Private Lost (and found) in Time

[Ordan Vosk]

Midvayne, the Inner Rim
Valery Noble ​

---

Midvayne City, a Hub for Underworld activity.

It might have been a cantina like any other. Criminals and the unsavory element mixed here, strong music played in the background and it was an undeniably unsafe environment. It may have well been home.

Since the Hutt Cartel had dissolved, returning to a state of several competing Huttese Crime Families he'd kept out of the limelight. It wasn't so different than after the Black Sun had relegated itself, taking a more minor role on the galactic stage. Something had happened though, it started as a rumor and then it grew into something else; it could be an enormous payday or it could be death.

Only one way to find out.

He'd reached out to old contacts he'd maintained, people who wouldn't double-cross him for fear of death but whom he also couldn't risk bringing on the job. Loose lips sink ships or so he'd been told once or twice when he was younger. Eventually he heard a name, reputable and someone he didn't know; Alicia.

Now he was here, on Midvayne in the inner rim, waiting.

He'd taken a seat at a Sabacc Table, across from him and on either side were what looked to be a pair of Near Humans, a Rodian and a Sullustan. As the cards were dealt Ordan took a shot of the tables flavor, a strong liquor that bit all the way down his throat that he chased with a drag from a cigar that was rolled by one of the girls working the establishment. Lifting the corner of his cards he'd nod...

"I'm in."

...and toss a few more credits into the pot and so on it went. He didn't know who Alicia was, he didn't know what she looked like; he didn't know if she was a Pilot, a Smuggler or something else, all he knew was that she was the one when he was given a name. Now he had to wait, he was given coordinates on where to meet her; she knew he had a job for her and she'd decide whether it was worth her time or not.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Undercover Smuggler
Weapons: Blasters

The cantina was the kind that smelled like old credits, spilled booze, and danger waiting to unfold.

She didn't walk in — she strode, like she belonged. The doors hissed shut behind her, swallowing the street noise outside as heavy bass thumped through the floor. Her steps were measured, boots quiet against the metal, but there was nothing subtle about her presence. She drew eyes. Not because she sought them — but because she wore confidence like a second skin.

She looked striking: fit, with sun-kissed skin dusted by smudges of grease and grit from travel. Her shirt clung tightly under a leather harness that fit like it was made for her — sleeves rolled up, collar teasingly open and laced at the chest, with a holster slung low against snug brown trousers that had seen more than one close call. Fingerless gloves covered her hands, and her long, dark hair was tied back in a high ponytail, though a few rebellious strands curled down to frame a face too sharp and knowing for this kind of place.

A faint scar marked her face, and the eyes — a flame, edged with amusement — scanned the crowd like a predator in no hurry. She found the sabacc table easily. Sliding through the smoke and dim lighting, Alicia moved with practiced casualness — not flashy, not aggressive. Just someone who knew exactly how to navigate places like this. When she reached the table, she didn't ask. She sat.

Right across from him.

A soft creak of leather as she leaned back in her chair, resting one gloved hand casually on her thigh, near the holstered blaster that wasn't just for show.

"Ordan, I presume," she said smoothly, voice warm but edged with curiosity.

Ordan Vosk ​

 

[Ordan Vosk]

Midvayne
Valery Noble ​

---

There was a lull at the table. Like a calm in the action, the tranquil center of a raging storm the players all waited to reveal their hands. Funny how a game of sabacc could turn as serious, as deadly as a showdown in the back alley between gangers and turks over whose territory was whose.

No one said a word until a distinctly feminine voice broke the calm, injecting itself into the quiet.

"Depends on who's asking."

...he hadn't even looked up from his cards, peering down he'd kept them lifted just an inch so that he could see underneath them.

The Rodian called first illiciting groans for the other players, the Near Humans and Sullustan folded but Ordan, wearing a sly grin looked up and prepared to call before his eyes set on the woman who'd sat herself across the table from him. Looking at her it was clear that he was regarding her, drinking in her appearance from the way she had her hair tied back to the lacing of her shirt and the way one of her hands hovered lower, across her thigh and near her blaster. She certainly moved like she belonged, acted like she owned a spot at the table too indicating that this was her element.

Now as for Ordan he was larged, thick muscles but his features were weathered and his hair was graying. He had marks on his face, his neck that were the remnants of various injuries; cuts, burns, etc. He wore a long jacket that curled under his thighs all the way down to the back of his knees opening just enough to reveal a worn and faded tunic underneath, like her he had fingerless gloves. No one in a cantina like this went unarmed but 'Alicia' wouldn't be able to see what he was packing, it was hidden inside of his jacket.

