The Devil's Silver Tongue

[Bartleby Orem]

In the days since he'd come back to Coruscant, Orem had busied himself with various paperwork; partly out of a mild, simmering anger at how the Director of Imperial Intelligence had so easily brushed him aside. He'd always been nothing but loyal, yet Esalis had chosen to extend a hand of... kindness? to K'vik. The force-user was a menace, and the Director was treating her as though she was a guest!

And now; now was a further injustice in his own mind. Being sent to K'vik's new quarters to fetch the woman for another meeting with Esalis. He was no lackey, but he was also committed to his duty, and so the Imperial stoically obeyed.

His stride took him through what seemed to be a maze of corridors, up into the higher levels of an unassuming apartment complex that rose with the upper echelon scrapers that shaped Coruscant's skyline.

His polished boots and crisp, wrinkle-free grey uniform were immaculate. He was the very picture of Imperial order.

Stopping in front of a door marked 730E-K, Orem took a breath through clenched teeth before reaching a hand out to depress the door chime.

[Milivikal k'Vik]

She was not a contortionist, but her flexibility was rather beyond average. The bottom of Mili's torso was six inches below her ankles, supported by pillows. Her body was nearly flat of on the floor. She poured over the available information that Esalis had provided on Prent and his crew, and on the current state of the galaxy.

The Director had been surprisingly forthcoming with information, and had also been generous with Intel's training facilities, with one important exception: no live weapons were to be in her presence. Some of the equipment that had been created in the centuries she had missed was rather interesting. After embarrassing a few of the Empire's finest, Mili was politely shooed away to allow the scheduled training regimen continue.

The chime sounded, and Mili made no move to turn down the well composed pop tune that played at a comfortable, background volume. She could hear him breathing through the door, and pushed the open/close toggle with the Force.

“What is it, Bartleby?” She asked as the door slid open, her voice thrown from the ceiling. Milivikal pushed her torso six inches above the floor and brought her legs over her head and rolled to her feet in a fluid motion.

“Well?” She asked, hands on her hips.

[Bartleby Orem]

It grated on his ears to hear her use his name. No one used his name; not even what pitiful few friends he had. And to listen as this woman called him just that, he idly wished for his stun baton. His hands clutched each other at the small of his back, and he refused to look at her. Instead, Orem stared straight ahead into the interior of the front room. He refused to step inside; to do so would mean - to him at least - that he approved of her newfound status.

And as much as her using his name was unacceptable, her voice itself was without a doubt alluring. Not enough to pull at him completely however.

He cleared his throat.

"The Director wishes to know if you have finished reading the materials that she provided."

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Milivikal paused, enjoying his discomfort. It was the least she could do after all he had done to her. The ugly bruises and shock marks still showed on her porcelain skin revealed by her halter. Look at me, you parasite, and understand the mistakes you made. His eyes flickered over her briefly, but his will took back over quickly. He would be a tough one.

“Please inform the Director that I have read all of the material provided.” She answered, her voice as smooth and warm as the finest Corellian whiskey.

[Bartleby Orem]

Orem clenched the muscles of his jaw. In the brief glance he'd taken of her, it was obvious that his marks were still upon her. His marks. His handiwork. And he was proud of them. He'd marred her once clean skin and taken pleasure in it. And, for the briefest of moments, he took pleasure in seeing them still manifested.

Professionalism took ahold of him once more.

"She wishes to know then, if you feel well enough to begin searching for Mr. Prent."

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Obviously the Director's other machinations had failed to produce anything. Prent was, by most measures, a seemingly average man who was traveling with a rather exceptional Jedi. Prent was not all he seemed, Milivikal concluded. A man who wielded a Maladorian Shell Gun and shot the Imperial Director of Intelligence drew that conclusion for her. Aside from his mechanic/co-pilot companion, Cirreseeto, a burly Cizerack, and someone who was likely another Jedi, the rest of the crew was a mystery.

One thing k'Vik did not fully understand was why Esalis wanted a Lupine so badly. There were other intelligents in the Galaxy that could change form.

“I am well enough.” No thanks to you. Her cold, light blue eyes bore at him like an artic wind.

[Bartleby Orem]

It was then that Orem did look at her. His eyes locked with hers, and his face remained impassive as he stared - now unabashedly - into her clear blue gaze. He blinked, then allowed a tight-lipped smirk to play across his features.

A bow, and he took a step inside, closing the door behind him.

"Since that is the case, I will wait for you to dress yourself. Director Esalis wished to meet with you once you were finished. And seeing as how you are... "

He let his voice trail off, and breathed in deeply as his hands once more resumed their position behind his back.

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Never much for modesty, Milivikal stripped and changed quickly to more conventional undergarments than the restrictive halter and leggings.

Esalis had provided several uniforms tailor cut to Milivikal's slender measurements. The custom cut hugged her tighter than a standard issue would. All were black, per the Director's request. She pulled one on over the skintight undershirt. She looked herself over, and smiled at Orem.

