“Well, kid,” Mikita spoke dryly, spreading her hands out invitingly as she and her companion strolled into a seedy cantina, “I suppose I should welcome you to the place I call home, excluding Dessie of course. Probably looks a little different from yours, huh?”
It had been many years since Mikita had returned to Nar Shaddaa for any length of time. She’d only wanted to get away from the place, so she’d never found a reason good enough to bother coming back for any reason apart from a cargo drop. It was hard not to admit that it was one of the best places to pick up good jobs, and since she was planning to start browsing for a more steady employer, she reluctantly figured it was the best place to start.
The “kid” that was her companion was probably close to her own age, but since he was less traveled and experienced, she’d taken to treating him like he was younger anyway. He had become a tag-along during her last run, which had taken her into the warzone of Ord Mantell with a shipment of military-grade explosives. Trevyn was his name, and he had previously been an unwilling conscript of the separatist movement there, somehow hooked into their ranks for some reason that she hadn’t cared to ask about and he hadn’t bothered to explain. He’d turned on them, though, when she’d gotten herself in a tight spot during delivery. What was she supposed to do, then, but grant him his request of a ride off the planet in exchange for the rescue? It wasn’t like she didn’t have room for him on her ship, and he’d assured her that he’d work faithfully under her just until he had enough credits to get on his own two feet, and then he’d be gone.
Plus, he was the first male she’d ever met who hadn’t tried to sweet-talk her within the first hour of meeting. She was fascinated and intrigued, wondering if she was already losing her looks at the ripe age of 25 (she doubted it), or if his conservative upbringing was really that effective…
They’d come to the cantina as their first stop on Nar Shaddaa with the intent to relax a bit after the long flight and before the hard work of job searching got started. Cantinas tended to be a good place to search out leads anyway. Mikita had long ago stopped noticing the masculine glances that followed her back (er… backside?) when she entered places like this, but it was hard to ignore the intent stare from the far side of the bar that led to eye contact as she took a seat at one end with Trevyn. It wasn’t any different from any other encounters like this – eyes met, he sat up a little straighter, she dipped her eyelashes coyly, a cocky grin spread across his face, she grazed her lower lip with her teeth and turned away. The look was broken, but the contact was made. Now that she’d looked away, she felt more than saw that the dark-haired man had risen from his seat with drink in hand. Mikita realized then, too, that Trevyn was speaking to her.
“…but it has… character… I guess…” His tone suggested that he was trying very hard not to say anything about her “home” that might be considered offensive, although he was having trouble finding an alternative. She didn’t blame him. Nar Shaddaa had very few redeeming qualities.
The sound of cup on countertop made her glance back over her shoulder, where – what a surprise – the dark-haired man had approached. He flashed his suave smile at her again, ignoring Trevyn’s proximity as he greeted her with, “I can only guess that he must be a little brother or cousin. A woman like you wouldn’t spend time in the company of a boy like that unless…” He paused, seeming to consider another option before he turned his gaze fiendishly to Trevyn. “How’d you afford it, boy? She must be expensive.”
Trevyn tensed and started to rise out of his seat, his expression darkening and his face reddening as he growled, “Now, hang on just a minute…”
Calmly, Mikita turned her head back toward Trevyn, nudging him subtly in the knee so he’d cut his burning glare at the man to see her own look, which said everything in the amused glint in her eyes. ‘Hey. Chill out. Watch and learn.’
Reluctantly, he returned to his seat as Mikita spun around to fully face the stranger. She rested her arm on the counter beside her, leaning lazily against it as she peered up at him with a pout. “That’s an odd way to pay a compliment.”
His grin widened. “But if you’re experienced enough to know that’s how it was intended, you’re my kinda lady.”
Mikita tilted her head, eying him girlishly as she questioned, “If I’m so experienced, what’s to say I haven’t already had my fun with your type of man?”
