Performance Anxiety
Pol rolled onto her back and tried to sleep soundly. Canderous observed her as she struggled, burying herself in the warm folds of her sheets and the depths of her unconsciousness, shunning the early morning awareness that tugged at her mind and eyelids. Her eyes were fixed shut and her brows knit forming a frown as he looked down at her.
The deep sonorous baritone of her manservant roused her and she sighed cracking open her eyes lethargically beneath long lashes. "Good morning Mistress," Vlad paused waiting for his Mistress to awaken respectfully, "I have something for you." He inspected his early morning offering, with eagerness, and a smidgen of discomfiture, she will notice.
Anju sat up slowly with a quick glance at his offering and she went wide-eyed in surprise; she gave a queer little smile, and then launched into a disparaging tirade, "Just what do you call that? Vlad this simply won't do!"
Vlad looked downcast; his shoulders slumped under the weight of her reprimand. "I only wish to please you my Lady," he demurred; his tone was somber but insistent.
"With that!" Anju pointed, "Humph, you couldn't satisfy a half starved Nal Hutta joy girl with that." She folded her arms across her chest with a disdainful sniff. What's he playing at? It's behavior like this that will expose us as imposters.
A note of derision crept into Vlad's tone. He knew it wasn't perfect, but he had higher hopes for the reception of his offering than what he had received, "Perhaps if Mistress used a lighter hand?" Mandalore's balls she is a fracking tyrant, he thought Mumbling through clenched teeth he said, "It's not easy to perform under such pressure."
"N'jurkad - watch your tone, and take that away. Do it over, no excuses, I want fresh caffa and this time; DON'T burn the toast!" Pol picked the datapad containing her itinerary off the tray. A quick glance revealed a single word underscored and placed out of context. She quirked a brow at her manservant, Vlad 'ahemed' and waited patiently for her to catch on.
After a sleight of hand that would have impressed a seasoned scoundrel like Mission, Vlad left his Mistresses rooms with rejected breakfast tray and a discreet bundle wrapped in his hands and prowled the corridors back to the kitchens.
Slaves Quarters – Kitchen – Canderous Undercover
Canderous returned to the terminal in the kitchen with the extra com spikes in hand. Like every room in the academy, it was linked to the mainframe. Logically this meant any computer could be accessed from that point. However factoring in the Mandalorian's deficient computer skills so far he hadn't been able to get the stubborn kitchen terminal to do any more than place orders for ingredients and view almost a thousand recipes for variants of gruel.
Canderous refused to accept defeat; he knew if he could download the security codes for her, Pol could work wonders and break the system. I should have gotten this right the first time he berated himself. He had been given an introductory crash course on slicing by Pol back at Davik's estate. Prior to meeting Mission and Pol his computer technique had been limited to: demolishing obstinate systems or threatening someone else with more skill at blaster point until they made it do what you wanted.
Since then he had learned quite a bit, but he had rarely had cause to utilize the learning as Mission or Pol had always filled the role. So it had taken a few attempts for Canderous to slice the system, and he was fresh out of com spikes. He knew that striking out for Pol's rooms to collect the equipment he needed would be pointless without an excuse to return to the privacy of the early morning kitchen.
With this in mind, he had burnt the toast on purpose and put half a cup of salt into Pol's caffa, to give himself a convenient excuse to go back. Lucky she didn't drink it. Despite all his efforts at getting her attention, it had been highlighting the word 'security' on her electronic diary that had eventually gotten the point home.
Establishing a worthwhile connection with the terminal at last Canderous grinned to himself. Gotcha, while the files downloaded he set about making his Mistresses breakfast anew. He looked at his watch. 5 am, she's gonna kill me when she works out how early it is. He had been up since four, Canderous cracked a smile at the thought. He had started the 'day repulsively early' as Pol called anything before seven, to avoid contact with the other slaves. So far he had been able to do his snooping and attempted slicing undisturbed.
The servants he had met the night before had been a miserable bunch for the most part. Not a one of them having an hour or more each day to spare for themselves, it was understandable. From what he had gleaned from the talk in the musty dorm they shared, their greatest joy came when one of their master's gained prestige.
The increase in privileges for the trainee Sith, their master, often made their daily duties easier, or at least provided them with a change to a monotonous and often hated routine. Canderous had barely slept and had been keen to leave the dorm hours before the sun had risen.
