Shelzais Sek heaved a sigh, leaned back in the pilot’s chair, and and swung her legs up to prop her feet (shod in fluffy fur boots) on the Clever Girl’s autopilot console. She massaged her temple with two silver-manicured fingertips as she watched the bluish-white crystal sphere that was the planet Hoth begin to shrink and fall away in the exterior monitor screens.
“I’m just desolate, Syrian my dear, but all good things come to an end,” she purred—artificially cheery—to no one in particular. “A girl can’t neglect her career indefinitely, you know.”
A string of melodious beeps drew her attention to B9-D4, which was trundling into the cockpit with, bless its circuits, a drink tray securely clasped in its gripper claws. “Oh, I suppose back to Kanz, eventually,” Shelzais answered the little droid’s question as best she could make it out. “After a suitable holiday. Someplace warm.”
The truth was that Shelzy had had one glittering golden eye peeled to spot an opportune exit for some weeks now. Running with outlaws like the White Maw was fun in a romantic sort of way, for a little while, as long as they remembered to treat her like the lady she was—Syrian certainly was a gentleman, even if one couldn’t say the same for all his colleagues—but Shel had soon enough been reminded why she had never stayed long with other groups like this one. Shelz knew she was not a pirate at heart: give her all that money and treasure, and she’d happily roll off to a casino planet, never to rob again. But that was never enough for real pirates. For them it was always about the next score—more risk, more violence, and, inevitably, more pressure from the grinding masses of great powers like the Empire and the Republic. Shelzy had no interest in sticking around to find out what was going to happen on Hoth when that pressure sprung free.
Also, Hoth itself was simply an appalling place—all ice and no buzz, like the worst cocktail in a terrible tourist cantina. Shelzais shivered as she plucked a clinking glass of purplish liquid from B-Nine’s drink tray. What a pity that in a pirate redoubt there was absolutely no one to socialize with apart from, well, pirates. Elsewhere, on Lorrd perhaps, there would be artists and socialites among the bandits (the latter might be wearing senators’ robes or corporate suits, but those had their own thrill of the forbidden), which would be a nice change. She knew a director there who had as much as promised her a bit in whatever folly he was filming the next time she turned up at his studio doors, and a red carpet or three would be just what her spirits needed right now. Noise, lights, music, attention—in short, everything Hoth had lacked to drown out the ugly sense of foreboding looming over her through the Force.
Relieved of its high-proof burden, B-Nine had rolled off to interface with the ship’s entertainment system, and now the speakers shivered to life. The receding speck of Hoth vanished from the screens, replaced by a scene from a holodrama Shelzais had cameoed in a few years ago. It was a crime-comedy set on Ziost, exactly the sort of subversive material no director could dream of screening back in the Empire, which had made it a particularly delightful project; Shel’s own part was small but she had been a fan favorite. On the screen, Shelzy watched herself twirl under hot lights among a crowd of adoring extras, in a white satin dress and sparkling jewelry that set off her deep red skin. Backed by an orchestra, her own husky voice wafted out of the Clever Girl’s expensive audio output nodes:
[Music, obviously...]
Some Sith are glad to die for love
They delight in fighting duels
But I prefer a man who lives
And gives expensive jewels
A kiss on the hand
May be quite Coruscanti
But kybers are a girl's best friend
A kiss may be grand
But it won't make the ante
At a pazaak dive
Or help you fix your hyperdrive
Men grow cold
As girls grow old
And we all lose our charms in the end
But one blade or double
These rocks cut through trouble
Kybers are a girl's best friend
Adegan!
Illum!
Krayt pearls, Ghostfire!
Talk to me Mister Krennic
Tell me all about it!
There may come a time
When a lass meets a blaster
But kybers are a girl's best friend
There may come a time
When a hard-boiled Dark Master
Thinks you're awful nice
But get that ice or else no dice
He's your guy
When tribute’s high
But beware when it starts to descend
It's then that those despots
Go back to their dark plots
But kybers are a girl's best friend
Kybers! … Kybers!
I don't mean rhinestones!
But kybers… are… a girl’s… best… friend!
Shelzais nodded to herself as B-Nine blooped its approval. After this long without a memory wipe, B-Nine was getting opinionated. It was just lucky for Shel that the little droid’s taste was excellent.