Carte Blanche

AN: This is my entry for Rian Sages competition. I think it turned out alright. There are bound to be A LOT of mistakes, and I will make time to edit those, and perhaps the chapter. This is also my first try at romance...

Disclaimer: I don't claim ownership of any of the characters Ho!Bastila and Ho!Atton are totally Lucas-Bio-siadian's creations.


Atton Rand examined the ticket in his hand. To millions of people across the Galaxy the ticket would have been a godsend, a ticket to freedom, but to Atton it was a symbol of painful rejection. It had only been three days since they crew of the Ebon Hawk had returned to Telos after their mission on Malachor V. In retrospect, he should have known that she would be leaving, but the Exile's departure late on the previous night, had taken him by surprise.

He'd awoken in the morning, to find her side of the bed already made with a short letter apologizing for not saying goodbye, a sack of credits, and a white ticket. The ticket was good for one month of travel to any destination serviced by the galaxy's leading commercial transportation company Galactrans. Since Galactrans' luxury starliners had destinations on most planets of the known galaxy, Atton had carte blanche to travel anywhere he wanted.

But Atton was not the type to pine for those who'd abandoned him. At least he told himself that. The mere thought that he might miss the Exile, Elara, after what she'd done was enough to boil his blood.

He'd avoided the others, just because they might make that insinuation, and he'd headed straight for the interstellar departures terminal on Citadel Station.

Atton looked at the departures. "Hmm, Nar Shadaa," he said to himself, seeing that the starliner would be departing in just a few minutes. "Smuggler's Moon, here I come."

He shoved the ticket into his pocket and lined up at the check-in for the flight to Nar Shadaa's Casino District. It was the hub of Nar Shadaa's gaming industry, a destination for tourists interested in every vice imaginable, and a massive source of income for the greedy Hutts. It was a good a place as any for him to go back to where he'd started.

"Will you be checking any baggage, sir?" a droid at the check-in counter asked.

"No, I'll keep it with me," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."

"Just a carry on," he said, hefting up a duffle bag with one arm.

"In that case, may I see your ticket," the droid requested.

Atton reached into his pocket and pulled out the ticket. It was covered in lint, which he attempted to brush off, to little avail. "Here you go."

If Atton hadn't known better, he would have sworn he'd seen a slight twinkle in the droid's optical receptor when it saw the ticket. She musta paid a whole lot for that. Screw her, if she thinks she can buy a clear conscience with a lousy ticket. "To Hell with all those Jedi," he said aloud.

"Most certainly," the droid fawned. "I have you seated in the executive class section, but if you'd like me to change it…"

"No, that's fine," he said taking the ticket, which now bore his seat number on it. He walked onto the starliner.

He passed a dozen rows of seats before noticing that he was on the wrong level. He took an elevator up to the executive section and found his rather well appointed seat. Lots of leg-room, was the first thought to cross his mind.

He tossed his bag into the compartment in front of him and slid into his seat. He was getting settled in the incredibly plush seat when a woman approached him. She was tall with dark hair and brown eyes. She was rather good-looking, Atton thought, and the skin-tight saffron jumpsuit she was wearing, well that was just icing on the cake.

"I believe that's my seat," she said, pointing to the chair just beyond Atton.

"Oh," he said nonchalantly, twisting in his seat to offer her enough room to get by him.

"Thank you," she said as she passed in front of him. Atton ascertained that she had a nice figure, and on any other occasion he would have struck up a conversation, but right now, the lingering thought of what Elara had done occupied all of his thoughts. It's selfish, I know, but she just abandoned me.

Atton closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them just a bit so that he could see the woman sitting next to him. She was looking at him, but she seemed to notice his eyes weren't entirely closed and she turned away. Atton leaned his chair back and fell asleep.


Atton awoke two hours later to the muffled sound of hyperspace travel. He pulled out a rather large deck of pazaak cards and started to play a game with himself.

It wasn't terribly interesting, but it kept his mind occupied. I've got seventeen, who needs a plus three! I'm feeling lucky. Hit. Five, son of a schutta! He banged his fist onto the small table in front of him—with more force than intended—sending all the cards onto the ground. Great! Just great.

As he leaned over to get to those cards closest to him, he noticed the woman sitting next to him had already picked up a few.

"Dealt a bad hand?" she asked, handing him the cards.

"Just a stupid move," he answered back, not really interested in a conversation.

The woman heisted for a moment then said, "I couldn't help but notice that you were playing pazaak. Would you mind if I joined in?"

"Be my guest," Atton said casually. "You got a deck?"