Finally Ordan revealed his hand eliciting a groan from the others at the table, Pure Sabacc. Leaning forward Ordan would reach out, spreading his arms to collect the credits thrown into the pot before pulling them back towards himself on the opposite side of the table. Once he was upright again, sitting backwards easily the mood would shift causing the others to leave the table and leave him and 'Alicia' alone....

"Course I always have time for a pretty face."

...he smiled, the expression didn't dilute the roughness of his features as he stared across at her...

"Do you play?"

...his gaze veered towards the cards then returned to her...

"Or are you strictly business, Alicia?"

...he surmised her identity once he'd seen her, he'd heard she was attractive --- honestly, she appeared to attractive to have lived a life in the Underworld, almost like another Platt Okeefe.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Undercover Smuggler
Weapons: Blasters

A slow, knowing smile curved across Alicia's lips as the others cleared out, leaving only the two of them at the table. Her eyes flicked down at the cards, then up again — locking onto his with a look that said she wasn't here to waste time. She leaned forward just slightly, resting one elbow on the table and letting the edge of a smirk play at her mouth. Confidence, charm — it was all calculated, all part of the game. In the right rooms, being underestimated was a weapon.

"I play," she said simply, her voice smooth with a hint of gravel behind it. "But I don't usually do it for fun."

Her gloved fingers tapped the table twice, slow and deliberate. She didn't reach for her credits just yet — not until she knew what kind of hand this really was.

"You wanted me here. You got me." Her gaze narrowed ever so slightly, just enough to sharpen her edge. "Now let's deal straight. What kind of job makes you look for someone with my reputation?"

She didn't blink. Not once.

Not while the real game started.

Ordan Vosk ​

 

[Ordan Vosk]

Midvayne
Valery Noble ​

---

Gathering all of the cards left behind Ordan began to shuffle the deck while 'Alicia' leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table as she offered him a knowing smirk.

He enjoyed a woman that knew what she wanted.

Once she'd tapped the table twice and narrowed her eyes he dealt, starting with her until each of them had two cards then he'd set the deck in the center of the table.

Leaning back in his chair Ordan lifted his cards, peering under them before his gaze returned to the woman who sat across from him...

"Straight to business."

...he chuckled...

"I can tell we're going to be friends."

...but she was right, he'd wanted her and now here she was so Ordan began to elaborate the job he needed her for...

"You ever been to Florrum?"

...he paused, grunting once as he thought of the desolate world...

"Nasty place, lots of rocky desert and barren land. Pirates use it sometimes."

...as did other Underworld Organizations, its location in the Outter Rim meant it was out of the way. He'd been in the past, a long time ago when he was working heavily with the Black Sun and wouldn't normally consider going back.

Studying the reaction of 'Alicia', her expression as he spoke as though he were looking for something, a subtle sign of recognition or anything he went on...

"Not long ago I heard a Hutt Cartel Underboss unearthed some salvage there, a crashed ship from a life time ago. Anyways the ship was rusted out, most of the tech was useless now but there were some pods that were intact and functional."

...he let that sink in momentarily...

"No one knows what's inside, could be relics or nothing. I heard rumor that said it could be people. The Underboss can't open them on Florrum though and needs to transport them back to Nal Hutta. That's where you come in, I need a good smuggler with a fast ship so that I can beat the Hutts to Florum and leave before they figure out what's going on."

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Undercover Smuggler
Weapons: Blasters

Alicia's eyes narrowed slightly, but not in suspicion — in interest.

"Florrum," she repeated, leaning back in her chair just enough for her body to relax while her mind went into overdrive. Her fingers toyed with the corner of one of her cards, but she didn't look down. She was watching him — gauging the tone behind every word, the weight he gave to each detail.

"Pirates, desert, and some buried mystery Hutt salvage..." she mused aloud, voice smooth, tinged with that gravel again. "Sounds like just the kind of mess I'd crawl through." She tilted her head slightly, as if mentally tracing the route to Florrum. She knew the region. Knew the way those jobs worked. Hutt space didn't play fair, but neither did she.

A smirk tugged at the edge of her lips.

"You want fast, quiet, and untraceable?" Her gaze met his again, steady, bold. "You've got it. My ship's fast enough to make the run and small enough to stay off their scopes. If the cargo's hot, I'll get it out of Florrum before the Hutts know you've been."

