Part I: A Line In The Sand
Arriving on Tatooine in search of legendary scoundrel Tyresius Lokai, the duo is attacked by Lokai's hired goons while he evades capture.
A still-grieving Mako grows resentful of the hunter's decisions to delay confronting hunt rival Tarro Blood, claim the Empire's bounty on Republic scientist Albea and turn in The Eidolon to a vengeful Hutt syndicate.
Before they can begin tracking their bounty they'll have to confront the emotional tension that's brewing between them.
. . . . . . . . . .
The glare of twin suns beat down on the two dejected-looking figures leaving the spaceport.
Passing the countless scrap metal, second-hand equipment and food vendor stands, the hunter paused a moment, allowing her eyes adjust to the drastic change in lighting.
For a dust bowl settlement on a rocky desert planet, Mos Ila was certainly a bustling hub of activity.
"Definitely have to invest in a pair of progressive-tint goggles," the hunter said, shielding her eyes. She looked over at Mako, who remained expressionless. Aside from the occasional one or two-word replies, the slicer had remained silent since their departure from Nar Shaddaa.
If her partner insisted on being needlessly offended by the Twi'lek's decision-making this was going to be a long job. Scratch that. A long hunt.
Consulting her multi-purpose wrist cuff, the hunter learned there was a cantina to the north-east; a four-minute walk. The aches from the skirmish in the shuttle hangar with their target's hired goons meant the stroll was more likely to take closer to ten.
"There's a rest stop a little ways from here," the hunter said aloud. "Keep right at the split in the road. Look out for a Siltshift Cantina sign. We'll quickly set up base camp there before following the lead on that pfassking sleazebag Devaronian."
Still no acknowledgement from the incensed Mako.
The hunter sighed. She'd give the girl a little slack for the time being. Mako'd lost a lot in a short amount of time; her father-figure, her colleague, and most recently her unusual childhood friend Anuli.
Limping along the walkway the hunter redirected her frustration by fantasizing about putting a blaster bolt right between Tyresius Lokai's shifty little eyes.
Sounds of overlapping banter and the tones of a schnazzy jizz band wafted up from the Siltshift's sub-level. The place smelled like dirt, sweat, and home-brewed booze.
At the back of the lobby, the duo found the reception desk attended by a human male clerk. His eyes were fixed on the figures projecting from a portable desktop holoviewer.
As they reached the desk the man paused his device.
"Welcome to the Siltshift Cantina, your oasis from the scorching desert sands," he said apathetically, as though reading from a script. "I am your faithful concierge, Gavis Plurga. How may I help you, weary travellers?"
"Hello, Gavis," the hunter greeted the vacant-eyed man with the intentionally dishevelled hair. "We'd like to book a room. What's the rate for a two bedder?"
"Two rooms, please." Mako's voice called out from behind startled the hunter.
Gavis nervously glanced between the two women.
"Uh ... right ... it's eighty credits a night for the room with two single beds. One hundred and thirty-five for a single room; it's got a double bed."
He used the countertop keyboard to activate a small, slowly rotating holo-projection of the two room layouts.
"We'll take the two bedder furthest from the lobby," the hunter said, setting her elbow on the counter and leaning in to ensure Gavis knew exactly which one of them was holding all the credits.
"Actually, we'll take the two separate ones," Mako maintained with a straight face.
"Would you excuse us, please?" the Twi'lek addressed the attendant with a courteous smile.
"Of course," he said, looking concerned and somewhat scared. Probably the man's default expression.
Gavis stared at the pair for a moment before resuming to watch the holoviewer.
Trying her best to keep her cool in the sweltering room, the hunter gently pulled Mako aside out of Gavis's hearing.
"Listen, I don't know what's gotten into you," she said as politely as she could between clenched teeth. "But we ain't paying for two rooms 'cause you're upset about turning over a bounty to the clients who bountied him in the first place."
Mako crossed her arms and furrowed her brow, staring down the hunter. If she wasn't the size of an orokeet the Great Hunt contender might've found her somewhat intimidating.
"We can afford it, then. You collected that hefty bonus, remember?" Mako contorted her face, emphasizing the word 'bonus' like it was a bad case of Bothan Nether Rot. She reached forward and poked an accusatory finger just below the Twi'lek's collarbone.