Perching on the seat beside her, he closed some of the space between them as he leaned in to murmur intimately, “Sweetheart, you’ve never experienced a man like me. I’m one of a kind.”
She resisted the very strong urge to roll her eyes, and Trevyn shifted irritably behind her as he was apparently just itching to fly from his seat and pummel the guy. She was mildly impressed that he was keeping his early promise to follow her instructions. But, really, how many times had she heard that one-of-a-kind line. She could almost predict how these conversations would go, word-for-word.
And that’s when he surprised her.
“I have a job for you, pretty,” his face fell a little as he abruptly seemed to remember he needed to impart that to her.
Misunderstanding him, Mikita instantly stopped being amused with the situation. She sat up, pulling away from where she’d too leaned toward him to draw him in during his murmuring. “Seriously, moron, I’m not for sale.”
His grin returned for a moment, and then he quickly shook his head as Trevyn, fists clenched, stood up again behind her. “No, no, no… not that kinda job. A run. Sort of. A heist. For a company.”
“A company…” Mikita narrowed her eyes skeptically. No way did this kind of good fortune just fall into her lap. This could be her way in with an organization… her way to bigger and better jobs.
The guy nodded eagerly, although he cast another nervous glance at Trevyn. It was amazing how cowardly men could be when they weren’t convincing themselves they were gods of all things femme. “I’m not with them. Just a messenger – they thought I’d find you here.”
Mikita’s suspicions went up a notch. Despite the obvious questions of “what the hell kind of company is this?” and “how’d they know where I’d be?”, which he clearly wasn’t going to know the answers to, she instead asked, “How’d you know who I was?”
He shrugged, pointing a finger toward his own mouth as he glanced at the scars across her lips. “Well, you know, you’re kind of… distinct…”
There was a time when attention drawn to her scars would cause her to darken and shut out the unfortunate offender, but she’d worked diligently to build a habit of not being bothered by it. It was just one more thing she had control of over herself, rather than giving away to the beast that tried to take it from her. So instead of a scowl, she just raised one eyebrow in amusement as he shifted uneasily in his seat. She didn’t respond verbally, so he took that as a sign to continue.
“This group, they had a ship stolen. A freighter. They want it back.”
Mikita had seen the signs all over the spaceport when she’d landed her beloved Desperado. There was to be an auction of a very drool-worthy freighter. The signs didn’t list a time or place – only a comm channel to tap into, with promise that the deserving would be provided more information. She’d briefly yearned for the chance to make a bid on a ship like that, but not only did she most definitely not have that kind of funds right now, but she had also felt a twinge of guilt about thinking about another ship besides her own, which she’d put so much work into already. It had its own personality, afterall. Since she didn’t like droids, she’d outfitted the entire ship with droid-like AI, allowing it to “speak” to her through the comm system. It took orders, found jobs, received her calls, and just about anything else a steward droid might do, except she didn’t have to look at an eerie, cold metal humanoid wandering around her home.
“The CEC prototype,” she guessed correctly, as indicated by the quick nod of the messenger’s head.
“You are to acquire the ship and return it to the hiring company. Get it into orbit – someone will be there to meet you to take the ship and provide you with a shuttle back to the spaceport here. If they like your work, you’ll be given more information about their organization.”
“That’s very vague,” Mikita frowned. “Why didn’t this company send one of their own people to give me this information. I have questions.”
The man shook his head. “They’re very discreet. They were confident that this would be enough information for you to get the job done.”
“Barely,” she snorted, resting her chin the hand of the arm propped on the counter as she brooded about the offer. “How’s the pay?”
“Substantial. The better the condition of their ship upon delivery, the better the pay. Enough that you could have bought the thing at auction.”
Mikita’s interest was definitely piqued at that, although it begged the question… “Why don’t they just buy it back, then?”
Now it was the messenger’s turn to raise an eyebrow, as if to suggest that surely she knew better than that. “Principle. They don’t want to send the message that they can be stolen from and then pay the thief for their trouble.”
