They say that the deeper you go into the caverns within the islands of the Vaynai Archipelago, the seedier and more dangerous the crowds become. This was exactly what Craeldo was counting on.

After having parted company with Shalla and Abras, he wandered for a few hours through the shops and a few tapcafes along the Promenade and, while they were all fine establishments, there was something they lacked. There were few there willing to talk, a major deficiency for one trying to dig up some information… any information on the locals or items of interest. That was his job and indeed his passion, to find out what he could for either his personal use or for the use of the highest bidder. So there was nowhere to go but down.

To say that Dominik's Alehouse was typical would have been an understatement. It looked a hundred other smoke-filled, jizz-wailing cantinas across the galaxy, but unlike the clean, upscale establishments on the Promenade, this was the type of environment where his kind would most likely be found.

Strolling through the front entryway, Crae scanned the room for anything interesting. Assorted alien barflies, check. Surly looking bartender, check. Overworked, underpaid band, check. Most of the beings around the room were either in a daze, drunken beyond comprehension, or passed out all together, but there was one group, gathered around a circular durasteel table towards the back right corner of the alehouse, that looked exactly like the ones he had been searching for. They were a group of mostly older beings, having looked like they hadn't bathed in months, but despite all this, they appeared to be the most promising group in the room as they were all deep in conversation, and a boisterous conversation at that, as they drank from their mugs. Almost as if it were divine providence, there was one empty seat at the table.

The Rodian passed through one acrid plume of smoke on his way to the main counter, causing him to cough as it began to seep into and sting his lungs, and then placed an order to the bartender for a Corellian Ale. It wasn't his usual drink, but he wanted to fit in to the group as much as possible. Placing down the appropriate amount of credits and taking up his mug, giving a curt nod to the barkeep as he did, he quickly made his way over to the table and slid into the empty seat as their conversation, but as soon as he did all eyes were on him.

"'Ello, what 'ave we 'ere," one of the three older looking humans among the crowd of eight grumbled.

"Pardon me, gents," Craeldo began, taking a big swig from his mug in imitation of the others. "I could help but notice that you seemed to be the only source of lively conversation in this place. Hope ya don't mind if I join in."

"Eh, do as you will," commented a Dug in the seat across from him in its native language.

"We're only ones in this dump who can hold their liquor," a crusty Aqualish grunted, to the intoxicated laughs and grumbles of approval from his colleagues.

Crae merely raised an eyebrow and forced a smile, taking another drink of the ale.

"Anyway, as I was sayin'…" This time, it was another of the humans who spoke up, pausing briefly to chug his drink and let out a loud belch, also to the approval of the others. "It seems ol' Memm had another break-in the other week."

"Eh, you don't say? Fools just keep comin'. What they do with this one?"

"Memm let the authorities take this one. 'e'll probably be exiled to the Boiling Sea or somet'in."

"Excuse me for interrupting…" To the Rodian's chagrin, every heavy-eyed being paused and locked eyes on him again. "But who is this Memm person you're talking about?"

The Dug barked a laugh. "Eh, we got a freshie outlander here!"

"You mean you don't know who Gallo Memm is?" the second of the humans inquired, looking quite peculiar in his puzzled state.

"No, I'm afraid I don't."

"Well then, listen up, freshie, and I'll fill ya' in on some things. Gallo Memm is the Nimbanel noble who owns the topside estate on Streysel Island. As you may know, the closer to the surface and the higher up the island you go, the more prestigious the person, and ol' Memm is at the top of the food chain here."

"Memm is a big time collector of rare and ancient artifacts, so he is often frequented by thieves and the like seeking somethin' they can call there own." It was the Aqualish who spoke this time. "And, out of necessity, he has established a very sophisticated security system up there, as well as having a crack team of Weequay body guards patrollin' the estate. If they catch someone snoopin' about, the guards will either kill them themselves, or hand them over to the authorities for trial. The nobles of Vaynai are notorious for wanting absolute privacy, and the local laws reflect it. Severe repercussions can come."

The third human, who had been mostly quiet thus far, finally looked up and wiped a mustache of foam from his upper lip. "I'll add one t'ing to that, though. There has been an occasion where, if Memm is well enough impressed, he'll offer them employment to help better protect his preciouses, as long as they return anything they took."

