Every wheeze and groan Ship made as it settled during the airlock's cycling connection made Cerran regret not taking the time to stop at Moat's workshop. The finicky Ugnaught couldn't stand the sight of him, but appreciated the XS Freighter on the same level he did, and so worked on it for cost – and the gratis export of lenkin reeds back to Gentes every few months. It was always a dead drop and he never met with any of Moat's clan, which was probably for the best, if one alien could be said to represent an entire species.

"Just hold together for a few clicks mister, and we'll be at Nar Shaddaa before you know it."

"May I broadcast our expected arrival to Deucalon Spaceport?"

If a computer could be said to sound anticipatory, Ship definitely qualified. "You know it, buddy. We're upgrading your identification protocols too. You're still not forgiven for letting Skavak on board and taking you out for a joy ride."

"Former association dictated-"

"Yeah, we've been over this." The shipboard computer had actually babbled itself to incoherency when it was reunited with its captain. "No one but me from now on. Acknowledge? No command override supersedes. If it exists in your databanks – if even the potential is there - delete it and any associated subroutines."

"Acknowledged, Captain." Cerran thought the ship was finished, until the com unit spoke again. "Query: Human Corso Riggs is currently classified as passenger. Destination?"

Corso. Corso was a problem. One he couldn't cope with at the moment and Ship, attuned to its captain's moods, did not repeat its question when he didn't answer.

A warm female voice, without the accented, Imperial-esque overtones of his freighter announced, "Airlock cycle complete. Welcome to the Tython Orbital Station, gentlebeing. Shuttle departures can be found–"

He waved his hand impatiently in front of the door sensor; Ship obligingly shut the standard greeting off. It'd go on for about five minutes and then repeat the exact same thing in four other languages – even gargling Huttese, although he knew no Hutt had ever slithered onto the planet's surface. He'd heard it many times before. Maybe, if he was lucky, today would be the last time. 'Because that's the kind of luck I have. Lucky Cerran, terror of the dejarik tables. I'll just keep pretending I'm not well and truly forked.'

His hands were sweaty and he wiped them on his pants before placing them on the door's handles and giving them a spin. A blast of air reeking of oil and scorched fuel fumes enveloped him as he stepped forward.

Someone was waiting outside.

'Stars.' He forced himself to casually disembark, as if his brother's appearance was expected. "Vosh. I'm flattered. You missed me so much, you couldn't wait for me topside? Where are Garik and Ero? Then it'd be just like old times."

Vosh was too well disciplined to let it show in his aura, not that Cerran could have told one way or the other if his jab hit its mark. Another Miraluka could have told his brother's mood with a long, creepy stare, seeing those dark flashes of bitterness or hatred, assuming they were roughly equal in terms of Force sensitivity. He was lucky he could distinguish the other man from the colorless backdrop of the corridor; such finite perceptions were well beyond him. Still, he'd managed to make all his siblings prickle angrily at one time or another, bright enough that even he could see the flares. He'd take his small victories where he could find them.

"I've been sent to accompany you. There were concerns when you didn't… arrive on time."

'Not my choice.' It was another thing he'd "thank" Skavak for, when he finally tracked that worthless piece of poodoo down. He'd kick the rock he'd crawled under so hard, it'd become some unfortunate planet's new moon. His father wouldn't know why there'd been a delay, just that there had been one, and Cerran would be damned before he'd apologize after he'd already been humiliated once this week. Especially given his current reception committee. Better the whole thing seemed like a planned slight. "Well then," he bowed low with a wide flourish, "lead on. I might not be able to find my way, otherwise."

"Captain?"

The tentative voice at his back made him straighten up quickly. Vosh surprised him and he'd forgotten to shut the airlock door. Corso's curiosity had obviously gotten the better of him.

Now he saw it all around his brother; the subtle gleam of malice was unmistakable. "Cerran. Aren't you going to introduce us?"

"No."

"I'm-"

He could picture Corso stepping forward, extending his hand in greeting. "Getting back on the ship. Now." He turned and looked at Corso over his shoulder, tipping his chin back towards the entrance. He hoped the unspoken threat of "Or I'll take your ass back to Ord Mantell and leave you there, farm boy" was implied. The absolute last thing he needed was for the other man to find out Vosh was family. He wasn't bright, but it wouldn't take a degree in rock science to figure out what the two being related meant and no one outside of Ship knew his secret. Which probably meant Skavak knew now, too. 'Shit.' Today just kept getting better and better.

Not bright didn't equate to being stupid. "I'm just a holocall away if you need me."

The other man re-entered the ship as he commanded. If only Corso wasn't so karking … well. His compromise was to take the Mantellian along with him when he left the other man's home planet. Cerran told himself it was because he deserved an equal piece of Skavak's hide when they finally caught up with him. Not because he was attracted to the other man, or even liked him all that much. It was purely a business arrangement. 'Yeah, right - and my father's called me home to welcome me back into the fold. The prodigal son returns. If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all, I swear.' Not entirely true, but most of the time that's what it felt like.

He and his brother began walking towards the shuttles. "Do you need him very often, then?" Vosh asked, as he led him through the forgotten maze of the spaceport that he'd once known like the back of his hand. His brother was taking his job as a guide seriously, at least on the surface. While Cerran wouldn't have gotten lost, it was easy to get turned around here and with so many sounds coming from all directions – engines flared to life or grumbled to a stop, mechanics yelled to be heard over the noise, droids were stationed at every entrance and exit, repeating the automated message Ship broadcast and offering their services as porters to anyone going to Tython – it would have become easy to become tangled in his own distorted perceptions when at best his world was represented by dim shadows in varying shades of gray.

Vosh would also tattle the entire tale of their meeting to his father as soon as they reached the compound. Well, let him. What difference could it possibly make at this point? Undoubtedly, he'd given something away when Corso appeared. Probably read him like a teenager's unlocked datapad. That's what he always would be to his family; a rebellious, misfit child. Fine. He may as well act the part.

Cerran's lips quirked up in a self-satisfied smirk. "Every damn day." Let his brother make of that what he would.

Author's Note: This is a rough continuation of "And the Chiss ran away with the Spoon", another story which utilizes my characters from Star Wars: The Old Republic. The first was with Sandor, my Imperial Agent and now we have his opposite number: Cerran, the Republic Smuggler. Two down, two (or maybe three, but that seems unlikely - the Sandor/Hunter story probably won't see the light of day) to go.

Thanks to Stevie Wonder for inspiration on the story's title, the Wermo guide for sparing use of Huttese and Wookieepidia for all other things Star Wars related that I simply didn't know enough about and had to look up.

The universe belongs to George Lucas, Corso Riggs to Bioware, Cerran, Keluin and the rest of the Capel clan to me and Ysmena to my best friend jenovan. She has some great SWTOR stories posted on her account, as well as Dragon Age: Origins ones that are so good they'll make you wish she'd just publish a book already. Read them; you don't even need to thank me later. We continue to level up together but our characters' personalities never seem to mesh very well. Likely her DA:O character Alessar would turn the tables on my mage and have him executed, so it all equals out in the end.

Cerran and I thank you for taking the time to read his story. I haven't truly proofread it and combed for errors (for a change, I'm just throwing caution to the wind), so if something's amiss, it's all on me. If you're so inclined, please feel free to review; a critique is as valued as praise.