Safe Haven

Nar Shaddaa Safehouse
01:00

Jorgan had never seen Fynta like this. She shouted at her brother via holo in a stream of Mando'a too quick for Jorgan to translate. Every now and then, Fynta would pace away from Verin with hands on hips, only to stomp back with a whole new string of insults. The few words Jorgan could pick up being enough to know that she wasn't pulling any punches.

Verin's rage was no less explosive, and Cormac chuckled a couple of times when spittle spewed from the man's lips. They pointed, stomped feet, and made more than one vulgar hand sign at one another. At one point, Verin fell silent, breathing heavily and face red with anger. Jorgan wondered what might have happened if they'd met in person to discuss this, instead of over holo.

Eventually, Verin stormed out of the image to be replaced by Cinlat. Jorgan heard Cormac suck in a breath. He had been unable to join them on the surface of Tython, and had missed the opportunity to meet the hunters in person after their rescue. Cinlat's countenance was enough to take anyone's breath away. The huntress wore her age well, white eyes glowing in the transmission. The effect was made all the more striking by the equally light hair that tumbled in curls over her shoulders.

"You two done yet?" Cinlat asked dryly, crossing her arms as she stared at Fynta. She still wore her beskar'gam with both rippers held fast in hip holsters. Despite her small size, the woman gave off an air of danger. From what Jorgan had learned from Fynta, Cinlat had grown up on Hutta in the fighting pits. She had three jagged scars down the left half of her face care of a half-starved Cathar competitor. According to Fynta, the huntress refused to talk about that part of her life, but that hadn't kept them all from wondering how such a small woman had defeated a crazed, male Cathar. One thing Jorgan knew for sure, though. While Cinlat might not be Mandalorian by birth, she was no less a threat.

Seeing the way Cinlat glared at her husband as he stalked in and out of the shot in the background, Jorgan wondered about the information Fynta had revealed during their briefing with Balkar. A chill ran down his spine at the idea of Verin ever raising a hand to Cinlat. Jorgan wasn't sure he believed that Verin capable of torturing Cinlat, even if he thought it in her best interest. The man clearly adored his wife. Not to mention, Cinlat would probably shoot him.

"Cinlat. Make the di'kut understand," Fynta pleaded, reverting to basic temporarily, before the two began another round of robust insults.

Elara stood on the other side of Cormac, a pleasant smile on her lips. When he gave her an inquisitive nudge, she sniggered. "This reminds me of Aleksei and myself as children. We fought horribly. My father often threatened to send us to the Sith should we exasperate our mother further."

"I can't imagine that," Balic smirked, earning himself a gentle elbow from his wife. The big man's eyebrows suddenly lifted as he tipped his head towards the arguing siblings. "Wait, do you actually understand all of this?"

Elara nodded. "Most. I've been taking lessons from the major."

"Care to clue us in?" Jorgan asked. He had been resistant to learning Mando'a; the words felt wrong in his mouth. Taking a Mandalorian as his lifemate was bad enough, however, adhering to the culture that nearly wiped out his race felt like crossing an invisible line. Granted, he didn't feel bad about the armor. His beskar'gam was well worth any scorn he might receive from other Cathar.

"Well," Elara began. "Mostly, they are just insulting one another, very creatively, I might add. Verin feels Fynta has no right to chastise him, as he is the elder brother. Yet, Fynta claims him to be a—ah, well, that he had no right to drag her into this mess by killing Republic personnel."

Cormac wrapped an arm around his wife with a smile. "I'm guessing they're using the big kid words now."

"Quite," Dorne responded. "Mando'a is such an efficient language." She covered her mouth to hide a giggle, and both men shared a confused glance. "I believe there was some mention of an incident involving a strill. And, Verin's outrage that she would dredge the occurrence up again." Dorne stopped short, both eyebrows raised. "Oh, my. That wasn't nice at all. I'm concerned Fynta might seek physical reparation for that one."

Cormac guffawed, then snapped his mouth shut before he could draw Fynta's wrath too. "So, they're just having your average roe between siblings?"

