A Spy Story

Clone and Gungan: Spies at Large
(by: reulte)

Stone felt uncomfortable without his blaster, he felt uncomfortable without his red-trimmed armor and he felt kriffing uncomfortable without his helmet keeping him in touch with everything going on throughout his command and territory.

MI-23 had given him some trinkets from their experimental shop but nothing with the heft and stopping power of his DC-15S blasters and Commander Stone had almost been sorry he had volunteered. Still, they said it could be dangerous and there was almost no danger in his daily duties as security escort for Senate dignitaries and planetary diplomats.

"Remember," said the tall, spindly Twi'lek known as Qek as he handed over the last of the items - a lighter that was a neural paralyzer as well as useful for starting fires, "an agent is only as good as his gadgets." He had already handed over a holo-recorder/stress detector/laser disguised as a designer chronograph which rested heavily on Stone's wrist and, of all the ridiculousness, a comm unit built into the polished luxury gundark-hide half-boots he wore. What did they expect him to do? Walk around with a shoe to his ear?

Stone decided that MI-23 watched too many of those silly Bames Jond adventure holovids he heard about; with incredible gadgets, improbable plots and evil geniuses. A few of his troopers enjoyed them but Stone preferred his manuals. Stone did not consider a sense of humor a valuable asset to a clonetrooper.

Leaning only slightly against the bar, Stone assessed the situation; the room, the people, the possibilities. It was the Royale; the most expensive resort-hotel in Coruscant. Above him was the curved bubble of an anti-gravity pool focusing the light onto the stage. Other lights were spaced discretely around the lobby/nightclub/casino providing areas of cool brightness interspersed with shadows. None of the tables were empty though only one table had a single person.

He was to recognize the contact by the code words 'Have you ever been invited to a night at the opera?'. Stone decided MI-23 definitely watched too many Bames Jond holos.

He eyed the woman at the nearest table, alone listening to the singer. But not because he thought she was his contact. Her lithe body swayed gently in time to the music, her eyes half-closed in pleasure and she was wearing a filmy concoction that looked like a large sheet of damp, translucent flimsi around her lean body. There appeared to be no fastenings and the material seemingly held on to her body with so many crisscrossed ribbons and bands that he had to ask.

"How do you get into that," he gestured his hand to the dress.

She turned more fully to him, her jade-colored eyes sweeping from his wide shoulders to his trim waist - her eyes lingering on his groin for longer than Stone through necessary for a full assessment of his gender - and moved on down to his muscular thighs.

"Buying me a drink is a good start," she purred, her eyelids fluttering demurely.

Stone had seen that look - though never directed at the anonymous escort in white armor - a measuring, devouring look that women gave some of the politicians; some of the powerful or royal principals he escorted like Prince Bail Organa or the Chancellor himself.

He dropped his shoulders a bit, displaying the strength of his arms and the depth of his chest and it took him a moment to realize he was showing off for her; preening like a wookie in front of its mate, but he turned and made eye contact with one of the waiters. The waiters in a place this exclusive had to pay attention and this one was no exception; he was already at Stone's elbow, nodding his head deferentially as Stone seated himself next to the woman.

"Sir?"

Stone turned toward the woman, gesturing lightly with his hand, one eyebrow raised in question. She smiled, ordered a Maybe This Evening and moved slightly closer to him. Under the table, he could feel her foot lightly stroking his shin with her ankle. After the first moment of shock, Stone had to admit to himself that he liked it.

"You've shaved your head," she smiled knowingly and Stone wondered what she was talking about. "I like it," she continued in a whisper moving closer, "it's sexier; shows off those lovely bedroom eyes of yours."

Kriff, any closer and she'd be in his lap, possibly hindering him in his duties.

She dropped her hand to one of his thighs, giving a delighted sigh at the hardness of his muscles, sliding her hand closer to...

Oh, double-kriff. That would be definite obstacle in his duties though he had a thought that it might make him growl and beat his chest like a male wookie in his prime.

