Savior Self

Taris part seventeen..

Rated PG13

Disclaimer: OMG GEORGE LUCAS I LUV U OMGOMGOMG!1111eleventy!11

Savior Self

Davik gave them quite the tour. The day wore on into nothing and finally he allowed them to retire. He didn't even question Mission's presence – apparently a Twi'lek was automatically passed a slave here. Disgusting. The place was huge; there were so many things to see, to touch, to do… entertainment centers, meeting rooms, enormous kitchens with life-size homes built out of actual pastries, hunting rooms with stuffed creatures posed in their natural environment like they should be shot again, game rooms with live animals for Davik to hunt down in his spare time, swoop rooms, sleeping rooms, stim rooms… whore rooms…

The place was too grand to be comforting.

Cortessa shrugged on her battle jacket, glancing at her companions, who stood in stony silence behind her. "Let's go," he said.

"Not tonight," Canderous replied shortly.

She frowned, wrinkling her nose. "Why not?"

He smiled at her. "It's too late now. You look dead on your feet. Get some sleep."

"I don't trust you while I'm asleep," she told him stoutly, folding her arms and putting her weight on one leg.

Canderous burst out laughing. Mission stepped away from him, afraid of being knocked over by his heaving chest muscles. The man shook his head. "You're something, kid," he said. "I'm not going to touch you. I have better things to do."

"Slave quarters," Mission chimed in not-so-helpfully.

Cortessa grinned at her warmly. "Okay, fine. But Mission's staying with me."

Canderous shrugged. "Whatever blows with you," he muttered, and left.

Mission hugged Cortessa and curled up into her bunk, letting her headtails dangle down to the floor. Cortessa smiled at her for a moment before she, too, curled up in her bed, and dozed off.

------

Author's Notes: Sorry. Short chapter.

HAHAHAA! GOT YOU! Okay. Sorry. Continuing now. XDD

------

The next morning broke slowly, drawing Mission gradually from her sleep for an hour span, and when she woke she felt heavy and drugged. She lay there limply, staring at the blue-and-white ceiling, her toes brushing the floor. Cortessa snoozed nearby, her chest rising and falling evenly, and Canderous stood at the window, gazing out at the passing air speeders in silent consideration.

"What's up?" Mission mumbled sleepily, pushing herself up and rubbing her eyes.

Canderous glanced back at her, his eyes hard, his mouth a flat, unexpressive line.

Mission stretched, yawning, and ran her hands over her skull, back and over her headtails. She massaged her temples and searched for her vest.

Finally, he decided to answer her. "Today we're breaking out of here," he murmured. "It's cold. And quiet. Something's not right. It's like a storm's heading, but there isn't a cloud in the sky." He sighed. "We need to leave soon."

She nodded slowly, feeling a sudden pang of anxiousness in her stomach. Dread. Fear. She felt her hands began to tremble and she gripped her clothing to avoid dropping it.

"Hey, don't be scared," the Mandalorian chuckled. "We'll be fine while we have your friend with us. She's got something about her. She won't let us down."

Mission glanced at Cortessa. The woman really was extraordinary. She had the skill of an expert fighter and enough wit to pass around. She knew how to handle things. It was comforting to have her there.

Cortessa stirred then and let out a faint moan. She heaved a sigh and opened her eyes, letting the room come into focus before she sat up. She pulled on her vest and boots quickly and nodded to them. "Okay," she said. "Let's get going."

Mission blinked. "Already?"

Cortessa shrugged. "No sense sticking around," she said simply.

Canderous smiled and tossed her a cup. "Caffa dispenser near the door. Put something in your stomach or you'll never make it."

Nodding gratefully, Cortessa filled up her cup and took a long drink, closing her eyes. The warmth seemed to make her feel fuller somehow, and she voiced her thanks. Canderous shrugged. Mission complained about the taste of caffa.

They stepped into the hall and immediately, against all prior warnings, Cortessa opened the door to the room the next door over. The sight that greeted them was a grotesque one – a Twi'lek slave lay on the bed in a state of undress, and her leg was being fondled by a sharp-faced man with a hard look in his eyes. They both started at the interruption and the slave flopped off of the bed, landing with a thunk on the ground, where she lay still, gaping at the group at the door.