Craeldo's eyes were aglow, partly from his infatuation and partly from on-coming intoxication, as he took in every precious bit of info. "So how do these people usually break into the Memm estate?"

"Dere are several ways," the first man droned, "all of which are ripe with failure. One way is t' try and scale the cliff, but then ya gotta watch out for guards walkin' the pathway along the perimeter of the island. Then there's an airborne or vehicular attack, but then ya got the turbolaser batteries to deal with and the fact that the guards could hear ya comin' up the cliff. One of the most popular ways, though, is t' impersonate one of the pilgrims going to the Temple of Kooroo topside."

"The Temple of Kooroo?"

"Aye. An old stone temple that predated the establishment of his estate. Being a collector of the ancient, Memm didn't want t' tear it down, so he allows the pilgrims to continue to come and pray or whatever it is they do. This way, though, isn't fool proof 'cause besides having to be patted down and checked by the guards at the turbolift to the estate, you are then escorted to the temple once you get up there, which is itself under guard by the Weequay, so if you wanted t' do anythin', you'd have to find a way out without being noticed."

"You're not thinkin' of pulling something, are ya freshie?" joked a Pacithhip seated beside him.

"No no no! Not at all! I was just curious for more information is all."

"Well, it's not like we care if you do or not. It's your own dumb fault if you're fool enough to try and attempt it."

A smile on his face, Crae leaned back in his chair, hands cupped behind his head. "Yeah, well, I'm only interested in information, not ancient artifacts. Besides, I've grown quite accustomed to living."

"A wise move, freshie."

Almost in unison, all of those assembled paused and took an ample drink of their Corellian Ales, then wiping dirty faces on their shirt sleeves before continuing on.

"Now den, where was I…"

-

The sky was awash in a sea of color as the evening sun began to sink beneath the distant horizon of the mirrored sea; two silhouettes stood in contrast against it all as they made their way across the bridge to an alabaster tower which rose from that same water. The two cousins, Marikk and Loon, were dressed in their usual garb, an outfit of black and blue for the former and elaborately decorated red and green robes for the latter, though all of this now presented in a rather pristine condition, but Loon had also added to his outfit an official Financial Advisor's collar, a status symbol of the Neimoidian people which he wore only on special business occasions. They both walked with bodies straight and postures firm as they approached the headquarters of Fil'vye Transport. Neither said a word, this out of the seriousness in which they were holding themselves and not for any strife amongst them, as they entered through the broad double doors embedded in the face of the stark white building.

A slight chill bit at the skin inside the main foyer. It was nearly empty now, much to the contrast of when Marikk had last been. A few crowds, most likely prospective traders, fellow job-seekers or returning freighter captains, stood at various spots across the broad circular chamber. There were lounge sets and waiting areas placed in strategic areas across the room, each decorated with various potted plants or pieces of artwork, and this is where most of the crowds were now situated, though a few stood at the arced secretarial desk opposite the main entrance and directly in front of the lift tube to the upper levels where the two cousins were now headed. Behind that desk, or more appropriately, behind the young human female that was working busily there, stood a distinguished-looking human male, his head completely bald and giving off a slight sheen from the chamber's lighting, that seemed to be watching their approach.

"Captain Danar, I presume!" the man called out as he waved his right arm over his head, his flowing blue sleeve billowed around it. "I am Alphric Zahn, personal assistant to Mr. Fil'vye." When the duo approached within a few steps, he reached out and vigorously shook both of their hands, the speed of which caught them by surprise.

"We had heard through local channels that your ship had arrived on planet, and, well, when we… when Mr. Fil'vye had heard that you had visited earlier, he wanted to make sure he got the chance to meet with you in person when you returned."

Marikk and Loon alike were wide-eyed at this revelation. Sure, the Mercs had begun to make a name for themselves in the underworld, and even beyond, sometimes for better or for worse, but this was the first time they had heard of an admirer.

"This is quite the honor," the Captain finally managed to say, the words falling clumsily from his lipless mouth. "I have heard it is hard enough to get a meeting with your boss, but to be invited before even having one interview!"