"Go back to the ship," the hunter sighed, shaking her head and ignoring her partner's overt attempt to rile her up. "If you change your mind and want to work — remember that thing called the Great Hunt we're on? — I'll be setting up base and leaving within ten minutes. I'll let Gavis know you might be back for a room card."
The Twi'lek walked away and returned to the reception desk to book a room with two beds.
Six minutes into room setup the hunter was almost ready to take care of the final detail: contacting the ship droid to meet her at the nearby marketplace. 2V-R8 would provide adequate combat support — the Plan B for an absent Mako. Plan C was the dormant kolto probe droid in her backpack. They could still keep on time and on budget with the adjustment, though it left little margin for error.
The hunter took as many vials of electrolyte water as her backpack would allow, then strapped it on, testing how the weight affected her movement and quickdraw speed.
When she turned towards the door Mako was leaning against the closed door's frame.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Got something on my mind," Mako replied.
"You've got three minutes," the hunter reminded her.
"Is money always going to trump doing the right thing?"
"The point of a job is to make money, Mako." The hunter's voice was stressed. "I'm not doing this for charity."
"That's not an answer."
"It is an answer. Just not the one you were hoping for."
"So, you're saying you'll suspend your morality for additional pay."
"First, you don't know me well enough to hold my morals against me," the hunter replied, waving her index finger in a single lateral warning motion. "Second, there was no 'right' or 'wrong' with The Eidolon. Either I shot him or he became Hutt palace wall art. No happy ending there, but maybe being frozen in carbonite was the more humane option."
"Are you saying the money wasn't a factor?"
"Of course it was a factor ... and it'll keep us fed and supplied for a while."
"And what about Albea?"
"Albea?" The hunter was drawing a blank.
"The Republic scientist we found locked up in Fa'athra's palace."
"Again, she was a bounty. Not a play date. You didn't object to taking down the other bounties on that list. Why get sore over her?"
"Albea wasn't like the others!" Mako objected. "She wasn't some sleazy criminal. She was a professional, a scientist. Maybe her work was saving lives!"
"Maybe her work was biological warfare, Mako," the hunter countered. "Just because someone seems 'nice' or 'unassuming' or 'professional' doesn't mean they're not a threat, honey. You're forgetting Murghir."
"And that's how you expect me to sleep at night." Mako's response was less of a question and more of a challenge.
"If you're sleeping, you're alive," the hunter said, strapping on an extra ammo belt. "Be angry at me all you want. Just don't forget Albea's payout bought you some much-needed armor and a blaster upgrade that saved your ass in the Dark Temple. You're giving me a lotta grief over this, but I'm keeping you alive."
"So, a life in exchange for some gear makes it okay?"
"This from the girl who wanted to blast the Great Hunt investigator for simply looking at you sideways, and who's been bent on jeopardizing our chances over a vendetta against Tarro Blood. If I hadn't stopped you we'd've squandered our spot for nothing — twice! Yet I'm the villain."
"Tarro killed my friend! My father! And now Anuli's dead," Mako's voice quivered. Her eyes were tearing up.
"And you're still here. Ever think what would've happened if you were in that room? Would you have been prepared then to pick up a gun, pull the trigger to defend your loved ones?"
Silence hung in the air.
"I don't know," Mako's voice escaped as barely a whisper.
"This is what being a bounty hunter is, Mako," the hunter said in a sympathetic tone "Gotta get blood on your hands sometime. I made it very clear that as soon as you stepped off the fleet shuttle your training started. You agreed."
Mako slumped against the closed door and hung her head. Looking down at the ground.
The resolute Twi'lek knew her partner was conflicted, but a hunter hunts or starves ... worse yet, dies. It was the harsh reality she'd known for too long before meeting Braden.
The clock was ticking. If this didn't wrap up in thirty seconds they'd be behind schedule.
"Stay here. You're not ready for this," the hunter said. "We were already in the thick of things, and I didn't see I should've started you out real slow."
"People are dying, girl," tears were streaming down the diminutive technophile's cheeks.
The hunter stepped forward to place a compassionate hand on Mako's shoulder to reassure her.
"Did you want to put down The Eidolon yourself? For Anuli? Is that what this is about?"
"No," Mako said, sounding defeated.
"Keep your head on straight and don't let those deaths be for nothing."
Mako exhaled deeply, then wiped her face.
"I know," she said, looking solemnly at her Twi'lek companion. "I'm sorry."
