Tamai liked to watch Cin sleep.
Maybe because it was one of the few times she saw him calm, still, and at peace. Maybe because it reminded her how lucky she was to be here, with him again. Or maybe it was simply because it was so rare these days.
He was vulnerable when he slept, and that itself was the rarest thing of all. He let his defenses down when he closed his eyes to rest. He was vulnerable for one of the only times during the day. Completely at the mercy of those he was with. The fact that he allowed her to be there those defenses came down was strangely touching. For a Mandalorian at least.
She propped herself up on one elbow, smiling lightly as she watched his eyes roll and move beneath his eyelids. His lips were slightly parted, one hand folded close to his chest while the other was cupped under his jaw, pinned between his cheek and the pillow. His helmet was resting on the bedside table, as if standing in silent vigil while its owner slept. She knew the metaphor was more apt than most would think; his helmet's scanning systems were probably surveying the room even now, and would alert him if they detected anything amiss.
Ah, the ever-present paranoia of the bounty hunter. She smiled wider as she reached over and traced her fingers over the intricate green-black tattoo that adorned his arm. From a distance, it looked like a simple thing – little more than two dark stripes that stretched down to his wrist before joining over the back of his right hand. But upon closer inspection, she could see that it was actually a dazzling collection of complicated swoops and arches, sharp edges and geometric patterns, all confined within twin bars of color. The artistry was breathtaking.
She'd heard of the Kiffar and their ritualistic tattoos. They signified clan membership and social status among their people. But when the truth of Cin's alien heritage came to light, he'd spent months trying to tie the tattoo to any known clan in the galaxy. The search yielded no results.
She knew that the ink had once been even more impressive. It had once covered almost half his face, stretching over his right eye, before it had been forcibly removed by his former Imperial employers. In tribute to this missing feature, he had placed the stripes on his armor, most prominently over the right side of the helmet dome. It had become an iconic part of his kit.
He moved in his sleep, shifting to the presence of her touch on his arm. One of his hands reached up and covered her own with the tentative, unfocused touch of a dreamer. She squeezed his fingers and he murmured something she couldn't hear.
Strange, she thought, how much he's changed since we parted ways all those years ago. How much we've both changed.
She had changed quite a bit since they'd seen each other last. Her hair was longer, her body taller, leaner, and stronger, and a little of her fiery youthfulness had died down after years spent on the frontier. Cin was older, bigger, and deadlier than before, his pale body marked and marred by an intricate spider web of old scars and burns. But the same sweet, shy boy lurked behind those cold blue eyes, just as the same passionate fighter still thrived in Tamai. The galaxy for all its cruelties hadn't eradicated the people they had been. Not completely. Not yet.
Thank the Force for that, she thought. When I first saw him in the jungles, I wasn't even sure he was the same person. Whether he'd remember me. Whether I would still…
She didn't let herself finish the thought. It was too soon, after all. Far too soon after they'd finally settled their differences and reconciled after almost four years to bring up such silly matters like love. But still, she couldn't ignore the warm feeling that blossomed in her chest at the sight of this fearsome warrior lying quiet and vulnerable next to her. It was a strange feeling, but a welcome one. It had been a long time since anyone had made her feel that way.
He suddenly changed. The smile on his lips faded into a furrowed brow and a small frown. The hand covering her own twitched, then fell away. His eyes rolled faster beneath their lids, and his arm tensed beneath her fingers. Something was wrong. He'd gone as stiff as a board, his feet kicking beneath the sheets. The cords of his neck stuck out sharply in the dark and his hands clenched into fists. His lips pressed into a tight line, then parted as he let out a pained gasp.
"Cin?" she shook his arm, but he didn't wake. "Cin, what's wrong?"
He let out a groan and clutched at the sheets. He'd broken into a cold sweat, and his feet thrashed beneath the covers harder and harder with each passing moment. He dug his face against the pillow, a tortured grimace crossing his shadowy features.
"Cin, wake up. You're having a nightmare."
He suddenly threw himself onto his back, arching and clasping at the sheets with an iron grip. She was about to shake him again when there was a sudden flash of pale, sky-blue light. The room lit up like a Nar Shadda bazaar and Tamai cried out at the sudden glow. She winced away and shielded her face, frantically wondering where the sudden blast of light was coming from.