"It is indeed an honor, my friends, and one who's scope I'm sure you cannot yet comprehend considering Mr. Fil'vye's considerable importance on Vaynai and in several other sectors across the galaxy. There are even some Hutts who are jealous of his business savvy and success in the field…" Alphric went on and on for several minutes, gushing and boasting of his employers credentials and achievements, all of which the cousins tried to force themselves to smile through though they desperately wanted to laugh, roll their eyes, or something to relieve the pressure of having to listen to what they knew were obviously over-blown lies or simply boot-licking, despite the fact that his employer was not present. As long as this Fil'vye paid well enough, they would stand there all day and force those faux smiles upon their tired faces. Finally, as his spiel began to come to a close, they began to relax and revert to simply nodding in agreement when Zahn finally folded his arms, which had previously been flailing about as he spoke, over his chest and turned to hold his body perpendicular to the lift behind him and the Danars. "Anyway, enough of our little chitchat, Mr. Fil'vye awaits and we shouldn't keep him waiting as it is soon time for his dinner."

The lifttube they entered was lined from floor to ceiling with chrome detailing, save for the transparisteel windows that made up the bulk of its body, which caused it to stand in gleaming contrast to the pure white of the rest of the tower on which it rested. It was a beautiful view out onto the ocean as the trio ascended the buildings sided in silence. Not long afterwards, after traveling up two floors, they came to the level which held the corporate offices. As Zahn was soon to explain, they could not access Mr. Fil'vye's penthouse office by means of the main lift but had to change over to a private lifttube that would take them up the remaining level to where they were to arrive. This next lift, hidden away on the opposite side of the buildings from the last, was much more ornately designed, and completely enclosed. There was a hint of sweet spices in the air and soft music playing in the background as they began the last leg of their journey, standing motionless upon the marble-laid floor. Within seconds, the door in front of them parted, revealing a surprisingly airy chamber with a panoramic view of the ocean all around.

The trio stepped out slowly and Marikk and Loon were quickly caught off guard as the lifttube they had been in retreated and disappeared beneath the flooring not long after they exited. Directly across from them sat an expansive, arcing desk that seemed to reach around a rounded-back chair that rested behind it on both sides, all of which bore the same white coloring of the floor of the chamber and the building itself. There, behind that desk, the Bothan shipping magnate Onoron Fil'vye sat, watching them with interest. To their surprise, he was much smaller in build and stature than they had imagined. Bearing his fangs in a smile, he ran a hand through the spikey crop of hair that ran down the center of his head and then waved his hand forward, offering to his visitors two egg-like chairs, colored like the rest of the room's sterile motif, that sat perched directly opposite his desk.

The Duro took the lead, his eyes glancing at six burly, force pike-armed Klatooinians that stood at specific stations across the chamber, and sat down upon the plush red upholstery of the egg-chair, his cousin following suit while Alphric Zahn stood, head lowered and arms folded behind the back of his sky blue tunic, near where they had entered.

Fil'vye's small body straightened itself within the confines of his chair as he steepled his fingers in front of face. "Captain and Mister Danar, a pleasure to meet the both of you. I am Onoron Fil'vye."

"So I figured, sir," Marikk quipped as he bowed his head momentarily in respect, "and the pleasure is all ours. I must say, hearing that you wanted to meet with us was quite a surprise."

"I like to keep track of those who come and go from my buildings through our extensive surveillance system and identification database, so when I found out that the Captain Marikk Danar had visited our establishment…well, I knew I had to meet with him."

"I'm sorry to be so nosey, sir, but how in the galaxy do you know about us? I mean, we're quite good at we do, yes, but we've hardly become household names in the galaxy… yet."

"A fair question, Captain." The Duro noticed curiously that, as Fil'vye lowered his hands down into his lap, there was a sparkle, an almost child-like excitement, in his eyes. "To put it simply, I've become quite a fan of yours, ever since I heard about your maneuvers around Myto's Arrow over a year ago. Ever since then, I've made it a habit to try and find out what I can about your adventures across the galaxy."

Though he did his best to keep a rather jovial look to his face, the mention of the incident at Myto's Arrow, a previously abandoned travel route fraught with dust storms, nebulae and other obstacles, both annoying and dangerous, made him want to cringe, and most likely the same was true for Loon. On what should have been a relatively routine transport job for an underworld organization, one of their smaller mining operations on Dantooine wanted some resources they had mined on the planet transported to one of their outposts in the Obtrexta Sector.

