Orphic Verboten

Amber Penglass

Prologue

Location: Unknown

"A mining asteroid, you say?"

"Statement: Yes, that is where I am currently located and awaiting further orders to facilitate the removal of my quarry."

"Patience, HK-50, patience," the thin man leaned back in his chair, peering at the hologram that floated before him while emitting an eerie blue glow into the dark room.

"Irritated declaration: Patience is already one of my primary routine functions, master."

"Of course it is," the man placated. "But back to the matter at hand, please. You said you have located a few who would be willing to…assist the Exile on her way off the facility?"

"Explanation: The miner Coorta is most interested in the insurmountable bounty you have placed on the Jedi, master, and is very willing to facilitate communications regarding her removal in exchange for that bounty."

"I see. This is quite convenient." He paused a moment, thinking. "This turn of events does not require, I think, any major alteration to my plans. I am sending you some intel, HK-50. You are to steer this Coorta fellow to the smuggler Atton Rand. Contact me when you have word that Coorta has contacted him."

"Statement: Understood, master."

The blue image flickered, then vanished all together.

Goto leaned back into his deep black chair once more, steepleing his fingers as a rare hint of a smile coaxed the corners of his thin mouth upwards. He let himself savor the way his future seemed to flow out before him, falling neatly into place, just as things always did for him.

But no, he was getting ahead of himself, and he still had a bit more work to do tonight…

Location: Nar Shaddaaa Refugee Commons

It was dark, inside the cargo compartment that served as a shabby single-room abode. The only light came from a small lamp at the head of what passed for a bed. Little more than a pallet, it was old, worn, and the current resting place of a man who slept shirtless, his bare arms and legs flung about himself haphazardly, locks of dark brown hair flopping down over his brow, a brow that was scrunched with the dreams of the guilt-plagued…

There was a sudden, insistent pounding on the cargo compartment's 'door,' and Atton Rand was just as suddenly fully awake. He grabbed a small sonic blaster from its place beneath his pillow and stuck it into the back of his waistband, then snatched a limp linen vest, shrugging it on as he approached the ceiling-to-floor flaps that served as doors. He ran a hand through his bed-hair once before shoving open one of those flaps.

"Adana?" he asked blearily, blinking the sleep from his eyes. The pretentious little blonde girl gazed up at him, arms crossed over her young chest.

"There's some Exchange people looking for you," she told him, all traces of the fear he knew was there well hidden. For an eleven year old. Adana had grown up faster than most… It pained him, sometimes, to see the cheeky kid manhandled into adulthood. But most of the time he was just satisfied that she'd taken to 'adulthood' so well. Girl knew the score, and knew how to keep that score on her side enough to stay alive.

"What do they want?" he asked, giving the flap a nudge to let her in. He moved to where his shirts lay flung over the single plasteel container, slipping off the vest he'd just put on and replaced it with his shirts, layered three thick, topped with his all-time favorite ribbed drexl leather, sleeveless jacket.

"Dunno," the blonde said, shrugging. The –brief- sight of a half-naked man was nothing new to her, and for all the other refugees warned her and the others away from him –on the word of a few twi'leks, and no more- she'd never once not trusted him. It was humbling for Atton, in a way. Even a kid could see how completely castrated he'd been lately…

He shook it off, pulling on his fingerless gloves. "How many?" He asked. The Exchange coming around for him was nothing new; they'd been after him to join them for a while now. Atton wasn't interested.

"Just a few. Something about a message, I think," she frowned, pondering, then shrugged. Atton clipped his jack-of-all-kinds-of-shit belt around his waist, stuck his sonic blaster and his holdout blaster into their holsters, then laid a heavy hand to ruffling Adana's short hair on his way out.

"Stay here, or get back to your mom," he told her. "Steer clear til I get back."

"I can take care of myself!" She huffed, but Atton's only response was to fling up a hand in farewell as he sauntered through the thin crowd that was the refugee commons.

It was just as Adana had told him. Four Exchange thugs stood waiting by the entrance to the ramp that would take a journeyer up and out of the commons and into the Refugee Sector. They spotted him after he saw them. Some of them tensed, while others remained cocky when they saw he was alone.

