Private Cargo and Consequence

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

The sun had already begun its slow descent over Empress Teta, casting golden shadows across the spires and ancient towers of the capital. The city below buzzed with life — nobles in polished robes, workers returning home, off-worlders bartering in the bazaars. But above it all, perched on one of the spaceport's upper landing platforms, Valery waited.

The air up here was thinner, laced with the scent of starship fuel and durasteel, and the rhythmic hiss of repulsorlifts was a constant backdrop. She stood near the edge of the pad, arms crossed loosely over her fitted jumpsuit. Her lightsaber was still on her belt, of course, resting beside a small datapad filled with shipment manifests, coordinates, and schedules.

This wasn't a Jedi mission. Not really. It was logistics — Relief and rebuilding. An important supply run to worlds still staggering from recent conflict, and today she had quite an important shipment to move. Her contact had arranged for someone — a capable, reliable flyer with knowledge of sketchy hyperlanes and the guts to cut through them. But so far, no name. No face. Just an incoming ship and a timeframe.

Valery's amber gaze drifted skyward as a ship broke through the atmosphere, banking toward the port.

"Let's hope they're the real deal," she murmured to herself, brushing a strand of hair back from her face as the wind kicked up around her.

Whoever this was, they'd better be ready.

Because this run wasn't going to be easy.

In Rhan ​

 

[In Rhan]

Landing in a civilized port was terribly easy, so long as you had credentials - real or otherwise. Most dockmasters were low-level bureaucrats at heart, with a considerable backlog and not enough staff, and often just having your excuses and paperwork orderly enough and ready with a smile went as far as a small-to-mid bribe. After that, it was as easy as setting a course and touching down. If you had an astromech or autopilot, it could handle that part while you took a nap. Most haulers had done this a thousand, thousand times. In had done this a thousand, thousand times. Unfortunately, she didn't have an astromech and her autopilot only worked when hyperspace was involved. If she wanted to land her barge, she have to do so manually or by programming in every turn, tweak, and adjustment into the computer.

Today she was meeting a new client. A friend-of-a-friend. She'd been advised to be prompt, make a good impression, and prepare for the lucrative business to pour in - and In could USE herself some lucrative business. So her arrival at the designated port required a little more prep than usual.

Her hair was always immaculate and perfect. Nothing to change there, aside from tucking a bright purple blossom behind her ear - she'd heard that her client liked purple, and it looked good on white and blue.

In opted to wear a loose fringed poncho, white leather festooned with brightly colored beads and braids as was the fashion in some pastoral, primitive lands. To show that she was travelled and a little wild. Loose firehose pants with her overlarge blaster on the hip as always - a bit of skin, but mostly speaking to her working-class style.

Heavy durasteel-toe boots. No particular reason - they were just the only footwear she owned that wasn't sandals or the heels she'd worn to a wedding like eight years ago.

In banked the Dancer towards the proper port, engaging the arresting thrusters. The heavy hauler began groaning to a slow-almost-stop. The outside wasn't much to look at, the formerly state-of-the-art Golem-class plating pocked and missing paint, looking exposed in areas. A skilled eye might detect that it was mostly mummery, a farce to dissuade foolish opportunists.

With the Dancer backing slowly into position according to her programmed instructions, In prepared to make her dramatic entrance. She had to sprint from the cockpit, half-tumble down the catwalk in the cargobay, and throw a switch on the starboard side - the sprint over to the bay entrance as quickly as possible. The effect was worth it, though.

The cargo bay of the Dancer in Green groaned open, slowly revealing Captain In Rhan. Her hair and carefully selected outfit caught just enough of the ship's wake to flutter around her as she drifted in. Perhaps the more impressive part of this whole situation - the Dancer touching down nearly centimeter-perfect in the designated LZ, the captain of the beat up old bucket stepping off of the loading ramp right before hand. Opening the cargo bay for this little presentation also served to demonstrate that it both had plenty of space, and that the interior was much nicer than the exterior.

Two clear steps took the lanky Pantoran woman forward, her hand extended in greeting. "You must be my contact. I'm Captain In Rhan." She called over the noise of the engines spooling down.

Internally, she was ecstatic at how smoothly that'd gone. She was just glad this woman couldn't hear her racing heart or feel how sweaty her hands were through her gloves.

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

Valery watched the ship descend with a practiced eye, noting the precision of its landing — tight, controlled, not a centimeter wasted. Whatever this freighter looked like on the outside, whoever was flying it knew exactly what they were doing. That boded well. The engines hummed to a slower pitch, the wind from the repulsors sending her ponytail fluttering over one shoulder as the cargo ramp groaned open. And there she was.