He’d apparently either forgotten that he’d more or less made himself look like a bit of an idiot, or he had enough confidence in his own swagger to think it didn’t matter. As he finished giving the message, he switched back to his cool grin, and even had the gall to rest a hand on her knee. “When you’ve delivered the ship, find me. I’ll be around, and I’ll show you my ship.”
Normally, Mikita was happy enough to play along with talk like that, but she’d just been landed with a lot to think about, and his lines were boring anyway. She was about to tell him as much, but Trevyn shot back first.
“Touch her like that again, and I’ll show the hot end of my rifle.”
The guy stood, appearing again not to be intimidated by Trevyn’s threats as he dropped a data pad on the counter in front of her that listed the details of the auction. “You oughta chain that kath-mutt before he gets himself hurt.”
One thing Mikita didn’t like doing was starting bar fights. So as the guy turned and left, she reached a hand back to grip Trevyn’s wrist, turning in her seat to face him. “Down,” she said quietly. “He’s hardly worth it.”
Trevyn was still fuming, though, clenching his teeth as he plopped down into his seat once more. “You just let men speak to you like that?! Is that just how things are outside Ord Mantell? That was disgusting!”
He was cute, but naïve. Mikita couldn’t help but laugh as she reached for the data pad with her free hand, letting his wrist go from the other while patting his hand endearingly, “You’ve got a lot to learn, kid.”
"How do you sleep at night?"
"On silk sheets, rolling naked in credits."
Mikita had arrived on Nar Shaddaa just in time – the auction was tonight, according to the information her leering informant had left. Not knowing what else to do with Trevyn, and afraid to leave him sitting somewhere on his own on this moon, Mikita had allowed him to join her. He seemed genuinely interested in learning how the underground trade operated, and he was no stranger to blaster battles, so she felt relatively confident that he wouldn’t panic or flee. In fact, she was mildly relieved to have someone at her back who was experienced and comfortable with shooting back. Currently, they were ducked behind a cargo crate, watching the auction participants trickle out of the hangar where they’d had a chance to view the magnificent ship in question. The auction itself was to take place on a pleasure barge during the hutt’s lavish party, but the bidders had gotten the chance to view the ship in its hangar and ask all their technical questions so they could make an educated guess about just how many credits they wanted to sacrifice to have the unique bird.
It took longer than she would have liked, but finally they watched the last of the patrons file out and a couple of security droids take their places at the hangar doors. Mikita cringed, muttering, “No easy way in, huh? Guess I should have expected that…”
Blasting the door guards wasn’t exactly going to be subtle, so she decided to at least try some subterfuge first. Straightening up, she kept her blaster in its holster and her scattergun slung in its place across her back as she strolled confidently around the corner toward the droids as if she belonged there. She’d forgotten to tell Trevyn the plan, but instead of waiting behind the crate for her, he scrambled along too like a bodyguard.
Ignoring the droids completely, Mikita continued on in an easy pace as if she were just going to walk past them. But, she wouldn’t be that lucky. One of the droids chirped to life, holding his rifle out in front of her to block her way. She glanced down at it in distaste, then shot the droid a haughty glare. “I’ve lost a cred chip, and I think it fell out of my pocket during the inspection. I’m going to get it.”
“No one enters until after the auction.”
Mikita pulled her full lips into a frown, wishing she’d at least thought to put her hair down to make her look more like a woman on business rather than one ready to slide up under a rusty ion drive shaft for the afternoon. But this wasn’t a protocol droid… maybe it wouldn’t have known the difference anyway. Couldn’t the hutt have human guards? She’d have had a lot more luck “convincing” a human male to let her though… “You must be malfunctioning if you think I’m leaving a credit chip behind.”
“No one enters until after the auction.”
