CHAPTER 16
Running the Table
"I don't trust anyone who makes more than I do."
Fury, 14 BBY
Surface of Katarr
Finish what I started…or…
Let the past die.
Avenge her death.
She is mine.
Burn in hell, fucker.
We shall see.
Light flooded Xur's vision as he awoke, all coming in through the stargazing window above. Squinting before he went blind, the zabrak grabbed his pillow and covered the beam of light, allowing him time to adjust. With his sense restored, and his memory returning, he looked to his right to find empty, ruffled sheets. His head fell back as he smiled, remembering what had taken place last night, and perhaps why he was feeling more ache-riddled than usual.
If that was sex, then he wasn't sure he'd have the same view on life ever again.
But why was Trilla gone?
Quickly, he scavenged what clothing he could find, covering himself enough to be at least acceptable among friends…not at all professional. Coming through the door, somewhat expecting an attack, he saw her, dressed in her garments minus the cape and armor, sipping on a cup of caf while she ran through the holomap. Her eyes darted to him quickly, surely an inquisitor reflex, but her tension soon relaxed, looking happy as ever to see him.
"Morning, darling," she greeted, shutting off the holomap.
"Thanks for the wake-up invite," he said, wiping his eye as he approached her. "Do you normally get up so early?"
She giggled happily as he stooped in for a kiss, before taking the seat beside her. "Excess sleep for myself is about…five hours? And that's a long time," she pointed, taking another sip. "Caf?" she offered.
He shook his hand in dismissal. "No thanks, hun. Never liked it."
She popped her eyebrows. "Your loss, I suppose."
Xur laughed, finding himself just looking at her from his spot. It was strange…being so captivated by her doing absolutely nothing…just sitting there…
Trilla's eyes paced away before returning and giving him an amused smile. "What?" she asked.
He didn't know what to say. "I don't know…you're just…happy."
She shrugged in a matter-of-fact fashion. "All thanks to you."
The zabrak wanted to clamber atop her again, to get a taste of her skin over his tongue, and to feel her body shudder against his. It was an instinct so primal…usually those he had tried to ignore, but this was the most enticing of all, and it just came with letting his eyes linger too long on her lithe form, one that commanded his attention at every turn. However, it was deeper than just her obvious sex appeal, which was plenty powerful, it was how she carried herself. There was a confidence to her stride and demeanor that was especially mesmerizing, and he'd even seen it well before either of them knew each other very well. Twelve years it had been since that sabacc game, and since there had been an undeniable barrier that had barricaded the distance between them.
It was just a shame it took so much pain, and his own death, for it to finally fall, and yet, despite all she had suffered, they had come far enough to finally find themselves again. They would both require time to heal, certainly, but he knew that if they allowed themselves to, the reward would be lifelong.
Now, the biggest question remained.
Xur sighed, leaning back. "So…what now?"
Trilla's smile faded, and he pained to see it go, but the question needed to be asked, and it needed to be addressed. Regardless of how they felt about each other, their obligations still had them pitted against one another.
Which meant someone was going to have to let themselves go.
She sighed, letting her eyes fall to the inside of her cup as it fell atop her thigh. "I don't know."
Xur tipped his head. He needed to switch it up. "Alright. Tell me what you want. Right now, what is it that you want most?"
Trilla's emerald-yellow eyes looked directly to him in an instant. "I want to be with you."
"Okay," Xur nodded, leaning forward. "You understand what that entails, right?"
She paused, looking down to the beskar imperial insignia on her chest, branded to her like a badge of shame that instantly instilled regret within the brunette. There was a limit, however, as part of her felt some of the things she had done were justified, especially actions that surrounded her conflict with Cere.
Which to her, was not settled in the slightest. Trilla had merely sacrificed her pride for one moment, all to save his life, and now that he was back, there was unfinished business that she had to attend to.
"You want to go after Cere," Xur noted, detecting it in her thoughts, and she nodded in confirmation. "I think I understand…but why?"
"I need to hear her say it," Trilla answered, letting her head fall back such that she kept her gaze on the ceiling. "I need her to tell me that it was her fault, and that she failed me…" she trailed off, letting her eyes return to him. "Otherwise I'll never be free."
Xur had, many times, made it clear that he himself held Cere accountable, but when he was the Second Brother, he had preached time and time again to Trilla about accountability. Shifting blame was a lack of integrity that would only fuel the quelling darkness within her, at last placated by the resolution of its driving source.
But there was such thing as the necessity for closure, and Xur knew, one way or another, she would have to look Cere in the eye sometime soon. How it played out was her business, just so long that she was free of the nagging issue that it represented.
