There are no authorities to arrest Laadu. Nowhere Starkiller can take him to find justice. Darth Vader's voice rings in his mind, demanding he show no mercy, demanding he kill him and be done with it. There was a time when he would have listened, but he is not that man anymore. He must find another way.

Once he's sure he isn't being followed, he turns towards the outskirts.

"I'm coming back to the ship," he says. "We'll figure out our next move then."

"Roger that," Ahsoka says.

He keeps the throttle down hard, going over open desert. Somewhere along the way, Laadu had passed out. Just as well, Starkiller was sick of the screaming. Only the moon and the headlamp of the bike cut through the complete darkness of the desert. Though he could navigate in complete darkness thanks to the force. The wind rushes through his short hair, whistles past his ears, and he breathes deep, letting his mind wander, searching for a solution as the speeder cruises on through the night.

(******)

The Shadow finally comes into view, the hatch opens and the ramp drops down. Ahsoka stands on the ramp, waiting for them, arms crossed, her lips curled into a small smile. After parking and securing the bike, they stuff their prisoner into a large crate and lock it from the outside, making sure he can't escape, then Starkiller and his companions gather in the cockpit to discuss their next move.

"What shall we do, sir?" Rex says.

"We can't just execute him," Ahsoka says.

Starkiller resists glaring at her. Does she truly have such a low opinion of him? He sighs. Perhaps he deserves it.

"Every day Rotta the Hutt sends massive shipments of supplies up to the blockade," he says.

"Yeah," Ahsoka says, "we've been monitoring those shipments since the blockade went up. So?"

Starkiller shrugs. "So, we're going to stash Laadu in one of their containers. When he's discovered on the ship-"

"They'll think he's trying to stowaway," Rex says. "They'll flog him and throw him in the brig." He smiles proudly at Starkiller.

Ahsoka nods. "Brilliant."
Heat flashes across his face at their compliments, but something in her voice makes his chest hot, too. He resists the urge clear his throat, letting out a slow breath.

"With the protection rackets temporarily out of commission," Rex says, "Rotta will be hurting for money, The mercenaries and extra muscle can't be cheap."

"If he's not profitable, Interimo will stop supporting him, won't he?" Ahsoka says.

Starkiller nods a yes. "If it gets bad enough, he will probably replace Rotta altogether, make a big example out of him."
He rests his chin on his fist, ideas forming. Ahsoka looks his way, catching his eye. She hesitates, chewing the corner of her lower lip.

"What are you thinking?" she finally asks.

He grins. "I'm thinking if we make Rotta desperate enough, we can flip him."

"Turn him against Interimo?" Rex says.

"When we make it clear he's failed, he'll have no other choice but to side with us," Ahsoka says.

"And with his inside knowledge of the operation, we can cripple it," Rex says.

Starkiller nods. "It's a start."

"What's our next step?" Ahsoka says.
He turns to his computer console in the cockpit and starts looking over the info they've collected.

"I need to have a talk with Rotta," he says.

"How?" she says. "He's holed up in his palace with hundreds of guards and probably bounty hunters and assassins."
He wants to shake his head. Have they no faith in me?

"Look," he says nodding to the screen.

Ahsoka crosses the cockpit to stand over his shoulder. She leans down, resting her hand on his opposite shoulder, her breath tickles his cheek as she reads his display.

She scoffs, but remains over his shoulder. "What is Rotta doing throwing a gala at a time like this?"

"A gala?" Rex says.

"He's inviting every socialite on Tatooine to his palace for a grand party," Ahsoka says, still leaning over Starkiller. "Why would he do that?"

"Because he wants to convince his superiors that everything is in hand," Rex says.

"With his whole organization on the run, who would come?" Ahsoka says.

"No doubt they've been threatened into showing," Rex says.

Starkiller chuckles. "It's a trap." Rex nods his agreement. Ahsoka turns to look at Starkiller, her face still just a few inches from his. He tries to ignore her nearness and continues, "Rotta knows this opportunity is too good to pass up. He may as well have sent me an invitation."

