared at him as though he had done her an injurious wrong.
Avige frowned. What was she talking about? "With who?"
"With that bounty hunter bogwitch, that's who!" cried Lixa, pearly tears dripping down her face. "Here I thought I was the only girl you liked--"
"Lixa, I don't--"
"I thought I was your girlfriend--"
"But you aren't--"
"And now I find out that you're with a bounty hunter! I never would have thought it of you, Avige!" She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
Helplessly, Avige shrugged. "Lixa, I'm not with that bouny hunter. We were just doing business."
"Oh, I can only imagine what kind of business she does!" Lixa said from between her hands.
Bizarrely, Avige felt like laughing. It was, after all, a very comical situation, even though his role in the misunderstanding was not funny in the least. "Lixa, I was meeting that bounty hunter to discuss a matter that concerns the Empire. It was not a romantic rendevous, despite what my lieutenant wishes."
"Then why did you have to meet with a girl?" sniffed Lixa, wiping at her face and succeeding in smudging her makeup even more.
"She seemed a capable candidate for the job."
"Oh, I'll bet she does," said Lixa in a choked voice, tears wet across her face.
"Lixa..." Avige stared at her tear-stained face. "Lixa, please don't cry."
"But I thought you liked me," said the dancer miserably, hiccupping.
The words were out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying. "I do like you, Lixa."
"But not enough to stop hanging around with other women."
"I told you, she's--" Avige felt he should explain himself to her. "Elitas Rev is just someone who can help me find an enemy of the Empire, and that is all. I do not think of her as a woman." He knew Rev probably would not appreciate that idea. "Besides, she's not nearly as pretty as you are."
Lixa put her hands down from her face. "You really think so?"
At the moment, with her face besmirched with makeup, she did not look quite so attractive, but Avige knew this wasn't the time to say so. "I really do."
"Oh, Avige, that's so sweet of you," said Lixa, smiling fractionally. "Are you sure you aren't just saying that to make me feel better?"
Avige felt like rolling his eyes. Of all the cliche things to say... "You're very beautiful, and you know it."
Lixa nodded. "Okay."
"Are you all right, now?" Avige handed her the rag he usually kept for cleaning carbon out of his blaster. "Here, clean some of that--whatever it is--off your face."
"Oh, no." Lixa clapped a hand to her cheek. "I'm sure I look terrible. Don't look at me, Avige!"
"Too late."
"Oh..." Lixa went to the tap in the back of her room and started cleaning her face.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Avige turned around. "I really must get back to my men. They'll wonder where I've gone. You wouldn't want them to think you attacked me, would you?"
"Don't be silly, Avige," said Lixa, giggling. "But, wait! Before you go, let me give you something." She took a small object from her table, skipped back to where he stood, and leaned forward, slipping a strand of rough string around his neck.
Avige fingered the string and looked at the object dangling from the end of its length. "A crystal?"
"Isn't it lovely? I bought it at the trade center, here."
Avige held it up to the light, noticing the glints of deep green in the crystal's center. "It's quite captivating."
"I thought you'd like it." Lixa beamed at him, then turned back to the tap. "I bought one for myself, too. I thought they would make good substitutes for engagement rings."
Because he was still studying the crystal, Lixa's words nearly passed over him. "Did you--did you say engagement?"
"Yes!" Dabbing gently at her face, Lixa did not even look his way. "We have to get engaged before we get married, Avige. That's just how it's done."
"Who said anything about getting married?" stammered Avige.
"Well, you never did, so I thought I should."
"But--but--"
"Don't worry, Avige, we won't need a big ceremony. In fact, we could just get married really soon, so I could go with you when you leave Obroa-Skai."
"Lixa--"
She looked over at him, her silvery eyes alight with happiness. The things he had been about to say died in his throat. He liked seeing her happy, he realized suddenly. Avige sighed. "I am going to return to the planet in three days to check up on the bounty hunter's progress. If you can be ready be then, we'll get married."
Lixa laughed. "All right, but I don't see why we'd have to wait that long."
"Well, I really must get back to my men," said Avige wryly.
She laughed again. "Oh, Avige, haven't you noticed them standing there this whole time?"
Whirling around, Avige felt his face turn bright red as all seven of his stormtroopers and Lieutenant Graves burst into a chorus of whistles and catcalls. The stormtroopers applauded while Lieutenant Graves shook Avige's hand. "Well done, Major!" he hooted gleefully, grinning. "You've landed yourself a Zeltron woman!"
For a moment, Avige struggled for words, feeling like a large hand had cut off his air supply by grabbing his throat. Having his men watch as a woman proposed to him was twice as mortifying as all the rumors about "Captain Heart" and "Major Heart" combined. Finally, he fought down his embarassment and found his voice. "She is not a Zeltron woman, Lieutenant Graves. She's Lixa."