Su'cuy! Hope you are all enjoying Invader! Since today is my birthday, I'm posting two chapters instead of one. Please enjoy, and I look forward to some more reviews!
Disclaimer: Star Wars is not mine, nor was the Mandalorian language and culture created by me. However, all original characters, planets, and creatures are of my own creation.
Chapter 3
"Threats come in all guises. Not all soldiers are young males, and not all soldiers wear uniforms." – RC-1136 Darman of Omega Squad.
✶ Kuat City, 1400 - 404 days ABG ✶
It took them a good portion of the day to get settled down in the hotel room. Since they had amassed more credits than they really needed, they were able to stay in a relatively decent hotel called the Kuat City Hotel, a name as creative and eye-catching as the proprietor of the establishment ––– a sullen, slowwitted, middle-aged Kuati man who spent most of his time sitting in his chair and staring vacantly at a blank wall. Adriaan had had to ask him five times for the room key before he finally realized she was talking to him.
"Prondo, poltro ma'umo! Prondo, merdes, nu!" Adriaan shouted in the man's ear, startling him from his daydreaming.
"Eh? Che'cos i tesiterade?" He asked.
"Parla Basico?"
"Ne, ne parla Basico. Me parla Kuati, mulpa."
"Ah, vora un camre, perfav."
The hotel manager scratched his head stupidly. "N'capi. Repetite lentim perfav?"
"Vora un camre, perfav."
The man still didn't understand. "N'capi. Mulpa."
Adriaan let out an exasperated breath and repeated the phrase, using wide, sweeping hand motions to make her point. "Voh-RAH. OON. CAHM-ray. Per-FAV-ay."
"Ah! Chi! Un credito e in ante?"
Adriaan sighed with relief, glad that it had finally penetrated the man's thick skull. "Chi. Perfav familia hotel suite danta. Che'co i credito bimi?"
"Ah, chi, familia hotel suite. Che'co i senticento ventue per noxitu."
Seven hundred and twenty-two credits per night? Well, it could be worse. Adriaan handed over the credit chips and the group was shown to their room by a surly, scruffy-looking, adolescent porter.
The rooms were decent, even if the customer service was sloppy and the proprietor was a brain-dead moron who not only couldn't speak a word of Basic, he could barely grasp his own native tongue as well. Good thing General ell Talaan was a polyglot, speaking fluently in about a dozen different languages from all over the galaxy, including Huttese, Kuati, Zylxxian, Shrii-wook, Binary, Bocce, and of course, Mando'a.
Ah, Mando'a. Few non-natives of Mandalore were fluent in that tongue, but luckily, Adriaan was one of the few. Wolf and his brothers had been taught Mandalorian war chants by Jango Fett during their time spent in the training facilities on Kamino, but that was as far as their knowledge of Mando'a went, until Adriaan had taken it upon herself to give them further instruction in the language.
In a way, the ELF Commandos were her non-Force-sensitive Jedi Apprentices. For over a year now she had been their teacher, training them in various Jedi combat techniques, martial arts, several different languages, and most importantly, explaining to them things about the universe they did not yet understand, because until a year ago they had literally been living in a habitat isolated from the rest of the galaxy.
Another bonus the ELFs had acquired from training with a Jedi was their resistance to Jedi mind-tricks. All clones were extremely intelligent, but unfortunately they were easily susceptible to mind-tricks, making it easy for bad Force-sensitives ––– such as Count Dooku and his protege, Asajj Ventress ––– to force clones to spill Intel they wouldn't have revealed under interrogation. Not so for the ELF Commandos. That was probably why they ended up in front line campaigns so often; it didn't matter if they got captured, because there was absolutely nothing that could make them reveal Republic secrets to the enemy. Adriaan had taught them to keep their minds under lock and key.
"WICKED!" the Wicked Club screamed, plunging headlong into the first bed that they saw. Throwing cushions at each other, the crazy youths stood up and began to jump on the mattress.
"Marshmallows!" Jahn Pal, one of the Wicked Club's "geniuses" cried, taking a big mouthful out of the pillow he clutched in his fist.
"Silly Jahn Pal, those aren't marshmallows," Sai'wer, the other "genius" said. "Those are quite clearly weapons of mass destruction." Saying this, he whacked his cushion on top of Nic to make his point. Poor Nic, who was about half Sai'wer's size, was pancaked by the powerful blow.
"Jerk!" Nic spluttered through a mouthful of fluff, giggling despite his pain as the feathers tickled his face.
"WICKED!" Andre shrieked, activating his lightsaber and slicing up the cushions as they were thrown in rapid succession by Heatrian and Aedan.
"UNWICKED! The WICKED is impervious to our ammunition!" Aedan cried in mock dismay as the pillows seemed to have little effect on Andre.
"It's time to WICKEDLY amp it up a bit," Heatrian answered, grasping a pillow in his fist. The cushion suddenly burst into flame, and the fire-being threw the flaming projectile toward a terrified Andre.
"What the GOOD! What are you trying to do, kill me?" Andre shrieked, thumbing off his lightsaber and taking cover behind the bed along with Jahn Pal, Nic, and Sai'wer. "GOOD old Adriaan! Make that insane Pyronite stop!"
Adriaan, who had been focused on the report copied onto her datapad, whirled as she smelled the nauseating odor of burned feathers, and stared in shock as she took in the sight of four of her Apprentices being bombarded by a hailstorm of blazing pillows. "What the…" Adriaan, to her credit, bit down the profanity that rose to her lips, diverting her energy instead to putting an end to the battle before the hotel was set aflame. "Heatrian, you idiot, stop it before you burn the whole place down!"
The Pyronite, though a scoundrel, knew when to call it quits. He stopped immediately, sheepishly quenching the fire he had set to the cushions clenched in each of his hands.
"Sorry, Adriaan," he said apologetically.
"Are you seriously trying to compromise our objective? Do you want to be responsible for about a quintillion people who are going to get killed if this mission isn't a success?" Adriaan wasn't yelling; her voice was ice-cold when she got angry. And she was definitely provoked now. "Seriously, what were you idiots thinking?"
"Toasting marshmallows," Jahn Pal mumbled, burying his head in a scorched pillow. Andre and Nic were both peeking over the bed and trying hard to look enraged, but they looked more inclined to laugh. Well, Wolf had to admit that the situation looked pretty funny. Adriaan was standing with her hands on her hips, surrounded by what looked to be the remains of a war zone. Charred bits of feathers, burning sheets, black smoke-stains on the wall, ash covering the faces of the Wicked Club…Wolf coughed to hide the unexpected urge to laugh.
Adriaan whirled instantly at the sound. "Something funny, Wolf?" she demanded sternly.