Valery tilted her head slightly as the Pantoran captain emerged with theatrical timing and just the right amount of flair — from the blossom tucked behind her ear to the outfit that spoke of both style and hard-won experience.

The Jedi stepped forward with calm confidence, boots soft against the platform as she extended a hand to meet In's, "Captain Rhan," she greeted, her voice smooth but strong, "I'm Master Valery Noble." She didn't add a title with arrogance, but with clarity. Just enough to let the woman know who she'd signed up to fly with.

"A pleasure to meet you. I've got a special delivery," she added, turning slightly to gesture behind her. A durasteel container sat secured to a compact repulsorlift sled, its matte surface gleaming faintly in the fading sunlight. The locks were reinforced, and a faint hum of containment fields surrounded it.

"It's sealed, encrypted, and has to arrive untouched." Her eyes flicked back to In's, steady and unreadable. "High value. High risk. We'll need discretion, speed, and a few detours that won't show up on standard charts."

Then, finally, a faint smirk tugged at her lips.

"You up for that, Captain?"

In Rhan ​

 

[In Rhan]

In nearly flinched as the placid, muscular woman described herself as 'Master'. Nearly three decades of life in the Galaxy under her belt without running into a single recognizable Force-user, and now gorgeous ladies with mystical miens were practically beating down her door. Were she a more adventurous sort, In might have been less annoyed at the prospect. As it stood, she fell back on comfortable programming. Firm handshake, eye contact, confident smile. A job was a job. "Nice to meet you, Master Noble. I'm Captain In Rhan." The Pantoran introduced herself once more, immediately wincing a the gaffe like she'd heard microphone feedback.

"Forgive me. Tongue tied." She briefly considered making up an excuse about a long trip or trouble on the way in, but lying to a client's face was poor practice. Lying to a Jedi's face was downright foolish. Better to just own her idiot tongue and focus on the business.

Releasing Valery Noble 's hand, In stepped past to appraise the shipping container. "The Dancer in Green isn't going to set any speed records, I'll tell you that up front - but she's hard to stop once she gets going." The Pantoran promised. "Besides, full throttle travel is a good way to get noticed in most places. Keeping your rig just slightly slower than the speed demons is practically a cloak on most hyperlanes." The amount of security on the box dissuaded her from poking it at all. "Aside from that. Low profile, backlanes, and keeping my mouth shut. I can handle that, no problem." With her back to the cargo, In folded her arms and gave the Jedi a broad and relatively guileless smile. "Given who referred me to this job, I'm guessing you know that I won't move slaves and I won't deliver bombs already - I can't see a Jedi wanting that, anyway. That established, I don't need to know what's in the box, just what you want me to put on the manifest."

"Where do you need it to be, how fast, and what's your budget?" In asked cheerfully, shifting her hips into a comfortable contraposto. As the old adage went for most services: Fast, Cheap, Good - pick two. "I'd ask if you wanted receipt of arrival over comms or courier, but you look dressed for travel and this box seems horribly important."

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

Valery didn't miss the flinch, or the slight stumble over her name — and while some Jedi might've smoothed right past it with sterile professionalism, she didn't bother hiding the smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. It was small, almost amused, but never unkind.

"You're doing just fine, Captain," she said gently, her voice warm with reassurance.

She turned slightly as In stepped past her to inspect the crate, folding her arms across her chest and glancing at the ship again — the Dancer in Green — with a more deliberate appreciation. It might not have been flashy, but the Pantoran's read on it was sound. Discreet. Functional. Not the kind of ship that invited unwanted attention.

"You're right — I wouldn't be here if this was about bombs or bodies," Valery said evenly, her tone cooling just slightly, though it was more habitual than directed. "And I especially don't deal with slavers," she said, her tone making it obvious she had some personal feelings about slavers.

Then she turned her gaze back to In, and the calm returned just as quickly as it had vanished.

"There's a hidden outpost along the edge of Sith territory — still active, but cut off. The location's off standard star charts, but I've got the coordinates." She unclipped a small datachip from her belt and offered it over with a flick of her fingers. "Speed doesn't matter. Safety does. You get it there intact, and I'll pay whatever you need to make it happen." She paused, eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "And yeah… I'll be coming with the shipment. Jedi don't usually send this kind of thing unattended."

Valery stepped closer then, resting her hand lightly on the edge of the container.