No, he was on business. He put his hand on hers and, mimicking what he'd once seen Prince Organa do, brought it up to his lips to kiss her fingertips. "I'm sorry, my dear duchess, this is neither the time nor place for such frivolities."

Her eyes brightened and there was a sharp inhale in her breath. "You're on the track of another Seppie spy," it was the tiniest whisper oddly juxtaposed with quiet excitement and Stone frowned.

MI-23 had explained his unwanted mission was the highest compartmental secrecy.

Her lips tightened and she was blinking back tears. "I won't say anything..." she glanced around, her eyes big and round." Just a kiss?"

Okeeeyy, maybe he didn't know what she was referring to but he hadn't been offered too many kisses before and, in fact, this was the first...

She didn't wait for him to finish his mental calculation before she pressed her lips - and Stone had to admit they were soft, warm, moist, delicious lips - against his.

There was a smile curling Stone's face as she stood, caressing his cheek with a painted fingertip. "I think you're a brave agent to tackle a Trandoshan bare-handed," then she turned and was gone. Stone raised an eyebrow quizzically. What was she referring to? Then he shrugged. It must have been a case of mistaken identity - and with two million identical brothers it certainly was possible. Stone felt a hint of regret that she wasn't his contact. It was the best kiss he'd had in a decade.

The sultry-voiced singer bathed in the blue light from the pool had finished her song, bowed out and the band was playing now. Several couples moved to the dance floor. Unnoticed by all but Stone and the bartender, the singer had come into the room by a side door and moved to the bar. She was dressed in something that also looked as if it were held to her body by the Force; or perhaps micro-magnets or skin glue but certainly not anything as prosaic as buttons, snaps, zippers or gravity. A crystal jewel dangled from a slender gold chain, kissing her skin and occasionally peeping from the low neckline of her dress. There was a glass waiting for her, three quarters filled with a clear liquid. She took it and gracefully moved to his table - the only one occupied by a single person rather than a group or, more often, a couple.

"You sing beautifully," Stone stated nothing more than fact as his eyes scanned the crowd.

"Thank you," she replied graciously as she sipped her drink. "I actually studied to be an operatic contra-alto." She looked at him with eyes of deepest blue and Stone was quite sure he'd fallen in love.

How delightful, he thought, falling in love twice in ten minutes. His mind went into cold calculation at her next words.

"Have you ever been invited to a night at the opera?"

"I prefer symphony myself," Stone spoke the counter-code. "Particularly the arpeligion movement of E-eel's Fourth Water Symphony. Purple monkey dishwasher." He let the words hang in the air for a moment then improvised with a smile, "but if you're inviting, I think I could manage to enjoy anything."

Before she could answer, there was a loud crash and voices raised in anger - patrons, not the quiet wait staff - and a happy voice rang out.

"Messa sorry."

Stone's lips tightened as he recognized the voice. He didn't dislike the Gungan representative but he was on-duty, working an assignment like patrolling the Senate or escorting a diplomatic entourage.

"Da fog was thick and dense," intoned Jar Jar to Stone's ear in a whisper no one could fail to notice.

"Like your brain, Representative," replied Stone, covering his eyes with his hand and rubbing the spot between his eyebrows. Was there anyone who did not know about this assignment?

"No, no, messa use code, confuse and confound enemy. So no one understands."

"That's a given most days, Jar Jar," Stone sighed.

She glanced up. "You know him?" she asked Stone in an amused voice.

"Not socially," Stone sighed. "His name is Jar Jar. He embarrasses people."

"Binks," the umber-colored Gungan in the sharp, elegant tuxedo replied, rolling his lips back showing his teeth in a grin. "Jar Jar Binks."

Stone had wanted his clothing in the distinguished dark rust-red of the Coruscant Guards but the head of MI-23 who went by the unlikely moniker of Mem, had told Stone that black was the only color for this type of clothing. If it made Representative Binks reasonably dignified then perhaps MI-23 wasn't as ignorant as he'd originally thought.

