Chapter 33 - Ante In

[AN: I cannot say "thank you" enough to Nerica and laloga for their unfailing support as I struggled through figuring out what to do with poor Bowdaar! Thanks also to those who've taken the time to review - moodybloom and cat and Mialie Belladoni and BuriedBeneath and Laryn... your support and encouragement takes a lot of the drudgery out of writing when I really just don't feel like it, hahaha!]

It was interesting; Bowdaar's presence behind her was warm and comforting, but Vacy realized that she felt more on-edge than she did when she rode with Corso. Is it just that I'm used to him? Have I been taking him for granted?

The wookiee stepped off the speeder and rumbled as he stretched. "I do not mean to complain, Captain, but I hope you will understand if I express some reluctance to take another long journey with you on this contraption."

Vacy smiled wryly up at him and nodded. "Yeah... it was right useful when we got it, but it is a bit cramped, isn't it? I figure we probably ought to go ahead and get a proper speeder, something all four of us can fit in. Dunno if we can get anything really nice, but the reward from taking out that slave caravan might just be enough to get something serviceable."

At that, Bowdaar frowned. "Please do not trouble yourself on my account. It is thoroughly acceptable."

Shaking her head, Vacy reached up and patted his arm. "Nothing of the sort. The idea makes sense, and it's something I've been putting off for awhile. This old thing is really only meant for one. I guess... sometimes I still have in my mind that I'm on my own, that we'll catch up with Skavak in another day or two, and..." She shrugged, her smile faintly sad. "And that'll be it."

Bowdaar tilted his head and regarded her silently for a few moments, and then rumbled a sigh. "Do you really think that our goals are the only reason we stay with you, Small One? It is not personal gain that keeps us by your side - not even the Princess, for all she pretends to care only about herself." He chuffed, reaching down to tug on her ponytail. "It is you we believe in, not the job. Speaking of which, don't we have one to do?"

It couldn't be helped; she stepped close and wrapped her arms around his waist for a brief, tight hug. "You bet," she said when she let go a moment later. "C'mon, let's see what Fauler has to say."

The personal transport that Agent Fauler had assigned to them, once Vacy had explained their predicament, had been painstakingly crafted to give the appearance of a rusty clunker. Its standard traveling speed was somewhere between 'slow' and 'might as well walk' and the engines had a noticeable sputter.

But the tripmeter reset button could be pulled out as well as pushed in, and doing so would engage the turbodrive. Vacy hadn't been entirely sure which button was the tripmeter reset (Fauler had leaned into the vehicle to point it out, but when he bent over she found herself a bit distracted) but once she was a few dunes north of Anchorhead she gave it her best guess. She immediately found herself zipping along at a pace that made her glad she'd followed his suggestion to put on a pair of goggles.

I am definitely going to have to get myself one of these, Vacy promised herself as she maneuvered it through the gates of Mos Orenth and down a side street where she saw a lot with an attendant. The Czerka facility was about half a klick away, which even in the relentless heat wouldn't be too awful a walk. She grinned as she paid for her spot, then sidled in and cut the power. Who knows, maybe I can sweet-talk Fauler into letting me have this one. Bet it'd be fun to convince him...

There was a brief stab of guilt, but she pushed it away. There wasn't anything to feel guilty about anyway, she reminded herself. She was a grown woman, and if she wanted to have a bit of fun, there wasn't any reason not to. And now that Corso seemed to be – well – enjoying himself, apparently, she wouldn't even have to worry about being his silly little crush anymore. Things are just as they should be. She opened the door and stepped out, closing it perhaps a bit more firmly than she'd intended.

She walked around the vehicle and popped the hatch to the cargo well. Sympathy, frustration and pride roiled within her as she fought the urge to help Bowdaar pry himself out of the cramped space. "C'mon, you useless pile of hair!" she hollered instead, making sure to scowl. "Git outta there!" Briefly, she wondered if she should've said 'thar', but it had seemed a bit over the top.

"Go to hell!" roared Bowdaar, fiercely enough that Vacy took a step back before she remembered their cover.

She reached into the Darmas-bag, rummaged around a bit, then pulled out the controller with a flourish. "Oh yeah? You want a shock, you dumb rug? That what you want?"