He rubbed his eyes wearily, early was early even by his standards and the caffa smelled good. The image of Pol as he had found her that morning stayed with him. Her hair sprawled across the pillow, the way her lips fell open slightly and her eyes moved rapidly beneath the heavy lids as she dreamed. The way her curves seductively disturbed the sheets, her vulnerability, and her beauty had tugged at him in some ways he had grown accustomed to and some ways that he hated to admit.
He recalled the genuine disappointment he had felt when she chastised him over the intentionally lousy breakfast. Bah, I've been under her thrall too long. I'll end up a like a Republic boy if we don't get off this frack awful world soon. He had heard the line before, but in his first solar cycle as a slave, he had come to accept that truly no one notices the help.
A sound from the slave's quarters signified the end of his peace and quite. The swing door creaked open and Vlad shifted so that his back obscured the terminal, as a sleepy eyed servant staggered into the kitchen. Vlad leaned against the serving bench by the refrigeration system and pretended to wait for the percolator. He wiped the smile from his face and watched the younger male.
Tieri Markov: Average Joe Servant
The young slave yawned and rubbed his hands over his freshly shaven face. He took up a stool, rested the heels of his boots against the preparation area with no regard for hygiene and tied his laces. Tieri stood again ramming his shirt tails untidily into his trousers. He gave himself a scratch and the air a sniff, burnt toast.
He grunted and poured himself a cup of second rate caffa. The kind left out for the 'help'. After a few mouthfuls of the vaguely caffa like ink had swilled past his diseased looking gums, the servant looked at the rooms other occupant. Hey it's the new guy, Tieri thought to himself suppose I should make friends, find out what I can about the new apprentice for Master.
With a sincere smile and a polite nod for his fellow bondsman the slave greeted Vlad. "Hi I'm Tieri. You're under Master Ban's new apprentice aren't you? What's her name, Anju?" The grey haired Mandalorian gave a cool shrug of reply and looked impatiently at the caffa machine.
Tieri kept at him, knowing any information the giant of a man gave up would be worth the praise of his Master, even if it didn't lead Master Mekel to a promotion or earn him prestige.
Canderous - Vlad
Vlad tried to ignore Tieri, and nearly succeeded until the youth mentioned Anju's name. "Lady Anju's fracking hot, but I hear she's a real tyrant. My Master says that happens when a Jedi is strong in the force, they get despotic."
Vlad ground his teeth, but held his temper in check; he's just trying to sympathize with me. "She has her whims," he admitted with an apathetic scowl. Go away kid. Acutely aware that the percolator was almost done and that the codes had been downloaded to his datapad Vlad held out waiting for Tieri to turn his back. As soon as he moves, I'll kill the uplink and finish Anju's breakfast - no problem.
"But from the smile you were wearing when I first walked in here, I'd say she can't be all bad huh? Huh?" Tieri gave a foolish leer and ambled towards the serving bench Vlad was propping up.
Ah crap he saw that? Vlad gave a noncommittal grunt and threw the youth a warning glare. It went unheeded. Tieri continued to walk closer to Vlad and the violated security terminal he was hiding Turn your head and look at the clock kid. "Yeah she's real fussy, what time is it?"
Tieri checked his wristwatch and reached for the refrigerator door dangerously close to the supplies terminal. You idiot, thought Vlad. Tieri answered, "Four minutes past five, she's probably quick with her criticism, but I bet she's a killer in the sack," the servant jibed conspiratorially throwing Vlad a merry but knowing wink.
Canderous snapped in true 'Mando'ad' style, OH that's it! His arm jerked out almost of its own accord and his fist connected happily with Tieri's face picoseconds later. The union was like a good old fashioned Mandalorian marriage, a cheery but bloody affair. Unfortunately, Tieri's face played an unwilling bride to Canderous's cogent and uncompromising fist. It could only end in tears.
Moments earlier – Tieri Markov
The smell of burnt toast had solved the breakfast dilemma for Tieri. He resolved to serve Mekel eggs, and headed towards the industrial refrigerators beside the computer terminal, joking with the new guy as he went, "….killer in the sack," He was about to ask the Mandalorian servant to move so he could access the supplies when out of nowhere the blow landed.