"Kill two birds with one stone," Rex says. "Ballsy."

"If it's a trap," Ahsoka says next to Starkiller's ear, "then you can't go."
He wonders why they still doubt him so; have they not witnessed his skill? His hands ball into fists at the memories of Vader, always criticizing him, never happy— never satisfied. No matter how he tried, he could never please his dark master. Anger rises in his chest. He is not worthless! He opens his mouth to speak, but she speaks over him.

"You're not going alone," she says. "I'm coming with you."
He catches her reflection in the screen before him. Her crystal-blue eyes wide, concerned, imploring. She doesn't doubt his skills, she fears for his safety. He almost can't remember the last time someone else cared like that.

He takes a slow breath and leans to the side so he can face her. "I have a plan."
Ahsoka gazes into his eyes, then raises an eyebrow and steps away, crossing her arms.

"What's the plan?" Rex says.

Starkiller says, "Spring the trap."

(******)

Ahsoka

She fidgets, standing next to Starkiller in the night, wearing a baby-blue dress with white lace around the chest and shoulders.

This is insane! she thinks, wondering how he'd talked her into it. His plan as it turned out had been to attend the party as guests, posing as socialites— not at all what she'd expected. She figured they'd roll in lightsabers drawn, try to cause as much chaos as possible, and make it away with Rotta in tow— certainly not something so risky as this; unarmed and waltzing through the front door.

Ludicrous! she thinks. Completely and utterly mad.

A quick talk with Laadu had given them all the info they needed to pass security inspections, and then a stop at the tailor for the formal wear. When she'd first put the dress on- despite her reservations about the plan- she couldn't help but smile at her reflection in the floor mirror. She'd seen many politicians and celebrities dressed in all matter of finery, but never had she herself gotten to wear anything so fine.

Starkiller sighs next to her, wearing a classic black suit with a black tie. It isn't what she's accustomed to seeing. On Coruscant most men favored the formal gown-like robes that the chancellor wore all the time. It shouldn't surprise her that Starkiller is different, and she can't help but notice that he is rather fetching in that suit, though he'd be rather fetching in anythin-

"Ready?" his voice breaks her out of her thoughts.

She clears her throat, sending the thought to the far reaches of her mind. "Ready."
Before them a crowd moves slowly in front of Rotta's palace. She and Starkiller follow the crowd up a wide pathway going slightly up hill. Armed guards stand on each side of the pathway, guns at the ready. Her heart speeds up, and she tries to ignore her reservations about the plan. For this to work they need to go in with no weapons. If someone spots Starkiller, it's all over. Their plan is completely contingent on hiding in plain sight.

She gulps and loops her arm through the crux of his elbow, stepping over to walk closer to him; in order to better sell their cover, she tells herself. His muscles tense for a flash, then go relaxed. She steals a sideways glance at him.

He's the picture of calm. If he's nervous about walking into a pit of vipers unarmed, he isn't showing it. The ground levels out and the crowd in front of them stop at a high sandstone wall with a small gate. Starting at the front, guards start waving scanner wands over the guests, checking them for weapons and electronic devices, then sending them through the gate.

She lets out a slow breath and hopes Starkiller was right about how to smuggle in the datadrive. She prays none of the guards recognize him while they search him. Her mind keeps alert, plotting escape routes and noting every single movement of every single person in the vicinity. If the guards get too nosy, distract them, she tells herself.

"Ever done anything like this before?" she says.

"A few times. You?"

She smirks. "A few times."
He gives her an approving nod, then eyes forward. She smiles to herself, recalling some of the tight spots she'd gotten into in the past, and then her friends come to mind, erasing her smile. She throws the grief to the far reaches of her mind. She has a job to do.

Focus on the job.
Soon, their turn has almost come. She drops his arm and takes a half step away. He opens his hand, a small datadrive no larger than his thumb falls slowly towards the ground, hovering just an inch above the sandstone pavement. The drive is black, making it hard to spot in the night even if you're looking for it. He steps forward, leaving the drive hovering where it is. A guard comes and instructs him to put his arms out. He does and the guard scans his torso, both arms, then his legs.