"No, actually this would be my first time," she said. "You wouldn't mind giving me a lesson would you?"

Where in the Galaxy is she from that she's never played pazaak? "Well," he hesitated momentarily, "alright, I'll teach you."

And Atton proceeded to explain the rules of the game while the woman listened studiously. When he'd finished Atton asked, "So do you think you're ready to handle me?"

"You don't stand a chance," she said playfully.

"Pretty tough talking coming from someone who's never touched a deck."

"We'll see, let's get started."

The woman received a five and Atton got a nine. She got a seven bringing her total to twelve; Atton decided to stop at eighteen after he got another nine. The woman took another hit and got a seven.

"Beginners luck," Atton dismissed, teasingly.

"Perhaps, but there's only one way to see if that's true," the woman smiled.

"How 'bout a wager, to make things interesting."

"You're on," she said.

They played a few more games, and it did, indeed, seem that the woman had had a bit of beginner's luck, because Atton won the vast majority of the games.

"So, why exactly are you headed to Nar Shadaa?" Atton asked, fully expecting to the usual 'don't ask questions' answer most people going to Nar Shadaa would give—'vacation'.

The woman thought about the question for a moment. "I've been listening to people tell me what to do for my entire life," she sighed. "I guess I'm going to Nar Shadaa, because I want to get away from it all."

The woman's answer was shockingly honest. Aha, spoiled Core Worlds heiress looking to get into a little trouble, Atton deduced. "I know what you mean."

"What's your name," the woman asked, a knowing look on her face.

"Atton, though I usually don't give it out to strangers," he said.

"What makes me so different," she inquired.

"Nothing, I guess I'm getting a little careless," he smirked. "What's you're name anyway?"

"Bastila, my name is Bastila actually."

"Jedi hero Bastila Shan?"

"Correct."

"I knew you looked familiar. So, that's why you're here. Elara sent you, right."

"No, Atton, Elara didn't send me, but if you'd bothered to listen to me you'd already have known that," Bastila snapped.

"Sorry, if I mistook your whining for something else," Atton retorted.

"I think Elara gave you more credit than was due," Bastila reproached. "She seemed to think that you would seek out the Jedi teachings on Coruscant."

"There aren't any Jedi on Coruscant," he countered.

"That is irrelevant, for there soon shall be," the truth of Bastila's words was evident. "You're not even bothering to hide your emotions. You're getting back at her."

"Okay sister, you're right," Atton admitted. "I'm angry at Elara for what she did to me. It's not that she left, it's that she left me without…So, now I'm going to do exactly the opposite of what she'd want me to do. Got a problem with that? Cause if you do—"

"No, Atton," she interrupted, "that's what I've been trying to say. I don't have a problem with you going to Nar Shadaa. We may have different reasons, but we've got the same destination."

"Just lookin' for a good time?" Atton said, contemplatively.

"That's right," she said smiling. "I want to live for myself for once."

"In that case, Nar Shadaa's the place to be."


The starliner landed at a terminal in the glittering Casino district. After debarking, Atton went outside to take Nar Shadaa's perpetual nighttime air. The smell of Nar Shadaa, an unmistakable mixture of exhaust fumes, garbage, and general rot, hung heavily in the air.

Home, he thought nostalgically. His best memories had been made here: great winnings on the pazaak table, wild nights in the red light district, finding redemption for his crimes, and he intended to make some more. Bastila's right, I've gotta live for myself now.

He didn't deign to answer the myriad of questions that came with that mental declaration.

He saw Bastila walk out of the terminal and onto the city streets. She looked down at a datapad, examined the unfamiliar surroundings, and firmly set to walking to her right. A few paces on she turned around and headed in the opposite direction.

"Where're you headed?" Atton asked, approaching Bastila from behind.

She turned around, slightly startled. "Oh, it's you," she said, relieved. "I've booked an apartment at the Smugglers' Spoils Casino. Do you have any idea where that is?"

"Yeah, I can show you," Atton answered, noting an illuminated arrow pointing to the Casino. "Need some help with that?"

Bastila was carry three very full bags. "You have my sincerest thanks," she said, handing him the fullest of the three.

"Force, what's in here!"

"Just the necessities," she said matter-of-factly.


Atton and Bastila found they're way to the Casino without incident, and after depositing Bastila's bags in her small apartment, they went to the main gambling hall.

"Shall we win some money?" Bastila suggested, wittily.

"You know there's more to this than cards and luck," he said, walking towards a pazaak table.

"Do you mean using the Force?" she wondered, wearily.

"Well, yeah, but—wait why did you say it like that?" Atton asked, changing ideas mid-sentence.

