A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews! In this chapter I introduce some new characters and add more intrigue. The song snippet at the beginning of the story is 30 Minutes by TATU. I disagree with most of their songs, but 30 Minutes seems to fit this chapter and this story.
Disclaimer: I don't own SW.
Out of sight
Out of mind
Out of time
To decide
Do we run?
Should I hide?
For the rest
Of my life?
Chapter Four
Melita Ronswan glanced at the information on the town of Moenia. She knew very little about Naboo aside from the fact it had had a large part in the war against the Trade Federation and later in the Galactic Civil War. She had researched on Jar Jar Binks, had been too disgusted with his clumsiness and stupidity to further that research, and had decided to get down to business with drawing up information on Moenia.
The thing she should have been doing at the start.
"Would you like another cup of Corellian wine?" her etiquette droid asked with all politeness.
"No. Thank you, Esee," Ronswan said.
She needed to keep a clear head. She had already contacted the New Republic officials that the extremist group had managed to trail Norvar somehow. They had given her permission to disguise herself as a tourist to spend a weekend there.
They were also sending someone else down with her as backup.
Jonas Halburn. Crime investigator. He was notable for his ability to solve crimes most New Republic police would be baffled at.
He was a handsome man. Around thirty or forty. He had blue eyes, dark red hair, freckles, and he was very attractive. From the picture Melita had seen of him he had appeared trim and fit. From the record it said he had been a combat artist at an early age before becoming an investigator later on. From the picture it looked as though he still kept himself in top shape.
Ronswan had felt partially amused that they were supposed to pretend to be a newly weds.
She wondered currently how long it would take to track down the extremists.
A door chime broke through her line of thoughts and she put her datapad aside to answer it. She wasn't too surprised to see Halburn standing in the doorway, having planned beforehand for a meeting.
She was unsure how to react in his presence, but decided to be cheerful. A little bit cheeriness never hurt anyone.
"Hi!" she greeted, putting a smile on her face. She motioned a hand inside. "Come on in!"
"Knock it off! We were supposed to go to Moenia yesterday. We're seriously behind schedule so knock off the mask, alrighty?"
She removed the smile. Already she wasn't too impressed with the man. Hopefully the investigation would change her perspective.
"I'm glad they didn't send Skywalker or Han Solo. It seems they take too much upon themselves," she said, hoping to start a conversation going. If there was no slight attraction or chemistry between them they wouldn't be able to fool anyone. They'd appear as what they were-frauds.
"It does appear that way, doesn't it?" he agreed, seating himself on her couch. He turned to Esee who was standing silently in the room. "Get me something to drink," he ordered.
"Wait a minute!" Melita Ronswan broke in irritably. "You can't just"-
"Miss Ronswan, we're supposed to be a couple, right? What better time to pretend than at the start of this case?"
Ronswan pursed her lips. She still didn't like the idea of a stranger making himself so completely at home in her house and ordering her personal droid around. It didn't suit well with her.
"Yes. What better time?" she murmured, more to herself than to him.
She couldn't help but wonder still how they'd get along together.
Her first impression by far wasn't a very good one.
I-I-I-I-I-I
Cecia ran a hand through her hair as she tried to find the special formula. Surely she wasn't out! Surely after a few days she hadn't used it all up. But it seemed that was the case. There was no formula to be found.
She had searched everywhere in the house to find formula, and soon Sorvan would want to be fed. In thirty minutes it would be feeding time again.
At least she had been able to change his diaper. Thank providence she hadn't run out of that.
She looked over at him, watching him working with a rotating puzzle, her lips compressing together in a grim line. She hated leaving him alone. He wouldn't be entirely helpless, of course. There was still the nanny droid and the guards that would be watching out for him.
But it didn't alleviate the guilt and resentment flooding through her. She should have the right to carry her child to the store, have the right to see to his needs. She shouldn't have to be worried about someone taking potshots at him! She should be able to stay with him. Instead she was leaving him behind.
Cecia ordered the nanny droid to carry him down to Level B, the hidden underground level of the house, where Sorvan would be hopefully safe.
She tried to find a store through the HoloNet that sold formula. While it was best that Sorvan feed off of the specialized formula made by top New Republic scientists, the formula used mostly for Twi'lik children so far had shown no side effects.
Ah ha!
There it was on Rutwater Road. A shop for infant supplies and listed in the advertisement was Twi'lik dry formula. Good. She didn't want to spend too much time looking for stores that sold baby formula.
She pulled a dark green shawl around her head to obscure herself from view, taking time to put in colored contacts as well, then proceeded to board her speeder.