He nodded. "Alright…but you haven't answered my question," he reminded her. "The Empire…you in, or out?"
Trilla's expression fell, and part of him felt bad for presenting her with such an ultimatum, but the choice needed to be made, otherwise he feared he could never trust her.
She swallowed and placed her cup on the table, rising to her feet to pace away, and Xur felt the conflict within her. There was courage, but there also a large amount of fear holding her tongue. The indignities she had suffered were life-altering and forever-scarring, and Xur knew he could only lead her to the knife that could cut her strings, but she would have to be the one to perform the action.
"When I was in the Fortress, I had lost all hope of rescue," she recounted, her back turned. "The day I cracked…was the day I had accepted that the Empire was my new home…my new family, and when I placed that helmet upon my head, I had finally felt safe once again."
Part of her smiled at the ridiculousness of it all. "Those Jedi I killed or captured, it felt justified that I was bringing them somewhere safe, and in time they would see it my way. The galaxy became simple…hunt, kill…or die.
"And then you came along…and that safety I once felt was gone. Suddenly there was someone out there who was killing us not only by luck, but in droves," she turned to face him, crossing her arms. "No one would admit it, but you scared the shit out of us."
Xur snorted in amusement. "Good to hear I succeeded in some capacity."
"Of course, in our arrogance we lined up to challenge you, and of course, one by one, inquisitors would face you, and not come back…" she then chuckled to herself. "Safety? Fuck all that. After Zeffo, when you revealed yourself again, the Fortress was quiet. Not a word was spoken about you. It was like you were…" she laughed to herself slightly. "…fucking taboo or something of that nature."
He laughed along, and they both let it ride out. Her joke wasn't even all-impressive, but it did plenty for the two of them. It was just another thing they hadn't done together in so long, and they recognized the importance of capitalizing on the moment.
But when the laughing stopped, her smile faded. "Xur…I need you to understand something," she admitted, stepping forward and falling to one knee, taking his hand into both of hers. "There is nothing I am more afraid of than…" she trailed off, and it was almost torture for her to make him wait to continue, but it was as if she slowly petered out, like a speeder whose fuel had finally run out of fumes.
Xur leaned forward, letting his hand squeeze her forearm. "What? Tell me."
When Trilla rebooted, her mouth almost gaped open, and her eyes locked with his in a stunned realization. "I…I was going to say…but no…all along, it's…" she pulled away, pacing again, and Xur only looked on in concern, eventually rising to his feet to meet her.
"Hey," he eased, pulling her to face him. "You can tell me."
Trilla's eyes shut, and part of her shuddered, but once it passed, she looked upon him with newfound courage. "All this time, I had been most afraid of retribution from that…thing," she struggled to say it. "From…"
"From Vader?" he finished, gripping her tightly for support.
She nodded, but she wasn't embraced by fear as he expected. "Yes…but now…now that I have you here…" she trailed off, caressing his face with her hand. "I would sooner face his wrath than lose you again. The pain he inflicts…it paled in comparison to the agony I felt at your death."
Xur almost told her who Vader really was, but with all that she had gone through, the last thing she needed was another shocking revelation that would only worsen her current condition.
He gripped her wrist and let his forehead rest against hers.
"So listen to me when I say this," she insisted, pulling her head back so he looked her in the eye. "The Empire took everything from me, and whatever may come from me being at your side, I will gladly face. I don't care who it is. No one is taking you from me ever again."
To hear the tenacity in her voice…the fight…it was all the proof he needed.
"Welcome back, Trilla Suduri," he smirked.
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You cunt," she mumbled, before pulling him in for another kiss, to which he happily accepted. "Now I just need to get this thing off," her eyes panned to the insignia again.
Xur reached up, letting his hand glide along her side. "I could help you with that."
"I bet you could," she taunted, grabbing his wrist. "I'm sure you'd come up with some roleplay rubbish too."
Xur almost grimaced. "Ugh…I wish I was that creative."
Trilla turned her head and bit her lip, before grasping between his legs and pushing him away. "If only," she shrugged.
"Your playing with prey instinct seems to have translated to 'play with your man'," he joked, taking the seat across from her as she retook her own.
"Oh? Don't like a little tease?"
"Well…I didn't say all that."
Trilla smiled, eventually letting herself giggle, before fetching her caf from the table and taking a sip. "Well General, since we're both on the same side, how about you give me your spill?"
Trilla and I…on the same side.
No words could properly describe it.
