Chapter Text
Many planets and moons around the galaxy have quite an unfair divide within the realm of resources, between the rich and the poor, an element that is often difficult to avoid no matter which section you visit. That said, there’s few places where it’s so blatant as hutt space.
Nar Shaddaa is known for a couple of things – the hutts rule it, smugglers are relentlessly drawn to it, credits flow freely at the top, and the ground level is some of the worst places to live in, perhaps only rivaled by being enslaved in the Sith Empire. This information is not exactly in the travelling brochures, but it’s an unwritten rule, an element which virtually all of the galaxy has become aware of.
Cierah, or Cipher Nine, has not travelled here often, occasions that she can most likely count on one hand, and all so far have been work-related. Despite this minor flaw in her experience, she did not hesitate to any particular degree when Keeper delivered her the latest mission, as she feels that blending in will not be an issue. Part of this conclusion is likely due to her confidence and determination, but the area itself also plays a major role in the evaluation.
Club Nova Cluster is a facility constructed and put into activation no more than a year ago, meant to be a rival of Club Vertica in another section of the moon. Just like that casino, this club was built as a large planet-based high-altitude vessel, suspended in the air above the surface of Nar Shaddaa with expensive technology, neon signs and lights displayed along its exterior. It’s a ridiculous symbol of wealth and what Cierah would call a waste of resources, but who is she to judge whatever inane choices these people make? She’s only here to extract information.
The one she’s searching for here is the owner of the club, a man by the name of Sirrago DeValt; human, member of the Red Moon syndicate, and generally not a pleasant person, according to his dossier. He’s arrogant, brazen, overconfident and ruthless. He’s got a lot of credits and he knows what sort of influence that can buy. Apparently, a lot of that derives from the many deals he has signed with the Hutt Cartel, which has brought those two very close. Whether he’s their puppet or if they’re afraid of him, Cierah can’t tell, but that doesn’t really matter. Normally, she wouldn’t think of such a person for even a second, but unfortunately, he is supposedly involved with the terrorist network tied to the Eagle. How, she’s not exactly sure yet, but that’s why infiltration and investigation is necessary.
It is also for this reason she felt rather self-assured that she could succeed with the mission. She may not be a crime lord, but she is a member of an important military family in the Empire. Ever since she was young, she has had to interact with the military, other important families and, most of all, Sith. If there’s anyone who has encountered arrogance and a foolish belief in one’s own excellence, it’s Cierah. Sure, these wealthy criminals and socialites may live different lives, but they’re the same people, carry the same unwarranted trust in how much better they are than everyone else. Imitating this is not an issue.
As she entered the casino, she drew a lot of eyes, and she isn’t surprised. She’s aware what attention her looks receive, whether she cares for it or not. Fair skin, long black hair currently hanging down in loose waves over her upper back, with a mild application of cosmetics over her lips, cheeks and eyes. Or rather, one eye, as the other holds one of the main divergences – a mechanical eye patch. She figured it wouldn’t really matter if she showed that she was a cyborg or not here, and getting a temporary replacement for it would’ve just been a hassle.
Her body is currently adorned with a white dress that reaches past her knees, sitting rather tightly on her, showing off some of the pleasant appearance of her figure. It also exposes her shoulders. Included in this choice is a set of silver earrings and two gold rings on her fingers, surrounded by rubies.
She hates the idea of wearing something like this, as she is a military woman at heart, preferring to stand in a uniform than any other type of clothing. But as a member of Imperial Intelligence, things are different, and other approaches are required of her.
For the past several weeks, she has no longer had to do her work alone, although whether this is positive or not is very questionable. Her only partner is currently by her side, someone whose arm she’s resting her own hands against.
The other woman has even lighter skin, chalk white in fact, without any hair. Her face and head are adorned with several sharp tattoos, shaped like claws, and the only thing she really shares with the agent is the grey eye color. Compared to the human, this rattataki’s clothes are looser, with an open burgundy colored jacket, grey shirt, loose dark blue pants and a thick silver belt.