Marikk and his crew, therefore, decided to travel the Arrow in the hopes of avoiding any unwanted attention but, ironically, ran afoul a pirate fleet that had made its home in the asteroid ruins of a planet that had once been found along the route. It was a grand chase through the asteroid field's deadly maze, a skirmish with an impromptu pirate blockade, and then the final showdown with their pursuers through a crimson Dark Nebulae just on the border of the system that made up the bulk of their encounter Like most of their major adventures in which Marikk's Mercs often found themselves in over their heads, this one was no exception, but, with their ship literally crumbling around them, they were able to finally escape the pirates' grasps and high-tail it to Obtrexta.

With as many situation like that that they had had in their nearly two and a half years of existence, Marikk wondered how much of the original Nova Hound was actually still hanging on to their ship.

"I have connections with a few corporations based out of the Obtrexta Sector from whom I'd originally heard the tale. It's become near legend in those parts because there are few who have met up with those accursed pirates in their own territory and have survived." Fil'vye continued speaking, even as the Captain was lost in thought, "Anyway, lately though, I've heard you ran into a little bit of trouble with the Imperials on Brentaal."

At first there was no response, but when his cousin remained silent for just so long, Loon planted an elbow into the Duro's side and watched as he snapped back to reality, shaking his head vigorously. "Wha… oh, dear… my apologies, Mr. Fil'vye, it's just that your mention of Myto's Arrow brought up some bad memories. Now then, Brentaal you said? Yea, we did have a little run in there and around Chandrilla, and it's actually because of all that that we're on Vaynai, to get our ship repaired."

Fil'vye's tan-coated head bobbed up and down in reply. "I see, I see. Very interesting. Well then, enough of my fan gushing. Let us get down to the business at hand, which might be…"

This time, Loon leaned forward, deciding to take over for his cousin, whether Marikk had wanted him to or not, as they began to enter into his area of expertise. "My cousin and I have come here today, my dear Mr. Fil'vye, in search of work from your fine company for those of us within Marikk's Mercs, if you would obliges us so. If you have followed our career as well as you have said, and I have know doubt you are a man of your word, then you should know that we will do whatever task you might have for us to the best of our abilities and according to your expectations. Be assured, you are in safe hands with Marikk's Mercs."

"No doubt, I'm sure." The tone of the Bothan's voice lowered significantly as he said this, steepling his hands once more. That glimmer which had been in his eyes was now gone. He was all business. "There are a few things we must discuss, though. First thing, knowing your past and the nature of some of you 'adventures', are there any bounties, Imperial or otherwise, currently on the heads of any member of your crew."

Marikk shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of."

"Good. Now, are there any cargoes you are not willing to handle?"

"Are there any differences in pay for transporting legal versus illegal cargo?" Loon quickly injected before his cousin could answer, at which, in response, the Bothan's nostrils began to flare.

"Mr. Danar, I'll have you know that Fil'vye Transport does not participate in the movement of explicitly illegal goods to any system in the Empire. We try to keep all of our operations to the highest code of the shipping mandates under Imperial law." Fil'vye paused, his eyes narrowing and a slight curl rising from the corners of his lips. "However, there are times when we do ask our pilots to transport… our more 'sensitive' cargoes with a greater attitude of discretion for its protection. Not that we have anything to hide, of course, but we just want to make sure that in those cases what we're shipping makes it there without any unwanted interruptions. In those cases, then yes, there is a slight pay increase, but overall Fil'vye Transport gives a straight fee to most of the pilots under our employ, depending on the level of difficulty of the assignment."

"And what fees do you generally pay…?"

"3,000 credits for a beginner's run; 4,500 for the moderate trips; 6,000 for the harder ones."

Leaning forward in his seat, the Neimoidian hybrid waved Onoron closer, which he did oblige. "Listen, can we talk… businessman to businessman? Seeing that you know our credentials, and we have an entire ship to support, what say we talk a straight pay of, say, 10,000 credits?"

"10,000!? I don't even pay my own top pilots that much, besides the fact that we haven't even talked about the difficulty of the job, if I give you one at all."

"Look at it this way, though, Mr. Fil'vye. You won't have to supply a ship for the operation since we have our own, and we would of course be taking care of the maintenance and operations ourselves. Then, also, you would be getting a crew of eight for just over the price of what you would pay for a ship of one to perform a high-level mission for you. A crew with some relative name recognition and an independent ship. Quite economical, if I do say so myself."

