The Amnesty was waiting for her in the Korriban hangar bay. Soarise still wasn't used to this new, sleek ship. The Deliverer had been destroyed back on Balmorra, the ship she had relied on for years before. She couldn't argue that the Amnesty wasn't a fine ship, it really was. Modern and almost luxurious, it was a joy to drive. Still, she missed Deliverer's solid and clunky style.

Outside the ship, Vette sat on a pile of crates, reading a holo magazine. The Twi'lek had been Soarise's companion for a long time; she couldn't imagine life without the chirpy girl at her side. No matter how out of control Soarise felt amidst the violence of her world, Vette provided an anchor of levity that kept her sane.

"Vette," Soarise called, "We're leaving,"

Vette looked up, excited. Her lekku twitched as she hopped off the crates, "Finally! This place is driving me nuts," She closed the magazine and tucked it into her pocket, bounding back on board the ship. Soarise followed behind her, flicking on the lights inside.

Amnesty's center was a circular lounge, with several halls branching out to other rooms of the ship, like the cockpit, barracks, cabin, kitchen, and cargo hold. It was spacious and comfortable, designed to hold about 10 people with plenty of breathing space. The high capacity made it feel empty with only her and Vette, but she couldn't imagine actually having 10 people on board. That would be crazy, though she wondered what it would be like being surrounded by so many people.

Of course, the last time she was a part of a group- the other acolyte trainees- it had been viscous. Cut throat acolytes determined to prove themselves as the best by killing their competitors. That constant fear of being betrayed wasn't something she cared to relive.

After plugging in Tear Point's coordinates, Soarise went back to the lounge. Vette was sprawled out in her usual spot, the padded leather armchair, sitting sideways with her legs hanging over the arm of the chair. She had her magazine back out and was skimming over the pages. Glancing over the top of the magazine, the Twi'lek studied Soarise as she sat down across from her.

"So," Vette said, "Where are we going?"

"Tear Point station. There's been a series of accidents there, and since it's a critical strategic point for a Rakata site, we suspect Desmia may be behind it. Once we get there, we'll decide whether or not we need to be involved,"

"Fantastic. I do love a good mystery. But what kind of station is this? I don't really wanna be stuck in the middle of space with a bunch of Imp officers, you know,"

"I can assure you that you'll be fine. Malavai Quinn is in charge of the station, and he took care of that last time,"

Vette perked up at the name, "Quinn?" She could hardly contain her excitement, "You mean that hot piece of Imperial as-"

"-Vette!" Soarise scolded her before she could finish the description of Malavai.

"Sorry," She said, but her wry smile said otherwise, "You mean that super fine officer who had the hots for you?"

Soarise rolled her eyes, "That wasn't much better. But, yes, I suppose that's correct," A smile fought its way onto her face. There wasn't much point in disguising from Vette that she was excited to see him again. Even though she had only known him for a few days, he was the only person besides Vette that she had ever felt truly comfortable talking to. The fact that he was extremely easy on the eyes-with his fit physique, black hair, blue eyes, and impeccable manners- was a bonus.

"You still like him, too, don't you?" Vette sounded as eager as a high school girl discussing crushes. The last time Soarise had seen her so giddy was, well, the last time they'd been talking about Malavai.

Soarise shrugged nonchalantly, "I can't argue that he has a very pleasing, symmetrical appearance about him that can be interpreted as 'attractive.' But I enjoy his presence because of how efficiently he assists me. Unlike you, he actually helped me get things done,"

Vette grinned, "But mostly you think he's pretty,"

"Fine. He's very pretty," She also remembered looking at the charcoal sketches in his office. And how he had saved her by using his own body as a shield over hers. The tears in his eyes as he mourned the deaths of his men. The feel of his soft lips, tasting of gunpowder and whiskey.

"-Hey, Soarise! Vette calling Soarise, can you read me? Over,"

Soarise shook herself out of the reverie. That was stupid. If she planned on doing a proper investigation, she shouldn't let herself be so easily distracted by a simple man, "Right, sorry," She rubbed her sweaty palms on the armrest of the couch, "I better get ready. Make a meal for us to eat before we get there. You know how awful imperial station food can be,"

Vette watched her with knowing eyes, but nodded her head, "Sure thing, boss. Of course, it isn't like my cooking is so much better,"

"At least I can pretend the burned taste is just some sort of spice," Soarise called as she walked into her cabin.

The cabin of the Amnesty was perhaps its most spectacular feature in Soarise's opinion. A fairly spacious room with a large, canopied bed in the middle, a walk-in closet, and a personal bathroom, it looked more like a hotel room than a ship cabin. Of course, it was sparsely decorated and kept dim. The bedding was just gunmetal grey and the walls matched. Plush black carpet and silver fixtures, it was dark but luxurious. Maybe one day she, with Vette's help, would redecorate it into something a little more comfortable. Of course, she could only imagine A'cost's reaction if she did that.

You are the most deadly warrior in the order, and you wasted my budget to make your room cozy?

His perplexed face amused her enough that she was almost tempted to do it.

Soarise sat down in front of her vanity in the better lit bathroom. A'cost insisted that she keep her appearance well maintained as a weapon of sorts. He had had her trained by an Imperial matriarch of an aristocracy so that she could learn the ways to improve her looks and manners. She had started as a lanky teen, with dull skin and frizzed hair, and finished as, to be honest, as a beauty. With the assistance of facials, creams, conditioners, and oils, Soarise transformed herself into a woman whose looks gave her an edge over her opponents. Some would underestimate her elegant manners as being weak, while others, particularly men, would be more susceptible to bending to her will.

While fooling her enemies was nice, Soarise liked the normalcy that she felt while grooming herself. For a moment, as she washes and lotions her face, she feels like a normal young woman. Being pretty made her feel like a real person, not as a machine trained solely for killing.

She swept powder over her nose and mascara over her eyelashes, smudged color over her lids and lips, and combed product in her hair. Brushing her hair into an elegant up-do on top of her head, a few rogue strands hanging loose, she felt nearly complete. As she stood up, she made a last minute decision. She picked up a tiny garnet bottle of perfume given to her by the matriarch. A rich, floral scent of jasmine and spices, she used it sparingly but adored it. It was an intoxicating scent, filled with mystery and danger, and was incredibly sexy.

Dabbing a tiny drop over her wrists and collar bone, she decided that she was ready just as the ship gently lurched out of hyperspace.

Tear Point station looked like an average Imperial Station, spherical with spires, not unlike Vaiken station, somewhere Soarise typically avoided. She waited as the Amnesty docked into the airlock. Suddenly, her stomach felt sick and she wanted to vomit up the food Vette had made. What if she was wrong in her judgment of Malavai and that he was really as dull and greedy as all the other Imperial officers?

"Hey," Vette stood next to her, as though she could sense Soarise's worry, "It'll be fine," Her voice was gentle and free from teasing. Soarise nodded, swallowing. She only had a few minutes to compose herself and put on her persona as the Sith order's greatest assassin.

"I'm not concerned," She replied in a cool tone. Perfect. Icy and distant, that was what she was going for. She wasn't here to reunite with Malavai, but to continue her sole purpose in life that was to find Desmia and make her pay for betraying the Sith. As nice a man as Malavai seemed, she simply did not have time to mess in menial relationships like that. Attachments would only lead to weakness. Vette recognized the change in Soarise's mood and became silent.

Playtime was over.