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A cool wind wafted throughout the foyer, lightly billowing awnings and wind chimes as the night had swept into full-throttle. Nocturnal bugs and creatures sang their droning tunes, and glowbugs hovered through the frontal courtyard as natural lanterns for the evening.
The museum was grand - a centrepiece of the town - with marble walls lined with bronze and golden decals along the edges. With multiple storeys, a sprawling garden and polished-stone walkways, it was one of the most remarkable buildings to have popped up in recent years in the re-developed world of Makeb.
Whilst many patrons for the night’s showcase on cultural artefacts waited either outside or in the main foyer, a certain couple traced the garden trails, taking a moment to let the scene settle in.
“It’s so nice to finally get some time alone,” Vette sighed with contempt, her arm slinked around her husband’s as she leant in with their walk. “When was the last time before we had an actual, proper date?”
“Um… before I hibernated in carbonite, I think,” Rrayden remarked with a light grimace at the memory. Dressed in a denim outfit with black boots and a white backdrop shirt, the former Sith looked uncomfortable in the attire, and kept adjusting his buttoned collar. “Are you sure Dida will be alright, honey?”
“She seemed pretty stoked when we dropped her off at Tiiva and K’iraan’s place,” Vette chuckled, leaning in on her tip-toes to place a tender kiss on the man’s bearded face. The Twi’lek’s wardrobe had also taken a drastic turn. Donning a deep, purple dress that flowed all the way down to her feet. To Rrayden, it was strange - that his wife, who had grown up in a less fortunate childhood than him, was more comfortable in a now-lavish way of living than himself.
“Yeah, well I hope your sister doesn’t over-feed our little girl,” Rrayden laughed, leading Vette in a bend around the garden. “She won’t be able to sleep, otherwise.”
“Honestly? I’m more worried about the fact she has to look after six kids now,” Vette commented. “I don’t know how she does it.”
“Tiiva doesn’t do it alone, you know,” Rrayden said with a slight smirk. “I’m sure K’iraan will lend her a hand. I don’t know how she convinced him to have five kids.”
“Well, us Vaos can be pretty convincing,” Vette teased, gently nudging the man with playful intent, as the two of them finally approached the museum’s foyer. A velvet red carpet had been rolled out, lined with gold, robed barricades.
“Don’t I know it…” Rrayden muttered, raising an eyebrow as Vette pulled him aside before joining the queue. “What’s up, honey?”
“Remember how I said this was going to be a date?” The woman asked with a meek look in her violet eyes. “Well… it still kind of is, but…”
“Let me guess,” Rrayden grinned. “There’s a Twi’lek artefact inside that you want to reclaim for your people?”
“That obvious, huh?” Vette winced, as the two of them moved behind a clean-cut hedge to mask their words. “I’m sorry, I should have said something when we left Odessen, but I couldn’t resist when Taunt told me about there being a…”
Rrayden leant in to give his wife a gentle kiss on her lips, holding her with comfort and support. He felt her soothing, natural warmth he knew he could never forget, blending with her precious, soft heartbeat.
“It’s alright,” he said softly as their lips parted, his hand cupping her cheek. “As soon as you suggested a museum to be our date location, I kind of put two and two together. Even then, I wouldn’t have turned down the idea.”
“You’re incredible,” Vette exhaled, her Lekku quivering gently as she pulled him in for another quick, but passionate kiss. “We’ll make up for it afterwards, I promise.”
“I’ll be holding you to it,” Rrayden teased, setting the woman back on her feet. “So what’s the plan? What are we after this time?”
“Right,” Vette nodded, briefly looking over her shoulder as a Nautolan couple walked by. “So this museum, huh? It’s owned by a Hutt named Jagoonta. Strange, considering most of the Cartel was driven off Makeb during the Cold War. While the slimeball is more… ‘sophisticated’ than most of his kind - if that’s even possible…”
“I thought you liked Doctor Oggurobb back home,” Rrayden interjected. “He did give you back ‘Spewy’ all those years ago.”