Fil'vye grinned, though the look of the predatory businessman was still in his eyes. "You are a very shrewd dealer, Mr. Danar, and I can respect that. What say I bargain for 7,500?"

"10,000," Loon bluntly replied.

"8,000, and not a penny more."

"10,000."

"8,500."

"10,000."

"Alright, alright." The Bothan's brow knitted as he rubbed gently the space between his eyes and sighed. "10,000 credits, as agreed upon, but I get to choose the difficulty of the mission."

"Then it's agreed."

Extending his hand, the half-Neimoidian took the Bothan's furry paw in his and exchanged a firm handshake.

"Good. I'll look through our database and pick out a mission… most appropriate for a crew, and a fee, of such standing. Contact me when your ship is ready and we'll get the final details hammered down." Onoron rose to his feet, standing just shorter than Marikk's shoulder, and shook both of their hands once more. "Again, it was a pleasure to meet both of you. I hope that our relationship will be… most profitable in the days to come. Mr. Zahn will see you out. Have a pleasant evening."

At the beckon of the middle-aged human who still stood motionless close to where they had entered, the two cousins stood from there seats, exchanged quick nods of farewell with Mr. Fil'vye, and made their way over towards the lift as it arose once more at the command of the Bothan Entrepaneur's control console embedded in the arm of his chair. Marikk kept a somber glance at his feet as he made his slowly and entered into the lifttube with his companions. As wonderful as it was that they had managed to get a job for themselves, and to make a few more credits in the process, he wondered what situation exactly Loon had gotten them into. That look upon the face of Fil'vye, that spirit of the shrewd businessman that rose from him, he knew that whatever job they were gonna receive, they were gonna work and sweat for every one of those ten-thousand credits. The stars help them.

-

"Will that be everything today, ma'am?"

Naemi glanced up from her change purse to the Kubaz clerk who was placing her items into the cloth sack she had carried in with her and nodded ardently. Liquid adhesive, high-tension cable, smoke canister, micro-energy cells, and a vial of hypnocane. These caverns were wonderfully ripe with one-stop shops for the girl who needs everything and needs it unseen. Reaching into the little purse in her hand, she withdrew a hand full of cred-chips and slid them with a grin across the counter, all the while taking her bag of supplies in hand. A wink and a nod to the clerk and she made her way swiftly out the door and into the shadowed underground avenue.

Pushing through the crowds, she managed to overhear a slight whine which she soon recognized to be her utility chronometer. She lifted her wrist and adjusted the controls on its side which caused the face of the timekeeper to dissolve and soon after be replaceded by a static-filled gray-green image of an insectoid protocol droid. "Whatcha need, 7-LOM?"

"My apologies for disturbing you while on your errand, Mistress," came the droid's raspy yet penitent tone through the small speakers, "but I just wanted to inform you that your equipment has been laid out upon your bunk, as requested, and that the delivery person for your and Master Marikk's dinners has arrived."

"Great!" The young Zeltron grinned as she pushed through another group of loiterers in the pathway, still staring down at the commlink. "I should be back soon, but if you and Zee would be dears and get everything set up before I'd get back, that would be fabulous."

There was a whistle of compliance in the background while 7-LOM himself bowed. "It will be done as you request, Mistress Naemi."

In the pathway ahead, the faint glow of artificial light signaled her approach back to the Promenade. Because of the fact that night had fallen, there would be little problem adjusting as she exited the caverns since the only light down there came from the occasional lighting emplacement and patches of bioluminescent fungus. That was one of the main dangers of the underground, though. You couldn't always see who or what was around the next corner, or who was watching you from the shadows, as was the case now with Naemi as she made her way towards her ship, her home. The eyes of a stranger were locked upon her with keen interest.

-

Marikk walked with slow steps across the bridge from the promenade to the landing platform, his heart aflutter as he moved beneath the light of a partially covered moon. This was the first such dinner invitation for him, he was reluctant to use the word date, in quite a long time, though it was not for lack of trying. Much to his crew's chagrin sometimes, the Captain considered himself something of a ladies' man and usually held no qualms about putting that old smirk on his face and swagger in his step when he saw an attractive woman. Naemi, though… Naemi could utterly tear down that façade when she was around and make him sound like a simpering, awkward teenager.