"Uh, no, ma'am," Wolf said hastily. "I just had to cough."
Adriaan's frown was suddenly replaced by a grin. "And these boys just had to release all that energy they've had to keep cooped up for two days during the hyperspace flight, right?"
"Yes, ma'am." Wolf knew that Adriaan knew the true reason why he had coughed. She knew him so well. Sometimes, it seemed that she considered him to be more her friend than her pupil.
But that's just my imagination. She doesn't see me as anything but one of her own Padawans. Just another kid she has to train.
"By the way, Aedan, I didn't know you were illiterate," Adriaan continued, turning back to her delinquent Apprentices.
Aedan started, his eyes narrowing. "Hey, who the GOOD told you that?!" he demanded. He turned to his comrades. "Andre! It must've been you! You told that GOOD my GOOD old secret! How…how dare you!"
"No, WICKED King, I didn't –––" Andre's retort was cut off as Aedan pounced on top of him.
"I'm going to WICKEDLY kill you!" Aedan screamed, pummeling Andre with his fists.
"I didn't GOODLY tell! I WICKEDLY swear!" Andre shrieked.
"Yeah, but on what can you WICKEDLY swear on? Your brain? Oh, right, you don't GOODLY have one!" Aedan said evenly, pressing Andre's face into the floor.
"Aedan! That's enough!" Adriaan yelled, hauling the bully to his feet. "Andre didn't tell! I was just being sarcastic because there was a sign on the door that you apparently didn't pay any attention to." She held up the door sign in front of the boy's face. "See? No jumping on beds, no smoking, no fires…"
"Oops. Sorry, WICKED Andre," Aedan said. Andre simply glared and punched him in the face.
"I didn't even know you were GOODLY illiterate," Andre hissed through clenched teeth. "Next time, WICKEDLY ask before you go around accusing WICKEDS of being GOOD tattletales."
"Yes, well, I guess I WICKEDLY deserved that punch," Aedan said, rubbing his face where Andre had hit him.
"Okay, so that's settled. Now, you boys can clean up this mess while the rest of us finish unpacking and analyzing these reports," Adriaan said, turning back to business.
"Aw, do we have to?" Marya griped.
Adriaan paused, considering. "Well, on second thought, Marya, you can go start on the sixty repetitions of the Koré form."
When the Zabrak responded with a Bocce profanity, Adriaan raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you want to do it one hundred times instead of sixty?"
Marya gave up and stormed off into the next room to carry out her punishment.
"All right, anyone else want to join her?" Adriaan looked around, feigning surprise when no one else volunteered to go. "Really? Okay then, let's get back to work."
Wolf had a lot to unload ––– he had brought every available piece of kit with him, from Geonosian force-pikes to Merr-Sonn PLXs ––– but he had packed and unpacked a lot of equipment many times before, so he got it all done in no time. Then, with some distaste, he turned to the task Adriaan had assigned him to; reading Kuat police reports in an attempt to find a pattern in the terrorist attacks.
"Mm." Ember ––– who had been promoted to the rank of Commander since their mission to Umbria ––– commented.
"What?" Adriaan asked, her eyes glued to her own datapad.
"Well, I found something about these attacks. Not all the sabotaged vehicles were military transports."
"See, Master? There's our evidence," Kan said triumphantly. "This is not a Separatist organization responsible for this; the saboteurs are probably just a gang of highschool dropouts, or a jealous rival corporation. This is a job fit for the Kuati police, not the Galactic Military."
"Incorrect," Adriaan said. "The only reason they aren't targeting specific craft is because they want you to think they are just juvenile delinquents or predatory companies. They don't want us to figure out who they're after, they want to remain as anonymous as possible. I've worked in covert ops before, so I know how these people operate."
"You know, sometimes I can't wait for the day that I'm made a Jedi Knight so that I can be the one to say, 'No, Padawan, you are incorrect, as usual.'" Kan said grumpily.
"Good to know you have a goal in life."
"Oh, sith take it all!" Cor said impatiently, throwing his datapad on the floor. "Let's save this for later and get something to eat. I swear I'm going to die if I don't get food in the next ten minutes."
"No, you know the rules. Mission comes first," Ember said, scrolling through the reports.
"Not if I die first," Cor grumbled, flopping on top of several Wicked Club members who were sprawled on the bed.
"Ow! GOOD!" Aedan yelled, struggling out from underneath the clone and tumbling to the floor. He got up to his feet, suddenly smiling as his eyes lit on the door. "Hey, they have an indoor pool here!" he said, pointing to the sign on the entryway.
"Fascinating," Kay said, barely glancing up from her datapad. "Where did you procure that piece of Intel?"
"The WICKED old sign on the door, duh! Can't you read?" Aedan demanded.
"What's this? I thought you were illiterate," Adriaan remarked sarcastically.
"I am?! Who GOODLY told you that?" Aedan screamed. "Andre! Was it you?! It must have been you! How dare you, you GOOD!"
Andre cringed as his Wicked King stepped forward to give him another unmerited beating.
"Aedan, we've already been through that already," Adriaan said wearily. "If you've finished cleaning up the pillow mess, you need to get your butt over here and help us analyze these files."
"Um, Adriaan, not to complain or anything, but my muscles are sort of sore from that last training exercise you gave us," Klamin hinted.
"Then go into the other room with Marya and do some Koré. That'll get the kinks out of you," Adriaan snapped.
"Aw, Adriaan…"
"Uh, ma'am, a brief dip in the pool might be a good idea," Cor said. "It'll relax us, freshen our minds. We'll come back to these datapads with our brains recharged to maximum thinking capacity."
"I thought you were starving to death," Adriaan remarked acerbically. "Do you want to take one more swim l before you die?"
"Actually, yes ma'am, I do," Cor said quietly.
Adriaan's shoulders slumped. She knew that Cor was being completely serious, of course. She knew that because of their job, one tiny mistake could be fatal for them. They could perish any day, at any given moment. And even if they did survive the war, they wouldn't get the privilege of a long, peaceful, prosperous life. They would die before a normal human lived half his life.
"You don't have swimsuits," she said, but it was a weak protest.
"I thought you might say that," Darc said suddenly. "That's why I took the liberty of buying some."
"What?" Adriaan turned to stare incredulously at the ex-Padawan. "Why, you had this planned all along, didn't you? You planned to take some time off this mission to go for a swim, didn't you?"
Darc gazed steadily at her; surprisingly, it was her own Apprentices that hung their heads in shame. Adriaan gaped at them in amazement. "Are you seriously saying that you…you schemed with this moron? Even you, Kay Lee, you who hates Darc so much?"