“Point taken,” Vette chirped, her eyes glittering mischievously. “I wish I still had that little blaster… anyways! The artefact we’re after is called a Twi’lek Singing Stone. I’ve never seen one in person, but it’s basically used a lot in meditation.”
“Sounds like something the Jedi would use,” Rrayden muttered, quickly slipping past Vette to look behind the hedge. The line was thinning out, meaning reception would soon end. “There’s just one thing I’m concerned about. How are we going to avoid detection? After winning a war and encouraging peace… a lot of people know my face, honey.”
“Oh I know,” Vette grinned, reaching into her dress to bring out two, small devices. “Take one. I had Gault rework the holo-disguises we used on Vandin, way-back-when. Yours has been programmed to make you look like an important businessman, while my own… not much would be changed, actually. Just my skin would become more Tyrian.”
“Which is… what colour, again?” Rrayden asked, partly following along.
“Tyrian means purple, dear,” Vette said sweetly, batting her eyelids cheekily. “I’ll be your persona’s eager, eccentric wife for the evening. Shall we get going? Don’t worry about names, I sent them along with the reservations.”
“What name did you give me…? Rrayden asked, slightly concerned as Vette guided him from behind the hedge, activating her disguise just before she came into view. Rrayden quickly did the same, awkwardly following in behind her now-prancing steps.
“Come on, honey! We’re going to be late for the proceedings!” The Twi’lek had immediately changed character, putting on a cultural accent that Rrayden had rarely heard from her. “I can’t wait to look at all the lovely trinkets.”
“We have to sign in first, dear,” Rrayden muttered, clearing his throat as he attempted to add a bit of flair to his own accent, trying to match his wife’s ecstatic stride. “I do hope the gentleman stationed out front won’t be irked by our tardy arrival.”
As if on cue, a slim-built man in a dark suit and bowtie approached the couple formally, with a moustache that struck Rrayden as almost cartoony. Giving a short bow, the man began his line.
“Ah, you two must be Ser’la and Andersan Verdain,” the man said with a cheerful attitude. “I am Gestalt - your guide for this evening! And please don’t feel guilty about being late, Mr Verdain. I understand the gardens surrounding this fine establishment are quite exquisite!”
“I nearly had to drag my lovely wife away from the flowerbeds,” Mr Verdain - Rrayden - said with an exaggerated sigh. “She’s quite the gardener back home, you see.”
“I would so dearly love to retrieve some lawn clippings!” Mrs Verdain - Vette - swooned. “What fertiliser do you use, Mister Gestalt?”
“Well, ah… um…” Gestalt stammered, clearly taken aback by the request. “I’ll have to take it up with the curator, ma’am. And as for the fertiliser… I’m afraid the gardens aren’t exactly my jurisdiction. How about we discuss it over a cup of tea later on? Now, if you’ll just sign the guest book…”
A moment later after the formalities, Rrayden and Vette whilst disguised in their aliases, entered the museum’s grand lobby, where other patrons and those stationed on duty had gathered to mingle. Surprisingly, there were no Gammoreans stationed tonight. Perhaps the rumours of a sophisticated Hutt were true after all…
“Wow, would you look at this place,” Rrayden muttered, breaking character for a moment. Luckily, Gestalt wasn’t anywhere nearby, already going off to gather certain staff. Briefly pulling his wife aside, Rrayden kept his voice low. “Andersan?”
“That’s your alias, dear,” Vette giggled with a twinkle in her eye.
“I know,” Rrayden sighed, rolling his eyes humorously. “You used my brother’s name for my cover identity…”
“Was it too far?” Vette asked, her gaze flickering down, donning a meek expression. “Sorry, I should have asked. I was just… looking for name ideas, and your brother’s came to mind. You’re not mad, are you…?”