Then she saw that Cin's eyes were wide open and the light was pouring out from them with all the strength of a speeder's illuminators. His face was a perfect mask of agony, twisted into a tortured facade that twitched and contorted into terrifying, near-inhuman expressions. Tamai's heart, only moments ago warmed at the sight of him, now plummeted into her gut for the same reason.
Oh no. Not again. He was having one of those nightmares. One of the dangerous ones. A psychometric relapse. He was trapped in an endless loop of his own worst memories, a prisoner of his mind and his past.
She didn't know what to do. He'd had these nightmares before, but she'd never seen one of the attacks up close. And Cin himself had warned her to stay far away for as long as the attack lasted and to not – under any circumstances – to touch him.
She scrambled away, moving as far away from him as possible as he writhed and squirmed about on the bed. He threw his head back, his breath coming in pained gasps. His arms were shaking, fists clenched so tightly she could hear the sheets ripping. A second later he began screaming.
I can't just sit here, she thought as his agonized shrieks filled the room. I have to do something.
She acted before she had time to doubt herself. With a desperate gasp, she threw herself back over the bed and clasped his hand tight in her own. She had a half-second to think, Oh kriff, this was a bad choice.
Then the world dissolved into a formless whirl of agony. Her vision went black and her head spun. Pain ripped through every nerve in her body and her vision flashed blue. She felt like she'd been plunged into an inferno of sapphire flames, and she was sure she began screaming as well.
When she'd been little, she'd stupidly stuck a beskar knife into a power socket on a dare. The ensuing shock had burned her hand, singed her eyebrows, and sent so much electricity through her that she'd shorted out half a Keldabe block. The sensation now wasn't all that different.
She wanted to let go. She wanted to throw Cin's hand away and never touch him again. But her muscles had locked and she couldn't let go now, no matter how much she wanted to. Her fingers twitched hard, trembling under the strain. She felt herself bite her tongue, felt blood suddenly flood her mouth. But she couldn't pull away.
Then the images began. They were subtle at first, little more than shapes in the darkness behind her eyelids. They flickered and warped in her mind, even though her eyes were wide open. Then the shapes and figures began to take form. They resolved into perfect clarity, and with them came other sensory information: smells, sounds, and sensations.
A strange woman's face jumped at her from the darkness, screaming, "Hold on! Don't let go!"
She jumped back, away from the shrieking face, and the world dissolved back into darkness. Everything roared around her and she felt a strange jerking sensation, as if the world had suddenly lurched away from the ground. The woman's face retreated and she realized she was suddenly flying, head-over-heels, through open air. Cold wind buffeted her, throwing her about so fast her head was whipped from side to side with painful speed. She screamed, long and loud, but could not let go of Cin's hand.
The scene faded, replaced by Rame's blurry visage. The gray-haired man's face was drawn and angry, a stunning and frightening counterpoint to his usually cheerful demeanor. He had a cut over his eyebrow, which dripped blood down in a long stream onto his cheek.
"Until you learn to behave yourself," he said, his voice echoing as if from down a long tunnel, "the cuffs stay on. It's for all our protection, yours included."
Tamai was no longer in control of her body. She lunged at him like a beast, snapping at him with her teeth. Her hands were suddenly bound together by heavy stun cuffs locked around a post. She was filled with a base, animalistic fury, and wanted nothing more than to rip this strange man's throat out – preferably with her own hands.
Like before, the image faded away into the void of pain and confusion. She stumbled about in this strange mental wasteland until another image flashed to life.
She saw herself, but from different eyes, like she was a spectator outside her own body. Even with her pain-addled mind, she could guess whose eyes she was hijacking. The impostor Tamai's face was younger, smoother and unmarked by the scars and grime of Ranger work. She was maybe thirteen or fourteen, and her expression was livid, much like Rame's. Her brows were furrowed furiously and tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her hands were clenched into quivering fists, and Tamai found herself worrying about how close those fists were to the daggers sheathed on the imposter's belt.
The impostor Tamai shoved the real Tamai hard in the chest, sending her staggering back a few steps.
