AN: This has been kicking around on my hard drive for over a year and I haven't touched it since. That being said, this isn't likely to be updated anytime in the near future, so take it as something of a brief character experiment until I get around to playing KoTOR again!
Taris
Out of all soldiers aboard the Endar Spire, Carth could not believe she had been the one to survive.
He had asked, "What's your position in the fleet?"
Her deadpan answer had been, "Smuggler."
Before he could sputter out an adequate response (was there an adequate response to something like that?) she had merrily slung a vibroblade from her belt and skipped out the door as if she hadn't spent the last three days in a thrashing coma.
Carth stared after her retreating back and seriously considered running in the opposite direction.
Her head reappeared in the open doorway. "You coming, flyboy?" A pause. "You're not totally useless planet-side or something, are you?"
Well. Now his battered pride simply demanded that he follow her.
Her name was Skye and she spent the majority of her first hour on Taris bilking the Sith for every credit they carried.
Carth nearly had a heart attack the first time she sauntered up to a poor, unsuspecting Sith guard with a smile and wink. A giggle and an impressive sleight of hand later and Skye returned to his side proudly brandishing a credit chip.
Impressed by her skill in the same way one is impressed by a particularly devastating swoop accident, Carth snapped, "Shouldn't we be looking for Bastila?"
She handily waved off his concern. "Can't you see I'm working on it?"
No. No, he could not.
The next hour was spent in the Upper City Cantina. Carth sat at a booth in the corner with a drink (purchased with stolen credits) and watched Skye work over a roomful of off-duty Sith (probably stealing more credits).
"A round on me for my new Sith friends!"
As far as Carth was concerned, 'Sith' and 'friend' should never be together in the same sentence but Skye apparently made it work. He was suddenly very glad it wasn't his money she was spending.
She fluttered absurdly long lashes when a man leaned in close to whisper in her ear.
Carth was the only one in any position to see her predatory grin.
He convinced himself that there was a master plan behind her madness but this – this was crossing the line.
"A party. You – you really want us to attend a Sith party? Don't you think we have better things to do? Like find the Jedi and get off Taris before we're all killed?"
Skye turned wide blue eyes on him. "Well. You don't have to go."
Carth gaped, trying valiantly to determine if she was kidding. "No. Just no. This is not happening."
She faced him fully and dabbed her tongue against her lower lip and her eyes turned misty. It may have worked if Carth hadn't already seen her use the same trick on the young and stupid men at the Cantina.
When she realized his stony expression remained unchanging, she immediately dropped the act. The look of unrelenting stubbornness that took its place was hardly any better. "Yes, a Sith party. A Sith party rife with unattended Sith uniforms." In a wistful voice he probably wasn't meant to hear, she added, "And unattended credits."
He scrubbed a hand down his face. She was either going to get them both killed or she was some kind of mad genius.
Skye breezed into the Sith apartment like she'd lived there her entire life. Carth stood as a looming shadow behind her, but her new 'friends' hardly noticed his presence.
And what if she really was friends with the Sith?
He fiddled with the blaster at his hip.
She chose that moment to cast him a sly smile, despite the men vying for her attention, like she was sharing an inside joke with him.
Carth skulked off to the side and tried not to glare too suspiciously.
He kept Skye in his sights. He didn't trust her – he certainly saw no reason to after everything she'd done – but another hour passed, the guests began to pass out on the floor, and he realized belatedly that she'd been making the rounds and filling glass after glass of Tarisian ale.
The last Sith fell and Carth thought that perhaps he'd underestimated her.
Skye crouched over a prone guard and rustled through his pockets. "Oh, score! A grenade!"
Or maybe not.
Carth didn't exactly feel comfortable wearing Sith armor, despite her very graciously finding a set to "fit over your big ol' broad shoulders, flyboy".
As soon as he stepped out of the 'fresher, she turned to appraise him. Her lips pursed. "A shame to cover up a face like yours, Onasi." At his silence, she started laughing.
He spent the next few awkward seconds debating whether or not to take the helmet off and throw it at her.
