DAGGERS OF THE MIND
By LS
CHAPTER ONE – FAIR IS FOUL, AND FOUL IS FAIR
"Where's your suitcase?"
The blue Twi'lek turns to his girlfriend. "What? Why?"
Without answering, she pops the lid on his suitcase, picks out one of his shirts, and pulls it over her head. "That explain it?" she asks, pulling her hair from the collar. "Ouch. Hang on, I think my hair snagged on something…"
The Twi'lek rolls his eyes. "Humans," he mutters as he comes behind his girlfriend to untangle her hair.
She shrugs. "This shirt isn't made for humans."
"We'll have to get you some new clothes once we land." He points out.
"You too. When are we landing?"
He looks out the porthole. "Judging from the distance between us and the planet, I'd say an hour at most."
"And we have all our stuff?" she checks.
"We have everything."
The young woman saunters in front of him. "Onderon, huh? Pretty planet."
"I've seen better." He says grumpily.
"Jack," his girlfriend argues. "This is the best shot we have. Nobody's going to look for us on some Inner Rim world that nobody cares about."
"If we wanted apathy, we should have gone for the Outer Rim!"
"Like that's an option." She says sarcastically. "It's not safe there. We need somewhere, somewhere we can blend in with the lower population without having to worry about bounty hunters, or the Hutts. On worlds like these, nobody notices people like us. It's just a matter of finding a place, finding a job, and settling down."
Jack wraps his arms around her from behind, looking at the planet below them.
"How can I say no to a face like that?"
His girlfriend playfully brushes his arms off her shoulders.
"Don't you ever forget it." She orders, ever-so-slightly swaying her hips as she steps across the tiny cabin to fetch her jacket. "Give me a few minutes to get fixed up. Gotta look nice when we move in."
…
Jack covers her eyes when they walk off the transport.
"I swear to gods Jack, if I trip…"
"Don't worry, Mar." Jack reassures. "It's not much farther. Take a step…another…"
He pulls his hands from her face and she opens her eyes.
"It's better than I imagined it," she remarks, taking in the shining sun and bright blue skies, the people crisscrossing the cobblestone streets.
"You were right," Jack concedes. "It's perfect for us."
She glances over to him, looking at the two suitcases at their feet and the vast city before them.
"We don't have jobs yet," she says. "And with no jobs, no food, no utilities, no…"
"Don't worry about it, babe." Jack chides, putting his arms around her again. "Let's go find ourselves a house."
"Where do we start?"
"I don't know." Jack shrugs. "But I'm sure you'll pick a good one."
…
On Ryloth, a young man named Gon knocks on his friend's door.
"Rassk?" he calls inside to his friend. "Rassk, open up. You were supposed to be at work three hours ago. You're going to be lucky if the boss doesn't fire your lazy rear end."
No answer. Gon tries the door again.
"What is it this time? Beer or juma?" he says grumpily. "You can't mope around at home every time you get a hangover, Rassk. You do it too often to do that and pretty soon, you'll be lucky to catch a job if someone throws it at you. This is your third one this year and it's nothing fancy, but it pays."
Again, no answer.
"Come on, if it's that bad I'll let you have a few sips from my flask to help kill it." Gon offeres, passing on another gem of pseudo-wisdom famous among the young and the restless. "Or I'll brew you some caf in the back room. The boss won't care as long as you're working."
When no sound filters in from under the door, Gon decides that Rassk must be sleeping his hangover off, the lazy good-for-nothing. They may have bonded over their mutual love of girls and hardcore jawa juice, but there's a time and a place for such things.
One must have a job to pay for all that jawa juice.
He sighs, reaches above the door frame and retrieves Rassk's spare key. Gon forces it into the lock, twists, and opens the door.
The smell invades his nose instants after the door opens. Gon immediately covers the lower half of his face.
"Rassk!" he shouts, even louder. "Wake up! Force, whatever you did in here smells awful!"
He glances around Rassk's mostly bare kitchen to see if his friend had left food out to spoil in Ryloth's heat, but nothing is on the counters or the stove, and the oven is suspiciously bare.
The sound of buzzing comes from another room.
Must be his comlink, Gon thinks, setting off toward the source of the sound. "Rassk, if you don't get your rear out of bed right now, I don't care if you lose your job. Have fun finding another one, you lousy son of a -."
He stops cold.
In the middle of Rassk's filthy rug, thousands of insects gather in one spot to crawl over the orange-skinned body of the apartment's owner.
It suddenly hits him what he's been smelling the entire time.
Gon blinks hard.
And vomits.
…
In an apartment in downtown Iziz, Saw Gerrera flops down on his couch and grabs the remote to turn on his television.
He absently scrolls through the channels for a while, not finding anything worth his time. All of the comedies are too contrived, the action shows unnecessarily violent, the holodramas too saccharine to entertain himself with. Kriff, he barely ever watches it except for the news and sports.
The news won't be on for another fifteen minutes, so Saw flips to the sports channel. No one that he cares about is playing. Disgusted, he turns off the television.