"You're lying!" the impostor Tamai shouted. "You always lie!"
"I'm telling the truth," the real Tamai found herself saying. "I wouldn't lie to you."
"I don't believe you! And I don't care!"
"Tamai—"
The impostor Tamai punched this time, and the blow landed hard against the real Tamai's cheek. She cried out as her head was whipped to the side from the force of the strike. She rubbed at her cheek while the impostor Tamai shouted, "Go! Leave and never come back! I never want to see you again!"
Even in her strange state, the real Tamai felt a hot flush of shame at the image. She remembered it well. This was when she'd broken up with Cin the first time, when she'd been convinced that he'd cheated on her with Brianna. It wasn't true, of course, but she hadn't believed it and it hadn't stopped her from accusing him and immediately breaking up with him. It was the last time they'd seen each other before their reunion in the jungles almost a month ago.
Thankfully this image dissolved as well, replaced by yet another. And another. She saw Janada, holding her hand and reciting a traditional adoption vow. She saw stormtroopers, their chests carved open and throats slashed by some blunt instrument, strung up from tree branches by their ankles on some unknown forest world. She saw Darth Vader striding between lines of assembled mercenaries and booming out assault orders. She saw Brianna laughing at some joke while she painted the sunset from the plaza outside the Oyu'baat. She saw a trembling, terrified little girl, barely older than sixteen, pleading for mercy while a blaster, clasped tight in Tamai's unwilling hands, raised and aimed at the girl's forehead. She saw a young woman, battered and bruised like she'd been mauled by a rampaging reek, hold out her hand and say, "My name's Jay Kolta. Pleased to meet you."
Then the world went cold. Sensation slowly drained away in place of a dull, aching throb in her temples. Through the dark, a man's voice barked, "Get this scum processed. The Whiteclaw scientists want to have a go at him before the day's up."
A second later, splitting pain stabbed into her chest. She hunched over and screamed as another lance of agony plunged into the other side of her chest. Something inside her cracked, and her lungs filled with ice.
She looked down and saw that she was suddenly strapped to an operating table. Needles protruded from either side of her chest, from her arms, and from her legs. They chugged and sucked softly, sluggishly pushing fluid through tiny opaque tubes and into her body. Her lungs surged up with something icy and thick and heavy, until she gagged and vomited sticky black sludge down her front and—
She screamed and was lost in the whirlwind.
Jay's apartment, downtown Keldabe
Jay was pinned before she could move to defend herself. She tried to get her hands underneath her, to force herself back up to a sitting position. But before she could, strong hands wrapped around her wrist and held her down, immobile.
She wriggled a little, then laughed and cried, "All right! All right! You win! Now let me go."
Denton, stretched out over her, shot her a crooked grin. "I've got you right where I want you, Moqena. You're not going anywhere."
Then his hands raced down to her sides and began to tickle ruthlessly. She thrashed and tried to fight him off, batting away his hands and giggling. After a few harried moments, she managed to get her knees under her and shove hard. Denton flipped to the side, onto his back, and Jay quickly reversed their positions. She threw herself on top of him and used her weight to press him down against the bed.
"Seems like the tables have turned, Draal." She smirked at him, her hair falling in an unkempt curtain around her face.
"From your point of view, maybe," he replied. "But things are still looking pretty good from where I'm at."
She laughed and put her hands on his chest, pinning him down. "You're a good sport. But that doesn't make you any less a loser."
"Give me five minutes. I might change your mind."
A mock pouty-face from her. "Only five minutes? I'm disappointed. I hope you can do better than that."
"Come here and let's see."
She leaned down and captured his lips with her own while his hands came up and buried themselves in her hair, holding her close and ensuring she didn't try any more funny business. Her hands trailed over the chiseled muscles of his abdomen, teasing up and down his abs. One of his hands came to rest at the small of her back, massaging the dip of her spine with a soft, pleasurable back-and-forth rhythm.
On the bedside table, her comm buzzed. She ignored it.
