Chapter Four
Landing had been interesting. Apparently, making spontaneous visits to the base on Coruscant was highly frowned upon and misinterpreted as threatening and CIS-looking. It had taken Rev nearly seven minutes to talk down the control officer who had seemed all too happy to blow them out of the sky.
Leslie led the way into the barracks.
"We need to report to someone named Zey."
Ink made a noise of recognition.
"He's in charge of Spec Ops."
Leslie tossed a teasing smile over her shoulder.
"Now that's exciting."
Rev chuckled. It definitely would be.
They got looks as they walked.
This barracks were for SO only, and SO was Commandos, not regular 'meat-cans.' They were somewhat of an oddity tromping down the hall. Falcon knew, though, that the looks were mainly because of their dark-haired trainer. She was in a dress, of all things.
Their helmets were on, her ear-bead was in. It allowed for private communication in a public place.
"Miss Leslie."
Her eyes flicked to him.
"Yeah, Falcon?"
He tried his next sentence carefully.
"It might be best if you wore pants if you're in here."
Leslie glanced down at the dress.
"I can fight in a dress."
Oh, yes, he knew she could. That's not what he was worried about. He wouldn't argue with her, though.
"As you say, Miss Leslie."
An ARC captain stopped them in the hall. He completely overlooked Leslie, fixated instead on Rev.
"You boys lost?"
Rev didn't answer. Leslie did.
"Not that I know of."
The ARC looked at her. She smiled at him.
"We're supposed to meet with Zey."
Rev winced behind his helmet. He could almost see the disdain rolling off the ARC. He saw Leslie's smile change subtly. There was an underline of ice to it.
The ARC didn't seem to notice.
"General Zey is busy at the moment."
The ARC was trying to be intimidating. He was trying to make them nervous. It wasn't working. They had been with Leslie for too long for it to work.
Leslie raised an eyebrow. She was slowly becoming more ice than smiles.
"He is?"
She brushed past the ARC. The six new troopers followed her dutifully. The ARC was right on their tail.
The door was closed, but not locked. She had the decency to knock first, waited a moment, walked in. Her men trailed after her, the ARC behind them.
Zey was sitting behind a desk looking old and worn and tired. The ARC moved to stand behind him, arms crossed over his chest, body completely still. Zey looked at the seven new arrivals curiously.
Leslie was the first to speak. She handed him a datachip.
"I was told to come to you. These are the orders."
Zey read through the orders briefly. His gaze moved rapidly from the information to Leslie to her men to her again to the orders.
"The experiment was considered a success then?"
He sounded hopeful. The ice softened. She gave a gentle smile.
"As far as we're concerned."
Zey nodded slowly, reading through the information Leslie had given him a bit more carefully. He stopped at one part, turned the datapad around so she could see.
"What's this?"
Leslie read where he indicated.
Be advised: this group exhibits signs of disobedience and mutiny.
Leslie gave her most disarming smile to the unsuspecting general.
"I made a comment about the experiment. The Kaminoan may have taken it as a threat."
Zey paused, thought, smiled.
"You deploy tomorrow at 0730."
He handed Leslie her datachip and another one. She took them both, kept her smile wide.
"Nice meeting you, Master Zey."
She was out the door before he could respond. Rev paused for a moment before following her. He was enjoying the look of shock on the ARCs face.
Leslie led them to an empty briefing room. They all sat down, slouching and shifting to get comfortable.
Once, maybe, they would've waited for permission to sit, sat at attention, stared blankly ahead like good little troopers. Now, though, they didn't bother. Leslie was even more informal than them. It was proven when she sat cross-legged on the table.
No one asked questions. They weren't even a little bit surprised.
She transferred the data about their deployment from the chip as she started talking.
"Our first mark is this man: Cyan Cecil. According to this, he stole someone's secrets and ran away with them."
Ray ran a hand over his freshly redone braids.
"Why are we after him, then? They would've just changed whatever information he took. Miss Leslie."
Leslie smiled a little. It was one of amusement and disgust; an odd combination that wasn't at all new. It was the same smile she got whenever they had been told they were going through the Killing House again.
"We're 'bringing him to justice.' And this is too low-risk to waste Commandos on. Zey's testing us."
Ink groaned dramatically.
"Why doesn't anyone trust us to get the job done, Miss Leslie?"
Leslie smiled again. This one was pure hilarity.