The sucker punch shattered the cartilage in his nose and Tieri choked on the fresh rivulets of blood that coursed down the back of his throat. The last thing he head beyond the whooshing sound of the coma curtain falling about his ears, was the Mandalorians voice as he said, "Killer is right."
Vlad – Canderous
As the unfortunate youth crumpled to the floor Vlad shook his hand, flexed his fingers and gave his knuckles a crack. "Nothing personal," He muttered, you just got too close… and no one talks trash about my Anju. Rapidly he looked for a towel to lift the blood splatter from his fist and uniform, unhooked the datapad and poured the caffa. He fetched the remainders of breakfast and strolled casually back to Mistress Anju's quarters.
Mistress Anju's Rooms
With a proud smile Vlad handed the tray to Anju slipping the datapad full of the hard won security codes to her beneath it. Let's just hope you can do more with theses than get permission to order an extra ration of gruel Champ.
She took the tray to her knee and concealed the datapad amongst the wreck of her bed sheets and nightgown. "Much improved," she said taking a swig of the caffa. Vlad stood beside the bed, with his hands clasped behind his back. He awaited for her critique of his mornings duties.
Anju looked up at him, and gave a light chuckle; it wasn't the Mandalorians impatience that made her smile, but his enthusiasm. Pol melted, he wants praise from his mistress, he's so cute. She ran her tongue over her teeth as she discreetly examined the codes.
Much to her delight Canderous had acquired the set she wanted, she stashed the datapad clasped a hand to her breast and thanked him appealingly, "Oh well done Vladimir," Oh you gorgeous clever man thing! Fracking stupid cameras, if it weren't for the surveillance I'd be smothering you all kinds of grateful affection right now… instead, wary of the camera mounted on the wall behind Vlad that faced her, she took a bite of her food, "this is perfect." Anju pointed to the tray for the benefit for any who might be watching her.
Canderous grinned, "Have I satisfied you my Lady?" He asked suggestively reveling in the coy reaction his words won from Pol.
Trying desperately to suppress a blush Anju replied in kind, "Yes Vlad, you have satisfied me," she whispered a reprimand, "don't smile, you're supposed to fear me"
"I do." Vlad stated blandly, without moving.
Anju was about to dismiss him from her bedside when she noticed a tiny red splash upon his neck "Is that blood on your neck?" She squinted up him. Vlad's hand went to it wiping the general area clean, she frowned at his damaged hand, "Oh Vlad, your hand, who'd you crown?" As callous as the prayer seemed she sincerely hoped it hadn't been any person of note.
She abandoned her breakfast, and slipped into the top half of her uniform, slipping her nightgown out from below it as she pulled on the strides. Their clothes are better, the fashion conscious Jedi will flock. Pol shook her head and wondered how many flavors of hell Bastila would give to hear her say such a thing. The Jedi had been on her mind a lot since they arrived on Korriban and that morning was no exception.
She listened intently as she dressed and Vlad explained his injury, "Just a slave, there was an altercation, I defended your honor…" Canderous leaned out from his stationary pose to get a better view of Pol as she dressed.
The ritual fascinated him at the best of times, but she seemed to be going about it in a whole new way around as mistress Anju. He decided there was a lot less skin, and that he preferred the usual modest shrug on shrug off 'don't mind me' technique she used when they were alone. She always turned her back, and it was still a reticent affair, but a hell of a lot more fun.
"It's just as well," Anju said as she fished the spool of laces out of the inside of the black Sith stalker boots and flung them on the bed. Feeling utterly ogled enough for one day; she deliberately took a seat on the bed with her back to the camera. She rammed her foot into a brand new thick soled boot dropping into until it was past her knee.
"May I be of assistance?" a trace of hope tinged his voice. The wicked gleam in his eyes should have been caution enough to Pol, but her mind was on Bastila and she barely noticed.
Pol sat limply on the edge of the bed and gestured to the laces on her kilometer long boots, "Be my guest," She sighed, frustration diminishing her Lady Anju act. Canderous knelt at her booted feet and began to thread the laces.