With a grunt, Denton reversed their position and pinned her once more to the bed. Her shirt was hiked up by the motion and he ran his fingers along the toned muscles of her bared stomach. She giggled and her torso muscles clenched against her will. Denton leaned closer, his lips tracing along her jaw, and whispered, "You are so beautiful…"
With a short burst of breathless writhing and wriggling, she managed to get him out of his shirt. Seconds later, her shirt followed. Her hands raced over his body faster and faster, and when he nibbled at her ear she let out a happy gasp and arched against him.
Her comm buzzed again. The excited motions and happy giggles stopped, replaced by a weary sigh from her. She put her hands on his chest, bringing the evening's activities to a jarring halt.
"Hold up a second big guy. Let me check that."
"C'mon," he said, capturing her lips in a quick kiss. "Let it ring. Whoever it is can call back later."
"In five minutes?" she said with a smirk.
"I was thinking an hour." He pressed his teeth into the pulse point at her neck and she writhed against him with a contented sigh. "Maybe two."
Jay had to admit, he made a compelling counter-offer. They grappled and kissed in silence for a few minutes more, losing more and more clothes in the process. But Jay's comm kept buzzing relentlessly on the bedside table, until Denton sighed and slumped over her with an exasperated grunt.
"You sure you can't put that thing on mute or something?"
"Sorry, Den'ika." She sighed as well and gently pushed him away. He sprawled unhappily onto his back. "Duty calls, I'm afraid."
"You sure?"
"In my line of work," she said, pulling her pants back up, "it's not wise to ignore comm calls this late at night. It's probably important."
"If it's your partner again," Denton grumbled, "I'm going to kill him myself. Interrupting us is starting to become a habit of his."
"He's only interrupted a date once," she reminded him. She pulled her undershirt down and scooped up her comm.
"What about that time we were having dinner at the Nebula? And that bolo-ball game two weeks ago?"
"Shh," she chided him. "I'm on comms."
She held the unit to her ear and triggered it. "This is Moqena. State your business."
There was a click on the other end; the call was a prerecorded message, then. There was a hiss of static, then a familiar voice began to speak.
"This is Captain Kalyn Farnmir of the freelance transport Tough Luck. I'm transmitting this message from a top-secret Imperial research station in Wild Space, beyond the Outer Rim. The station has been conducting research into viral weaponry, and their containment measures have failed."
Jay felt her heart plummet into her gut, but the message wasn't over. There was another hiss of static and Kalyn continued, "The virus has been released into the air system. Most of the station is beyond saving, but we have a small number of survivors. We need immediate extraction and medevac for wounded and sick personnel."
Another pause. "But I'll settle for you, Rookie. If you can hear this, Jay, get your partner and get to these coordinates as quickly as you can manage. Project Whiteclaw is at it again."
The huntress' last words made Jay's blood run cold. Project Whiteclaw. The scientists that had kidnapped and tortured Cin. They were back?
Kalyn finished the message by rattling off a quick string of coordinates. If Jay's knowledge of intergalactic travel was as accurate as she liked to believe, the coordinates led to a site a few hundred parsecs from the Barooq system. Uncharted territory.
The comm message clicked, then began to repeat. Jay quickly hung up, tossed the comm unit aside, and began scrambling back into her clothes with hurried, jerky motions. Denton sat up with a concerned frown.
"What's wrong?"
She shook her head. "Like I said. It was important. I have to go."
"Now?"
She nodded. "I need to get to Cin. If he hasn't heard already, he will soon. We're going to need to get on this as quickly as possible."
He sighed explosively and fell back against the bed. "When do you think you'll be back?"
"I don't know. A few days, maybe a week. Maybe more."
"You sure you have to do this?"
She nodded. "I do. It's Whiteclaw, Denton. You know how important this is to Cin."
"Then let him deal with it. This is his fight, not yours."
"We've been over this before. His fights are my fights."
"No, they're not," he insisted. He rose to a sitting position again and clasped her hand tight in his own. "Whatever he's gotten himself tangled up in, it's not your problem to solve. He's a bounty hunter and has been one for longer than you. I'm sure he can figure this out on his own."
"I know you worry about me. But I'll be fine. I promise."
He didn't let go of her hand. His voice grew more insistent. "I don't want to lose you, Jay. I love you."