"Well, Adriaan, covert ops isn't exactly a 'go go go!' type of mission; it's more like a 'stand by' sort of thing, you know? I thought it might be a good idea for us to have something to do during the 'standby' parts…just so we wouldn't be bored, you see."
"I told you she wouldn't go for it," Kan told Darc.
"Who said anything about that?" Adriaan answered. She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. "It's routine for soldiers to keep themselves fit in the spare hours during missions. Just as long as you promise to…"
"Oh yeah, don't worry, we've got it all covered," Darc said, jumping to his feet. "No horseplay down there; just a whole ton of laps. We'll start out with fifty lengths of breaststroke, then get right into our workout with two hundred consecutive laps of freestyle…"
"Don't do that, you idiot; you're better off out of shape than too physically exhausted to do anything. You guys are no good to me dead."
"It's so encouraging to know we're valued."
"But don't take that as an incentive to bask out in the beach chairs and flirt with the babes, all right?"
"Flirt? Why, Ree, how could you suspect that of me?" Darc asked with feigned indignation.
"Suspect? Darc, I haven't lived underneath a rock all my life. You are most definitely a flirt. You always have been, even when you were a Padawan. Why, remember that one time you said…"
"Ah, I think that is enough said," Darc said hastily, his face reddening with embarrassment. "So, can we go?"
"Of course."
The Padawans, Darc, and the ELFs all cheered.
"Finally! I've been craving the swimming pool for hours," Kay said, pulling out a fuchsia swimsuit from her bag.
"At last, I can stop sweating like a Gamorrean and do something fun for once," Marya muttered, glad to be rid of the Koré form for the time being.
The girls left the room to get changed, while Darc handed out swimtrunks to the boys.
"I guess I should leave the room until you are decently dressed again," Adriaan said, standing and averting her face when she saw Darc peel off his shirt. "Ugh, Darc, you have about as much flesh as a full-sized Hutt."
"Aw, Adriaan, you needn't feel sad. I got you a swimsuit, too," Darc said, holding up a bright red garment.
Adriaan snorted. "Oh, hoh, very funny, Darc."
"What?" Darc asked with a puzzled frown. "Come on, I had Kay pick it out for you, so it's not against Jedi standards or anything."
"I appreciate that you went through all that trouble, Darc, but you have to realize that this work here has to be done by someone, and since I don't want to go swimming, it makes sense that that someone would be me."
"I do not aspire to go saturate myself in insalubrious fluid either, Master," Andora said, coming back into the room, pinching her swimsuit between her thumb and forefinger as if it were some sort of filthy rag.
"Oh, yes you do. Like Cor said, it'll help you relax, clear your mind, so that you can come here all fresh and pumped up for tons of boring reading."
"But you are not coming, Master."
Adriaan slapped a hand to her forehead. "Since when have you become so argumentative, Andora?"
"I ask for pardon, Master, but I am unable to refrain from disclosing the observation that your motives for tarrying are quite –––"
"Get out!" Adriaan roared, sending her Padawan scurrying back into the girls' room.
Darc looked genuinely disappointed. "Please, Ree, can you just drop the work for a little bit? We can always come back to it later."
"You would have me risk lives for the sake of frivolous entertainment?" Adriaan demanded.
"Well, no, Adriaan, but I hardly think that going for a brief swim would endanger –––"
"Why are you always demanding explanations from me? I do not have to answer to you. I am the General and Master here, last time I checked. Just get dressed and leave me alone."
"But Adriaan, I can't get dressed if you're still in here…"
Adriaan glared and stomped off into the other room.
"Man, she's a moody chick," Darc snickered. "Ah, if only she knew how much I enjoyed torturing her."
"You'd better respect her, sir," Wolf warned. "She's your CO. If you aren't more respectful to her, sir, then I'm going to have to…"
"Soldier!" Ember barked.
Wolf broke off and straightened at attention. "Sorry, sir."
"You are forgiven," Darc said with a righteous air, pulling on his swim trunks.
"I wasn't talking to you…sir," Wolf said, but Darc didn't hear him; he was busy shouting into the girls' room.
"Hey, girls, hurry up! We don't have all day!" he yelled.
Wolf shook his head, throwing his own waterproof garment on top of the bed. He decided that he didn't really want to go down to the pool; it was no doubt crowded with people, people that would most likely stare at him and his brothers. Stare at them because they looked like a set of duodecaplets, and men who had obviously grown up with intensive training and a high-protein diet. Wolf, stripped to the waist, glanced at himself in the mirror. All solid muscle; not a single ounce of fat on him. Yes, even without the armor he looked like a soldier, totally fit and in the prime of his career.
It all goes to show that it takes more than the armor to make a soldier, Wolf thought.
"Look, Wolf, I know Darc can be a pest, but you need to throttle off the testosterone a bit. The General can take care of him without your help," Ember said, appearing from behind.
"I know," Wolf said, suddenly terribly conscious of his new overwhelming desire to protect her. He hadn't told anyone, but ever since Umbria he had come to the startling yet euphoric revelation that he loved his Jedi General, and had loved her for quite some time, except he hadn't realized it until what happened on Umbria…
The ELF Commandos used to number twenty, but ever since Umbria, their numbers had been drastically reduced to thirteen ––– twelve now, since Rez was away on Coruscant. They were all careful not to show it, but the clones were still trying to cope with the loss of so many comrades. Wolf supposed that the recent deaths of seven brothers was part of the reason he had become so protective of his friends who still lived, especially Adriaan. He was afraid to lose them, too.
"Son, better get dressed, or Darc will have a fit." Ember gave Wolf a rough tap on the back to get him moving.
"It's all right, sir; I'm not in the mood for a swim right now. I think I should just stay here and help the General with the reports. It's a lot quicker analyzing datapads with more than one pair of eyes."
"She didn't ask for anyone's help; I don't think she'll want you to stay up here," Ember said, his expression darkening. Wolf knew that the true reason Ember was objecting to him staying upstairs was because he didn't like Wolf having tête-à-têtes with Adriaan. He was afraid that Wolf might become too attached to her, for romantic relationships of any kind were unacceptable for both clones and Jedi. Wolf didn't like to worry Ember, but he really needed to talk to Adriaan. Ever since she had comforted him in the barracks on the Republic ship that had shipped them off Umbria, Wolf had avoided talking to her for the most part, for he didn't want Ember to suspect that his conversation with the Jedi General had deepened his relationship with her. Adriaan really hadn't spoken much to him, either, but perhaps that was because she truly understood. She could sometimes be blatantly thoughtless about other people's emotions, but there were times when her Jedi powers helped her be more sensitive and delicate about a person's feelings. Either that, or Ember must have said something to her. And if that were the case, Ember already knew ––– or at least suspected ––– Wolf had a crush on their Jedi General.
