I. NO QUARTER

She was back…

Releasing a weary sigh, the smuggler refrained from meeting the woman's gaze when she slid into the empty seat beside his and began to flirt with the cantinas scruffy bartender. Instead, he tried his damnedest to ignore the pair and avoid drawing attention to himself while he quietly nursed a mug of Corellian ale.

He had ordered the frothy beverage almost an hour earlier, but had scarcely touched it. Truth be told, he had never been particularly fond of tavern crowds, or even drinking, for that matter. He had only his boredom to blame for venturing out this night. It had been a long journey to Coruscant, and he had found himself alone and needing to burn off some steam after delivering his most recent shipment. The haul had been large. As a result, the job had proven very lucrative for he and his crew of misfits.

A distinct squeak. The sound of an old, worn–out stool turning.

Just as he had anticipated, it wasn't long before the voluptuous woman swiveled on her seat and turned to him with a seductive smirk.

Not again. Take the hint, lady.

"You know, I'm awfully parched," she spoke up in a low, sultry voice once the barkeep had moved away to serve a rather impatient Duros customer. "Would you care to buy me a drink, sweetheart? You won't regret it. I can be very, very grateful."

"Sorry, not interested…" he retorted, shortly.

"You sure, honey? Do you really want to pass up what could be the most pleasurable experience of your life?" the woman purred as she leaned forward and trailed her fingers across his leg. He tensed when she raised a brow and gave a throaty laugh; her outstretched hand drifting closer to his inner thigh. "Tell you what… you're young, handsome. How about I cut my going rate in half just this once, hmm? Play your cards right, and I'll show you a night you'll never forget."

The woman yelped in surprise when her hand was suddenly wrenched away. Seizing her by the wrist, a familiar lavender–haired Pantoran roughly shoved her aside before taking hold of the smuggler's arm and pulling him to his feet.

Tavora.

"Back off, if you want to keep that hand," his second–in–command spat. Yanking him after her, she paid the fuming courtesan no mind as she hastily pushed her way through the mob of boisterous patrons and started toward the nearest exit. "Sorry to interrupt your little date, but we have a problem."

"What are you doing?" he asked, glancing over at the bartender when he angrily shouted out after them. "I haven't covered my tab."

"Believe me, that's the least of our worries," Tavora replied.

That tone. It was recognizable, not to be taken lightly. Panic.

"What's going on?" he questioned.

"No time to explain," was her curt response. "We have to find Diggs and get back to the ship."

Diggs. He, at least, would be easy enough to track down.

"This was stupid," Tavora declared, swiftly making her way through the littered streets of Coruscant's squalid, decaying underworld. "What were we thinking? We never should have come here. We may be rich, but what good is making all that money if you die before you get a chance to spend it?"

"Always the pessimist," her captain remarked. "We've survived worse, or have you forgotten? Take our situation on Felucia, for instance…"

Tavora shot her fellow smuggler a sideways glance. Weaving in and out of the sea of pedestrians lining the duracrete streets, she kept her voice hushed as not to be overheard by uninvited ears.

"On Felucia, all we had to worry about was a gang of blundering pirates," she retorted, never slowing her pace. "This is different, and you know it."

A lopsided grin. He could be so damned sure of himself sometimes…

"You're impossible," she added, shaking her head in exasperation while they continued on their way. "How can you be smiling at a time like this? I just told you that Imperial soldiers are sweeping Coruscant's lower levels for known fugitives, and you're acting like it's some big joke. It's a wonder you haven't gotten us killed already with the risks you take."

"The bigger the risk, the bigger the profit," he replied. "I didn't hear you complaining when I handed over your share."

"If I had any sense at all, I would have demanded double what you're paying me," Tavora grumbled. "If only I had known what I was getting myself into when I first signed on to work with you."

The ranting Pantoran followed suit and halted mid–stride when her captain suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. "What is it? Why are we stopping?"

Following his gaze, it didn't take her long to spot what had caught his attention.

White armor. Stormtroopers. Only three, but that was enough.