A final glance — deliberate and appraising.

"You still in, Captain?"

In Rhan ​

 

[In Rhan]

"Of course I'm still in. I've been In since I was born." The Pantoran woman joked, a crooked smile erupting on her face as she got to unleash her favorite Stupid Joke on a new person for the first time in months.

In didn't normally get involved in factional conflict. The ROI just wasn't worth it. She mostly took jobs in unincorporated space, and while the various Galactic powers had much less sway out there they didn't have none. It wasn't worth gaining a friend with other priorities for the sake of going on the naughty list of an entire superpower. Generous pay, straightforward task, and the fact that she had parts she needed to buy changed the calculus a little. It had absolutely nothing to do with the Jedi Master herself, or the cool confidence she exuded. The stony edge in her voice as she took a firm, agreeable stance on slavery. In reminded herself that she was fully capable of making rational business decisions that had nothing to do with the relative beauty and admirable personalities of the women who kept offering her work.

In carefully took the chip, turning it over in her fingers. In return, she produced a small pad and scribbled down a number, followed by a considerably smaller number. Rip, fold, hand over. "If the top number is an agreeable sum and the bottom is a good time-frame, we're in business." In offered. Her asking fee was a bit steep, but then she was carrying a single box and a single woman a considerable distance - no other freight to supplement. Urgency, secrecy, and the assurance that this woman had a generous budget had also added to the price - though In certainly wasn't raking her over the coals. She wasn't the sort to gouge.

Once negotiations were completed- "Are you boarding as yourself, or do you have a cover story, an alias or something I can corroborate?" The blue-skinned trucker asked, pushing the hoversled into the cargo bay of the Dancer. Various plants in pots and hydroponic trays hung from the ceiling, some fruiting and other floral. Most of the ship had some sort of benign plant life within reach, all of it lovingly tended and curated.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

Valery couldn't help the soft chuckle that slipped out at the pun, her arms uncrossing as she took a few casual steps closer. "That was awful," she said with a grin, clearly amused. "But I respect the commitment."

She accepted the folded note with two fingers, unfolding it to glance over the numbers. The top figure earned a slight arch of her brow — not out of protest, but mild surprise. Fair for the job, maybe even a little generous to herself, but Valery wasn't in the habit of lowballing someone she wanted on her side. Her thumb brushed along the paper once before she nodded and folded it again.

"It's a deal," she said simply, sliding the note into her belt pouch. As In moved to push the sled into the ship, Valery stepped in behind her, her boots ringing soft against the deck plating as she followed the crate up the ramp and into the heart of the Dancer in Green.

Her steps slowed as her eyes scanned the interior — not for threats, but with a surprising softness. The warmth of the place hit her first, and then the scent — faint, earthy, clean in a way few ships ever managed to be. She caught sight of the plants hanging in their trays and pots, leaves brushed with the gentle sway of air circulation. Fruit. Flowers. Even medicinal herbs, if her senses weren't deceiving her.

"You weren't kidding about low profile," she murmured, clearly impressed. "Most haulers this size smell like fuel, fried caf, and old socks. But this..." She reached out, brushing her fingers along the edge of a planter as they passed. "Is quice nice."

She looked over at In, her amber eyes warm, "I like it. It feels... cared for. Not just flown."

Then, at the question, she shook her head slightly and offered a faint shrug of her shoulder. "No alias. If trouble finds us, we'll deal with it. Together, if you're willing. But I'm not hiding from what I am."

A beat, then her smirk returned — smaller this time, but no less certain.

"Besides. Jedi or not, I don't rattle easy."

In Rhan ​

 

[In Rhan]

Gentle laugh, confident smile. What deadly combination. In was grateful that she'd had the chance to conclude the negotiations BEFORE Valery started throwing those around. Mostly, though, she was glad that negotiations had concluded after a single round. She'd tried to be fair, for the most part, and it was nice to not have to verbally spar with a woman who rolled declarative statements off of her lips the way a languid, affectionate but still INCREDIBLY dangerous Nexu might purr.

AND she liked the plants. This was a good thing - The Dancer in Green was filled with plants, everywhere but the cargo bay, gunnery seats and cockpit had at least a couple. "Thanks - I've put a lot of work in." The Pantoran woman replied with a broad and honest smile as she pushed the sled into position. Couplers seized the sled and disengaged the hover, locking the crate and transport into position. A satisfying, familiar thunk-thunk-hiss. In followed up by tossing a thick blanket over the box and strapping it down.