But enough of that. Wolf figured he had done enough avoiding for now. Ember really didn't expect him to never speak to Adriaan again, did he?
"Trust me, Commander. Have I ever let you down?" Wolf murmured.
Ember's face softened slightly. "Of course not. But promise me something, will you? Don't create tension within the squad by taking your relationship with the Jedi any farther. It's not fair to anyone, especially for you two. She's a Jedi, and you know her Council doesn't allow members of their Order to form attachments with anyone. She would lose her rank as a General, and she would lose her career as a Jedi as well if they ever…"
"I think you just don't like her. You don't want her to be part of the squad, never mind that she's taken it upon herself to train us," Wolf said fiercely.
Ember let out a breath of exasperation. "Wolf, you know that's not what I meant. All I'm saying is that the Jedi Order has already expressed their concern that she's too attached to us already. We can't get her into any more trouble, otherwise she'll get busted down to the AgriCorps to grow plants for the rest of her life. And I can hardly imagine her being a farmer. No; I like General ell Talaan a lot, and appreciate the fact that she cares very much for us. If she wants to be part of the squad, I'm totally for it, but only as long as she maintains her current relationship with us. She's our big sister, and she should be treated as such. A romantic relationship between you two would only create barriers within the team. Not purposefully, of course, but it would happen, and then she would cease to function as our commanding officer. Leaders are supposed to unite their men into a fighting unit, not break them apart. Do you understand, Wolf? Do you understand why she has to remain our big sister?"
Wolf felt a lump rise to his throat. He understood, all right, but it didn't make him feel any better. He realized that Adriaan best fit the role of a big sister ––– she was too young to be their mother, and bound by a vow to never be anyone's lover ––– but it didn't stop him from wishing. Hoping that somehow things would work out.
Oh, well. Being a soldier was all about doing things for other people, regardless of your feelings or your life. This hadn't been the first time Wolf had been called to do a duty he absolutely abhorred. But he would do it; he would do his best to keep Adriaan as their big sister, for Ember's sake. For the squad's sake. It was the least he could do for men that had stuck through hell with him.
Wolf smiled reassuringly at his Commander. "Yes, sir. She's our big sister. Now, do you have any objection to a little brother helping his sibling do some boring analyst work?"
Ember, of course, had no objection. He trusted Wolf to watch his back in the heat of a battle; there was no reason to doubt him now. Patting Wolf on the back, he joined the others ––– now clad in all different colors of swimsuits ––– as they followed Darc out the door.
"We'll be back in a few hours!" Darc called to Adriaan. "If you get all the work done before then, we'd still really like it if you came down!"
"Sure, whatever; I'll think about it," Adriaan replied, her eyes poring over the contents of a datapad. Wolf, picking up a stack of files off the table beside her, stared at the Jedi with a mixture of awe and amusement. Adriaan was reading boring datafiles with the focus of a teenage girl who was right in the middle of the latest saccharine, schmaltzy romance novel. She hardly seemed to care that everyone else had abandoned her to go have a few hours of fun at the pool. She probably didn't even know that he had stayed behind to help her.
Wolf glanced down at the list of codes on the datapad. Maybe I should have gone downstairs, after all, he reflected.
They had spent about half an hour in motionless silence when Adriaan suddenly slapped her datapad on the table, startling Wolf out of his reverie. "We're not going to get anywhere with these loads of junk," she said, gesturing at the reports she had gotten from GAR intelligence and the files from Senator Danu. "Intel usually proves to be inaccurate."
"Well, there was a Mandalorian warrior on Kamino who once said, 'Three things you should never trust, son: weather reports, the canteen menu, and Intel.'"
"He's right. But he forgot to add another thing to the list. Sith." She shuddered. "I swear, I almost threw up when I played that holoclip a second time."
"Oh." She certainly hadn't looked sick when she had watched it. She had almost appeared bored.
"Yeah, well, I'm glad I found the guts to watch it a second time. I picked up a lot that I wouldn't have been able to notice in the first viewing."
"What did you pick up, ma'am?"
Adriaan suddenly seemed to notice that Wolf hadn't left with the rest. Her eyes narrowed. "Shouldn't you be frolicking with the other army deserters in the downstairs pool right now?"
"I didn't feel up to it. Darc can, well, you know…"
"…Get on your nerves? Well, I can't blame you for that."
"So, ma'am, can you tell me what you found?"
"Two things. One, when the man started choking the guards, he whispered something. It was very faint, but I could hear it. He said, 'Zhol kash dinora, Haak'ari.'" She paused, swallowing. "He spoke in the ancient tongue of the sith ––– a language only known to a few. And one of those few, I'm sorry to say, is me. 'It is done, Lord Haak.'"
Haak. Wolf gulped. "And Haak was that guy who…"
Her eyes were staring at her boots. "Yes. The one who attacked me on Umbria. The one who disappeared into thin air, as if he were little more than a wraith. But he was not a wraith…I felt him. He's here, on Kuat."
"Do you think he is in charge of the cultist organization?"
"The second thing I saw confirmed all doubt that Haak is responsible for the operations here. I observed that when the man lifted his right hand to mind-trick the guard, there was a dark crisscrossing of lines marking the flesh of his palm. The black marks outlined the creases in his palm, and then ran down his arm in a curving pattern…" Adriaan lifted her right hand to draw a spiraling pattern in the air. "You've seen that sort of tattoo before, haven't you?" she asked, holding her right arm still so that the stark contrast of black lines against white skin stood out clearly.
Wolf nodded. "You mean it's the same design that's tattooed on your own arm?"
"Correct."
Wolf paused, a bit uncomfortably. "You never told us how you got that tattoo."
"That's because it isn't a good story to tell before bedtime. Wolf, I've told you all about that mission I went on back when I was a Padawan…the one when I and Darc Chun-be were captured by pirates and sold into slavery? The time when I was almost bought as some sort of gladiator for General Grievous? Well, the pirates…were actually a cult of sith worshippers. And you may not know this yet about sith cultists ––– but you soon will, believe me, because the terrorist organization here is definitely a cult ––– but certain sects have a tattooing ritual, in which beings who wish to become part of the cult are marked with a sith tattoo to signify their bondage to the dark side.
She paused. "Now, don't get me wrong, I had no wish to join the ranks of the pirate sith. One doesn't have to give full consent of the will to become a sith initiate, apparently. Darc, my friend Ra'hal, and I were forced to bear the mark of the sith. It was one of the most frightening, painful, and humiliating ordeals we ever went through."
"But Darc doesn't have that tattoo anymore."