"Distract them for me?" she whispered when they stepped off the Lower City elevator and into a gang fight. Carth opened his mouth to protest because no, distracting a group of irate Nikto did not seem like something he wanted to do but –
She activated the stealth unit in her belt and vanished. He cursed as several angry aliens bore down on his position.
The one closest to him dropped with a hole in his chest. Skye's stealth field vanished with a crackle and she appeared between the remaining two, her vibroblade bloody. She offered Carth a cheeky wave and a grin before darting behind her next victim.
Now that he could see her, Carth thought that she may be the most annoying and least trustworthy person he'd ever met, but damn if she didn't fight like she was dancing –
And he found out how true that was when they wandered in Javyer's Cantina and she stepped up to help a little Twi'lek dancing girl.
"Oh don't you worry darling, I've done my fair share of dancing," and just like that she was undulating next to the woman in time to a beat only they could hear.
Carth was left with the uncomfortable realization that he wasn't entirely immune to her charms.
"No need to look so sullen all the time, Onasi," she said cheerily as they prepared to descend into the Undercity on another of her harebrained schemes.
"Carth," he corrected automatically because he was positive she had never used his name. "And I am not sullen." That sounded entirely too close to 'whiny' for his taste.
Skye snickered and then sighed when he glared. She finally looked up from where she was buckling her boots. "So what's your problem now? Still think I'm gonna sell you to the Sith?"
"Would you?" He countered.
Her eyes dragged over him slowly. "They couldn't afford you," she mused. "No, if I were going to sell you, it wouldn't be to the Sith, O-na-si."
The sight of the Rakghouls wasn't enough to shake her unflappable calm, but when one drooled down her leg before it died, it was apparently suitable cause for flailing histrionics.
Carth should have known better than to laugh at a hysterical woman and she swiftly reminded of that fact when she threatened to clean it off on the sleeve of his favorite jacket. Between guffaws, he managed to hand her a relatively sterile rag instead.
Skye glared and huffed and said, "This is not what I signed up for."
"This is why I never deal with Gamorreans," Skye said as they trudged through the sewers. "I bet you a thousand credits they smell worse than what we're currently walking through." At her side, Mission laughed. The Twi'lek had been enamored with the smuggler from the start. Carth was just glad Skye's biting sarcasm had another target now.
Skye's brutally efficient style of combat relied on surprise – so when a lone Gamorrean managed to surprise her (only because she insisted on looting every corpse they came across, despite his warnings), it ended with the smuggler being flung bodily across the walkway in a wild, floundering sprawl. Carth cursed and moved to intercept before she could land in a gurgling puddle of something.
She collided with him the same instant Mission managed to subdue the Gamorrean with a blaster bolt to the forehead.
A brief moment passed where Carth thought she wore an expression other than smug mischief. Skye promptly crushed the idea when a slow smile split over her very white teeth and she realized how close they stood to each other.
"Well, Onasi," she said. "I'm beginning to regret calling you a 'Gamorrean Man-Pig'. You smell far better."
Over her shoulder, Carth caught sight of Mission making un-subtle gagging gestures.
His bland response was, "I can't really say the same for you."
Skye's laughter was immediate and, he thought, more attractive than her pouty lips and sultry eyes could ever be.
She fell in step beside him as Mission and the newly rescued Zaalbar argued over the maintenance of his fur. "A Wookie life-debt," she muttered. "Unbelievable." Then she glared at him like it was his fault she'd gone and rescued a Wookie.
Skye survived the encounter with the rancor beast (Carth wasn't even surprised anymore) but she was now covered in rancor viscera.
She stood shell-shocked in the middle of the room, very near to where the giant creature had only recently exploded. Violently. Which is what happened when you fed it several grenades. Something unidentifiable slid down her cheek and slipped through the grating beneath her feet with a wet plop.
Mission's laughter incited a slurry of curses in more languages than Carth had a chance of understanding. He masked his own chuckles behind coughs because he distinctly remembered her threats towards his jacket the last time something like this happened.