Kaliyo Djannis is not the type of person that Cierah would’ve willingly recruited. In fact, her personality and attitude are very unconventional, certainly not even close to any type of friend that the agent has ever had. Then again, she has had very few friends in general, even if Kaliyo somewhat reminds her of another woman.
Unfortunately, this partnership was not Cierah’s idea, but her superior’s. When Keeper insists that they work together, for the benefit of both, what can she say? She’s an imperial, and she will follow orders even to her death, should that be required.
The main problem, which Cierah has already realized, is that Kaliyo does not blend in among this crowd as skillfully as the agent, something that shows when they stand here and discuss the party with a few other guests.
“Ah, you shoulda seen ‘em”, Kaliyo tells them, “they expected a bonus payment for getting my shit into that warehouse, even if it was basically a trip I could’ve done myself. I just looked at them, tossed a couple of coins down the stairs and told them to fuck off. ‘I run a business here, you little shits, not a charity. If you wanted better working conditions, you’d have gone to the Republic, idiots’. And then I left them there, stranded on surface-level! Priceless.”
Kaliyo laughs, but most of the others around her do not seem quite as pleased. In fact, they’re mostly weirded out. Sure, Cierah is certain that they enjoy kicking at the poor as well, but they probably don’t discuss it this blatantly.
She hopes to ease the tension and clears her throat.
“I apologize for my wife”, Cierah explains to the other partygoers, in a different kind of accent than her normal imperial one. “She can be very…eccentric.”
The rattataki grins and glances at her.
“Or you’re just too boring to enjoy a good story! If you want, we could explain what other fun stuff we did in a place like that while people were watching.”
Cierah sighs and roll her eye, but with the irritation growing inside of her, she’d prefer to do much more. She really ponders the idea of tossing Kaliyo off the side of the platform, but she has to play her role. She just wishes the rattataki could do the same.
For now, she grabs Kaliyo’s arm and momentarily nods towards the guests.
“Excuse me. I think I must go find her another drink.”
They give her a smile, but also display a look of relief as Cierah seizes Kaliyo’s arm somewhat harder and leads her away.
“Hey, find me later! I’ve got even more good ones!”
Once they’re out of hearing range from these people, Cierah frowns and lowers her voice enough that only Kaliyo can hear.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The entire place is rather brightly lit, with lots of tables, people, and activities everywhere. Some corners have dancing men and women on display, several sections with gambling, and a lot of waiters walking around serving drinks. They pass by one of them holding a tray, which Kaliyo steals a glass from.
“Enjoying myself, obviously. One of us has to.”
Cierah breathes out, letting her eye drift around, making sure that no one is specifically watching them.
“We’re on a mission here, unless you’ve forgotten.”
Kaliyo downs half the drink before she responds.
“What, wasn’t this what you wanted? You asked me to play a douchebag, so that’s what I’m doing.”
“No, this wasn’t what I told you. If anything, I asked you to play a sophisticated individual, not some alcoholic arse.”
That makes the rattataki smirk and shrug.
“People who use words like that for themselves are usually shitheads anyway, you know.”
Cierah is starting to realize that this may have been a mistake. Perhaps she should’ve come here alone.
She looks up, finding Kaliyo’s eyes and glares into them.
“We are supposed to fit in and gain the necessary information from this area, not get ourselves thrown out.”
“What, and sucking up to these pricks is the way to do it? C’mon, agent, there’s loads of better plans just waiting for us, if we really wanted that intel.”
The human sighs and shakes her head slightly. Here she goes again.
“You’ve already mentioned this, Kaliyo, and the answer is still no.”
“Pfff. Just so you know, that’s why we’ll fail. We’re being too lax. Talking to all of these rich, stuck-up dicks won’t get us anywhere. We should get loud. Let’s trash some shit and force what we want out of them. You know what these people are, right? It’s the only way they’ll understand.”
Or more likely, it’s the only way Kaliyo will accept. They’ve spent enough time together since Nal Hutta for Cierah to have created a substantial assessment. She’s a trigger-happy, reckless, excitable anarchist, constantly looking for her next adrenaline fix. The two are practically on the opposite ends of personalities and beliefs. Kaliyo is pretty much everything that Cierah doesn’t stand for. Why did Keeper think this would be a good matchup? Does he know of Jovana? That should not be an excuse to pair her up with someone who has virtually no comprehension of duty and service.