Adriaan smiled wryly. "Yes, but that is because I cut off his tattooed arm by accident when my Master made me switch my style of combat to double tonfa sabers. It took Darc a while to get used to his prosthetic arm, but he seems to be coping with the lost limb quite well now."
"So, do you think that the sith cultists who enslaved you a few years ago are the same organization operating on Kuat now?"
"Fairly certain; only the Disciples of Ragnos wear tattoos of that design."
"That's the name of the cult? Disciples of Ragnos?"
She nodded. "They are a sect of Force-sensitives who idolize a sith Lord called Marka Ragnos, who died some five thousand years ago. I'm told he was the greatest sith of his time, which was shortly before the Great Hyperspace War. However bad he was, it's hard to believe he was any worse than his followers. They're predators, hiding out in all corners of the galaxy, waiting for Force-sensitives ––– especially young, impressionable ones ––– to fall into their grasp. They employ some kind of long-term or permanent mind-trick to wipe the memories of the people they kidnap, so the brainwashed Force-sensitives will be easily seduced to the dark side. They're little better than slaves, carrying out the will of an ancient sorcerer long dead. The only way to stop them is to kill them."
She tossed the rest of the files onto the floor. "So, basically, that's quite a bit of Intel we've procured. We already know what sort of people we're dealing with; the only thing we need to do now is find a way to stop them. The next step is to set up a meeting with Onara Kuat, and see if we can get access to the shipyards so we can inspect the damaged ships and the vulnerability of the facility and such. That'll probably take place some time tomorrow."
She threw herself on the bed and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. "Now, I suppose I should take the opportunity to get some sleep…but I don't really feel like it. Do you, Wolf?"
"No, ma'am."
She picked up the swimsuit Darc had left lying on the bed and studied it critically. "Well, I suppose we could go downstairs and go swimming with the others. Kay Lee definitely chose this swimsuit; it's something I would wear. I suppose it would have been a bikini if Darc had picked it out." She swung her legs over the bed and raised herself to a sitting position. "Besides, it'd be a shame to waste the money they spent on it. Want to come down with me, Wolf'ika?"
Wolf'ika. Little Wolf. It was supposed to be a sign of affection, but it made Wolf wonder; did she really think of him as a little boy?
She looked so winsome, sitting there on the bed, swinging her legs and looking at him with her large blue eyes. Wolf suddenly felt the urge to shout it out then, declare his love for her now, even though Ember had said not to, because it wouldn't be fair…
Wolf paused to consider. Ember was completely right, of course; it wouldn't be fair to anyone if he and Adriaan became lovers. He would become a wedge between Adriaan and her Apprentices, and she would stand between him and his brothers. They would let their concern for each other get in the way of their respective duties. They were soldiers; their priority was the mission. Love would only distract them, and in a way, separate them from the squad. Couples naturally desired to have time alone together, and privacy was impossible in a tight-knit group such as this one.
So Wolf bit the impulse down, for his squad's and his General's sake. "Sure, ori'vod," he said.
Adriaan paused, staring at Wolf with a mixture of amazement and…yes, happiness. Briefly, he wondered what her reaction would have been if he had said, 'I love you' to her instead. Saying that would have brought himself great relief, but would it have done the same for Adriaan? No; she would probably be very upset about it. Ember was right; calling her 'big sister' was probably the best thing Wolf ever could have done for thought crossed his mind that perhaps that was truly what love was; sacrificing himself for the sake of others. The best way he could show his love for Adriaan was by immolating his personal feelings and obeying his Commander.
"You called me…big sister, as if I was one of you guys; part of the squad," she said slowly, her face glowing with surprised jubilation.
I love you! He wanted to scream, but he bit his tongue and smiled instead. "Well, that's what you are, right? You're one of us now. Part of Birov Alii'gai squad ––– the Rainbow Squad. The General of the ELF Commandos."
She stood up suddenly and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Oh, Fierfek. "That's the best thing you ever could have said to me, ner vod ––– mybrother. Thank you," she whispered, her lips so close to his ear that it sent a shiver down his spine. She released him just as quickly as she had embraced him, and ––– seemingly oblivious to the red flush of embarrassment on Wolf's face ––– swept out of the room to get changed.
Wolf sat down on the bed, picking up his swim trunks off the floor. "Curse you, Ember," he groaned. "Fierfek."
Adriaan had called him her brother, and he had twelve identical brothers whom he could count on to watch his back, but right now he felt like the loneliest being in the entire universe.
* * * * *
Adriaan was glad that her Padawans had already practically cleared the swimming area by the time she and Wolf came down. Besides the Jedi and the clones, the only people who were still there were mostly teenagers or young adults ––– people who tended to notice a group of ultra-fit young people and twelve men who looked almost exactly alike. Adriaan stopped for a moment at the edge of the pool, a feeling of pride washing over her as she gazed down at her raucous, obnoxious young trainees. They were certainly in their prime; both the boy and girl Padawans were all lean muscle, and the clones were solidly built, with not a hint of fat on them. A bunch of beach bodies ––– no wonder all those young Galactic citizens were still here, watching this strange team of super-athletic teens.
Right now they were playing a game, a really fun game, by the looks of it. Klamin, the shapeshifter, had morphed into a tiny glimmerfish and was swimming around in the pool, expertly eluding everyone's attempts to catch him. At one point he leaped high into the air and shapeshifted into a Wookiee, bodyslamming the pool and sending sheets of water high into the air, dousing everyone in the vicinity.
Adriaan and Wolf went over to an empty beach chair and threw their towels on top of it. Glancing around, Adriaan observed that Darc was the only member of the group not participating in the catch-the-Klamin game. Instead, he was taking part in his favorite activity: flirting.
"Moron," Adriaan muttered. "He must've thought I wasn't going to come down, otherwise he would be in the pool right now. They haven't been down here for half an hour, and already Darc is trying to make all the girls fall in love with him, just so that he can break their hearts when it's time for us to leave. He makes me sick."
"I don't think he's having much success," Wolf pointed out, observing the annoyed look on the face of a particularly stunning blue Twi'lek sunning in one of the beach chairs.
"Hey, Chun-be! I thought you promised to get some exercise, you di'kut!" Adriaan shouted, causing Darc to jump out of his seat in alarm.
"Wha ––– oh, um, hey, Ree," Darc said a little nervously. "I was just…taking a short break after winning the relay race we did. Guess what, my team won!"
"Uh-huh…and how long ago did you swim this race?"
"Um…fifteen minutes ago."
"Wow, and you're already dry as a Tattooine desert!" Adriaan pointed out. She hauled Darc to his feet and stood in front of him with her hands on her hips, her face just centimeters from his. "Don't lie to me again, Chun-be," she spat. "Wolf, kalikir di'kut ––– skewer this useless individual!"