"HEY!" the man shouted, his face turning red. "What's idea, barging in here! Get out of here or I'll call the guards!"

The Twi'lek paused in the process of collecting her clothes. Her eyes widened. "The guards?" she gasped, tensing. Her headtails turned pale. "Slaves aren't allowed out of the slave quarters! I can't let them see me here!" She jumped to her feet, pulling her clothes to her chest, and ran, her bare feet making no noise on the ground as she turned the corner and vanished.

The man swore angrily, pushing his hair out of his eyes before he looked back to Cortessa, scowling. "Okay, great. You just scared off my date for the night, so you better explain yourself before I lose my temper and call the guards!"

Cortessa shook her head and drew her vibroblades. "You sure you want to do that, honey?" she said, licking her lips as if she could taste his blood already. She slowly twirled her vibroblade, allowing the light to catch its glinting reflection.

The man quailed. He sank to his knees, shocked. "No," he gasped. "Just go. I don't want any trouble with you."

She smirked and stepped up to him. She lifted a leg and pressed her heel to the small of his back, pushing him down to the floor. He lay there obediently and she stepped over him to root through his footlocker. When she finished, she knelt down in front of him, and his face was clammy and sweaty. She tapped his cheek.

"You're a smart boy," she murmured.

He trembled.

Slowly, she stood and left him there. Canderous gazed at her approvingly. "You have taste," he told her. "You're excellent."

She smirked at him, pulling a string on her vest. "It takes natural talent," she replied.

Mission shifted uneasily. "Can we get moving?" she muttered.

Cortessa shrugged. "We need some information. Most of these people are brainless. I had thought maybe one of Davik's esteemed guests might help us, but you see how that turned out." She thought about it for a moment and wondered aloud. "Maybe the slaves can help us… but I doubt they'll talk to me or Canderous. Mission… maybe you can…"

Mission gawked. "You want me to dress up as a slave?" she cried. Her headtails turned hot. "No way! I'm not going to pretend to be some skank just so you get your information! What do you think I am? A harlot?"

Carth snorted. "Yes, you're most definitely a strumpet."

Cortessa rolled her eyes. "No need to take it personally," she said. "You won't be a real slave. It's just an act. Don't tell me you can't act."

Mission couldn't resist an obvious jibe to her abilities. "Oh yeah, sister?" she growled. "Give me something kinky and I'll be a slave in five."

------

Mission felt nearly naked in her underwear (which had been craftily edited by Canderous himself). The air gently brushed against her skin as she strode barefoot down the corridor, shifting uncomfortably in her confining clothing. The slave quarters rose up ahead, a closed door that was left un-shined and unkempt. Slowly, reluctantly, she reached out and pushed it open, revealing the lovely room beyond.

Fountains splashed loudly by the wall, filling the salt baths, and a series of beds lined the wall. There were two doors to the far left, hidden behind two large, potted trees, and three massage tables sat in the middle of it all. Five slave women sat around, chatting and dragging on cigarras, and they glanced up with interest as Mission entered.

"Ah," said the first – a yellow Twi'lek with a soft, velvety face. She ran a hand over her milky white headtail, pursing her lips with consideration. "A new one."

A second Twi'lek leaned forward, pressing her palm to her green ankle. Her face was sharp and clever, wolfish and sly, and her eyes burned with some strange, wry amusement. "Oh, she's just a little sprout," she said, and her teeth clicked between her words.

The third slave was a human woman in the very peak of her life, just tasting the fruits of maturity. Her blond hair spilled down her pale shoulders and she gasped, fluttering slim fingers at her cheeks. "How horrible! You poor young thing!" She reached out a hand to Mission, but the first slave slapped her wrist.

"Shush, you. We can't shelter her."

The third slave bit her lip and looked away.

The fourth slave, another yellow Twi'lek, shot Mission a blunt look. "Well, we'll start by giving you the rules. First, cigarras are hard to come by. We don't hand them out to guests." She pointed a carefully-manicured finger in her direction. "You're young, so we'll take the guys asking for too much. But we won't protect you for long. Once a guy gets your headtail we're not keeping him from you. Got it?"