Dathomir, 14 BBY
Highlands
Dathomir was her home…and as far as she could see, it was the entire galaxy. Since Merrin had been born, she had never left this place, and whether or not that was for the better had never been a question she had asked. With the massacre of her people at the hands of the machine army, there was little reason for her to remain…and yet she had nowhere else to go. Seclusion was…bliss, in a sense.
Years went by, and with nothing but time on her hands, Merrin had practiced much of her craft. With no teacher, it had been difficult, but in her solitude, she had progressed even further than she ever dreamed of. Mother was the foremost practitioner of their magik, and only a select few were ever able to learn from her directly. With her sisters gone…the list narrowed down quickly.
At first, she had questioned whether or not she was worthy of taking up such a mantle, not to mention overcoming the grief of being the only nightsister to survive. Many times she had asked herself why she had been spared, and even considered sparing herself a life of singularity…but she found her purpose in the memory of her coven. This planet had been theirs, and she made it her duty to keep it that way.
Some had come, seeking to plunder her home, and she had sent them away, sometimes permanently…and then Cal Kestis walked the surface. Her immediate reaction was to force him out, perhaps even kill him, but she was…glad she had chosen a 'wait and see' approach. Cal was a liability here…certainly an attraction for enemies, but her time with him had proven worthwhile, and his tenacity to make up for what he had brought to her world was admirable.
He did look at her in an odd fashion from time to time…
Merrin couldn't place why he would suddenly fall into bouts of anxiety during their conversations, and she had chalked it up to be a human thing. Men were strange anyhow, as the nightbrothers always adopted submissive behaviors around her, which, as she determined, was a part of the order of things on Dathomir, even if she was only around 17 galactic years old.
But Cal wasn't submissive. She deducted that he had been vying for her favor, perhaps for something sinister, but that was becoming less likely the more she watched him. He was noble and kind, never once insulting her despite the way she had come after him…and now he was preparing to face the invaders of her home.
If these were the Jedi, then she had mistaken them.
The nightsister let herself manifest atop a cliff ledge appearing on one knee as she watched the hulking "inquisitor" that Cal had referred to lead armored men behind them. She had already watched a few men either melted by spider acid or swiped up by a nydak, but the large one had proven adept at staving off predators…and they obviously had no care for the lives of those with them.
They stunk of invaders, and each continued step they took felt like another transgression that Merrin would have them answer for. She had no idea what Cal had planned, but she was going to do what needed to be done.
Teleport was not truthfully a correct term for what she could do. A nightsister of her level of skill with magik merely disappeared from view, allowing themselves to walk along a cosmic plane above the current dimension. The echoing of their voice was a byproduct of this occurrence, projecting themselves twice. Her own understanding of it wasn't absolute, but she had learned enough to manage and harness it.
Once the inquisitor passed through a ruined building, Merrin allowed herself to appear atop an overlook, in plain view of them all. The armored men raised their blasters at the sight of her, and the fools who fired found their beams deflected by a green bubble of energy Merrin had already conjured, and new holes in their head.
"Well, well, well," the inquisitor sneered, to which Merrin deducted was female and a race she had never before seen. "What's this?"
Merrin's expression was fierce, and plenty enough to strike fear with just her gaze. "You trespass on my world, inquisitor," she growled.
The inquisitor began to giggle maniacally. "A nightsister? Not what we came for…but certainly not worth ignoring," she raised her hand and her troopers raised their blasters. "Let's see how good you really are, sweetheart."
Merrin sensed their hostile intent, and with a mere wave of her hand, two troopers twisted and died, their necks and bones snapped in an instant. Such crude and unprotected creatures stood no chance against her magik, but the inquisitor blazed with a dark cloud in the Force, too thick for her to see through. The screams of their companions did plenty to stall the other troopers, but the inquisitor drew her massive hilt, igniting a red beam in a snap.
That was when the blasterfire advanced upon her in a wave of red, and while her shield protected her for the most part, the intense strain shattered it in time, and one bolt grazed her shoulder. The burn was excruciating, unlike really anything she had felt before, and she fell to one knee conjuring a green mist to conceal her movements.
Then another lightsaber joined the fray.
"Get away from her!" she heard Cal yell as blades clashed, and when Merrin finally walked off the pain, she emerged from the mist to see him surrounded, his blade locked with the inquisitor's.
"There he is!" the Ninth Sister greeted her quarry with a smirk. "Was wondering how long it'd take you to be a Jedi."
"I'm learning," Cal retorted and flipped over the dowutin, force pushing two troopers off the edge before locking blades once again with the heavy-hitting inquisitor.
"I don't know what had Second Sister thinking you were so important," she growled, pushing Cal back with her immense strength. "She liked her souvenirs…"
Cal grunted as he pushed off her blade, parrying her counterattack before falling into another lock. "Liked?"