Once she was there she was glad to see that there was quite a nice sized crowd there. In small areas she was more vulnerable where someone could easily spot her. And hopefull, given the shawl and her now hazel green eyes, there would be even less of a chance of someone deciding to "bring her to justice".
The shop was brown, shaped like a giant crate, and its paint was chipping in areas. There was a line of windows along the surface perimeter, but that was the only windows in the shop. It was as unaesthetic in appearance as one could get. Next to the elaborately crafted homes and consignment shops it stuck out like a Hutt in a Bothan social club.
The interior of the shop proved to be no different. It made her wonder what was really drawing the people to the store. Low prices? But with the broken down shelves that had been sloppily repaired, the paint spills, smell of noxious chemicals, and dim lighting, she began to wonder if even low prices would be a draw.
She was busy looking around for a moment when a woman reached her side.
"Excuse me, Miss, but are you looking for anything?"
Cecia glanced down to see a middle aged woman staring up at her expectantly.
"Twi'lik infant formula," she said.
The woman raised a brow, her expression puzzled.
"One of my friends is a Twi'lik and she's having a baby and I thought I'd buy some dry formula for her," Cecia lied, hoping the woman would buy it.
The woman looked her over for a moment as though holding a sense of doubt over the words, and then called a Gungan worker over.
"Naseeb, show her to the section for infant care."
Naseeb said something in Gungan, the woman shrugged, and then turned over to Cecia.
"You-sa follow me-sa," he said in a high voice, leading her to the desired area.
It seemed to take no time at all, and Cecia was glad to see that she would be able to return soon to her home.
As she turned around to leave though, she couldn't help but listen in on the conversation one isle down.
Someone was talking in a quiet, cultivated voice. Dread and horror gripping her heart.
Her knees wobbled for a moment. Was it him? But he was dead…wasn't he?
Cecia felt for a moment as though she was going to faint. It was ridiculous, of course. There was little chance that Thrawn had survived Bilbringi or that he would be stalking her. He had far better things to do, right? It had to be someone that sounded just like him! But with her heart pounding madly against her chest, and with the voice potentially near, logic became distorted.
She could try protecting her son, try to live a normal life, but nothing seemed to bring those memories to a full halt.
"It will take approximately…days to accomplish…" the cultured voice continued. Calm. Deep. With a weight of authority behind it.
She couldn't concentrate on the words anymore, scrambling like mad to pay for the formula and get out of the shop. Whatever the man was talking about, she knew it wasn't entirely pleasant. It was most likely not about her, but at the same time it was best to leave the store as soon as possible.
Again she was grateful for the nice sized crowd as she made a dash toward the nearest clear cashier register.
She took a small glance backward to have her gaze meet a pair of bored black eyes. The owner of them was a moderately tall, compactly built man. His hair was black, modestly spiky, and he was wearing a black tank top with frayed edges, dark brown leather pants, and worn down boots. He had a small tatoo of a dragon on his upper left forearm, blue wings outstretched in flight.
He somehow made her think of a docile shark.
For a moment their gazes were locked and then the strange man faded off into the crowd. Strange.
She returned to the cash register.
"My, my—in a hurry are we?" the Bothan cashier stated.
"Yeah. I need to get home. Soon. Thanks."
She paid for the formula, grabbed the sack, and walked out the door with brisk steps.
She thought she heard the words, Have a nice day, behind her, but didn't stop or return the common phrase. She boarded her speeder with a type of agility that comes from fear of the unknown, of adrenaline charging through her veins.
Calm down. Calm down. Calm down!
Cecia chanted the words inside her head in rhythm with her wildly beating heart.
I hate this! Being afraid. Running. Hiding. I hate it all.
She whipped through the streets, careful not to go beyond the Moenia speed limit. She ended up at her house on the outskirts under the time frame of six minutes.
I-I-I-I-I-I
Melita Ronswan glanced over at her partner, having returned from checking the vegetable and food section of the rusty shop. Halburn was talking to someone. A short, squat, balding man with beady black eyes. He was well dressed and in one hand he carried a cigara. He appeared to be an important figure, but Ronswan couldn't recognize him.
"It will take approximately four to five days to accomplish," Halburn was saying to the man in a low voice.
Even with all the sounds around her from the surprisingly large crowd (what drew the sentients to this place? she wondered) she picked up the noise of someone from the opposite aisle scrambling away hurriedly. A few packets fell, but the person was too much in a hurry to pick them up.
She thought nothing of it.
A droid worker clanked past her, discarding old items and restocking the shelves. It, like most of the store seemed to be, was a rusted brown color and from the squeaking of the joints it appeared it hadn't had a good oil bath for months.