Ok, maybe that was a little bit of an exaggeration, but still… she had some power over him, and it wasn't her Zeltron pheromones.

As he came into the proximity of Naemi's ship, a Banshee-class Heavy Transport dubbed the Sleight of Hand, he began to tug at his collar in discomfort. Instead of his more casual attire, the Nova Hound's Captain opted for a more formal look of a black button-down shirt with a stiff, rounded collar, dress pants and his formal boots, gleaming in the dim light. He glanced up towards the ship's landing ramp as he heard light footsteps approaching and began to straighten his clothing in anticipation of her approach, but what he saw when the being approached from the shadows was not the shapely figure of the young Zeltron woman but a copper-chassied LOM protocol droid with white detailing. Marikk's stomach sunk and began to twist as he watched the droid approach recalling the bad memories culled up from their recent run-in with the bounty hunter 4-LOM.

"Good evening to you, sir," the droid began, stepping in front of Marikk and bowing. "I am 7-LOM, Mistress Naemi's personal assistant. You must be Master Marikk. If you'll follow me, sir, I shall take you to you table."

"Table?" he muttered to himself as he accompanied the shuffling protocol droid around the craft and to the opposite side of the ship. There, on the edge of the circular docking platform, a makeshift awning had been set up and, beneath it, a cargo container had been covered by a red table cloth and transformed into a dining table set with plastic serving ware, plates overflowing with several strips of fried Glaav fish on beds of seaweed, and two mugs of what looked like Kenley's lager, a drink which they had often shared together in past days, all set to the sides of a lantern-like glow lamp. Marikk smirked at the sight, barely noticing as the droid had begun to bow once more and wave out one arm towards the table.

"If you'll please be so kind as to have a seat, Mistress Naemi shall be with you shortly."

With a nod of acknowledgment, he made his way over and took a seat to the left of the 'table' on a smaller crate that had been set up as a chair. A smile broke across his face as he looked over the whole scene and then out over the sea, shimmering in silver light from above. This was far from the fanciest dinner he had ever had, but, for a reunion six years in the making, it was more than adequate. Sniffing the air, he took in the aroma of the fried fish, his eyes widening in realization as he recognized the smell from Uncle Nyyv's restaurant earlier and figured out that she must have ordered take-out for dinner.

In all the days I've known her, Marikk thought as he chuckled to himself and crossed his arms over his chest, I should have figured that she hadn't prepared this. As much as I love her, she never was a decent cook.

Footsteps against the metal of the platform set him to alert as the Duro spun around to see what being, whether droid or organic, approached him from behind.

"You're looking quite handsome this evening, Mare," came Naemi's voice in a playful tone as the two locked eyes. Leaning over, she wrapped her bare arms around his neck and began to place a light kiss on his check, but unexpectedly backed off, nose wrinkled and a disgusted look on her face as she wiped her hand through the air. "By the stars, what is that hideous odor!?"

"Odor?"

"Yes! Mare, I'm sorry to say it, but you smell like a dying bantha!"

Marikk furrowed his brow to the whole situation. "Hey! That's my cologne you're poo-pooing, I'll have you know!"

"Well, poo-poo is right!" the Zeltron snorted as she spoke with her hand clamped on her nose, more for play than anything now. "I'd ask for my money back."

"Duly noted," he droned, brow still heavy on his eyes as Naemi took her seat across from him, her long, dangly silver earrings bobbing about as she adjusted her sleeveless black dress underneath of her to compensate for her new position. "Thank you for the invitation, by the by, Nae. It's good to get to spend some time with you again."

"Not a problem… not a problem, it's my pleasure as well." Picking up her utensils, she began to cut into the first plank of fish and pierced it with her fork; Marikk doing likewise. "You got to meet Sev on the way in?"

"Sev?"

"Yes. 7-LOM, my assistant. He helps me out around the ship by taking care of finances and other arrangements. Part secretary, part butler. I bought he and an astromech, R2-Z6, since we split, to help me keep the ship running."

"Of all things, though, why an LOM? They're meant for Insectoid species, which you most certainly are not."

There was an almost whimsical look on her face as Naemi took a bite from her food and glanced up beyond the awning to the moon above. "I don't know. He's cute I guess. A darling personality, for a protocol droid. Not quite a prissy or nit-picky as some of those TCs or 3P0s."