"Lama Su made a note on our file warning Zey we were at risk for mutiny."
The room was suddenly full of loud laughter.
They hadn't left the room for nearly three hours. After reviewing the provided information, they were planning. The word was used loosely.
Leslie had given each of them a particular subject to research, and they were transferring any data that could be remotely relevant to her. She was sifting through the information they gave her and—well, none of them actually knew what she was doing with the information. Everything she told them to research seemed random.
Suddenly, she paused. So tuned into her behavior, they paused, too.
"Here."
She transferred something to the hologram in the center of the table. They all studied it.
"Cecil is going to this gala in three days. On Fretaria."
Ink raised an eyebrow. He had picked up on that habit of hers.
"How do you know that, Miss Leslie?"
She smiled, that one of mischief.
"I know people."
Ray copied Ink's expression. Leslie laughed.
"It's his personality. He feels he's big and important. He wants to be with people who actually are big and important."
That actually made sense. Rev studied the map of the Fre'ji system that Leslie had pulled up.
"Why this gala, Miss Leslie?"
Her smile widened.
"Senator Raila BriAddy will be there."
Rev chuckled.
"I think I understand, Miss Leslie. They were her secrets?"
Leslie smiled proudly at him.
They had moved to the men's temporary barracks. Commando squads consisted of four men, so two extra cots had been stacked against the wall.
As they got the sleeping arrangements situated, Leslie made a quick caf run. She was aware of the looks, the whispers. She was able to ignore it.
It was almost fun. Being the center of attention from so many attractive men was, well, flattering.
It's probably the dress. Falcon's right. Won't wear it again in here.
One of them addressed her as she filled the mugs of caf.
"Do you need help, ma'am?"
Oh, fek, I'm 'ma'am' again.
She shot him a quick smile over her shoulder.
"Sure thing. Can you grab three?"
He was in the grey fatigues provided to troopers, hair cropped close to his head. A scar ran from the edge of his hairline, down his neck, disappearing beneath his shirt.
"What's your name?"
He glanced at her. She could see his surprise.
"Jin, ma'am."
She smiled at him.
"I'm Leslie."
He returned her smile shyly.
"No disrespect intended, ma'am, but you're not a Jedi, are you?"
Leslie laughed.
"No. I'm just a simple civvie brought in as part of an experiment."
His momentary look of shock faded to interest.
"What type of experiment, ma'am?"
She turned down the hall that led to the barracks.
"I'm a squad leader. I trained with my men their last six months on Kamino. We passed whatever it was they were testing and now we're here."
She halted outside their doors, clicked her ear-bead on.
"Oi, open up. Hands are full."
Jin seemed surprised again. Maybe from the way she spoke or the words she used or when Ink opened the door and took the cups of caf from her hands. He ignored the Commando for a moment.
"You staying with us, Miss Leslie?"
She reached for the mugs in Jin's hands.
"For a bit. We're going out tonight."
Ink smiled widely.
"Aw, Miss Leslie, I thought you'd never ask."
She laughed, elbowed him, turned back to Jin.
"Thanks for helping."
Jin nodded. She could still see his shock.
"You're welcome, ma'am."
She smiled. No doubt there would be rumors flying by nightfall.
Spinner took an appreciative gulp of his caf.
"You only got six?"
Leslie nodded. She was busy gathering information about the gala. Spinner took another sip.
"Why?"
She looked up from her datapad.
"Caf doesn't affect me, so there's no point in putting the drug in my body."
Spinner took a thoughtful sip.
"Oh."
Leslie finished her research and set the 'pad aside.
"Okay."
They all looked up at her from their various activities. She smiled.
"We're having a night on the town as soon as you're ready."
She had never seen a cup of caf disappear so quickly.
That first night with this squad remained vivid in Spinner's mind. It had been something he hadn't expected. She had been something he hadn't expected. He had realized how welcome he was with this new squad, how safe he was.
He knew Falcon was protective of their squad leader. He was, too. But differently, he felt, than Falcon. His protective instinct ran deeper. He had already lost a squad; his brothers. He wouldn't let it happen again.
He had decided that first night.
He would protect this squad no matter what. That included their rebellious little leader. Especially their squad leader.
Ink had always liked their squad leader. Even when he hadn't met her, when they'd been briefed, he'd decided he liked her. Then she showed up in the barracks and invited them to her quarters and he'd decided he really liked her.
