The Centurial Hawk
Nayar awoke with a throbbing headache, groaning as he sat up. The covers slipped from his chest as he heard snoring, looking down to see a blue Twi'lek sleeping next to him. All at once, last night came rushing back, and he grinned down at her. Shaking his head he gently woke her up, the woman yawning groggily as he slipped on his clothes. "Morning, sweetheart."
"Ugh, my head huuuuuuuurts," she groaned.
"I can relate, but I'm afraid our times over," Nayar grinned, dropping her clothes on the bed. "Dress up and head out. I'll set some caf for you to go."
Leaving his shirt off, he slipped on his jacket, walking over to the caf maker to activate the machine. Once it began to make cups, Nayar turned and sauntered to Maneera's room, opening the door quietly as he walked in, gloating, "So, this smoking Twi'lek was in my- OH, come on
"Don'wanna get up," Maneera muttered, " 'm cozy." Her head disappeared under the blankets as she snuggled closer to the Zabrak woman lying beside her, a willowy Nautolan spooning her from behind.
"Well, that's great and all, but I need you up and about, we got a job to do." Nayar flipped on the light switch, the lights flashing on as he did so.
"Organic = lazy // Other organic = loud," TR protested as he wheeled by behind Nayar, bumping into the back of his leg.
"Hey, I am not lazy," Nayar scolded, only for TR to whistle the equivalent of a sigh.
"Five more minutes, Boss," Maneera protested as she burrowed further beneath the covers, her protests nearly drowned out by the moans from the women curling up to either side of her.
"TR = fix // TR = only responsible being." The droid trundled out around Nayar, extending his grasping arm. TR grabbed hold of a bundle of cloth and rolled backward at full speed, dragging the blankets in his wake.
Maneera sat up slowly, her hands at her temples as the other two let out a chorus of startled squeals. "Just tell me there's caf," she grumbled, her disheveled hair shading her eyes.
"Okay, there's caf," Nayar smiled, ruffling Mans' hair before whistling out of the room, TR rolling behind him, indignant squeals about his oil problems.
"Duty calls, ladies," Maneera sighed as she pulled herself from their embrace, giving them each a kiss on the forehead before crawling out of bed. She grabbed a random assortment of clothes from the "clean-ish" pile, squirming her way into them as she padded barefoot to the galley.
A gorgeous blue Twi'lek sipped at a cup as Maneera walked in, giving a double-take as she saw her. "Whoa, who're you?"
"That's my business partner, Maneera," Nayar called out from the kitchen, 4 cups of caf out waiting on the counter. "I thought I explained that."
"Hey there," Maneera grumbled as she leaned against the counter, her oversized Frogdogs jersey slipping down one shoulder. She picked up a mug and inhaled the rising steam. "Real
caf, Boss? What's the occasion?"
"Do not tell me you forgot
about our new job," Nayar grinned as he came from the kitchen, two plates of eggs in his hands. "By the way, you know if your friends will want food? Tyriss here-"
"It's Thyrice," she interrupted.
". . . Right, Jyrice here said she didn't want any," Nayar finished.
"Uhh... didn't ask, but — hey gals, want some breakfast?" she asked as her companions walked in, dressed in the same not-much they had arrived in the night before, somehow managing to look perfectly put-together. "There's caf, and Boss made eggs."
"It's sweet of you to offer," the Nautolan began.
"But we should be on our way," the Zabrak finished. "Like you said..."
"Duty calls!" the Nautolan chirped.
Maneera's frown only just barely avoided turning into a full-on pout. "Oh. Well, can I at least walk you home?"
"No need," the Zabrak replied. "We'll have a ride waiting." The pair stepped in close and kissed Maneera on each cheek before turning to go, the fringe of tiny coins on their outfits jingling with each step.
Nayar grumbled something about luck and women, and moved back into the kitchen with his plate and caf. The Twi'lek stood up, blowing a kiss towards Nayar's back as she sauntered from the ship.
Maneera sighed, her chin propped in one hand, spinning her cup idly on the countertop as she stared off in the direction of the exit.
"TR = decided new names = organics," he beeped, rolling into Maneera's leg with a thump, "TR = deems female organic = Scars," he whistled, Nayar choking on a bite of egg as he laughed.
"Way to endear yourself, canner," Maneera grumbled as she kicked back at one of the droid's support struts. "You better have put the blankets back on my bed."
Ignoring her, the droid wheeled around to the other side of the counter and bumped into Nayar. "Male organic = new designation = Scruffy."
Nayar dropped his fork at that, wheeling on the droid. "HEY. I am not scruffy! I'm ruggedly handsome!"