The straps were redundant. The blanket was for good luck. Thanks for the tip, Niysha.

"My parents were botanists. A ship doesn't feel like home without a garden. I don't keep anything toxic, unless you eat 'em, so feel free to sample anything that catches your eye." In explained cheerfully, ratcheting the straps down. "Having fruits and herbs around cuts down on the amount of nutrient paste I have to eat. Hopping down from the container, In caught up with Valary and motioned for her to join for a tour of the ship, walking backwards in places as she talked. "I assume you don't mind some fresh fruit, tea and granola, right?"

From her physique, the woman clearly put some thought into what she ate. Or, perhaps, the Force took care of that for her. Niysha was certainly in fine shape, but considerably less... yolked. But then Niysha wasn't a Jedi. She was just an archaeologist who knew things about the Force.

Most of the Besaid-Class' length was cargo, including the space auxiliary barracks she'd converted into half of a refrigerated cargo bay and half a smuggling compartment, so there wasn't an incredible amount to show off. The Galley was really equal parts common room and kitchenette, and where most of In's non-working hours appeared to be spent from the pulp fiction by the lounge chairs and scent of lemon tea.

"You'll be in room 1, right across from mine. I assume, anyway - there are two others, but I don't think they're as nice." In explained, leaning in the doorway to the cockpit with her arms folded and her hair tossed back, smirking. "We're getting refueled now, so we're in the black as soon as you're ready to leave. Just say the word."

For credits like this, she couldn't WAIT to get started. Valery Noble had likely already picked up on her tendency to yammer when she was excited or trying to impress someone.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

Valery listened with the kind of amusement that played easily across her features — not the kind you wore to entertain someone, but the kind that slipped in naturally when you were genuinely enjoying a conversation. Her arms had dropped to her sides now, one hand absently brushing over her belt as she took in the small touches of life aboard the Dancer in Green.

"You're speaking my language," she said with a chuckle, glancing toward a cluster of herbs near the galley. "Tea's part of the morning ritual. Granola's quick fuel. And fresh fruit?" She shot In a look, her brow raised playfully. "You're going to make me forget this is work."

She reached down to pat the pouch at her hip where her personal effects were tucked — travel light, but with purpose. Jedi life made that a necessity. Then her gaze drifted toward the corridor and the rooms In had indicated.

"Alright, I'll stash my gear," Valery said, turning to head that way. But before she did, she paused and looked back over her shoulder, her ponytail swaying slightly with the motion.

"Then we're good to go." Her lips curved into a smirk, and she threw a wink over her shoulder. "Don't let the engines cool off while I'm unpacking."

And with that, she vanished into the hallway with that easy, confident stride — already settling into the rhythm of the ship.

In Rhan ​

 

[In Rhan]

As Valery breezed past and commented on In's hospitality, the Pantoran woman grinned ear-to-ear. "If I'm doing my job right, you should forget this is work." She promised, unable to help a glance at the woman's hip when she gave her pouch an indicative pat. "My intention is this is a nice, quiet trip. You sleep in, we talk recipes and holovids, and make a smooth dropoff without anyone thinking twice about us. Then we go home" The Pantoran woman explained. A twist of the waist, and she pulled herself up into the cockpit seat with an ease and grace that suggested long practice. Somebody with shorter legs might've had a bit more difficulty and used more rungs, but In had a ballerina's build and flexibility. That, and a desire to show off a little.

That wink was heart-stopping. Normally, In was fairly bad at telling whether flirting was actually happening, or if she was bothering the other person. Travel and isolation had exacerbated a natural deficiency. But if Valery's wink and strut into her room didn't suggest that the Jedi knew fully the effect she had, then In didn't want to know. She'd prefer to live in a Galaxy that made sense. "I'll keep things started while you get comfortable. Call if you need me." In replied, feeling a little ridiculous for the cheesy reply.

She wet her lips, exhaled softly, and turned her attention to her instruments. Right. There was actual work to do. As ever, In was happy to lose herself in her control panel. She slotted the chip Val'd given her into a hidden astrogation console segmented from the rest of her network and let it think about a path while she fired up the twin sublight engines. Now that she and Niysha had fixed them, they purred merrily and launched The Dancer into the air. With such a light berth, the ship practically lept to action at the slightest touch. In swiveled in her seat, flipping toggles and engaging various countermeasures, tweaking dials to modulate the fuel expenditures and get the shields warmed up.

