FTL Chapter 12

Nar Uned steps out of the massive shower in her even more massive suite, a space whose walls appear to be made up of throbbing, gold bubbles that give off a soft, moist light.

She sees herself in the mirror. It’s only been a few hours since she received this new look, and the ones who gave it to her had been none too reliable looking, so she is relieved to look presentable. The business that she’s in doesn’t leave a lot of room for socialization beyond networking. There’s a certain level of vanity, but selling weapons simply is not about looking pretty.

She was a forgettable human woman, but with even a slapdash bit of body modification, she feels like she makes a rather striking Chiss. Being blue is interesting, but it’s her eyes that she can’t get used to. Her hair also behaves differently.

No one is likely to recognize her. For the first time in memory, she feels free. Her plan was to hide in her room for the whole trip, but suddenly that doesn’t feel right. She dries off and goes to her luggage, where she looks through the meager clothes that she’s brought along. She has nothing that feels right for a night out.

Wrapped in a robe, she sits on the bed with her back to the mirror. The blue woman reflected in it startles her no matter how much she stares, but she feels strangely confident. It’s hard to explain, but it doesn’t feel like this is her body anymore. That makes her bolder as she remotely shops the boutiques that the Argo offers, selecting a revealing, silvery dress with a plunging neckline and a slit thigh.

Why not spend the evening pretending to be a rich traveler without a care in the world? That’s exactly what she is at the moment. She’s earned it. Besides, it’ll take her mind off what had to be done in Celestial City. Nar Uned took no pleasure in having Setna, her bodyguard, killed. They hadn’t been close; Nar Uned had barely ever seen the Mandalorian without her helmet on. But she’d done her job.

Well, in **** she would protect Nar Uned one last time by making the ambush look real.

An hour later, Nar Uned emerges from her room. This most lavish section of the vessel is spacious and not crowded, but she makes her way down to the more crowded decks where things are livelier. She doesn’t want to gamble in a casino. A drink sounds better. As she strolls, she sees a bar that looks nice, but doesn’t feel right. She keeps walking, as though something is pulling her along.

The bar that she chooses is quiet, sleek, and full of Neimoidians, but there’s one exception: a figure in black at the bar. She sits on a stool wearing a sort of bodysuit that covers every inch of her. It’s the strange woman that Nar Uned sold those codes to. She looks different without her robes: lithe, but rugged. She sits hunched with the familiarity of a drifter in a Coruscant dive bar.

She’s no drifter. It’s the credits that she handed over today that are paying Nar Uned’s way. It’s difficult not to be curious.