Ronswan waited patiently as the droid continued to work, then approached Halburn.
"Hey, love," she greeted, instantly trying to sound like a love dazed couple should.
They had recently come to Naboo and this store was their first stop. They needed to buy some home necessities while on the investigation. Also, it provided an opportunity to watch for the man she had met three days hence. The man whose name she still didn't have thanks entirely to her clumsiness.
"Hello, dearest!" he returned, his serious face splitting into a disarmingly charming smile. Had she been anyone else she would have felt heat rise to her cheeks. Instead she felt nothing.
The balding man gave her a quick smile, bowed, and promptly excused himself.
"What was that all about?" she whispered.
Halburn said nothing but lowered his head to kiss her. He had been doing that off and on during the trip for practice. His lips had a sharp, oddly metallic flavor to them, but she put aside her disgust and returned the kiss. What had he been doing or drinking? His scent was non-alcoholic, but had a slightly chemical smell.
"Nothing, sweetie. Absolutely nothing."
But there was something. Halburn was hiding something from her. Though he was a brilliant detective who had years of experience and awards behind him, it didn't disquiet her distrust or distaste for the man. She thought it would be better if she tried to track down the extremists alone. It had sounded all good and fine to have a partner, but that was before she had met Halburn in person.
He had been nothing but a pain in the rear end since they had met.
I-I-I-I-I-I
Minister of State, Leia Organa Solo, hadn't had a days rest from work for days on end. Rooting out extremists, trying to appease to all races at the same time.
She ran a hand through her hair. Her desk was littered with paperwork. The brown wood was peeking out slightly from the white edges. And it wasn't a small desk, either.
Sometimes Leia longed for the early days, when she was able to move around, fight alongside the Alliance. The days when her love for Han had blossomed and vice versa. She had had little time for her friends or for her husband. Since the death of Grand Admiral Thrawn things had become considerably busy with aliens of conquered planets flocking to the aid of the New Republic.
The devastation of some of those planets had been great, and it was no wonder there were bitter people out who hated Thrawn with enough passion to kill his illegitimate child.
Yet, at the same time, those attacks were very strange. Most people knew not to gather weapons from the same shop or else they would get caught by the authorities sooner or later. Also, wasn't it a bit extreme for them to go after the child of Thrawn and the victim of rape? Something was out of place in the whole thing.
Being followed by a Shinimi. The aggressors buying weapons from one shop. Constant attacks. Flaming debates.
There had been a considerable amount of debates within the senate over Cecia Norvar and Sorvan. Whether or not she was to be considered partaker in the crimes of the Empire or to be a rightful New Republic citizen, or whether or not her child deserved death for his father's crimes. There were some cultures that believed that the child of a criminal was punishable for his/her father's crimes.
But normally those cultures wouldn't go so far. Luke was the son of Darth Vader, yet no one was trying to kill him as far as Leia could see. Then again, he was a Jedi. Some might do otherwise if he didn't have Jedi powers. Not to mention, of course, the very fact that she was offspring of Vader, too.
The attacks went much deeper than mere bitterness or a grudge against Imperials or the deceased Grand Admiral. Someone was causing them for his/her own purpose? Another secret movement of government? The debates within the senate council chamber were always fiery when discussing the situation with Cecia Norvar. Of course, each meeting her current location was unmentioned. It would be precarious to let that information loose among the council members.
Something was going on. And hopefully she, the government, or the investigators she had sent to Naboo, would get to the bottom of it.
I-I-I-I-I-I
Drev Grenweld took another swig of his fizzbrew, eyes flicking to the patrons seated beside him. Loud, out of tune music was playing in the cantina. It was a dark place with lights that put everything in a hazy orange glow. Making it harder to see who was there. A hand instinctively trailed down to his blaster. Precaution was a necessity in his occupation.
He was a smuggler off Dentroot who had barely escaped a lifetime of prison for shipping illegal spice. Until he had discovered from his close associates that someone was paying a lot of money to have a certain woman terminated. He didn't really understand why, but more credits meant more food on the table, and the fact his sister coud have the medical attention she so desperately needed. The cancer was eating its way through her body. She needed a cure desperately. And at the moment Grenweld was unable to pay for that cure.
He had been in the middle of a spice run when he had met Grizrond. He still didn't know who Grizrond was or his species. All he knew was that this person had come in gold and burgundy Mandalorian armor and had offered him many credits for the termination of Norvar. After hearing about how much was being offered, he had been more than willing to set out to the task.
His sister would be saved. Everything would be all right.