"What?! You can't be serious! You're insane!" Darc yelped as Wolf, baring his perfect white teeth in a truly terrifying grimace, advanced, picked up Chun-be with as much ease as if he were lifting a child, and threw him headlong into the water like a ragdoll, to the great amusement of Kay Lee and the Twi'lek woman Darc had been antagonizing.
"Hahah! Dumb old Darc got dumped!" The Wicked Club yelled. "WICKED!"
"Kandosii! That was well done, Wolf!" Cor yelled.
Adriaan felt it necessary to apologize on her former friend's behalf; it wouldn't do for a member of her team to be riling citizens. "Ma'am, I am so sorry if my, uh, friend was pestering you," Adriaan said to the girl.
The Twi'lek didn't seem to hear her; she was staring with starlit eyes at Wolf and his powerful body. "Ah, it was no problem, really. At least it gave me a chance to see your, uh…muscular friend in action."
Wolf turned from the pool and seemed to see the woman for the first time. "Oh, uh, it was no problem, ma'am," he said, clicking his heels together and curbing his habit to salute just in time. Adriaan suppressed a sigh; her boys were wonderful in all sorts of ways, but one thing they could never be good at was blending in with young Galactic citizens. They were too fit, military protocol was too ingrained in their brains, and they were just simply too naïve about normal life. They knew almost nothing about jobs, families, social life. They always carried themselves erect, they always snapped to attention and answered with a prompt "Yes, ma'am!" "Yes, sir!" "No sir!" "Right away, ma'am!" "Sorry, ma'am!" No one acted that way in the regular galaxy; the clones couldn't be mistaken for anyone else except extremely excellent soldiers.
"I'm the aide of Senator Faya Thor of the planet Htrae; we stopped in Kuat for a few days to take a look at some luxury cruisers. How about you? Are you a ruler or a senator? You must be; you carry yourself with such dignity, and you have such noble features. Surely, you can't be anything less."
Adriaan grinned wryly, wondering what the Senate aide would think if Wolf told her that he was a Republic soldier; a man bred and sold as a slave warrior.
"Ambassador Neela Rain's bodyguard," Wolf said, indicating Adriaan. "From the planet Goba Shag."
"Ah, Goba Shag? That is quite close to Htrae. Perhaps whenever you get off duty you could stop by and visit me…?"
"Ah, I'm never off-duty, ma'am," Wolf said, and then he took a running leap and dove into the pool, leaving Adriaan to stand in awkward silence next to a very indignant Twi'lek aide.
Ooh, that was real smooth, Wolf, she thought. She couldn't really think of anything else to say to the Twi'lek, and anyway her teammates were yelling at her to jump into the pool and help them catch the slippery Shi'Odo fish, so she took her leave of the aide and jumped off the edge and into the foaming, churning water.
She surfaced to find herself in the nucleus of a mass of roiling Padawans and clone troopers, whooping and hollering and coughing and spluttering as they darted this way and that and sank underwater, each of them determined to catch fish-Klamin first. Adriaan, treading water in the twelve-meter deep pool, spied a small silver shape darting through the murky liquid. Drag, his attention completely absorbed by the fish, knocked Adriaan over as he dove for the little grey sliver.
"I got him!" Drag yelled as he resurfaced.
"Ow! That's my foot!" Marya yelped. "Keep your hands off me, will you?"
"It's coming toward me!" Kay shrieked as the silver shape streaked forward.
"WICKED!" Aedan yelled, jumping in the water right over the fish. He came up spluttering and flailing his arms in the air. "Help! I can't GOODLY swim!"
"You were swimming just fine in the relay race," Kay pointed out.
"I GOODLY forgot how! Help!"
"We'll save you, WICKED Aedan!" Jahn Pal bawled, leaving the safety of the shallow end of the pool and jumping in to the deep water. He surfaced next to Aedan and began to flail his arms frantically.
"Sai'wer! Help! I just remembered that I can't swim!" Jahn Pal yelled. He grabbed Aedan and pinned the boy's arms to his sides as he clung to the Wicked King, forcing Aedan's face into the water.
"Stop, you idiot! You're drowning me!" Aedan shrieked, forcing his head to the surface.
Heatrian, whose biological makeup made it impossible for him to submerge himself in water, was pacing the edge of the swimming pool, looking as if he were on the verge of jumping in himself. "Nic, Andre, Sai'wer! Save him, you GOODS!"
Nic and Andre, who were diving underwater in relays to keep a lookout on the fish, glanced over at Aedan and Jahn Pal. "I'm no GOOD lifeguard," Andre said huffily.
"Me, neither," Nic said, sinking underwater again as the fish came around.
"How about you, Sai'wer?" Heatrian asked hopefully.
"Oh, yes," Sai'wer said proudly. "I can swim about as well as a bantha."
"But banthas can't swim…"
"Sai'wer to the WICKED rescue!" Sai'wer howled, jumping in after Jahn Pal and Aedan.
Now Aedan had two pudgy boys on top of him, weighing him down so that he could no longer keep his head above the water. Adriaan figured she'd better go over and help the poor kid out. All it took was six strokes across the pool to grab the three "drowners" by their arms and haul them back to the shallow end, where there was less chance of Aedan getting killed by the stupidity of his "genius" friends.
"Ori'vod! Ori'vod! I caught him!" Wolf shouted ecstatically. Adriaan turned to see her adopted little brother grasping fish-Klamin in his fist, waving the shapeshifter triumphantly in the air.
Adriaan smiled. "Oya! Go you!" she hollered encouragingly.
The fish shuddered in Wolf's hand and suddenly morphed into a Mon Calamari. "Good game," he said. "Man, you're fast; I didn't even see you coming."
"I've caught fish with my bare hands many times before," Wolf said as an explanation for his success. "Kamino is an aquatic world, so I had plenty of opportunities to practice there. All of us soldiers had to take a compulsory class in catching fish, just in case we were stuck behind enemy lines and had to hunt for our own food."
"It wasn't an unfair advantage, Wolf," Kay said. "You guys had the training, but us Padawans had the Force. So it was a fair game."
"Who's up for another round?" Klamin called out. "This time, I think I'll turn into a microorganism. See if you guys can catch me then!"
Everyone laughed uproariously at this.
"You cannot hide."
Adriaan shivered. Why did the water seem cold all of a sudden? She had heard someone…no, how could she have heard anyone speak in all this racket? She had sensed something…something bad.
Just then something heavy shoved her behind and knocked her flat on her face into the water. Fearing an attack, she resurfaced immediately, fists raised and her nose smarting from the water she had inhaled.