She glanced back at Trevyn, who shrugged. He’d probably prefer it the hard way, anyway. Slumping her shoulders with a resigned sigh, Mikita turned back to the droids with a muttered, “Can’t say I didn’t try…”
In a blur of motion, she freed her scattergun from its perch on her back and blasted a hole in the droid blocking her way. The second didn’t have time to react, as Trevyn responded well with a matching rifle blast to that droid’s front panel, rendering them both inoperable. They did, however, make a lot of noise in the process.
Scattergun cradled in her hands, Mikita burst forward into the hangar, smashing the control panel beside the door to default it to open. More security droids were inside, and they had already been alerted by the commotion. Mikita dove behind another storage crate as blaster fire erupted in her direction, and she saw that Trevyn made it safely to cover not far from her. He shot her a goofy grin before ducking up over the crates to return fire. Mikita had little interest in playing this firefight out, though, and instead peered around her safety barrier to see that there were more crates scattered throughout the hangar. If they could just get on the ship, they could fly out before they had to cut down every droid in the way. “Keep moving!” she cried to Trevyn, ducking swiftly from one crate to the next stack and managing to avoid stray fire on the way.
“What?!” he protested, but followed, and managed to get off a few more well-placed shots in the meantime. “There aren’t that many! We should get rid of them before they call in more!”
“No!” Mikita insisted, already sorting out her next move. “Don’t care! Let’s go!”
She was distracted by his persistence to fight back, seeing out of the corner of her eye as he took a grazing bolt to the shoulder and missing completely the droid that had entered the scene behind her. Mid-leap to the next protective crate, Mikita took the butt of a rifle to the back of her head and sunk into a flash of red and black oblivion.
Her head throbbed and her joints ached with bruising so that any twitch of movement brought jolts of pain. But that was the least of her worries.
So much blood.
Tears and blood on her face, but it was just the blood that oozed its way down her resisting throat. Coughing, gagging… no help. Too much.
Most of it wasn’t even hers.
The stranger. Unconscious, bleeding, dying above her.
A sob – bad choice. More blood in her throat.
She longed to scream, but didn’t dare. A frigid draft sent goosebumps across her wet, exposed skin. She shivered.
He misunderstood the motion.
“Ah, see, isn’t it euphoric?” A hiss, a demonic purr. “Always mine, always binding, pretty…”
Always. Bound. Forever.
Mikita bolted upright as she awoke with a gasp and stifled the scream rising from deep in her gut. She was on a ship – she almost panicked – but noticed immediately that it wasn’t that ship. There was a man, but not that man. This one was holding an empty koltopak in front of her eyes. Trevyn. Mikita took a deep, heavy breath and relaxed.
“That was some hit you took… lucky you aren’t heavy,” he grinned impishly, trying to make light of the situation. “I had to drag you in here with one arm so I could keep the droids off with the other.”
Mikita nodded, climbing warily to her feet. The room only spun a little – she’d consider herself fully functional anyway. “They’re gone, then?” She glanced at the burn mark on his shoulder and frowned. “I saw you get shot.”
“Didn’t even touch me, and they’re gone for now,” Trevyn shrugged, glancing nervously back toward the door. “Don’t think it’ll last long, though, so we should probably…?”
“Go. Yes, like I said before,” she shot him a glare. In her mind, his second rescue of her wouldn’t have been necessary if he’d given up the firefight and followed her like she’d intended.
Sure enough, as she stepped toward the bridge of the ship, alarms erupted throughout the hangar. She jumped into action, bolting the next few steps into the bridge and skidding to a halt in front of the control panel. It wasn’t a set-up she’d seen before, but it was easy to figure out. She hit all the necessary buttons and started to bring up the commands for the hangar door, but… nothing happened.
She stared at the display. It was simply unresponsive. Her eyes scanned the panel again and, there in the far corner of the controls, she saw a steady red blink on a small metallic knob. Some kind of system lock? She reached to unscrew it, but as soon as her fingers made contact with the metal, it burned her skin and she drew her hand back sharply with yelp.
“Uh, Mikita…?” Trevyn was watching as a group of droids entered the bay, dodging the fallen carcasses of their fellows. “Anytime now?”
