"Before asking yourself who would be stupid enough to do something like this, please remember that this is the dumbest timeline."
The sound of the shower on full blast in tandem with the bathroom ventilation made for a satisfying racket. More than enough to distract the average eavesdropper, I judged. And it would have to be since neither I nor the Little Jedi were actually going to use it any time soon. No, it just had to give me a modicum of privacy.
And really, was that too much to ask?
"That's just begging for your minders to barge in on us," the Little Jedi commented from her perch on the bed, immediately mocking my genius idea. At some point, while I had arranged for the distraction, she had tossed her slightly blood-stained and cut-up green robe to the side. It left her in a pale beige tunic that left her arms free. A pale beige tunic with a handful of small red splotches all over, but those didn't look too bad.
By marked contrast, the Little Jedi's bare arms were a mess. Her right arm, especially. Almost as much a mess as my back had been when my putative allies had decided to pave the way to victory with my corpse.
The were the obvious lacerations and contusions, painting much of the wiry limb a vivid collection of red and purple, but those did not concern me as much. They weren't bleeding much, after all. The angry pink welts that rose in rings wrapping around both of her arms, however? Welts that left the skin blistered and peeled? Those gave me concern.
Not enough concern to make me point them out, though.
"They will knock first," I assured her as I mentally tried to work through a triage checklist I had never had to learn. The cuts and such were not so bad. But those welts and blisters were indicative of burns. The skin hadn't died though, so those were… no worse than second-degree burns? Eh, the Little Jedi would know what to do. "And I can come up with a suitable cover story if I need to, which will buy us time."
"You do have an annoying talent for making things up as you go along," she agreed, not moving from her seat atop the bed. The first aid kit by her side went unused, though, which suggested… something. Probably.
"Which brings me to my biggest question," I said, choosing not to engage with her comment. "What are you doing here?"
"Waiting for the heat to die down," she answered. "Or to ensure that nobody is left to report on my presence in the imperial apartments."
That statement sent a chill down my spine. At least, it started to, right until it triggered my very special survival mechanism for situations just like this: unabashed temerity.
"Hiding, then," I surmised. "Unless you intend to give the Empire another opportunity like Chembau? Or to allow the Empire to leverage the failings of the Combine of Zyg to get our metaphorical foot in the door?"
"Calling it a strategic withdrawal would be more accurate," she bit out, glaring at me. Unfortunately for her, letting me get under her skin was part of my plan. Quite frankly, it was most of my plan. People were far more likely to try and get a win in an argument than beat you half (or entirely) to death, provided they could not get away with a spot of homicide.
"I'm the one providing shelter, so I get to assign the mocking descriptor," I said imperiously, moving over to the first aid kit. The Little Jedi still had my lightsaber in addition to her own, but I knew perfectly well she would not use it on me. Not unless she wanted to make the galaxy noticeably worse.
"Oh, how cute, you think your preferences matter here," she said, her voice filled with utterly false sweetness. "Just because you're an asset to the Republic doesn't mean you get to tell me how to do my job."
"And just because you're an asset to the Empire doesn't mean you get to act like an imperial," I countered, getting the essentials out of the first aid kit. Burn cream, gauze, and bandages. I did not have a whole lot of each, but more than enough for one person. "Killing imperials is a deeply treasured Sith tradition, and I will not have you infringing upon our culture."
"So I'm the asset now?" she asked, her tone still as sweet as rotten fruit. I preferred the glare, I really did. At least that felt honest. This? This I did not like.
"You helped me get promoted and are a point of contact with the Jedi Order and the Republic," I pointed out, ignoring my own feelings of discomfort. "If not for you, the world of Chembau might still be independent instead of aligned with the Empire. I'd call that an asset."
All signs of saccharine sweetness vanished from her face, replaced by a flat glare. Personally, I welcomed the change. It suited her better than whatever she had been trying to do before.
"And you owe your life, position, and authority to my efforts," she countered. "Which makes you a republic asset."