He nods and Starkiller steps forward. As the guard turns his attention to Ahsoka, Starkiller pulls the drive along the ground until it nearly hits his ankle, then rips it up into his hand. The guard instructs Ahsoka as he did Starkiller. She puts her arms out and the guard passes the wand over her body, then nods and she rejoins Starkiller. This time he offers her his arm with a smile. She takes it and they head through the gate together. They cross a vast courtyard, heading up steps on a now winding path.

As suspected, the people don't seem happy to be here, many grumbling, some constantly checking over their shoulders as if they search for a ghost. She resists a chuckle, knowing Starkiller is that ghost. They walk along until finally they reach the high double doored entrance of the palace. It takes three guards on each door to push them open.

"Enjoy your evening, ladies and gentlemen," a guard says.
Then a white haired man wearing a red gown-like robe beckons all the guests inside. They are lead through tan hallways with large intricate tapestries adorning the walls. Guards pace about, but far less frequently than outside. The halls feel like a maze, but Ahsoka had downloaded and memorized the layout before coming. Minutes later, they are ushered into a ballroom. People of all species bustle about, drinking, eating, laughing, dancing.

Red gowned servers line the walls, waiting to be called on. A band plays stringed instruments on a small stage in the corner. Starkiller leads Ahsoka to the bar at the opposite corner of the room. They sit at one of the small tables near the bar. Sweet stringed music fills the air, if not for the present situation she could lose herself in the music for hours.

"How long do we wait?" she says.

"Until Rex gives us the signal."

She nods and scans the room again. "What do we do until then?"

"Look the part."
A server leaves two glasses of champagne on their table as he passes. She picks one up with a chuckle.

Look the part.

She stops scanning the room and her eyes settle on his. "I think I can manage that."
She smiles and takes a small sip. He returns her gaze, looking at ease, but there's an intensity in his eyes- there seems to always be.

"So, she says.

"So."
She resists a grumble. Though they've been cooperating and training for weeks, it occurs to her that she knows little of the man sitting before her— little beyond his skill and how he acquired it. But how can she get him to open up?

"Where were you born?" she says.

He raises an eyebrow. "Why do you want to know?"
She fights a wave of nerves, sipping her champagne to give herself a second to think.

"Just trying to make conversation," she says. "Like you said, we might be here for a while. Looking the part means actually talking."
He nods and looks away, then rubs his chin, thinking. She watches, waiting, her lips turned up into an awkward grin.

"I don't know," he says. "My parents were already on the run when I was born."

"Oh." She smiles sadly, regretting the question.

"It's okay," he says. "I don't remember them."
She let's out a small sigh of relief, thankful she hadn't offended him.
"You don't remember them at all?" she says.

"The only memory I have of my father is his murder." He lowers his voice. "Try as he might, Vader could never completely erase it from my mind."

Her heart goes out to him before she can stop it. The thought that they have a lot in common shoves its way to the surface.

"I don't remember my parents either," she says.

His intense eyes widen a little, his expression softens. "I thought you started your jedi training around three?"

"That's right." She nods. "But my parents had abandoned me long before that, if master Plo hadn't discovered me I'd-" she stops, unwilling to finish the thought. "I'm surprised you didn't know."

"It wasn't mentioned in your file," he says. "Vader never talked much, and he talked about you even less."
She takes another sip of champagne, loving the bubbles.

What must his childhood have been like? She wants to ask about it, wants to ask how Vader treated him, wants to know if it was as bad as she imagines it is. Though she knows the answer is most definitely worse.

Try as she might to accept it, she still doesn't want to believe her master could have done the things Starkiller claims. Anakin had been such a great hero of the Republic, how could he turn his back on them? How could he stab them in the back— murder them— murder them all?
But deep down, she knows the darkness he was capable of. She knew him better than most, perhaps better than all. The darkness in him was strong, his capacity for anger and violence was sometimes frightening, but most of all there was a selfishness.

