The Chandelier Fulfillment

Upper City, Taris, Outer Rim Territories

Ro leaned on the prettily carved balustrade, looking down into the ballroom. The many loops of her earrings brushed against her cheeks and she gently twirled the long-stemmed glass of Daruvvian champagne in her hand, so as not to give in to the impulse of brushing the earrings back. Doing so would likely dislodge strands of her carefully arranged hair and expose the earbud comlink she wore.

Below, the party was in full swing and Ro watched a dozen couples pirouette in a graceful rendition of the Alderaanian waltz. To either side of the dance floor, crowds were gathered to either watch the dancers or talk amongst themselves, while waiters in dark uniforms and pressed white shirts served drinks and other refreshments to the guests. Ro watched them, her lips curved into a quietly amused smile.

She gently clicked her teeth together to activate the comlink. "I see you," she said in a low singsong.

"Shove it up your fekking exhaust pipes," came Wren's rough growl in her ear.

She covered a giggle by taking a discreet sip of the champagne.

Ro did not normally indulge. Alcohol had the unenviable side-effect of making her silly to the quadruple power, as well as dangerously lowering her inhibitions. Worst of all, her control over her Force-empathy was erased to a stub. The first - and last - time she'd gotten a buzz on had been on her sixteenth birthday. Master Adriav had only just been in time to stop her exuberantly good mood from causing the Hardexian ambassador to seriously embarrass himself - not to mention break a few marriage promises. Even after being introduced to sinthenol by Eda - the spies' choice for negating the potent effect of alcohol on the brain - Ro had chosen to remain abstinent from alcohol.

But she did like champagne and the vintage from Daruvvia had an especially refined taste to it: ripe berries, a hint of citrus and just the barest memory of the boa-wood barrel it had been stored in. And the bubbles tickled her nose.

"Cheer up, Cookie," she purred. "You've never looked better than in uniform."

From her vantage point, Ro could see Wren scanning the ballroom's crowd, adjusting his dark waiter's jacket while trying not to upset the silver tray he held in one hand and the full glasses on top.

"I'm going to kriffing kill Eda for this."

"Best stow your threats and put on a smile," she warned. "Happy drinkers on your six."

He turned around smoothly and Ro hoped she was the only one who noticed the military precision behind the movement. This was Wren's first time blending in with the shimmersilk crowd and Ro personally thought Eda had done a good job of establishing their covers. Wren's forced smiles and his far too sharp movements would go unnoticed by people trained from the cradle to view servants as nothing more than a pair of helping hands and legs. Neither Ro nor Eda thought it likely that the upper echelon of Taris would give Wren so much as a second glance, dressed as a waiter, but just in case they'd covered his distinctive scar and dyed his hair a light shade of brown. These parties always had their gaggle of hormonal fems and mascs wanting to rebel against the strictures of their doting parents by sleeping a round with the help. Given that Wren actually was handsome and likely to attract some attention from that tipsy crowd, it wouldn't do to have a more social-conscious than normal heiress cruising HNE and discovering her erstwhile flirt's face duplicated three million times and running wild in the Outer Rim Sieges.

The couple that had approached Wren - two elderly Gran - took their glasses from his tray without even turning a single eye in his direction.

"You're getting stellar at that, Cookie," she murmured, just loud enough for the earbud to pick up the sound. "Remind me to recommend your services next time Eda plans on hosting a fancy get-together."

Her only answer was a growl, so low it was nothing but a vibration in her ear.

"Do you see the fraggin' target yet?" he asked.

Ro turned away from the balustrade, once more lifting her glass to her lips as she swept the balcony, the motion obscuring the movement of her lips. "Not yet."

"Fek this," Wren hissed. The earbud was good enough to pick up the barest rustle of his clothes as he once more took up his meandering patrol of the ballroom. "Scarlet should have shown up an effing hour ago."

Ro made a light humming sound at the back of her throat in agreement, smiling coyly at a threesome of young men in earnest conversation. One of them caught her eye and smiled in return, lifting his own glass in a courteous acknowledgement. Ro brightened her smile and turned away from the group, giving her floor-length gown a little playful swirl as she did so. It was all part of the game of courtly love that all nobles on Taris were expected to play; just another kind of dance that no one really took seriously and Ro - thanks to Eda - knew the steps by heart and could perform as expected, while her actual attention was on the room and the Force.

Wren was right, their target, Scarlet - the only piece of ID Republic Intelligence would give them - should have made her appearance already. Could the rogue RI agent have gotten wind of her pursuers?

If she's got any smart-thinks, Ro thought, then she already knows the Republic sent the hounds after her and every shadow could be waiting binders around her wrists.

