A challenge is as good as the pleasure you get out of it.

Chapter Nineteen: Like the Other Girls

The next day, classes resumed as normal. After the lunch break, Rosita made her way to the metallurgy lab with Kalin and Dibbs. Of course, Spenc was nowhere to be found. He had skipped their other classes so far that day as well.

Fuck him then.

Rosita tossed her head back and dropped her bag onto a workbench. If he were wise, he'd come to his senses and take her back. As for Thrawn, that slithering, scheming—she bit back a smile and pressed her knees together. 'What's your angle, anyway?' she wondered, turning to find him leaning down to slip his datapad out from his bag.

She would have some words with him too.

"If you haven't finished your plating," Major Needa began, drawing their attention to the front of the classroom, "It's up to you to complete it on your own time. Come see me and arrange a timeslot to use the lab after hours."

Needa moved across her desk and sat against the very corner of it. "For now, we'll begin another plastoid melt-and-pour sculpture. You'll have one week to design and create moulds for another prototype, only this time, you'll be turning your sculptures into fully functional weapons for your final assignment."

Rosita straightened up and looked around, her heart had jolted with excitement. She wasn't the only one fidgeting in her seat; they had all been anticipating this assignment since year one.

"Further instructions will be uploaded on the Data Vortex. See or message me for further inquiries. Now, begin sketching your designs. You have all the information you need, but this is a time for creativity. Innovation is the word, Cadets."

'Absolutely!' Rosita thought. She pulled out her datapad, an idea already taking form in her mind.

It would be sleek and grey, thin but powerful, deceivingly basic in its design. She thought of Vanto and those spud cannons they used in Wild Space—for fun, apparently.

To impress the instructors with a basic pipe structure, she would have to synthesize a superior propellant. One so powerful as to make the minimalism of her blaster's design seem whimsical, rather than primitive. She thought of the CS Tatent coils in her Blaster Rifle's components. Were they allowed to use existing ones to improve upon, or was she expected to design her own? She would have to log onto the Vortex to find out, but something told her to make her own. Grand Moff Tarkin only took the best into his initiative program, after all.

There was time to worry about the logistics later. For now, she began to sketch her heart's desire.

…

Rosita sat in the Damask Study Hall. The fading sun warmed the back of her neck as she scrolled through many blaster schematics and component blueprints. They were all so sleek and beautiful. Speaking of beauty, her eyes flashed to the screen of Dibbs's computer—something red and lacy had caught Rosita's eye. "That dress!" she gushed, eyeing it in hunger. "Is it yours? I've never seen you in something like that."

Dibbs chuckled. "Nope. It's not for me, Carly's wearing it to the Midterm Ball."

Rosita groaned in appreciation, envy, and anticipation of seeing it in person. "She's going to stun us all."

"As always," Dibbs replied with a nod of the head. "We picked it during Galactic City Fashion Week. Got it straight off the runway, so it's one of a kind. I can't wait to see her in it."

They pursed their lips, their eyes glittering wetly in shared understanding.

Rosita pulled up a picture of the dress she had bookmarked. Her next payment was coming up, and, fortunately, it was to be a rather sizable one. "I'm getting this one."

"Oh my," Kalin leaned over from her other side. "It looks just like a Melodie tail, if she had silver scales."

Kalin flexed her fingers and said, "I'm getting one!"

"You're not getting the same dress as me," Rosita said blandly. "That would be stupid."

"Why, are you afraid I'll wear it better?" she asked.

Rosita sniffed but followed it up with a grin. "Can you imagine?" she asked. "If we wore the same dress?"

"Would that be so bad?" Kalin asked. "What do you think?" she said, nudging Dibbs.

"It's a nice dress," Dibbs answered. "You will certainly stand out. Both of you."

"Well, yeah," Rosita said, her eyes moving up from the screen to stare across the room. Thrawn was coming in, and without his pet Vanto trotting along. A rare occurrence. How unfortunate for him. "We'll talk about it later," she said, standing up. Thrawn was crossing the room to the towering shelves of datachips and disappeared between the many rows. She would follow him. He owed her an explanation.