Then, a pause — her tone dropped, just a touch more serious.

"But you said the pods might have people in them." She didn't sound squeamish, just calculating now. "If we open them, and it's not scrap — it's survivors — you got a plan for that?" She tapped the table again. A beat. Her version of a tell.

"Because I'll take the job, Ordan. No question. But I don't like surprises."

Her smirk returned, faint but dangerous.

"Unless I'm the one delivering them."

In reality, she had gone through stasis herself. So the idea of finding others who had gone through the same... it was just a little unnerving.

Ordan Vosk ​

 

[Ordan Vosk]

Midvayne
Valery Noble ​

---

"An extra blaster never hurts either."

...he added alongside quiet, fast and untraceable. Ordan wanted 'Alicia' to know that she might be expected to draw the weapon she had holstered over her hip. To this point there were only two of them, he had access to an armory and the credits to pay for services but he needed her ship.

Why did he need 'Alicia'? Because he didn't know her. Because she had a reliable reputation. If Ordan called on the ties he maintained in the Black Sun or the Hutt Cartels it would likely cause a conflict that couldn't be hidden, draw the attention of to many parties. No one wanted the Alliance to send a Picket to investigate or draw the attention of Mandalorians.

As the conversation turned back to the Pods, specifically what their contents could have been his response hinged on her own expression. He had no doubt she was the one who liked giving the surprises rather than being surprised. She'd tapped the table again, he'd noticed.

"We're not savages, Alicia."

...he said...

"We're not slavers either."

...he smiled, thinly but it was apparent...

"If we find anyone in the pods we'll open them up, for better or for worse."

...she had to know what he was saying. Opening those pods could also release something better left locked away. There were a thousand reasons someone might be in stasis and not all of them were good.

If she had any reservations now was the time to tell him.

Turning over his cards, settling on a dry draw rather than chancing another card from the Sabacc deck Ordan revealed his hand and a score of '19' which wasn't altogether terrible. Gazing at her he waited to see her hand while remarking...

"Now about your fee."

...and he'd wait, open to hearing what it cost to hire a Smuggler of her reputation and talent.

​

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Undercover Smuggler
Weapons: Blasters

Alicia's fingers hovered above her cards for just a second longer before she turned them over — a sly, clean spread with a calm 20 that nudged just past his hand. She didn't gloat. Didn't grin. She just let the silence sit between them for a beat, her gaze steady on his, then reached out and pulled the pot of credits toward her side of the table with two fingers and a ghost of a smirk.

"Expenses," she said simply, stacking the credits more out of habit than greed. "And reputation." She leaned back again, not to relax, but to signal something more important — comfort with the deal. Confidence in the job. And a quiet acknowledgment that she didn't need to haggle when she already knew her worth.

"You cover fuel, dock clearances, bribes if they come up — and if this run goes well, I want the good word spread." In reality, she cared about nothing but the people inside those pods, but she wasn't going to reveal that.

Then she tapped the table again. Not a tell, not this time. Just punctuation.

"As for the pods… good." Her voice dipped lower, more thoughtful. "I don't run with slavers. Never have." A beat passed as her amber eyes darkened slightly, the weight of a personal history flickering just behind them. "And if what's inside isn't salvage but someone with breath still in their lungs, we handle it like we mean it."

She let that hang in the air for a moment — the quiet weight of principle, just enough to make clear that beneath the smuggler charm was someone who'd draw that blaster for more than just credits.

"Now," she added, her tone lightening with a flicker of amusement, "You get me the coordinates, the timeline, and how hot this job might get... and I'll get you to Florrum."

She picked up the rest of her drink — his drink — and finished it without flinching.

"First one's still on you."

Ordan Vosk ​

 

[Ordan Vosk]

Midvayne | Valery Noble ​

---

'Alicia' revealed her hand. It showed a 20, one higher than Ordan's own. There was a brief grunt, he didn't like to lose but if he had to it might as well have been to someone like her. You know the type; attractive, confident and with the laces on her shirt just loose enough to make her curves a bit more distracting than they already were.

Taking a few credits from his pile he tossed them to her, her winnings.

Expenses. Reputation. She worked cheaper than some of the other names he knew but what set her apart from them was her name. Clearly her name was good enough that she could pick and choose her own jobs. It made her intriguing since not many Smugglers could do that.

Listening, nodding his head to acknowledge what she'd said Ordan would have replied...