"Congratulations, we're both assets to the other side," I said, voice heavy with sarcasm. "Now we just have to figure out whose debt is greater. And, you know, figure out why you are here. Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?"
"I already said I needed to get the locals off my tail," she revealed. "The last Zygerrian slavedriver managed to get off an alarm before I killed him, and it is a lot harder to sneak into the Republic accommodations than the imperial ones. Use that head of yours, Little Sith. Why would I lie to someone who can tell when I'm lying?"
That all made sense.
That did not entirely excuse her overenunciating everything like she was talking to an especially slow child, but the words made sense.
"No, that all makes perfect sense," I allowed, sitting down on the bed. "But why here?"
Her left hand, attached to her less damaged arm, shot out to grab my tie and pull my head down to be level with her own. I most certainly could have stopped her, or at the very least made her work for it. Definitely.
I swear.
"Because, Little Sith, you owe me," she said very clearly, glaring directly into my eyes. Even if they were hidden beneath the all-concealing black mask, she seemed to know directly where to look. "And because if there is one imperial on this thrice-damned planet whom I can trust, it's you."
Several heartbeats passed as I parsed the information. Well, tried not to feel too bashful about having someone tell me, point blank, to my face, that they trust me. Me! Their nominal enemy!
And suddenly I got an idea. A brilliant, and brilliantly idiotic, idea. An idea the Little Jedi was probably going to hate, but she had come to me for help. She had to expect idiocy by now, right?
"How would you like an alibi for your homicides today?" I asked slowly and carefully.
"This feels like a setup," she said, her voice flat, and her face still mere inches away from mine.
"No, nothing like that," I assured her. "I think I may have a way of clearing you of any suspicion. But it may be… unpleasant. For both of us."
"You plan on feeding the tabloids again, don't you?" she asked, sounding a little defeated.
"Dear goodness no," I said. "There are no tabloids on Zyg Prime. First thing I checked. Turns out, there is no freedom of the press here. Absolutely none. No, but high society will have heard the rumors. We just need to play into those rumors."
"And be publicly seen," she pointed out. "While I wear torn and obviously blood-stained robes. Yes, what an alibi that is. No, best to just wait here."
"Ah, but that's the brilliance of it," I said, grinning madly beneath my mask. "They won't be torn and bloodstained."
"Don't tell me you've learned some Force ritual to let you mend clothes," the Little Jedi said – almost ordered – but finally released me. "And wash them in a matter of minutes?"
"The way of the house husband is a pathway to many abilities one might consider unnatural," I said in my most ominous voice, rising back to my feet. "But this is nothing so elaborate. My team has a factotum droid on staff. It should be able to get the stains out and the holes patched in no time."
"Really?" Clearly, the Little Jedi did not think much of my plan if the doubt in her voice was any indication. "Just let an entire imperial delegation know a Jedi is hiding among them when you have the droid fix up a Jedi robe? That's your genius plan?"
"No, that's..."
A knock on the door interrupted anything I was about to say. Shit. Shit, this was too soon. This had not bought me nearly enough time, and both I and the Little Jedi knew it. Which meant it was time to improvise. And improvise quickly. Otherwise, the Little Jedi was about to, and she already had her lightsaber in her hand. Corpse disposal was not something I intended to have to deal with two missions in a row.
But I had most of an idea.
I gestured to the bathroom, with head and hand, directing the Little Jedi. Blessedly, she chose not to argue and instead hurried in, taking the first aid kit with her. I sent a spare shirt in after her, hoping she would be able to take the hint and use it to disguise herself. Only once I was alone again did I answer the door, revealing the red-haired intelligence drone wearing a diplomatic uniform.
"My lord, we..." her voice faltered as her eyes focused on something beneath my head. They narrowed fractionally, and only for a second, before darting back up to my masked face. "I was going to mention that we have a tentative schedule secured for this evening. Might I ask why the shower is still running?"
Oh shit, she had caught on to me.
"That... is a personal matter," I lied. "Oh, and send in the factotum droid. I'll need its services."
The drone did not believe me, I knew. But that was fine, because she couldn't prove anything.
...
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