Racing engines, and the simulated noon that streamed through the
holes we'd cut in the roof of our subterranean home, woke me from my
exhausted slumber. I rubbed stupidly at my eyes and then weighed my
options. Food or shower?
My stomach had long since given up on waking me for feeding, my mouth felt cottony and my body was stale and itchy. I sat up, pushing aside the blanket someone had draped across me, and my feet flinched away from contact with the cold permacrete floor. That same courteous someone had removed my boots for me.
I heaved myself to a standing position and both my stomach and my legs immediately protested. The hollow gurgle was insistent, but the aching muscles that were barely holding me up demanded the application of lots of hot water very soon.//Shower first,// I decided.
I snatched up a fresh set of clothing from my closet and stepped around the privacy screen set up around the small section of bunks set aside for the females in the gang. Heading straight for the showers, I avoided anyone who looked the least bit cheerful. I'll tell you right now that hung-over Togorians have been favorably compared to my general disposition after an all-nighter. With that in mind, it's not terribly surprising that no one spoke to me, or in any other way delayed my shower.
After a good twenty minute long application of hot water, I began to feel vaguely human again. My legs were merely tired instead of rebellious and I no longer felt dusty, gritty, or sweaty. All in all, it was a vast improvement over my previous condition.
I toweled off and changed into the sweat pants and shirt that I had brought with me, then went looking for someone to help me comb out my long, dark hair. That was the one drawback of leaving it so long, it sort of required help to keep it moderately presentable.
Usually, I would just have had Shael do the honors, but I was still mad at him, mostly because he hadn't apologized yet, and that meant looking for someone else. The triplets would most likely smash their own swoops for me if I were to ask, but I wasn't in a good enough mood to put up with gratuitous fawning and ridiculous compliments. I'd once made the mistake of asking Reeabok to help me. Part way through I had vowed to just shave all my hair right off and wear it in a crewcut before asking her again. I didn't want to bother anyone who was eating (nothing is nastier than getting food in your hair right after you've washed it), and I certainly didn't want to ask any of the guys that had their rides half disassembled. That left mighty few people.
"Mason." With years of practice under my belt, making myself heard over the various noises in the warehouse without having to scream was easy enough, but the man didn't raise his head from where he was partially bent over Bulldog's exposed fuel injector. He had his hands in his pockets, meaning that they were clean since no one in their right mind puts dirty, greasy hands in their jacket pockets, and was obviously deep in discussion of possible modifications and their various strengths and weaknesses. That didn't help me get my waist-length hair untangled, though.
"Mason!" When he still didn't respond, I moved forward once again to close the distance. Maybe he just wasn't paying any attention. "Hey, Lord of the Dance. Mason. Coruscant to Mason Cade, please come in."
Finally, Bulldog nudged him and pointed in my direction. Mason looked up at me and I crooked a finger at him, indicating my desire for his company. //Some men are just too absorbed in the mechanics of their swoops. There are other things in life than exhaust manifolds and fuel injectors//
"Crash?" Mason asked when he got close enough for conversational tones to carry the distance.
"Would you help me comb out my hair? It's nearly impossible to do by myself and everyone else is otherwise engaged."
Mason actually bowed to me! It was really just a dignified tilt of his head, but the effect was the same. He took the comb from my hand and steered me toward the closest unoccupied table while I tried to sort out my thoughts. Now where in the galaxy, while doing 'this and that', had this man learned to bow politely to people? The smoothness of its execution and the complete lack of hesitation told me clearly that it was an instinctive gesture and not one thought up on the spot. In fact, I doubted that he even realized he'd done it. //Curiouser and curiouser. This man is going to drive me absolutely nuts before I figure him out,// I wailed silently within my own mind.
The gentle glide and tug of the comb trying to pass through my hair was terribly relaxing, so I leaned back into the chair and let my eyelids succumb to gravity. Mason worked silently and there were no jarring snags or jerks. I was warm, clean, pampered, and ... hungry.
A negligently waved hand attracted the attention of the triplets. Not my first choice, but I wasn't going to complain. I pointed at the kitchens and circled a finger to indicate a plate and all three of them promptly hurried off to get me food. The only thing that could have made it more perfect was an apology from Shael, followed by the kiss and make up portion of the fight. But from the expression on his face when he wandered by only seconds after that thought, I'd say that apologizing wasn't at the top of his list of things to do.
Three well-laden plates clattered against the tabletop and pulled my attention from my petulant man. I repressed a deep, patient sigh and smiled up at three identical grins of eagerness.
"Boys, I sure hope you are eating this with me, because otherwise you've got enough here for four of me."
"We'd be glad to help, Crash."
"We haven't eaten for at least an hour."
"Want me to peel a shi'rz fruit for you, Crash?"
There was then a small skirmish over possession of the fruit in question and I couldn't help but chuckle. Softly, from over my shoulder, Mason joined me with a quiet, throaty laugh.
"Enthusiastic, aren't they?"
"They group propose to me at least once a month and I get separate requests for marriage nearly every week." I shrugged. "It's pretty much a game by now, but they keep hoping. They're like the little boys next door."
I was finally presented with a peeled, but more or less intact shi'rz at about the time Mason laid my comb down on the table.
"All finished."
"Thank you. I could have done it myself, but it would have taken three times as long." I waved a hand at the three plates in front of me. "If you haven't eaten lunch yet, please, join us. There's more than enough."
Mason's smile wasn't Shael's but it was a decent substitute and he bobbed his head to me in thanks and dug in with the rest of us. It was very pleasant to sit there and chat and joke and tell stories while munching on good food. It's sort of what I imagine a normal family would be like. "Cade." I looked up to see Death advancing on our position from his office doorway. Death's expression was calm, almost genial, so I could guess what he wanted to speak to Mason about.
"Cade." Mason made no response, so I elbowed him in the ribs and jerked my head in Death's direction. Mason stood from the table with another of those strange, polite bows of his head, and strode to meet Roble halfway. Now, while teasing the triplets can be a lot of fun, our present conversation was not precisely what I would call absorbing. So the question was: why didn't Mason respond when Roble called him? It's not like the guy's deaf or anything.
When Mason rejoined us, he had a half smile tugging at the side of his mouth and his posture and the slight bounce to his graceful step confirmed my earlier guess. Roble must have told him he was a probationary member of the Horsemen. My thoughts snagged as I considered his easy movements and I frowned. The man wasn't exactly moving like he had spent the better part of six hours dancing last night. In fact, he had a disgusting amount of energy, and that only made me grumpier.
It wasn't fair!
I didn't go to our resident healer, nicknamed Doc for some inexplicable reason, for a painkiller for my legs. Drugs of any sort, but especially medical drugs, were hideously expensive and you just can't trust the black market stuff. So I stretched a little and then didn't use them for the rest of the day.
I let the triplets be my legs.
I don't know if anyone has the full story on the triplets. I sure don't. They're so alike that they could have been stamped out of a mold. Tall, fair of skin, hair and eye, and built along the lines of construction droids, the triplets were all too nice, too eager to please to be wanted by the cops or to have been tossed out of school. Phyl, Gil, and Bil, or just 'hey, boys' for short, had sort of drifted into the gang a couple of years after I joined and nobody had bothered to question why.