“I could never be, not at you,” Rrayden sighed, leaning in to gently kiss his wife’s forehead. “It was just… Well, sudden, I suppose. Unexpected. What’s the significance of the name ‘Ser’la’?”
“It just sounded nice,” Vette smiled, tilting her head at the man. “I don’t really remember the thought process behind it, to be honest.”
Rrayden gave a blank nod, in which Vette took the opportunity to quickly take him by the hand. Before he knew it, Rrayden was being led to the left wing of the museum, rushing - whilst trying to make sense of the situation - beside his wife.
“If I did my research correctly, The stone should be down this end,” Vette finally whispered, her accent returning to normal as the couple reached an out-of-the-way exhibit. They had left their supposed group far behind. “Let’s just hope there’s no droids stationed on guard.”
“Can we drop the disguises now, honey?” Rrayden muttered, scratching the back of his neck, taking the moment to steady his breathing.
“Yeah, sure,” Vette muttered, already hurrying down the aisles, her violet eyes scanning over each artefact on display. There seemed to be no proper theme to this part of the museum. “Before you do, could you take out those cameras for me?”
The Twi’lek vaguely motioned to the space above her, and Rrayden’s eyes followed her directed intent, finally spying the subtle security system. Showing only a slightly strained expression on his face, the man reached out with the Force. Rrayden’s hand turned into a clenched fist, crippling the electronics within the cameras. They fizzled out, now useless.
“Thanks, love!” Vette chirped, finally coming to a stop beside a tall cylindrical, and ray-shielded case. Upon approach, and after deactivating his disguise, Rrayden could see the spherical stone levitating within the energy shield. He could even hear faint whisperings and soothing melodies emanating from it.
“The Singing Stone,” Rrayden smiled, his eyes briefly glancing at the electronic datapad that provided information about the artefact. “You never mentioned it would be so… enchanting.”
“Hm?” Vette asked, looking up from her crouched position as she had begun to tinker with the datapad controls and wiring.
“You don’t hear the sounds coming from it?” Rrayden asked, almost transfixed. “It’s like it’s… well, singing.”
“Strange, I don’t hear anything,” Vette frowned, looking up at the stone. “Maybe you were right about it being a Jedi thing.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Rrayden muttered, gazing at the stone for a moment longer, before turning to look at the other exhibits on display. It was mostly comprised of animal bones and skulls, the odd artefact, and curiously enough - some poor soul trapped in carbonite. “Should we free that guy whilst we’re at it?”
“Hm?” Vette cocked her head in the direction of the frozen prisoner, before quickly returning her attention back to the console. “Nah. Those trapped in carbonite are usually put there for a good reason.”
“Hey!” Rrayden pouted, wincing as he remembered his own experience in the prison. He knew his wife meant no harm by the jest.
“Sorry, just teasing, honey,” Vette grinned back, grunting as she knelt lower under the panel. “I mean, it’s a good idea. Usually I would, but we have no idea who the guy is inside, or how long he’s been in there for. Are you alright to catch the stone on my mark? I think I’ve nearly got the controls…”
Rrayden barely had enough time to prepare himself, as the rayshield controls, and those of the whole display deactivated. Just before the Singing Stone dropped to the floor, Rrayden redirected it into his outstretched hand. Surprisingly enough, the ball-shaped rock felt warm in his grasp.
“One Twi’lek Singing Stone for the lady,” Rrayden grinned, offering the artefact to Vette mocked nobility. “I forgot how good you were with that.”
“It was actually quite easy,” Vette winked, gratefully accepting the stone into her own hands, putting it away in a safe compartment in her dress. “It’s almost like they’re wanting it to be stolen.”
“I thought you said we were retrieving it,” Rrayden chuckled, extending his hand to help his wife get to her feet. “To its rightful owners.”
“Potato, pot-ah-to,” Vette smirked, humming softly as she gave the man a quick kiss on his cheek. “Better put that disguise back on, by the way. Hopefully Gestalt hasn’t noticed our departure just yet…”