Ro lingered a moment in front of the dais, where a second, smaller ensemble of musicians entertained the people gathered on the wide balcony. In general, this was a slightly older crowd than the one below, in the ballroom; more interested in talk than dancing and the music was appropriately subdued and tuned towards generating a pleasant background murmur. Watching the musicians gave Ro an excuse to pause and perform a deeper scan of the Force. To an outsider, it would seem that the young woman in the frothy, delicate pink dress had simply drifted off in thought while enjoying the sweet susurrant of the music. In reality, Ro was an internal storm of activity. Like a diver preparing for a deep-sea dive, she took the equivalent of a deep breath and submerged herself in the complex tapestry of the Force around her. The dominant mood of the party was one of good cheer, calling to Ro's mind an image of a freshly poured glass of champagne, the bubbles eagerly rising to the surface to delight, but ultimately accomplish nothing. The guests this evening were some of the richest and most important people of Taris, but their presence here served no further purpose than to prove that Taris remained unaffected by the Clone Wars and its citizens stood on the dubious sidelines of neutrality. Beneath that golden, bubbly champagne feel, Ro could sense though the barest undercurrents of worry, anxiety and even a slightly bitter aftertaste of fear, as if the champagne they were all enjoying was threatening to turn to vinegar if allowed to languish too long in the cellars.

They all want to believe they're untouchable, she thought remotely, still concentrating on the Force. But the war is developing some long fingers and they can't escape the fact that they're smack in the middle of the Outer Rim Sieges. Grievous or Palpatine could come knocking any day, neutrality or no and they know that; deep, deep down. But the faint traces of unvoiced fears wasn't what she was looking for.

Scarlet's emotions would be sharper, more clearly defined. Ro was looking for the high definition effect of alertness, which forced all other things into painful clarity. The former RI agent would be afraid, yes, but she was used to the fear of discovery and so it would be far more defined than the nebulous sense of unease the rest of the guests were exuding, but knowingly suppressed. The woman would be paranoid, which would slightly distort the Force around her, stretching it like warm, fresh caramelized Pkneb.

Her mind prowled through the huge ballroom like a hunting nexu, taking deep breaths to catch even the faintest scent of her prey.

Had something - or someone - tipped Scarlet off? Did the former agent know that her so called contact was in actuality Ro and Wren, ready to spring the trap and bring her back to Coruscant, kicking and screaming? Or had one of the other teams that were after Scarlet spooked or even caught her?

Ro and Wren had discovered at least three independent bounty hunters on Scarlet's trail, but Ro hadn't caught a whiff of them since they arrived on Taris and Wren was positive no one had followed them.

"Anything?" Wren asked into her ear just as a distinct feel of interest brushed against the back of her neck like a cobweb. A second later, someone cleared his throat behind Ro.

"Pardon me, my lady..."

Don't jerk about, she reminded herself quickly. Slow and graceful. She turned about with a gentle flutter of her voluminous skirt, a gracious smile on her lips even before she caught sight of the man. There was something familiar about his Force-aura...

It was a good thing that Eda had spent hours drilling her in the art of maintaining her cover; of hiding her feelings behind a pleasantly coy mask, because no sooner did she lay eyes on the man, than her heart gave a little lurch and warning bells started a noisome chorus in her head.

Ah, phooey.

The man was in his mid-fifties, clean shaven with only the slightest touch of grey at the temples and the tips of his dark blond hair. He wore his formal dark robes well and the cape flung over one shoulder added just the right touch of drama and authority, without looking in the least bit ridiculous. The lithe Twi'lek hanging off of one arm perfectly matched the Shoroni sapphires flashing from the rings on his fingers.

He had a very pink, prim little mouth and it was currently frowning at her. "I apologize for interrupting," he said, his tone just skirting the edge of politeness, "but I could not help but notice you and," he squinted a little at her face, "thought you looked familiar."

I should, Ro thought, dangerously close to laughing or panicking, I arrested your business partner after subduing him with a bowl of Callosian spring vegetable soup to his privates.

But thank the Force her mask held. She added a note of puzzlement to the smile, while her mind raced through the alternatives on how to handle the situation. Should she play coy? Scare him off with the barest hint of a threat? Play on her youth or turn out the experienced woman? What would he respond to best?

"I'm sorry," she said in a slightly simpering tone of voice, "I fear that I cannot say the same."

"Ro." That was Wren in her ear, alert and just a bit alarmed. "Sitrep. What the fek's going on?" Of course, he could only hear one side of the conversation.

What's going on, Cookie? Nothing much, except I'm one whipweed away from being de-covered by my own infamy. Oh joy.

