Infiltrating The Palace

Mara Jade pulled the hood over her head, tucking her distinctive vermillion tresses out of sight as she moved out of the alley and through the open door of the cantina. Avoiding a collision with drunken Lasat, Mara sauntered through the bustling crowd and over to the bar, banging the durasteel countertop to catch the attention of the EV bartender.

"What'll it be? And do hurry, we're swamped at the moment," the grouchy droid demanded, violently shaking a cocktail mixer inches from Mara's face.

"I'm here to see the owner of this...establishment," Mara whispered, using the most polite word she could conjure up to describe the subpar cantina. "He should be expecting me."

"Bish should be in his office, just through there," the droid tilted its head towards a darkened path beside the bar. "He should be free. And do try and refrain from causing a fuss, my microprocessor can not handle yet another investigation by the Imperial busybodies that plague Mos Eisley."

Mara nodded curtly and wandered up to the narrow corridor, raising her legs to step over a pair of Jawas that had passed out against the walls. Strutting along the grated floor, she subtly waved her hand at the door near the end of the corridor, forcing it to open for her. Stepping into the crumbling office, she was immediately met by a blaster that was pointed straight at her chest, gripped by a nervous-looking Weequay.

"Who are you?" the Weequay exclaimed, tapping a small switch located beneath his battered desk. "And what did you do to the door? It's meant to be reinforced against thermal detonators."

"It seems you were sold a dud," Mara lied, pulling her hood back, taking no notice whatsoever of the blaster following her every move. "I assume that you are Giretti Bish?"

"Ahh, and I assume that you're the beautiful Arica that I've had the pleasure of communicating with?" Giretti relaxed and returned his blaster to its hiding place, salivating at the sight of the fiery haired beauty that graced the office of his cantina. "I have to say, you're a lot more gorgeous than I envisioned, I love a human with a red mane. Now, what can I do for you?"

"I need to get into Jabba's Palace," Mara replied bluntly, bristling as the Weequay distracted himself by staring brazenly at her, soaking in the sight of her perfect figure, clad in her form fitting synth-leather suit.

"That's it?" Giretti almost burst out with laughter, taken aback by what was a relatively simple request. "By the urgency of your comms, I assumed that you would be asking for something tricky. Hell, you could just walk up to his front gate and get inside with no problem, that greedy slug wouldn't turn away such a divine beauty."

"Don't you think I would have done exactly that if it were so easy?" Mara rolled her eyes, looking down at the proprietor with obvious disdain at the small office, able to hear the Jizz band through the thin walls. Just like any other offworlder, she dearly wished she could be anywhere else in the galaxy other than the dust bowl that was Tatooine. "I'm not a whore looking to suck up to a group of spice-addled smugglers, I need to get close to Jabba himself. From what my intel suggests, you're the only being that can help me on such short notice."

"Get close to Jabba?" Giretti shook his head. "Most girls that end up in his palace are looking for ways of getting out, not in. The only girls who get close to Jabba are those are exotic enough to end up in his harem, no exceptions."

"Well, it's fortuitous that I'm seeking out a place within his harem, and I know you have certain connections within the palace that can make that happen," Mara watched his eyes widen at the proclamation.

"You actually want to end up as his concubine?" Giretti said with a gasp, wondering how any human of her calibre could want to throw her life away in such a way, jealous that she chose Jabba of all sentients. "You're not one of those Hutt Sluts, are you? One of those women who get off on the danger of tangling with the Hutts?"

"No!" Mara hissed back, slamming her palm against his battered desk, with enough force to topple a number of the objects resting on it. "If you think that I get off on the idea of kriffing that gluttonous slug, then you are sorely mistaken. But I have to get inside within the next few weeks, and I'll do anything that enables me to remain in his good graces for long enough."

"If you say so," Giretti replied, justifiably sceptical about her true intentions. But being an opportunist, Giretti knew that offering up such tribute to the Hutt would benefit his business in the long run. If the human wanted to tempt fate, then he wasn't about to try and dissuade her. "So what is it exactly you need me to do?"