Her eyes looked worried as Jar Jar sat between them. She gave her head a small shake. "They didn't mention two agents."

"I'll vouch for him," Stone tried to censor the words coming from his lips. Perhaps Jar Jar would prove as useful here as he had on Florrum though if the Representative were injured in any way Stone could foresee a long, solitary assignment far from the bright center of the galaxy.

The singer nodded, accepting Stone's words. "They're going to kill me."

"Who?" demanded Stone in a hard voice.

"Thasa wrong," explained Jar Jar to no one who was listening.

Her shoulders came up in a shrug. "His lot. Your lot," she looked into his eyes; hers seemed soft and vulnerable. "Whoever gets to me first." Her eyelashes fluttered and Stone felt his heart flutter as well. "I'm innocent," she asserted then a small smile curled the corner of her lips and she tilted her face to Stone. "Within reason."

She put one hand on the table - awfully close to Stone's and he was amazed at the comparison between her slim, elegant fingers and his own square-tipped, blunt fingers.

"I'm small-time," she began, "to supplement my singing here. I specialize in being invited places. Sometimes I simply case the house to come back later, other times I might take just a few small items. Nothing too valuable." She glanced at them, nibbling her lower lip and Stone had the oddest impression she was amused. "My mother takes in laundry, my brother is mostly dead, his wife is crippled. His children are on the brink of starvation." She sniffed and swallowed back her tears, determined to continue. "My pet muut is pregnant and... well, you don't want to hear all my troubles." She covered her lips with those slim, elegant fingers but tears shone in her eyes.

"Aw." Jar Jar's ears drooped and he leaned forward to touch the singer on the hand she had on the table. "Thasa so sad." Then Jar Jar perked up and gestured to Stone and himself. "S'ok, we take care of you."

"You haven't said what you saw or took that could get you killed." Stone pointed out.

She glanced around and put her hand on his arm leaning to whisper in his ear. "We can't talk here." Stone almost missed her words as the warm air she exhaled in his ear almost made him forget his mission.

Mission? What mission? Stone blinked his eyes and brought his mission to mind. Meet some double-agent contact of the Separatists and collect some important plans.

Then he felt the rounded barrel of a small blaster in his ribs. Stiffly he rose and gestured Representative Binks to go first, making sure to keep his body between that blaster and the Representative; making sure the Representative didn't even see or suspect she was armed.

Easily he could have taken the blaster from her and Stone was reasonably sure he could do so with no damage to Binks, himself or her. However, she seemed to be leading them someplace to get the plans and that was the assignment.

They went through several doors and corridors, up an ascender into the suite area of the luxury resort.

"In there," she commanded, "the door code is 1701."

Representative Binks opened the door, followed by Stone and the woman with the blaster. It was a large suite befitting the luxury Royale. There was a bedroom back there, a reasonably small enclosed area for the kitchen droid to one side and a centrally located meeting room with a marble table, wooden chairs and leather sofa.

As she turned, her hand came up slightly, holding the small but deadly blaster away from Stone's ribs but now covering them both. "My apologies, gentlemen. I wasn't sure you'd accept a formal invitation."

Representative Binks bounded over to the balcony. "Desa pool," he pointed down and Stone was glad his attention was taken by something outside.

"There's always something formal about the point of a pistol," he murmured softly for her ears only. He could take her, but Stone couldn't be sure Representative Binks wouldn't end up a casualty. He'd need to wait for a better moment. She was nervous and her hand shook slightly. "May I sit?" Stone gestured softly to a chair. He'd seem less intimidating seated and be slightly further away from Representative...

"Yessa, we sit and talk." Jar Jar moved back into the room between Stone and the blaster. Stone's gut jerked, seeing that lone, long assignment to nowhere start to materialize but she lowered the hand holding the weapon and nodded.