"It does sound more serious when yelled in Mando'a, I'll admit," Dorne agreed.

"Verin, ne'johaa!" Cinlat finally demanded over her shoulder. The woman had spent the bulk of the time rubbing her temples while the siblings screamed and flailed about. "Same goes for you, Fynta. Shut up and listen."

Fynta crossed her arms and paced two steps from side to side, but she kept her mouth shut. Jorgan wondered absently if Cinlat would be willing to teach him that trick, or whether he'd ever be capable of muzzling his wife the way the huntress had. Cinlat clearly held the rank of alpha in their small pack. While both Verin and Fynta still glared daggers at each other, they remained silent.

"We were hired to steal the chips back from the Black Sun," Cinlat explained calmly. "There was no mention of a SIS sting, and we didn't realize it until Verin found the wire on one of the non-implanted agents. The hut'uun who hired us only admitted to knowing about it after we—questioned him. Apparently, he was an Imperial broker under orders to get the best deal for their money."

Elara sucked in a breath. "That's barbaric. He had them attack the agents because he knew the Black Sun would charge a higher price for the chips than the bounty hunters for their services."

"Was?" Fynta asked before Jorgan could be truly horrified by Dorne's revelation.

"I might have acted rashly," Cinlat replied, leveling Fynta with a meaningful look.

Fynta scrubbed both hands over her face. "Haar'chak," she hissed again. That word wasn't one she used very often, though Jorgan understood the connotations. After a few minutes of muttering, she dropped her hands with a resigned sigh. "I'm supposed to bring you in alive."

"Hmm, dead would have been better," Cinlat admitted. Verin threw his hands up and stormed out of holo range. Something crashed in the background, and Cinlat rolled her eyes.

"I gave it a go, but they want revenge, not a quick clean up," Fynta added, both women ignoring the continued crashing out of view. "We need a plan that won't end my career or get you killed."

Verin appeared in the shot to whisper in Cinlat's ear. She nodded, then looked back at Fynta. "Well, hell, we've got to move. I'll give you twenty-four hours before next contact, then we discuss options. As of right now, I've got two: We go on the run—again. Or, I turn myself in and hope all those holos about crooked judiciaries aren't true."

"It'll be torture if you go in, Cinlat," Fynta stated, her tone emotionless. Jorgan watched her body language carefully, noting the tension that entered her posture. Even Cormac and Dorne had taken on more subdued countenances.

"I know," Cinlat answered. Though her expression remained serious, her voice sounded reassuring. "We'll talk soon." The holo ended, leaving Fynta to stare at the blank wall behind it.

Jorgan approached his wife, finally realizing why she'd pushed so hard for a neutralization op. "You were planning to fake her death, weren't you?"

"An old trick Cin learned from a former business partner." Fynta waved her hands at nothing in particular and puffed air through her bangs. "Not that it matters now. If we take that route, they'll examine the body and figure it out."

"Not if it's fragmented," Cormac suggested. He'd leaned back in his chair with elbows propped on the bar behind him. "Nothing to examine if there's nothing left."

Fynta shook her head. "A bomb's a little overkill for a capture live mission. It would look suspicious." Though, Jorgan knew Fynta had considered it too. She started pacing, a habit she'd picked up from him. Normally, Fynta was more subdued on missions where the shit hit the fan before the op even started. However, this whole business with the bounty hunters had her rattled.

Aric gave his wife's shoulder a squeeze and went into the kitchen to see if there was anything edible left over from their last visit. All he found were a few bags of beans and a powder that would turn into broth when added to water. It was as good a meal as any, something he felt qualified to cook, anyway.

By 04:00, Cormac had stretched out on the couch and fallen asleep. Elara sat on the floor with her back leaned against it, typing on her datapad, then sighing irritably when her calculations didn't add up. Jorgan doubted she'd take a break anytime soon. Fynta had spent the last two hours exhausting her contact list, but no one wanted to get involved.

Fynta stalked back into the room with a growl of frustration. "Something doesn't sit right with me."

Jorgan and Dorne looked up at the same time, but Elara voiced their mutual question first. "How do you mean?"