Skye glared at them all and began the very careful process of prying off her armor and coat. Then she tore off her relatively clean undershirt and used it to scrub vainly at her hair – and Carth's smothered laughter turned suddenly to awkward choking.
Zaalbar growled something that was probably derogatory because Mission elbowed him in the fur (there was no telling where a Wookie's body began and fur ended). Then she called to Skye, "You gonna storm the Vulkar base half-naked?"
"I'm always thinking of new ways to distract the enemy, darling," Skye muttered and looked around helplessly before stuffing her ruined clothes in her pack.
Carth took pity on her (and himself) and removed his jacket. He picked his way across the slick-with-sewage-and-guts floor to drape it over her bare shoulders.
She made a face at the burnt-orange fabric against her skin and announced, "It's the same color as rancor stomach!"
"I don't know what your problem is, flyboy. S'not like you have to fly the exploding swoop bike tomorrow!"
Carth ran a hand down his face. They had been having the same argument since she'd retrieved the tremendously dubious-looking prototype from the Vulkar's. He suspected it was an argument he was not going to win.
Skye paced the room the Beks had given them for the night. They were alone for now – she'd sent Mission and Zaalbar off to deliver some package or another to the Undercity village – and despite having had little rest in the past few days, she was damn near jittery. He had the brief thought that maybe she was some kind of spice addict –
"I mean," she continued when he refused to rise to her bait. "What's the worst that happens? I turn to Skye-goo on the track and you don't gotta worry about me anymore, do ya darling?" The smile she cast his way was just this side of exceptionally juvenile.
"If you lose, how will we get Bastila back?" he shot back.
She paused and looked at him blankly. Then she cursed in a strange Twi'leki dialect and laughed. "I almost forgot about her! Never been a big fan of the Jedi. I only took this assignment 'cause the Republic promised me a whole pile of credits."
He was about to voice his alarm at her words, when she seemed to come to a sudden realization. Her eyes widened and her lower lip trembled. "Does losing the Jedi girl mean I don't get paid now?"
Carth gave up and left the room.
"Hey flyboy, I can almost hear you worrying from here," Skye said through his comm. Carth, Mission and Zaalbar watched from the Bek base as her swoop lined up to race. "It's kinda charming, really. Keep it up and I might think you're sweet on me."
"Someone has to keep you in line," he muttered. Mission snickered.
He watched her vault up inside the death machine and he expected the line to go quiet so she could concentrate.
He was mistaken. "If you think this is bad, you should see this one track I raced on Nar Shaddaa! Back in my day, there were swoops running both ways, uphill in the middle of – "
"Just win the race, Skye."
"Can-do, handsome. One spoiled Jedi, coming up."
Carth managed to make it down to the track seconds before Skye ran Brejik clean through with a rather large and unfamiliar double-bladed weapon.
"Somehow, I'm not surprised you turned this into a gang war."
She swung one end of the blade over her shoulder and took the time to pout and look properly indignant, even with blood splattered over half her face. "Hey, I won the race fair and square! It's not my fault. This time. Mostly. Those nerf herders didn't wanna give up the stupid Jedi. "
The stupid Jedi delicately cleared her throat. With her back to Bastila, Skye's face twisted up into a pinched scowl. "Don't get your knickers all in a knot, Jedi. We're here to rescue you – "
Except apparently, Bastila was less-than-thankful for being rescued and Skye distinctly less-than-tolerant of her attitude. From the way the smuggler eyed the other woman when she thought no one was looking, Carth had a strong suspicion she was trying to decide just how much she could sell her for (and probably not to the Sith, whom Skye had deemed to be "cheap and unreliable clients").
"Listen little girl, I don't give a Hutt's behind if you were in charge of that party up on the Endar Spire. Obviously, Jedi leadership is worth bantha fodder – "
Skye and Bastila stood nose to nose in their Upper City apartment. They were about the same height (which translated as 'spectacularly short') but Skye still somehow managed to loom.
He put a hand on Skye's shoulder and pulled her from the apartment before she could incite Bastila into Force-launching them all off the Upper City walkways.
