"Space Bound"

Chapter Four: The First Betrayal


"All of you belong to me,
Come and would you get it going
Now what I want is specific...
Respect what I have done to be the ruler and the killer baby
You don't talk
You don't say nothin okay
You're with the ruler and the killer baby"

-Kid Cudi, "The Ruler and the Killer"


"Three of the Corrino brothers?" the hologram figure echoed for confirmation. His voice was hoarse, raspy, and a black cloak hid his face from view.

Cad Bane flipped on a projecting image to show two Boltrunian corpses in body bags lying outside Hawke Noth Cantina.

"That is Kel and Sexen. Gasta Corrino will arrive within forty hours for proper identification. Once you are satisfied with the credentials, standard payments can carry on as we agreed on." He propped his feet up on the table and folded his hands in his lap like the gentleman he was not.

"I imagine this puts yourself in danger, bounty hunter. The Corrino's have their allies, and none of them will take this—unfortunate tragedy lightly."

Bane had to hide a small smirk at that remark, for it was hard not to laugh at the irony. As soon as he had returned to the apartment, Bane did some research on a black market sector of the HoloNet and subsequently proved his own suspicions about Gasta to be true. Gasta had been stealing from the Corrino family bank on Nal Hutta for several months in a filthy scam, and as if that wasn't bad enough, Kel and Sexen had been in on it as well. Bane could just imagine the Boltrunian family sending their second-to-least-favorite brothers to 'avenge' their least favorite in order to maintain the proper image on the outside. Another barrel of blood and sweat to preserve a mirage that kept the hungry crows at bay. A whitewashed illusion, but a damn good one.

"Let me worry about my own skin. Blasters are for money and money is for business," Bane replied, keeping his tone neutral.

"Very well. When all three bodies have been properly identified, I will pay you seven-thousand for each."

Bane hesitated.

"Our agreement stood at fifteen."

"It's the war effort, of course. I need to cut my budget somewhere."

"I'm sure I can just as easily find someone else willing to scrape his pocket for a Corrino head. Fifteen was the statement and fifteen is what I'll stick with."

"Seven-thousand, and no more. If you want better pay, you'll have to make better and more deliveries to me—unless you'd rather see what the Jedi will offer you. I hear they have never met on agreeable terms with the Corrino's, either. You are more than welcome to depart on our little partnership to do business in other localities. Do we understand each other?"

Cad Bane glanced away from the holoprojector, as inside he cursed. The only thing that kept Bane working for this employer was the fact that both of them held grudges against the Jedi, and the pay, of course. As long as he got paid, it made no difference who it came from. It was when they started twisting their guarantees that he became tempted to cancel the deal. Of course, for some more than others, it was no so simple as pulling the plug and calling it quits, and this was unfortunately one of those rare few.

"And," added the hooded figure, "consider this a consequence of failing your previous mission. I hope the next time we meet again, your reputation won't precede you. Perhaps you learned your lesson in that Republic prison?"

He swallowed hard and put his feet back down on the floor. His failure in the last mission had not been his fault, no matter how one looked at it. Even over two months later it made his blood boil to dwell on all the unmade precautions by the successors, and the salty sting of betrayal sprinkled on the wound of deception and humiliation. But no one was going to know. It helped not to think about it.

"I can guarantee this," said Bane, "that as long as the Corrino gang keeps coming for my blood, more heads will show up on your doorstep."

"Certainly they will also learn their lesson soon enough, I am sure. The payment must be made outside of Happyface, for security purposes of course, so relocate to a different district as soon as possible."

"Yes, I know that," said Bane.

"My going rate for a Jedi's head still stands at one million."

"I know." Bane cut the signal.

For a while he glared ahead at the wall, clenching his fists in silent rage. Now he was short twenty-four thousand, which was almost half of what he had been expecting to earn. Since an extra thirty-five was out the door as well, his chances of staying off the road much longer had dwindled down considerably. How could he keep the Jedi off his back for another few weeks? The answer was shortening with every credit he lost.

Maybe it was time to get back on the job. His time in Happyface was already pushing a few weeks. Clearly that was still not enough time to come out in the open with eliminated unnecessary precautions. But was there more at stake than brushing aside the risks? Were Gasta, Kel, and Sexen's deaths the wake-up call to jump back in?

Also, the Lethan would need a place to sleep tonight.

He heard rustling behind him. He didn't have to turn around.

"Bane Cad. Where my dearest Orett?"