"I dunno, Boss," Maneera snickered as she reached across the counter and slid the second plate of eggs toward herself. "You could do with a haircut."
"Oh yeah? Well. . . Bleh!" Nayar grumbled, finishing off his eggs to wash his plate in the sink, grumbling all the while.
Maneera laughed after washing down a bite with a mouthful of caf. "Bleh to you too, Boss. Any word yet from Doctor What's-his-pants?"
"None yet. Surprised, though. How do you think he has that much cash to throw around?" Nayar wondered.
"My employers are quite wealthy, and pay me great sums for my experiments, Alecs." The hologram of Arthen popped up in the holo-station situated in the center of the room. "I hope I'm not interrupting breakfast?"
"Dammit, TR," Maneera snapped as she turned around, her plate and fork still in hand. "How many times have you been told not
to answer comms?" TR gave a condescending chirp as he backed away from the console.
"It seems I am not welcome at this particular time," Arthen smiled, bowing his head.
"Eh, don't worry about. Just tell us where to go, what to do, and we'll get it done," Nayar shrugged. "Remember, it's your creds."
". . .Right. In any case, you two will be heading to Ilum, and there you'll-"
"Gonna have to get geared up, Boss," Maneera noted, turning a bit to look over her shoulder. "Ilum makes Hoth look like a summer stroll."
"Ilum's Jedi territory. We're gonna stick out like a Twi'lek among Nautolans," Nayar called back. "Why send us?"
"I think more people would question a Mandalorian or a leather-clad thief then two normal freighters," Arthen answered, "and because no one will question you when you bring their scheduled drilling supplies." He grinned.
"He's kinda got a point there, Boss," Maneera replied before turning her attention back to Arthen. "But where exactly are we
going to find this scheduled shipment?"
"I took the liberty of loading it into your ship after you went out drinking last night," Arthen off-handedly commented.
?! You- You went- YOU TOUCHED MY
SHIP?!" Nayar yelled out, breaking into a sprint form the kitchen to the cargo hold.
"Hey TR," Maneera drawled as she took another bite of her eggs, "go help Boss run the usual scan before he tears somethin' apart, yeah?"
"TR = tragically unappreciated," he hooted mournfully as he trundled off to the hold.
"Not exactly a stellar move there, Doctor," she addressed the hologram. "Didn't stop to think maybe we wouldn't want someone just waltzing in here where we live
and messin' around with stuff?"
"I only touched the cargo hold, and that was nearly empty, save for a massive weapon collection in the very back, and that crate was bolted to the walls," Arthen answered. "I appear to have majorly underestimated how much a man prizes his ship."
"Empathy's not really much of a useful thing for Jedi, is it." Maneera glared down at her plate, stabbing the eggs with her fork.
Nayar trudged back, plopping down on the couch with a sigh. "Alright, nothing's missing," he sat up an pointed a finger at Arthen, "but you touch my stuff again, we'll be dancing, egghead."
Arthen casually spun his double-bladed lightsaber hilt in his hand at Nayar's threat, before replying, "I highly doubt that, Alecs. Now, here are the coordinates for your mission. It's an abandoned digsite that the Jedi gave up after it produced nothing valuable."
"What're we looking for when we get there?"
"It will be an ancient Rakatan symbol that will resemble a supernova. It should be on a door. Considering the planet, expect it to be frozen," he answered.
"So... what, we chip the symbol outta the door? Carry the door back?" Maneera turned to Nayar with a grin. "Hey Boss, can we get a tauntaun to haul the door for us?"
Arthen sighed as Nayar laughed, then replied, "No. Get inside, turn on the machine, and get out. That simple."
"And how many traps will there be waiting for us, Doctor?" Nayar drawled.
"Not too many, if this is like the other places. Best of luck." Arthen's hologram disappeared as the call ended.
"Well this is nerfsh*t," Maneera announced as she set her now-empty plate aside. "No way it's as simple as flipping a switch."
"Agreed. Now, let's go make a million creds," Nayar grinned.
can we get a tauntaun?" Maneera snickered as she picked up her plate and carried it into the kitchen.
"Hell, I'll get you a dozen baby tauntauns with the million we have coming in. But they smell terrible, so, prepare for no women daring to step onto this ship again," Nayar jokingly warned as he headed to the c*ckpit.
Maneera heaved a deep, dramatic sigh. "Why can't they be adorable and
smell nice? It's just not fair."
"Not much is! Now, go change TR's oil before he busts a nut about it." The silence stretched for a moment before Nayar said, "Okay, yeah, I could have worded that better."
Maneera laughed all the way to the cargo hold.