#kaayla

Anon, my dear, I am so glad you’re enjoying my stuff and I am always very happy to write more of Kit and Aayla! Sorry for the delay, though.

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“And who is this pretty lady?” Kit dodged his escort to approach Aayla, who was almost unrecognizable under the grime and (he hoped) fake bruises.

“No one important, Master Jedi!” Administrator Duval all but yelped, making a grab for his arm. “Please! We have a schedule to keep, right?”

Alarm and irritation poured off him, and even with the blocking cream covering his ahwey he could still pick up the greasy tastefeel of stale deathstick smoke and old blood. Or perhaps it was left over from the Administrator’s unsavory predilections. 

Aayla, for her part, flashed a warning at him but kept her eyes downcast, as befit the lowly slave she was pretending to be.

“Just a humble worker, m’lord,” she murmured, her accent thicker and canted toward the harshness of the Western reaches of Ryloth than her usual Northern drawl.

“A worker who is busy,” Duval said, pulling him away. “So we should leave her to it!”

Kit knew he shouldn’t risk jeopardizing the mission, but they’d been undercover for two weeks already and the veneer of “we’re but a modest little textile factory” that covered up a multi-system slave-running operation was wearing thin.

It had to be ten times worse for Aayla, who’d been “captured” and put in with the more valuable slaves. He was simply here as a distraction while she did most of the hard work of gathering evidence. They’d already sent off a small mountainload to their Senate contact and now it was mostly a matter of making sure no one figured out what was happening while Organa’s team ran around securing warrants and arranging to have the factory raided.

“May I at least know the humble worker’s name?” Kit grinned, allowing himself to be pulled away.

“Perhaps another time, m’lord. Aayla bowed her head to hide her smile, but Kit caught it anyway.

Judging by the dark glare Duval was flashing between the two of them, he might have caught it, too.

“So, Nevin!” Kit clapped the Administrator on the back, causing him to stumble a bit. “I believe you said the dye vats were the next stop? I’ve been dyeing to see them all week!”

Duval’s pale human skin flushed dark, the tastefeel of his emotions almost cloying. “Right this way, Master Pelagis.”

Kit allowed himself to be led, falling back into his role as the dim-witted but well-meaning Jedi Knight Lamis Pelagis, who was ostensibly on Duuradi for a routine inspection, but if you read between the lines (which “Lamis” couldn’t), it was to keep him out of the Order’s way for a while. 

When he met with Aayla for their next handoff that night, the first thing he did was pull her into a hug.

“I will be very glad when this mission is finally over,” he murmured. “I’m not sure how much longer I can stand being around that revolting little droch.”

“I noticed.” 

Aayla smiled up at him, and for a moment, nothing else mattered.

“I still wish I could have been the slave and you the wet-behind-the-gills Jedi Knight blundering around getting in the way.” He reached out, carefully brushing a smudge of dirt from her cheek.

Aayla covered his hand with her own, leaning into his touch. “As much as I love the idea of you in a skimpy outfit, freykaa, you know why it had to be this way.”

He sighed, resting his forehead against hers. For all that the Republic lauded itself on being civilized, sexisim- and less savory things- still ran deep. Females commanded a higher price and twi’leks higher still.

“I know,” he said. With luck and a good team of lawyers, the information they’d gathered should be enough to cripple the slave trade through the whole region. 

Warmth rushed through him as fingers brushed against his ahwey. They also tucked a datachip under one of his bands. 

Aayla pulled back, flicking a finger at his nose. “Besides, you do dumb so much better than I do.”

He laughed. “I guess those years of practice have finally paid off.”

She arched a brow ridge at him. “Practice. Right.” She caught his fingers, giving them a light kiss. “Now get back to your nice opulent cage before we get caught.”

“I’d be a fool not to listen to such wisdom.” He gave her an exaggerated bow, grinning at the way she rolled her eyes. “Stay safe, freykaa.”

“You as well.”

They parted. Kit released his hopes into the Force, willing it to keep Aayla and the other slaves safe and to bring a quick end to the mission.

The fallout from Duval’s operation and the ROCI raid of his slaveholding facility was taking longer to unsnarl than Kit had planned. Captain Taliesin, a whiphid with startling pink fur, asked them to stay to help with the now-freed slaves. Technically it was only Aayla they required, but Kit wasn’t about to leave her behind.

The former slaves were rightly wary and paranoid; some of their suspicions transferred to Aayla as she’d been lying to them about her identity, but her actions- and the support of Sienn, who’d risen as the leader of the group- help assuage most of their concerns. It didn’t stop the situation from being any less tense, and Kit could feel Aayla’s mounting frustration both in the Force and through his ahwey, the dulling agent having long worn off.

ROCI was doing its best to catalogue everything, but it was time-consuming, and when one of Taliesin’s underlings made an off-color joke about the shock collars in the presence of some of the people who’d been wearing them... Aayla’s temper snapped before his own could.

She picked up one of the collars and stalked toward the unfortunate jokester, a male human who was likely still in his late teens.

“You think this is funny, do you?” Aayla curled his lips at him. 

Kit tucked his hands behind him and sauntered closer, but made no move to intervene. If anything, he was ready to back up whatever she did.

The officer, already pale-skinned, managed to blanch further.

“Uh, no, ma’am! Sorry, ma’am! Lady Jedi, ma’am.” He started to back away. His cronies deserted him, suddenly finding they were needed elsewhere.

“Perhaps you’d like to try this on for yourself to see how it tingles.” She made a move as if to clamp it around his neck.

“No!” The officer stumbled back, raising his hands. “I’m sorry! It won’t happen again!”

“Apologize to them!” She stabbed a finger in the direction of their audience, now huddled closer together. 

He turned, babbling more apologies to the unimpressed and worried group. 

Aayla held her hand out and concentrated. The collar floated into the air.

Taliesin was approaching at a dead run. “Masters Jedi!” They shouted. “Please! Be careful with the evidence!”

Aayla ignored him. The Force hummed and suddenly the floating collar dissolved into its component parts and dropped to the ground.

“Now you have more evidence,” she said, staring directly at the unfortunate officer. 

Sienn applauded, soon joined by the rest of the slaves. The officer saluted hastily and turned to escape.

“Riegel! Halt!” Taliesin snapped.

Riegel froze where he was, shoulders hunching.

“Master Secura, you have my profound apologies,” Taliesin said. “Please, don’t undo all our hard work because of the indiscretions of one man.”

Kit winced. Of all the ways to calm Aayla’s temper, once raised, that was not the way to do it. His own irritation was piqued as well, not only at what had happened, but at the implied insult- intended or not- against Aayla. He nudged her with his elbow.

“Using the Force, darling?” He said. “Isn’t that cheating?”

Aayla shot him a bright look, her smile going sharp. She held out her hand, calling another collar to her. This time, she wrapped her hands around it and pulled.

Muscles bulged in her arms and across her shoulders. It was arousing as hell, and not for the first time, Kit was grateful that his biology wasn’t on display the way it was in many mammals.

“Please!” Taliesin tried again.

With a creak, the metal started to bend and then snapped. Smirking at Kit, she tossed the two pieces to the dismayed ROCI Captain. Gasps and more applause came from the slaves. Sienn whistled.

“If you’ll excuse us, Captain,” Aayla said. “I believe we’re done here.”

The next thing Kit knew, Aayla was sweeping him off his feet and into her strong and capable arms. Grinning, he looped an arm around her shoulders.

“My hero,” he said.

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