The final slave, yet another Twi'lek whose skin was a fresh pink, shook her head and reached out a beseeching hand to Mission. "Don't listen to her. She's at her time."

"Shut up, you!" she hissed.

Mission frowned. "What does she mean, get my headtail?"

They stared at her. "What?" said the human slave. She leaned forward to study Mission uncertainly, frowning. "You mean you don't know?"

"What do you think they enslaved you for?" scoffed the green Twi'lek. "To serve food?"

They all had a laugh at that one.

Mission shifted uneasily. She felt her throat catch with her nervousness.

"Oh, don't be scared," crooned the human slave, and stood to wrap Mission up in her arms. "We'll watch after you, our little chicklette. We promise."

"You promise," the green Twi'lek murmured, pressing her cigarra to her lips and leaning against the wall.

"Lock the door, will you, new sweet?" crooned the first slave.

Mission obediently locked the door, and looked around anxiously. "So… uh… could you tell me some about this place?" she stammered at last, turning her gaze to the human, who seemed to be the most sympathetic.

The human nodded. "Oh, sure. What do you want to know, sweet?"

Mission bit her lip. "What about the Ebon Hawk?"

"Ooooh," the women said in unison, looking at each other uncertainly.

"We can't say anything about that," hissed the green Twi'lek. "We're just slaves. If Davik knew that we had anything on it he'd kill us!"

Mission frowned. "I'm not going anywhere," she pointed out. "Why not?"

The slaves looked at each other for a moment, shifting uneasily, and finally the first nodded. "Very well," she said. She leaned forward and gazed earnestly into Mission's eyes. "You can't tell a soul. Not even a client, you understand?"

"I get it," Mission said, nodding.

"Good." The Twi'lek sucked on her cigarra. After she had had a good pull, she nodded. "Okay. The Ebon Hawk is so fast, Davik's sure he could break the quarantine with it."

"But it's grounded until he gets the launch codes, or the quarantine ends," said the pink Twi'lek. She shook her head. "That's not going to happen any time soon, but he's working on it."

"And even if he did get the codes, the pilot's under restraint in the torture chamber," said the human. "The poor man. He was smuggling spices into his secret cache. That was it. Davik beat him and slapped him in the chambers." She bit her lip and a tear rolled down her cheek. "He's probably gonna die there, for what he did. He doesn't deserve it!"

The second yellow Twi'lek slapped her without restraint. "You lovesick slut!" she barked. "Who cares if he dies? One less Hutt-slime to worry about."

The blond woman dissolved in tears.

The green Twi'lek shook her head and heaved a sigh.

The first slave shrugged. "I suppose he's the only one besides Davik that knows the codes to get to the hangar bay," she said. "It's been locked down tight – Lea tried to get in a while ago, and… well… she's… s-she's not here now."

The slaves sighed and simultaneously dragged their cigarras.

Mission sighed. "Where's the bathroom?" she asked.

They pointed out the door. "Down the hall," said the pink Twi'lek. "To the left."

Mission nodded, and slipped out of sight. Instead of going the bathroom, however, she crept stealthily back to Cortessa's room. As the door shut behind her, she grinned at her friend and nodded. "I got 'em," she growled.

"Good," snapped Canderous. "Now let's get out of here."

------

Author's Notes: I had fun with the slaves. Hahaha. This chapter actually was short. Next one will make up for it. I assure you. Sorry it took so long, though.

SilverSentinal21 – Ah, it's alright. No hard feelings. It was vulgar; I agree.

FaintlyAlarming – Thanks. Sometimes it's fun just to throw in some random improv. :D

Amme Moto – Thanks. I had fun.

Dante-Revan – You're predicting right. –winkwinknudgenudge-

Vila Skye – Lots o' huggles!

Child-of-the-Dawn – I've written more. My next update will be sooner, but right now I'm on the verge of making another chaptered fanfiction, so that'll be fun fun fun.

Queenofinsanity – Here's moremoremoremoremore.