Potier - Right, that was his name - frowned just a little harder and quickly glanced over her, his eyes lingering on the carefully arranged tumble of her platinum blond hair. "I'm certain that I have seen you before. Except," his eyes went to her hair again, "didn't you have cinnamon hair then?"

Yes, a mad little voice giggled at the back of her mind, eighteen months, thirty-nine missions and one grumpy Cookie ago.

She widened her eyes, deciding the vacuous ploy was her best bet at this point. "Cinnamon?" she asked and tittered gently. "My, my, what an...ah, interesting choice, wouldn't you say?" She directed this question at the Twi'lek who lifted a hand to her finely shaped mouth and tittered back. The act caused her not inconceivable breasts to bounce gently and Ro wondered if the woman was about to fall out of the tiny dress she'd pressed herself into.

"Cheeka, target on my eleven."

Time to get rid of Potier and his eye-candy and fast.

"Hmmm, but now that I think about it." She tapped her painted bottom lip with a thoughtful finger. "Perhaps we do know each other. The Smiling Zeltron. Didn't we...tango?" And she put an extra luscious purr into her voice.

Potier flushed a deep crimson while his escort shot him a dirty look. "I-I don't believe so. I can assure you, my lady, I've never stepped foot in this...establishment." Which they both knew was pure fabrication. "Perhaps I was mistaken."

"Ro," Wren snapped in warning.

She gave a careless shrug, her attention divided between Potier, Wren and the Force. There. A knot of anxiety, vigilance that acted like a magnifying glass. Scarlet was in the room. "Perhaps I was as well." She shot them both a winning smile while Potier hurried away, towing the Twi'lek after him as fast as dignity and protocol allowed.

Ro, herself slowed by the restraints of her role as a harmless glitterati, moved back to the edge of the balcony. She ducked her head, pretending to study the lovely crimson carpet beneath her high, pink and sparkly heels. "Do you have eyes on her?" she murmured, quietly enough so that the words wouldn't be audible over the general noise of conversation and the band.

"South quadrant," he answered immediately. "Near the buffet."

And close to an exit, she remembered. Scarlet wasn't taking any chances.

Ro dropped her half-finished glass of champagne on the tray of a passing waiter and quickly scanned the ballroom below. She identified Scarlet instantly and almost rolled her eyes as she saw the woman's mop of dark red hair. Really, Republic Intelligence had no imagination whatsoever. But Scarlet wasn't alone. She was in deep conversation with a Twi'lek male and Ro felt the hairs along her arms prick as she recognized him. Pale skinned, with glowing orange eyes, Bib Fortuna was gesturing at the nearby exit, trying to move Scarlet out of the crowd and towards some privacy.

How in under all the stars' sweet glory had Jabba's majordomo gotten wind of Scarlet's whereabouts. And did he know of the datastick filled to bursting with stolen GAR files Scarlet was willing to sell to the highest bidder? This had to be a coincidence, right?

"Wren," she hissed, trying to keep the urgency she felt under wraps, "we've got a bogy."

A string of Huttese curses was her only answer and Ro saw that Wren was on the other side of the ballroom, hemmed in by a glittering throng of guests converging around the guest of honor, Senator Kin Robb.

In the meantime, Scarlet and Fortuna were making for the exit, Scarlet pressing a small, beaded handbag to her side, while she eyed the surrounding crowd. No doubt the datastick was in the handbag.

Ro bit her tongue to keep her own curses at bay as she looked around. Even if she ran, she wouldn't be able to make it down the stairs in time to catch the pair and anyway, it would attract attention and Scarlet and Fortuna would have enough forewarning to make a hasty exit themselves.

A flash of something bright and glittery caught her attention and Ro looked up.

The great chandelier swayed just the tiniest bit in the crosscurrents generated by the air vents, its many crystals adding a soft tinkle to the music. From her vantage point, it seemed to Ro that all she had to do was stretch out her hand and she'd be able to touch one of those cool, tiny crystalline stars.

"Fair warned," Ro murmured for the earbud. "I'm going in," she said and began to slip the high heels off her feet.

"What the gfersh..?"

"Just be ready," she hissed as she glanced around surreptitiously. So far so good. No one was paying her any attention. Another quick glance down. Scarlet and Fortuna were almost at the right angle. "I'm going for the subtle approach."

"We're doomed," Wren deadpanned, but she saw him moving towards their targets at a steady rate, his tray discarded somewhere along the way, his head craning about in an attempt to spot her. Not very subtle on his part, but in about two seconds it wouldn't matter.

Ro took a few steps back, then glanced back up at the chandelier and her mouth curved into a wide, anticipatory grin. "This is going to be so stellar."

Then she ran.

She was at the balustrade in three steps, on the balustrade in a single, graceful leap, off the balustrade with another powerful push of her legs.