Once they were clear of the atmosphere, the Dancer's hilariously overbuilt skipdrive would give them a butter-smooth transition into hyperspace. But she needed a route first. Reviewing the calculations her smuggler's console suggested, In made a couple of tweaks to the route before plugging the directions into the ship's proper computer manually. In an emergency, her secondary computer could be remotely wiped or fried without damaging the ship's main console - and the systems didn't touch. Like preparing meat and veg, it was wise to keep your clandestine hardware separated from your legitimate.

Even if it was a little more manualy intensive and took time - those were both acceptable trade-offs in her book.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

Valery didn't miss a thing — not the twist of In's waist, not the fluid grace with which she slid into the pilot's seat like the controls had been made for her alone. Confidence was always attractive. But confidence paired with skill? That earned a second glance. And Valery gave one. Over her shoulder, just before vanishing into the corridor.

By the time she returned, it was with her belt slung back on and her hair retied into a tighter, more practical ponytail. "Nice takeoff," she said, voice low and smooth as she leaned on the back of the seat, fingers tapping twice along the headrest. "I see the cockpit comes with a view and a floor show."

Then she rounded to the co-pilot seat and dropped into it with practiced ease, her legs crossing, one boot tapping idly as she eyed the blinking controls.

"Everything looks good on my end," Valery added, her smirk returning as she glanced sidelong at In. "We clear for launch, Captain? Or are you still making a few… tweaks?"

A pause, then a playful raise of her brow.

"I can wait. I'm enjoying the scenery."

In Rhan ​

 

[In Rhan]

In snickered at the teasing, reaching up to finalize some settings. She didn't have an astromech and was a bit of a control freak, so most tasks were handled manually or were automated but required slight tweaking. The cockpit was even warmer than the balmy 21C that the rest of the ship rested at, and while In was tempted to abandon her fringe poncho for the crop top beneath it she wasn't sure she was ready to start peeling off layers for her audience.

"You tease, but I was a dancer once upon a time." In replied with a crooked grin, glancing away from the controls only long enough to make eye contact. Like any experienced spacer, In worked the controls without missing a beat. Her grip on the flight yoke was surprisingly light, barely cradling one of the twin sticks in her fingers as her free hand finished inputs. "It's practically a legitimate piloting credential. Bought this ship with my hips."

The Dancer breached atmo and got the green from ground control to move to a warp vector. In gave the Jedi a sly smile, leaning forward in her seat so she was nearly draped over her yoke. The poncho slipped up a little, giving glimpses of the bright blue beneath the white leather. She spoke in a playful, rolling purr. "Give me a moment to show off a little and give you my bonafides? I just need you to close your eyes for a moment I just tuned up the engine. I want to see if you can sense the exact moment..."

Provided Valery Noble obliged, In cheated a little. Engaging the Madeen Shiftdrive with a small twist of her wrist, the Dancer silently formed an envelope and slipped into hyperspace like an expert diver beneath a still pool - leaving only the slightest ripple of wake to suggest that the water had ever been disturbed. The moment was nearly impossible to detect for most people, though maybe a Jedi would have better luck. "...that we go to warp." In finished. "Let me know when you feel it."

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

Valery leaned back in the co-pilot seat, her smirk deepening as In draped herself over the controls with all the elegance of someone who knew exactly what effect they were having. The poncho slipped. Skin showed. Bright blue beneath soft white leather.

Showing off? Oh, definitely.

"I knew the way you walked onto that landing pad was intentional," Valery teased, her voice low and velvety. "Dancer turned pilot? Makes sense. You move like someone who knows when people are watching." A beat. Her amber eyes tracked the slip of fabric and the elegant bend of In's frame. "Not that I'm complaining."

Then, at the invitation, she gave a subtle, amused hum and let her eyes flutter closed.

"Alright, Captain," she murmured, head tilting back just enough to rest against the seat. "Impress me." The ship was so smooth it could have been drifting. No jolt, no roar of engines punching them through realspace — just a quiet hum and the low, perfect purr of power shifting from potential to kinetic.

But Valery felt it.

Not in the sound. Not even in the movement. It was in the Force — a delicate twist of space, like air being drawn into a held breath just before a kiss. Her brow arched slowly.

"There," she whispered, lips parting with the ghost of a grin. "You just slipped us into hyperspace."

Still, she didn't open her eyes. Her voice remained soft, slightly playful.

"Can I open them now… or are you planning another surprise?"