She sighed, tracing her thumb over the contours of his hand. "I know. And… and I care about you too, Denton. But I'll be fine. Trust me."
He stared at her for a long time, and something dark invaded his gaze. His face fell and he let go, falling back onto the bed. There was a definite note of a sneer behind his voice when he said, "All right, then. Go help your friend. I'll be waiting for your comm call."
"Thanks, cyar'ika." She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. "Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it."
His expression was unreadable. "I'll hold you to that."
With a breathless, desperate wheeze, Tamai ripped her hand free of Vhetin's iron grip. She toppled back off the bed and thudded hard against the floor, backside throbbing from the impact. Something crashed and shattered next to her, but it was lost amid Cin's continued cries of agony. Blue highlights lit up the darkened bedroom, making Tamai's head throb and her eyes water.
She rubbed at her sore wrist, her breath coming in pained gasps. She felt like she had just run a marathon in full armor and her legs felt rubbery and unsteady beneath her. With a groan, she braced herself on a nearby end table and hauled herself to her feet. Her balance wobbled violently and she staggered, at least until she supported herself on the wall. Cin continued to thrash and moan on the bed.
Her heart was hammering uncomfortably hard against her ribs and she felt like her hands would never stop shaking. She winced every time that blue light passed over her.
Was that what his nightmares were like? A chaotic flood of memories – good and bad – that assaulted him every waking moment of his sleep? They had felt so real…
She shook her head and quickly regretted it, pressing the heel of her palm hard against her temple with a sharp hiss. Her balance was still wobbly, but she managed to take two steps back toward the bed.
She never wanted to feel that again. That pain, that fear, that chaotic swirl of memory and confusion. She winced as Vhetin arched his back again and let out a long, desperate wail. When his breath was gone, he collapsed back to the bed and began panting, sucking in great lungfuls of breath while his arms twitched and his legs kicked hard at the bed. The steady stream of blue-white light didn't stop seeping from his eyes.
What can I do? she thought, wringing her still-trembling hands. I don't know how to help him, and I can't get him out of this without touching him again.
A sick feeling of helplessness flooded her. She couldn't just stand by and watch him suffer, but she didn't know how to help. Maybe if she made some kind of loud noise he would wake and—
Cin's handheld comlink, lying on the table next to him, buzzed loudly. She jumped at the sound, then covered her heart with one hand when she realized its source. The comm unit, which didn't care how startled she was, buzzed again even louder than before.
She took one last glance at the bed, then scooped up the comm unit and clicked it on. She quickly stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her, muffling her boyfriend's screams.
"Tamai here," she said. Her voice was shaking harder than she liked.
"Hey, it's… Tamai? Why are you answering Cin's comm?"
"Hi, Jay." She recognized the voice of Vhetin's partner. "Cin… he's indisposed at the moment."
"What's wrong?"
"He's…" she bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder. Her voice and body both were still trembling. "He's having another one of his nightmares. I tried to wake him up, but I ended up touching him, and I saw these things…"
She took a deep, calming breath. It didn't help. "I-I don't know what to do."
There was silence from over the comm. Then Jay said, "I'm on my way to the bastion. Try to calm him down. I'll be there soon."
"I don't—"
"How did Rame take care of him when this happened before? When you two were younger? I know he used to have this kind of attack back then"
Tamai wracked her brain. It was so long ago, the memory buried under years of Ranger training and adventures on the frontier. "I don't remember… he said not to touch him, b-but that breaking skin contact was enough to protect from his psychometry?"
"Okay. So grab a pair of gloves and try to wake him up. I'll be there in five."
"All right. Thanks."
There was a grim note in Jay's voice. "Don't mention it. I'll be there soon."
Tamai quickly shut down the comlink and hurried back into the room. Cin's screams had died back into exhausted, breathless whimpers now. His limbs moved sluggishly across the bedsheets, which were soaked with cold sweat. A sluggish trickle of blood was leaking from his right nostril.
There was no time to wait. Tamai scooped up her suit's gloves, which had been carelessly tossed on the floor by the bed. Her heart was racing uncomfortably at the prospect of touching him again in his current state, but she knew how dangerous it was to leave him like this.