For the second time, Bane was struck with the feeling Solarin had almost wanted to be rid of Blythe. What with how the human had described her as his 'best' and 'most-experienced' and was still able to sell her off, it seemed pretty far-fetched. Besides, if anyone knew where to find a multitude of pleasure products dripping with experience, Solarin would. But he did not have to chew on it long before the logic refused to add up. That was when he remembered the Lethan had spoken up.

Eventually, he did turn around. She was wrapped in a towel from the refresher, her skin damp with either bathwater or sweat or both. She leaned against the doorway lazily, twirling the end of one of her brain-tails with fragile delicacy.

"I have some bad news for you about Solarin," he said to her, standing up and slowly approaching her.

"Solarin, he's hungry. Always looking. Looks for it over all the place in his girls. Never finds it because—"

"Be quiet, mesh'la," he said, as he put his fingers over her lips. "When I talk, you hush up. That's my rule."

She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes and fluttering her thick, dark eyelashes. He leaned in close to her, and his fingers inched up her cheek, softly, picking up grease as they went. She smelled nice. As he peered down at the drops of bathwater running down her neck as if they were poisonous insects, she dropped the towel from around her middle, revealing her bare breasts and stomach. She put her hand over his and asked,

"So, what you do to my dearest Orett?"

"He's not your dearest anymore, little red girl. I bought you from him."

"Buy?" she giggled, squinting her closed eyes as he gently traced one lekku with his hand. "Well, stop stallin'. How long?"

"As long as I want you."

All at once, her eyes peeled open. The next instant she was staring up at him, as if caught in a struggle to wrap her head around what he had just told her—as if he had said either the most horrible truth, or the most beautiful lie. The longer she stared, the great discomfort he felt.

"You—you mean, you buy me?" she asked, drawing the words out like they had been preserved inside her for years upon years, anticipating the day she could say them aloud. He could barely feel her whisper against his fingers.

He reached down until he had her by her cold, skinny arms. Her breasts, full but sagging, pressed against his chest. Dammit. She smelled very nice.

"You have to learn that you can only get away from my sight once, and also, what I want is what I get."

"Orett don't like that; he gonna kill you for this. He loved my, my experience."

"I know about that," he said. "But listen to me, now. You're not going to be just anybody's like before. I got you. You're staying under me now. I'll be making the rules. Understand?"

"Boy," she laughed, "Blythe can't stay still because I'm mover. I need it. Need all those men and boys paying to get into me. Don't think you can hold me in this place alone with just one, and I not be dancing on the street all night. Nuttin' special."

He let go and stepped back, disgusted with her words. What was she thinking? It was as if her only method of survival was to do what anybody wanted her to do for a price, doing her so-called 'professional work' no matter who owned her. Of course, he should have expected such from someone like her. Of course she would think that way; Orett Solarin would have wanted her to think that way. It was the best way to do business and Solarin had known it. So she had no mind of her own any longer. She was ruined.

Should have seen it coming.

"Are you asking for proof?" he demanded, and he pulled out the proof-of-purchase slip. "Here's the little receipt your Solarin left me. I bet you can't even read it."

"I read a little," she said, but he knew it was a flat lie. She was holding the slip upside down and pretending to skim her eyes over it.

At being directly lied to, he felt a tingle surge through his arms. Bane snatched the slip from her faster than she could react much less comprehend. In a flash, he pressed his forearm against the front of her neck and pinned her by the back against the wall. Her legs brushed his as she froze like stone. Her smile disappeared. She gasped. The brim of his hat bent against her forehead.

"Listen up," he hissed, "you never, ever lie to my face. Nobody does that to me and gets away with it. I'm not warning you a second time."

Blythe nodded feverishly. She was breathless, eyes wide.

"Never, ever...just, don't hit me. Don't hit me."

With that, Bane pulled away from her and sat back down in his chair. He had scared the daylights out of her. Well, good—they were getting started on the right foot.

Nah. Too early to ruin such a pretty face.

Bane could feel her eyes boring into his back as he activated the small datapad on the table, which was connected to his secondary account on the Coruscant system. Once he had tapped in the code on the proof-of-purchase slip, his thirty-five thousand was transferred back to Solarin in Hawke Noth Cantina within minutes. Rendering the slip now useless, Bane stuck it in an unused coat pocket as a worthless but stand-alone token. Meanwhile, the Lethan was standing motionless, still frozen like stone.

"Happen to know the time?" he asked her, although he could have taken a long-shot at the answer.

She paused and glanced around for a bit.

"Must be not noon yet. The hell for?"