"You should probably stop bullying the Jedi, now."
"I am not – god dammit Onasi, stop being so pushy."
Meeting a shady Mandalorian in an even shadier Cantina was far from the top of Carth's list of enjoyable ventures, but they were stunningly out of options for getting off-planet so he followed Skye without complaint.
Unsurprisingly, she'd left Bastila in Zaalbar's care and all but sprinted in the opposite direction.
Canderous waved them over as soon as they'd entered the Cantina and Carth nearly bowled Skye over when she stopped dead.
She looked confused. Or in pain. Sometimes it was hard to tell with her.
"Hey wait," she said suddenly and hurried over to the bemused Mandalorian. Carth followed more slowly. "I totally recognize you now! You were there when I did a big deal a few months back for –" She looked over at Carth and cleared her throat – "Uh, anyway, I thought you looked familiar."
Canderous' lip twitched in what could have been a smile but probably wasn't. Maybe Mandalorians had laws against smiling. "Yeah, I remember you. I'm not surprised you were the one to win that swoop race, Ms. Drayson."
Skye's answering grin was feral. "Alright Ordo, hit me with your grand scheme. Let's see what I can do."
Carth found that he did not like their easy camaraderie. Not at all.
"Hey flyboy, you ready to see something awesome?"
That did not sound good. "Whatever you're doing, beautiful, it's probably a terrible idea."
Her response was low laughter and then, "Did I mention that I like it when you call me that? Oh shavit, hold on – " Masculine voices and the shuffle of metallic armor came across the comm. "Frakking Sith. Anyway, I'm almost out. Just hold tight and try not to look too suspicious pacing outside the base, handsome."
"How did you know – no, you know what, never mind. Mission and T3 are already out. What the hell are you doing in there?"
"Hehe, you'll see."
Carth tried very hard to avoid pacing for the next few minutes because he didn't want Skye to be right and because Mission was giggling at him. T3 bwooped but no one paid attention because Skye was the only one who could understand him anyway.
Just when he thought he might lose his mind, the air shimmered and Skye came into view with an electrical pop. She grinned and looped her arm through his, leading them quickly from the base. A Sith guard eyed them and she gave the armored man a jaunty wave.
A massive explosion rocked the walkway. An alarm whined from the base, followed by a succession of smaller detonations and shouts. Blue fire and the crackle of surging electricity arched over the building, followed by a plume of black smoke. The Sith guard jumped and sprinted past them.
Carth glared at their resident smuggler. She smiled and fluttered her lashes at him, her arm still hooked in his.
In a stage whisper, she said, "I told you it would be awesome!"
"So. That series of 'catastrophic droid malfunctions' at the Sith base."
Skye slid into the seat beside Canderous and stole his Tarisian ale with a vapid smile. "I have no idea what you're talking about but I did happen to come across these launch codes in a very much unrelated incident. What a happy coincidence!"
Canderous laughed. "I think you and I are going to get along very well, Ms. Drayson."
Skye fidgeted where she sat beside him in the back of the airspeeder. "So, flyboy. I know we've beaten this topic down like a dead bantha but –"
"If this is about Saul again –"
"It's about not getting us killed on an infiltration mission because you have some stick up your ass about –"
A rough chortle from the front seat ruined Carth's chance to respond. "If you two are done flirting, maybe you could get on with explaining the plan."
Carth had disliked the Mandalorian before, but now he positively hated him.
Skye winked at him. "I'm just asking that you not take anything I say in Davik's estate seriously. Try to trust me long enough to get off this pisshole of a planet, handsome. After that, you'll never have to see me again."
He'd thought that plan would make him happy.
It didn't.
As soon as the speeder came to an abrupt halt (if all Mandalorians had fought as poorly as Canderous drove, the war would have been much shorter) Skye scooted across his lap to exit on his side. Carth reached out to steady her.
Before leaving the Cantina, she had changed into leather pants and a cropped shirt, ostensibly because that's "how any good smuggler dressed" but Carth suspected she would have taken any excuse to get out of the 'clumsy and restrictive' armor he'd forced her to wear.