"Ahh, I see." With a slight grin, Marikk stirred his fork about the plate and around the food absently. "You never did answer my question earlier about what you're doing here. I assume it has something to do with either Fil'vye or Gallo Memm."

"Subtlety never was your strong point, was it, Mare? That's what Krasba always said."

Both of them paused and glanced to the side awkwardly. Even after almost ten years, the mention of that name still was an open wound. After a few seconds though, the Duro shook his head, almost as if he were literally trying to jolt those bad memories away before glaring back over at Naemi. "I can be subtle when I wish to be, and not to mention tenacious. So spill the beans or I'll just keep pestering you, Nae."

In exasperation, the young woman placed a hand on her forehead, a small beaded bracelet sliding down from her wrist to her elbow, and let out a great sigh. "Alright, alright, I'll tell ya'. I was planning to eventually, anyway, since I may need your help."

"My help?"

She nodded. "By what said earlier, I'll assume you've at least heard the name of Gallo Memm. How much do you know about him?"

"I know he's in possession of a rather large gallery of art pieces and ancient artifacts, if that's what you're getting at."

"Yup, right on the nose. Word on the net says that Memm has recently come into possession of something particularly rare off of the antiquities market… a parchment called 'The Scroll of Infinite Enlightenment.' It's value, of course, comes from the particular rarity and age of the artifact, some say even pre-dating the Republic by a few thousand years, and not the mystic mumbo jumbo written on it."

Marikk took his lager in hand and gulped down a good amount of the mug before leaning forward on the table and steepling his elongated fingers in front of his face. There was a mocking air in his voice as he spoke, veiled in feigned sincerity. "And you, out of the kindness of your sweet little Zeltron heart, are going to relieve him of this great burden?"

"Of course." She smirked as she, too, leaned forward and mimicked the Duro's posture. "It's every good little thief's duty. From what I hear, ol' Memm has quite the security set-up around his place, and you know how much I love the challenge." Those words she accented held a sensuousness to them that seemed tickle Marikk's senses and cause goose bumps to form on his arms.

"Yeah, well…" His mind was in a bit of a daze as it fought off that euphoric sensation that gripped him, wondering if she had exuded pheromones unknowingly when she had taken that tone. Like all Zeltrons, she too had the ability to release pheromones to affect those around her, but since she wasn't raised in Zeltron society or around others of her species, she never truly learned how to control them completely and add to this that, by some reason that neither of them ever really understood or explain, Marikk was partially resistant to those pheromones which she released, not falling completely under their spell but merely sent into a relaxed, dreamy state such as he was now. However, now was not the time for mellowing out, and the Duro did his best to shake his mind free, though it took him nearly a minute to do so. When finally he did escape the feeling, he did his best to shape his face into the image of seriousness.

"Wasn't it this love of the challenge," Marikk finally forced out through his azure mouth, "that got you forced into slavery by Vordo the Hutt on Svivren and got that bounty put on our head because of your little adventure to take that sculpture, the Jirdan Spearman, from Denoril Viraxo."

Naemi crossed her hands over her chest and glanced down and off to the side, lower lip extended. "Hey… we escaped Vordo, didn't we? And I charmed Viraxo to let that bounty go."

"And it only cost me 15,000 credits."

"Well, we're alive, aren't we?!" she smirked.

"True, but still, I wish you would pick a slightly safer… and more legal profession to get into." Reaching over, Marikk placed a gentle hand onto her shoulder. "This life as the gallivanting thief is too dangerous. I don't want to see you get hurt, or worse."

"That's why I need you, Mare! I mentioned earlier that I need your help, and well, here it is…" Naemi paused, looking as if she was either gathering her words or the courage to say them, before placing her hand on his and locking eyes with him and smiling warmly. "I need you to be my back-up… stay with the Sleight of Hand in case things go awry. Then, if something does happen, I'll let off a signal from a transponder hidden on me and you and the droids can fly down in the ship, rescue me, and sweep me off into the sunset."

The Duro's face displayed his obvious displeasure. "I don't think you heard a word I said. You can't keep this up, Nae, without one day having to pay the price. It's too dangerous."