"I have to go collect my payment," he said quietly, still clenching his fists from that tingling. "I purchased tickets for the two PM train to the meeting place outside of Happyface. Say what you want, but you're coming along."

"Can't stay here? But I loving it here."

"You're going to do as I say, do you understand?" The tingling still ran so hot in his blood that his hands begged to break things, preferably somebody's neck, even hers if he was cut loose enough to do it. But this time, he fought it back until it died out like a cold ember. Keeping his cool was not simple advice at this point. Then again, if there was one thing he could not stand, it was being lied to.

Her voice trembled slightly as she said,

"Sure, Bane Cad. Sure."


Bane tossed a can of food from the conservator towards the Lethan, as it was getting close to noon and she hadn't eaten anything as far as he knew. Forgetting to thank him, she began shoving the food into her mouth with her fingers. He made a remark about her table manners and lack thereof, but didn't know exactly what he said. Instead, he was recalling how Acun Ragnos had eaten like that once in prison after the Jedi Masters gave up on starving him for better interrogation results. His ordeal had lasted almost a whole month before he was allowed to taste food again. That's the sort of thing you see during prison life.

"Be ready soon. Train leaves in a hour," he muttered to her.

"Where's the train go?" Blythe lay on the bed, dressed in her revealing tunic from the night before as well as a spare pair of pants Cato Parasatti must have left once after shape-shifting. Bane was already checking over his belt, stashing away an extra blaster to be on the safe side.

"That's not for you to know," he replied.

Blythe said nothing and swallowed another mouthful of food. On her fourth spoonful, Bane heard her start to choke as it went down the wrong pipe.

"Can't you even eat right?" he asked scornfully, keeping his back towards her so she couldn't see the sneer on his face.

Surely, considering last night, she must be somewhat civilized.

"S'nothing," she said softly, as her free hand squeezed the corner of one of her pillows. "Don't know why always been problem for me long as I can remember, too."

"I'm not waiting."

Bane replayed Solarin's words from their last conversation in his mind. The longer he did, the more it became plain to him that if he wanted the Lethan to hang around for at least some time, she was going to need some medicine. He didn't know what sort of diseases she may have picked up from any species on any system. Of course, the most medicine could do for such diseases was work to flush them out as best as they could. But take that exposure? Not a chance. And frankly, Bane didn't want to take any risks in that category. He had seen enough of the side-effects in washed-up felons and ex-convicts scattered throughout places like Happyface, Nal Hutta, Mos Eisley, to know better than to test those waters.

The train station was only a couple blocks down. No one had ever accompanied Bane when he went on one of these breaks to pick up his pay, especially not a skinny Twi'lek girl. After self-debating over whether to send her to another hideout or take her with and spare the expenses, he went with the latter. Increasingly, she was proving to be a heavy weight, literally slowing him down. They were already behind schedule. But what else could he do? Leave her behind as part of a trail someone could track him down with? Never. She was his now, as much as his double blasters or Xanadu Blood or his hat.

Bane couldn't help but wonder in the back of his mind, though. When he did leave her behind at the next stop when he left on a hiring, how would the Lethan cope? Would she take care of herself and follow the rules?

For the first time in a while, he couldn't answer his own question.

The train station was a gray, five-level place full of scattered crowds. A few poor creatures lay passed out in puddles of booze and shit, ignorant to the fact that they were being constantly trampled. The concrete walls of the station were streaked with juvenile graffiti. Overhead, the P.A. system announced that the two PM would arrive in one minute. Blythe nearly tripped for the second time. Perhaps women in her line of work were naturally clumsy as soon as they were out from underneath the bed sheets—he'd believe it.

Suddenly, Cad Bane felt his hand touch his holster.

The sound of an approaching train in the distance was high-pitched, like a metallic woman's scream. The murmurs of the crowd had become but a low buzz. He heard something else.

"Blythe," he said to the girl at his side, "Stay where I can see you, understand?"

"What for?" she asked, almost in a giggle.

"Don't ask why. Just do what I say," said Bane, gritting his teeth. He held his blaster tightly. The ground shifted underneath him. His eyes scanned the surrounding faces.

His next breath stopped halfway down his throat. Only several yards away, he had seen a distinctive Boltrunian head. The tattoo on the side of its face revealed he was a member of the Dio family, a puny empire but a fierce ally to the Corrino's.

Stinkhole Corrino's always need someone to watch over their sorry ass...

The train shrieked in the distance. A sudden light burned his eyes, like the first ray of morning after months in a dark prison cell. Blythe turned. He heard a word try to escape her lips, and he hissed,

"Don't talk. Did I tell you to?"