The trio of Imperial troopers stood before a visibly shaken Nikto while they inspected his identification card. After a moment, they returned the card and he hastily resumed his previous course.

"This way," Tavora spoke up, turning to start in the opposite direction.

She froze when she spotted yet another group of troopers approaching from behind. The soldiers weren't heading directly toward them, but would undoubtedly notice their presence once they drew nearer. That was, assuming that they had indeed, somehow landed themselves among those targeted by the Empire.

Finding that they were fast running out of options, she had no alternative but to act as the troopers rapidly closed the distance. They had to blend in.

I'll never hear the end of this.

Without warning, she grabbed her captain and pushed him up against the nearest wall. "Just play along…"

He had no time to react as she wrapped her slender arms around his neck, and captured his lips in her own. At first, the contact was forced and awkward. However, she soon found herself sinking into the warmth of his embrace as their bodies tentatively pressed together, and his own arms slowly encircled her waist. It was strange, yet at the same time oddly exhilarating; not that she would ever admit it aloud.

Softer, gentler than expected.

The kiss deepened, while the troopers were momentarily forgotten. When their lips finally parted, the movement was clumsy and abrupt. She wouldn't have him thinking that she had actually enjoyed it. Admittedly, the kiss had probably lasted longer than necessary. By the time she had withdrawn from his hold on her, which he had reluctantly allowed, the unsuspecting stormtroopers had already gone about their business and disappeared amid the endless stream of moving civilians. Luckily, the pair of smugglers had remained inconspicuous enough to avoid detection.

Still slightly out of breath, Tavora peered up to see a face that she knew must have matched her own.

That look. There was surprise, but also… yearning?

She uncomfortably cleared her throat before breaking the growing silence. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Maybe we should get hunted down by the Empire more often," came the inevitable reply. "It has its perks…"

"Not another word, or I'll make you wish the Empire had you bound and gagged," she retorted, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Now, let's go."

Taking one last survey of their surroundings, and finding that there were no longer any scouts in their immediate vicinity, she quickly drifted into the crowd to lead the way to their destination. Peering straight ahead, she did her best to suppress the smirk that was tugging at the corners of her mouth.

3 Days Later…

Alone. Unarmed. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

Unable to sit still, Ryder Jinn paced the cramped holding cell that he had been taken to shortly after regaining consciousness. He had initially found himself lying in a small, stark white room in a plain beige tunic. How he had arrived there, or whom exactly had dressed him, he wasn't sure.

The room had contained only a single bed, but it had been far more desirable than his current location. Now, locked within what appeared to be a chamber meant for performing interrogations, he had only a durasteel table and two matching chairs on either side of it to choose from. Having been escorted at gunpoint by numerous men clad in unfamiliar uniforms, it had now been several hours since he had last seen a living soul.

Those uniforms. Perhaps those of Imperial interrogators?

The last thing he could remember was Kashyyyk. He had plummeted to, what he had thought at the time, would be his death. After that, everything was a blank. He had later awoken in the strange tunic with his torso wrapped tightly in bandages, and feeling as if he had been trampled by a stampede of banthas. He couldn't fathom why the Empire would see to his medical needs, but they had clearly given him the attention he required.

A sound… at the door.

Squaring his shoulders, Ryder winced and gritted his teeth as his aching side protested the movement. The door to his cell slid open an instant later.

This is it. The moment of truth.

To say the least, he wasn't expecting the sight that he saw next. A man hesitantly entered, followed by a cloaked figure. The lighting was dim and he couldn't quite make out a visage beneath its hood, but he could discern by its height and slim physique that the second visitor was more than likely a woman.

"Sit down," the man was the first to speak. "We need to talk…"

Author's Note:

One chapter down, nine more (give or take) to go! Again, a few OC's belong to me, but the rest belongs to… well, I think we all know by now.

Since this particular story is a mystery, I can't reveal too much information too soon. Hopefully, some of you will be patient enough to follow along. I also hope everything will make as much sense in writing as it does in my head. As always, reviews are welcome and much appreciated!

~ThoseWereTheDays