She grinned. "Yeah, liked. She screwed up so bad on Zakuul they kicked her out! Such a pity…but to not be able to catch a worthless little scrap rat like you, I don't blame the man upstairs for it."
Stormtroopers raised their blasters to fire upon Cal, but Merrin attacked again, her teeth grit from fighting off her wound, eventually clearing the field of all excess distractions.
Ninth Sister grumbled, shoving Cal's blade hard enough to plant him on his rear. "Looks like your nightsister girlfriend is here to save your ass," she spat. "Still won't be enough."
"I'd think again, parasite," Merrin retorted, reaching out and binding the inquisitor together. The act gave Cal enough time to rise back to his feet and swing, but the Ninth Sister broke free with eventual ease and protected herself, allowing the two saber combatants to truly engage each other.
"Fight your own battles, asshole!" Ninth Sister yelled, overpowering Cal yet again, as he still did not adopt a saber form useful for countering those stronger than he. Merrin wanted to help, but her energy was wavering, expelling much of it in dealing with the other stormtroopers.
The strain mounted as Cal's back folded, but in a moment of clarity, he broke off the lock and slid underneath the inquisitor's legs, landing a cross slash across her back that made her stagger. Ninth Sister growled in pain, but when Cal tried to continue, she pushed him back with a powerful force push.
Cal picked himself up, and the dowutin grunted again, shaking off the hit. "Not bad for trash!"
"What about for a Jedi?"
Ninth Sister cocked her head, igniting both blades of her spinning hilt. "Is there a difference?"
Merrin watched the two of them pace each other, Cal reading the Ninth Sister's movements while the dowutin tensed, her rage building as the pain of her wound persisted. She wasn't sure if Cal could sense it, but the inquisitor's strength was increasing the more pain she felt, and with the sting of her own shoulder-graze wound, the nightsister was perplexed by this. To use pain to her advantage…could be a powerful tool to restore her strength, instead of letting it fleet away.
Ninth Sister charged with her shoulder forward, and her momentum was far too much for Cal to possibly hold off. Rolling aside to avoid the hit, Cal tried to slash at her back, only to watch her block the attack with her saber pulled behind, and then bat him away with a powerful backhand. Merrin watched Cal spin through the air and land in a heap, holding his jaw in pain while BD-1 lost his grip on his back. The dowutin had no hesitation, raising her blade and slashing down, Cal barely stopping it from killing him.
Merrin watched him struggle, his blue blade slowly falling upon him as the stronger duelist pushed downwards. Cal couldn't hold her off forever, and with his position, there was little he could do to retaliate.
Meaning she was about to watch him die…this man who had no ties to Dathomir, one who had risked his life without hesitation to confront this hulking menace that threatened her home. In that moment, she saw it all again…those green and blue blades tearing her loved ones apart, some being shot dead and left for the insects to consume. Those who had come to her world had no respect for the living…in fact she could not sense a single living being on that day, and now…she could only sense one before her. The other was lost, a puppet for a master she could not see, acting without any care for what she left behind.
Cal…he cared…and she couldn't watch him die…not like she watched her sisters helplessly fall around her. Now, she had power, and she'd let those who would dare harm her coven feel that power.
Shaking off her wound, she gripped the inquisitor's hand with a green spectre of energy and pulled her away from Cal. "Leave Dathomir!" she shouted, her voice doubled over and menacing. "Or die!" She unleashed a flurry of energy attacks that the Ninth Sister staved off with her spinning blade, before reaching out with her claws.
Merrin felt herself dragged from her position by an unseen hand, but she quickly recovered, placing her hands together and unleashing a beam of light that burned the inquisitor's armor, blinding her enough to free the nightsister from her grip. Merrin landed on both feet, clenching her fist. "Get up, Cal Kestis!" she commanded, and the Jedi quickly obeyed, letting BD-1 clamber back atop him and toss him a healing stim. "You're not dead yet."
Cal nodded in thanks and shored up his position. If he was going to win this duel, he would need to adjust his strategy. Brute force wasn't going to cut it, or he'd need Merrin to bail him out again, and the Ninth Sister was learning.
Tried and true with Form III Soresu, Cal's defense had kept him alive thus far, but he needed quick counterattacks…or simply be nimbler in his movements. He had seen Trilla faze around him, almost out of sight, and while he couldn't emulate that kind of speed to this point, copying it may be what saves his life. Her mastery of Makashi was greater than any he had yet seen, while the Ninth Sister was proving skilled with Djem So, a form Cal had experience with via his old master…just not at this intensity. Precision was going to be key in this next exchange, and Cal would need it to expose her growing animosity.