"I know that you act as a go between for slavers, especially those too far away to complete any transactions in person. I've already put together a fake dossier for a slave network operating in the Mid Rim, I shall act the part of a slave girl, a taste of the sort of product Jabba and his cohorts can expect in future," Mara pulled a holo-projector from her pocket, sliding it over to the Weequay. "I need you to be the one to deliver me to prevent suspicion from being cast upon my arrival."

"Seems easy enough," Giretti activated the holo-projector, flicking through the images on display, featuring Mara in different styles of lingerie and a detailed description of her various talents and kills. Much to Mara's irritation, Giretti was unimpressed by what he saw. "But you're not getting in with these images alone, they scream infiltrator."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Mara demanded.

"A lingerie shoot? You're not sending boudoir projections to your lover, you're trying to market yourself to your future master. Nothing should be left to the imagination, no slaver in his right mind would approach Jabba without making sure that every tiny detail had been noted and displayed. A Hutt doesn't make a deal unless they're certain that it's worth their time and credits."

"What are you proposing?" Mara raised a manicured brow, developing a deep dislike for the grin that materialised on the Weequay's face. "And I hope for your sake that it isn't sinister."

"It's quite simple really. Strip," Giretti moved back and rifled through the crates behind him, lifting a worn holocam out from the pile of bottles he had stashed away, placing it at the edge of his desktop.

"Excuse me? Would you care to repeat that?" Mara felt her anger flaring, with half a mind to choke the Weequay for having the gall to make such a request.

"Look, if you think that dressing up in expensive Naboolian lingerie and posing seductively on a silk-laden bed is going to enough to sway him, then go and test your luck, maybe you'll live just long enough to see the monster beneath his throne up close. But if you want to enter his harem alive, then you need to prove that you're the real deal. The only garments a slave is permitted to wear are those gifted to her by her master. Until that moment, she's as naked as the day she was born, nothing is hidden from the being that will acquire her. It's your choice," Giretti shrugged, tapping the holocam's on switch, signalled by the appearance of a bright light beside the lens.

"Fine, but you had better hope that these images don't end up on the holonet," Mara took a short breath, then proceeded to shrug off the straps of her suit, kicking her legs onto the table to unzip her boots. "Because if they do, I'll turn this wretched little dive bar into your tomb."

It didn't take long for her to pull off her clothes, letting them form a small pile at her feet. It took a moment to reassure herself before repeating the process with her silver coloured bra and thong, leaving every inch of her sculpted body exposed to the cam, with particular emphasis on her round breasts. With some prompting from Giretti, Mara began to pivot and twist around, showing off her body in its entirety, keeping her face neutral enough to conceal the revulsion that filled her. She stood back and parted her legs, offering an unobstructed view of her untouched sex, fully aware of the Weequay's lustful eyes as they watched her fingers dancing their way along her slit.

"Is that all?" Mara asked, resting her hands on her hips. "Or do you expect me to finger myself for you?"

"Nothing like that, for now. But I think we'll need some time in a studio to really show what you can do," Giretti grinned, disappointed when Mara crouched down to retrieve her clothes, wasting no time in putting them back on. "Meet me back here in the morning, I'll take you over to one of the clubs I run in Mos Eisley's red light district, we'll make sure that the oversized slug can't resist you if he tried."

~•~•~•~•~•~

A light breeze brushed over the the plains of the Northern Dune Sea, carrying waves of sand particles with it. The twin suns had long since set, replacing the intense heat with freezing temperatures that only the planet's more rugged inhabitants could endure for extended periods of time. Tatooine had a way of making itself as unappealing to newcomers as it possibly could, the only beings who dared to make the journey to the surface were those desperate enough for the work opportunities -- or those in search of something.

Jabba's Palace stood above the waves of dunes that covered most of the uninhabited parts of the desert, it's appearance was just as unseemly as the Hutt that resided within its durasteel and sandrock walls. It had originally been built to act as a monastery for the B'omarr Order, used to carry out their sacred rituals in isolation. But such a grand building only ended up attracting the eye of Jabba after his arrival on the planet, acquiring it meant the famously lazy Hutt didn't need to exert the effort, nor the hefty sum of credits required for constructing a palatial structure on the surface of Tatooine.

The Palace acted as Jabba's home away from home, allowing him to control and operate his vast business operations both on Tatooine and across the Outer Rim without fear of retribution. Robust defences within the structure of the Palace meant that any form of uprising from the moisture farmers or slighted business owners would die out before they could even consider breaching the massive durasteel opening.