In Rhan ​

 

[In Rhan]

The only thing scarier than not knowing if you were flirting or being obnoxious was absolutely knowing that you were flirting. There was a flirt happening right now. She was getting eyed up by a very confident, very attractive, very handsome Jedi. They weren't even out of the gravity well. If the entire trip was going to be this charged, she might need to take a more scenic route. Though, the idea of compromising her professional integrity for the chance to score was entirely repugnant. If she couldn't seal the deal without being a poor smuggler, she didn't deserve to succeed at either.

But didn't she look good with that slow inhale, arching her back and answering a question with absolute certainty. In's response to this wonderful display was the same she had whenever looking at any fine work of art - she smiled without really thinking about it.

"You got it in one. Of course." In sighed, leaning her elbow in the middle of the flight yolk, her chin cradled in her palm. "More fool me for trying to get one over on a Jedi. G'on and open up those eyes." The Pantoran woman half chuckled. "I don't have the courage to do anything more daring than that."

Mildly self-aggrandizing. In didn't seem to mind though, turning her attention back to the window to watch stars flit by. She stole a glance back at Valery Noble out of the corner of her eye, a curious yellow glance hidden behind well-tended white strands. "We're going to be in-transit for a fair bit." In explained idly, wiggling her bare toes on the bulkhead beneath her elevated pilot's chair. "Big fuel reserves. Once we hit the lanes, we'll make a short stop to top off, then we're more or less going without pause until we start encroaching on Sith space."

In paused to sit upright, stretching her arms languidly over her head until her fingertips splayed against the roof of the cockpit. The poncho rose as well, the fringes insufficient to cover hips, belly, or back. A looong groan halfway between a yawn and a sigh. "Been hard getting info out of that area recently. I'll see if I can pick up any good news on the longwave comms as we travel, but if I don't hear much we'll make one more more local stop. Ask around. See if any of the older backlanes are still going unmonitored." In explained. "We're not sunk if nothing turns up. It just never hurts to ask. Sound like a good game plan?"

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

Valery smiled before her eyes even opened. It was the kind of expression that started slow, curled like a secret, and reached her lips only when she finally lifted her lashes again. The stars beyond the viewport stretched into soft lines of light, hyperspace whispering past the hull like a dream in motion.

"One over on a Jedi?" she echoed, voice low and amused. "Bold of you, Captain. But I don't mind bold."

Her gaze slid toward In just in time to catch the stretch — slow, casual, completely unhurried. The poncho lifted. The bright fringe danced. And bare skin underneath. The kind that caught the light and made it linger, exposed just long enough to make a point before vanishing again.

Valery's smirk sharpened. Not predatory — not quite — but definitely interested.

"Starting to think I wasn't the only one trying to make an impression," she teased, legs still crossed lazily in the co-pilot seat. Her hand rose to toy idly with the edge of her sleeve as she added, Then, more seriously — though her tone never lost that playful undertone — she shifted in her seat just enough to let the moment breathe.

"That plan sounds good. Getting into that stretch of space isn't easy right now, especially without drawing the wrong kind of attention. But what I'm bringing in… it'll help open a few more doors once it reaches the right people." She glanced sidelong, golden eyes thoughtful. "There's a lot happening out there that we're blind to. This mission won't fix that — not alone — but it's a step."

A beat. Then the smirk returned, lazy and warm.

"That is… if we survive your flying. And your wardrobe."

In Rhan ​

 

[In Rhan]

The cargo was important. Which, yes, of course it was - a Jedi master was escorting it, and it was going on a clandestine civilian transport into Sith space. In reflected that this was seriously close to jeopardizing her 'no bombs' rule, at least in spirit. She wasn't a soldier, she didn't want to get involved in factional warfare. It was much safer to scuttle between the stomping feet of dueling giants, especially since they tended to rise and fall so very quickly. Sure, most of the big ones just changed the name and flags a little - but inconsistency was bad for business. Zealots were dangerously unpredictable. Sure, Jedi Master Valery Noble could and probably would protect In from nearly any dangers that cropped up on the trip... but participating in a clandestine military operation might mean going on a list. Valery Noble couldn't protect her from getting killed in her sleep by a Sith-funded bounty hunter eight months after the operation.

Unless she was in the bed next to her, perhaps.

In discarded the thought, shooting Valery a mildly incredulous, flustered smirk. "What's wrong with my wardrobe?" She asked in mock indignance. "Cinnagar is warm. Most cities are." Sure, she'd only been on Empress Teta for a couple of minutes to negotiate, but even so. "If that helps make an impression - well. I believe that one always makes an impression. Presentation just helps control what impression you make."