A woman screamed. Someone dropped their glass and the music faltered.

Ro was flying through the air, then her fingers caught on the strands of crystal from the chandelier and she swung her legs outwards, causing the chandelier to begin to sway in a great arc. The gentle tinkle of the crystals changed to a frantic rattle and Ro laughed as she and the chandelier swung forward, back, then started forward again.

Beneath her, she could see Scarlet turn wide, incredulous eyes up at her.

"Ro!"

"Gumbah pudding!" she cried in exhilaration as she let go of the chandelier.

Scarlet recognized her danger too late. The rogue agent tried to run, but she was hindered by Bib Fortuna, who made a desperate grab for her handbag.

Ro, her pink dress fluttering about her in manic waves, landed bare feet first atop of the woman, sending them both tumbling to the ground in a mad roll. People dashed out of their way and a platter of canapes dropped next to Ro's head, splattering them both with fodu and green fire sauce.

Scarlet had been well-trained. Even as they rolled, the older woman tried to push Ro off of her, aiming her elbow at Ro's throat. Ro ducked beneath the blow and slammed her head into Scarlet's chin, following up with a swift knee to the woman's stomach. Scarlet gasped and tried to get her legs between her and Ro. Fabric tore and strands of hair obscured Ro's sight. Scarlet's heels hit her thigh, causing the muscles to cramp and Ro screeched before blasting the woman with a barrage of emotions, all of them centered around a swirling, adrenaline-fuelled excitement. Scarlet gasped, her mouth frozen in a wide 'O' of surprise and shock. She jerked once, violently, before her eyes rolled into the back of her head as her body went into adrenaline overload.

Ro rolled them over so that she sat atop of the woman, panting and grinning like a fool. "So totally kicked your keister."

"Think you need to check your definition on subtle, cheeka," a voice drawled in her ear.

She looked up, only now aware of the total silence in the ballroom.

"Ehm." Everyone, from guests to waiters, to musicians and droids was staring at her, open mouthed and bug-eyed. She pushed back strands of her hair - now hanging mostly loosely around her face - and managed to smear more of the green fire sauce on her cheek and nose. Quick! her mind screamed at her. Think of something!

With all the dignity she could muster under the circumstances, Ro straightened atop of the unconscious woman, trying to brush the worst of the mess off of her torn gown. She gave a delicate little cough, unnecessary, considering she already had the attention of the entire room. "A personal matter between myself and this lady," she told the room at large, giving the crowd a polite smile. "I fear, where she and my husband tend to be lax, I take my wedding vows rather seriously."

Someone grabbed her elbow, trying to haul her upright.

She looked up and saw Wren scowling down at her. The gesture looked odd with his characteristic scar covered up.

"That's the fekking best you could come up with?" he demanded.

"I'm a bad liar," she hissed back. "So shoot me." Beneath her, Scarlet moaned.

"Don't kriffing tempt me."

"What is the meaning of this?" The crowd parted and Senator Kin Robb emerged, her dusky skin flushed with outrage. "Who are you and how dare you act in this uncouth manner?"

"Well, ehm. Girls...just want to have fun?" she offered weakly.

Next to her, Wren slapped his hand to his forehead.

Senator Robb opened her mouth, no doubt to call for security, but was interrupted by an ominous groan from above. Eyes turned upwards. The chandelier was still swaying, but there was a desperate note now to the jingling of the fine crystals.

Ro's mouth dropped down to her chest.

"Aw, shit," Wren muttered just as the chain connecting the chandelier to the ceiling-mount gave way with a snap of metal. Frantic screams and people lunging to all sides followed as the heavy, three-tiered chandelier fell to the ground under a chorus of its crystals. It hit the edge of the dance floor with a high-pitched ka-rash, crystal shards flying in every direction, glittering like tiny, multi-colored stars.

Wren hauled her up unceremoniously, flinging the still unconscious Scarlet over one shoulder. Fortuna was long gone, slipped away like a greased Dug.

"Party's over, cheeka. Time to evac."

She gathered up the ruined edges of her skirt, snatching up Scarlet's purse - and the precious datastick - as she did so. "Agreed. Let's make a discreet skedooch."

They ran, losing themselves in the confused flow of party-goers trying to flee the ballroom and security and servants running to aid their masters.

Wren, his breathing slightly strained under his burden, shot her a glare that could have stripped the paint off a Star Destroyer. "I cannot. Fekking. Believe. You did that."

Ro quickly tore the rest of her long skirt off, freeing her legs. She shot him a grin that was all impish good humor. "You joking me? I've always wanted to do that."

Rule # 7: If you're going to swing off a chandelier, make sure the kriffing chain is secure first.