“I think,” She said, with a slight pause, “that this suits me better than it does you.”

[Bartleby Orem]

Eyes narrowing, Orem moved his arms from his back to cross them over his chest as he gave her a gruff harrumph.

"That uniform does not make you an Imperial."

His voice became almost gravelly as he went on.

"You can play dress-up with the Director's gifts all you want, but that changes nothing. You're a disposable tool; nothing more, nothing less.

"Don't over-inflate your ego any more than you already have.

"Now. Put your boots on."

[Milivikal k'Vik]

“My ego?” Milivikal snorted, a sound she managed to make border on pleasant. She slid her boots on, and the door opened itself up again.

“Do not fool yourself, Bartleby” she watched him cringe ever so slightly. “you are presently even more disposable to your Director than I. Better to be a tool than an unwitting, over-eager pet.” The disdain in her voice was evident.

[Bartleby Orem]

Allowing K'vik to exit first, Orem followed after her at a clipped pace that brought him beside her.

"I would caution you, Milivikal," he stressed her own first name as she had his, "... to not mistake a single part of the machine as dispensible. I may be only a single gear in the Imperial engine, but you are an outside, foreign object." The low rumble of disapproval was blatant in his tone.

They stepped into the lift that would take them down to the complex's lobby.

"I am continually needed, whereas you... " he reached out to press the touchpad, and the doors whooshed shut.

"... are not."

[Milivikal k'Vik]

She stared at him, numerous strings of insulting language vying for attention, but her face remained impassive. Instead, she chose to hold her tounge. How could anyone boast of being a cog?

Milivikal said no more, but instead flashed him a wicked white grin before they were clear of the lift.

Out of the lift, she held her head confidently. She was going to bring the Director her Lupine.

[Bartleby Orem]

As they walked across the lobby to the double doors leading outside, Orem took a small bit of satisfaction from Mili's silence. She had a barbed tongue, and for his own peace of mind he had avoided her. Which made it a bit more than a chore when the Director had ordered him to chaffeur K'vik to this most recent meeting.

He opened the door, almost stepped through first, then thought the better of it. Instead, he held it open and motioned for Mili to go through first.

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Mili inclined her head politely and slipped through the door.

She moved crisply and smoothly until she was standing before the Director in front of her desk. Seeing Esalis made Milivikal yearn for her saber. It was an elegant weapon perfectly matched to herself.

Yet she waited for the Director to speak, sensing it was the wiser course of action. k'Vik could rain her impulsivity in if needed.

[R. S. Esalis]

During the time that K'vik had been reading and studying the files given to her, Esalis had been healing. She no longer needed a cane to walk, and what little residual chest pains she had were quickly fading.

Sitting behind her desk, the Director of Imperial Intelligence did not look up from her reading as the door opened to admit Mili and Orem. Her desk, usually free of clutter and other various datapads, was now scattered with loose leaf hardcopies, 'pads, datacrystals, and every other imaginable item one would think of as being associated with an intelligence agency. It was obvious that Esalis had poured herself into her work.

But her eyes were still sharp, and the gentle lines of her face belied her true nature.

Without looking up, Esalis spoke.

"You have finished reading the materials I sent to you then?"

[Milivikal k'Vik]

"I have." Milivikal stated. If Esalis wanted her out in the field, that was fine with her. Jabbing at the dullard Orem lost it's lustre quickly. Imperial cheerleading was nauseating. She pulled her hands behind her back to keep from fidgeting, or smacking Orem for being such a twit.

Fortunately, the Director rarely dallied without need, so Mili hoped she would be on her way soon.

[R. S. Esalis]

"Very good."

Esalis looked up then, and leaned back in her seat. Her eyes locked with Mili's; ice blue with ice blue. Pursing her lips, the Director let her hands rest palm-down on the desktop while breaking her gaze from K'vik's to look past her at Orem. The man stood at attention, his eyes forward without meeting Esalis'.

Turning her attention back to Mili, she went on.

"Do you have any preferences on what ship you use."

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Milivikal paused.

"I must be smaller than a bulk freighter and I must to be able to fly it alone. I have no other requirements." k'Vik answered. The ship never really played much of a role in her plan. In a pinch, she could manage a ship designed to be piloted by three, but it was not something she enjoyed doing. The solo pilot requirement meant it would likely be smaller than 100 meters in length, which was good. She had limited experience with larger ships.

[R. S. Esalis]

Esalis nodded, never taking her eyes from the other woman.

"And what tools do you desire."

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Milivikal's choice of tools were far more planned than her choice of ship.

"I have a list." She produced a data chit from her jacket. Most of it was pedestrian. A good blaster rifle, a hand blaster, a few standard Imperial survival kits, food, liquids, boots, and similar. The normal "very long trip" essentials. However, there were some more exotic choices, like a pair of somewhat obscure throwing knives, two hundred meters of climbing cord, and a minimalist jewelers kit.