Adopting a forward stance, Cal marched forward, slipping past one massive swing with a simple movement of his body, and blocking the next with ease. When the third swing came, Cal ducked beneath and kicked her in the chest, enough to make her stagger and earn him a mark across her chest.
Except she merely shook off the pain and continued her attack, forcing Cal back into a defensive pose. Frustrated he had lost his momentum, he blocked and parried as much as he could, but the openings were becoming smaller, while her attacks became more erratic and uncontrolled. Cal found his chance, flipping around a foreseen swing and slashing her hip, this time ready for the overhead saber lock that she initiated with a pained scream. Riding it out, and letting her think she was beating him down, Cal struck, falling off the blade and spinning, letting his blue blade cleave straight through her wrist and sever her saber hand completely.
The Ninth Sister fell to one knee, grasping her forearm stub in pain, while Cal breathed. "It's over!"
She merely looked up with her one good eye, and to his shock, she slowly rose to her feet. "Being an inquisitor taught me no setback is too great. When you've already lost yourself…a limb's easy," she sneered, her expression adopting confidence Cal did not find well-founded. "You know, I was a Jedi."
Cal grimaced. So was Trilla.
Her frightening smile slithered down his spine as he held his blade at the ready, backing up as she stood. "It'd be fun to bring you in…and watch you crack like the rest of us!"
His danger sense ignited his back, and he deflected her floating blade as she called it back into her remaining hand, holding it before him. Cal growled in annoyance at her persistence, as he felt her own rage transfer to him.
"Oh, it angers you, doesn't it?" she growled, and then attacked. "Just wait until the isolation, torture, mutilation, and your friends!"
Cal held off her intense power even with only one of her hands, feeling his rage burst at the mere mention of her harming Cere or Greez. "I won't let you touch them!" he declared, batting another attack away.
The Ninth Sister was then held down by a green energy, and in a moment of instinct, Cal spun and plunged his blade into her heart, driving it through her resistive fabric with another thrust. "That was for Prauf, you bitch!" he spat, pulling his blade free.
As the dowutin flopped over and died, her smirk met his gaze, and it remained until her muscles lost their function.
He'd killed the Ninth Sister.
"Let her body rot under the red sun of Dathomir, her bones and flesh carrion for the scavengers…" Merrin said, appearing beside him.
Cal huffed, his anger slowly dissipating, and that was when he felt the weight of his actions bear down on him. After what he had experienced through Trilla's hilt on Zakuul, he had seen what these inquisitors used to be, and the suffering they endured.
And yet, he had killed her, without a second thought…and he enjoyed it.
"I…" Cal gasped, staring at his hand. "I should've have done that."
"Why not?" Merrin asked. "She was going to kill you."
"Maybe, but she could've been saved…I should've tried."
The nightsister cocked her head with an intense look. "Cal, you should know by now that you cannot save everyone…sometimes survival is all that matters."
"At what cost, Merrin?" Cal asked. "You saw her. If I bring myself down to that level, then I'm just another inquisitor."
She knew she wasn't going to get anywhere, and honestly didn't know how to change his mind…but figured something simple may be enough.
"I think you did the right thing."
Cal paused, letting his eyes finally pace up to hers. There was a longingness to his expression, and she sensed his emotional rage placate itself with justification…through merely her approval. He had…taken value in her opinion…something that often-required coercion through her magik…or brought forth by fear of her power.
But he just…took her words to heart—her own words.
"Thanks, Merrin," he said, BD watching from over his shoulder.
Doo-whoop?
Cal flushed red. "What? No!"
Merrin smirked, placing her hands on her hips. "What did he say?"
"Ah, nothing," Cal waved off, trying to keep his eyes off her. "We'd, uh…better go get that Astrum before the Empire sends more troops," he suggested, walking past her, back up the path towards the Tomb of Kujet.
As she watched him go, her smirk widened across her face.
She knew what was going on.
Vandor, 14 BBY
The Lodge
"If my ship gets boosted, it's your ass."
Xur scoffed from Trilla's comment as they walked beside each other, ascending a long flight of stairs cut out of a rock face. "Relax. Rava is plenty smart enough to look after the Fury while we're gone."
Trilla's teeth chattered from the cold, her body not acclimated after leaving the cozy environment of her ship. She had never been to Vandor, as its population was that of a frontier colony, and already she could see the vermin that manifested. The rock face stairs ascended to a mahogany-colored structure looking out over the edge of the cliff, and the fires and lights stuck out as the evening set in.