Jaw dropped and injured fingers cradled against her chest, Mikita stared in shock at the offending knob.
“Mikita…?!” He was getting more anxious.
“What is that?!” Mikita wailed desperately, “You can’t put a restraining bolt on a ship!”
Trevyn eyed the offending knob on the dash warily, but his attention was quickly diverted out the window, where armed patrol droids were now pouring through the hangar door. “I don’t know much about ships, ma’am, but whatever it is, you’d better sort it out soon. Very soon.”
The bolt had already singed her fingers when she’d tried to touch it, and she didn’t really want to resort to the next idea that her mind considered – blast the blasted thing off. So much was wrong with that; she could only imagine what sort of damage a blaster bolt might do to the bridge controls. But with little time to consider an alternative, and the obvious threat of being immediately overrun, she saw little alternative…
“Oh, you beautiful bucket of bolts, I’m so, so sorry…”she whimpered the apology to the unresponsive prototype ship as she drew her blaster. Her instinct was the close her eyes as she fired, but she wouldn’t risk missing her mark. She held her blaster in both hands, held her breath, and fired.
The bolt flew from its place, and the ship rumbled to life. Briefly, Mikita thought she was going to make it out of here after all. But just as suddenly as the systems started up, they were soon followed by a terrible alarm sounding from within the ship. Mikita slid back to the main controls, watching helplessly as the ship initiated a lock-down. This was both good and bad… the advancing droids wouldn’t be able to get into the ship without blasting in the door, but she also was still not going to be flying out of here. It seemed to be an anti-theft mechanism designed to trap the culprit in action.
It was working.
"How do you sleep at night?"
"On silk sheets, rolling naked in credits."
“I don’t think that did what you wanted it to do,” Trevyn pitched in unhelpfully as Mikita moaned again and helplessly dropped her forehead against the control panel.
“Computers,” she whined, although despite all her desperate moaning, she was rapidly going through possible solutions in her head. “I don’t do computers… do you slice?”
She suddenly sat upright, pinning Trevyn with a hopeful gaze just as the droids started peppering the ship’s door with blaster bolts. He was starting to shift anxiously, getting the feeling that Mikita was out of options as he helplessly shook his head in response.
Cursing, Mikita jumped to her feet and started pacing. Trevyn continued his nervous commentary, “Too bad they don’t make ‘em like they used to. I had a buddy that used to swipe speeders with a jolt to the gears – no slicing needed.”
Mikita froze as Trevyn punctuated his thought with a nervous laugh, apparently having a moment of life flashing before his eyes as their apparent end neared.
“You… are…” She jumped over to him, taking him by both shoulders to turn him towards her, “Can you fly?!”
“Uh… not really…” He looked confused, then anxious again as the blaster fire continued at the door. Leave it to a hutt to try to destroy his own ship… if he couldn’t have it, no one could, right?
“You do now.” She dragged him over to the pilot seat and pushed him into it by his shoulders. “When that light flashes red, gun it.” She pointed to another lever. “Push that to the top and hold on tight. Just…” she glanced at the half-open hangar bay doors in front of her. Even she would have a hard time squeezing cleanly through a gap like that. “Just point it in that direction and pray.” She started to dart off the bridge, but hesitated and stepped back to him to add, “And pull up, not down, on the way out.”
His eyes wide with uncertainty and fear, he was edgy enough to snap back at her, “I know that much!”
But she was already gone, flinging herself around corners and jumping over a rail to the belly of the ship, where the heart of the engine was encased in the maintenance bay.
Mikita threw off her dusty brown jacket and left it lay on the floor as she went to work. She didn’t even bother to properly hydrospan panels, just pried them off with the butt of her blaster and added them to the scrap pile that her jacket had started. The guts of the engines were certainly different that the ones she’d put on her own ship, but it was hardly foreign to her anyway. Same concept, different method – not hard to figure out once you’d seen enough variations, and she had. Lacking any real tools, she used the edge of one of the panels she’d pried off to cut through wires, breaking the connection to the security system and re-wiring the start-up channel past it all. There was a faint hum as the thing regained the ability to get going, but the security feature had already cut the command and the repulsorlift didn’t properly engage.
