Some months later…
Sandra, in a classic cocktail black dress, looks in the mirror as she prepares for a Ball for the Mon Calamari republic soldiers and engineers. The choker is tied nice and securely, hair let down, and just the right shades of black accented liner and shadow. When done, she stares in the mirror for a moment…
“It is strange…to look in the mirror and to see someone you do not mind looking back at. I wonder what everyone would think of me now? Might be a mix of opinions, but I think it is well.”
Sandra slips the short saber hilt down the center of her chest, tucked up front out of sight, and with one final check, she goes to slip on her black heels, lacing the straps up her shin.
She steps out side of her hotel room in the city, and a limo pulls up just at 5pm, on the millisecond. Sandra steps inside and looks to Bernie who is leaning back casually against the seats.
“Used to be these things would be far more simple. Simple black seats, an arm rest bar, and leg ups. Look at this now, like a spice rave in a speeder. This what the kids like?”
“…A little color in one’s life is not so bad.”
“I hate these parties. Formality is a pain in the ass. Every time Bart brings his husband, he always gets awkwardly perky and loud. Stacy always ends up with a crowd and it just gets awkward when the boys and girls fight over her. People are strange creatures. Just give me a criminal with a goal, and i’ll tell you 40 ways on how to deal with it.”
“It is better to sit at the bar and chat with the bartender. Usually the smartest person in the room…”
Bernie takes out his blaster and gives it a once over. Sandra crosses her legs then folds her hands in her lap to also sit in silence. The trip to the Grand Ballroom of the Zoracchi Hotel in Mon Cal’s Manor District is grand. A single island just off the coast lays the abstract design. Long lines are formed on all sides as ships slip in and out to ferry people to its lavished environment.
The interior is a lavished cascade of water on each room, falling down to the center in a gorgeous display, then pumped up back to the top again to create an elegant continuation of modern design.
Most are dressed in various form of military formality. All sorts of ranks and other military types invited as guests are also in attendance. The air of the place reeks of lavished lifestyle, bright smiles, and a fair greetings to many of those in or around the republic ‘family’, so to speak. Sandra and Bernie enter when their time comes, her arm around his in formality as they make their way into the central chamber on the mid deck. This open air platform with an orange statue of the architect is a gorgeous and egotistical stand out in the all white platform.
The bar infront of the statue serves hundreds of drinks at one time as various bartenders move about. Waiters and waitresses move in and out of the hotel proper to refill stations in perfect sync. The pair make their way to a standing side of the bar and both order a whiskey on the rocks.
“…So many people, soldiers, and the likes. Uncomfortable.”
“Get on past it, Mana. Even we troublemakers have to put on display and face sometimes. The kind of diplomatic shit i’m sure you had to do when you were a Robe.”
“Was a pain. Any wrong word could have meant serious issues. I would not wish it on any one…”
“Didn’t invite the hubby?” He smirks at her.
Sandra rolls her eyes and sips her drink.
“Just doing my own thing today…”
“I get it. It’s hard to get used to that life when you’re used to always being on your own. Must be a shorter line of suckers now that you’re married. How is that like?”
“…A crude question. Pretty much none now. Though the occasional venturer, but otherwise it is pleasant to have my own business minded while I do some reflecting. Had a bit of a religious experience the other week and has made me thing about what Balance in myself and decisions are. Hard to explain to atheist like you, hehe…”
“Don’t hate the player, Mana. Magic shit ain’t my thing. Only magic I do is having 90 arms and reaching all over wihile only looking like I have two. Neat trick i’d say. Let’s go mingle. Won’t learn anything about nothing on the side lines.”
“Understood…”
“Loosen up a bit. Have some of that young people fun that your people keep telling you to have, hahaha!”
“…I will try.” She takes a deep breath
The pair walk about greeting various strangers. The vibe in the room is aloof, playful, energetic, and welcoming as the classical music plays in the background. Dancers on the floor are enjoying their ballroom fun as others are either drinking, mingling, or having locker room like laughs in the corners. Everything feels in slower motion to Sandra, the room in her mind is black and white, her eyes grazing everyone a moment as the pair walk around white platform. For a moment she blinks… and the platform is empty of all life.
A hand runs through her hair as muddled words and whispers still touch her senses as they are all filtered out. For a moment, there is a calm amidst the platform in her mind. Her arm is gently touched and suddenly all the people, color, and life returns. Her eyes dart to a fellow who seems a commander rank of sorts. He is slightly taken aback by the piercing gaze…
“Hello, miss. Commander Laza of Mon Cal’s instillation base 243. A pleasure to meet you.”
“…Sandra. Mon Cal Consulate secretary. I work for Bernie here, head of security.”
“Nice to meet you both. I hate to steal your partner in crime away, but may I have a dance, Miss Sandra? I would surely like to chat you up and see what lays beneath such eyes.”
Sandra looks to Bernie and he looks back to her. He raises a brow, she narrows her lips, he narrows his eyes, she peeks aside, he nods and then she peeks to the fellow…
“Very well, we may do so.”
Sandra leaves Bernie’s arm and goes to take the Commander’s. Bernie smirks and goes to do a bit more meandering and greetings. The pair reach the dance floor and begin a fair waltz. He asks simple questions about where she’s from, what brings her to the event, and so on. Her answers are short, simple, and somewhat un-engaging.
“I hope I am not boring you, Miss Sandra.”
“Apologies, I am… not usually one for conversations. Kind of an introvert…”
“I think I understand. It’s alright, no problem. I hope you enjoyed the dance at least, haha.”