"Ah, sorry, ori'vod," Wolf said apologetically, patting her on the shoulder. His face reddened suddenly, and he lowered his eyes and stepped away quickly, turning away as he renewed his search for fish-Klamin.
Adriaan looked around, wondering what had made Wolf act so embarrassed. Okay, that was just a little weird. Perhaps he had breached trooper protocol by bowling over his Jedi General. That was probably it. Adriaan shook her head, grinning wryly. All the clones ––– excluding Rez, who was the most insouciant and sociable young man she had ever met ––– needed to learn how to relax. It wasn't the end of the world if they made a couple of little mistakes ––– at least, it wasn't for Adriaan. She couldn't say the same for their Kaminoan trainers, beings who were reportedly obsessed with perfection.
"We will never stop hunting you. There is no escape."
Adriaan shook the droplets of water from her hair. Get a hold on yourself, she told herself sternly, stop acting as if those voices inside your head are real.
Something black and white flashed across her vision; a black spiral bound to a pale ivory hand. The memory rose unbidden to her mind.
"You are now slaves of the dark side. Welcome to the Order of the Cult of Ragnos, Adriaan ell Talaan. Now nothing can hide you from us. You are bound to us forever."
"Darc, Darc, cut off my hand!" she screamed.
"You're mad!" he shouted. "Get a hold of yourself!"
"No! No! Better only one arm and be free than two arms and be a slave. Cut it off!"
How many times she had wished she hadn't had her right arm; how many times she had wished the tattoo wasn't there, a sign to all of her bondage to a sith cult.
Don't be ridiculous. A tattoo doesn't make you a member of a sith cult. It's just a tattoo. Get over it.
Adriaan closed her eyes, willing herself to be calm.
Now nothing can hide you from us.
Her eyes snapped open, realizing what she had just seen a few seconds ago. The tattoo ––– her tattoo ––– on the arm of another person.
"Oya!" Wolf was holding up fish-Klamin again. Either Klamin was a very slow fish ––– which Adriaan doubted, since it had taken her companions quite some time to catch him ––– or Wolf had a very low chance of starving to death out in the wilderness.
"Play again?" Klamin asked, shapeshifting into a human. "Or do you want to play 'catch the Darc' instead?"
"That sounds like a fun game," Kay said, smirking wickedly as she glanced at Darc. "How long do we get to hold him underwater after we catch him?"
"For as long as you like," Ember answered, grinning at the pale hue Darc's face had taken.
"Okay, let's start," Wolf said, moving toward Adriaan. "Want to play, ma'am?"
"In a moment," Adriaan said, distracted. On impulse, she reached out and placed her hand on the clone's shoulder. "Um, Wolf, did you see the girl that walked by a few minutes ago?"
Wolf frowned, puzzled. "Perhaps…but there are many girls here."
"She was very pale, white hair, white eyes…Arkanian, I think. She had four fingers on each hand…yes, she was definitely Arkanian." She stiffened as the Force surged; the flash of black and white appeared on her scopes again. "See, there. Fourteen or fifteen years old, about my height, blue swimsuit. Do you see her?!"
Wolf turned and stared in the direction Adriaan was pointing. "I'd say about fifteen years old, ma'am," he observed, "with a powder blue tankini."
Adriaan fought down the impatient retort that rose to her lips. "Okay, she's fifteen years old and wearing a powder blue tankini. So you see her?"
"Affirmative."
Adriaan swallowed. "Okay, now look at the hand she's lifting to push back her hair."
Wolf saw it. She heard his sharp intake of breath. "Oh."
"You see it?"
"Black spiral tattoo on her right arm?"
"Yes. So I'm not imagining things?"
"No, ma'am. It's definitely there."
"I don't suppose you brought that tracking dust with you when you came down here?"
"I always come prepared, ma'am."
In ordinary circumstances, Adriaan would have laughed at the seemingly unnecessary precaution of bringing military kit to a public pool, but right now she couldn't have been any prouder of him. "Good boy, little brother; now go fetch it. I'll get her set up for you. Go go go!"
Wolf took off, sprinting for the beach chairs where they had set their towels. Adriaan watched with mixture of amusement and pride as he withdrew a small packet that had been hidden in his bunched up towel.
"This should be enough," he said. "We'll need to get close enough so that she inhales it; we don't want it to come off when she jumps into a pool or changes her clothes or anything."
"Right." Adriaan took the packet. "Wolf, I have to know; what else did you bring down here?"
He paused. "Just a holdout blaster and some alpha charges…I never go anywhere without some sort of protection."
Leave it to Wolf to be a walking munitions depot. "If I didn't need this dust, I would call you paranoid."
"Nothing wrong with trying to keep us all alive, ma'am."
Adriaan peeled back the wrapping and inspected the contents. GAR Procurement Development had invented dust fairly recently; it was espionage equipment, designed to track targets or monitor battlefields. The powdery substance was actually composed of microscopic transmitters which would adhere to the subject and actively transmit the target's location for about four weeks.
The best way to tag a suspect was by getting them to inhale the dust, so it wouldn't get washed or taken off. After the suspect was tagged, an optical EM filter would be used to detect the electromagnetic emissions and track the target. Adriaan and Wolf just had to figure out an inconspicuous way to make the Arkanian inhale the dust.
"I've got an idea," Adriaan said quietly.
"Fill me in."
"I'm clumsy."
Wolf's eyebrows shot up. "I beg your pardon?"
"I'm clumsy, and you're just a big bully that likes to push everyone out of his way."
"With all due respect, ma'am, you're incorrect."
"I know that, Wolf," Adriaan said. "I'm going to pretend that I'm clumsy, and you're going to pretend be someone who prefers to shove people out of the way instead of being a gentleman and saying, 'excuse me'"
"Ahhh…"
"What? Is there something wrong with the plan?"
"Nah, it's brilliant."
"Okay. Get going."
Adriaan slid her slippers onto her feet, observing the damp floor with approval. The slick surface would make the incident even more realistic. Using her peripheral vision to locate the Arkanian cultist, she began to walk in a random pattern around the pool, keeping her gaze on the swimmers.
"Go Kay! Go Kan! Yeah! You almost got 'im!" she yelled, shuffling along the edge of the pool, pretending to be completely absorbed in her companions' game and cheering them on. "Whoo! Yeah! Knock him out!"
Adriaan felt rather than saw the alien getting closer to her. The Arkanian was busy typing information onto her datapad; she wasn't interested in Adriaan at all. Adriaan didn't care if the Arkanian thought her unworthy of interest; in fact, better she not notice the Jedi at all, until it was too late.
"Whoa! Keep clear of the edge, Ambassador! You're going to fall in!" Darc shouted.