Whatever their history, the triplets were impossible to dislike and they hurried back and forth all afternoon doing my bidding. I only ran into problems when I forgot who I was dealing with and tried to send them on separate errands. Those three boys can't seem to keep anything straight if they aren't together.
I first upgraded the some of our computer hardware systems with bits and pieces I'd managed to scrounge recently. Then, I beefed up the security programs. When that was done, I started actively looking for something to keep me occupied. Being unwilling to use my legs any more than absolutely necessary limited my choices, though. Finally, I had the boys carry me over to the sound setup to see if I couldn't figure out what the kriff was wrong with the blasted thing.
While I sat and stared at the exposed guts of wiring and components, I thought about Mason and the mystery he represented. The man seemed to tell as much truth as he possibly could, but never all of it. He wanted into a gang, and it now certainly looked like he was going to get his wish. I was sponsoring him and Roble had okayed it. So long as he didn't do anything stupid, it would be no time at all before he got his jacket. I vaguely wondered what he was going to do with all the food back at his apartment. Mason danced, bowed, spoke well, rode well, healed quickly, was unfailingly polite. I was pretty sure that I had all the pieces to the puzzle, but for the life of me I could not see how they fit together or what picture they might form. I needed one good, solid clue that would tie the others together.
"Crash," a familiar voice jerked me out of my thoughts and I began to poke and prod around inside the main control box much more energetically. I didn't need to turn around to see who it was, and I had no intention of facing him until I heard what I wanted to hear. "I need to talk to you."
"Unless you're here to apologize, don't bother."
"Crash, will you just listen to me?"
I noticed right away that he didn't answer me. Would it really have been so hard to say 'I'm sorry for being an unthinking jerk' or 'I'm sorry for thinking you couldn't pull your own weight in the gang'? Since that wasn't what he was saying, though, I ignored him and went right on poking through the innards of the sound setup.
"Crash, will you at least turn and look at me?" I also ignored the note of pleading in his voice.
"Only if you're ready to apologize. If you aren't, then we have nothing more to say."
"Crash!" That was it. If he was going to start shouting at me, there was no point in taking the conversation any farther. I slammed the panel shut and stood, repressing a wince as my legs protested such treatment. Turning to look Shael in the eye, I fought to keep my voice level and my volume down.
"Grow up, Shael. Shouting should have stopped getting you your way years ago." I ducked under his attempt to grab my shoulders and stalked away across the floor and headed for my bunk. The girl's bunk area was the only place off limits to the guys, with the exception of Doc, and I needed a little space right then. Sloan caught sight of me and raised a hand to catch my attention, but I ignored him and buzzed right past. He likes to think he's the one who got us together, and he's always the first one to try and patch up our fights, but now wasn't the time.
It was hard holding back the tears until I'd made it around the privacy screen, but I managed. I curled up in a miserable ball around my pillow and let it muffle the sad, angry sobs that I couldn't hold in any more. Why couldn't he understand? I loved him, loved him desperately, but I needed to be more than just one of the gang. I needed to be useful. And he was trying to take that away from me in the name of protection.
I don't know when I'd cried myself out and fallen asleep, but Nash's furred hand on my shoulder woke me up for dinner. I nodded my thanks to her and tried to neaten myself up by braiding back my raven hair, but there wasn't much that I could do about my face without crossing the floor to the 'freshers. So I composed myself and walked out to get my food, and nobody asked why I'd been crying. No one needed to, I suspect. When you live in a single building with nearly eighty other people and only a few rooms, you learn to not see what's going on around you, or at least to not comment on what someone else would not have wanted you to see or hear.
After dinner I went right back to my bunk. I decided that my legs didn't hurt nearly as much as my pride and my heart did, so I waved the triplets away and walked the distance myself. Laying down, and turning my pillow over so that I wasn't resting my head in a sodden puddle of old tears, I pulled out my data pad and began reading one of the novels I had sliced out of the planetary library's data banks a month before.
I don't know when Nash came and found me asleep with my datapad resting against my nose. But she slipped the pad out of my hand and under my pillow where I usually kept it, and pulled my blanket over me for the second night in a row.
*******
Sleep can be a healing balm, gently washing away our cares. I read that once. I usually believe the pretty wording when the memory of it follows along on the vapor trail of other thoughts, but this time there were the crusted, salty remains of tears streaking my cheeks to remind me of the continuing fight with Shael. I could only sigh when my eyes blinked open in the morning and refused to close again in sleep.
For a short while, just laying there, staring at the bottom of Nashraak's bunk and feeling sorry for myself seemed like a better alternative than actually getting up and staring at a wall somewhere with nothing to do. We were still in lockdown and, with the exception of small, hand-picked patrols that Roble sent out to check on things, no one was going anywhere, myself included.
I got up and paced around the bunks Nash and I shared, Ishtari's, and the special double-wide, extra-long one that was Reeabok's, trying to find answers. Everything had changed two days ago. I'd actually been sent out without a dozen escort riders and I'd done the job my family needed me to do. I'd pulled a stunt no one would have thought I could or would do, unless dared. I'd met a nice guy who had me more confused than anything else in my entire life. Shael had been shot at and now we were fighting.
Oh, we'd had fights before, but not like this. Shael had never been so overprotective of me before. He'd been possessive, and jealous, and hovering, but he'd never been the chest thumping kind. Of course, my own behavior hadn't exactly been normal either. Teasing was one thing, and yelling was fairly common, but refusing to talk to him, to let him explain? I wrapped my arms around myself, then lashed out in frustration, kicking Reeabok's bunk and gaining only a stubbed toe for my efforts.
Cursing to myself, at myself, I collapsed back onto my own bed and was mad. I was mad at myself for not being able to decide what to do. I was mad at Shael for making me this way, and I was mad at Mason for ... why was I mad at Mason? I pushed the thought away with an angry shake of my head. Just one more reason to be mad.
A black-striped, dark grey tail curled down from the bunk above me and twitched about in an attention-getting manner. Nash was very courteous about not startling people. After a suitable interval, her furred expression and whiskered muzzle replaced her tail and she gazed at me through slitted yellow-green eyes. Her whiskers arched at me and she sniffed.
"Cuff your mate and then let him apologize," she said slowly in her carefully pronounced Basic. "The tension does no one any good and is not helpful to the forced confinement."
A grimace found its way to my face and I sighed. It wasn't as if I didn't know that. And Nash had an advantage in dealing with men. For her race, the feline-like Trianii, women were socially and physically superior to their men, and any man who behaved badly was cuffed by either friend, family or mate and brought back to 'proper' behavior. It would prove impossible for me to explain to my fuzzy friend just why I couldn't do that. Human men didn't respond well to things like that. Nash was right, though, I had to do something about the situation before it got any worse. And after a shower to wake me up fully, I would give it a go.
Events conspired against me and Shael getting back together immediately. A Jedi would have said that it was the will of the Force. I just call it bad timing and worse luck.