To not stick out, despite Xur's assurance that it wouldn't matter, they had both donned fur coats to conceal their weapons. She had merely taken one of the multiple inquisitor hilts the Emperor had supplied for her, even if it felt unreflective of her current state. A weapon was a weapon, after all. On the other hand, she had at least adjusted her makeup style, losing a lot of the heavy eye shadow she used to apply in favor of something that didn't make her stand out as much. It was a nice adjustment…even with how small it may be.
"Now listen, I know it might be hard, but please try not to cause any trouble," Xur asked as they approached the main doors.
Trilla rolled her eyes. "Trust me, I'm not going to lose my cool in a bar full of gamblers and time wasters."
"Just follow my lead. We just need to find our guy. He's a popular face here, so it shouldn't be hard."
She smirked. Finding people was her specialty.
A masked alien and a few guards stopped them at the door and spoke in huttese, to which Trilla translated: "Stop there. Need an invitation."
She didn't think that Xur could speak or understand it, but he smoothly reached for his belt and displayed a card; a distinct symbol of a golden sphere she'd seen on a sabacc card. After the alien looked it over, he eventually nodded to the guards to open the doors.
"Go on in," he approved in huttese.
Trilla bowed her head, grasping Xur's hand to show they were together. "Sonpa."
They walked together through the crowds of aliens behind bars, sharing drinks and engaging in loud conversation. It had been a long time since crowds of people did not disperse for her, and if they hadn't, it usually resulted in someone lying dead on the floor, their body cleaved in half. In honesty, the lack of fear was refreshing, and with the fact that they wished to stay relatively anonymous, it was ideal.
Xur leaned in, needing to speak close to her ear for her to hear him. "I didn't know you spoke Huttese."
Trilla smirked as they squeezed through a tight space, one behind the other. "I speak many. I know almost all trade languages, minus a few dialects, along with Echani and Mando'a. Old Sith is one I dove in to, but it's difficult. There's a lot of strange uses of the words and sentence construction."
Xur popped his brow as they came side by side again. "Wow," he almost gasped. "And Binary?"
"Yes, of course," she answered, stopping beside him as they overlooked a table of card players, surrounded by an audience. She grasped his hand, creeping up beside him. "And what about my chiseled guardian? What can he muster?"
Xur looked flushed as she warmed beside him in mild condescension, running his fingers through his hair. "Uh…Basic, Mando'a…and uh…some really rusty other shit."
"Hm…" she teased, already knowing the answer. "What a shame."
"Yeah, yeah, have your little moment," he waved off as the table erupted into cheers or groans in defeat.
Trilla smiled his way, letting her head rest on his shoulder. "So who are we looking for?"
Xur flicked his chin towards the table. "See that man over there? Sitting at the back end of the table."
Her eyes keyed on an extravagant human, his clothing sophisticated yet simple; style undeniably attractive. The brightness of his smile demanded attention, and charisma…that could be determined within only a few moments of watching him.
"That's Captain Lando Calrissian," Xur answered for her. "Smuggler. Damn good at it too. He and I have run a few ops before, and he owes me a favor."
Trilla narrowed her eyes. "And here I thought you never dirtied yourself with the likes of spaceport rabble."
"Ah, well," Xur shrugged as Lando won another hand. "We do what we must to survive. He's a good guy…I think we're friends."
"Think?" Trilla scoffed, looking back his way. "Then let's test that theory and get moving."
Xur pulled back on her hand. "Now, now, you may know a thousand languages, but it's obvious you don't know shit about underworld etiquette. You want to talk to the man; you've got to play the man."
Trilla sighed in annoyance. "Or I could walk up with my blade and we'll be able to get out of here."
"I said not to cause trouble…" Xur insisted, letting his gloved hand rub her back. "Come on, hun. You've spent the last four years moving at a parsec a minute. You should take a chance to slow it down."
"Me?" she asked, confused. "Why just me?"
Xur flicked his head. "Because there's only one seat at the table there, babe, and he's seen me play before…but not you."
Trilla grimaced. She hadn't played sabacc in years, and no matter how good she used to be it at it, her confidence in her skill wasn't there. Then again, wiping that presumptuous smile off Lando's face oddly appealed to her, and if she could set her mind on that, it might be worth it.
"Alright," she sighed, stooping in for a kiss. "Wish me luck."
"Word of advice. If he's smiling, he's probably cheating," he threw in, pushing her towards the chair while he looked on from his spot.