"Hear you boys have a message for me," Atton called when he was within hearing distance. "Damn, I knew that twi'lek dancer from the pazaak den was into me, but to send all of you boys? Phew, she must have had a better time than I thought, and that's saying something." His grin remained bright and flippant, even when the two humans and two rodians deepened their glowers.

/Pale one thinks he's amusing/ one of the Rodians hissed in his own choking language. Atton knew enough of the more common non-basic languages to grasp the gist of what most species said around him. And what he couldn't figure out, his hand-dandy translator could.

"Just come quietly, filth, and we won't get violent with your friends," one of the two humans growled. Atton glanced over his shoulder, eyebrow raised, to spy a handful of refugees gathered around him. More to hear what was going on than to back him up. But the Exchange guy didn't know that…

Sticking his hands in his pockets and flashing a confident grin he said, "All right, take me to your leader."

Location: Nar Shaddaa Exchange Headquarters

"Lord Saquesh, we've brought him."

Atton resisted the urge to recoil at the whiff of pure Quarren that assaulted his nostrils. He'd heard that this stench was actually pleasant to squid-heads, but he'd never believe it. He took note of the two…whatever-they-weres stationed on either end of the large room. Bodyguards, most likely. Saquesh turned from whatever it was he was doing at a state-of-the-art computer console.

/Ah, I thought I smelled something…/ the over-dressed alien gurgled.

Atton bit back a retort involving a question of if Quarrens even knew what a fresher was. So far, no one had said anything about him joining the Exchange, and he was beginning to wonder if the message excuse hadn't been an excuse at all. But who would contact him through the Exchange?

"Someone said you had a message for me?" Atton settled for the straight to the point approach. He had plenty of wit for later.

/Yes, yes. My boss, Goto, has a job for you/ If possible, some emotion made its way through the hiccupping that was Quarrenese; indignation.

Goto. Briefly, Atton went over what he knew of the mysterious crime boss. Head of the entire Exchange in the local Y'toub system. Elusive, impossible to find unless he wanted you.

/Follow me; we don't want to keep him waiting./ Saquesh turned, his long robes trailing after him. Giving a brief glance to the terse guards around him, Atton grit his teeth and followed the Quarren. Out of the operations room, past the tables anchored from the ceiling in what passed for the antechamber, into the wide hall and into another room. All the while they were flanked by two Gamorreans, big, hulking, snorting beasts with dripping snouts. Atton had never liked them, and he liked them even less now that they were eyeing him with beady, empty eyes that were just waiting for him to make a wrong move…

/Here we are./ Saquesh stood aside to let Atton into the small room. Atton peeked inside before cautiously passing over the threshold, his hands itching for his blasters. He spied a table, a chair, a few plasteel containers –probably empty- and little else. He half-turned to ask what he was supposed to do, but the door had already slid shut. Tensing, Atton waited to hear the shift of a lock. When he didn't hear it, he let himself relax a bit and turned back to the room.

Ah, he'd missed something. There was a holo emitter on the table, and it was beeping now. Atton went and sat at the table, eyeing the thing the whole while. With one cautious, capable hand he reached out and flicked the thing on. Instantly the stately form of a short, thin, well-dressed man appeared in flickering blue 3-D form.

"Greetings, young Atton. I don't expect you to recognize me, but I do expect you to know who I am. I am Goto, and as you no doubt have already been informed, I have a job for you."

"What makes you think I'm interested in anything you have for me, job or otherwise?" Atton leaned back in the chair, crossed his arms and exuded an air of sheer lazy confidence. It was a look he'd perfected over the years. The hologram before him smiled with equal lazy confidence, and it made Atton suddenly aware that he was very, very within the reaches of people who answered to this man.

"I know you'll be interested, because I know that for all you view your residence in the Refugee Sector a part of some self-inflicted punishment you are quite ready to be out on your own again." Goto's stance shifted, just a bit. Atton prided himself on reading body language, but he couldn't think of anything that the small alteration in posture could mean. "It is a simple task, but it requires the skills of someone with your…background to be sufficiently successful. Am I making myself clear?"