“It was wonderful, Commander. You are a gentleman and I adored being engaged pleasantly. Please enjoy the rest of your evening, Commander Laza.”
“A blessed night to you.”
Sandra leaves the dance floor and runs a hand through her hair. A polite fellow. She looks on the crowd and studies them quietly for a while before heading inside the hotel proper…
The quiet redhead walks through the ocean of guests to the upper veranda above the bar, looking about quietly as she leans on the railing. Some fellows smile to her and she waves back on occasion or perks a shoulder. Her eyes peek over to Bernie who is next to her suddenly, leaning on the same bar.
“Bernie…”
“Mana.”
They stare at the crowd together for 30 mins before Sandra narrows her eyes a slight, a bad feeling building up in her stomach. Her eyes dart to a series of individuals who are chatting in a corner. About 12 of them…
“Bernie, the group over there. Something is not right…”
Spies are trained to keep track of multiple conversations at the same time. Standing alone as you eavesdrop is too obvious. You need to engage in a cover conversation near your target. Pure lip-reading takes years to master. But confirming what you’re hearing by checking lips is a much easier skill to pick up.
Bernie pats her shoulder and she nods, both heading down to meander near the group. They fake chuckle and talk about wine as they listen to the conversation. Bernie picks up some odd phrases that don’t seem to fit any sort of conversational means. Something about wolves in the crystal light and after this line…
“Bernie!”
“MANA!”
Party Music…? Click~
Blasters are drawn as the 12 ring out shots all over the lobby randomly into the dozens of people. Some officers draw their blasters, looking for where, but some are met with the initiative of the 12…
"FOR THE SITH!"
Sandra draws her lightsaber from her chest and cuts some arms off in a single swing, Bernie starts heading by the bar behind him as he ducks and fires off into the 12. There’s more screaming in the distance as Sandra curses, darting through the remainder of the surprise attackers, leaving them as amputated remains on the floor. Bernie runs to to a side corridor where various republic are in a shoot out across the white bridge between the building that connects the hovering white circle outside. As they reach the bridge’s opening, several Sith decloak and fire at the backs of the soldiers taking cover.
She dashes by to deflect the shots away from their backs while Bernie fires on them. As another wave pushes to cross the bridge, taking and shooting at those in the center, Commander Laza behind the golden statue calls out a rallying call, getting civilians behind it and the bar as best he can.
Sandra Force Pulls a blaster from a fallen soldier. She bends Bernie down to make him evade a blaster shot, rolls over him to fire at one of the attackers, and when he stands they are back to back firing into the crowds tactically.
“It’s a little hard to tell who’s a friendly when everyone is wearing nearly the same damn thing, Mana! Who planned this?! Dammit!”
“…9:30”
“Mine or yours?”
“Yours…”
He fires exactly so and a Sith goes down.
“8:35…”
He fires again and hits another in the crowd.
“9:15, by the pot…”
Bernie hits a fellow in the chest and is rendered useless.
“Magic bullshit is something else.”
Sandra deflects a bolt and fires on a Sith who decides to come out of cover to change positions without suppressive fire. Another is looked at, and he’s thrown aside like a toy with little care to where he lands.
When a pro plans an ambush, they capitalize on the element of surprise.
They attack aggressively so their opponent has to react from a place of weakness.
The commander rallies a movement to take the center of the bridge, as officers inside finally organize and coordinate. The commander moves to the center bridge as the right side of the entry is flanked by officers, pinching the Sith.
“We need to make sure the republic flankers don’t get flanked themselves. Let’s move around this floor around the outer end of the hotel back to the other side.”
“Understood…”
“HEY, SOLDIERS! Flanking tactics, push around the exterior, ON ME!”
“Who the hell are you?” One of the soldiers calls out.
“Black Ops, you in or you wanna die tonight?”
“OoRah! Is that a goddamn Jedi in heels?”
“Who cares, get to it!” Bernie shouts out.
The group starts making their way from the left side of the building around the way to the right, picking off stragglers as they go, finally meeting back with the flanking group pinching on the Sith at the doorway.
“This is Commander Laza! Push in with the building team! Suppressive fire!”
“YES, SIR!” Various call out.
The bridge team pushes into the open, firing on the doorway. The building team presses in when their flank is cleared by Bernie’s team.
With some comms coordination, the bridge team and hotel team collide with the east bridge’s Sith, and are promptly removed from ability to retaliate.
======================
When the storm has settled, security teams check the other floors of the hotel for the next few hours as guests are organized, wounded are checked, and all else is done…
Sandra leans against a wall and pushes some hair from her face, sighing sadly and heavily as she watches med teams and improv doctors go around. Bernie comes over and leans on the wall with her and gives an upward nod.
“You good, Mana?”
“I am well enough…”
“Pain in the ass.”
“…Mm.”
“Got an evac landing in a few minutes, need a ride?”
“I will stay for a while, but thank you…”
“Alright, take it easy, you hear.”
“Likewise…”
Bernie looks on her a moment and gives a nod. She gives a thin smile before he heads off. Sandra studies the passing crowds for a time before heading to one of the washrooms.
She sets the random blaster on one side of the sink and the saber on the other.
The water of the sink is turned on. Sandra looks in mirror and lets the water run on her hands as the quiet of the fancy washroom echos the sink’s water gently. A soft sigh escapes before looking down to the water falling into the abyss.
“…Just how it goes, I suppose.”
Sandra picks up her lightsaber and goes to sit in a corner, sliding back against the wall to the floor, and tapping the saber gently against her thigh as she ponders… letting the anxiety and adrenaline fizz away into obscurity…