She had tried to ignore it, told herself she was wrong, but deep down she knew the truth: Anakin was prideful, jealous, and arrogant. He had a burning desire to prove himself the best and greatest, and he criticized the council constantly, always thinking he knew better, always thinking they were old and weak. She always suspected he had feelings for senator Amidala; even implied it to his face when she said her goodbyes. But to find out they had been secretly married all along.

All those lectures he gave her about controlling her feelings— what an enormous hypocrite he was!

"You look troubled," Starkiller says.

She nearly flinches, snapping back to reality. "Oh, uh…" she trails off. "It's uh… It's nothing."
His eyes hold hers, boring into her like he can read her soul. Frenzied butterflies wreak havoc in her stomach, and she resists a strong tremble of her hands. Her frazzled mind scrambles for something to say, some kind of answer, but she just sits there, mouth slightly open waiting for the brain to catch up.

"I'm sorry," Starkiller says, taking her by surprise.

"Huh?" she says before meaning to, then hastily adds, "Why?"

Smooth, Ahsoka.

"Because," he says, "I brought Vader up again."

"No, no," she says. "Don't be sorry." He searches her expression. She offers the most sincere, reassuring smile that she can. "It's fine. Honest."

"Look, I understand how difficult it must be for you trying to reconcile the man you knew with the man he became."

She takes another sip and sighs. "Though I appreciate your consideration, it isn't necessary. And while it may be difficult for me, I imagine it's far more difficult for you; I was taken in, raised, cared for. But you- you were a… a…"

"A slave," he says. "You can say it. Though I do appreciate your consideration."
His ease puts her at ease, and the teasing way he mirrored her words puts a stupid grin on her face.

The music swells, she takes another sip of champagne, the bubbles tickling her lips, and still his eyes hold hers. She swallows involuntarily, her chest heating up and her heart starting to race. Must be the champagne, she thinks; though she's had less than half a glass.

Must be good champagne, she thinks.
Finally, he looks away. She lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and sighs. What's the matter with her? She pushes the champagne a little further from herself, resolving not to have anymore for a while, then goes about scoping the room again. Still no sign of Rex. When she turns back, she nearly flinches to find Starkiller looking her way.

She smiles nervously and wishes she could think of something to say. He takes his champagne flute and sniffs it, then takes a small taste.

"Good," he says.

"Yeah."
They fall into another awkward silence, each just looking at the other and around the room. She lets the music wash over her, takes another sip of champagne, licks her lips, and looks back at him. He stares off into the crowd of dancing people. She wonders how many times he's done this kind of thing, how lonely it must have been to have woken up in a time not his own, and with no one to call a friend. She ponders why his eyes hold hers so-

"Back when I was a prisoner," he says, breaking her out of her thoughts. "They would have lavish parties like this after each time I fought in the arena."
She hadn't made the connection.

Idiot, she curses herself. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"You know," she says. "Bad memories."

He grunts and nods. "I've got plenty of those." He smiles warmly.
She feels a fresh heat hit her cheeks. She nods and looks back to the doors.

"What about you?" he says.

She turns back to him. "What about me?"

"Have you ever been to parties like these?"

"Back on Coruscant," she says. "I drew guard duty for the Chancellor's fundraisers and stuff like that, so I've been to some."

"But never as a guest?" he says.

"No," she says. "Never as a guest."
The band finishes their song, a Twi'lek woman joins them onstage. They start playing slowly and quietly, gradually building until the Twi'lek woman begins singing along. Her voice compliments the sweet strings just right. Suddenly Starkiller is at her side. She hadn't seen him move.

He extends his hand. "May I have this dance?"
Butterflies assault her stomach again, and her heart pounds. Never has such an innocent question affected her so. She decides not to drink any more champagne ever.

His eyes hold hers like a magnet until she finds her head nodding a small yes of its own will. Her hand takes his and he pulls her to her feet.

Oh, Force, she thinks. What is the matter with me?