As I was walking back to my bunk from the refreshers, a tall, lean red-head strode out of Death's office. Even without the long mop of fiery red hair, there was no mistaking that purposeful stride, even when it was being used for an aimless amble, or that straight spine. Ishtari was back.
I shouted and waved at her and I could see her smile light up her face. I immediately looked around for Mason. These two just had to meet each other and there was no point in putting it off. When I spotted our newest member (probationary), he was at his bunk. He stiffened suddenly, then forcibly relaxed, turned, and walked unhurriedly toward the maintenance area. When I glanced back at Red, her gaze had unerringly landed on Mason as he moved away from her. My eyes flicked back and forth between them.
All of a sudden it all clicked.
His walk, the way he moved, his unconscious grace, his mannerisms all had caught my eye and been fitted into a pattern by my subconscious. All this time I'd been mentally comparing him to Ishtari, matching them up, though I hadn't known why. Now, I knew.
Mason was a Jedi.
The next question was now that I knew, what was I to do about it? As I watched, Ishtari shrugged it off as none of her business and accepted Trapper's invitation to join the impromptu arm wrestling competition that had started up at one of the tables. I knew Red and she would ignore anything she might know about Mason until he proved to be a potential problem.
But what was I to do?
I'd given Roble my solemn word that Mason wasn't a cop, and he wasn't. He was a Jedi. I'd instantly trusted him, right from the very beginning, and now I knew the why behind that, too. I've always respected Jedi, will until the day I die. It's hard not to feel that way when Jedi are responsible for the freeing of your entire home planet and keeping you from a life of mute slavery. I was truly torn and I didn't know which way to turn. I couldn't just tell Roble that Mason was a spy. The Horsemen wouldn't kill him, but I still couldn't do it. I didn't know, honestly, if he hadn't just left the Order, like Ishtari. But the Horsemen were my family and I owed them the truth of any possible threat.
My mind and my heart raged against each other and themselves, trying to resolve the dilemma. Family, or savior? Friends, or living legend? How was I to decide? Doing nothing was, in itself, a decision of sorts. And so I twisted back and forth, my body reflecting my thoughts, until my instincts jumped into the fray and decided the matter.
//I trust the Jedi. I'll ask him why he's here before I decide to tell Roble.//
That thought firmly in mind, I jogged the rest of the way to my bunk and grabbed up my comb. Ishtari could help me between wrestling matches and fill me in on what she'd been doing while she was gone, and I could share the latest gang gossip with her in return.
*******
"Your cousin?"
"Yeah." Ishtari wasn't nearly as gentle with the comb as Mason had been, but she got the job done and was even willing to braid the black mass back for me while she was at it. "Turns out the little scamp is just brimming over with midichlorians. Anyway, the Council tested her and granted her entrance, but she'd decided she didn't want to stay with the 'mean, stuffy people'. Her parents asked me to come talk to her. I did. She decided that she wanted to learn to do all the fun things cousin Ishtari could do and stayed after all. So, tell me about the tall, handsome man over there talking to Bulldog."
"Mason Cade," I said. I didn't bother to try and hide my expression, or keep any shading of tone from my voice. Ishtari would just sense my emotions anyway, so there was no point, and I refused to lie in any way shape or form to a Jedi, ex or otherwise. "I sorta switched to his ride during a police pursuit. He was looking for a gang and I had one that might let him in. Death's got him on probation, but I don't expect that to last long. Everybody likes him."
"Can't imagine why," Ishtari murmured in a droll tone. Knowing what I knew, I could follow her thoughts almost exactly. Jedi had ways of being persuasive, though I hadn't ever seen Mason make one of the tell-tale hand gestures that seemed necessary to 'influence' someone. "He's cute. I wonder if he's got a girlfriend?"
"Don't think so." I glanced over my shoulder as the amazonian woman tied off my braid. "Reeabok was ecstatic to find someone so tall to dance with, but he's not really her type. He shaves too often. Nash was impressed by his stamina and agility, but Nash isn't in the market for a boyfriend. I think he's fair game."
"If I didn't know better, Crash, I'd say that you had your eye on him."
"I'm his sponsor, Red. I do have my eye on him. I don't want him to screw up and ruin my perfect record," I told her.
"I've also noticed some of the looks our dearest War has been shooting at him. Crash, Shael wouldn't just happen to be a bit jealous, would he?"
I grinned slyly at her, then assumed an innocent air. "Jealous? Whatever would he have to be jealous about?" I sobered and let her see the unhappiness on my face. "We are having a few problems at the moment, but only because he's being a total barbarian."
"Ahhh," was her wise reply. "Complete with the 'me male, me protector' routine?"
"That's the one." I nodded ruefully. "It's not like he hasn't done stupider things than jumping onto the back of another ride with no warning to the driver. He's just all up in a snit because I did it without a proper safety net and spotter."
"He'll get over it or find another girl," Ishtari stated matter-of- factly.
"Thanks, Red. For the braiding and the talk."
"No prob." She shrugged. "It's part of the job description."
I smiled at her and then headed straight for Mason. It was time to get a few of my questions answered.
*******
"I need to speak with you, Mason." His head came up from a close examination of Bulldog's accelerator and the Jedi turned a curious expression my way.
"What can I do for you, Crash?"
"Come talk to me." Not waiting for him to protest that he was helping Bulldog, I grabbed ahold of his shirt and pulled. He was forced to rise and follow or sacrifice the shirt. "I'll let him come out and play some more later," I told Bulldog, as I hauled a partially worried, mildly amused Mason off to a private room.
"Just go with her, man," Bulldog advised. "The sponsor is always right."
And Mason went with me meekly enough until we entered one of the sound proofed rooms. I actually watched the shield drop into place behind his pleasant expression. When Mason let himself show that he had seen my face and combative stance, his calm smile faded.
"Have I done something wrong, Crash?"
It was just the opening I had been looking for. "Yes. You lied to me about who you are." I held up a hand to keep him silent while I continued. "Since you never once actually told me what you are, I won't accuse you of lying to me about that, too. Especially since I've found out on my own. So, do you think you could start by telling me your real name?"
Mason's mental and physical control were superb, which was no longer surprising. His expression was a mask of confusion, though the false emotion didn't reach those blue-grey eyes. "Crash, I don't know-"
"Tell you what," I interrupted his denial, "let me introduce you to Ishtari. The red-head who arrived today? I just know she'd love to meet you."
"You don't need to ..." Mason's hand came up slightly and started to move across his body. I spun away, shutting my eyes, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. My mind reeled and my thoughts took a radical swerve. His words thrust into my brain, carried there by the Force in all its strength and power. But I've never been called weak-willed, so I held fast to my knowledge of what he was and fought my thoughts until they returned to their previous pathways. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done.
"Please," I begged, turning back around. Anger had been my first reaction, anger that he'd tried to control me like that. But he was a Jedi. I couldn't hold the anger against a lifetime of tradition and awe and reverence. Ishtari and her casual, friendly ways had chipped away at the reverence part, but the awe, and the respect, and the inherited gratitude were still there in full force. "Please, I promised them. I swore up and down that you weren't a threat. You're only here because I told them to let you come. Please, tell me why you're here."