Trilla remembered that as she walked over to the empty chair, drawing attention while the previous round ended and Lando pulled his winnings from the pot. It was somewhat unsettling to have so many eyes on her, probing as to why someone of her make would be approaching. Many of those around the table were aliens of races she had never even seen before, and it was somewhat ostracizing to be the only woman taking a seat. She sensed much confusion…all from one.
Trilla eyed the seat. "May I?" she asked.
Lando looked up, and instantly there was a broad smile across his face. "Well, what have we here?" he asked, the flirtatious demeanor jumping off his words. "That seat is all yours."
She figured as much would happen, and she was ready for it. "Such a gentleman," she returned, being sure to take her seat as confidently as possible, drawing the eyes of the other players around the table. "This place is rather short on those."
He chuckled. "I do my best," he tipped his head as the cards were dealt around the table and she pulled whatever credits she could muster for her buy in. "So what brings a creature as exquisite as you here? It can't be for the company, as you've…obviously displayed," his joke earned some laughs around the room.
"No," she shook her head, eyeing her first card, a green 10. "Just came to play."
"Ah," Lando noted. "Ever played before?"
Trilla shrugged as the second card was given to her. "Once or twice."
As everyone received their second cards, bets were placed, and Lando allowed himself a drink. "Captain Lando Calrissian," he introduced himself. She hesitated on her next answer, unsure if she should reveal herself, but knew it would be detrimental to her strategy to look vulnerable.
"Trilla," she simply said, calling the current bet.
"No family name?" he asked, cocking his head to one side.
"Save that for emergencies," she answered with a wink and smile, sensing her flirt taking hold within the man, as well as waves of jealousy from other females in the room.
He chuckled. "I like you already."
The bet came around, just leaving he, her, and a few others to show. "Maybe not so much after this," she assured, revealing her winning hand of 22, resulting in a woah of approval from the crowd.
"Very nice," Lando respected while Trilla took in the pot. "You know your way around."
"I get by," she played off, and she felt a positive nudge in the Force from Xur, who watched from the audience. As she settled back in and the next round of cards came out, Lando couldn't help but continue his inquiry.
"I've got to ask…what is it you do?"
Trilla mulled for a moment, checking her first card. "I'm a hunter."
"Hunter? Hunter of what?"
Oh, Captain…you're not the only one who's made a living off of manipulation.
She shrugged, adjusting her sitting posture such that one leg fell over the other. "Anything of value."
Lando was an expert at hiding it, but she sensed intimidation rattle him beneath his surface…bringing his questions to an end.
Once she received her next card, she leaned forward. "Can I ask you something, Captain Calrissian?"
He leaned back, twirling a trinket in his hand. "Anything, love."
Trilla smiled at his flirt. She needed to loosen his attitude and lower his guard. "I've heard you've run operations before."
Lando took another drink. "A few. Man's gotta make a living."
"As does a girl," she raised her own drink to that, which had been offered to her via a floating droid. "You must have quite the ship to outrun even Imperial blockades."
He tipped his head in confirmation. "I do."
Trilla narrowed her eyes, folding her no-good hand. "Let me guess…you won it…playing this game."
Lando looked around the table with a smirk, presenting the winning hand. "Right again, sweetheart."
"Wow," she looked on in awe. "Takes quite a man to gamble with such a thing. Not sure I'd ever have the guts."
He was falling into her gaze, but he was tough to break through, almost as tough as some of the Jedi she had encountered. "Something tells me you've got a pride and joy of your own."
Trilla tipped her own head. "That would be correct, Captain."
"She fast?"
She shrugged. "If you think a Razor-Class Interceptor is such."
There were sporadic gasps, but Lando held out. "We talking Hutt, Mandalorian?"
Trilla smiled and shook her head, looking down at her two cards. "Imperial."
That was when Lando whistled with impression, and the oooos and ahhhs came from around the room. "Now that, my dear, is impressive."
She let the next rounds ride out, making Lando chase her for questions and answers, while she did the hunting under the guise of the hunted. It was a simple tactic; one she had become very adept at. Sneaking a few looks Xur's way, he had merely offered her nods of approval, to which she took as confirmation to continue.
Eventually she felt her chance to take the victory come by a suited pure sabacc, and Lando's eyes committed to the current game.
"Alright, alright," Lando nodded. "I see that bet, and raise you," he offered, showing much of his credits, drawing a reaction from the crowd. "5000."
Trilla let her eyes dance from her cards to him, and eventually nodded. "I'll see that 5000, and raise you all of my riches," she offered, drawing even more intense reactions from the audience, pushing her entire pile to the middle.
"Oh, my dear," he shook his head. "Might want to hold on to those riches."
She winked. "I offer only to those who deserve it."