His nightmares were worse now than they had been when they were young. Back then he'd wake up, drenched in sweat and panting, talking about nightmares of transport crashes, of fire and screams. They were remnant memories of his accident, of the crash that had left him brain damaged and unable to remember his past.
Now they were stronger than ever, reinforced by all the terrible memories he'd made as a bounty hunter. And this time when the nightmares struck, he didn't wake up.
She pulled the gloves on and returned to the bed, her hands hovering over him as if she were about to defuse a bomb. Her throat was suddenly tight and dry, as if she had swallowed a mouthful of sand, and her whole body was trembling.
If this were a combat situation, she would chide herself for acting like a coward. A real Mandalorian, she would say, relished a challenge such as this. But given the gravity of what she'd just seen and felt, a little fear was understandable here. Summoning up all her considerable grit, she clenched her teeth, closed her eyes, then reached out and shook his shoulder.
No visions came. No pain raced through her fingers at the first brush of her hands against his arm. She just felt his quivering muscles clench and release beneath her gloved fingertips. A long breath huffed past her lips and she slowly relaxed. At least she knew this would work.
She shook him again and he tried to writhe away from her hands. His back twisted painfully, his arms and legs splayed out at uncomfortable angles. But the blue light that poured from his eyes flickered for the briefest of moments.
She shook him, harder this time, and hissed, "Cin, wake up. You need to wake up."
He groaned and arched his back. This time, the blue light dimmed considerably. She reached down and clasped his hand tightly with her gloved one, while her other hand continued to shake his shoulder.
"Wake up, Cin. It's all right. Just wake up."
Then the light suddenly blinked out, as quickly as it had appeared. The room was cast into darkness and Cin sat bolt-upright in bed, his chest heaving and his eyes glinting unnaturally bright in the dark. His frantic gaze raked across the darkened bedroom before falling on her. Then they softened.
"Tamai," he said, his voice quiet and shaking. "D-did you…"
She hesitated, then nodded.
In an instant, it was like all the strength had fled from his body. He reached for her, and she allowed him to pull her into a tight and desperate hug. He buried his face in her hair and she wrapped her arms around his sides, holding him close.
"I'm so sorry," he hissed, stroking her hair. She closed her eyes at the sensation, feeling the slightest bit of tension finally begin to drain away. "You should never have had to see any of that. I… I could have killed you…"
She drew back and shook her head with a small smile. "It'll take more than a few weird dreams to put me in the ground."
"It doesn't work that way. You know that."
"I know. I just… I just couldn't stand seeing you in pain. So, I…"
She trailed off with a sniff and a helpless shrug. He stared at her with that same sorrowful, apologetic look, then reached up and cupped her cheek. "Te Manda's sake, what did I ever do to deserve you?"
Her hand came up and covered his. She smiled at him. He smiled at her. Then he gathered her up in his arms and she hugged him back, burying her face in his neck and letting out a sigh of relief. They stayed that way for some time. The nightmares were over for the both of them.
Ten minutes later Cin was sitting at the table in the kitchen, cradling his helmeted head with one hand. His temples were throbbing and his entire body was sore, pulsing with a dull ache that seemed to settle right under his skin. Even getting into his armor, usually second-nature to him, had been a painful chore. Every motion sent fresh tingles of discomfort coursing through his body like wildfire, like every nerve was being pricked by some unseen needle.
Tamai was sitting next to him, nursing a cup of hot chocolate in her hands. The drink was one of her favorites and after the night they'd both had, he was sure she needed the comfort. Since he'd woken from the nightmare, she'd refused to let go of his hand. She was clasping it tightly even now.
His body was still shaking from the adrenaline of his nightmares, weak and overstressed from the surge of adrenaline and pain. But the shame that crawled around in his gut made the sensations seem like a treat. His eyes had remained fixed on the rough tabletop since sitting down, his mind racing with a thousand self-deprecating scoldings. He never should have let Tamai touch him. He should have agreed to sleep in a different room, should have told her what would happen if she interfered. He never wanted her to experience his nightmares too.
It was selfish, he thought. Selfish to ask her to move in here, even if only for a little while. I'm too dangerous for her. I should have realized that sooner, before I got her wrapped up in all of this. She didn't sign on for this, and it's stupid of me to expect her to stick around when I'm turning the bedroom into a one-man lightshow every night.