(*******)

Starkiller

Her sapphire eyes drill into his. He tries to ignore them. Her hand feels so warm in his, but he tries to ignore it, too. They walk to the dance floor, then face each other. She gazes timidly at him as she steps closer until they stand nearly toe to toe. He wraps his arm around her waist, and she puts her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not the best dancer," she all but whispers.

"You're a jedi, and a great fighter. You'll do fine."
He picks up the beat and starts off, gliding across the floor. She glides with him in perfect step.

"Told you," he says.
She grins, and he has to resist a swallow.

Get a grip.
The singer's smooth vocals caress the whole room at once and the strings harmonize with it, forming a powerful effect.

He leans forward to whisper in her ear. "A lot of guards are dressed as guests."
He feels her tense and as he leans back he sees her eyes are closed. She opens them and slowly nods that she understood. Back when he was a prisoner, the dance floor was always the best place to view the room without being obvious, though dancing with criminal socialites had felt nothing like this.

He's had to dance more than a few times, he'd thought nothing of using it as a guise to get a better angle of the room, but holding her in his arms isn't like he expected it to be. Why is his body reacting this way? Everything feels warm, he's breathing but can't seem to draw air, when she looks at him his heart jumps into his throat. And he is all-too-aware of her body in his arms. Her nearness is intoxicating.

It's just the music, he thinks. The champagne, the ballroom, and Ahsoka. He decides with the potent combination that you'd have to be dead not to feel some nerves. He tells himself it's just nerves, and things start going back into focus for him. He scopes the room and sighs, leaning forward to whisper in her ear again.

"We're being watched," he says.

She tenses in his arms. "You're sure?"
She looks up at him and he nods a yes.

She squeezes his hand and shoulder a little tighter. "What's the plan-"
Glass shatters somewhere across the room, someone squeals, Starkiller's heart all but explodes.

Crap. Now what?
A waiter bends down, picking up glass shards and a fallen tray. The waiter looks up, catching Starkiller's eye.

"Rex," Ahsoka says.

"Told you that you would know his signal when you saw it."
She laughs and gives his shoulder a playful yet forceful punch, then wraps her arm back around him. He hesitates, lost for a second, then picks the beat back up and they glide across the floor, heading toward the opposite side of the room, where the door that leads deeper into the palace is.

They break apart as they near the edge of the dance floor, though she keeps her arm looped through his as they walk.

Maintaining our cover, he thinks.
As they approach the large open doorway a guard standing next to it moves to intercept them.

"We're welcome to roam," Starkiller says with a wave of his hand.

"You're welcome to roam," the guard says.
Starkiller dips his head and they enter the hallway. The music and noise from the crowd dims as the proceed through the empty halls.

He can't help but smile to himself. Everything is going according to plan-
His heart drops, sensing a presence behind them. He reaches for his lightsaber before realizing he doesn't have it. He opens his mouth to warn Ahsoka, then he's ripped the side, the wind leaving his body as his back crashes into a wall.

(*******)

Ahsoka

She senses a presence behind them. Whoever had been watching must be following them. The hallway splits to the left just ahead, if her memory serves her right, it's just an alcove before the door to the janitor's closet. No time to waste, she grabs Starkiller and rips him into the alcove. To the right there's only a few feet of wall before the door to the closet. She shoves him into the wall, and steps up to him, their bodies nearly touching, her face just inches from his. Her heart pounds and aches. Every part of her body tingles, and feels alive. He grimaces, then his eyes shoot wide when they fix on her.

He raises a questioning eyebrow, but she has no time to explain. Her pursuers are upon them. Summoning every bit of courage she has, she closes what little distance that remains, pressing her body fully against his. She looks into his suddenly timid eyes, then she closes hers and captures his lips with her own. His whole body tenses against hers and he stands frozen. Doubt seizes her heart-

Then he kisses her back, his hands stroking her back and her neck.

Fire brushes her lips, and fresh waves of tingling goosebumps emerge in every spot his hands touch.
Two people; a man and a woman walk down the hall toward them, each trying to be quiet. This is it, Ahsoka thinks; either they'll think they're a couple who snuck off for some alone time, or she and Starkiller will have to fight. He pulls her closer to him with one hand while the other strokes her lekku, making her toes curl as she fists his suit jacket, gripping the material as hard as she can.