Lando graced her with that smile Xur warned her about, and she immediately probed him through the Force, feeling his intentions…but oddly enough, could sense nothing. His mind was filled with useless information, displayed over and over without meaning. Whatever he was currently thinking…she was blind to it.
"Seeing as I hold more value that what you've placed, I'll offer you this," he said, leaning forward. "If you win, you keep the pot. If I win, you tell me your last name."
Trilla mulled his offer, humming to herself. "Does it have to be…in public?"
Lando shook his head. "It can be wherever you want, love."
She chuckled. "Alright Captain, I'll take your bet."
He prompted her to reveal her cards, and she placed them on the table. "Pure sabacc," cheers erupted around the room while Lando grimaced in pain…but she knew better than to celebrate.
"You're good, Trilla, I'll admit it," he pointed. "Unfortunately for you…not quite good enough," he revealed the hand she knew he had, the Idiot's Array, sparking celebration through the area, and Trilla to only sigh in defeat.
It was then that she detected the slight noise beneath his sleeve of a mechanism at his wrist, and part of her was riled up in anger at his transgression…staved off by Xur's words to not cause trouble.
Especially since Lando definitely knew who she was.
"Your friend's a real charmer," Trilla complained over the bar, a look of distain over her face as Xur listened. "It's a shame to know when a cunt is cheating and not be able to do anything about it."
"All you lost was the security of your last name," Xur shrugged, while she took a shot of heavy booze, one that he wasn't even sure he'd be willing to drink. "No big deal."
"Oh?" she questioned, waving for another drink. "I've never been so utterly humiliated in…god I can't even remember how long. He's lucky I don't kill him."
"Could you hold off, at least?" Xur asked, rubbing her back for comfort. "For me?"
She huffed heavily with his touch, part of her growing anger quelled, and she let it go with another drink. "So what do we need him for?"
Xur shifted his stance, looking towards the bar instead of her. "We need to find someone."
Trilla was dumbfounded, enhanced by her growing intoxication. "Find someone? You have me and we travel all the way to fucking Vandor for that?"
"Trilla, relax," he eased.
"Find someone…" she repeated, calling for yet another drink. "I've pulled out more with simply my blade in a man's shoulder."
"That's not how I operate," Xur replied, his voice becoming stern.
"It'd save us a lot of time that we…" she paused in the middle of another drink, and Xur waved to the bartender to stop obliging her. "…don't fucking have while the Empire scours the galaxy for us, sending whole legions of inquisitors our way. Instead of being aware of that, we're locked up in some shithole tavern while you have me fondle a man's nards for no reason at all."
He reeled in disgust. "Trilla…"
She grimaced, pinching her nose. "Sorry…h-how much have I had?"
Xur smirked. "Four shots of Rancor's Gut…the shit that can set off radiological alarms if mixed incorrectly."
Trilla coughed in revulsion. "And you let me drink that?"
"Oh, don't you dare try to swing this on me. You took the first shot sober."
"I…I can't even…" she stumbled, eventually falling into his arms as he caught her before she hit the ground. "Woah."
Xur held her up and flagged the tender for some water. "Be careful, hun," he eased, setting her down on the barstool for her to sit.
She held her head, feeling her vision go blurry. "I'm fine…I'm fine," she insisted with slurring speech, chuckling to herself. "Wooo! Ha, ha!"
Xur smiled, holding her head steady with his hand. "Feeling better?"
"Hell yes!" she cheered, and Xur deducted the four shots had finally hit home. "Feeling…feeling…" she fell over and into his arms, incapable of supporting herself. He only smiled as he held her up, rubbing her back as the bartender handed him a cup of water for her.
"Good…I'm glad you're happy," he whispered in her ear.
She chuckled to herself, barely managing even that. "I…wi…my…J-…Jedi," she sputtered, wrapping her arms around him tightly. "I luh yuh."
He patted her back. "I love you too."
"Looks like you need a place to crash," Lando inquired from behind, and Xur turned.
"That'd be nice, yeah," he nodded.
Lando smirked, presenting the path before him. "Right this way," he offered, and the two of them shook hands. "Old friend."
Hope you guys liked that one! This one was fun, especially with Cal's duel, and with a chance to write more Xur and Trilla simply together. I've been trying to fit Lando in for a small role for some time, and I'm glad I finally found a good spot (especially in a story with so many sabacc references!).
Thanks for all the reviews regarding the last chapter! That was really important for me and somewhat emotional, and I'm really glad you all seemed to be satisfied with it. Just as a note, I actually extended the romance scene, and if you haven't seen the changes, I encourage you to check it out!
Thanks for reading! I'll be back soon for more!