She started to flee back to the bridge to get it going herself, but was thrown back off her feet by a huge explosion that rocked the whole ship.
“Blasted hutts!” Mikita rolled onto her hands and knees, scrambling back to her feet. There was no time for a proper start up. This slimeball was seriously not going to let his ship go to anyone else if he could help it.
Throwing herself against the engine casing, Mikita worked her arm back into another crevice that would have been much easier to access, had she the time to pry off another slab of metal. Her fingers searched blindly, praying that the layout inside was close enough to what she’d calculated it should be. Sure enough, her fingertips made contact with a bar on the internal generator that would manually spark life into the sublight ion drive. Sure, a pilot tended to reserve the ion engines for after the ship was off the surface of a planet, but she was out of time and frankly didn’t care who got radiated in the process of her escape. Admittedly, she didn’t know where the antigrav generator would be found on this ship, anyway, so repulsorlift was no longer a viable option.
Nearly in tears with relief, Mikita clenched the bar in her hand and pulled back with all her weight – which turned out to be overkill. The bar broke as she flew back against the floor again, but it did its job anyway. She heard life wake the engines as they hummed around her, and Trevyn came through too. Unrestrained, Mikita was tossed across the floor into a railing as the ship burst forward, and she curled into a protective ball as an ear-shattering blast made the whole ship quake again. She wasn’t sure if that one had been more hutt cannon fire or Trevyn missing the center of the hangar bay door gap, but as her stomach sunk with the momentum of upward flight, she didn’t care. She lay back on the floor between the engines, surrounded by her small pile of discarded shredded metal, and cheered.
Covered in bruises, and bleeding from a small gash on her forehead, Mikita snatched up her jacket as she climbed achingly to her feet. She made her way carefully back up toward the bridge, where she found Trevyn gripping the edges of his seat as if he thought he might fall off. She raised an eyebrow as she climbed up to the control panel, eyeing him cautiously. “You gonna make it…?
“I think I might be sick,” he breathed, and she saw that his face was ghastly pale.
She snorted. “You look more like you’re gonna pass out. Can you wait til we’re back on my own ship, so I don’t have to carry you?”
Apparently the mere thought of inconveniencing a lady was enough to shake him from his shock. He blinked a few times with a slow intake of breath, blinking once more as he finally looked at her. The blood and the darkened areas of her skin where bruises were forming seemed to alarm him. “What happened?!” He bolted to his feet, peering past her into the belly of the ship. “Did the droids get on board?!”
Mikita actually laughed that time, taking the captain’s chair he’d vacated. “Sure, I served them tea and made them comfortable. I’m sure they’ll be along any time now.”
Trevyn was bright enough to recognize the sarcasm in her dry voice. “That ain’t funny…”
“Actually, I have your fancy flying to thank for this.”
“Hey, I did just what you told me to! Got us out of that hangar, didn’t I?”
She arched an eyebrow, shaking her head. “If you’d done just what I told you too, we would have gotten to the ship without me taking a rifle to the head!”
Folding his arms in determination, Trevyn frowned. “Not my fault you can’t stay focused in a fight.”
“Focused?!” Mikita threw her own arms up in the air. “I was completely focused on what I was planning to do – getting us the hell out of the fight and out of the hangar!”
Whatever bright remark Trevyn might have had to counter hers, it was lost as he turned to make eye contact with her. His expression softened suddenly, and he got a dreamy far-away look in his eyes as he tilted his head and said in wonder, “You are dazzling when you’re angry… has anyone ever told you that?”