"Because, I don't think the Force," Bastila hesitated. "I don't know if we should use it like that."

"I thought you said that it was all about you now," Atton prodded.

"I suppose you're right. What's the harm in using ones assets to ones advantage?"

"Exactly," he said. "And those aren't the only assets you can use…" His eyes drifted to her bust.

A sly smile formed on her lips. "So be it," she said, loosening her top to reveal some cleavage.

"Perfect," Atton said, approvingly. "You see the key to winning big is to break the other players' concentration. Even the most experienced player—like myself—can make a stupid move if he's distracted. And that's when you and the girls come in…"

"So," Bastila said, mildly peeved, "tonight, I'm just a pretty face and a pair of breasts?"

"You could get drinks if you want," Atton joked. Bastila gave him a mock-contemptuous look. "But seriously, do you think we'd do very well, if you played while I showed off my chest?"

Bastila laughed at the thought of it. "So we split it fifty-fifty?"

"Well, since I'm doing most of the work, how about sixty-fourty."

"How many pazaak-smart cads are in this casino who would take my help on a game or two?"

"Fine, we'll split it evenly," Atton conceded.

"It's a deal."

They reached the table. The house's rules we're simple, a three-way winner-take-all competition in five rounds, with the house as a neutral observer, distributor of plus and minus cards, and collector of five percent of the winnings.

"What's the wager?" Atton asked, sizing up the competition, as Bastila waited nearby to play her part.

"Ten," an obese human to his left said, "per round."

"Oh, small time, I see," Atton said, knowing perfectly well they meant thousands of credits.

"Very funny, let's get started already," a Twi'lek on his left whined.

The match started off badly. The Twi'lek must have had someone on the inside, he got dealt a twenty-three but managed to win the round with a minus three card. Then it was the obese man's turn to win, resting safe at nineteen. So far, Atton had used only one of his four cards, a minus five to take him down to eighteen.

It was Bastila's arrival that brought his luck around. "Ooo," she said, walking around the table and looking at the cards. "It looks so interesting."

For a Jedi, she can sure do the bimbo routine pretty well, Atton thought. Nar Shadaa: anything, no, everything goes.

"Wow, you've already won a round!" she exclaimed in mock surprise as she looked that the Twi'lek.

"Thanks very much," he said, mesmerized as she ran her hands over his lekku. "I can—uh—show you—"

"Hit or stay?" the house droid asked.

"Huh—" he said completely distracted by Bastila, "Oh hit."

The fat man stayed at eighteen and the Twi'lek busted out, leaving Atton with an eighteen and a plus two card.

"Pure pazaak!"


With Bastila's help, Atton went on to win the following rounds. "Fifty-thousand credits!" Atton gushed, as they talked on a couch in Bastila's rather bare apartment.

"Don't forget the Casino's share. But still, well done Atton!"

"You know what?"

"What?" she said, taking a sip of a cocktail Atton had mixed up.

"This," he gestured with his glass, "taste's a lot better when you've just won a freighter-load of credits."

"Mmm, I most certainly agree," she smiled.

"So, I take it your enjoying 'living for yourself?"

"Very much so, and thank you for that Atton," Bastila said, leaning over and taking Atton in a semi-drunk embrace.

He didn't know quite how to react. She was moving awfully quickly and he didn't quite know what to do.

"I think I should probably get going," he cleared his throat, standing up.

"Oh, yes," Bastila seemed to snap back to sobriety. "Do you have a place to stay?"

"Uhm," Atton thought about it for a second. All of the people he knew were on the other side of the planet. "I'll find someplace."

"Alright," she said, following him to the door.

He stopped in the doorway. "So, I guess I'll see you around."

"Hopefully."

Atton left. Bastila closed the door and went to sleep.


Atton spent the next week reacquainting himself with everything Nar Shadese. It was just the same as he'd remembered it, but something kept nagging at the back of his head. He couldn't pinpoint the problem, but whatever it was, it wasn't allowing him to get the most out of the closest thing he had to a 'home'.

One evening after winning a few hundred credits and getting a little drunk, Atton managed to see Bastila Shan from afar. He stopped to watch her, she was talking to another man. Good, she's getting some action then. But why am I jealous?

It didn't take long for Atton to figure out what was really going on. The man she was talking to was a pickpocket, and his accomplice was lifting her wallet from her purse as she spoke with him. Atton had seen it done a thousand times—he'd even participated once or twice.

He drew his blaster from it's holster and came up to the criminals.

"Get outta here!" he said, aiming the weapon at the accomplice's face. "I don't want to fry your brains but I will."