“Listen to me”, Cierah whispers, but in a rather dangerous tone.
“I brought you here to do an assignment for my organization, not your amusement. We are here to act in accordance with our roles, as we need to extract the information, not burn this building down. If you can’t do this properly, I will not work with you anymore.”
It’s not a strong statement, she knows that, but she can change it in an instant. If she refuses, Keeper can’t really make her work with Kaliyo.
That said, Kaliyo herself only continues to look amused.
“Hah, good one! You know you don’t have a choice. Your boss wanted us together and that’s how we’ll have to stay.”
She’s getting too confident, to a hazardous level. Perhaps it’s best if Cierah makes her understand how serious this is.
Being somewhat taller than the rattataki, she leans closer and glares into her eyes.
“You really think I would have to terminate your employment to get rid of you?”
If Kaliyo was pleased with the last statement, she seems practically delighted now. The grin she displays is on the verge of being a challenge, ready to fight if necessary.
“Is that a threat, agent? Oh, I like that fire. Maybe we have more in common than I thought.”
Cierah clenches her fist, and she has to almost physically restrain herself from doing anything drastic. She has to remember that it isn’t worth it, that Kaliyo only does this to goad her, and she can’t let this woman win.
However, before she gets that far, something else draws her attention. A lot of commotion and excited sounds are heard from another side of the room.
Coming in through two sets of doors is a pale-skinned male human with relatively short red hair and a few greying streams through it, possibly enhanced with dye. He has a neatly trimmed goatee beard, wearing a slick violet and black suit, with a few lines of gold. He’s greeted by a lot of the other partygoers, seemingly asking how they’re doing and if his guests are enjoying themselves.
This makes Cierah snort and she nudges her head in that direction.
“That’s him – Sirrago.”
“Our target?”
“Yes. He has what we need.”
Kaliyo turns her gaze back to Cierah.
“So, what’s the plan then?”
The agent continues to study the man, noticing how many people he gets attention from. Seeing how his eyes roam across several women does give her an idea for how to garner his interest at least, even if it makes her uncomfortable.
“We need to convince him to get us into his office. I think I can handle that.”
“Is that so? Sure you don’t wanna consider my idea? It’ll make things a lot easier.”
Cierah glances back at her partner, thoroughly unimpressed.
“I’m sure. Just follow the plan and distract some of his tagalongs.”
There at two men around him, ones that Cierah doesn’t know whether to identify as guards or not. She could probably dispose of them, if they’re all out of view, but if they also provide advice for DeValt, she can’t know for sure what will make them grow suspicious. This is one of the few situations where having a partner is actually useful.
“And try not to fuck up.”
Kaliyo snorts.
“Yeah, same to you, asshole.”
The two split their activities, approaching the issue from different angles. Sirrago has ended up by one of the gambling tables, with some sort of high stakes roulette game playing on it. He does have a bunch of chips, which Cierah assumes he simply attained when he asked for them. It’s his place, after all.
While he seems to enjoy himself, talking with some of the other people nearby, she waits until Kaliyo has successfully managed to distract the two men by his side before she approaches him.
“Mister DeValt?”, she asks in a gentle tone.
Sirrago turns towards her, with his eyes first meeting hers, until they travel further down. It seems he doesn’t even intend to hide his interest, and his smile quickly grows.
“Yes, indeed, that would be me. And who might you be, beautiful?”
While he asks, he takes her hand and lifts it up, putting his lips at the back of it. She wants to sigh, but remains outwardly intrigued.
“Viela Darciello.”
“A lovely name, although I don’t actually remember you from my guestlist.”
“I’m not surprised. I received an invitation through your associates. We do certain business in the outer sectors of Hutt space together, and they thoroughly enjoyed the shipments I sent them last month, enough to give me a slot on your list. I hope you don’t mind, mister DeValt?”
She asks carefully, but also somewhat suggestively. Intelligence has taught her well enough, but she also has a lot of training from sucking up to Sith.