He didn't care that she'd told him not to apologize, that it had been her choice to touch him. He didn't care that she had waved away all his apologies. He could have seriously hurt her. He could have killed her.
He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart and felt the invisible needles set to work on his aching lungs. He grimaced and forced himself to ignore the pain, focusing instead on the memory of her wide-eyed, terrified face, the first thing he'd seen upon waking. He never wanted to see that sight again. Something had to be done. Something that would keep her safe from the ravages of his volatile psychometrics.
Before this line of thought could continue, he heard the bastion's front door crank open and quickly slam shut again. He looked up just in time to see Jay enter the room in an obvious hurry; she was still pulling on her armorleather jacket and awkwardly tucking her pistol into the holster on her hip. Her hair was disheveled, there were bags under her eyes, and even as she appeared in the doorway she was rubbing at her eyes with a weary sigh.
The weary sigh turned into a relieved one when she saw the two Mandalorians sitting at the table. Her shoulders slumped a little and she let out a soft curse. "Thank the Force, you're awake."
"For what it's worth," Vhetin croaked from his seat, not turning his gaze from its place perusing the intricacies of the wood grain of the table top. His throat was parched and scratchy and his voice grumbled up from his lungs with the texture of two rocks grinding together.
"You look like osik." Her expression softened. "You both do."
"Right back atcha, Moqena." Tamai tipped her mug toward the woman in a sarcastic toast. "Around here we say good morning."
"Is… is there anything I can do? You know, to help?"
Vhetin hunched lower and rubbed his palms over his cheeks, forgetting that his helmet got in the way. His gloved hands ran instead over the hard planes of his bucket, igniting a fresh little wave of tiny needles. "Not unless you can magically scoop my brains out and stop them trying to kill me."
"No luck there, I'm afraid," Jay said. She slid into the chair across from the two and looked to Tamai. "What about you? Are you okay?"
"Peachy," the blonde replied, her voice echoing within the depths of her mug.
"So what did you need to talk about?" Vhetin asked. "You wouldn't have come all the way up from Keldabe if it wasn't important."
"It is important," she replied. "Possibly the most important thing that's come our way in months."
Against his better judgment, his interest was piqued. "Do tell."
"Kalyn Farnmir messaged me. She said she's under attack in a top-secret Imperial space station a few hundred parsecs into Wild Space. It sounds bad."
"Not surprised to hear she got herself into trouble. But why—"
"It's Whiteclaw, Cin."
Vhetin's question died on his lips. His entire body froze, as if locked by stun cuffs. For a moment, he thought he had misheard. But there was no mistaking that word.
Whiteclaw. He'd always suspected the project had survived the destruction of the Facility on Qorbus. Imperial science projects were like carrion roaches; no matter how sure you were they were squashed, they always seemed to get back up and scuttle away to a new dark corner. But still, he'd somehow never imagined what it would be like to actually hear of its return.
His voice caught in his throat and he had to clear it awkwardly before he managed to choke out, "What else did Kalyn say?"
"She said the researchers were working on some kind of viral weaponry project. And now it's out, poisoning their air supply and trapping everyone inside, Kalyn included. She needs help, Cin. The fact that she's coming to us only makes it all the more serious."
He nodded. His motions felt sharp and jerky, like he wasn't fully in control of his body. His fingers had gone strangely numb, as had his toes. Everywhere else seemed to suddenly be stabbed by those thousand tiny needles all at once.
"All right," he finally said. "When do we leave?"
"As soon as you're ready." She didn't look surprised by his eagerness to depart. "Vengeance is in the clearing, waiting on standby, but we can both take Void if you'd prefer."
"That would be best. Void's stealth systems should come in handy. If there was an outbreak, we can be sure the station's been locked down by now. We'll… we'll have to sneak in."
He felt his stomach churn dangerously and his throat tightened like he was about to vomit. Just the mere thought of Whiteclaw and its experiments seemed to immediately bring back all the old feelings of the neo-pneumonia virus they had given him. He felt like he was about to purge a batch of preservative fluid from his lungs, a feeling he hadn't encountered in months. He couldn't be sure, but he suspected he was suddenly turning a pale shade of green beneath his armor.