"Yeah, not nearly as safe mercenary work," she grumbled under her breath, releasing his hand resuming her withdrawn, pouting position. Suddenly though, from her askew point of view, she raised her eyebrows and glared over at him with rather terse features. "How many options do you think I have to fall back on, Marikk, hmm? It's not like I have a bloomin' repertoire of skills I can use. What would I do? Dance in a cantina? Become a fat old aristocrat's consort? Please! Thieving is all I know. It's all I've ever known since my childhood. You know that as well as I do. I'm not going to give it up, so you might as well stop trying and help me."

"It was a hopeless effort," he bemoaned, head lowered and shoulders slumped. "Alright, alright. I concede. I'll help you, if for no other reason than to keep you from getting yourself killed."

Her sullen exterior quickly morphed into one of pure joy. Jumping up, Naemi leaned across the table and kissed him firmly on the lips. "Oh, thank you, Mare! You won't regret this! And, if everything goes well, I'll let you in on….oh, say, 20%."

"How generous of you," Marikk muttered as he finished the last bits of food from his plate.

"Well, my dear Mare," she commented quickly to his supposedly unheard statement, grinning from ear to ear. "A girl's gotta make a living."

-

The matte black gloved hand gripped the small zipper tightly between her fingers and gingerly pulled it up the front of the dark gray jumpsuit, running slowly over each curve and ending at the top of its collar near the middle of her neck. Naemi rotated her shoulders and stretched lightly as she made herself comfortable in her 'business' outfit.

"Mistress Naemi," came Sev's voice suddenly from the entrance to her small living quarters. She spun around, arms stretched up and behind her head as she looked over and locked eye to multi-faceted eye with the droid. "Master Marikk has been made comfortable in the cockpit and I've asked R2-Z6 to attend to him."

"Very good. You two know my signal, so keep an auditory sensor open for it just in case Mare doesn't pick it up."

Reaching over to her bunk, she picked up a small, non-descript box and flipped open the lid. Inside sat several rows of metallic darts stacked one on another, five across and four deep. The young Zeltron snatched up the first row and then slipped them slowly into a hidden compartment in her elbow length gloves. Thanks to some clever engineering from an older acquaintance of hers, these gloves had many hidden surprises, such as this dart launcher, within them which were invisible to casual inspection. They served her quite well over the past few years.

As she loaded the next row into the opposite glove, completing the rearmament of her supplies within the gloves, she listened as Sev shuffled about behind her for several seconds before coming around in front of her, a blue robe, tunic, and her steel gray belt, another piece of equipment packed with hidden functions, in his arms. There was something odd, though, about the way the droid was holding itself. It almost seemed… anxious, maybe nervous.

"What's wrong?" she asked with a sympathetic tone, taking the tunic and slipping that over her jumpsuit and then the belt and snapping it together around the waist of the blue clothe by its large circular buckle with what looked to be an emerald piece of costume jewelry at its center.

"I… I am worried, Mistress. I do not like it when you rush off into such dangerous situations. Though I am only a droid, I have grown quite fond of you, Mistress." The protocol droid bowed as she took up the cloak from his arm and watched as she put it on and pulled the cowl down over her head. "I do not wish to see you harmed and would like to continue in your service for many years to come."

"Awww, that's so sweet, Sev, but you don't have anything to worry about. I've been in tighter spots before."

Sev lowered his head. "As well I know, Mistress Naemi, and every time I have felt the same way. Only now, though, have I decided to say anything."

"Thank you for your concern, Sevvy," Naemi cooed, leaning over and kissing the droid on the top of the head. "I'll be fine. I've got you… and Zee… and Marikk watchin' over me. If anything happens, I'll let you all know and you all can come to the rescue."

"Yes, of course, Mistress Naemi."

As she snapped the last button at the top of the robe, the Zeltron thief held out her arms and spun around, letting the robe billow around her as if she was modeling an evening gown. "Well, how do I look?"

"You look like quite the appropriate pilgrim, Mistress," the droid chirped in his upbeat tone, eyes glowing with pleasure as he watched his owner.

"Excellent. I guess it's time that I was off then." Clasping her hands together in front of her chest, she glanced out from under the hood to Sev and grinned. "Don't worry, dear, I'll be back."

Naemi took a rather pious expression upon her face, holding her head just slightly up before she began to chant some sort of jibberish in a monotone, near whisper dulcet as she made her way out of her quarters. All the while, Sev stood there and watched her as long as he could, sighing as Naemi disappeared from sight before heading back to join the others on the bridge.