"Then you really do know that I ..."
"You're a Jedi."
"How long have you known?" he asked quietly.
"Subconsciously, I've known all along," I explained. "It took Ishtari coming back for me to realize just what I was looking at, just why I trusted you right from the very start. I'm Lorrdian."
Mason didn't suck in his breath at that revelation, but he would have if he had been anyone else. He was far too young to have participated in the liberation of my planet, but I rather doubt things of that nature are easily forgotten, by either side. I didn't see what led up to the decision, but I watched the shield disappear and all of a sudden I could read him like a book. It was time for the truth.
"Very well. My name is Qui-Gon Jinn."
"Before I tell you any more," continued Mason, or rather Qui-Gon. He stared me straight in the eye with a gravity and seriousness that I had never seen in him before. "I need your word that you won't tell anyone about any of this."
I hesitated. Again it was a choice between a Jedi or the Horsemen, and with the first such choice already made the second was not easier, but at least it was quicker. Nodding solemnly, I said nothing, only waited for him to continue.
"Very well. You have remarked on the increasing hostilities between the gangs in this sector. This has also come to the attention of many authorities. The police officers trying to infiltrate the gangs have been doing so with the intention of finding out why this escalation is taking place." Knight Jinn seated himself on the edge of the table and waved me toward a chair. Numbly, I sat, my eyes never leaving his wide open face.
"Every officer who has tried to join a gang has been discovered. Many have been killed."
A single word passed my lips as a horrified gasp. "Velocity."
"Judging by your earlier comments, that was my conclusion as well. We do not yet know how it is that she is doing this, either. It was decided that they needed someone who was not a local police officer, but could defend themselves, should the situation deteriorate."
"And that's you?" I asked quietly.
"Yes."
"Too bad you wound up in the Horsemen," I half joked. "Ishtari and I are likely the only ones in this sector who could have figured you out."
He surprised me with his next words. "Actually, this may all have been for the best."
"How's that?"
"I am not learning what I need for this investigation because I do not know the right questions to ask, or the right people to put those questions to." Qui-Gon leaned forward, his expression earnest, but still calm and collected. "Your help would be invaluable."
"My help?" I jolted up out of my chair and paced a short distance. My help. He wanted me to help him, help him stop the fighting. Stop the fighting. That meant at least visiting the other gangs, which was hideously dangerous at that point. Stop the fighting. Shael was shot at a couple of days ago. The fighting had to stop.
I looked up, meeting his steady gaze, and nodded. "I'll do it."
We were in there for almost two hours. Knight Jinn asked questions and I answered them, then I would ask and he would answer. I got to know a bit more about the concerns the authorities had over the building hostilities, and he got a whole lot more familiar with gang life and the nature of the relations between the various gangs. It all came down to money, who had it, who didn't, and who wanted it.
In our little sector the corporations had plenty of it and the gangs didn't have enough of it. Both groups wanted more of it and therein lay the problem. At least that's how I saw it.
With an area as large as a planetary sector, there were lots of companies, but only a few very large ones. The rising gang violence was playing merry havoc with shipping schedules, not to mention the extra credits being paid out for added security, or being lost when shipments were delayed or outright destroyed. Until Knight Jinn spelled it out for me I'd had no clue just how wide spread and destructive the strike-n-fades some of the gangs were staging had been. In our territory and near our borders things were a lot cooler, mostly because Death wasn't big into the retaliation scene. When you fight, your enemies aren't the only ones who get hurt. Your own people will get hurt, and so will many innocent bystanders.
And these companies, the big ones anyway, had the money to spend on lawyers and lobbyists to pressure politicians, who in turn pressure their staffs, who in turn pressure the sector chief of police, and so on down the chain until everyone is feeling the pinch to stop the street violence. That, my Jedi explained, was why the cops had been trying so hard to infiltrate the gangs lately, and why he had been brought in when they had failed so miserably to find out what was going on.
I listened carefully to the recitation of dates and numbers and estimated damages. I thought of the food shipment I had been instrumental in stealing, but shook off the guilt before it got past the twinge stage. We needed that food desperately and no one but the big company supplying the food had been hurt. The guards had been stunned, the transport taken and returned before they woke up. No one had paid for the food, I'd made up a false shipping request as well as an invoice and proof of payment, so there wasn't someone else out there waiting for that shipment who was going to go hungry because we had taken it. What did I care if a big company with more credits than compassion lost a little money on a false transfer order?
"Is something bothering you, Crash?"
My head came up and I realized that I'd missed what he'd been saying. "Uh, no. I was just thinking about something else, sir."
"Crash, please don't call me 'sir'," he requested with a soft laugh. "It makes me feel old, and I'm not even two years older than you."
"Sorry. Old habits die hard, and I'm not in a hurry to kill this one," I waved a hand in an uncertain manner. "So what do I call you, then?"
"Mason worked just fine."
Immediately, in a knee-jerk reaction, I jumped to his own defense. "But that wouldn't be the least bit proper! You're a Jedi, a Knight! I couldn't possibly-"
"You did just fine earlier when you thought I was lying to you," Qui- Gon said mildly.
Blushing furiously, I ducked my head. "I have a quick temper, and I apologize. I knew you were a Jedi then, but it hadn't really sunk in. I'm not known for my tact."
A gentle finger curled under my chin and lifted my face until our eyes met. It amazed me that his whole body as well as his expression were still so open to me. I could read his amusement and concern for my feelings as easily as an academy student could read a child's first primer. "If I needed tact or respect I would have brought an initiate or another knight with me. What I need is street smarts, guts, and familiarity with the sector and its people. What I need is you."
The warmth of his skin against mine and the soft, reassuring tone of his voice sent a pleasant little thrill down my spine. I knew then and there that I'd have to be extra careful of myself while around this Jedi. It would be entirely too easy to develop a crush on a man who held the stature of hero in my culture by simple virtue of his chosen career. As I gazed into those beautiful blue-grey eyes, I discarded the word crush and substituted love. Yes, this man had turned my life upside down and could, if I let him, send it spinning out of control.
"Well, you've got me," I managed to reply with amazing calm. "Now what?"
Mason I had to keep thinking of him as Mason or I knew I'd forget and say something stupid nodded and let his hand fall back to his side. "Velocity and her Angels?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you get me in there to take a look around? Maybe even a meeting?"
I shook my head. "Not unless you've got a death wish. Like I told you earlier, we took some territory from the Angels a couple years back. They got lazy and we moved right in," I explained with a shrug. "By the time they remembered they had it, it was already gone, and there was no point in fighting for it since it wasn't all that important anyway. But you can bet they haven't forgotten. We won't be welcome there, no matter how many people you wave your hand at."
"Very well. Is there a gang you aren't on shooting terms with where we could start?"
"Yeah." I rose to my feet. "We're pretty tight with the Wildcards. We just gotta convince Death that it's safe to let us go visit."
"Won't be a problem."
"I didn't think it would be." I grimaced as I turned toward the door. I wasn't entirely comfortable with the thought of tricking Roble, but it might be necessary. Something occurred to me as my hand touched the door handle and I glanced back over my shoulder at the tall Jedi behind me. "One last thing, though."