Mikita dropped her hands to hold her head, half-covering her eyes as she groaned, “Oh, Trevyn, not you too…”
He opened his mouth as if to speak again, but didn’t seem to know what to say. His dreamy look turned confused and he looked away, as if reviewing what just happened and wondering if that was really him that spoke.
As a perfect interruption, the ship’s system came on to alert them that they were approaching orbit now. She hoped their contact would be along soon, because she didn’t imagine the hutt was going to waste time gathering his own ships to follow. Not that she’d mind the excuse to take this lovely bird for a test spin. . .
But she was disappointed to find that a small transport shuttle was just making connection with the airlocks. Figures. She shot Trevyn a silent glare as she stood and started out toward the docking hatch. His jaw flexed in irritation, but he stayed quiet too as they stood on deck, waiting for their contact to enter. When the door slid open, Mikita nearly groaned.
Behind her, Trevyn voiced her thoughts well, “Oh, you gotta be kidding me…”
It was the dark-haired messanger from the cantina. He was holding a bottle of Deltron spice wine, which Mikita glanced at and chose promptly to ignore.
“You’re here for the pick-up? I thought you said you weren’t with this group.”
He smirked at her, apparently pretty pleased with her surprise. “Like I said – I’m just a messenger. I’m told that they’ll choose to be in touch or not once I drop this…” His smirk faded suddenly, as he finally saw Trevyn standing behind her. “You brought him with you?!”
“Oh, don’t act like you weren’t expecting me,” Trevyn piped up with a voice that sounded like it was supposed to be cheerful, but was coming across true to his irritation, “I see you brought me some celebratory drink! That’s very kind of you.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, as he apparently wasn’t bright enough to catch on to sarcasm. Mikita was starting to wonder if this mysterious company intended to send out such a dull representative. “No, you idiot, the wine is for the lady.” He looked to Mikita, the cocky grin returning. “I thought we’d spend some time getting to know this magnificent…” he paused, his eyes wandering over her figure before he continued, “…ah, ship, before I have to turn it in.”
She heard Trevyn’s knuckles crack behind her, but he miraculously didn’t move as Mikita put on a sultry smile of her own and sauntered forward to close the distance between herself and the messenger. As she approached, she reached up to run her fingers intimately through his dark, surprisingly thick hair, drawing her hand down the back of his neck to his shoulder and arm as he stood half-frozen, apparently not expecting things to go quite so well quite so soon.
“And risk making an irresponsible bad impression on my brand new employer?” she questioned, her voice low and soothing and her fingers slid down his wrist. “Not a chance.”
Her hand connected with the bottle he was holding, and she slipped it easily out of his limp fingers, then stepped to stroll on past him into the docked shuttle. “C’mon, Trevyn,” she called back, without looking to either of them. “We have to toast to our success.”
Trevyn beamed like a kid at the Galactic Fair, trotting forward to join her. He gave the unnamed messenger a bruising jolt to the shoulder on the way out, and once he was on board, Mikita undocked the shuttle without ever bothering to turn to see if the guy had recovered from his shock.
As the shuttle pulled away from the ship, Mikita turned on its sensor jammers to prevent any unwanted attention from searching eyes. She then sat back, gazing out the window dreamily at the ship they’d undocked from as they drifted away. As more of the ship came into her view, though, her smile slowly faded.
It was, to put it delicately, a mess.
There were cannon blasts marring the hull, not to mention a gash along the underside where Trevyn had presumably missed the gap of the hangar doors. It looked like half of one of its laser cannons had been broken off and lost completely at some point, and she couldn’t be sure, but it also appeared that part of a patrol droid which must have been trying to climb onto the ship had been grafted onto the hull when she’d fired the ion engine.
Wisely, Trevyn stayed silent beside her as they surveyed the wreckage. They were halfway back to the surface before Mikita finally spoke. She sat up with a sigh, reached for the wine, and shrugged. “Might as well enjoy this. I don’t anticipate we’ll be getting any more jobs from that company.”
"How do you sleep at night?"
"On silk sheets, rolling naked in credits."