Romantics liked to hold onto the notion of a soul mate, that there was someone out there meant for everyone. Unfortunately, there were approximately four hundred billion stars in the galaxy, roughly half of which had planets capable of supporting life. Only ten percent of those had actually developed life and sentient life rose up on only a thousandth of them. With nearly one hundred quadrillion beings roaming an area about thirty-seven parsecs wide, finding that someone presented a daunting challenge indeed.
And I wound up with this bunch, Lynli thought.
They'd set down on Tatooine; Mos Eisley spaceport was getting to be like a second home to them, where the Cuun'yaim's crew went to find work. Buruk's Zabrak contact, Nilak, usually had jobs lined up for them, legal and otherwise. He was a part-time fence, money launderer, infochant, and middleman with a bowler derby and a sneer, and right now he and Buruk were engaged in a deep, philosophical debate concerning the finer points of salvage rights and how much the risks taken were worth to the parties involved.
"We got what you asked for," Buruk said, arms folded across his chest while he leaned over the vid display of Nilak's scruffy features. "Squibs were pretty kaden about it, seeing as how their scouts marked it before coming back with a bigger ship."
"Occupational hazard, I'm afraid," Nilak replied casually. Lynli would've liked to punch the teeth out of that smug grin of his. He was a square dealer, sure, but he liked to lord over them whether they could afford to fuel the ship and eat. "Isn't that why you got guns on that Firefly of yours?"
"Once this sandstorm passes, we'll bring the cargo by," Buruk said, changing the subject. The Squibs were tenacious and the ship had actually taken a beating on the way out. "Have the money ready for us when we get there."
"Tell Qate I said hi," Nilak said before Buruk cut the transmission and his image disappeared in a cloud of static.
Buruk turned around and grinned at his partner with a playful look in his eyes. So, he's in one of his good moods,Lynli thought and smiled back. She sat across the cockpit from him in the copilot's seat, legs crossed and lekku draped casually over her violet shoulders.
She liked seeing him like this; it meant he wasn't worried about Jedi or Kex, the Mando traitor—aruetii, she thought in his language. His mindset was where she wanted it, in the moment with her, not dwelling on his past. Maybe it was the payoff coming to them, maybe it was the Jedi he'd killed on Ryloth, maybe it was the continued fading of the lightsaber scar over his right eye, but whatever the cause he was definitely more at ease these days.
"Care for a game of cu'bikad?" he asked, tossing his long red braid around his neck like a scarf. He'd been trying to teach her the Mandalorian game for while now. It involved stabbing blades into a checkered board, sort of like a cross between darts and chess.
"Sure," she said brightly, getting up and following him out of the cockpit.
"You know, we've got a lot of money coming to us from this job," he said casually as they made their way down the corridor toward the galley. "I know it's not exactly Cloud City, but I might be able to buy that dinner I promised you."
"And the slinky dress?" she chuckled.
"And the slinky dress," he added, laughing along with her. Yes, things were definitely brightening in the Buruk Department.
In the galley, Qate sat at the dinner table, cleaning the sawn-off barrels of her blaster carbine, boots propped up on the tabletop. Ganhuff stood nearby, making more advances while she scrubbed the carbon scoring out of the bores with a stiff wire brush. There was the slightest tinge of blue at the corners of his eyes, indicating he was mildly spiced. It seemed he could only function as long as he had a buzz; any other time he was either too high or too delirious from withdrawal to even speak, let alone work. "Letting your imagination run wild?" he asked casually, glancing down at the brush thrusting in and out of the barrel, then looked back up at her with a wink.
Lynli rolled her eyes. Ridiculous.
"Doc, I could cut your gett'se off," the Zabrak replied, not looking up from her work.
"I understand," he said, affecting a wounded tone. "You don't want to compete for my affections." He turned to Lynli, placing a hand theatrically over his heart. "Lynli, I'm sorry, but there's someone else. I know we shared something special, but the old Ganhuff must give way to a newer one, and the new Ganhuff is for only one woman—at a time…" He placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. "Can we still be friends?"
Lynli stiffened, eyes suddenly wide as dinner plates, as Buruk looked between them, confused. Her cheeks flushed and her heart raced.
"Am… I missing something?" he asked.
A few months ago the Mandalorian had mistaken Lynli's attempt at genuine affection for mere seduction and stormed out of a dinner she'd prepared just for him. She'd gotten so angry at him that she slept with the ship's lecherous doctor out of spite. It seemed like just desserts at the time but she'd felt so ashamed afterward, as if she'd only proven him right about her. She'd kept it her dirty little secret, trying to put the event behind her, but the di'kutla doc had just laid it out in front of everyone; she was just glad Aerek was down in the cargo hold practicing staff fighting with Maalku so they hadn't heard it.