"Yes?"
"I hope you play sabacc."
My stomach had long since given up on waking me for feeding, my mouth felt cottony and my body was stale and itchy. I sat up, pushing aside the blanket someone had draped across me, and my feet flinched away from contact with the cold permacrete floor. That same courteous someone had removed my boots for me.
I heaved myself to a standing position and both my stomach and my legs immediately protested. The hollow gurgle was insistent, but the aching muscles that were barely holding me up demanded the application of lots of hot water very soon.//Shower first,// I decided.
I snatched up a fresh set of clothing from my closet and stepped around the privacy screen set up around the small section of bunks set aside for the females in the gang. Heading straight for the showers, I avoided anyone who looked the least bit cheerful. I'll tell you right now that hung-over Togorians have been favorably compared to my general disposition after an all-nighter. With that in mind, it's not terribly surprising that no one spoke to me, or in any other way delayed my shower.
After a good twenty minute long application of hot water, I began to feel vaguely human again. My legs were merely tired instead of rebellious and I no longer felt dusty, gritty, or sweaty. All in all, it was a vast improvement over my previous condition.
I toweled off and changed into the sweat pants and shirt that I had brought with me, then went looking for someone to help me comb out my long, dark hair. That was the one drawback of leaving it so long, it sort of required help to keep it moderately presentable.
Usually, I would just have had Shael do the honors, but I was still mad at him, mostly because he hadn't apologized yet, and that meant looking for someone else. The triplets would most likely smash their own swoops for me if I were to ask, but I wasn't in a good enough mood to put up with gratuitous fawning and ridiculous compliments. I'd once made the mistake of asking Reeabok to help me. Part way through I had vowed to just shave all my hair right off and wear it in a crewcut before asking her again. I didn't want to bother anyone who was eating (nothing is nastier than getting food in your hair right after you've washed it), and I certainly didn't want to ask any of the guys that had their rides half disassembled. That left mighty few people.
"Mason." With years of practice under my belt, making myself heard over the various noises in the warehouse without having to scream was easy enough, but the man didn't raise his head from where he was partially bent over Bulldog's exposed fuel injector. He had his hands in his pockets, meaning that they were clean since no one in their right mind puts dirty, greasy hands in their jacket pockets, and was obviously deep in discussion of possible modifications and their various strengths and weaknesses. That didn't help me get my waist-length hair untangled, though.
"Mason!" When he still didn't respond, I moved forward once again to close the distance. Maybe he just wasn't paying any attention. "Hey, Lord of the Dance. Mason. Coruscant to Mason Cade, please come in."
Finally, Bulldog nudged him and pointed in my direction. Mason looked up at me and I crooked a finger at him, indicating my desire for his company. //Some men are just too absorbed in the mechanics of their swoops. There are other things in life than exhaust manifolds and fuel injectors//
"Crash?" Mason asked when he got close enough for conversational tones to carry the distance.
"Would you help me comb out my hair? It's nearly impossible to do by myself and everyone else is otherwise engaged."
Mason actually bowed to me! It was really just a dignified tilt of his head, but the effect was the same. He took the comb from my hand and steered me toward the closest unoccupied table while I tried to sort out my thoughts. Now where in the galaxy, while doing 'this and that', had this man learned to bow politely to people? The smoothness of its execution and the complete lack of hesitation told me clearly that it was an instinctive gesture and not one thought up on the spot. In fact, I doubted that he even realized he'd done it. //Curiouser and curiouser. This man is going to drive me absolutely nuts before I figure him out,// I wailed silently within my own mind.
The gentle glide and tug of the comb trying to pass through my hair was terribly relaxing, so I leaned back into the chair and let my eyelids succumb to gravity. Mason worked silently and there were no jarring snags or jerks. I was warm, clean, pampered, and ... hungry.
A negligently waved hand attracted the attention of the triplets. Not my first choice, but I wasn't going to complain. I pointed at the kitchens and circled a finger to indicate a plate and all three of them promptly hurried off to get me food. The only thing that could have made it more perfect was an apology from Shael, followed by the kiss and make up portion of the fight. But from the expression on his face when he wandered by only seconds after that thought, I'd say that apologizing wasn't at the top of his list of things to do.
Three well-laden plates clattered against the tabletop and pulled my attention from my petulant man. I repressed a deep, patient sigh and smiled up at three identical grins of eagerness.
"Boys, I sure hope you are eating this with me, because otherwise you've got enough here for four of me."
"We'd be glad to help, Crash."
"We haven't eaten for at least an hour."
"Want me to peel a shi'rz fruit for you, Crash?"
There was then a small skirmish over possession of the fruit in question and I couldn't help but chuckle. Softly, from over my shoulder, Mason joined me with a quiet, throaty laugh.
"Enthusiastic, aren't they?"
"They group propose to me at least once a month and I get separate requests for marriage nearly every week." I shrugged. "It's pretty much a game by now, but they keep hoping. They're like the little boys next door."
I was finally presented with a peeled, but more or less intact shi'rz at about the time Mason laid my comb down on the table.
"All finished."
"Thank you. I could have done it myself, but it would have taken three times as long." I waved a hand at the three plates in front of me. "If you haven't eaten lunch yet, please, join us. There's more than enough."
Mason's smile wasn't Shael's but it was a decent substitute and he bobbed his head to me in thanks and dug in with the rest of us. It was very pleasant to sit there and chat and joke and tell stories while munching on good food. It's sort of what I imagine a normal family would be like. "Cade." I looked up to see Death advancing on our position from his office doorway. Death's expression was calm, almost genial, so I could guess what he wanted to speak to Mason about.
"Cade." Mason made no response, so I elbowed him in the ribs and jerked my head in Death's direction. Mason stood from the table with another of those strange, polite bows of his head, and strode to meet Roble halfway. Now, while teasing the triplets can be a lot of fun, our present conversation was not precisely what I would call absorbing. So the question was: why didn't Mason respond when Roble called him? It's not like the guy's deaf or anything.
When Mason rejoined us, he had a half smile tugging at the side of his mouth and his posture and the slight bounce to his graceful step confirmed my earlier guess. Roble must have told him he was a probationary member of the Horsemen. My thoughts snagged as I considered his easy movements and I frowned. The man wasn't exactly moving like he had spent the better part of six hours dancing last night. In fact, he had a disgusting amount of energy, and that only made me grumpier.
It wasn't fair!
I didn't go to our resident healer, nicknamed Doc for some inexplicable reason, for a painkiller for my legs. Drugs of any sort, but especially medical drugs, were hideously expensive and you just can't trust the black market stuff. So I stretched a little and then didn't use them for the rest of the day.
I let the triplets be my legs.
I don't know if anyone has the full story on the triplets. I sure don't. They're so alike that they could have been stamped out of a mold. Tall, fair of skin, hair and eye, and built along the lines of construction droids, the triplets were all too nice, too eager to please to be wanted by the cops or to have been tossed out of school. Phyl, Gil, and Bil, or just 'hey, boys' for short, had sort of drifted into the gang a couple of years after I joined and nobody had bothered to question why.