Pol admired his skillful square hands as the long straight fingers deftly wove the laces. He gave them a tug when he reached the top eyelet setting the strain; Anju rolled her ankle about and flexed her leg to sure up the fit. Satisfied it was fitted snugly Vlad tied off the laces and ran his hands along the boots checking for irregularities. He trawled his hands up her boot, not stopping when he reached the knee. Vlad ran his hands higher along the length of her skintight trousers appreciatively stroking her legs.
Pol made a dutiful, but insincere attempt to stop things before they got out of hand; she kicked out at Canderous and growled saucily in Mando'a, "Oh you're a bad one. Mind your place Vlad." She caught him in the chest with her boot; he took the rough blow in his stride and stared into her eyes.
After a moment, feeling that the balance of power had been restored somewhat, Canderous relinquished his grip on her thighs. "As you desire," he still held her fathomless gaze. With reluctance, he slid his palms down the inside of her black clad leg to the soles of her ebony boots. He gave them a last touch and stood back from his work, thoughtfully leaving room for the woman he craved to stand, ah stang.
"I have…" Pol got to her feet, feeling a little unsteady Mission's right, there is something steamy about a man in uniform… Her hands found her itinerary and she scanned the datapad, "I have to be in Yuthura's office at seven. What time is it?"
Uh oh, "Its quarter past five. I didn't think you would want to be late on your first day of work," the false excuse was worth significantly less than the real one, but it was all Anju had been given to react to.
"Vlad…" She cautioned with a scolding glare for the rippling, muscle bound Mandalorian. Pol realized how difficult it is to reprimand some one who overreaches you in height. He was just inches away and she was still dying for a kiss. She became aware of the twin internal voices she had been holding back. O'star sounded out first; oh for frack's sake, you think she'd never seen a man before. Just grill the son of a bitch; you need your beauty sleep we're not getting any younger!
Darth Revan, made her shiver as she addressed her directly I'll do it if you like. The tone was playful, less malicious than it had been, but Pol stifled it all the same. No no, its find I can handle him. She asserted primly.
"Yes Mistress?"
"If you ever wake me more than an hour before I need to be woken again, my next pair of boots will be out of your hide." Pol threatened him weakly.
Through means inscrutable by the Sith surveillance Canderous made it clear he wasn't buying it. "Yes Mistress," he intoned formally, bah you're alright.
………
Pol walked to the refresher, her mind was a chaos comparable to the nagging in her limbsthat came from missing his touch. Two voices vied for her attention one offering unsolicited advice on how to 'conquer' her smug Mandalorian and the other teasing her relentlessly about the licentiousness nature of the whole ordeal. The thing that surprised Pol about the two mildly varying opinions was that both held a weight of respect for Canderous and more importantly for her, despite their taunts.
That went well, O'star giggled inside Pol's head.
The dark lord snickered along, yeah Polly, you sure showed him. You know if you can get him at your feet again...
Pol silenced the rampaging voices; Oh shut up, and laughed at herself silently as she combed her hair out before the mirror.
Ebon Hawk
Mission Vao sat in the galley beside Dustil sweeping her finger about the inside of the empty bowl inquiringly. She licked the remains of her breakfast from her finger. Number nineteen seemed to be the least repulsive of the new food synthesizer recipes. Dustil was also enjoying it, he spoke through mouthfuls of his fifth serving, and Mission was amazed at how much the young man could put away.
"So, how did you end up getting rid of the gizka?" Dustil asked.
Mission gave a graphic description of the poisoning and the aftermath without concern for the new arrivals distended stomach. As she did Dustil wished wholeheartedly that he hadn't gorged himself quite so early in the day. Recipe number nineteen threatened to make an abstract comeback as he rose from his stool and staggered to the nearest sink.
"Oops sorry, I forgot just how umm messy the gizka purge was." Mission giggled into the back of her hand and tried to suppress her own intestinal protestation as Dustil dry reached over the sink.
When his unproductive heaving ceased he turned on her slowly still looking distinctively green and Mission was struck by how expressive certain human complexions could be. "You could have warned me," he frowned at her "or picked a better time to use those words in the same sentence."
Mission cringed, "Yeah, you ok Dustil? I didn't plan that well…"
Dustil gave a bloated sigh, "I'll be fine. Ugh I think it was the visual of them writhing in their own expulsions that did me in." He smirked bashfully and settled their bowls in the washer.