"Try being a little crystalline, just in case," Atton challenged out of hand. He squared his jaw; he knew very good and well what Goto was referring to when he'd mentioned his 'background.' It wasn't much a secret, really. It wasn't confirmed, but it wasn't secret either.

"Very well, I shall indulge you." Another ever so slight shift in pose, as equally indefinable as the last. "There is an exiled Jedi by the name of Aelyn Drae whose services I wish to procure. I am quite certain, however, that she will not hear me out willingly. Therefore I have arranged for her to be…detained until someone –someone like yourself- can persuade her to grant me an audience."

"You want me to kidnap a Jedi." Goto had been right; it was bullseye up Atton's old alley. An alley he had no wish to revisit.

"No, no, that has already been dealt with. Now, I simply need an…escort. Jedi are quite valuable nowadays, as you well know. It would be most unfortunate for myself and others if after all the trouble I've gone to in order to find her were wasted if she were to, say, face an untimely demise."

Atton paused, mulling over the package of info and offers that had just been dropped into his lap. So he wouldn't be kidnapping anyone. He'd just be making sure she got back to this Goto –who apparently only wanted to talk to her- unharmed. Could he handle that? It wouldn't break any of the promises he'd made to himself after…

Mentally, he shook himself.

But he would have to fight the chit, no doubt. He'd never met a Jedi who would willing stay captured. And he'd met plenty of captured Jedi…

"She won't be harmed." It wasn't so much of a question as it was a confirmation.

"Dear boy, why ever would I want to harm a single, lone, broken Jedi? There are some who have grudges against their religion, it is true, enough for them to go to extramountaneous lengths to procure a single of their order for their own vengeful pleasure, but I assure you I am not so petty as that."

"Good to hear it," Atton responded absently, still mulling it all over. His gaze strayed for a bit, then snapped back to the hologram. "What's in it for me?"

"Ah, ever the Sith, I see. Old habits die hard, do they not?" At Atton's sudden stiffness and rising up from his seat, Goto continued with a humorless chuckle. "A ship. The ship you would use to escape the place the Jedi currently resides would be yours, legally. It originally belonged to the Exchange, in any case. The ship, plus a notable amount of universal credits, and of course my eternal gratitude would be yours. And in this system, boy, that is worth far more than any number of credits or any ship. After the Jedi is safely conveyed to my personal yacht, you will be free to go wherever your pilot's heart desires."

A war waged within Atton. He'd sworn he'd never, ever willing even look at another Jedi again.

But…a ship…enough creds to start over…maybe enough to do something worthwhile… Atton had never stopped believing that there had to have been a reason that woman had saved him at such a high price. He supposed it was time he stopped wallowing in greedy guilt and got off his ass –and this moon- and started trying to figure out what it was she'd saved him for. And to do that, he'd need money. To get money, he needed Goto.

He raises his eyes from where they'd lowered to stare at the grey tabletop, and stared straight into where the hologram's eyes would be.

"All right," he said slowly. "Give me the details. I'm in- for now."

"Now, now, I don't accept half-heartedness. From any of my employees."

"Fine," Atton replied tersely. "I'm in. Period. Happy?"

"Immensely," was the fleeting reply. "Now, within the next few days you will receive a message from one 'Coorta.' He is a miner aboard the Peragus II mining facility who will wish to talk to you about smuggling the Jedi off Peragus to sell to me. He will not know we have already spoken. You are to accept the job with appropriate questioning and deliberation. Then you will return here, and my dear Saquesh will have you escorted to the docks where you will be given passage on a freighter to Citadel Station on Telos. From there you will stow away aboard a re-supply ship bound for the mining colony on Peragus II."

"Then I meet this Coorta guy, get the Jedi, hijack that ship, and high tail it back to you," Atton filled in the rest in summarized form. It made him sound like a bounty hunter.

"Precisely," Goto confirmed smoothly. If he was pleased that Atton had caught on, he didn't show it. "When you meet Saquesh, he will give you the amount owed to Coorta. I trust all of it will make it to his hands…"

Atton didn't dignify the veiled accusation with a reply. "Speaking of credits," he said instead. "What kind of numbers were you talking about, for me?"

Goto named a number.