Whatever their history, the triplets were impossible to dislike and they hurried back and forth all afternoon doing my bidding. I only ran into problems when I forgot who I was dealing with and tried to send them on separate errands. Those three boys can't seem to keep anything straight if they aren't together.
I first upgraded the some of our computer hardware systems with bits and pieces I'd managed to scrounge recently. Then, I beefed up the security programs. When that was done, I started actively looking for something to keep me occupied. Being unwilling to use my legs any more than absolutely necessary limited my choices, though. Finally, I had the boys carry me over to the sound setup to see if I couldn't figure out what the kriff was wrong with the blasted thing.
While I sat and stared at the exposed guts of wiring and components, I thought about Mason and the mystery he represented. The man seemed to tell as much truth as he possibly could, but never all of it. He wanted into a gang, and it now certainly looked like he was going to get his wish. I was sponsoring him and Roble had okayed it. So long as he didn't do anything stupid, it would be no time at all before he got his jacket. I vaguely wondered what he was going to do with all the food back at his apartment. Mason danced, bowed, spoke well, rode well, healed quickly, was unfailingly polite. I was pretty sure that I had all the pieces to the puzzle, but for the life of me I could not see how they fit together or what picture they might form. I needed one good, solid clue that would tie the others together.
"Crash," a familiar voice jerked me out of my thoughts and I began to poke and prod around inside the main control box much more energetically. I didn't need to turn around to see who it was, and I had no intention of facing him until I heard what I wanted to hear. "I need to talk to you."
"Unless you're here to apologize, don't bother."
"Crash, will you just listen to me?"
I noticed right away that he didn't answer me. Would it really have been so hard to say 'I'm sorry for being an unthinking jerk' or 'I'm sorry for thinking you couldn't pull your own weight in the gang'? Since that wasn't what he was saying, though, I ignored him and went right on poking through the innards of the sound setup.
"Crash, will you at least turn and look at me?" I also ignored the note of pleading in his voice.
"Only if you're ready to apologize. If you aren't, then we have nothing more to say."
"Crash!" That was it. If he was going to start shouting at me, there was no point in taking the conversation any farther. I slammed the panel shut and stood, repressing a wince as my legs protested such treatment. Turning to look Shael in the eye, I fought to keep my voice level and my volume down.
"Grow up, Shael. Shouting should have stopped getting you your way years ago." I ducked under his attempt to grab my shoulders and stalked away across the floor and headed for my bunk. The girl's bunk area was the only place off limits to the guys, with the exception of Doc, and I needed a little space right then. Sloan caught sight of me and raised a hand to catch my attention, but I ignored him and buzzed right past. He likes to think he's the one who got us together, and he's always the first one to try and patch up our fights, but now wasn't the time.
It was hard holding back the tears until I'd made it around the privacy screen, but I managed. I curled up in a miserable ball around my pillow and let it muffle the sad, angry sobs that I couldn't hold in any more. Why couldn't he understand? I loved him, loved him desperately, but I needed to be more than just one of the gang. I needed to be useful. And he was trying to take that away from me in the name of protection.
I don't know when I'd cried myself out and fallen asleep, but Nash's furred hand on my shoulder woke me up for dinner. I nodded my thanks to her and tried to neaten myself up by braiding back my raven hair, but there wasn't much that I could do about my face without crossing the floor to the 'freshers. So I composed myself and walked out to get my food, and nobody asked why I'd been crying. No one needed to, I suspect. When you live in a single building with nearly eighty other people and only a few rooms, you learn to not see what's going on around you, or at least to not comment on what someone else would not have wanted you to see or hear.
After dinner I went right back to my bunk. I decided that my legs didn't hurt nearly as much as my pride and my heart did, so I waved the triplets away and walked the distance myself. Laying down, and turning my pillow over so that I wasn't resting my head in a sodden puddle of old tears, I pulled out my data pad and began reading one of the novels I had sliced out of the planetary library's data banks a month before.
I don't know when Nash came and found me asleep with my datapad resting against my nose. But she slipped the pad out of my hand and under my pillow where I usually kept it, and pulled my blanket over me for the second night in a row.
*******
Sleep can be a healing balm, gently washing away our cares. I read that once. I usually believe the pretty wording when the memory of it follows along on the vapor trail of other thoughts, but this time there were the crusted, salty remains of tears streaking my cheeks to remind me of the continuing fight with Shael. I could only sigh when my eyes blinked open in the morning and refused to close again in sleep.
For a short while, just laying there, staring at the bottom of Nashraak's bunk and feeling sorry for myself seemed like a better alternative than actually getting up and staring at a wall somewhere with nothing to do. We were still in lockdown and, with the exception of small, hand-picked patrols that Roble sent out to check on things, no one was going anywhere, myself included.
I got up and paced around the bunks Nash and I shared, Ishtari's, and the special double-wide, extra-long one that was Reeabok's, trying to find answers. Everything had changed two days ago. I'd actually been sent out without a dozen escort riders and I'd done the job my family needed me to do. I'd pulled a stunt no one would have thought I could or would do, unless dared. I'd met a nice guy who had me more confused than anything else in my entire life. Shael had been shot at and now we were fighting.
Oh, we'd had fights before, but not like this. Shael had never been so overprotective of me before. He'd been possessive, and jealous, and hovering, but he'd never been the chest thumping kind. Of course, my own behavior hadn't exactly been normal either. Teasing was one thing, and yelling was fairly common, but refusing to talk to him, to let him explain? I wrapped my arms around myself, then lashed out in frustration, kicking Reeabok's bunk and gaining only a stubbed toe for my efforts.
Cursing to myself, at myself, I collapsed back onto my own bed and was mad. I was mad at myself for not being able to decide what to do. I was mad at Shael for making me this way, and I was mad at Mason for ... why was I mad at Mason? I pushed the thought away with an angry shake of my head. Just one more reason to be mad.
A black-striped, dark grey tail curled down from the bunk above me and twitched about in an attention-getting manner. Nash was very courteous about not startling people. After a suitable interval, her furred expression and whiskered muzzle replaced her tail and she gazed at me through slitted yellow-green eyes. Her whiskers arched at me and she sniffed.
"Cuff your mate and then let him apologize," she said slowly in her carefully pronounced Basic. "The tension does no one any good and is not helpful to the forced confinement."
A grimace found its way to my face and I sighed. It wasn't as if I didn't know that. And Nash had an advantage in dealing with men. For her race, the feline-like Trianii, women were socially and physically superior to their men, and any man who behaved badly was cuffed by either friend, family or mate and brought back to 'proper' behavior. It would prove impossible for me to explain to my fuzzy friend just why I couldn't do that. Human men didn't respond well to things like that. Nash was right, though, I had to do something about the situation before it got any worse. And after a shower to wake me up fully, I would give it a go.
Events conspired against me and Shael getting back together immediately. A Jedi would have said that it was the will of the Force. I just call it bad timing and worse luck.
As I was walking back to my bunk from the refreshers, a tall, lean red-head strode out of Death's office. Even without the long mop of fiery red hair, there was no mistaking that purposeful stride, even when it was being used for an aimless amble, or that straight spine. Ishtari was back.