Soon after the brief meeting with Grizrond, he had crossed paths with a Shinimi who, too, had been contacted by someone who had offered an immense amount of credits. The Shinimi had been ecstatic, informing Grenwold to meet him and his partner, Kuraha Yamanaka, to the Iron Keg at Moenia.
Drev Grenweld had agreed and that was why he was at the cantina. Though, he was also beginning to wonder if this was a trap. With the loud music, shadows, dim lighting, one would think this was a setup for a shoot out.
Enough. Nothing's going to happ—
"Excuse me, are you Drev Grenweld?" a rough voice said from behind him.
Grenweld turned around slowly to see a compact man standing behind him. A Shinimi was nowhere to be seen. So, this must not be his contact. Somehow, Grenweld felt a measure of relief. This guy wasn't someone to mess with. It was in those dark, almond shaped, eyes.
Grenweld choked back his forboding.
"Yes, I am," he said in as normal a voice as possible, trying to talk over the music.
The man smiled.
"Good! I am Kuraha Yamanaka."
Sith. Sith. Sith!
Yamanaka glanced around the cantina, arching a black brow. His handsome face split into a shark's grin. It was friendly, but at the same time Grenweld felt threatened by it. He was also confused as to whether it was genuine or not.
"Ah, this place is considerably noisy, hm? Let's go outside, shall we? I know of a much more quiet place," he said above the loud racket.
"Uh, I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Grenweld stated aloud, forehead beginning to perspire. He had a bad feeling about all this. A very bad feeling.
"Relax. You think I'm going to kill you?"
Yes. Yes I do. Either that or turn me into the authorities!
But Grenweld held his tongue. It would be unwise to say such in front of this man.
"All right. I'll go outside. I'm just paranoid."
He waited while Yamanaka paid for a strong Forvish ale before going outside with him. Grenweld wondered how the man was going to manage being sober after drinking the ale. It smelled very, very strong. Very concentrated. If the man would be drinking Forvish ale there was less of a chance to become blasted. The man would be drunk in no time. This made Grenweld feel much better.
Yamanaka led him into a shaded, quiet spot away from the cantina. It was a beautiful area with green, leafy trees, golden, blooming flowers, and the sounds of birds chirping everywhere.
When Grenweld had the money to have his sister cured of cancer he would take her to this area. It was so peaceful. The trees also offered a lot of cool shade. It would be a wonderful resort during the late spring to early summer. There were a few benches around, as well, making it more park-like.
"Hold this."
Yamanaka handed Grenweld the Forvish ale while he set the benches up so that they would be much closer to each other. Grenweld seriously thought it would look like they were homosexual lovers, but chose not to say anything. Let the man rearrange the benches. It wasn't going to hurt anyone.
"Thanks."
Yamanaka took back the ale and seated himself in the shade.
"It's so bright," he commented, eyes squinting even in the shade.
"And you didn't figure that out when you came outside?" Grenweld asked, feeling slightly embarrassed for his fears. This man was harmless. "Anyway, what is this meeting about? I'd like to get this over with."
"I assure you, this will all be over soon. I just have a few questions."
Grenweld expected that the very next thing the man would ask was, "What is your business in seeking out the termination of Cecia Norvar?" but instead it was, "Who are you working under?"
"Well, I had a job offered from a mysterious man named Grizrond"—he stopped when he saw the black eyes of Kuraha Yamanaka widen—"but I'm not actually working under him."
Yamanaka was very silent for a moment, then asked in a low voice, "What are your motives?"
Ah, so this guy was for the New Republic. An investigator no less.
"Look, if you think you're going to make me feel guilt about hunting down Norvar you had better go back to your home base in the New Republic," he said, a mix of anger and desperation in his words.
"I'm not with the New Republic. And I'm not an investigator. However, I am very curious to hear your motives. If you do not"—
"Fine. My motives are to find a cure for my sister. She's dying with cancer. Happy now?" he demanded, cutting off Yamanaka's words.
Yamanaka took a long sip of the ale.
"Your answer is very satisfactory, yes. However, I could pay you double the amount Grizrond had offered."
"And what is my job?" Grenweld asked warily. The money looked good, but at the same time he was wondering about what the man would have him do.
"It's very simple. All you have to do is send in the names of the smugglers and bounty hunters who are tracking down Cecia Norvar and m—her son. I will then deal with them later. I warn you, if you decide to betray me to Grizrond I will see to your extermination. Any foolish moves and your life will be equally forfeit. Do you want to take the job?"
Grenweld felt the blood leave his face. But, even while the words struck fear in his heart, he desperately needed that money.
"All right. I'll take it."
He was stepping in dangerous territory. But his she was worth it all.
Lilia Browel.
His sister.
To Be Continued...