With the ship in hyperspace, there wasn't much In could do at the controls but monitor - and the galley was right behind the cockpit. The lanky Pantoran checked her instruments, fingertips drifting delicately over the panoply of dials, knobs, and toggles to issue orders to various systems around the Dancer, "Alright. We're green. Free to move about." Standing from her chair in such a way as to rise beside the co-pilot's seat, In lingered beside Val's armrest. For a brief, fluttery moment she envisioned being pulled down into the woman's lap. It wouldn't be hard. Valery had strong-looking arms, she was a warrior by trade, and compared to the power the Jedi could bring to bear? In could hardly have pulled way.

Was the whole trip going to be like this? She'd explode.

"How do you take your tea, Master Jedi?" In asked with a hand on her hip and a broad smile on her face. "Allow me to make you a cup as a welcome-aboard while you get comfortable." Her smile turned into a vulpine smirk as she drifted past Valery's chair. "Maybe we can pass the time to the next jump playing cards or talking about boys?"

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

Valery's smirk deepened as In rose beside her — close enough that she could feel the warmth of the Pantoran's presence, the subtle shift of the air between them as they stood in tandem. Her eyes flicked upward, golden and steady, tracking every inch of the rise with that same quiet confidence she wore like a second skin.

"Hmm," she murmured, tilting her head just slightly. A playful pause. Then, she leaned in — just enough that her voice dipped low, a soft tease brushing against the edge of flirtation like a whisper against skin.

"Surprise me."

She didn't break eye contact right away, letting the moment hang for just a breath longer than it needed to. Then Valery stepped past In with that same easy grace she always carried — hips shifting with slow, unhurried purpose as she crossed into the galley and lowered herself into one of the chairs with a quiet exhale. One leg crossed over the other, her fingers brushed a few loose strands of hair from her face and tucked them back behind her ear, the gesture more absentminded than posed — but no less enticing for it.

"I'll make myself comfortable," she said, settling back into the seat. "But I make no promises about behaving."

A beat. Then her lips curved again — soft, amused, knowing.

"So... boys and cards, hm? That's really what you want to talk about?"

In Rhan ​

 

[In Rhan]

Not that it was a contest, but if it were? In was losing. Valery's confidence and poise, the command she seemed to have over every moment and breath - it was a little uncanny, really. In's traitorous eyes were stolen away towards the lazy swing of her hip, the way her arms - so well muscled and seasoned in battle that they could rip a droid in half - brushed away hair with a surgeon's delicacy. Jedi were, In had heard, supposed to avoid material attachments and political office - but Valery Noble seemed a Queen, and every place she chose to be became her court.

Her head was spinning. In felt a little hysterical. The Pantoran woman breezed after her employer with a broad smile, moving with feather-light steps that helped her glide across the galley - as much as one could glide in work boots. They didn't last long, though, as In paused to unlace and discard them in favor of sandals. The fringe leather poncho was similarly hung up, as 21C was simply too hot to have a jacket on. The crocheted halter top she'd had on underneath would do.

The Galley was undoubtedly the nicest room in the Dancer, and clearly where In spent most of her time. Though In had converted all non-'officer' rooms in the ship into storage, the Galley was clearly meant to serve a larger crew than the one-to-three people normally aboard.

A large round table with a comfortable couch, backed by several hydroponics trays filled with herbs and small fruiting plants like berries. Flowers hung from the high ceiling, each pot marked by In's handwriting to indicate watering or fertilization cycles. The kitchen was open to the seating area, some of the redundant surfaces converted into counters for more plants, bowls for produce. One of the larger stoves had been removed, replaced with a slightly out-of-place smoker/drying rack appliance.

In peeked into a few containers of looseleaf tea and selected a favorite. Dark, earthy, with a bit of a lemony-mint flavor. The Pantoran woman added a practiced, generous pinch to a pair of well-travelled mugs, place a small apparatus in the bottom of the mug to keep the tea from floating up, then poured hot water atop both.

With a bit of ceremony, In turned and fixed the comfortable Jedi with a sly smile. "Boys. Cards. Whichever." She snickered, a yellow mug in one hand and a purple in the other. Chin up, smirking all the while, In approached with the smooth grace and confidence of a runway model. "I'm not hearing any better suggestions from you, Master Noble - might you be tongue-tied? Or are you the first woman I've met who doesn't have an opinion about men or know a single card game?"