It was apparent that he knew she was standing there right next to him, despite how he pretended to focus on the task at hand. His posture was a little too stiff and alert, his wandering eyes and hands not truly focusing on the datachip cases he was so intent on searching.

"Ever the strong and silent type, aren't you?" she mused. "You know, I can tell the difference between a person who's quiet because they're a coward or as dull as an old credit chip, and a person who's quiet because…" she trailed off.

His hand hovered over a case that read: Weaponry a Look Inside. "And a person who is quiet because...?"

"Because they've got it all figured out."

He smirked then finally turned to face her. "Cadet Turuy, I do believe congratulations are in order."

She stared at him for a moment, then she said, "Thank you."

"Yes."

"I'm sure you've heard the many theories and vicious rumours floating around about the validity of my victory. I'm sure you have your questions as well."

His silence was answer enough.

"Even if the teams were left as they were," she began hotly, "My team still would have won." He needed to know this. "I had a lot to prove," she went on, "and I had more to lose. I guess you can say, I was in the zone. Now..." She trailed off and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Thrawn had already turned back to the shelves to continue his search.

"And now, you have come to grasp the price of gold." He sniffed slightly.

"The price of—" she broke off with a scowl. Around them, other cadets milled about. She didn't want to be caught dead speaking with him, so she shouldered her way around him and muttered, "Follow me," from the corner of her mouth.

He did. Rosita led him to the deserted annex she and Spenc used on occasion.

"Well?" she said, turning around to face him. "What happened the other night?"

"You will have to be more specific."

She crossed her arms tightly. Like she would ever say it. "I thought we came to an understanding."

"And what understanding would that be?"

Was he really going to play it this way? She opened her mouth, then closed it. Why did she ever think she could trust him? Her nipples prodded at her arms, the sensation a reminder of precisely what caused her moment of weakness. She looked down and hoped the poor lighting amongst the shelves was enough to hide the embarrassed flush of her cheeks.

"You should have run," she muttered.

"I saw no reason to run," he replied.

"You knew how it would look, at least in the eyes of those who attacked you."

"I aimed to defend myself. Those who came for me seemed eager to have me. I gave them what they wanted, and, in doing so, I safeguarded myself from further harassment."

"You aimed to fuck me," she retorted, a bit more loudly than necessary.

Thrawn cocked an eyebrow. "Fuck," he began, head tilting and eyes boring into her own. "In what way do you mean this word? I know of both its meanings."

Rosita rubbed a hand down her face with a loud and tired sigh, but couldn't stop the bout of laughter from slithering past her lips. She leaned back against the wall and tried hard to think of Spenc and that one last look of disgust he had given her when he dumped her.

"Are you here to work on your weapon design?" Thrawn managed to ask this before she had the chance to picture it accurately.

"Yes. And you?"

"Yes. I wish to learn more about the chemistry used for Imperial weaponry."

"Me too. I'm—" she broke off. Again, she had to remind herself not to trust him.

"Would you like to see what I have sketched so far?"

"Really?" Rosita balked in surprise. Thrawn trusted her with his first drafts?

He did, evidently. He took his datapad from his bag, opened the necessary document, then handed it to her.

"A pistol," she said. It didn't look very innovative in its design, but maybe, just like with hers, that was the point.

"Very nice," she admitted. "A good pistol has its uses. It's practical. The instructors will like that," she added. "For me, I've always wanted a rifle that can not only be used with one hand, but one designed for precisely that." She held her hands out and mimed shooting.

Thrawn seemed to find this amusing, his usually blank façade broke with emotion—not a smirk, but a small smile that betrayed everything she needed to know about him.

"Interesting," he said. "Your challenge will be to fit all the necessary parts at a much lighter weight. To present a weapon that you could not use would be foolish."

"I know," she said, envisioning not one but two long, thin barrels, two hollow stocks made with a light alloy weaving, and, inside them, a smaller, optimized capacitor bank with her own synthesized coils that would withstand far higher temperatures than the CS Tatent. "I'm working on it."

"If you need a second pair of eyes, I would be pleased to help you."

"I know you would." She looked around their small space before pushing herself off the wall. "I'll see you around, Thrawn."

Whatever fascination they had shared with one another had come to its inevitable and necessary end.