"Everyone has suddenly found better work or retired from the game. I'm betting they're being paid off. I just don't know why or by who." Fynta paced the room, her face twisted in a scowl. Jorgan grabbed her hand as she passed the chair he'd claimed. She allowed herself to be pulled into his lap with a sigh.

"It wouldn't be the first time that Cinlat was targeted," Dorne added. Grey eyes flicked towards them briefly before returning to her datapad. Jorgan usually avoided such overt acts of affection in front of the squad. However, they were technically still on leave, and Elara and Balic their guests, not squadmates.

"She's made a lot of enemies in both Imperial and Republic space," Dorne continued, then held out her datapad. "I found this."

Fynta leaned forward to accept the device and held it so that Jorgan could read too. "A bounty?" She remarked as her eyebrows jumped. "Wow, an old one."

"Yes, by at least ten years," Dorne nodded. She waved for her datapad back and swiped a finger across the screen. "It would seem the conditions and payout have changed only recently, though. The benefactor is anonymous."

"I need to talk to Cin and see if she knows who posted it originally." Fynta leaned against Jorgan's chest. Her arm had just settled across his shoulders when suddenly she leapt to her feet. Jorgan wasn't far behind, having heard the speeder that touched down on the patio outside.

Dorne elbowed Cormac, who came awake with a snort, then handed him a blaster. Fynta and Jorgan took up position on either side of the door. He held her Verpine, while Fynta carried an interesting blade that looked more like a musical instrument than weapon. Jorgan met her eyes, muscles tensing as she counted down for the attack. The door opened, and both sprang into action.

"Shab, Fynta, it's me!" Verin held his hands out towards the leveled blaster in Jorgan's hands. Fynta had her arm around his neck, and the tip of the blade against his ribs. Verin's back arched away from the weapon, leaving him unbalanced in her grasp.

Fynta released her brother with a shove. Verin stumbled forward, then turned to see what had been jammed against his side. "Is that buir's bes'bev?" She looked at the weapon in her hand before tossing it to him. Verin caught it, then blew a tune that Jorgan didn't recognize, and let out a humorless laugh. "Ha, it still works. Helps that it isn't clogged with blood anymore, I guess."

"Verin?" Fynta commented expectantly, clouting his ear. Jorgan ensured that the Verpine was pointed in a safe direction when Verin bustled further into the room. "What were you thinking coming here?"

"They've got her, Fyn'ika. They nabbed Cinlat." Verin answered as he flopped into the chair Jorgan had vacated and dropped his head into his hands. "We were changing safe houses, and a shabbing jetii jumped us."

Fynta pulled the curtain to the side to look out the window, making sure her brother hadn't been followed. She met Jorgan's gaze, and he knew she was about to do something stupid. He hoped she'd at least tell him what it was before hand so that he could form a contingency plan.

Jorgan followed Fynta into their room to confirm that she'd grabbed her armor, then returned to the sitting area in time to hear the last bit of Verin's story. The man looked up as Jorgan rounded the corner, and he realized for the first time that the bounty hunter was bleeding. "Your first aid kit, sir?" Dorne requested with a worried glance at their guest. Jorgan nodded towards a cabinet in the kitchen, and the medic hurried to gather the required items.

The sound of muted conversation drifted out of the main bedroom, then Fynta emerged snapping on her chest plate. "I'm going to see if they'll let me sit in on the interrogation. That was Balkar delivering the news."

"I'll come with you." Jorgan made to squeeze past towards their room, but Fynta stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"No, I need you here and available to move if I call." Fynta's hand moved to his chest as she met his confused gaze. "I can handle the SIS, it's what I'm trained for." They stared at each other a moment before Jorgan finally conceded with a stiff nod. He hated when she went in alone, especially given the stakes, but knew there was little he could do to stop her.

Fynta patted Jorgan's cheek before turning to the rest of the room. "I'll call if I need you."

Cormac, now fully awake, had one hand on Verin's shoulder. The big man looked up at Fynta with a hard expression so seldom seen on his jovial face as to be shocking. "Go get our girl back."