Broken Reflection

by Lady Dawson

Chapter Two: Crew Members

She had seen him somewhere before.

Solara couldn't put her finger on where exactly but something about his blue eyes seemed vaguely familiar, but she wasn't about to question it. He was shaken up as it was and so tight lipped that she doubted he would open up about any personal information even if she tried.

Besides, she reminded herself, he wouldn't be the only person on this ship that was running from something. It was almost a requirement to become a member of the Blue Siren.

Keeping her thoughts to herself as Jacen helped packed up the delivery, storing them safely in the compartments in the ship's hull just in case they ran into any "Imperial entanglements," as Alaric called it, Solara then took him down to the passenger's quarters so he could shower and change into clean clothes. The ones that he were wearing smelled like he'd been sleeping in the alleyways for days, which he very well might have, if him running from the Imperials was anything to judge by.

The captain wouldn't care about a stowaway if they were running from stormtroopers; he would care about someone stinking up the hold until it smelled like a Coruscant tavern. The one time that Marak had come back drunk, Alaric dunked his head into the toilet until he sobered up and threw him in the hold for a week, threatening to eject him into space if he ever stunk the Siren up ever again.

Needless to say, Marak never dared come home like that again. Oh, sure, he went out drinking at all hours whenever they were at port, but he waited until he could stay overnight at the local brothel and made sure to shower the second that he returned, well out of the captain's sight.

Solara showed Jacen how to work the fresher, because the ones on the passengers' quarters weren't exactly up to par (she'd been begging Marak to fix them for over a year, but he just swatted her away with "I'll get to it . . .", promptly forgetting about it not ten minutes later) before heading up to second level.

Hearing voices as soon as she reached the dining area, she was greeted with the warm smile of Seela Ven, first mate and the best shot she'd ever seen this side of the Outer Rim. Solara had seen her shoot an insect off the top of her husband's head from fifty meters away. (And that was when she was pissed at him; Seela was an even better shot when she was shooting accurately.)

"Sama, I was starting to think we left you behind."

Against the greyness of Siren's dining hall, Seela positively glowed with her blue skin, pale in normal light but against the darkness of space brightened the entire room. Her lekkus brushed against her flight suit with every step as she abandoned her game with Marak to embrace the youngest crew member.

Solara grinned. "Never. You couldn't get rid of me with a ten thousand bounty." But she sobered almost immediately. "Seela, does Alaric have any spare clothes I could borrow? I'll get him new ones," she added hurriedly, "next port, I promise."

"I think so. Let me check."

That was the best thing about Seela; she never asked any questions whenever she asked for something.

The same could not be said about Marak.

"What do you need Ric's clothes for?"

"None of your business," Solara retorted, glaring at the Zabrak. "By the way, you're about three moves away from losing."

The ship's engineer blinked at her, glancing at the game board to study it. "I'm four moves away from knocking out her last piece."

"Unless she takes out yours, which she can do it three moves." Solara grinned impishly at him, sitting backwards on the chair. "I can tell you how to five your rookie mistake—for a price, of course."

"No way, runt. I'm not cleaning the filth off Siren's underbelly again. Ain't worth it."

"Your loss," she replied, watching as he stared determinedly at the Dejarik board, trying to figure out where he was going wrong. She smiled smugly. "Give up yet?"

He scowled at her but kept his mouth shut as Seela returned with an armload of clothes belonging to her husband, passing them to her. "These should be clean," she told her, "and don't worry about replacing them. They don't fit anymore. I was going to sell them, along with some other things, when we got to Nar Shaddaa."

That was probably a good thing; Alaric was the closest on board to Jacen's size but even he was bigger than him. "Thanks," she told her gratefully, heading back the way that she came, well aware that Marak was still glancing at the board. She heard him move it and added, "Now, you're going to lose in two moves."

"Darn Kammer!" he yelled after her, grabbing a tool from his toolbox that was sitting innocently nearby and proceeding to throw it at her.

Solara just ducked underneath the tool and scampered away, laughing the entire time as Seela scolded him.

Grinning, she hurried down the corridor and jumped off the banister onto the staircase leading to the lower level. It had taken her about ten minutes to go find him some clean clothes, but Jacen was already stepping out of the 'fresher, his hair wet with a towel around his midsection.

Turning a beat red, she turned her eyes away from his chest, trying very hard not to stare as she did so, handing him the clean clothes. "Uh, these might be a little big, but they're clean," she told him.

"Thanks."

"Sure," she said, turning around so that he could have a modicum of privacy. She could feel here entire cheeks flaming when she heard the towel drop away and by the Force, there was a naked boy right behind her.