Lynli did the first thing that came to mind. She ran. Stiff-legged, she left the galley, heading aft to the engine room, and sealed the hatch behind her. For several minutes she just stood there frozen, slumped against the bulkhead, forcing her breathing to slow. I can't believe he just did that, right in front of everyone! She slid down the wall into a sitting position and put her head in her hands, elbows propped up on her knees.
She sat there for several more minutes, just trying to let her mind go blank, but it was no use; the questions just kept invading. How would Buruk react? Would he think Ganhuff was joking or just spiced? Would she have to leave the ship? She hoped not. This was the longest she'd ever stayed in one place, relatively speaking. The fact that he'd named it the Mando'a word for "our home" hadn't been lost on her.
W4-L3, the ship's utility droid affectionately referred to as Wally, trundled up to her and whistled curiously. He was short, with a disk-shaped head dominated by a large blue eye surrounded by several smaller orange ones, and a blocky droid chassis on four wheeled legs. He practically lived in the engine room, rarely venturing from the ship for fear of molestation by ill-mannered organics.
"Not so good," Lynli answered him, looking between her fingers at his blue primary eye. While she didn't really know exactly what the little droid said, she could infer his meaning from the tones and sounds he emitted.
He tootled at her, raising pitch at the end as if asking a question.
"More trouble with You-Know-Who."
He hooted mournfully.
###
Buruk busied himself inspecting his arsenal, tweaking the sights on his new shatter rifle at the dinner table. Typical, Qate thought, crossing her arms over her chest. Always retreats to his toys when he doesn't want to face something.
Aloud, she said, "So, you're not going to ask her what that was all about, then."
He set the small tool key down on the table and looked up at her, exasperated. "Why's it so important I talk to her?"
"Because that's what you're supposed to do for people you care about." She frowned at him, uncrossing her arms and planted them on the tabletop, leaning forward and glaring directly into his face. "Remember?"
He took up the tool key again, went back to adjusting the rifle. "She doesn't tell me about herself," he stated matter-of-factly.
"Show some shabla interest and she may surprise you."
"Why do you even care?" he asked.
"Why don't you?" the Zabrak countered icily. After a pause, she stood straight and turned to leave. "Fine, I'll go talk to her."
She passed through the hatchway toward the engine room. Ganhuff had slunk off elsewhere, either to his quarters for another hit of glitterstim or off the ship entirely to find a sabacc game or a bottle to crawl inside. He'd better pray I don't come across him, glitbiting chakaarla little wretch…
She reached the sealed hatch to the engine room and rapped lightly on the durasteel. "Lynli," she called. "It's Qate. Open up."
The hatch parted a crack. "What do you want?" the Twi'lek woman asked warily. She heard no sobs in her voice, that was good. She was strong at least.
"I want to talk. Come on, open up."
"Do we have to talk here?" she asked. Wally whistled something behind her.
Qate sighed. "Come out, I know a place. Service is good and they don't water down the drinks." Then she added with a chuckle, "Can't afford to on this planet."
Lynli snorted and stepped out into the corridor. She looked reasonably composed, no tear streaks, no bloody knuckles or other physical injuries, and so far as Qate knew, she didn't stash any ice cream back here. "Okay. Drinks first, then talking."
###
The Methane Fix was the deceptive name of a small cantina just across Dune Street from their docking bay, so they could make it through the blowing sand without much trouble. Nestled in the shadow of the Dowager Queen, it was the most popular drinking establishment in Mos Eisley after Chalmun's. It boasted a wide array of exotic drinks from across the galaxy and stood out as the only cantina in the city to allow droid customers—provided they or their owners purchased two drinks for them every hour they occupied the building to make up for taking space away from potential drinkers.
Qate sidled up to the bar and handed over the sawed-off double-barrel blaster carbine that normally rode her hip. "Narcolethe," she ordered, then tossed a few credit coins on the bar.
The bartender handed over a foam-topped stein of thick, dark ale, then turned to Lynli who checked in her own, less robust blaster pistol. "And for you?"
"I'll have a Ruby bliel-tini."
Qate slapped her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. Could she have been any less mandokarla? To the barkeep, she said, "Get her an Alderaanian ale."
"What's the big idea?" Lynli demanded, eying the glass of pale amber liquid with disgust.
"Got to toughen up that liver of yours, ner vod. Drink up." And with those words, she downed her own large mug and, after wiping foam from her mouth, asked for another. "Ah, like mother's own milk!" she declared enthusiastically.
"So, what'd you want to talk about?" the Twi'lek asked, nursing her glass.
Right to brass tacks, huh? All right. "Why'd you run out in a fit like that? You really nuhoy ti the doctor like he said?"