"All the times we fought over the one set in base," he grumbles, directing his gaze to a bejeweled music box on the coffee table, "And now I can't even pick the shows I want to watch."
He scoops the box into his hands, mindlessly turning it over. "It's funny how life messes with you, Steela. First it's the HoloNet, and then it's me working in the palace like you always wanted to, and…" He sets the box on the table and delicately lifts the lid, closing his eyes and letting the music wash over him. It flows into his veins, soothing them like salve; Saw has never heard the simple song before, but it sounds almost like Steela's voice if he listens hard.
He kicks back in his seat and closes his eyes. Might as well snooze away fifteen minutes until the news comes on. It's not like you have anything better to do.
Saw leans back in his saggy couch and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. Maybe he should invest in better furniture; he always ends up snoring on the couch more than in his bed.
A hard knock on the door startles his out of his drowsiness.
"Who is it?"
"Galactic postal service, sir. You have a delivery."
Saw groans and lifts himself off the couch. "I'm comin', I'm comin'." He grumbles. Honestly, who would send him a package? He doesn't have any well-wishers and nobody knows his address, unless some random citizen sniffed him out and decided to send him a "we're-sorry-your-sister-died-but-thank-you-for-liberating-Onderon" gift. Saw doesn't like them, he's annoyed by the packages actually, but he knows some of the others deserve them so he doesn't say anything. Most of the time he just scratches out his name and sticks the gifts on his friends' doorsteps.
He opens the door. "If it's a present, can you just take it to -?"
A blaster pistol cracks against his forehead.
"AUGH!"
Saw fumbles for his coffee table, trying to find his blaster before he remembers it's uncharged – and the battery is on his kitchen counter. Stupid, stupid, stupid, why didn't you charge the blaster?
The attacker elbows him hard and shoves his way into the apartment, stopping only to haul Saw farther into the house and throw him into the nearest wall.
Saw hits the floor. He tries to struggle to his feet, but the lick of fire in his skull stops him cold.
His apartment door opens and shuts, followed by someone else's lighter footsteps.
"Jack?"
"We're good, Mar. He's not going anywhere."
Jack and Mar. Their names are Jack and Mar – you need to remember that.
Saw forces himself to roll over. A young woman stands in his doorway, her hair gathered in two braided pigtails. For some reason, Saw can't take his eyes from them. They look so strange.
Focus, he orders himself. Jack and Mar. Blonde pigtails. The guy's a blue Twi'lek. I've got to get my gun…
Mar readjusts her footing. "Why are you just standing there?"
"Just go through the house, willya?"
The woman's boots swivel and she walks down the hallway into Saw's kitchen. "Looks good so far, but don't do anything yet."
"I won't," the Twi'lek confirms, casually waving his blaster at Saw. "Let me know when I can."
Saw coughs and tries to muster up some air to speak, but the man kicks him hard in the ribs. "Shut up."
He walks over to the coffee table and trains his eyes down to the datapad, the empty beer can, the random letters and pieces of flimsi scattered over the surface, and…
Saw struggles to raise himself on an elbow and gropes toward the table.
Not that. You can have anything else in the house, but not that.
The Twi'lek scoops up the music box, and his face changes as he listens to the song, the song that sounds like a sweet little girl's.
Saw reaches for it fruitlessly.
Jack glowers at him and grabs the box, holding a slugthrower to Saw. "Stay down. I'm sorry pal, but you're getting evicted today."
If it was a blaster he would hear the batteries charge, but instead the man pulls back a mechanical slide. Saw digs his fingers into the carpet, praying he'll have the strength to throw himself into the Twi'lek and knock him down. If anything, it'll improve his measly odds.
The hammer clicks and Saw channels all his strength to his arms.
"Jack!"
The gun drops and before Saw can do anything, Jack brings a booted foot hard into his side.
"What, Mar?"
The woman returns and closes ranks with the Twi'lek. The pack around her shoulders bulges with what Saw can only assume are his possessions, and she's holding something in her hand.
Saw squints to make out the image, but he can't.
The woman hands the rectangular object to the man. "Look at this."
The man tilts the object, and Saw realizes what it is: the holo of him and Steela that sits on his bedside table.
He croaks and reaches for the man again. Reaching for the holo, the music box…his things.
"We can't do it … need to find a different place … I think I recognize … can't … no … you …. our … you."
The woman sets the holo in front of Saw.
"Is that box what's making the music? It's beautiful."
"Yeah. I say we keep it."
With all the energy he has, Saw roars.
Jack whips out his blaster – no, a slugthrower - and fires a shot into his leg.
"Time to go," he mutters and races out the door.
Saw lays on his apartment floor, bleeding as he watches the two leave.
Help. Police, Steela, somebody... help me.
His eyes catch the holo before he blacks out.
And so we begin again with a new story. You all know I know no way to end chapters but with a huge cliffhanger. (Saw blacked out on his apartment floor after being robbed of his late sister's stuff might be a little much for a first chapter.)
Slugthrowers, for those who are unfamiliar, are the SW name for guns that use bullets.
Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it, and please leave a review! I wish you all much turkey and mashed potatoes tomorrow.
Until next time,
LS