She shook her head silently.

Bane spun around, pulled out his blaster, and fired into the crowd.

The Dio fired back and missed by less than a yard. Screams erupted around them, screams of pathetic terror.

"Three dead Corrino's because of you!" shouted the Dio, and he fired again.

Bane ducked and pulled Blythe by the arm until she stood behind him. About ten feet away, somebody crumpled to the asphalt ground, a hole in the middle of her forehead. Panic broke loose from its dog chain of everyday normality all about the station. Some glanced around to see where the shots were coming from. Most just fled to save their hides.

He fired back at the Dio and missed yet again. His eyes strained to see the Boltrunian through the scattering crowd. Shrieks pierced the air. Somebody elbowed him in the gut while running past. Another almost barreled right into him. In the crowd, he caught a glimpse of the Dio. Bane aimed for his head, fired, and grazed his tattoo.

"You owe the Corrino's, bounty hunter!" the Dio cried.

Fuck the Corrino's, he thought to himself, biting back the words.

Bane took several steps back while slipping out of the next few shots from the Dio. An opening appeared in the panicking crowd—he took it, and fired once. He hit the Dio right in the chest. The Boltrunian dropped faster than a dead droid. Bane had scarcely any time to give himself a pat on the back before three blasts from the right sped right in front of his chest, all missing him by less than an inch.

A second! Drawing out his other blaster, he stretched his arm to his right and fired three blasts.

A third Dio raced out from hiding several yards ahead. Two seconds later the Dio ran behind a pillar, bracing himself up with his back pinned to it. A few seconds passed, and then he stuck out his arm and fired. Bane did a somersault to roll out of the next onslaught of blasts, which were coming from the second attacker he had yet to spot out.

Bane could see the third one hiding behind a pillar, but that one would have to wait for now. The train was screeching to an agonizingly slow stop, grinding its underbelly against the tracks. He fired to his right twice more, but the shooter had disappeared into the crowd again. Bane darted his gaze back to the pillar. When the Dio's arm popped out again, after which his head, Bane took the shot in a flash.

It was a perfect shot, right between the eyes. He hadn't had such bastardly luck since his last job with the Hutt clan. Drinks all around.

Then he heard them—security sirens.

"Blythe, get on the train," he shouted.

"Can't move," she cried. He couldn't tell where she was. Had she been shot? Was she still behind him? He hadn't listened for her voice hard enough to perceive.

The train stopped.

"Do it—now," he snapped.

Shit, she'd better listen to him. If she got into the wrong hands, there's no doubt that as of now she would be willing to break the rules and squeal for them. Until he was certain she had learned her place, he could not let her too far out into public.

Like right now, for instance.

He pinned his back behind the nearest pillar, holding his breath, and fired back at the second Dio still hiding among the scattering civilians. The sirens were closer. A blast suddenly nicked him in the shoulder. Bane grimaced under his breath and cranked his neck around the side to find the shooter, as another blast chipped the side of the pillar. The light flashed in his face again. This time, it wouldn't go away. His eyes were beginning to burn, but he had no choice but to ignore it.

"Republican security, do not interfere," a droid's voice boomed from the direction of the sirens.

Just before Bane could turn back, he saw a Boltrunian head appear in the crowd. He lifted his blaster and shot upon instinct, hitting the Dio just below the neck.

And fuck the Dio's too.

The train let out a shrill whistle, as passengers flooded through its doors in an attempt to escape the shootout. Bane pressed one blaster to his chest and then began to make a run for his exit. An explosion went off in his shoulder. He stumbled to a stop. He must have been hit harder there than he thought.

A blast struck the pillar above his head, almost knocking his hat off. It must have come from a sniper.

"Oh, fuck them all,"he spat.

Where was that light coming from?

"Republican security. Cease fire or we will shoot!"

Cad Bane slid to the other side of the pillar as a running passenger smacked his side in a mad dash. He had to run and make it to the train—but he couldn't. Why?

Force, that light was burning, and burning.

The train made a final shriek. Than he heard it begin to move along the tracks.

"Republican security, halt immediately!"

No time to start looking for snipers.

In a last desperate move, Bane reached for his belt and pulled out the closest detonator he could find. Then he planted one foot out, turned, and threw it in the direction of the blast. He sucked in one last breath, choking down the pain in his shoulder, and bolted for the train. The floor felt slick with blood.