"All right! All right!" Adriaan yelled, stepping back to allow herself more room. "There! Is that better?"
"Thank you, Ambassador. Now, if you don't mind, could you stop cheering on these barbarians and come in to give me a hand?"
"Sorry! This is too fun to watch!" Adriaan took another step backward as the Arkanian slowly came closer. The girl's eyes were still glued to her datapad. I wonder what she's reading, Adriaan wondered. Perhaps I can take a peek at it when I…
RV point. Moment of impact. Let's go, Wolf.
"Coming through!" Adriaan was suddenly knocked clear off her feet and sent flying in a sideways somersault as Wolf steamrolled her with the ease of a professional smashball player. Oh, sithspit, there's no way I can tag her with me spinning out of control like this. She called upon the Force in a lastditch attempt, slowing down time until one second seemed to last an eternity. Adriaan had stopped her headlong collision into the cultist; she saw the frozen look of shock written across the Arkanian's face in the crystal clarity of slow motion. Adriaan twisted around so that she was falling forward, and she thrust her arms out to stop her fall. As her hands came up before the Arkanian's face, she uncurled her fist, the fist that held the packet of dust…
Time was set in motion again. The Arkanian let out a gasp of surprise, and instantaneously, the dust spilled out of the packet, only to be immediately sucked into the girl's open mouth. Hoping that the girl was not attune enough to sense that she had inhaled a substance other than air and its regular contaminants, Adriaan barreled right into the cultist and sent them both sprawling on the wet floor.
"Keepuna!" the girl sputtered. "Watch where you're going!"
"I am so sorry," Adriaan said, jumping to her feet and wincing at the pain in her hip. Man, I seriously hope that's just a bruise. She extended her hand to help the girl to her feet, glaring accusingly at Wolf's retreating figure as she did so. "That dumb boy just shoved me into you. It was his fault!"
The girl opened her mouth to say something that was no doubt profane, when her eyes fell on Adriaan's outstretched hand. Her gaze traveled up the Jedi's arm until her eyes met Adriaan's. Then, slowly, a smile curled her lips. "It is no matter," she said. Suddenly she grabbed Adriaan's arm and yanked her forward. "Are you a Chosen One?" she breathed.
Adriaan hardly knew what the girl meant by a "Chosen One" but she supposed it was some cult password, so she nodded. "Yes."
Much to Adriaan's puzzlement, the girl responded with an enthusiastic embrace. Even more astonishing was the fact that the hug felt affectionate. Heartfelt. Genuine.
Fierfek, do I have this all wrong? Is this kid truly a sith Disciple?
"You and I are like sisters, then: united by the same noble cause!" the girl cried.
Arkanians generally thought themselves evolutionarily superior to other races; this was the first time Adriaan had heard of someone of that species who fancied a mere human fit enough to be referred to as a "sister" Adriaan was becoming greatly confused. The girl didn't match sith cultist criteria at all.
Adriaan had had plenty of encounters with sith, and none of them had been like this girl. Dark side adepts had all seemed cold, foreign, aloof. The girl's warm reception was more unsettling to Adriaan than if she had greeted the Jedi with a string of Huttese expletives; Adriaan suddenly wanted to get far away from this girl, to run away and hide in the hotel room, where she wouldn't have to face this woman, whose personality contradicted affiliation.
"Are you a fellow initiate, or one of the Masters?" the Arkanian asked now.
"Huh? Oh…initiate, like you," Adriaan said, figuring that a rookie identity would best cover up her ignorance. "Neela Rain; who are you?"
"Elsil Helek, but we're really not supposed to be calling each other by name in public places. Didn't you attend that introductory talk given by Malis'ari?"
Malis'ari. Lord Malis. If that wasn't a sith name, then Aedan was the most well-behaved, obedient, trustworthy Padawan in the Jedi Order. Adriaan began to feel more reassured that the Arkanian was what she thought she was. "Oh, I guess I skipped that lecture," she said rather lamely.
"Really? Then you must not have been briefed on our upcoming objective…I mean, you must not have heard about the party," Elsil said with a giggle that was achingly similar to Jordin's laugh.
Get it out of your head. This is the enemy, not your Padawan; Jordin and Elsil are about as similar as sunshine and darkness. They have absolutely nothing in common.
"No, I didn't get the invitation," Adriaan answered, wondering what the "party" was. Probably not something I would want to go to, she reflected as she added, "I've been out of contact for a while because the last party I went to was quite…exhilarating." She paused, watching Elsil's facial expression to see if she understood what she meant. I nearly got caught by the police. Elsil nodded, acknowledging that she knew what Adriaan was talking about. "So I've been resting for a few days after that hectic night; you know how it is, the morning right after a wild festivity. So, what's the scoop on this new party? Same theme, or what?" So I've been laying low for a few days so I wouldn't get caught. What's our next objective? Is it similar to the last one, or is our target going to be different?
"You should have seen Uadjii last night; he ate four bantha burgers before he even remembered to wipe his face with a napkin. Seriously, boys are so gross sometimes." Helek didn't appear to be answering Adriaan's question, but the Jedi suspected that the Arkanian was giving her the mission objective in code. Wolf will probably know what she's saying. "Anyway, the party is two days from now; same place, same time as before. Just make sure you wear your blue-black eye shadow to the event, 'cause that's what all us girls decided to wear. We're all going in matching outfits; black cocktail dress, blue sash, blue-black eye shadow. Okay? I think Bes is planning on having us do that dance we choreographed last year. Remember?"
This girl sure knew how to write between the lines. Adriaan could only hope that she would be able to figure out what Elsil meant before the operation would take place. Two days from now. With twenty-some people applying their brains to cracking this code, she was sure she'd be able to do it in that time.
"Okay, I'll be there," Adriaan said.
"Queshii Jidai!" Helek said with a smile that again reminded Adriaan of Jordin, and then the Arkanian ambled off, animatedly tapping on her datapad as she finished her text message.
Adriaan, realizing that she had forgotten to take a look at the datapad screen, could only stare after Elsil in shock. That girl was full of contradictions; she walked and talked like any nonsensical, girly teenager, but her parting words were anything but light and cheerful.
Wolf sauntered up behind her. "Well, that played out nicely. She's transmitting on the EM filter like a homing beacon. Kandosii, ori'vod." He shifted uncomfortably when she gave no answer; Adriaan could feel his puzzlement through the Force. "Ori'vod? Come on, what's wrong? Did we tag the wrong target?"
Adriaan turned around slowly and met his anxious, dark eyes with her own solemn blue ones. "No, she was the right one. Who else would know how to say, 'Curse the Jedi' in sith language?"