"It was a country house; a few nobility, minor politicians and more nouveau riche. A good place for me to..." she nibbled at her lower lip. Stone would have preferred he nibble it for her.

"It was just a small jewel; pretty and perfect." She frowned and her chin trembled delicately. "Men leave but jewels are forever. How was I to know it was a miniature holochron? How was I to know he'd hidden the plans for galactic domination in a small crystal?"

Wrapping her fingers around the crystal necklace, she quickly pulled the chain over her head and dangled it for a moment. Stone reached his hand, palm up, under the crystal and she dropped it to his waiting fingers.

"I want to be safe from him," she said softly, her eyes filled with tears. "Please, it's all I want." Again she nibbled her lower lip and spoke again. "And a pardon. And maybe just a small apartment?" She smiled softly and tilted her face to bring it close to Stone cheek.

"I'm sorry, I can't promise you anything like that." Stone was nothing if not honestly direct.

She straightened, sighed mournfully then turned, "They're yours, Dr. Vindi," she said, her voice no longer quite as sultry as it was sad, and the bedroom door opened.

"Yousa wicked spy," exclaimed Jar Jar to her as he jumped to his feet. Just as quickly, Stone was on his feet and between the representative and the array of firepower peering from the doorway.

"Sit down," commanded a battledroid and Stone had no option other than to tug Jar Jar into a chair behind Stone and sit.

"I'm sorry," she said and Stone got the feeling there was some regret buried deep... real deep... in the crystal stone she had in place of a heart. She kissed him softly on his temple. "Fifty-eight," she murmured as her finger touched the tattoo on his left temple. "Will you tell me what it's for?"

"Part of my name," Stone hummed as her lips drifted to his ear. She may have been wicked, but she was delightfully wicked. "I got assigned my command before they could finish the tattoo and I had to rush to battle. Been too busy since then to fill it the rest."

"What is the rest?"

"Sixty-nine."

She blinked and her lips turned into a wry grin. She leaned back and looked him in the eyes then bent and kissed his lips as her fingers caressed behind his ears. "Don't finish it," she requested, "let me be the only woman who knows that." Her fingers continued caressing his face then dropped as she moved away from him, closer to the door.

From behind the battledroids and the human bodyguard emerged a lean, blue Faust.

Stone stared at Dr. Vindi; infamous virologist who had tried to re-animate the Blue Shadow virus. An insanely lethal criminal to add to Dooku's coterie of evil.

Beside him the human; large and muscular, was rubbing his fisted knuckles in anticipation. He grinned, showing terrible dentistry. Definitely from a long line of villains - their health plans never included dental. Three other figures proved to be B1 battledroids, armed of course.

"Mr. Vindi," began Jar Jar angrily but the Faustian villain interrupted him with a sharply gestured finger.

"That's Doctor Vindi to you," he giggled in his madness. "My parents didn't send me to medical school to be called 'mister'."

"Youssa mad, sir."

Stone flinched. No mad scientists liked to hear that. Especially when it was so evidently true.

"No, nononono, no," laughed Vindi, "Mad? Mad? I am not ewen wery angry."

Stone relaxed into nonchalance as he dusted a non-existence speck from his cuff with the back of his fingers.

"Give up, Dr. Vindi. I've already contacted MI-23 and even as we speak they've surrounded the building."

Vindi laughed. "I don't beweeve you."

"Would you believe a squadron of police droids?

"Unlikely," retorted the insane, cerulean scientist.

Stone sighed. "Would you believe an angry waiter I owe for a Maybe This Evening?"

Dr. Vindi opened his mouth to scoff then turned to the human bodyguard, whispering loudly. "Leave some cwedits for the waiter." He glared at Stone. "I bussed tables my first year of grad school." He raised a finger. "It's hard work, let me tell you, and no one wants to tip well." He giggled again, "nonononono... no. When I rule the galaxy, patrons will tip wery well. Or they'll be dead."