All that meant now, though, was that Carth's attempt to lay a helping hand on her hip suddenly became increasingly awkward and inappropriate. Instead of hard layers of durasteel and woven fabric, his fingers curved over warm, soft skin.
Skye turned to look at him. He didn't move his hand. The last thing he wanted was for her to know he was uncomfortable.
Apparently, he didn't fool her because she grinned, madly amused by his embarrassment. "Oh my, Onasi. You didn't even buy me dinner first!" She fluttered those ridiculous lashes at him.
Canderous opened the door and Carth all but threw her out of it.
"Canderous and – Ms. Drayson?" Davik greeted and Carth wondered if there was anyone on Taris who didn't know her already. "I wasn't aware there was a shipment scheduled for today." The old man wasn't at all troubled by her sudden appearance in his estate.
Skye grinned and leaned into one hip. "Bit of different business today, Davik. I seem to recall there being an open invitation for me to join the Exchange?"
"And as I recall, you turned me down flat last time."
She laughed and flashed her sultry, misty-eyed look between Davik and Calo Nord. The bounty hunter was patently unimpressed but the Exchange Boss fell for it hook, line and sinker. "Time's change, Davik. You know how it is. When Canderous approached me and told me he'd put in a good word for me, well I just couldn't resist." Her lips twitched with a secretive smile.
Carth ground his teeth together until he noticed the way she kept herself between him and Davik. Neither man noticed him. At least, not until he shifted or breathed or did something wrong, his armor creaked, and the Tarisian crime lord turned to stare at him.
"Picking up stragglers, Ms. Drayson?" Davik's voice cracked like a whip. Carth bristled.
"Long hauls across the galaxy get lonely, Mr. Kang." She drew one finger down the length of her collarbone and over the swell of her breast.
Everyone in the room forgot about Carth all over again.
"I hope you don't expect a massage," Carth bit out as soon as Skye cleared their room of bugs (her method of 'dealing with them' apparently involved smashing them on the floor repeatedly until they were inoperable. She'd promised that Davik would expect nothing less of her).
She rolled her neck from side to side with a crack that made him cringe. "Oh, I don't know flyboy, I've got this kink…"
Canderous choked on the next swig he took from his flask.
"Frakking Sith balls!" Skye yelped when one of the torture droids broke through her shield and singed her hip because a cropped leather jacket made for poor combat armor but any desire to say I told you so vanished when he caught sight of the smoke billowing up from her skin.
The last droid exploded moments later in a hail of sparks.
From what Carth could see, the brief flash of flame had melted a good swathe of her flesh; it looked disturbingly like it had fused with her leather pants. Canderous said something unhelpful like, "that'll make a fine scar, if you leave it alone" and offered little other advice. Carth cursed and crossed to her side to help administer the last of the kolto from their medpacs.
Except she was already using it on the man they'd rescued from the droids. She slathered the last of it over his wounds while Carth gaped at her.
At his look, she shrugged. "I'd say he needs it more than me. And we need those access codes more than I need skin – er, all of my skin, that is." She flashed him a smile he assumed was meant to be beguiling but the pallid, waxy cast to her face significantly diminished the effect.
Canderous sneered.
Carth sincerely hoped her insanity wasn't catching.
"Why am I not surprised that things are blowing up around you?" Canderous shouted as they dodged falling debris.
Skye didn't respond, but Carth supposed she was too busy trying not to fall over. She looked, for lack of anything more complimentary, awful.
He didn't tell her that, though. He had no doubt she would do something horrible in retaliation, most likely involving his flight jacket. Instead, he hauled her up over his shoulder and half-carried, half-dragged her up the Ebon Hawke's loading ramp.
By the time they'd reached the cockpit, she'd passed out.
Skye Drayson didn't wake up as they traveled hyperspace to Dantooine. Bastila tried to explain something about Force sensitivity and the destruction of Taris – but Carth knew for a fact that Skye would not be happy when she woke up in a Jedi Enclave.
He just hoped she didn't set the place on fire. Or worse.