Atton nearly kicked himself. He veiled his surprise, but Goto saw the shift in his posture nonetheless, and smiled dryly.

"Any other questions?"

Atton had none. Goto bid him farewell, reminded him of how many ears he had and how they were all over, then the hologram vanished with a crackling snap. Behind and to the left of him, Atton heard the door open. Glancing over, he saw the two Gamorreans ready to 'escort' him out.

Saquesh didn't meet him on his way out, which was fine with Atton. He could go forever without smelling that rancid rotting seaweed stench.

Adana was waiting for him when he got back to his own rancid rotting abode. He didn't see her until he'd flicked on his lamp and shrugged his shoulders out of his ribbed vest. He nearly clobbered the girl with that vest when he'd tossed it towards his pallet. It missed her, but barely, and the thud of leather against the durasteel wall was enough to wake the sleeping blonde. Sitting up and rubbing her eyes, she yawned before peering at Atton through the dim light.

"He offered you a job, didn't he?" The shrewd child commented. Atton stared at her for a moment, then shook his head.

"Yeah," he admitted.

"It's going to take you away from here, isn't it?"

Atton paused. Then, "Yeah, for a while. Why, getting attached to me?" He looked over his shoulder to toss the girl a teasing smile, only to find her standing up, eyes glistening slightly as she moved towards him and wrapped her small arms around his waist.

"I'm gonna miss you," she sniffled uncharacteristically.

"Hey, hey…" he patted her on the head before sighing and wrapping his arms around her, too. "I'll be back," he told her. "And I'm not leaving for a while, anyways."

"Doesn't matter," Adana sighed, pulling away, scuffing her falling-apart-shoe-toe against the dirty floor.

"Sure it does." He knelt down on one knee, and slid one hooked finger beneath her childish chin, tilting her newly wet face up to look at him. "I'll do the job, and I'll come back to check up on ya. I promise. See?" He held up his hand, vertical. Adana clasped it, and he shook it, scoundrel-like. She smiled a bit, as if amused. He ruffled her hair as he stood back up.

"Bet you're mom's worried," he told her. "So get. I'll see you later."

Adana left with a brief farewell, leaving Atton to sigh into the dark.

Location: Nar Shaddaa, Refugee Commons

As Goto promised, Atton got his second communication within the next few days. One of the paid runnerboys that frequented the Refugee Sector delivered a cheap datapad one late evening. It was obviously the boy's last run of the night, and he was equally obviously itching to get back to whatever or wherever he called home. Atton scrounged up the creds to pay him to wait a bit, then sat down to read what the miner Coorta had to say.

It was exactly as Goto had said it would be. Coorta was brief, explaining that he had a Jedi in his possession but no way to get her to the Exchange that had posted such a delectable bounty. He'd been referred to Atton, told he had experience in dealing and subduing Jedi, and was offering to share the bounty with him in exchange for the simple service of conveying the Jedi to the Exchange. He outlined the plan for distracting his coworkers so Atton could get the Jedi off Peragus, then named the percentage he was willing to throw Atton's way.

Atton's response was equally brief, stating he accepted, approximately when to expect him, and little else. He handed it to the boy who ran off quickly enough, then locked the door flaps behind him, and settled down into his pallet.

He'd visit Saquesh in the morning.

Location: Peragus II Mining Facility

"Yeah? Whada you want?" Coorta demanded of the life-sized hologram of one of the newer workers on Peragus, the one that had just popped up in the middle of the bunk room he shared with three other numbskulls.

"I wish to inform you that I am aware that you have contacted the smuggler Atton Rand, and that I also know you just received confirmation of his acceptance."

"So? What's it to you? You want a referral cut, or something?" He sneered. "Fine, I'm a decent enough guy, I'll throw something your way."

"To correct you, I do not desire currency." The newcomer's face remained suspiciously, emotionlessly blank. "I merely desire to once again open communications with you, and make you aware that you will need my assistance to get the Jedi off this facility."