A dozen alarms went off when the detonator discharged. The crowd screamed in unison. The explosion heated his back and made the ground shudder. He didn't care to turn around and see how much damage it caused. Black smoke and debris were already filling the train station. The Republican droid's voice went static. Just as the train doors were beginning to close, Bane hopped up the steps and slipped inside. Once through the doors, he quickly placed his blasters back in their holsters. The blinding light was gone, but his shoulder felt like it was on fire.

"What the hell was that?" the train passengers were gasping all around him. A few were sobbing about how they could have been hurt or killed. Truly, pitiful to listen to.

The Dio's and the Corrino's had been allies for over a decade, and everyone knew about that. Of course the Dio's would be the first in on the vengeance against Gasta and now, Kel and Sexen. This body count was going to get interesting—and exciting, too, as long as his employers kept paying him for it.

But no one had known Bane would be at the train station.

No one.

Bane backed up and put his hand over his shoulder to slow the bleeding. It hurt, but was not a new sort of pain, more than not an annoyance that he would have a small chore to do after he had collected his payment. He turned to the nearest passenger, a trembling middle-aged Rodian woman with a gnarled stick for a cane.

"Did you see what happened?" the woman asked before he could speak up.

"I hardly saw any of it. All I caught was the explosion. Must've been hit by a piece of shrapnel."

"Are you all right?"

"I'll be okay. It's just a scratch. Did you happen to see a young Twi'lek get on this train?" he asked, keeping his voice lowered. Fuck, he hated working with civilians.

The old Rodian pointed to the third aisle, eight seats down.

"You mean the Lethan? She's over there. When the first shots went off she turned all purple and coughed up a little blood. We let her lie down and did what we could. She's resting now, but a minute ago she didn't look so good."

As the woman was speaking, something occurred to Bane. No one had known they were going to the train station, except Tukoga Noth. He had watched Bane buy the tickets at the cantina. He could have seen which train the tickets were for.

Bane clenched his jaw. So, his little pal Tukoga had finally decided to turn on him after all. Well, it wasn't as if he was the only one around these parts bribing the nearest businessman to keep his nose clean or hold a secret. Tukoga was just like the rest of them—Parasatti, Dooku, Hardeen—as he had known would happen, anyway. To think anyone no matter their occupation or skill could be trusted was reserved for the mystic fools stuck in a self-made fantasy bubble.

He made his way down the aisle and sat down. The Lethan's face was still slightly purple in the cheeks. She was curled up against the window, her eyes closed. Her breaths rose in sharp, quick, little wheezes. With a small sigh, he sat down in the vacant seat next to hers. By then, the bleeding in his shoulder had slowed down and died to a numb aching.

Well, shit. This was going to be more complicated than he thought it would be.

Bane let his head rest against the back of the seat. He suddenly felt tired. Exhausted. No more mistakes. No more slacking off. It was time to get busy, to get back on the road. The time for winding down and cooling off had officially ended as soon as those Dio's started firing at him. Once again, that time had ended. He would be back.

Then his crimson eyes looked down and rested on the face of the Lethan—Blythe. Her eyes were closed but she didn't look asleep, as if she were trying to hear someone speak to her from far away. Her throat trembled with every breath she took, and her arms lay limp at her sides. When he touched her, she was cold.

She doesn't even know how to take care of herself, he thought.

He had been right after all. Now what was he supposed to do?

Slowly, so not to wake her, he put his arm around her shoulder, pulled up her legs until they were draped over his lap, and held her head against his chest. Every time she shook it made him tremble a little. He leaned his good shoulder on the window, watching the city drift by. There had always been too many people here. Too much noise, too much screaming.

Bane touched, delicately, the gaps were her ribcage was visible. Pale, crisscrossing stretch marks crackled against his fingers. There were overlapping scars against the insides of her thighs. In spite of his growing disdain for the burden she was becoming, he began to wonder. How many times had Solarin killed an unwanted, accidental infant in her so she could give him all the more profit? How many times had some drunk promised to do it the safe and easy way and ended up causing some serious and uncalled for damage?

Bane had seen other Twi'lek girls just like this one, and he had paid for a passionate ten minutes with a couple of them as well. But none of them had been this sick, this half-dead, or half-alive.

What had happened to her?

It was at that moment that he suddenly remembered—

The only method of survival was to do what anybody wanted you to do for a price.

That wasn't just her. That was him.

But it couldn't possibly be the same, could it.


Revision Note:

The relationship between Cad Bane and Blythe is established as a tad darker in this one (as if it couldn't be anymore). Basically more of a confirmation that Bane only views her as an object and almost a sub-species. A view, of course, that is tested by the end of the chapter. And, added a sweet little parallelism to wrap up the day.