Grinning viciously, she placed her thumb on the button, and from inside the storage well came a furious cry of anger - and pain. It was incredibly difficult not to start babbling apologies for what she'd done, even though she'd only pretended to use the controller. Even though Fauler had opened the device and shown her that the circuitry had been completely rewired. Even though he'd actually put it and the shackles on himself and demonstrated the device's new purpose.

But Vacy reminded herself that first of all, Bowdaar had agreed to this, and second, Mos Orenth was not a particularly open-minded little town, even among Imperial settlements. The patrolling guards were likely to be less of a problem than the xenophobic civilians, who all seemed to be carrying way more weaponry than was really necessary on a small outpost.

She led the wookiee through the town toward Czerka's research department, with the occasional curse or shove, to show she was frustrated with having to put up with such a stubborn creature. Pushing through the tall transparisteel doors, she took a moment to revel in the delightfully cool filtered air before heading across the room to the reception desk.

The young woman at the desk was busily tapping away at her datapad, but as they approached, she looked up. Her already-pale face blanched even further, but to her credit, she didn't cower – if anything, she sat even straighter. "Excuse me. Mahm?" Her smile was thin and pinched. "You can't bring… that… in here. You'll have to take it outside." Her lip curled slightly when she glanced at the wookiee.

Vacy propped her elbow on the desk and leaned toward the woman, earning a disapproving frown. "Well it was 'posta be pict up last night, but th'dam traders dint show." She hurked, then moved her tongue around in her mouth like she had a particularly juicy chaw and looked around as though searching for a spittoon. "Ast around an' I heard yuns was lookin' fer test subjicks. Now I kin tell ya sure that thisn's real dur'ble. More'n I kin handle on my own, that's certain. But I figger yer liable t'be better 'quipped t'deal with it."

The receptionist – her nametag said TORA VERITINNAS, ADMINISTRATIVE SALUTATIONS SPECIALIST LEVEL IV – was looking more and more ill as Vacy continued to slurp away at her imaginary chaw. She cleared her throat, as though it might help. "I'll just – I'll – I'll get the Director."

With a broad grin, Vacy winked at the woman. "You do that, hunny."

Ms Veritinnas pulled out a commlink and swiveled around, speaking quietly. A few moments later, she turned back to face the two guests, a bright, I'm-being-welcoming smile pasted on. "The Director will see you shortly." She placed a tray up on the desk and slid it toward Vacy. "I'll have to ask you to place any weaponry or other objects classified as harmful or hazardous under Imperial Edict 85B in here, mahm. They will be placed in a secure locker and you may retrieve them upon departure." She set her datapad next to the tray. "Sign here..."

Ahh, bureaucracy. How I hate it, Vacy mused. Trying to stay in her assumed character, she peered at the young woman. "I ain't keen on jist handin' over m'guns, sweet cheeks. How kin I be sure you'll give 'em back?" She pulled Flashy out, waving him at the ceiling somewhat idly. "You know what this here pistol's worth, girlie?"

The smile stayed firmly locked in place. "Mahm, I can assure you, we at Czerka have the highest standards of integrity. If you'd like, you can provide a description of the items surrendered in the box below your signature. This is a legally binding document according to Imperial Protocol JT-7, and if your belongings are not returned to you upon departure, you may seek redress through the appropriate legal channels."

Vacy schlorped at her nonexistent chaw again. "Welp. Ah s'pose that'll hafter do." She peered down at the datapad, then picked up the stylus next to it, glared briefly at the receptionist and then transferred Flashy to her offhand and ever-so-carefully printed A-R-D-A in the signature space. "Thar y'go. That's my mark, there." She looked at Flashy one last time before setting him down in the tray. With a sigh, she pulled out Kablam as well and set him on the desktop. "Sorry. Uhm. How big didja say them lockers was? Oh!" Her eyes widened. "Most fergot." Smirking, she reached down the front of her trousers and pulled out a modestly-sized vibrodagger. "That's fer special occasions," she said with a wink.

For once, Tora Veritinnas, A.S.S. Level IV, was left completely speechless.