"Nuhoy ti?" she repeated with a confused look. "Go easy on the Mando, I haven't got it all figured out yet."
"You know, boff? Have a naughty? Sleep with?" She took a big gulp of her narcolethe. "Nuhoy ti."
Lynli's cheeks flushed and Qate had her answer. "Bit of advice," the Zabrak woman said. "Don't play sabacc. Anyway, why'd you go and do a thing like that? I gather you wanted to keep it secret from Buruk."
"I was mad at him," Lynli admitted, sipping her ale.
"And you thought that'd punish him."
"I wouldn't say I was really thinking."
"How'd you two meet, anyway?" Qate asked, genuinely curious.
"He tried to collect on my bounty, I knocked him out, then ran off with all of his money." Qate snorted. "Then he pulled me off a drifting starfighter to collect on me again but I rigged his ship so he needed me around to keep it flying. Been together ever since. What about you? How'd you two first hook up?"
Qate's smile faded and she ran a hand through her frizzy brown hair. "Crazy things happen after your number nearly comes up," she said, as if by way of explanation. "We were nineteen. I'd been idle for a few years, not at the top of my game but eager to rejoin Jango's standing army. Personnel just came and went as they pleased. Buruk, he stayed right there with him since day one, all the way up to… to Galidraan." She spoke the name of the planet reverently, as if it was some holy place, and took another drink.
"Anyway, we got tasked to shake down this service droid manufacturer that defaulted on a Banking Clan loan. You know how they are." Lynli nodded and she continued. "Jango decided it'd be best for a commando team to infiltrate the corporate HQ and take the CEO hostage, ransom him back to the company for what they owed, and collect our pay; easy as uj cake. Know who got to lead the team?"
"You?" Lynli guessed.
"Me. And when I tripped the chakaar's office defenses, we got pinned down by six droidekas, ready to have our 5et'se for breakfast. Buruk left his perimeter station and led an all out assault on the HQ building, pulling my wounded shebs out of the fire."
The Twi'lek nodded. "So you fell for him because he saved your life."
"No," Qate shook her head and she took a shuddering breath as unpleasant memories she'd pushed aside came flooding back. "That's just how we met. I fell for him because I was lonely and he made me feel whole, like a person again.
"I had a family on Ordo; a husband and daughter." She reached into a pouch on her belt and pulled out a holograph of herself, cradling a bundled infant in her arms and standing beside a red-skinned Zabrak man with his head shaved around his horns and a big bushy beard with mustachios braided into it. The sleeping baby's horns barely appeared as raised nubs on her bare skull and her serene face was unmarked. Both parents had big, happy grins splitting their tattooed faces.
"She's beautiful," Lynli breathed, gazing at the child's face. "What's her name?"
"Meshurok," Qate answered. "It mean's gemstone in Mando'a. His name was Roklan; it's a Zabrak name. I loved them both so much."
For several heartbeats they sat in silence, gazing at the holograph, until Qate returned it to her belt. "Anyway, that's the reason behind my grey armor; I mourn them everyday, and every night I recite their names so they live on for eternity. That's what we believe; if you remember someone your whole life, they're eternal and so is everyone they remembered. And when we're dead, we are too, thanks to whoever remembers us. That's what being part of the manda is all about." She took a swig of her drink, then to break the grim atmosphere that had settled over them, added, "Buruk had better be teaching this to that boy or I'll stomp his guts out."
Lynli chuckled. She'd been ordering refills since Qate's story had begun and felt a little lightheaded. "So did you nuhoy ti him?" she asked.
"Oh I boffed his brains out," the Zabrak answered with a grin. "So don't worry about him getting mad about you and the Doc. He hasn't got a chaste leg to stand on."
"Well now I need details. Barkeep, shots!"
Things got pretty wild from there and, thanks to a bottle of Corellian whiskey, neither Qate nor Lynli fully recalled how the conversation went, but eventually the Mandalorian woman asked, "Exactly why is it you're interested in a chakaar like him anyway? I mean, kaysh chaavla sa shebs be'striili—he's rough as a strill's backside."
"Probably the same thing that drew you to him back then."
Qate slammed another shot, savoring the burning sensation and smoky aftertaste as it trickled down her throat. "That's making some awful big assumptions about me."
Lynli looked down at the floor, then back up to the other woman with an expression that said she was leveling with her. "I thought he was dangerous."
Qate snorted, nearly choked on her whiskey. "Did he use that osik'la line on you?"
"What line?"
"Oh you know." She did a fair imitation of Buruk's voice and said, "Danger is my first name." When the Twi'lek looked lost, Qate explained, "Buruk is the Mando word for danger."