To distract herself, Solara said offhandedly, "So, uh . . . we should get to Nar Shaddaa at about 1800 hours—Captain probably won't stay for very long, he'll want to get this delivery done as fast as possibly, but I've got some friends there . . . well," she added as an afterthought, "less friends than someone who owes me a favor or two. But they could find you some work, to get you on your feet, until you find someplace better."

"I . . ." Jacen sounded apprehensive. "I don't know how safe it is, for me to stay in one place. The Empire's looking for me . . ."

"Trust me, nobody will bat an eye on Nar Shaddaa," she told him. "If Tatooine is the hive of scum and villainy, Nar Shaddaa is its scummier cousin. There's more people that have a price on their heads than all of the Outer Rim territories put together. You can't go three feet without running into a pirate or another. And the Empire hasn't touched it yet; they don't go near the Outer Rim if they can help it."

Jacen took a deep breath. "Underestimating them is a bad habit to get into."

"If you spend your life running from something, you'll just end up running away from everything."

He chuckled. "Not something like this." She heard the buckle of a belt and then he said, "Okay, I'm dressed."

And he cleaned up well, she noticed when she turned back. With all of the muck and grime from Coruscant's streets off and in clothes that weren't covered in filth, he was much younger than she had first thought. She had initially thought that he was a few years older than her, but now she was starting to think that he was closer to her own age of seventeen. Washing all the muck from his hair revealed a very light shade of brown that was closer to blond that hadn't seen a stylist in years.

But the clothes were a little big on him, she noticed, hiding a smile as he tried to make the shirt to fit more properly. "Here, let me help," she said, stepping forward to adjust his collar, smoothing it out neatly. "Tuck the rest of the shirt into your pants . . . there you go. Well, we can get you clothes that actually fit on Nar Shaddaa, but for now, you, sir, may just pass for a gentleman."

He laughed. "Probably the first time anyone's called me that."

"And the last, if you stick around this crew long enough," she told him, linking her arm underneath his. "Come on, we're going to have to introduce you to the captain, because if he finds out there's a stowaway on board, he won't hesitate to throw you straight out the airlock while we're still in hyperspace."

Jacen turned white.

"He won't, though," Solara hastened to tell him, alarmed at his sudden distress. She wondered just what he had been through before to make him think that the captain really would chuck him out. But seeing as he was running from Imperials, she could only imagine. "Cap doesn't care about stowaways much; he just wants to know who's on his ship and why."

"That would be preferable."

Solara jumped at the sound of Captain Alaric Durron stepped into the passengers' quarters, cool blue eyes focusing on the two standing there. The first time that she saw him, she thought she was an undercover Imperial officer because underneath the jacket typically seen on smugglers, he kept his clothes plain and neat, his shoes a shiny black. But the real truth was that after the reformation of the Republic, Alaric had taken a good hard look at the changes in the Grand Army and decided that he wasn't going to live up to their ideologies and chose to walk away, scrambling to find his next meal.

Then he took a job like everyone did and ended up smuggling on the far reaches of the galaxy, eventually putting his own crew together.

But he still had that air of command about him that made everyone around him both respect and fear him. There were times when Solara was afraid of what he might do and this was one of those times.

Still, he kept his tone calm and pleasant as he approached them and asked, "Who might this be?"

"Uh, Captain, this is Jacen," Solara introduced them, "Jacen, Captain Alaric Durron."

To his credit, Jacen immediately stepped forward, hand outstretched, but Alaric never moved from his position, mouth set in a grim look, and Jacen dropped his hand back to his side, swallowing nervously.

"Jacen what?"

Solara opened her mouth but a look from the captain silenced her at once and his gaze returned to the boy standing next to her, who looked like he was caught in a tracker beam, but he managed to hold the captain's gaze.

"Um . . . just—just Jacen."

Alaric regarded him for a long moment, not saying anything, and Jacen shot her a quick look but she shook her head, silently telling him to hold his ground.

"Why are you on my ship, Jacen?"

"I—" Jacen again looked quickly to Solara, but she pointedly looked at Alaric and he obeyed, returning his gaze to the waiting captain. "I—I'm in some trouble, sir . . . with the Empire. I—I need to get off Coruscant and . . . Solara brought me on board."

"Did she now?"

"Yes, sir. But I won't cause any trouble," Jacen said quickly, "and I will find some way to pay you back. I just needed to leave Coruscant and I—"

"You have a trade?"

Jacen's head shot up. "What?"

"A trade," he repeated. "Do you have some skill? Any good with a blaster?"

"I . . . I don't know. I've never used one."