At this point, he even—hesitantly—considered them friends. After all, she let them do things frowned upon by GAR authorities. Things like breaking out of Kamino and drinking and 'having a night on the town.'
Except first they stopped at an apartment near the lower levels of Coruscant.
Ink liked Leslie. And had recognized her beauty right away. Because she was beautiful. But the girl who opened the door to the apartment.
Ink couldn't even remember his name.
Leslie smiled at her best friend—her only friend.
"Hey, Omari."
Omari leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, entirely unimpressed.
"Now what's this?"
Leslie quirked an eyebrow.
"Can we come in at least?"
Omari kept her gaze on Leslie, stepped out of the way, gestured for them to follow her in. Her apartment was really one big room, partitioned with curtains and furniture. She indicated the main area. Out of habit, they all looked to Leslie for confirmation. She nodded.
Omari still had her arms crossed.
"You're gonna have fun explaining this one to me."
Leslie laughed, settling between Dagger and Falcon, facing her friend.
"Apparently the government pays attention to our test scores. They liked mine so much they sent me to Kamino to train with some clones as an experiment."
Omari finally looked over her six other guests.
"So this is them, then."
It wasn't a question. She seemed every bit as ice as Leslie could be. Leslie nodded, completely relaxed.
"Yah. You want introductions?"
Omari moved her gaze back to Leslie.
"Not really. Why are you here?"
Leslie laughed.
"We need clothes."
Omari's expression didn't change.
"Why?"
Leslie smiled, eyes twinkling.
"We're going out tonight. You're invited."
Omari copied Leslie's quirked brow.
"How many outfits?"
Leslie shrugged.
"Six male, one female."
Omari relaxed a bit.
"Two female."
Leslie smiled happily.
"So you're coming, then."
Omari stood up.
"You need a babysitter when you go out."
Leslie's smile faded to an expression that was something indignant.
"You're being dramatic."
Ink thought, somehow, Omari couldn't manage 'being dramatic.' She simply quirked her other eyebrow.
"How much bail money should I put aside?"
Leslie smiled again, more sheepish than anything else. Omari sighed.
There was no denying it was an amazing first night free of Kamino. Leslie and Omari garnered attention wherever they went. It wasn't surprising. Their outfits were nothing modest, outfits that were perfectly suited for the places they went that night.
And—Rev had agreed when Dagger quietly pointed it out—the outfits high-lighted their natural beauty.
Leslie was all hard, rippling muscle; a side-effect of training with clones for six months. Her black curls were mussed in a way that was wholly attractive. Dark make-up made her light blue eyes striking. Her tan skin almost glowed in the city nightlights.
Omari was softer, rounder than Leslie—Ink had stated to his brothers that he liked it. Her hair, curls of deep red, was styled more than Leslie's, giving her a different edge. Her make-up made her silver eyes seem bigger, more innocent. Her mocha skin looked smooth and satiny, in contrast to the few scars that roughed up Leslie's skin.
Rev looked down at his provided outfit. All six of them had one that showed nearly as much skin as the women's. He wasn't sure how he felt about it. None of them were. Except Ink.
Ink had nothing against the outfit. He was enjoying the attention that came with it.
Omari had taken a liking to Ink. Leslie sat with Ray and Spinner, watching them.
"She's so small."
Ray glanced at Leslie, chuckled.
"So are you, Miss Leslie."
And she was small, compared to the clones. She just about reached mid-chest on them. Omari was even shorter, though only by a few inches.
Leslie smiled.
"I know."
Omari had taken Ink onto the dancefloor and was teaching him how to dance. Leslie studied them with amusement. Maybe 'teaching' wasn't the right word. She was moving against him and correcting him when his movements got in the way of hers.
Leslie glanced at her two companions.
"Come dance."
Once they would've thought it was an order, that they had no choice but to obey. Now they knew it was a request. They could deny if they wanted. But they didn't. They followed her onto the dancefloor.
Leslie danced like Omari, body moving, rubbing against theirs. They copied what they had seen Ink doing, what they saw other males doing. Leslie laughed happily, Spinner and Ray smiled. She seemed to be in her element.
Ray suddenly understood the appeal to the term 'dance the night away.'
They didn't return to Omari's apartment until the first hints of morning lightened the sky. They should've been exhausted, having been up all night dancing and drinking. Instead they vibrated with energy.