"Exactly what I planned to do."

...he wasn't lying, there was a rugged sincerity about him that she would be able to sense though what she wouldn't know what he knew a bit more than he was telling her. Nothing for certain but there had been other rumors, information that had been passed to him. Not something that he expected would be an issue though.

She took his drink, downing the rest of it. He liked her bravado. She had character.

Reaching into his jacket Ordan would produce a datastick which he held up for her to see...

"Geography, we might catch them in the midst of transporting the cargo."

...easier to refer to the pods as cargo before they knew for certain what was inside of them...

"None of this is common knowledge yet. Not on the sub channels and not on the wire. Our timeline is now while everyone else is still in the dark. Now why don't I grab us a bottle of nog and you show me your ship, it's a long ways to Florrum."

...he tossed her the datastick, his hands set themselves across the tableface and Ordan was pressing up into a standing position. Once he was on his feet he was prepared to buy that bottle, then he looked forward to following her out of this dive...

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Undercover Smuggler
Weapons: Blasters

Alicia caught the datastick midair with a flick of her fingers, her eyes scanning it just long enough to register the weight of the job they were stepping into. Then she looked back up at him — calm, assured, the smirk returning like a flicker of sunlight through smoke.

"Then we're on the clock," she said smoothly, tucking the datastick away in a side pocket just beneath the strap of her holster.

At his offer, her brow quirked. "Nog, hm?" she mused, rising to her feet with the same easy grace she'd carried into the room. Her gloved fingers ran lightly over the edge of the table as she stepped around it, brushing past him on her way to the door. She didn't need to answer the invitation — the glint in her eyes said she was already leading the way.

"Grab the bottle, then we'll head to the ship."

She stepped into the dry air without looking back, hips swaying with that confident stride, and made her way across the cracked duracrete toward the nearby hangar. Inside, her ship waited: a heavily modified civilian shuttle, matte gray with faint carbon scoring from past close calls. Its silhouette was sleek — stripped down and rebuilt with speed in mind, sporting a compact dorsal turret and modified thrusters.

She gave the hull a fond pat as the hangar lights flicked overhead.

"She's not flashy, but she'll get us to Florrum faster than anything else in this sector. And she bites back if someone gets too close." Turning back toward the entrance, she crossed her arms and leaned against the ramp with a faint smile, waiting for Ordan to join her — and for the bottle he promised.

"Time to see if your story's worth the fuel."

Ordan Vosk ​

 

[Ordan Vosk]

Midvayne | Valery Noble ​

---

Nog wasn't difficult to come by but it was an acquired taste. Made cheap there were those who swore it could fuel a landspeeder but people tended to drink it for the effect rather than the taste. A few credits and the bartender at the cantina produced a bottle from underneath the bar, one of the better ones from a select stash that only select clientele were welcome to.

Back in the Hangar, Ordan arrived shortly after 'Alicia'.

His gaze instinctively went to the Shuttle she identified as her own, heavily modified it possessed the kind of sleek looking frame that complimented its pilot. After his eyes turned back towards her as he approached...

"Good to know."

...a sly smile touched the corner of his mouth causing his rugged features to shift...

"Does her pilot bite back too?"

...in the Underworld you had to take chances, usually in the form of jobs but this meant that there was no shortage of boldness in many of the denizens living there.

Coming closer, Ordan held up the bottle and offered it to her...

"If this doesn't get your motor running I don't know what will."

...another chuckle, then his eyes moved towards the ramp that lead up into the shuttle...

"How about a tour, then we can open that bottle after you put us into hyperspace."

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Undercover Smuggler
Weapons: Blasters

Alicia's smirk deepened at his boldness — not offended, not surprised. Her eyes flicked over him as he held up the bottle, and the corners of her lips curved like a sabacc player who already knew how the hand would end.

"Oh, I bite back," she said smoothly, voice low and warm, laced with just enough threat to make it interesting.

She stepped up the ramp, her hips swaying with deliberate confidence as the hangar lights danced off her trousers and the curve of her holster. The inside of the shuttle was exactly what the exterior promised — lean, practical, but tuned to the needs of someone who didn't run from trouble so much as steer into it. The walls bore faint scarring, the kind only a smuggler's life could leave. But the controls were polished, the systems humming clean. This wasn't just a ship — it was a weapon with a flight path.

She walked him through it briefly — the tight cockpit with its reinforced shields and custom nav suite, the small armory tucked beside the medbay, and the compact bunk that promised just enough room for bad decisions and nowhere to hide from them after.