"I'm listening…"

The miner droned on, detailing how he would sabotage the facility-wide sensors that detected lethal gas in populated areas so that it would give an alert for the administration level, the level that held the medical facility. Coorta grudgingly admitted it was a good idea, and as he was just a mining foreman, not a tech, he would need this stranger's computer expertise if he were to do this. To be honest, he hadn't really thought about getting the Jedi to the Exchange past finding a smuggler…now that he'd found one, he had the issue of getting the Jedi to the smuggler.

"All right," he said after a painstaking moment. Coorta was not one to admit he needed anyone else. Ever. "The smuggler's supposed to be here next week. Contact me when you're ready to go ahead, and I'll give you the signal when he gets here. Apparently the guy's gotta go all the way to Citadel Station first, then he's supposed to comm me and let me know which supply freighter he'll be on. Then when that ship docks, you set off the alarms."

"Affirmative. I will inform you when my preparations are complete. I look forward to working with you." Then he was gone, and Coorta was left with the unsettling feeling that there was more to what was going on than he knew…

Five days later –sooner than expected- Coorta got a summoning wave from one of his superiors when following his team up and out of the suffocating mining tunnels.

"Yeah, boss?" he asked, pulling off his smoky goggles.

"Call for you. Take it in my office, if you want. I know how damn tough it is to hear anything in that excuse for a commons." He left it at that, and moved to follow the rest of the crowd to the call of food.

Coorta was immediately suspicious. In the boss's office? It wasn't unheard of, but it was rare, and no one liked Coorta; the boss was no exception. But what could he do? If he refused the call, he couldn't count on this Atton Rand calling back- may assume Coorta had backed out. Preparing himself to be on guard for spies and recording devices that could get him caught –and keeping in mind that he should try and keep all suspicious terms out of the conversation- he headed for the aforementioned office.

He shut and locked the security door behind him, and went to the desk. Not bothering to sit, he accessed the beeping console. There was no hologram, but the unmistakable voice of someone who'd seen too much and tried to feel too little met Coorta's ears.

"Thought you'd never answer," the voice groused.

"Rand?" Coorta ventured.

"One and only," was the reply.

Before he could say anything that would overtly jeopardize Coorta's immediate freedom he said, "So, old friend, when are you planning on stopping by? Got some boys –and girls- here eager to meet you." He tried to sound jovial, but too jovial. If anyone was listening, overt casualness might be just as damning as if he came right out and said 'I'm violating the security officer's biggest rule right here, that's right! Right here!'

Atton Rand said nothing for a moment, then, "Looks like it might be a little later than expected, sorry. I tried to bribe," his voice took on a joking manner, here. "the pilot of one of those rickety old supply freighters that come around to you guys every month, but no go. He said the only room for me would be in the fuel tanks. And, well, you know, since I'm fond of breathing…"

Coorta faked a laugh, translating the 'code speech' to mean that Atton would arrive on the next freighter, and would make his way on to the station by way of the fuel lines. Clever. Dangerous, but clever. "Yeah, yeah, that's too bad," he said, distractedly. He'd have to make sure he was standing around the fuel controls so he could open the right hatches at the right time…he'd have to watch the cameras.

"So, you haven't changed your mind about coming? You know, what with all these accidents that go on, sending us scurrying to the closest shelter til the alarms let us know we can come out... Last time, I had to hide in the medical wing." Which, thankfully, was actually true. Fate, Coorta thought, must be on his side.

"Na, I'll be fine. You know I got over my phobia of loud noises long time ago." Static, and Rand's voice began fading. "Anyways, gotta go."

"All right then, I'll see you soon." Then Atton Rand was gone, and Coorta was left satisfied that had anyone been evesdropping, no one would be the wiser. He left the office and headed for the mess hall. He had about another day to relax before the next re-supply freighter was due…

Location: Re-Supply Ship 'Calor.'

'If I never catch another whiff of any kind of fuel ever again, it'll be way, way too soon,' Atton thought. Even through the state of the art rebreather mask he'd swindled out of a bothan trader on Nar Shaddaa before leaving on this wild pick-up, he could smell oh so strongly the acidic vapor of Peregian fuel. The leather clothing he wore was more bulky and heavy than he was used to, and thus for him wasseveral shades of awkward, but it kept the fumes from gnawing at his skin. Still, he couldn't help but wonder if the smell of fuel would ever completely be scrubbed off… He wondered if, once he managed to sneak onto Peragus, he would manage to steal enough time to find a fresher before picking up the Jedi on his way out…

Wishful thinking, and he knew it. So he sighed, hunkered down with what he hoped was only a mildly unmanly pout of disgruntled discomfort, and waited another five hours amid the pipes and wires high above the massive ship's fuel tanks.