Bold. She liked bold, right? How bold was too bold? In felt ridiculous, but it was far too late slam the brakes. This was practically a date, and she'd been not-at-all prepared.

In set a mug down before Valary, her own beside it, then sat down near enough to lean on the table and face the cozy Jedi. She was tempted to stretch her legs out over Valary's lap, but decided against it. Not enough bravery. "I'd ask if you often commission civilian ships to carry clandestine supplies, but I sincerely don't want to know the answer. So I'll ask - what's it like? What's the day-to-day life of a Jedi Master look like?" In asked curiously, propping her chin up on her palm, her tea steeping between her thighs.

To indicate that such a thing was permissible, In plucked a tart, plump black berry from a bush behind them and popped it into her mouth with obvious relish - motioning for Valery to give one a try.

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

Valery's eyes tracked In with a lazy sort of appreciation as the Pantoran moved about the galley — all soft steps and knowing glances, that confident sway barely hidden behind practicality. The boots came off. The poncho followed. And suddenly the cockpit's flirtatious heat had blossomed into something even warmer.

And Maker, did Valery like the view.

When In turned back with that runway smile and twin mugs in hand, Valery was already smiling — slow, crooked, half-lidded, and absolutely unrepentant.

"Cards?" she echoed, tilting her head as she accepted the warm mug with a graceful hand. "Not really my strong suit. Never played much. I tend to give too much away with my eyes." Her tone dipped ever so slightly on the last word, her golden gaze lifting to meet In's — then dropping, very obviously, to take in the curve of the halter top, the bare skin it revealed, and the steep line of In's collarbone.

Then a playful smirk. "Men, though? Or women?" A deliberate pause. "I've got plenty of experience with both." She popped a single, plump berry from the bowl near her into her fingers, studied it for just a moment — then leaned back into the couch, slow and deliberate. The berry touched her lips before disappearing behind them, the motion smooth and indulgent. Her eyes didn't leave In's for a second.

"Not bad," she said, licking the juice from her lower lip with a satisfied little hum. "You grow those yourself?" Her legs crossed again, her body relaxed but always ready, always aware. The same way she always was — like someone who could roll out of a silk bed straight into a battlefield without missing a beat.

"As for Jedi life?" Valery exhaled, then looked upward thoughtfully. "Wake up early. Stretch. Spar if you're lucky. Chase down intel if you're not. Always on the move. Always putting pieces together. Sometimes it's saving people from warlords. Sometimes it's translating a five-thousand-year-old warning that says 'turn back or die.'" Her smirk returned, wry this time. "There's never a dull day. Or a long vacation."

She took a sip of the tea — slow, appreciative — and nodded once. "Mmm. That's good."

Then she leaned forward a little, elbows on her knees, mug cradled in both hands.

"I'll admit," she said, voice dropping just a touch, "This beats sleeping in a mud-covered tent. You're a very… generous host, Captain Rhan." A wink. "And your berries are excellent."

In Rhan ​

 

[In Rhan]

In leaned back against the rounded couch, brushing her fingertips against one of the fruit-bearing vines crawling up a trellis behind her. "Every plant here. My parents were botanists - we had our disagreements over the years, but I'll always be thankful for this particular skill." She explained fondly. "A place doesn't feel like home unless I garden there. And everything that comes with it - supplemental nutrition, conversation starters with the occasional liaison, a way to impress women-""

leaning back had been deliberate. The triangle halter was all but made to show off In's trim belly and hips, and she hardly needed a reason to do so after the way Valery had been running her eyes over her.

"As long as you're paying me, you can just call me 'In'. I don't insist on titles." The Pantoran woman chuckled, draping her arms over the back of the seat. "Especially as we're going to be sharing space for a couple of weeks. Which - doesn't that seem a bit like a vacation...?" She speculated thoughtfully, though her trailing tone suggested she was teasing. The crate must be important, and it must need delivering, or else In wouldn't be getting paid as much as she was. While In didn't doubt the critical nation of Valery's mission, it did seem like a nice way to sneak a bit of relaxation in. "I'm surprised you didn't suggest we go undercover as honeymooners or something."

In shot the Jedi a grin, leaning her head to one side. Her thick white hair spilled over a bare shoulder, her yellow eyes struggling to find Valery's after dipping down at each little motion of the Jedi's fingers. "That's a pretty busy schedule you have, though." She mused, her voice lowering a little. "Might be a bit busy for me to carve a little place out for myself. I'm very high-maintenance." In lied cheerfully as she too a sip from her steaming lemonmint tea. "What do you think?"