The activities that took place within the walls of the former monastery were far from anything that had been intended following its construction by the religious order. Lust and gluttony occupied every inch of the palace's catacombs and chambers, Jabba didn't allow modesty or restraint to prevent him from invoking his most base desires. Even with the small Imperial presence that had established itself on Tatooine, the Hutt's word remained law, whatever he desired would be his.

The smell of spice residue filled the massive halls leading down towards Jabba's subterranean throne room, growing stronger the deeper into the palace Mara travelled, an immediate indicator of how debased the Hutt's parties could be. But it didn't deter Mara in the least as she approached the winding staircase, following the Weequay acting as the representative for her fake slaving conglomerate.

The assassin mentally prepared herself for what she knew would be one of the more demanding missions that her master had charged her with carrying out. Mara had spent many years under the tutelage of Darth Sidious, eagerly absorbing every ability and dark piece of knowledge he chose to impart upon her, utilising his teachings to serve him to the best of her abilities. Through sheer determination and her cold, calculating approach to her missions, Mara had managed to break through the role of being just a mere apprentice, earning the title 'The Emperor's Hand', recognised as an enforcer equal to Darth Vader himself.

Her fierce loyalty to the Emperor resulted in her master granting her far more freedom than most members of the Imperial navy were ever afforded, aside from those who had gone above and beyond to prove both their unwavering loyalty and effectiveness. But her nature as a covert operative often resulted in her being mistaken for one of the Emperor's courtesans, something she was all too happy to use to her advantage whenever she was tasked with surveillance of suspected traitors within the Imperial top brass. Whatever life she lived before being swept away and transported to Coruscant was irrelevant to her, meaningless in comparison to the sense of duty and purpose that came with being entrusted with carrying out her Emperor's will.

There was little Mara hadn't done in her master's name She had engaged in espionage against organisations opposed to the Empire, kidnapped and assassinated admirals who had been implicated in attempted coups and plots to depose Emperor Palpatine. Seduction became a tool just as effective as her lightsaber, Mara could barely begin to recall just how many dignitaries or alleged traitors she had bedded, nor could she remember just how many met their end with a snap of their neck or a plunge of a saber through their chest, but such memories weren't worth bringing up. Ultimately, every man she had let use her body all met the same fate, in one way or another.

With every strike of her heels against the sandrock stairs, Mara went over her plan once again, repeatedly playing out just how her task would play out in her mind, until she felt confident that it would be carried out without a hitch. She had been many things over the years, played many different roles, from a cold blooded killer to an irresistible seductress. But above all, Mara was a perfectionist, not one to allow her feelings or emotions interfere with the mission.

"I hope you know what you're doing, human," Giretti muttered, closely eyeing the path ahead, almost expecting something to jump out from the shadows and rip his throat out.

"Why? I didn't realise you were so concerned about my well-being," Mara's voice dripped with sarcasm, far less concerned about the prospect of being jumped by a faceless assailant.

"I don't give a kriff about what will happen to you! I'm worried about my own neck if this scheme of yours doesn't go to plan," Giretti hissed, tightening the red sash encircling his waist, a tradtional symbol of someone working on behalf of a slaving guild, "I don't think you fully appreciate just how much I'm sticking my neck out for you."

"You've already been generously compensated. Beyond that, you're right, I don't really find myself being too concerned about you," Mara tutted, looking forward to finally ridding herself of the jittery Weequay. As useful as he was to the mission, there was nothing Mara despised more than having to dely on unknown entities, which only created more variables that she needed to be cognizant of. "You just play your part and I'll play mine, then we can go our separate ways. It's all rather simple."

"'Simple' she says," Giretti scoffed, stiffening when the yellowish glow of the audience chamber came into sight, washing over the cracking sandstone covering the walls of the staircase. "I don't know what it is you think is going to happen here, but Jabba isn't exactly known for keeping his oily hands to himself when it comes to exotic females. If you think that this is going to be just a dancing gig, then I'm telling you that you're one of the most naive people on this dustbowl."

"Let me worry about Jabba, you just focus on sticking to the script. If things go south, I'll have you to blame," Mara said with a deceptively sweet voice, with the underlying threat not going unnoticed by the Weequay.