When he finally heard the heavy whirl and clang of the engines lowering in output, then the grating screech of them coming to an altogether halt, he knew it was time. With a faint sigh of relief that he was at last getting to move, Atton dropped down from the scaffolding and landed heavily atop one of the tanks. He set to manhandling the hatch atop the tank open, then hauling it out of his way. He managed to squeeze the bulk of the environmental suit through the small opening, after which he splashed down in the foot-deep remnants of what had been a full tank when they'd started out.

He heard, faintly, the sound of the refueling pipes hooking up to Peragus. He'd have to move quick. He had about five minutes while they checked and double checked the systems and connections before the pipe that was his escape into the facility and the tank he was currently huddling in was flooded with harsh, minimally refined fuel. So he hurried, diving into the pipe and scurrying along it like a corellian silk worm. It seemed like he was crawling through a tunnel of eternity, rather than a tunnel of rusted bolts and partially corroded couplings. Atton was, at times, very, very aware that the only thing protecting him from pure vacuum was the thin sheets of curved metal around him and his far-too-fragile-for-his-peace-of-mind clothing.

But at last eternity came to an end, and Atton spied the round splash of discoloration from the rest of his dark world that was where the refueling line connected with Peragus's interior fuel pipes. He crawled faster. Emerging from the constricting tunnel,Atton set off at a run.Speed was what mattered now. Hesoon came to where the fuel line connected with yet another set of pipes; the ventilation system. He unhooked the hatch, shoved the suit ahead of him, and hauled himself up into yet another small, round space.

Seemed he made it all in good time, too; no sooner had he hauled the hatch behind him shut than he heard the unmistakable sound of rushing liquid, not too far off and coming quickly closer. Smiling smugly over a job -so far- well done, Atton continued on down the vents, using his mental, memorized layout of the facility to guide him. His memorization skills hadn't failed him or his scoundrel's ways in all his few decades, and he prayed that they wouldn't fail lack of disuse.

When Atton came to the hatch that was supposed to let him up into the medical wing, where he would wait until he heard some sort of alarm, he found himself keeping more quiet than he remembered willingly being in a number of years. Above him, he heard footsteps, and a womans voice making a log recording. He tried to listen, but he only caught a few muffled words, Coorta's name among them.He wondered if she was in on the plan... Meanwhile, he was hoping he'd translated Coorta's attempt at subtle 'code speech' correctly; '...alarms let us know we can come out... Last time, I had to hide in the medical wing.' One thing he worried about was how would Coorta know when he, Atton, was ready and in place? How long a wait did he have?

Not long, apparently- Coorta must have been watching some hidden interior cameras, either that or he had good timing; klaxons of some kind began blaring their message, whatever it was. Atton was no miner.

He waited a few minutes, waiting until he heard the woman start yelling for evacuation, her log recording cut off short. When the clatter of panicing, running feet had faded, Atton let himself push the panel above him up, slowly, cautiously, alertly looking around as he slipped up and out of the vents, replacing the thing silently as he could. No one was around, supposedly, but old habits died hard. With relief he tore off his rebreather mask and took a deep, long breath of air that at least wasn't his own recycled oxygen. He hooked the mask to his belt, then took a good long look around the room. There was some plasteel containers here and there,a lab station across the room from him, a security door to the right of that, and a large window on the same wall as the door that was to his left. In front of the window was a security console, and he went to that first. He bypassed a few security measures, unlocked the secured door behind him; might be some useful stuff in there, andonce a scoundrel, always a scoundrel.

Next he hacked into the camera network. The morgue was first on the slideshow of camera feeds; only two bodies, an old woman and a man burnt beyond recognition. In the kolto room, all the tanks were full and lit from below with a deadly red. All but one; Atton smiled. He'd found his Jedi. And damn, he'd forgotten how good some of them looked in their underwear... Jedi tended to be rather good looking by merit of their excellent physical condition, if nothing else. Next came the hallways, clear save for a few disoriented mining droids, and...