The pursuers look to each other, shrug, then start to retreat down the hallway. She can feel his heart beating against her chest, and his lips still move in time with hers. Once she's sure their pursuers are out of earshot, she slowly pulls away, breathing heavily. She nearly falls, her legs trembling. Yet somehow she manages to stay upright.

"Sorry," she says. "I had to act fast."
She turns away from him, not wanting him to see her blushing and embarrassed.

That was…

She hadn't meant for it to be like that. She meant to fool the guards, that's all. She hadn't intended to- didn't mean to- can't believe that she- enjoyed it so much. The thought brings more butterflies to her already frenzied stomach, and more heat to her already flaming face. She kissed him!

And it was amazing! She curses herself. Stop it! Stop right there!
She was just in the moment. Maybe she'd had a bit too much champagne- maybe her anxiety about the mission heightened certain sensations.

Maybe he's just an amazing kisser-
She coughs out loud, mentally screaming at herself to get a grip.

He clears his throat. "Quick thinking."
Risking a glance back, she sees that he stands perfectly upright, controlled. His face is passive, stoic. If the kiss phased him as it did her, he isn't showing it. The thought distresses her for an unknown reason. Why should she care if he enjoyed kissing her? It was just to fool the guards, and she isn't interested in him anyway, so why does she care?

He clears his throat again, and she notices how red his face is, and his controlled posture is too stiff. The kiss had phased him. She smiles to herself, feeling somehow wonderful, but not knowing why.

"Let's move," she says.
He nods and off they go, now jogging through the halls. She speeds up, leading the way through the maze-like corridors. They finally reach their destination: the locked room that houses the security mainframe.

"It's locked," she says.

"Won't be a problem." He reaches his hand toward the key-pad, eyes closed, concentrating.
Without moving his fingers, buttons on the pad light up, then the pad turns green and the doors whoosh open. There are six guards in the room. None of them pay them any mind as the pair stroll to the access console in the far end of the room, stepping over the sleeping forms of the guards.

"Rex's poison has done it's job, I see," Ahsoka says.

"They'll be out for hours."
Half eaten plates of food and empty bottles of wine sit beside tech consoles. Starkiller sweeps a half eaten loaf of bread off the center console, bringing up the holo interface. He types rapidly, scrolling through directories and systems, then he plugs the data drive into the console. A small box of text appears with a meter rapidly filling up.

"Too easy," Ahsoka says.

"Don't jinx it."
The meter fills, then completes. He rips the drive out, motions towards the door and they head out. She jumps ahead again, leading him back the way they'd come. She breathes deeply, listening to their footfalls echoing off the walls. A wide smile breaks out across her face. Sneaking into mobster tyrant's palace, mingling with the crowd, walking into a trap, breaking into the tyrant's security mainframe, making out with a striking former Sith.

The Jedi code would condemn these actions. Mere weeks ago she would have too. But now?
Never has she felt so alive, so free. Starkiller runs beside her, and she can feel his joy, too. They round a corner. A sea of guards stand at the ready.

"Halt!" one shouts.
Her eyes pop wide, she grabs Starkiller's arm and rips him back around the corner.

"This way!" she says.
They bolt towards another hallway, running fast. She opens her senses, and can feel more and more guards everywhere. She stops.

"We're surrounded," she says.

He smirks. "Their mistake."

Author's Note

Hey! How is everyone doing? Sorry it's been so long; it was never my intention to leave this sit as long as I did. To be perfectly honest, writing has been really difficult this past year for a myriad of reasons. I miss writing this story, and I miss hearing from you all. So, that was Part Eleven. How'd I do? What did you think? Reviews are always welcome and so very appreciated.

Thanks to all readers, followers, favoriters, and especially the reviewers. You're all super awesome, and I'm so thankful for your interest in the story. I hope I get the next part up soon.

Thanks again, all. I hope life finds you all well.

mojo

*Edited for some typing errors as of Sep 8, 2015