Sirrago continues to smile, remaining quite close to her.
“Oh, certainly not, miss Darciello. It is ‘miss’, right?”
“Well, I am married, but my wife is currently occupied with something else.”
She offers a smile of her own, and that seems to please him.
“Heh, I see. That’s good enough for me. What can I do for ya, then?”
“I have read a lot about your introduction into the shuttle construction business here. It seems you’re almost the only one crafting these vessels in this sector of the galaxy now. I’m a fan and I would be very interested in discussing certain details with you.”
His expression transforms into a small smirk and arches a brow.
“In private?”
“Perhaps. You do own this building, do you not? I would very much enjoy a tour of your office.”
Sirrago continues to stare into her eye, while his hand has left hers and instead travels to her back.
“Do you like gambling, miss Darciello?”
At this point, he’s getting a little bit too close for her taste, but perhaps it’s all part of his…’charm’. She lets it be for now.
“At times.”
He raises the other hand and gestures at the table.
“Pick a number for me, and let’s see how you do, shall we?”
She doesn’t really know what purpose this will serve but, if it will make him take her into the right area, she will play along.
“Red fifteen.”
He nods and then puts a few chips down by that location on the board.
“A thousand on red fifteen”, he tells the casino staff member currently taking all the bets.
The rest of the people nearby also play their own chips, adding to it, gambling on various numbers or colors. The wheel spins around and a ball is distributed into the area, to land on a location and pick the winner. When it finally does, it stops on not just a different number, but a different color.
“Black 26”, the staff member calls out.
Somewhere around the table, a few people are very happy, but Sirrago looks mildly disappointed. Or he would be, but instead glances expectantly at Cierah.
“Not the best first roll, I must say”, he tells her.
Cierah shrugs.
“I never claimed my luck in randomized games is particularly good. I prefer a more calculated and minimized risk.”
That makes him chuckle.
“I can see what you mean. This place is mostly something I own out of enjoyment and letting loose. Risk in reality is more fun when you can stack it all in your favor.”
She feels how his hand runs down her back and instead rests at her hip.
“But, I do believe you might owe me an apology.”
The touch grows into a light squeeze and she does her best not to frown. The tension within is getting worse, but she keeps telling herself to stay cool.
“Apology? You were the one who betted, mister DeValt. I merely offered a quick guess.”
“True, but I acted upon your advice. You can’t deny that you carry some of the blame here.”
“Advice that I gave when asked. You have only yourself to blame.”
He smirks slightly.
“From your perspective. Perhaps we shall discuss this in private? Instead of my office, I have a much more comfortable section in the southern wing. We can enjoy a conversation and a glass of wine there.”
Ah, crap. She must’ve given him the wrong signal, or he sees what he wants. She certainly does not want to be trapped in his bedroom or wherever he intends to invite her. She really needs that office. Getting in through violence could work, but from the blueprints she read earlier, it cannot simply be sliced. His identification is necessary.
“So soon? Mister DeValt, I do not want to sound ungrateful but, I prefer to deal with business before I indulge in anything more relaxed. I hope you understand.”
Sirrago chuckles, but doesn’t appear particularly bothered.
“Why be so strict? This is a party, miss Darciello! We can do both, I’m sure. My office is so cramped anyway. I believe you’ll enjoy the view from further up. It’s got a pool too.”
That would be a good place to drown him, for sure, which is a possible end if she goes with him, but carrying a body through this area would be all too messy.
“Mister DeValt, I must insist that you consider my alternative. This is your party, after all, and I would not wish to keep you away from your guests for too long.”
“Tsk. This is indeed my party, which is why I make the rules. And as the host, I believe my word is quite a bit more impactful than yours. If anyone should insist, it is I, miss Darciello. If we want any more guests where we’re going, I’m sure we can invite them.”
His hand is now very close to her behind and it won’t take long before he truly starts to grasp, something she’s dreading. She has been handled unwillingly like this before, but last time that occurred, she broke someone’s arm. Doing so here would be very unwise, especially with so many guards watching. But what else can she do? She will not indulge his desires, as she would rather drink toxic droid oil than get anywhere near him without clothes. And yet, the information he has may be crucial to their overall mission. What would Keeper have her do? Is this what he expects of her?