I shouted and waved at her and I could see her smile light up her face. I immediately looked around for Mason. These two just had to meet each other and there was no point in putting it off. When I spotted our newest member (probationary), he was at his bunk. He stiffened suddenly, then forcibly relaxed, turned, and walked unhurriedly toward the maintenance area. When I glanced back at Red, her gaze had unerringly landed on Mason as he moved away from her. My eyes flicked back and forth between them.
All of a sudden it all clicked.
His walk, the way he moved, his unconscious grace, his mannerisms all had caught my eye and been fitted into a pattern by my subconscious. All this time I'd been mentally comparing him to Ishtari, matching them up, though I hadn't known why. Now, I knew.
Mason was a Jedi.
The next question was now that I knew, what was I to do about it? As I watched, Ishtari shrugged it off as none of her business and accepted Trapper's invitation to join the impromptu arm wrestling competition that had started up at one of the tables. I knew Red and she would ignore anything she might know about Mason until he proved to be a potential problem.
But what was I to do?
I'd given Roble my solemn word that Mason wasn't a cop, and he wasn't. He was a Jedi. I'd instantly trusted him, right from the very beginning, and now I knew the why behind that, too. I've always respected Jedi, will until the day I die. It's hard not to feel that way when Jedi are responsible for the freeing of your entire home planet and keeping you from a life of mute slavery. I was truly torn and I didn't know which way to turn. I couldn't just tell Roble that Mason was a spy. The Horsemen wouldn't kill him, but I still couldn't do it. I didn't know, honestly, if he hadn't just left the Order, like Ishtari. But the Horsemen were my family and I owed them the truth of any possible threat.
My mind and my heart raged against each other and themselves, trying to resolve the dilemma. Family, or savior? Friends, or living legend? How was I to decide? Doing nothing was, in itself, a decision of sorts. And so I twisted back and forth, my body reflecting my thoughts, until my instincts jumped into the fray and decided the matter.
//I trust the Jedi. I'll ask him why he's here before I decide to tell Roble.//
That thought firmly in mind, I jogged the rest of the way to my bunk and grabbed up my comb. Ishtari could help me between wrestling matches and fill me in on what she'd been doing while she was gone, and I could share the latest gang gossip with her in return.
*******
"Your cousin?"
"Yeah." Ishtari wasn't nearly as gentle with the comb as Mason had been, but she got the job done and was even willing to braid the black mass back for me while she was at it. "Turns out the little scamp is just brimming over with midichlorians. Anyway, the Council tested her and granted her entrance, but she'd decided she didn't want to stay with the 'mean, stuffy people'. Her parents asked me to come talk to her. I did. She decided that she wanted to learn to do all the fun things cousin Ishtari could do and stayed after all. So, tell me about the tall, handsome man over there talking to Bulldog."
"Mason Cade," I said. I didn't bother to try and hide my expression, or keep any shading of tone from my voice. Ishtari would just sense my emotions anyway, so there was no point, and I refused to lie in any way shape or form to a Jedi, ex or otherwise. "I sorta switched to his ride during a police pursuit. He was looking for a gang and I had one that might let him in. Death's got him on probation, but I don't expect that to last long. Everybody likes him."
"Can't imagine why," Ishtari murmured in a droll tone. Knowing what I knew, I could follow her thoughts almost exactly. Jedi had ways of being persuasive, though I hadn't ever seen Mason make one of the tell-tale hand gestures that seemed necessary to 'influence' someone. "He's cute. I wonder if he's got a girlfriend?"
"Don't think so." I glanced over my shoulder as the amazonian woman tied off my braid. "Reeabok was ecstatic to find someone so tall to dance with, but he's not really her type. He shaves too often. Nash was impressed by his stamina and agility, but Nash isn't in the market for a boyfriend. I think he's fair game."
"If I didn't know better, Crash, I'd say that you had your eye on him."
"I'm his sponsor, Red. I do have my eye on him. I don't want him to screw up and ruin my perfect record," I told her.
"I've also noticed some of the looks our dearest War has been shooting at him. Crash, Shael wouldn't just happen to be a bit jealous, would he?"
I grinned slyly at her, then assumed an innocent air. "Jealous? Whatever would he have to be jealous about?" I sobered and let her see the unhappiness on my face. "We are having a few problems at the moment, but only because he's being a total barbarian."
"Ahhh," was her wise reply. "Complete with the 'me male, me protector' routine?"
"That's the one." I nodded ruefully. "It's not like he hasn't done stupider things than jumping onto the back of another ride with no warning to the driver. He's just all up in a snit because I did it without a proper safety net and spotter."
"He'll get over it or find another girl," Ishtari stated matter-of- factly.
"Thanks, Red. For the braiding and the talk."
"No prob." She shrugged. "It's part of the job description."
I smiled at her and then headed straight for Mason. It was time to get a few of my questions answered.
*******
"I need to speak with you, Mason." His head came up from a close examination of Bulldog's accelerator and the Jedi turned a curious expression my way.
"What can I do for you, Crash?"
"Come talk to me." Not waiting for him to protest that he was helping Bulldog, I grabbed ahold of his shirt and pulled. He was forced to rise and follow or sacrifice the shirt. "I'll let him come out and play some more later," I told Bulldog, as I hauled a partially worried, mildly amused Mason off to a private room.
"Just go with her, man," Bulldog advised. "The sponsor is always right."
And Mason went with me meekly enough until we entered one of the sound proofed rooms. I actually watched the shield drop into place behind his pleasant expression. When Mason let himself show that he had seen my face and combative stance, his calm smile faded.
"Have I done something wrong, Crash?"
It was just the opening I had been looking for. "Yes. You lied to me about who you are." I held up a hand to keep him silent while I continued. "Since you never once actually told me what you are, I won't accuse you of lying to me about that, too. Especially since I've found out on my own. So, do you think you could start by telling me your real name?"
Mason's mental and physical control were superb, which was no longer surprising. His expression was a mask of confusion, though the false emotion didn't reach those blue-grey eyes. "Crash, I don't know-"
"Tell you what," I interrupted his denial, "let me introduce you to Ishtari. The red-head who arrived today? I just know she'd love to meet you."
"You don't need to ..." Mason's hand came up slightly and started to move across his body. I spun away, shutting my eyes, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. My mind reeled and my thoughts took a radical swerve. His words thrust into my brain, carried there by the Force in all its strength and power. But I've never been called weak-willed, so I held fast to my knowledge of what he was and fought my thoughts until they returned to their previous pathways. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done.
"Please," I begged, turning back around. Anger had been my first reaction, anger that he'd tried to control me like that. But he was a Jedi. I couldn't hold the anger against a lifetime of tradition and awe and reverence. Ishtari and her casual, friendly ways had chipped away at the reverence part, but the awe, and the respect, and the inherited gratitude were still there in full force. "Please, I promised them. I swore up and down that you weren't a threat. You're only here because I told them to let you come. Please, tell me why you're here."
"Then you really do know that I ..."
"You're a Jedi."
"How long have you known?" he asked quietly.