Tamai quickly caught on to his discomfort. She clasped his hand tightly and said, "Jay, can you give us a minute?"
"Sure. You all right?"
"The nightmare," Vhetin managed to croak. "It was… rough this time. For both of us."
It was a lie of course, but not so much of one as to be worthy of reprimand. His partner glanced between them, then nodded and stood from her seat. She hurried from the room, dialing out a comm number as she went, and as soon as the vheh'yaim's main door slammed shut behind her, Vhetin reached up and yanked off his helmet. It bounced hard across the table and fell to the floor. His face was pale and clammy, forehead beaded with sweat. His heart beat a thundering rhythm against his chest, seeming to rap against the chest plates of his armor.
Tamai squeezed his hand. "You okay?"
He shook his head and swallowed with difficulty. "No. No I'm not. I always suspected they'd be back, that they'd…"
He hesitated, then stood from his chair and let go of her hand. He turned his back to her and leaned over the sink. His stomach was still rolling dangerously and he covered his mouth with a gloved hand in hopes that it would keep any lingering preservative fluid down. His meds kept the worst of the symptoms at bay and suppressed the neo-pneumonia virus to the point of near-extinction until the Keldabe doctors could find a true cure. But it always paid to be prepared for the worst, just in case.
"Hey." A chair scraped across the floor and Tamai appeared at his side. She squeezed his arm and rested her chin on his shoulder. "It's okay," she murmured, her breath cool against his ear. "Whatever Whiteclaw is planning, you can handle it. I know you can."
He shook his head. "Whiteclaw… they're different, Tamai. I've faced down gangsters, assassins, and even Sith. But these guys…"
He leaned toward her, resting his clammy forehead against her soft, smoother one. "They're the first ones I'm not sure I can stop. The things they did… to me, to the others…" He glanced at her, then quickly away. "I've never seen anything like it. Never felt anything like it."
"And they'll never do it again," Tamai pressed. "I won't let them take you again. I only just got you back, after all."
"I'll hold you to that," he said with a dry laugh. "You'll have to be my dedicated rescuer this time. Jay will be glad for the break."
"Cin," she said seriously and squeezed his arm tighter. For some reason, the subtle pain of her grip focused him and drove away the swelling knot of fear and panic that had formed in the pit of his gut. "You can handle this. You faced them down once before already and you can do it again."
"Kriff," he sighed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I hope you're right."
She caught his cheek and turned him to face her. He resisted a little, until she leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Only then did he close his eyes and lean into the embrace. When she pulled back, far too soon for either of their tastes, she smiled at him.
He didn't smile back. Instead, he focused on committing that image to memory. Tamai, with her pale blond hair and beautiful green eyes. Tamai, warm and happy and loving, standing by him even in the worst of times when all the galaxy seemed to be setting itself against him. Tamai, who represented everything he was fighting for, everything he'd be willing to die for if necessary. The strength of such an image would carry him long after the strength of his body had forsaken him.
"Those Imperial bastards owe me for what they did," he eventually said. Now, his voice was low, calm, and strong. "I'm going to make sure they pay."
Tamai's smile grew wider. "There's the Stripes I know. Oya, cyar'ika."
He pushed away from the sink. His stomach had finally calmed and his jitters had been replaced with a cold, levelheaded calm.
"Oya."
Five minutes later, Vhetin strode out of his vheh'yaim, securing his helmet over his head as he went. Jay glanced up from her comm at his approach, then muttered a quick farewell and returned the unit to its place on her belt.
"You ready?" Vhetin asked. He had his rifle tucked against his shoulder. Slung over his back was a rucksack of supplies. She spotted guns crammed inside. Lots of guns.
"Yeah," she replied and hurried to fall into step next to him. "I just got off comms with Rame and told him where we were going. Are you okay?"
He brushed past her, heading straight for Void without looking back. The spearhead-shaped ship was resting on its landing struts not far from the bastion. As he approached, an unseen trigger from his helmet unsealed the entryway and extracted the landing ramp.
"Never better," he growled.