She wants to sigh, wants to groan, even wants to just punch him, but a savior arrives from elsewhere.
“Hey, there you are!”
Both Sirrago and Cierah turn sideways and faces someone that neither had expected. Kaliyo walks right up to them, pushes his arm away and seizes Cierah by the waist. She leans against the agent, making her stumble into the table, kissing her both deeply and sloppily. It’s definitely not something that Cierah would usually want, and yet at this very occasion, it’s almost a relief.
“Been looking for ya”, Kaliyo says after she tilts her head back somewhat. “Wondered if you want to go grab something to eat.”
Cierah looks into the rattataki’s eyes and she doesn’t know how, but there’s definitely comprehension in that gaze.
Pretending to play annoyed, she glances towards Sirrago.
“Sorry, mister DeValt. This is my wife.”
Kaliyo smirks and leans her head down, resting it against Cierah’s chest.
“Yo. You’re the host guy, right? Thanks for keeping my lady busy for a little while.”
Sirrago himself looks both mildly annoyed and disappointed. He tries to offer them a smile, but it’s very forced.
“No problem. Nice to meet you. You’ve got…a very pleasant wife.”
“She sure is. And all mine too.”
Cierah rolls her eye.
“I’m sorry. She can be a handful when she doesn’t get attention. Please, excuse us.”
He waves at them dismissively, already looking away, as the two of them wander off.
Once they do, Cierah really feels how fiercely her heart was beating, the agitation having grown to dangerous levels. She was virtually on the verge of an outbreak there, and yet Kaliyo stepped in so conveniently.
She tries to calm down now, eye travelling to her companion. There’s certain things she’d want to say or ask, but nothing comes to mind. Instead, she stays quiet.
“You’re welcome, by the way”, Kaliyo tells her.
Feeling how guilt surges into her chest, she exhales and shakes her head.
“Thank you. You saved me from…I don’t even know what. I wasn’t sure how to deal with that.”
Kaliyo’s previous cocky or mischievous expression has disappeared. It’s oddly blank now, or perhaps even mildly annoyed.
“Kinda knew he was a creep from the moment he walked in. Not that surprising with guys like that.”
“I suppose that’s true, but I simply assumed he would be a professional. It appears the elite of the Empire is rather different from the one here.”
“Pretty much. You see why I didn’t think this was a good idea?”
Another sigh.
“Yes, yes, you were right.”
“Glad you agree. So, what do you wanna do now? Continue to get that information in some other way, or go for another approach?”
Cierah takes a deep breath, much more so than she had previously.
“I’m not certain that I could submerge myself in this hell once more. Charming him now would only lead to…horrible consequences. I would never debase myself that way.”
It appears Kaliyo is rather pleased with that answer, which is why she smirks.
“You know, my option is still available. I know you wanna do this in a more ‘professional’ and ‘efficient’ manner, but…think about it. All that rage you’re trying to bottle up? Just imagine what a massively pleasing release it would be to blow this fucking place sky-high.”
Cierah stares into Kaliyo’s eyes, seeing how the rattataki is getting more and more excited with every word. The fact that the agent doesn’t immediately brush it off, or even glares at her, probably helps too. How can she know Cierah so well already?
It takes her several seconds to finally respond.
“It will create a lot of chaos. This area has multiple levels of guards and security. We might even die.”
“So? That’s when this shit is the best. How can you know that you’re alive, until you’ve felt the sensation of your heart almost wanting to destroy you?”
She continues to stare at her companion, trying to decide if this is wise, if there’s no other way out of it that could be beneficial. She can actually think of a few other alternative plans but, is it what she wants?
“You’re enabling me, you know that, right?”
Kaliyo grins.
“I don’t hear you complaining about it.”
With a resigned exhale, she leans her head against Kaliyo’s shoulder.
“I hate you.”
Kaliyo laughs and wraps an arm around Cierah’s waist.
“This is gonna be so much fun.”