Atton saw him just before he and his small group of followers, no doubt all promised a portion of the bounty money, barrelled their way through the main door just outside the control room Atton currently occupied. Coorta made quick work of the door to the control room, and met a casually grinning Atton with a fierce scowl.

"What are you smiling for? You haven't even gotten the Jedi out of the kolto tank, yet!"

"Right. And if you guys had been security instead of...well, not, then it'd be a damn good thing I hadn't, wouldn't it?" Atton retorted. He logged out of the security console, then looked at Coorta and the men following him. There were three of them, and for weapons they carried simple mining lasers. Only one of them had a small, probably smuggled blaster with what looked like barely half a charge.

"Look, kid, you're just the ferrier, kay? Just do what I say, and we'll all get out of this rich men." He turned and marched out of the room, turning ot the right towards the kolto room. Atton suppressed a sigh, wondering again why he'd agreed to do this, and followed. He found Coorta struggling with the security lock. Of course the kolto room would be locked down during a security or contamination issue. Atton didn't even work here and he knew that. Silently, he went back to the control room, hacked into the console again, and unlocked the kolto room door, as well as deactivated the remaining kolto tank holding a living patient. When he left the control room and followed Coorta's men into the kolto room, he watched with everyone else as the center tank began to drain, the floating Jedi lowering in sync with the lowering liquid-line. Eventually she lay limp and wet at the bottom, breathing deeply, obviously still asleep. Atton's hand went to the double-ended warblade hooked to his belt, waiting for to wake...this would be interesting...

But Coorta's humorless chuckle distracted him, and when he glanced at the sour grin on the man's face he answered, "I had some inside help, boy. What, you think I would trust that a slip of a kid could handle a Jedi? Na, I had someone slip some sedatives into the kolto."

Atton glanced at the dead men floating in the other tanks. "Shit," he scowled. "You killed the others?"

"Not me," Coorta groused. "Said he'd give her nuff sedatives that would keep her out for a few hours. Guess he put it in all the tanks, just to be sure..."

"Yeah, just to be sure..." Atton's grip on the warblade tightened, but not in preperation for battle. Even when he'd been Sith, he'd frowned on needless death. When it was needed, he didn't mind it one whit, but this...? Waste. He hated waste. But, there was nothing to be done and at least -for once- the blood wasn't on his hands.

"This the same guy who pulled off the alarms?" Atton asked, rehooking his warblade and approaching the tank. Briefly, he noted that while shaded a dark, nearly black shade of...purple? He glanced at the drying roots of her hair, and noted that indeed a few whisps of merely damp purple-red hair was curling down on her forehead. Huh. A Jedi with folocule implants? Weren't they supposed to be all anti-vanity? He sincerely doubted that this particular shade was natural...

The front panel of the tank slid up and away, and the Jedi within slumped forward, breathing softly and evenly, into Coorta's waiting grip.

"Damn, she's all woman," Coorta mumbled, hoisting the unconscious captive higher into his grasp as he stood. Atton couldn't help but notice how he manuevered her in his hold so that the arm under her shoulderblades was placed just so, enabling his hand to cup the side of her breast while he was at it. His other hand was similarly located so he could do the same with her ass.

Earlier in Atton's life, he would have been amused, perhaps even made a joke.

Earlier.

He stood, kolto liquid running off the wet-resistence knees of his leather pants as he got up out of the puddle that had formed. Coorta didn't care that he was getting soaked while holding the soggy Jedi.

Without warning, the alarms changed in tune...

"Shit, we're running out of time, boy," Coorta said, suddenly thrusting the unaware package that was a human woman into Atton's unexpecting arms. He nearly dropped her, surprised at her weight- she was so short! Her head rolled against his shoulder, and he thought he'd heard her mumble for a moment before falling silent. With the blaring klaxons, it was hard to tell.

"How are you getting out, kid? Back to the re-supply freighter?"

"No, the ship that she came in on."

