Vhetin's bastion, Keldabe Forest
"Son of a bitch!"
Vhetin's voice was followed by a loud crash from the entryway. The resounding thud of something heavy hitting the ground confirmed that he'd thrown his helmet with all his considerable might. Tamai looked up from her workstation on the floor of the karyai as he stormed into the room. His helmet was indeed missing and a furious scowl was plastered across his face.
She debated whether she should engage him when he was so obviously upset – particularly when he made straight for the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of net'ra gal. He pried the cap off with his gauntlet blade, his eyes so full of fire that it looked like he had just walked out of a gun battle.
She eventually decided to risk speaking up. "Umm… You do remember you can't get drunk, right?"
"Can't blame a guy for trying," he snarled, tipping his head back and downing half the bottle in one go.
"Bad day at work?"
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "The worst. Just got passed up for another hunting contract by one of my informants. That makes five in the last week."
"What's going wrong?"
"The kriffers don't trust me! Half found different private contractors during the three months I was held captive, while the other half think I'm some kind of Imperial spy posing as Cin Vhetin!"
He shook his head and finished off the second half of the bottle. Once finished, he tossed the bottle carelessly into the sink. "It's insane. How am I supposed to keep my reputation clean if no one will kriffing hire me?"
"I'm sure they'll come around," she said as he threw himself onto the couch. "What about Jay? Does she have anything for you?"
"Not for me," he sighed. He rubbed his eyes wearily. "She's getting job offers left and right, but for solo missions. Specifically asking her to not bring a partner."
"Ouch."
"Yeah," he muttered. "Ouch."
"I'm sure she'd want you along if she could work it out."
"I know," he sighed. "It's just… this is what I do, Tamai. And if I can't do my job… what good am I?"
"Hey," she said, moving up to the couch and putting an arm around his shoulders, "you're still you, contracts or not. And even if your informants never trust you again, you can just find different people who will."
"That's easier said than done, Tamai."
"I'm being serious. You're more than your job, Cin. More than…" she gestured to his armor, "all of this. And just because you can't hunt bounties doesn't make you worthless."
"A hunter who can't hunt? That's pretty much the definition of worthless."
"Well you're not. Not to te mando'ade…" she leaned closer and gave him a short kiss. "And not to me."
He fell silent, mulling over her words. Eventually he just sighed and gestured to the messy collection of flimsiplast documents and datapads that littered the karyai floor. "What are you up to?"
"Counterterrorism training," she said, moving back to her original place at the center of the mess. "You wouldn't believe the homework. It's like being back at the Academy."
"What do they have you studying?"
"Right now? Mostly clan history. The actual combat training requires a more hands-on approach."
He cocked his head. "What good does clan history do?"
"Well," she said, trying to organize a stack of flimsiplast reports, "Tobbi Dala was seriously freaked out by Caranthyr and his bombers. He's convinced that the next big terrorist threat is going to come from within. His theory is that if we can understand the various rivalries between the clans, we might get an idea of who'll snap next."
"He suspects the Death Watch?"
She hesitated. "In a manner, I guess. Caranthyr made a lot of boasts, but there's nothing officially tying his attempted rebellion to any kind of resurgent Death Watch movement. At least not yet. It hasn't stopped Dala from going off the deep end, though. He had us running drills all yesterday about how to properly and effectively engage fellow Mandalorians in hand-to-hand combat."
"That's a cheery subject."
She hunched her shoulders and imitated Dala's threatening growl. "The neck, underarms, ribs, and the back of the leg. Those are the armor's weak points. Don't forget 'em, or you'll regret it."
She shook her head. "I know he's basically Uncle Fenn's brother and that makes him part of my family, but I just can't stand him sometimes."
"I think everyone in Keldabe shares that sentiment," Vhetin said with a dry smile. "Shysa included."
She shook her head and stared around at all the scattered documents and flashing datapads that surrounded her. "Do you…" she paused, hesitant to even broach the subject. "Do you really think there could be another attack?"
"I think it's inevitable at this point. The terrorists didn't manage to kill Shysa, but they got pretty damn close. We all walked away from that fight with plenty of bruises. Our enemies saw that clear as day."
A sigh from her. "I was worried you were going to say that."
"Why is it so upsetting? You've probably seen much worse fighting on the frontier."
"That's different," she insisted. "That's just… I don't know, raiders and beasts. Maybe an overconfident foreigner from time to time. It's nothing like this. Nothing like Mando fighting Mando."
One of her datapads beeped, signaling that it had finished downloading the necessary curriculum. Scrolling across the screen were the ancient logs of Clan Kelborn – one of the many Clans on Tobbi Dala's watch list.
"I guess," she said, resting the pad in her lap, "I've seen enough dead vode to last a lifetime. I just want the constant fighting to stop."
She turned in her makeshift workstation and faced Vhetin. She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. "Do you ever feel that way too?"
A tired look darkened his pale blue eyes. "Every single day."
"And… what would you do? If you didn't have to be a bounty hunter?"
"I honestly don't know. Hunting is… well, it's literally all I've ever known. I don't know what use I'd be doing anything else. I guess maybe I'd be a farmer like Rame?"
She laughed. "You? Herding nerfs and planting crops? I don't think so."
He chuckled as well. "I guess it does seem pretty silly. But it's the only plan I have. What about you?"
"Are you kidding?" she grinned mischievously at him and flipped her hair down over her eyes. Just like the fems on Coruscant were wearing it, apparently. "You can't imagine this face gracing all the latest holomagazines? Think of it: Tamai Vasser, superstar musician continues to astound! Oh, Nar Shadda would just love me."
Another laugh from him. "I can think of worse fates. Just promise that if this whole bounty hunting thing doesn't work out, I can land a job as one of your roadies."
She grinned and straightened her hair. "Promise. You can even have a place on the speeder bus with me."
"How generous."
She turned back to her work. "Just think of it as incentive to stay with me and not run off with some other singer."
"Run away from a voice like yours?" he scoffed. "The gods would strike me deaf on the spot for such a travesty."
"Flatterer."
He rose and headed off deeper into the bastion. At the doorway leading back to the kitchen, he paused and turned back to her.
"Tamai?"
"Hmm?"
He hesitated, staring at his boots. Then he held her gaze and said, "I'm glad you're here. Not just with me, but… It's good to have a friendly face during all of this. I'm happy you're back, even if it is only temporary."
"Me too, Stripes," she said with a smile. After he disappeared down the hall, she turned back to her homework and the smile faded to a worried frown. "Me too…"
Author's Note: I decided to vent some of my own frustration regarding the search for employment by putting Vhetin through the same problem. After three months MIA, he's lost a lot of ground, and his lack of traction is something I think a lot of people (myself included) can relate to.