After a quick change of clothes the clones thanked Omari and Leslie waved bye. Omari just handed Leslie a box and closed the door. Leslie laughed and checked her chrono.
"We have forty-five minutes. There's a good diner around here."
She waited patiently for their verdict. After getting an affirmative, she led them to said diner. The waitress serving them said nothing, eyeing the clones appreciatively. She even slipped Falcon her com number when she brought their food.
Fifteen minutes before their departure time Leslie stood up, threw credits on the table, led them out the door.
Falcon made sure to bring the comm number with him.
They made it to the landing platform two minutes before their departure time. Zey was there with the ARC. He eyed them as they arrived, no doubt smelling of alcohol and looking something of a mess.
"This is a simple retrieval mission, preferably with Cecil alive."
Leslie nodded, smiled.
"Sure thing."
She kept the ARC in her peripheral. It was funny watching his reactions. She could see them even when he had his helmet on. The small twitch of his fingers that indicated irritation. The shift in weight that indicated impatience.
Zey eyed them again, sighed, stepped back.
"May the Force be with you."
Leslie nodded again.
"Sure thing."
She signaled her men to follow. They saluted the general as one, turned, marched into the ship behind Leslie.
Take-off was right on time.
Getting ready for the gala was an experience in itself.
Ink and Spinner were going with Leslie, passing off as twins. The other four would be in locations around the building, ready to come to assistance or take out threats.
Leslie needed help with her dress—provided by Omari—and hair. Ray had volunteered to do her hair. She had been teaching him styling techniques since she had first braided his hair.
Ink and Spinner were trying to figure out the correct way to put on the dress clothes—also provided by Omari. They both agreed, rather quickly, that plastoid armor was preferable to fancy clothing.
They were dressed, armed, and ready a while before Leslie. When she finally exited the 'fresher, trailed by Ray, it was decided the wait was perfectly okay.
She had looked breath-taking when they were out with Omari. Now she looked unreal, untouchable.
She smiled at them.
"Ray did a good job with the hair."
She looked them over.
"You're good. Let's go."
The gala was pretty. There wasn't another word to describe it.
Ink ran off to make friends with the ladies. He had an ear-bead in, recording every conversation he had. Leslie had explained they may pick up on useful information. Spinner was her dance partner. That had been interesting to explain.
He had been hesitant to touch her what he deemed 'inappropriately.' She had reassured him that the dancing would be nothing like at the clubs, and the positioning of his hands was modest compared to other ways he could touch her. She had thrown him a wink when she said that and his face flushed pink.
But he pulled her closer, hand splayed on her lower back. The heels she wore gave her enough to height to wrap her arms around his neck, but she was still short enough to lay her head on his shoulder.
He was warm and sturdy and strong. The hand on her lower back shifted slightly. His hold became more protective, possessive. She leaned closer, pressed her forehead against his neck.
"What is it?"
She whispered the words in his ear, but she knew the ear-bead would pick it up, too. Spinner briefly pressed his cheek to the top of her curls. He had become more at ease with physical affection. They all had.
"Cecil noticed you, Miss Leslie."
He sounded so young in that one sentence. Leslie smiled. She knew he could feel it against his neck.
"That's what we want."
She could feel his heart beating rapidly. Her own pulse was steady, breathing deep and even. He bowed his head slightly, pressing as close to her as possible. She led him into another dance.
"Easy, love."
Spinner took a steadying breath.
"We're trained for battle, Miss Leslie, not cons."
She spun. Her dress flared out, legs momentarily revealed. Spinner twirled her back to him. He felt more comfortable the closer she was to him. She could tell. He was perhaps the most protective of her—except, maybe, for Falcon.
"The song is going to end. I'm going to move towards Cecil."
Spinner's grip on her tightened briefly. She gave him a reassuring smile.
"I know what I'm doing."
He swallowed, nodded.
"Of course, Miss Leslie."
The song ended. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, moved away.
"Going for Cecil."
The words were barely whispered. The ear-bud would pick it up, anyways.
She captured his attention easily. A few well-placed smiles, quick glances. He asked her to dance. She accepted. She was aware of Spinner watching even as he danced with another woman.
After the dance she led Hennessy onto an empty balcony. She spoke quietly, laughed when she knew he wanted, gave him more smiles. It only took three minutes for the rest of the squad to get into position.