This time Lynli snorted. "His parents named him Danger?" She guffawed, slapping her knee. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. And he actually uses that line?"
"Used it on me at least a dozen times."
They laughed together for several minutes, until it hurt and they had to stop and suck in long, deep breaths. Several of the cantina patrons turned to stare at them but they ignored the odd looks and Lynli recomposed herself.
"I saw a psychologist once, years ago, after I escaped that slimy shabuir Hutt," she explained. "He told me all these things about the cognitive processes of rape victims, how they usually turn promiscuous or seek relationships with men they think are dangerous. Maybe he was right; I did a lot of things I'm not real proud of to get by in the galaxy. But Buruk never took advantage of that; he never looked down on me, no matter how many times I came onto him; and he never cast me out. Thanks to him—his influence—I'm living the way I want to live: free. And I want to live free with him."
###
Aboard the Cuun'yaim, Buruk was engaged in the dogfight of his life. No matter which way turned, his opponent stuck doggedly to his tail, undeterred by even the fanciest flying. "Won't get me that easy!" he declared, raising his ship's nose and spiraling away from a deadly laser barrage.
"Zap! Zap! Zap! Got you!" Aerek shouted excitedly, weaving the small plastoid facsimile of a Z-95 Headhunter in his hand through the air.
"Aw!" Buruk cried with mock indignity. Then he smiled, flipped his own toy ship upside down, and sent it hurtling down to the cargo bay deck. "Ka-boom! Nice flying, ad'ika." He reached out, ruffled the boy's dirty-blond hair, and was surprised when Aerek grabbed his wrist and rotated his arm around into a disabling hold. "Jatne!" he chuckled.
Suddenly the main entry hatch hissed open. Turning his head, he saw Lynli and Qate step aboard the ship, laughing about something. Lynli trotted up the stairs, across the catwalk, and up toward her quarters while Qate approached with a folded sheet of flimsi in her hand. "Here you go," she said as she passed, flicking it out to him between her index and middle fingers.
Buruk took it with his freehand and asked, "What's this?" He unfolded the paper and saw the sum of one thousand one hundred and forty credits written in neat letters and underlined.
"It's an invoice," Qate explained. "Two hundred and eighty five credits an hour for four hours of psychotherapy administered to one of your crewmembers. I thought about rounding it up to fifteen hundred but decided to give you a discount for old time's sake."
She grinned at him and looked to Aerek. "Good technique, but try placing your hand here on the shoulder for more leverage." Buruk felt a sharp stab of pain up and down his right side and gasped; Qate knew her way around a disabling hold. Releasing him, she strode off to her own room, calling back over her shoulder, "I told you to just talk to her."
As Buruk rubbed his shoulder, Aerek looked up at him and said, "I sure hope she doesn't walk in during marksmanship practice."
"Me too, Aerek. Be a good lad and put your toys away for now. Got to get this cargo to Nilak before he decides he doesn't want it anymore."
While Aerek gathered up the plastoid starfighters in his arms, Buruk climbed the staircases to the upper deck and found Lynli pouring herself a glass of water in the galley. Closing the hatch behind him, he sat down at the table with a sheepish look on his scarred face and said, "Okay… Let's talk."
"About what?" she asked, turning toward him.
"The Doc obviously wasn't just joking around, not with the way you acted earlier. What's going on between you two?"
"Nothing," Lynli insisted, sitting down across from him. "We just slept together." She looked him right in the eye as she said it, didn't even flinch. "I tried to do something nice and you rejected it, so I got mad and slept with him. That's all. It was petty and childish and I'm not proud of it, but there it is. Then things got weird between us and I didn't want to deal with it, but now I'm dealing with it."
Buruk was taken aback by her directness. That talk with Qate—and, judging by her breath, the alcohol involved—must have really loosened her up. He chewed his lip for a moment, thinking. He didn't feel betrayed; they weren't technically together so he had no more claim to her than Ganhuff had, but there was a jealousy there he couldn't deny. If he'd been younger, he'd have been tempted to cut the doctor's gett'se off and feed them to him, then drop his shebs off with the law.
"Just the one time?" he asked instead.
"Yes just the one time," she answered as if he should have known that already. She reached out and laid her hand on his. It felt warm. "Be mad if you have to be, but I want this to work."
Buruk nodded. "Okay. Then let's do this right. Dinner after we get paid for this cargo?"
"And dancing," she added, as if she were haggling over the cost of a new compression coil.
"A holo," he countered.
"Dancing," she repeated, not letting up. Buruk could see he wasn't going to win this one.
"Okay, dancing."
Lynli stood and strode to the aft hatch. "It's a date. See you then, Danger."
His mouth gaped and his cheeks burned as he watched her leave. Shabla dalase, he thought. Women.