"That rusty thing? Good luck, Rand. She got fixed by accident, but supposedly she'll fly...supposedly.Where's my creds?" The sudden change ofsubject and tonehad Atton raising onesomewhat amused eyebrow.

"Hidden. I'll tell you where they are once I'm off this rock quarry reject." His tone, while ridiculously light and cheer, left no room for argument. Coorta grit his teeth audible, but said and did nothing otherslapping a communications receiver onto Atton'shis wrist.

"I'll moniter the cameras from here," he snarled. "I'lllet you know where to turn and how to avoid anyone who decides the 'almost clear' alarm is as good as the 'all clear' one. Now get!"

With a subtle glare, Atton went. He felt like giving a mocking salute, but with his arms full of Jedi it wasn't quite feasible. True to his word, Coorta occassionally barked out a direction to avoid miners out to test the air -miners who were probably puzzled by the utter lack of toxins that had never been there in the first place- but for the most part Atton followed his own mental blueprint to the hangar bay. Coorta told him which one hosted the ship he was to take, the Ebon Hawk. Coorta was right- the thing looked barely fit to fly. But fly he hoped she would, regardless of her exterior beauty, or lack therof.

He had to lay the Jedi on the floor, once, to bypass a few lockdown security protocols -some of them looking rather odd and out of place, to him, but there was no time to ponder anything but getting off this rock. He opened the hangar bay door, scooped up the Jedi, and he was off again. He slung her over one shoulder, this time, to free one hand to work the boarding ramp controls on the underbelly of the ship.

"I'm here," he said into the wrist communicator as an afterthought. "And no offense, but I hope I never see you or this rock again. The credits are in the ventilation shaft below the floor in the control room."

A few more minutes, during which Atton boarded the Ebon Hawk and searched for either a dormitory or the med bay, then Coorta's voice came through distorted and staticy, "Got em.Now get lost."

"Gladly."Other than that, there were no farewells. Atton found the med bay adjacent to the corridor leading up to the cockpit. He dumped the Jedi onto the single bed he found there, and strapped her in using the belts attached to the underside of that bed. The cockpit was cramped and compact, but not to the point of detracting from it's funcionality, something Atton was supremely grateful for. The interior of the ship surprised him- she was no beaut,but she was practical and in surprisingly good shape, judging from what the exterior looked like...

All Atton's good opinion, though, went out the window the moment he discovered that the navicomputer was voice-locked. Scowling and cursing in two languages, he dug into the single destination not locked away from him; Citadel Station. Shit. He'd hoped he'd never have to return there... He hadn't exactly been a good boy during his stay, and he doubted his sudden disappearence would be investigated beyond cursory formalities. He'd have to tail-gate another ship, hack into their navicomputer by remote, and download someone else's charts. Either that, or brave actually landing, potentially handing over his new ship to the authorities who did not like him...

Na, hacking sounded way better.

Atton powered up the engines, disabled the forcefield with a few well-placed turret bolts, and glided sweetly out into glorious freedom.

Then he spotted the Republic ship...

Giving a expletive-filled cry, Atton pressed the newly repaired engines to their limit, avoiding a sudden onslaught of red and green ship-sized blaster shots. Dodging and weaving the barrage, Atton grit his teeth and wondered if this was the last job he'd ever accept. He couldn't jump to hyperspace yet, not til he was clear of the asteroids... But it seemed like every single little blast that missed him found a fuel-laden rock, and blew to resemble a temporary, small sun. If the ship kept missing him, he was going to get fried one one of those asteroids. If it didn't miss him, then he'd resemble one of those blown asteroids.

Lovely odds.

He'd have to make a choice- run for it, try hyperspace now, or...or...

It'd probably get him killed.

Then again, doing nothing would probably get him killed. Crossing proverbial fingers, Atton set in the hyperspace coordinates, aimed for Telos, and punched it.

To Be Continued...

Allrightie, my first full-length KotorII fic. Those of you that read my other stuff, I know, I know...not another one... Don't worry, chapter ten of Vow of Serenity is on it's way. My muse decided to take a vacation...then mid-terms happened...yeah...

Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed. Feel free to launch any questions, complaints, comments, etc. I check my e-mail and reviews daily. Ta, everyone!

-Amber Penglass