Fic: HSU: Fold and Thrust Belt
Author: Shana Nolan
Rating: RRA (rocky roads ahead)
Disclaimer: I own nuthin' of this. Leave me be or I'll hold the Nutella for ransom.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Okay, Caeryn, say it again."

The Dean growled. "No."

Shana took out the empty jar of Nutella again. "This is your future if you don't admit it. Now say it."

"No."

"You're a fragging geologist type, so don't give me that look. You know about chemistry and nature of rocks," there was a pause as the Director of Student Affairs grinned slightly, "and magma."

"There is no possible way to make Nutella from cubic zirconia."

"Impossible."

"Completely."

There was a satisfying sound as the empty jar was once more placed in its drawer, two high heeled Alderaani boots settling on top of a stack of student admission forms. "Besides, they're real."

"Well..."

Shana waved a hand around. "Do you think the General is that blind? He rides a Ducati, wears handmade leather pants and keeps us coming back for more. That man knows a real rock from the fake kind ten paces away... and if not, Emmy will inform him."

Caeryn nodded.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get all these forms finished. You know, that Mistress of Paperwork title is not self-refreshing."

With a shrug and a quick snatch of the still laden jar of Nutella on the desk, the Dean strolled out of the office, pondering what she should do. There was nothing on her desk waiting to be approved and she didn't have the urge to watch a movie or anything...

She did however have a General urge.

But he had cancelled appointments. All of them

Suddenly, with a mad gleam in her eye, Caeryn turned around and headed for her private quarters.

There was work to do.

~*~

Emmy and Diebin sat across from each other, staring at the piece of paper in the other's hand.

"Well?"

"You first."

"No, you."

Emmy sat up straighter, adjusting the tiara so it would stop shoving her hair in her face. "It was my idea to come up with this list thing in the first place, you have to say your suggestions first."

Diebin sighed and hummed a tune. Normal Al was getting to her, or maybe it was the marathon repeat of "Headline News." Either way, she was stuck humming a strange, polka-ized song. "Okay, fine. #1-- Send him back home to daddy."

"He doesn't have a father, remember?"

Diebin wrinkled her nose and scratched out a few lines. "So what about you?"

"Rig his astromech droid to blow up as soon as he gets within ten inches of it."

"Emmy, that's messy, and he said the droid was an astronav, not a astromech."

Crossing her arms, striking a Diva stance, Emmy pointed to the nearby bookshelf and stack of books, including one tech manual. "It's that or get stuck with chatty droid and his asthma boy maker."

"Oh. Okay, how's this. We send him to a podracing competition... on Dagobah."

"Nah, we already have that planet set aside for the troll."

"Ship him in a very small box to Abu Dabi?"

Emmy raised an eyebrow. "That's better."

"What about yours?"

There was a pause. "You don't want to hear them. Won't work."

Diebin got up and walked around, peering over the Alpha Ho's shoulder despite the warning gaze.

"Um, Emmy, that's not a nice thing to do with pruning shears..."

~*~

"Frack!!"

Diving under her desk, pulling up the rug and throwing it out of the way, Shana bit back a growl and peered under the huge piece of furniture.

That damn piece of paper had to be somewhere.

"Where are you... ooooh... if that little piece of golden scrap parts doesn't get his robotic ass back here soon I'm trading him in for a new secretary... come on you stupid thing... can't be missing, had it yesterday... and of course I can't process the damn transfer student application without it!"

And then her hand hit something... warm... and a little squishy.

"Ew, ew, ew, ew, ewwwww!"

Rearing back, banging her head on the underside of the desk, Shana growled and dug blindly around a drawer for a flashlight, finding one, but not after piercing a finger on the stapler.

"That better not be you Sugar."

Turning it on, the auburn haired Ho cast the light behind the drawers, twisting so she could see whatever she was illuminating.

"Its one of those salamander things! Argh! Come here you fuzzy little Yslamiri, I have a terrarium for you. And oh, what's this?"

Pulling back, using the wrinkled paper she had just found to draw out the squishy salamander thing, Shana blinked the dust out of her eyes.

"Hmm, this would be what I was looking for..."

Grabbing the empty Nutella jar and throwing the little creature in, she held the paper a little away from her good clothes. Whatever it used to be, it was now covered in dust bunnies and something that was probably Yslamiri turd.

"Okay, I give up. Toxic waste bin for you."

And then she noticed the application sitting on her desk... missing its credit transcript.

"Frack!"

Grabbing the closest pen, flipping it over to the admin-only box, Shana shrugged and, on the class level space, filled in "freshman."

~*~

"I still don't think 'dismembering and feeding him to the fishes' will work, Em. This isn't a mob movie."

Balling up her fourth piece of paper, the Diva chucked it at the other's Ho head, smiling as it bounced off Diebin's shoulder. "What, you want me to be nice? I'm running out of ideas."

Diebin threw her hands up in the air. "Well, outside of mailing him to blue lightning guy, David and George or Anne Landers, we're out of ideas."

A perfectly manicured nail was leveled at the cat suit. "You're the one who vetoed the 'bury him under the Hooters floorboards with all the icky Force lizards' idea."

"I'm not driving to Testosterone County for a nineteen year old Sithspawn."

"True." She had a point. "So why don't we do it and make it look like an accident?"

"That would involve spying on him."

"Your point being?"

"Oh. So when do you start tracking him, Emmy?"

The Supah Diva glared. "You're doing it."

"No I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

Diebin suddenly had the image of being shoved into something she wasn't sure she wanted to do. "Rock-paper-scissors?"

"Fine. One, two, three."

Diebin chewed her lip and...
  
"Hahah, go do it."

Diebin stared at her scissors. She should have known better that the Alpha Ho would pick something big, round and crushing.

"Two out of three?"

~*~

"If this doesn't work, I'm breaking out the oysters and wine."

Standing in the mirror of her room, staring at her work, Caeryn grinned. If there was one thing that was guaranteed (by Ho Insurance) to get the General back on his appointments, it was NSG.

Giving her hair a final touch of pigtails, she tugged at the knee high socks, making sure they were nice and smooth rising up her legs from the Mary Janes.

"And THIS is what being a Ho is all about."

~*~

"I can't believe I've been sacrificing all this precious training time with Anakin for the grrls. I have a responsibility, I have a duty, I have a--"

The office door crashed open.

"--desk that must be abused at least three times a day!"

The General blinked. "Caeryn?"

"Can it."

About to reprimand her for forcing the door open, his voice caught in his throat as he observed what she was wearing. The plaid skirt the Dean was wearing cut off high up on her thigh, the edge just dancing at the bottom of her butt, and the white oxford was unbuttoned just enough to expose flesh and the edges of a black bra...

"Naughty School Girl?"

Caeryn took a few steps, letting the skirt flip.

The General gulped. "I really don't have time for this. I have to prepare for Anakin's lessons."

"No," she fingered a button on the Oxford, "you have to get naked."

"But I have a...um..."

Turning around so her back was to him and bending down to adjust one of her socks, Caeryn heard the intake of breath. It was working, like it always did.

NSG never failed.

"So, General, can you help me with my geology homework? I have to study slip shift faults and that fold and thrust belt has me a bit... worked up."

Throwing the Jedi Manual (tm) aside, the General leapt over his desk, set his hands on her waist and crushed Ho lips to his own, missing the "meeep" Caeryn managed shortly before being dropped to the floor.

NSG never EVER failed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*