The men ran. "Atton!" Bastila looked completely surprised.

"Oldest pickpocket trick there is," Atton said knowledgeably, as he holstered his blaster. "One distracts you and the other takes your money."

"Not unlike our own strategy on the pazaak table last week," Bastila commented.

"But we—" Atton began, defensively. "I guess you're right."

"What have you been up to?" Bastila asked, changing the subject.

"Not much actually… You?" he responded awkwardly.

"I've been, doing a little bit of decorating in my apartment."

"Oh yeah, what style?" Atton asked, not caring a thing about style.

"It's a cross between," Bastila stopped herself. "Why are we talking like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like we couldn't be saying anything better to each other."

"Do you wanna hit the casino again?" Atton asked, trying to hide his anxiousness.

"I was beginning to doubt whether you were really Force-sensitive."


Their winnings at the casino that night were even better than before. Bastila had refined her technique and Atton had polished some of his best moves, so that they managed to double their winnings from last time.

"I like what you've done with the place," Atton said entering Bastila's apartment. Piss-yellow walls? What was she thinking!

"You don't have to lie," she said.

"Of course I do."

"Why?"

"Because it's the polite thing to do," he answered.

"Not when I you don't hide your thoughts…"

"Would you prefer I did?"

"No," she said, "I'm just wondering why you haven't shielded me from anything."

Atton gulped. "I guess it's because, I dunno," he mumbled. "I trust you. I can sort of identify with you. Know what I mean Bastila?"

"Yes, Atton, I think I know exactly what you mean," she said, stepping closer to him. "When you take all the pretense away, the spoiled Jedi princess and the handsome redeemed rogue are not so dissimilar."

Atton placed a rough hand on her cheek as he closed the gap between the two of them. And when they're faces were so close that they could feel one another's warm breath he said, "You've got a hell of a way with words."

The kiss was every bit as passionate as they might have imagined. And the night that followed would be unforgettable for them both.


"So was I your first?" Atton asked, the next morning as they lay side-by-side in Bastila's bed.

"No, third actually," she sounded slightly outraged. "Was I that bad?"

"No!" he said, truthfully. "It's just I didn't think that you Jedi really got around that much. Like Elara…"

"Let's not talk about Elara," Bastila interrupted.

"Okay."

Bastila sat up in the bed and reached for a silk robe hanging nearby. She tied it on, got up and walked to the kitchen. Atton sat up also, but slumped back into bed a second later and fell back to sleep.

He woke again a few minutes later to the smell of hot caffa.

"Are you trying to get me to leave?" he asked groggily.

"No, I thought this was part of the ritual."

"It is," he said. "It's the part where you wake the person up enough so you can kick them out."

"You can stay as long as you want."

Atton took the mug and sat up. He sipped the caffa. "Not bad."

"Thanks."

"Wait you're dressed!" he said, finally awake enough to note that she was in full Jedi robes.

"How perceptive!" she joked. "I'm dressed because I'm leaving."

"You don't have to get me breakfast."

"I mean I'm leaving. Leaving Nar Shadaa."

"Huh? What—I mean why?"

"Because I've done what I wanted to do. I gambled and drank and had a little sex. I had a wonderful time. I lived for me. But that's not enough. I see now that I can't be happy just trying to please myself. I'm a Jedi, whether I like it or not."

Atton ran his hands through his thick brown hair, contemplating what she'd said. "So, last night, this whole time, I've just been a pazaak player and a…you know."

"It's not like that at all," Bastila clarified. "I've greatly loved you company, and given a few more weeks I think I'd fall in love with you. No, I would have fallen in love with you. But I can't abandon what I believe in. I can't stand-by while the Jedi Order teeters on oblivion."

"I-I understand."

She leaned over and kissed Atton gently on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispered. She got off the bed. "You can have the apartment, it's paid in full for another month, though I guess you might want to redecorate."

"Thanks."

Bastila moved to the door and picked up the same bags she'd came with. "By the way Atton, you were the best I've had. You know where to find me."

And the door shut behind her. Atton was dumbstruck. Bastila was a whole lot more than a beautiful rebound girl to him. I don't need another few weeks, I'm already falling for her.

But she had left just like Elara. No, this was different. He and Bastila were different. And more important still, Atton didn't care about getting back at Elara any more.

'You know where to find me."

What's that supposed to mean?

Coruscant, you idiot! Either that or Dantooine.

He got out of bed, and picked up his jacket. In the pocket was his white ticket. Carte blanche to go wherever he wanted and he wanted to go to her.