Then she led him to the galley — if you could call it that — and the small central table nestled into the heart of the ship. It was old, circular, and battle-scarred, like the kind you'd find in a hundred cantinas across the Rim, but hers bore a faint etching in the corner — a personal mark.

She dropped into the seat with an effortless motion and leaned back, arm stretched along the back of the booth, eyes fixed on him with playful expectation.

"Well?" she said, one brow arching as she reached out toward the bottle. "You bringing that over, or were you planning to keep me thirsty the whole flight?"

Ordan Vosk ​

 

[Ordan Vosk]

She wouldn't see it but his features transformed into a rough smile. An amount of satisfaction was showing through after he'd heard her comment. He followed up the ramp of her ship paying close attention to what was swaying ahead of him.

The tour didn't reveal anything unexpected. He'd been in a hundred Smuggler's ships, just not any captained by someone so easy on the eyes. The Shuttle was old but well maintained, a sign that 'Alicia' cared for her ship and that her reputation hadn't been exaggerated.

Of course, he didn't miss the compact bunk.

Once they'd moved into the galley he watched as 'Alicia' found her seat with a relaxed ease. He was still near, close to her. As she reached for the bottle, still secure in the palm of his hand he'd pull it away...

"Not so fast."

...he said...

"Maybe I want to keep you thirsty a bit longer."

...then he'd raise the bottle, press it to his mouth and pull the cork out with his teeth before turning his head and spitting it to the side.

The Nog burned when it hit his throat but Ordan swallowed it without complaint, his features didn't even change in the slightest.

As he lowered the bottle he'd take a step towards her, moving closer until he was standing beside her and within an intimate distance. Gazing down at her he'd have said...

"Let me."

...before reaching for her, he may have read something in the way she moved and the look they'd shared. Maybe it was nothing, maybe it was everything. Setting a hand on the back of her neck his fingers played against her hair, urging her to tilt her head back while he took the bottle and let it hover over her mouth so that he could tilt it and let the liquor flow until she'd had her fill.

Valery Noble ​

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Undercover Smuggler
Weapons: Blasters

Alicia didn't flinch when his hand found the back of her neck — if anything, her body eased into the touch, chin tilting up with a lazy sort of defiance that made it clear: she was letting him, not submitting. Her lips parted slightly, the glint in her eyes sharp with amusement and challenge both.

The nog poured smooth and hot, and she drank without hesitation, the burn hitting her tongue like fire and spice and memory. Just enough. No more. Her hand came up to gently guide the bottle away, lips glistening faintly as she swallowed and leaned back into the seat once more.

A slow exhale left her mouth before she lifted a hand to wipe her lips with the back of her glove, eyes never leaving his.

Then came the smirk — not sweet, not safe.

"Careful," she murmured, voice husky from the drink. "Start pouring drinks like that, and I might start expecting dinner after."

She reached out to pluck the bottle from his hand, setting it down with a soft clink on the table between them. Her gaze lingered, just long enough to make the space between them feel even smaller.

"You're bold, which I like. Perfect for our little mission."

Ordan Vosk ​

 

[Ordan Vosk]

The Bottle pulled from her mouth as she guided it away, soon she'd have claimed it for herself and set it down on the table between them.

Ordan didn't protest.

He liked a woman who could handle herself, handle her liquor, etc. He also liked the way her gaze had lingered on him. She looked smaller in his silhouette as he loomed over her, his hand sliding against the back of her neck having never drawn away.

"That could be my plan."

...he said, referencing her comment about dinner...

"Who wouldn't like to feed you?"

...he could think of a thousand men who wouldn't turn her down and a thousand more who wouldn't have the stones to approach her at all. Perfect, that meant he was one of the few that had what it took to do both.

Eyes roamed her, eager to know more about her. All he knew was her name, which he already surmised was fake and the reputation that preceded her; she was a professional. Other men might hesitate, he would not.

There was a spark between them, unbidden but also undeniable.

"It's a long way to Florrum."

...he started to say, suggesting maybe if there was a droid on board it could begin the flight plan for them and set them on their way.

His hand slid from the back of her neck down to her shoulder and then to her arm, his other reached for her so that he could pull her up out and her seat until she pressed against him. Her chest crushed against his, then he'd move to swing her around and lay her back over the table while he loomed over her. His hands grabbed for her, touching her, exploring.

Valery Noble​