"Yousa, sir, should use your evil genius for niceness," admonished Jar Jar, still standing at the table.

The bodyguard opened the datapad and programmed a tip for the waiter. As he did so, the blaster in his hand was tucked under his arm and no longer pointed at them.

As he looked into the face of the datapad, his attention diverted for a bare moment, Jar Jar jumped - one of those long leaps that Gungans were capable of - and knocked into the bodyguard, scrabbling as the man dropped the blaster.

The singer gasped. "He's so impetuous."

"Yes," replied Stone, "he's an idiot."

Quickly he pressed his lips to hers in a hurried kiss - the first he'd ever given. "If you leave now, you might survive," he whispered even as he wanted her to stay and continue kissing him. "He has us and that will keep him..."

She was already gone, slipping away from Stone's lips, his hands no longer resting on her hip, and out the door as Jar Jar struggled with the human, and the battle droids pulling him up by his arms. The bodyguard angrily glared as he stood then turned to Dr. Vindi. "Can I kill him now, boss?"

"No, nononononononono." One of Dr. Vindi's hands waved in negation then abruptly stopped. "Not yet. My friends have him, you take the other one."

The man jerked Stone's jacket half-way down his back, twisting it to ensnare his arms. "Careful," Stone said, "It's only on loan." Then he stepped back, making sure to break the man's toes, slamming the back of his head into the man's face. He relaxed his arms; it gave him just enough room to jerk them out of the sleeves as the man's grip loosened and Stone twisted into a roundhouse kick against the big man's head.

The comm unit in the shoe let out a protesting beep then a busy tone as the transmission slipped into some automatic mode. "Press 1 for Basic," intoned Stone's shoe and the Seppie muscle man glanced at the noise.

"It's for you," said Stone even as a snap kick took the villain in the face. The Seppie spy dropped.

"Get Vindi," Stone ordered Jar Jar as he tackled the three droids now in front of the balcony.

"Oops," said Vindi as he turned to run.

Stone knew that Bames Jond would have had some fancy trick but he was a clone and a direct, frontal attack would take them all out. He could depend on Jar Jar to wrestle Vindi.

And, if he calculated correctly, he'd even survive this.

Stone fell, easily a thirty-meter drop, from the balcony as his mass (all muscle) and velocity (clone-quick) took all three droids over the edge. The droids screamed in their monotone voices, metallic arms flailing, their job of killing Stone forgotten. Stone avoided the flailing limbs, put his foot on one droid's chest as they fell and pushed.

It wouldn't gain him much distance since they were both airborne, but he only need a foot or two of leeway; only the distance his arms could reach to make sure he hit the pool instead of stones.

He slammed into the pool like the face of a hammer with sufficient momentum that he also slammed into the pool's glass bottom, cracking it as well as something in his shoulder. He grunted in pain and a bubble of air left his lips. Almost stunned, he pushed off the bottom headed for the surface.

Stone took a deep gulp of air, swam the short distance to the edge where he pulled himself out of the water with only a slight wince at the pain in his shoulder.

The tuxedo jacket was gone along with the lighter, and the white shirt was sufficiently ripped to make no different so Stone pulled the remaining shreds of it off his shoulders. The slacks were still on; water-soaked and clinging tightly to the muscles of his legs. The chronograph was still working - but perhaps only the chronograph portion of it. At least the kriffin' comm unit in the shoe was gone with the shoes somewhere between here and the balcony.

"I need to get into some dry clothes," he told the woman who had pushed up the brim of her sunhat as she lounged by the pool he'd fallen into. She passed him her towel, the tips of her fingers stroking his hand as he took it.

"Oh, please don't; not my account," she said in a deliciously sweet voice and a slow grin stole over Stone's features.

Maybe he should watch a Bames Jond adventure holovid - just once - to determine if all spies fell in love three times a day.

Dedicated to spy stories... from Smiley's People to Get Smart and, of course, Bames Jond. Along with a few other things thrown in.