She pulled away from him suddenly.
"Cyan Cecil, under the name of the Galactic Republic, you are under arrest for wounding Senator BriAddy's pride."
The squad moved in, led by Rev. Leslie watched as they snapped binders on him, escorted him out through a side exit. Ink regretfully said good-bye to one of his many dance partners, followed the rest of his brothers. Spinner remained by her side.
"Wounding a senator's pride isn't an actual crime, Miss Leslie."
She smiled at him, the one of amusement and glee.
"But it's the real reason he was put on the list of criminals."
She linked her arm through his.
"One more dance?"
After a few hours of dancing his hands naturally positioned themselves.
"Yes, Miss Leslie."
Most of his brothers would have stories of battles and runs of glory. He would have a story of a slow dance and woman in his arms.
They're reports were all written and submitted before they reached Coruscant. The ARC was waiting for them when they landed.
"General Zey would like to speak with you, ma'am."
She slung her bag over one shoulder.
"Sure thing."
The ARC turned sharply and led them to the general's office. Leslie kept pace with him.
"Can I know your name?"
The ARC didn't answer. She pressed a bit harder.
"I keep running into you. I'd like to know your name."
He didn't answer for a moment. His voice was terse.
"Maze."
Leslie just smiled at him.
The general had expressed his delight at how quickly they had completed the mission. Leslie took the compliments with a polite smile and a nod. She was ice again. She didn't quite trust the Jedi.
When the meeting was over she led them straight out of the barracks. Straight back to Omari's apartment. This time the red-head didn't ask any questions. Her apartment interior had changed during the days they'd been gone. It was now suited to hold seven more people.
Omari was curled on a pile of cushions on the floor. Leslie curled beside her.
"Thanks, love."
Omari didn't look up from the novel she was reading.
"Why not your apartment?"
Leslie turned on HNE.
"Got repossessed when I didn't pay rent on it for six months."
Omari flipped to the next page of the novel.
"Ah."
The clones had a comfortable place to sleep, a big pallet they all shared. Leslie and Omari had similar arrangements; their pallet was smaller, better suited for two small women.
Rev settled onto the cushions on the other side of Leslie.
"Dagger would like to make dinner tonight. If it's alright, Miss Omari, ma'am."
Omari didn't respond. Leslie smiled at Rev.
"It's fine."
Rev looked unsure but passed the 'okay' to Dagger. Soon, the apartment was filled with good smells and happy sounds.
Omari read. Leslie watched HNE. The clones helped in the kitchen, set up a dining area.
"How long are you living with me?"
Leslie's gaze didn't move from the holonet.
"As long as needed."
Omari made a noise in the back of her throat. A small smile quirked Leslie's lips. Nothing else was said. Dagger called dinner. Everyone sat on the floor of the partitioned kitchen—Omari didn't seem to believe in furniture.
Showering was a process. One 'fresher for eight people wasn't necessarily a good fit. The lights went off soon after. Omari stretched out wide, Leslie curled against her. Omari sighed softly.
"I'll have seven keys made."
Leslie snuggled closer.
They were redeployed almost immediately. Their second mission ran as smoothly as the first. So did their third and their fourth and their fifth.
They got used to Leslie's subtle approach rather than the battle and action they were expecting. They became good at the games, the cons. Each mission was more high-risk than the last. A few times they had to fight their way out. By their eighth mission they had made a name for themselves.
By their tenth mission they had acquired so many stories to tell they sounded as old as the veterans of the First Battle of Geonosis.
After every mission they returned to Coruscant, to Omari. She was more welcoming each time. By their twelfth mission she was greeting them with small smiles.
Leslie wasn't surprised to be called into Zey's office. She had been expecting it. The ARC was waiting to escort her to the general. She smiled at him.
"Hallo, Maze."
He nodded once, no verbal response. She just kept her smile and kept pace with him as they walked to Zey's office. He looked up when they entered.
"Miss Rodriguez."
She gave a polite nod. She wasn't so much ice around him anymore as she was professional. He waited for a moment. When she said nothing, he continued.
"I know you just got back this morning, but we have an emergency."
Leslie raised an eyebrow. Zey had spoken with her enough to know she wouldn't say anything yet.
"One of our Commando teams has run into issues. The Forty-first Elite is closest to them. However it would be best if another SO team were to retrieve them, not infantry."