"You're a little hot-head, you know that? the hunter teased, smiling. "I like it ... but curb it on duty."
Mako grinned. Her eyes were still red from crying.
"Fine, fine."
"For now, you're gonna channel that anger into hunting this Tyresius Lokai character," the hunter instructed. "And anyone else who stands between you and him feels a little bit of that wrath. It's how we stay sharp. Got it?"
"Got it. Head, heart, hardware," Mako said, repeating the mantra to reaffirm her commitment.
"Now, what do you think of my setup?"
The hunter had repositioned the beds away from the wall against the back wall, shielding them from view of the door behind a short rectangular cabinet. Cover and distance was needed in case an uninvited visitor surprised them in the middle of the night.
The beds were pushed close together with a modest stockpile of guns and supplies systematically between them. A desk was positioned against the wall closest to the right side bed, with a portable workstation atop it. Mako's gear was propped against its side.
"Not bad," Mako smiled.
"I'm late. Stay here and feed me intel."
"No."
"Then get your ass geared," said the hunter. "Two more minutes and we head to the Varath outpost cantina to pay this Veeboo Lunx guy a visit. Press him for info."
Stepping into the lobby the hunter noticed Gavis was still completely engrossed in his holoviewing.
"What's that?" she curiously asked as she and Mako walked past his desk. "Second time I've caught you watching it."
The startled attendant slammed his hand on the controls, pausing play.
"Oh, I didn't see you there," he sputtered nervously. "I'm ... not supposed to be watching this on shift. You ... won't tell the manager, will you? Because—"
"Tell me what it is, throw in a couple bar tokens and I'll forget all about it," the hunter smiled, pouring on the charm."
"Deal," he said, opening a nearby cabinet with his passcard to withdraw a handful of tokens. He offered them to the Twi'lek and she motioned for Mako to collect the payment.
"It's called Gorgoyya's Court," Gavis explained. "It's one of the hottest holodramas on the net right now. Nine seasons of life among the cutthroat staff in a Hutt's palace. You should watch it. It's good."
"Interesting. Maybe when I retire," the hunter glibly replied. She tapped the desk, "Seeya later."
Heading back out under the blistering Tatooine suns reminded the hunter of Ryloth's Brightlands and suddenly she didn't hate it as much.
She looked up, closed her eyes and exhaled with arms outstretched. "I love this sunshine," she said to herself, bringing down her hands to slap against her hips.
The air was dry and breezeless, but there was an energy in it, a static waiting to spark. Anticipation for the hunt ahead of them prickled atop the hunter's skin.
"Can you feel that, Mako?"
"Feel what?"
"Close your eyes. Breathe in. Tell me what you sense."
"I can sense my hair slowly singeing."
The hunter chuckled. "Okay. We'll get you some climate protection hairspray after we bag Lokai."
"Appreciated."
"Don't worry, Mako," the hunter said confidently. "By the time we've won this contest you'll have kickin' hair and nexu-like battle reflexes."
Mako simply smiled.
The hunter found a reasonable spot on the embankment in front of the cantina to hop down onto the inclined pathway leading to the marketplace.
"We're behind schedule," the hunter announced. She consulting the info display on her wristband after scaling down the rock wall. "Could really do with some protective eyewear, though. The suns'll be killer."
Before she could sprint off on a frantic search of the stalls, Mako tapped her on the shoulder.
"Couldn't find any progressive tint ones, but these should do." Mako handed her mentor a pair of clunky goggles with dark lenses. "Found 'em while I was blowing off steam down here earlier."
The plucky slicer had already strapped a pair atop her own head. "Now, let's go crash this party at Outpost Varath," she said with an eager pep.
"I was starting to think I'd have to replace you with 2V-R8 for a while back there," said the hunter.
Mako scoffed. "That old rust bucket ain't got these moves," she smirked, then dashed off towards the speeder rental stand, weaving between pedestrians and vendors stalls along the way.
"Hey!" The hunter cautiously followed suit, careful not to overheat herself under the sweltering heat of the twin suns.
Glossary
Bothan Nether Rot: an incurable affliction contractable by most humanoids, causing purple-green thigh skin discolouration.
orokeet: the juvenile offspring of orobirds, a non-sentient species of large, flightless avians with bright plumage.
pfassk (-ed, -er, -ing): slang, an adaptable expletive.