Once the Emperor's Hand made it to the base of the curling staircase, appearing between the arched mouth, she immediately felt well over a hundred sets of eyes land on her, some with more suspicion for the newcomer, others with a far more lurid intrigue. Her emerald eyes assessed her new surroundings, even her most liberal estimations about the potential crowd size were smashed when she took in just how densely packed the main throne room truly was.

The scent of spice was rich in the air, Mara knew well that no dealer worth his weight in the narcotic would even dare to bring a product into the debauched halls of the Palace that was less than pure, not if he didn't intend to have an encounter with the lumbering beast that resided in the caverns below. It wasn't difficult for Mara to pick out the smugglers, their scruffy clothing and overall unearned arrogant demeanour made them stick out from the crowd like a sore thumb.

The redhead spotted a few of the galaxy's more well-known bounty hunters mingling with the other denizens, with their extravagant armour doing little to help them blend in amongst the throngs of shabbily dressed sycophants. Imperial intel suggested it wasn't uncommon to find the likes of Boba Fett and Bossk lurking in the shadows, taking the time to enjoy the company of the collared beauties. Jabba was well known for being one of the most generous contractors in the Outer Rim, usually driven by his eagerness to exact vengeance upon those foolish enough to deceive or slight him in some manner.

Most women would have taken a single glance at the assembled degenerates that made up the bulk of the Hutt's court and simply respond by leaving without a second thought, fleeing before the chances of escape fell out of reach forever. But Mara's years of training at the hands of Darth Sidious had more than hardened her, the lust ridden stares that were sent her way did not deter her in the least. Mara's glistening ruby lips curled into a dazzling smile as she stepped across the threshold, her undeniable charisma caused the crowd to part, allowing her to pass directly through. It didn't surprise Mara when she felt a series of hands belonging to a number of different species brush against her body, with her enticing outfit almost encouraging them to do so.

Mara sauntered through the opening, even going as far as to wink at a select few as she passed by, risking being dragged off by the first impulsive individual whose self-control couldn't resist such beauty. After just a short walk, Mara's eyes finally managed to fall upon the corpulent form of Jabba the Hutt resting upon his mobile dais, flanked by a rusting silver protocol droid and the pasty-skinned Bib Fortuna. Resting against his slimy stomach was a Twi'lek of incredible beauty, one clad in a fishnet bodysuit that left absolutely nothing to the imagination and put her distinctive emerald skin on full view, along with a pair of strappy sandals designed for dancing in the intensely hot desert air. The gluttonous slug took a short intake from his hookah pipe, a cloud of smoke billowed from his slitted nostrils when he exhaled. His thick fingers sat beneath the curve of his crystal chalice, moving it harshly enough to slosh the liquor within around, sending it spilling to the sand covered ground, intentionally causing some of the liquid to splash across the shoulders of his shy slave.

Twinkling emerald eyes met Spice-tinted orange orbs, locked momentarily before the Hutt commenced his calculating assessment of her body. His eyes followed the path of her flowing vermilion hair down to the sheer blue dreamsilk dress loosely covering her body, with the dim lights behind her illuminating the flimsy fabric enough to display the outline of Mara's painstakingly maintained body, a sight that left the Hutt deeply impressed, indicated by the hammering of his tail against the dais. Black leather boots encased Mara's pale legs from her feet to her thighs, but they didn't prevent Jabba from eyeing up their mouth-watering contours.

"Your Excellency, it's truly an honour to be in your presence," Giretti bowed deeply, tightening his hands into fists until his knuckles turned white. "My name is Giretti Bish."

"Ahhh, the cantina owner Bib has been babbling on about," Jabba rumbled in Huttese, which was dutifully translated by the droid at his side. Setting his chalice down on a nearby stand, he paid no attention to his Kowakian monkey-lizard pet as it leapt up to lap at the intoxicating liquid. The Hutt's large eyes narrowed as he addressed the increasingly unnerved Weequay. "You've been awfully insistent that we should meet. According to Bib, you have a substantial bevy of lovelies primed for the open market, far more than anything you've sold before. I had my agents examine this conglomerate you represent, yet they could find no real evidence of their previous transactions."