That was surprising, Solara thought. Anyone that was anyone on Coruscant knew their way around a blaster. The only people that didn't was in the upper levels of Coruscant, senators and nobility and the like. And even some of them were pretty good shots.

"Well," Alaric said after a long minute, "you look strong enough, so we'll see if we can't find something for you to do. You stay on this ship, you pull your weight. That's the only rule I have. Where you headed?"

"Nar Shaddaa," Solara told him, deciding now was a good time to talk. Alaric gave her a look but she added, "I was going to talk to Antrot, see if he could find some work for him."

Again, Alaric regarded her before looking at Jacen again, but he just shrugged. "Well, either way, my rule stands. Come on," he added, heading back towards the steps, "we're eating in five. You can introduce him to everyone else and we'll talk about finding you something to do while you're with us."

Compared to Alaric, Jacen meeting the rest of the crew went swimmingly.

The second that they walked into the dining area, they were greeted with a string of curse words in Zabraki as Marak upset the game board by slamming his hand on it while a smiling Seela stood up to greet them.

"I wondered how long it would take Solara to introduce her new friend," she said warmly, coming over. She gave her husband a hard look, folding her arms over her chest. "You didn't give him a hard time, did you?"

"Of course not," Alaric retorted, affronted.

"Good. Because we don't want to chase off Solara's friends, do we, kaa'lia?"

Alaric sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Of course not, dear."

Solara giggled and the captain threw her a dark look over his wife's shoulders, but nevertheless, Seela patted him on the shoulder before approached the thoroughly nervous Jacen, giving him a warm smile.

"Welcome to the Blue Siren," she said. "I'm Seela."

"Uh . . . Jacen."

"Kaaless, Jacen," she said, positively beaming at him. "Why don't you have a seat? Right there," she added, indicating the seat that was next to where Solara usually sat. "If I'd known that Solara was going to have company over, I would have done something more than Rycrit stew. I hope you're hungry."

"I'm starving," Marak interrupted, looking bored with all this. "When are we eating?"

"As soon as you go wash up," Seela reminded him. Marak grumbled but nevertheless went to go wash up. "Solara, come help me with the munch-fungus bread."

"Can I help with something?" Jacen asked nervously, eyes darting to the impassive Alaric already pouring some munch-fungus ale and setting five glasses around the table. "I don't mean to impose . . ."

"Nonsense," Seela declared. "You're our guest. And we welcome our guests on this ship." She gave her husband another look, making him sigh but settle down at the table and begin talking with Jacen about what he could help with around the ship.

With them sufficiently distracted, Seela pulled Solara over to the kitchen.

"So this was the reason you needed the clothes," she observed. "Is this a friend of yours?"

"Uh . . . we just met," Solara replied, shrugging.

"Hmm . . . it's not often that you bring someone that you 'just met' onto the ship," commented Seela, her gaze moving away from Solara to Jacen and then back again. "Must have been some meeting."

"Same old story. Girl is loading up deliveries for the captain, boy runs into them, girl helps him escape from stormtroopers that tear through half the spaceport looking for him." Solara dreaded to think how far Jacen would have gotten had he not run into the crates. They might've caught up with him and put a blaster to his head right there.

She shuddered at the thought.

"And girl makes a lovely friend," Seela concluded. "Well, I hope that he sticks around. You could use someone to talk to you."

"I talk to you, I talk to Alaric . . . when he's not being an ass, I talk to Marak."

"I meant someone your own age, sama," Seela replied, moving around the counter to set the bowls onto the table as Solara finished cutting up the bread and it in the center of the table. "Here we are . . . have you ever had much-fungus bread before?"

Jacen looked bewildered. "Uh, no, I'm afraid not."

"That's all right, just be sure to dunk it into the stew first. It softens the bread up so it's easier to eat. Marak!" she called. "We aren't going to wait for you! Stew's getting cold!"

"I'm coming! Don't twitch your lekkus," Marak yelled back, already tearing back out of the crew quarters and diving for his usual seat while Solara took the place next to Jacen, talking and laughing with the crew as they always did.

But she couldn't help that notice that he never lost that nervous look and no matter how much laughter was around the table, his hand kept twitching in fear.

Author's Note: Just thought I'd add a few translations for the Twi'lek and Zabraki languages that I've inserted.

Sama=daughter (Twi'lek)

Darn Kammer=Damn you (Zabraki)

kaa'lia=love (Twi'lek)

Kaaless=hello (Twi'lek)

Anyway, hope you liked chapter two and please, give me any thoughts, ideas, theories . . . I would love to hear them! Please review!

Lady Dawson