"Subconsciously, I've known all along," I explained. "It took Ishtari coming back for me to realize just what I was looking at, just why I trusted you right from the very start. I'm Lorrdian."
Mason didn't suck in his breath at that revelation, but he would have if he had been anyone else. He was far too young to have participated in the liberation of my planet, but I rather doubt things of that nature are easily forgotten, by either side. I didn't see what led up to the decision, but I watched the shield disappear and all of a sudden I could read him like a book. It was time for the truth.
"Very well. My name is Qui-Gon Jinn."
"Before I tell you any more," continued Mason, or rather Qui-Gon. He stared me straight in the eye with a gravity and seriousness that I had never seen in him before. "I need your word that you won't tell anyone about any of this."
I hesitated. Again it was a choice between a Jedi or the Horsemen, and with the first such choice already made the second was not easier, but at least it was quicker. Nodding solemnly, I said nothing, only waited for him to continue.
"Very well. You have remarked on the increasing hostilities between the gangs in this sector. This has also come to the attention of many authorities. The police officers trying to infiltrate the gangs have been doing so with the intention of finding out why this escalation is taking place." Knight Jinn seated himself on the edge of the table and waved me toward a chair. Numbly, I sat, my eyes never leaving his wide open face.
"Every officer who has tried to join a gang has been discovered. Many have been killed."
A single word passed my lips as a horrified gasp. "Velocity."
"Judging by your earlier comments, that was my conclusion as well. We do not yet know how it is that she is doing this, either. It was decided that they needed someone who was not a local police officer, but could defend themselves, should the situation deteriorate."
"And that's you?" I asked quietly.
"Yes."
"Too bad you wound up in the Horsemen," I half joked. "Ishtari and I are likely the only ones in this sector who could have figured you out."
He surprised me with his next words. "Actually, this may all have been for the best."
"How's that?"
"I am not learning what I need for this investigation because I do not know the right questions to ask, or the right people to put those questions to." Qui-Gon leaned forward, his expression earnest, but still calm and collected. "Your help would be invaluable."
"My help?" I jolted up out of my chair and paced a short distance. My help. He wanted me to help him, help him stop the fighting. Stop the fighting. That meant at least visiting the other gangs, which was hideously dangerous at that point. Stop the fighting. Shael was shot at a couple of days ago. The fighting had to stop.
I looked up, meeting his steady gaze, and nodded. "I'll do it."
We were in there for almost two hours. Knight Jinn asked questions and I answered them, then I would ask and he would answer. I got to know a bit more about the concerns the authorities had over the building hostilities, and he got a whole lot more familiar with gang life and the nature of the relations between the various gangs. It all came down to money, who had it, who didn't, and who wanted it.
In our little sector the corporations had plenty of it and the gangs didn't have enough of it. Both groups wanted more of it and therein lay the problem. At least that's how I saw it.
With an area as large as a planetary sector, there were lots of companies, but only a few very large ones. The rising gang violence was playing merry havoc with shipping schedules, not to mention the extra credits being paid out for added security, or being lost when shipments were delayed or outright destroyed. Until Knight Jinn spelled it out for me I'd had no clue just how wide spread and destructive the strike-n-fades some of the gangs were staging had been. In our territory and near our borders things were a lot cooler, mostly because Death wasn't big into the retaliation scene. When you fight, your enemies aren't the only ones who get hurt. Your own people will get hurt, and so will many innocent bystanders.
And these companies, the big ones anyway, had the money to spend on lawyers and lobbyists to pressure politicians, who in turn pressure their staffs, who in turn pressure the sector chief of police, and so on down the chain until everyone is feeling the pinch to stop the street violence. That, my Jedi explained, was why the cops had been trying so hard to infiltrate the gangs lately, and why he had been brought in when they had failed so miserably to find out what was going on.
I listened carefully to the recitation of dates and numbers and estimated damages. I thought of the food shipment I had been instrumental in stealing, but shook off the guilt before it got past the twinge stage. We needed that food desperately and no one but the big company supplying the food had been hurt. The guards had been stunned, the transport taken and returned before they woke up. No one had paid for the food, I'd made up a false shipping request as well as an invoice and proof of payment, so there wasn't someone else out there waiting for that shipment who was going to go hungry because we had taken it. What did I care if a big company with more credits than compassion lost a little money on a false transfer order?
"Is something bothering you, Crash?"
My head came up and I realized that I'd missed what he'd been saying. "Uh, no. I was just thinking about something else, sir."
"Crash, please don't call me 'sir'," he requested with a soft laugh. "It makes me feel old, and I'm not even two years older than you."
"Sorry. Old habits die hard, and I'm not in a hurry to kill this one," I waved a hand in an uncertain manner. "So what do I call you, then?"
"Mason worked just fine."
Immediately, in a knee-jerk reaction, I jumped to his own defense. "But that wouldn't be the least bit proper! You're a Jedi, a Knight! I couldn't possibly-"
"You did just fine earlier when you thought I was lying to you," Qui- Gon said mildly.
Blushing furiously, I ducked my head. "I have a quick temper, and I apologize. I knew you were a Jedi then, but it hadn't really sunk in. I'm not known for my tact."
A gentle finger curled under my chin and lifted my face until our eyes met. It amazed me that his whole body as well as his expression were still so open to me. I could read his amusement and concern for my feelings as easily as an academy student could read a child's first primer. "If I needed tact or respect I would have brought an initiate or another knight with me. What I need is street smarts, guts, and familiarity with the sector and its people. What I need is you."
The warmth of his skin against mine and the soft, reassuring tone of his voice sent a pleasant little thrill down my spine. I knew then and there that I'd have to be extra careful of myself while around this Jedi. It would be entirely too easy to develop a crush on a man who held the stature of hero in my culture by simple virtue of his chosen career. As I gazed into those beautiful blue-grey eyes, I discarded the word crush and substituted love. Yes, this man had turned my life upside down and could, if I let him, send it spinning out of control.
"Well, you've got me," I managed to reply with amazing calm. "Now what?"
Mason I had to keep thinking of him as Mason or I knew I'd forget and say something stupid nodded and let his hand fall back to his side. "Velocity and her Angels?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you get me in there to take a look around? Maybe even a meeting?"
I shook my head. "Not unless you've got a death wish. Like I told you earlier, we took some territory from the Angels a couple years back. They got lazy and we moved right in," I explained with a shrug. "By the time they remembered they had it, it was already gone, and there was no point in fighting for it since it wasn't all that important anyway. But you can bet they haven't forgotten. We won't be welcome there, no matter how many people you wave your hand at."
"Very well. Is there a gang you aren't on shooting terms with where we could start?"
"Yeah." I rose to my feet. "We're pretty tight with the Wildcards. We just gotta convince Death that it's safe to let us go visit."
"Won't be a problem."
"I didn't think it would be." I grimaced as I turned toward the door. I wasn't entirely comfortable with the thought of tricking Roble, but it might be necessary. Something occurred to me as my hand touched the door handle and I glanced back over my shoulder at the tall Jedi behind me. "One last thing, though."
"Yes?"
"I hope you play sabacc."