Leslie gestured the chair wordlessly. He nodded. She rarely sat down when speaking with him. If she did, he knew it was a serious conversation—more serious than usual.
"Master Zey, you are aware of the way I conduct my missions."
It wasn't a question. He answered anyways.
"I've read the reports, yes."
Leslie's lips quirked up. Zey knew she did that when she was mildly amused by what she deemed childish ignorance. He got the look often enough.
"The reports don't cover half of it, Master Zey."
He indicated she elaborate. When she spoke, her words were carefully chosen.
"All of our deployments thus far have been more espionage than anything else. I've been able to complete each mission successfully by using cons and basic manipulation. An extraction of a Commando squad is another skillset entirely."
Zey leaned back in his chair in that very Jedi way. Leslie could see him rolling the information over and over in his head. He finally settled on something to say.
"Are you saying you doubt your men's abilities under fire?"
Leslie's lips quirked up again.
"I would say that outright if I thought that. I don't much appreciate word games."
He caught the warning, however teasingly it was said, however innocently it was phrased. She continued.
"What I am saying is that while my men and I ranked the best scores on Kamino, those were training simulations. Real-life is different. Always. Extraction may not be the best place to start us if you wish for us to keep our flawless record."
Zey had to take a few moments to mull over her words. He never could tell when she was teasing or chastising or warning. All he knew was that this conversation was one she deemed more important than others—and he only knew that because she was sitting.
When he didn't say anything for nearly two minutes, she stood up.
"Orders received, General. When do we deploy?"
Now he knew for certain she was teasing. She never called him 'general' when she wasn't. It was one of her subtle rebellions. He handed her a datachip. She folded it into her palm.
"Immediately. May the Force be with you."
She nodded, turned to leave without being dismissed—another of her rebellions. She moved quickly through the barracks, out to her waiting speeder. The datachip was held tightly in her palm. She smiled.
They finally trust us to play with the big boys.
Though immediate redeployment meant waking up in the middle of the night, the clones managed it with minimal grumbling. Ink—who had become increasingly close to Omari, to the point where Spinner dared label it a relationship—placed a gentle kiss on the sleeping woman's forehead. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, focused on Ink, slid shut again.
Leslie was already on the ship. After three missions, all with separate ships, they had been provided one solely for them. It was rusty and creaky and barely held together. But they were so used to it they didn't notice it anymore. And it got them where they needed to go.
After take-off Leslie set the ship on autopilot and joined her men in the main room. There wasn't any furniture to sit on, and only a portable hologram computer in the center of the room. They settled around it as Leslie plugged in the datachip.
"Nothing fancy this time. We're meeting up with the Forty-first and doing extraction of a Commando squad."
Leslie paused, focusing on the data scrolling past them.
"That means the possibility of heavy fighting."
She glanced at them briefly, winked. The gesture belayed the severity and implication of her words. She paused again, blinked rapidly.
"Fierfek."
Now that was a word Spinner had never heard come from her mouth, and he'd heard quite a few words from her. Even Rev, the unflappable sergeant, seemed surprised.
"Is something wrong, Miss Leslie?"
She was perfectly still. They all knew her well enough to now it only happened when her body flooded with adrenaline. She was like a spring, coiled, ready to launch.
Spinner, closest to her, pressed two fingers gently to her arm. She blinked, looked at him. Her light blue eyes seemed paler. His own eyes narrowed in concern.
"Are you okay, Miss Leslie?"
She quickly reverted to her normal self, all smiles and innocent flirtation.
"Course I am."
Rev raised an eyebrow. On Leslie the look was intimidating. It was no different on the sergeant.
"What was the cause of that, Miss Leslie?"
She laughed quietly.
"I kissed a clone."
They all stared at her. Ink broke the silence, grinned widely.
"Did he live up to Papa Jango's expectations of our skills with the ladies, Miss Leslie?"
She laughed again.
"Yeah. We did a bit more than kiss."
Even Ink's face turned pink at her implication. She continued laughing.
"He and his squad rescued my family from the attack on our home. I thought I left him there."
They had all realized at one point she wasn't originally from Coruscant. They had also realized that she wanted her past life kept a secret.
Ray leaned forwards slightly.
"I don't understand the relevance, Miss Leslie."
Her laughter turned into something more like hysteria. It was as close to panicking as they had ever seen from her.
"Guess who needs rescuing now."
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