Trying to steal a uniform

Cara pressed her ear to the door. By the look of it this was a storage room, currently empty, but there was no guarantee the corridor would be as well. She wouldn’t exactly fit in among Imperials if she was seen walking out.

Voices. She pulled back, glancing around the room, before ducking behind a crate.

She withdrew her blaster from its holster. Times like this, she wouldn’t have minded her rifle, but she’d never have stuck it in. The simple pistol it was.

There was the slick sound of the door gliding open. She held her breath, and listened for the sound of it shutting again.

“Kyber, kyber…” the Imperial muttered, searching for something.

Cara risked poking her head around the side of the crate. One man, alone, an officer as opposed to stormtrooper, scanning the inventory of the storage room. Tip-toeing, Cara went around the far side of the crate, drawing nearer to him.

He turned when he felt her breath on the back of his neck. He had just enough time for his eyes to widen.

“What-” he began.

She hit him with the butt of her pistol; he crumpled. Shooting him would make too much noise, but thuds were a credit a dozen in places like this. Grunting, she pulled his **** body behind a crate.

There, she paused. She looked at the closed door again, musing; she wanted to put a stop to the Imperial presence of Nevarro, and there was no doing that from a storage room. Equally, if she set foot out there, she’d stick out like a sore thumb.

She looked down at the **** Imperial. He was a little slimmer than her, a little taller, but hopefully those two would balance out. Crouching, she began to carefully undo his uniform.

In that, she hopefully wouldn’t raise much attention. At the very least she hoped to get further in. Maybe there was a more defensible location, or an armory. Either would be good. From there, she could blast her way through the base.

Okay, her face wouldn’t pass muster, but who knew every stray officer by look?

Hat, jacket, shirt, belt, pants – she put the officer’s effects in a neat pile, quirking an eyebrow at the bland grey of his remaining boxers, but deciding she wasn’t even going to touch those. He was welcome to them.

Unfortunately, that left her with a fairly tight uniform to change into. She held her breath, and quickly stripped down – her shoulder-pads were a bit bulky to hide under that uniform. Boots off, armguards off, belts off, shirt off, pants off…

She heard the sound of the door. Cara dove sideways quickly, in a panic kicking her clothes the other way, hiding behind another pile of crates. She slid down, crouching on the floor to fill less space, looking first across the room to make sure the other Imperial’s body was out of sight.

Thankfully he should be – she’d slid most things where she’d hidden from him before, out of sight as the door. So long as the Imp didn’t get too close…

The storage room was as regimented and organised as she expected from the Empire. No freedom, just rigidity and limitation masquerading as order. Crates and piles in a neat, grid-based structure, thin passages to allow movement between, with a taller crate concealing an **** Imperial, an open vent grate, an Imperial uniform, and Cara’s clothes; another smaller box hid Cara Dune herself, sat on the floor in nothing but her underwear.

Of all the times for an Imp to walk in… she knew she hated them for a reason.

“Feroc? Gol Feroc?” the newcomer called. “Could’ve sworn he… ugh, courier duty is the worst. You’re not just hiding to be a pain are you?”

Cara went to reach for her blaster, and scowled when she only succeeded in patting her thigh. Her holster was with the rest of her clothes.

Sure, she’d quipped she felt naked without a weapon on her before, but this was ridiculous.

The former shock-trooper was left there. Her bra, black with a dark green stripe around it, was suited for her more active life. A synthetic weave, it was far from skimpy, hugging tightly to her chest and vainly trying to reduce her impressive bust by squeezing her chest, meant to avoid any distracting shaking when she was active.

Her panties were, well, barely panties; they were more like shorts, matching black-and-dark-green with her top half, going doing a quarter of her thigh and straining tightly around her curves. It wasn’t the most indecent get-up she could be in – she did default to practicality – but it was much less than she’d planned to storm an Imperial base in.

Still, she cursed her self-consciousness. She could have assaulted that Imperial too – it would be a little trickier to crawl around the smaller crate, but the day she couldn’t get the jump on an Imp was the day she’d just give up on life. She just hesitated for a few crucial moments as she processed her undressed state.

“You!”

And as those crucial moments passed, a stormtrooper walked past the crate, and caught sight of her. And unlike Cara, he was armed – he raised his blaster suddenly, catching the underwear-clad former Rebel in her rather **** state.

She could only imagine his expression under that helmet.

Some days she was so glad for the impractical stormtrooper armor – it made sneaking around wearing it easy, and it wrought havoc with their aiming. But at the same time, it could make it so hard to deal with them – someone without the helmet, she’d be able to see the moment he was too distracted, or looking at the wrong place, and would be able to get in close and disarm them.

In this case, even a stormtrooper would struggle to miss her at this range, and she had no idea what he was thinking. Whether he was looking at her chest and she could kick, looking at her ass so she could punch, or was just gay or preferred weaker girls and totally unaffected by her **** display. Sexuality wasn’t her normal weapon, true, but she didn’t consider herself above everything.

But in this case, she had no idea what the best option was.

“Stand up,” the trooper said, gesturing with his blaster. “Hands on your head.”

Slowly, Cara eyed him, carefully getting to her feet. Better to be upright anyway. She lifted her arms, suddenly very aware of how exposed she was.

“Intruder! You’re coming with me,” the stormtrooper said.