Notes: This was my contest entry for KOTOR Fan Media's "Naked" Challenge. Not my best work ever, but I had fun writing something up-beat for a change.
Mira walked into the main hold of the Ebon Hawk, blowing gently on a cup of Java. Saer had fiddled with the heat setting and forgot to turn it back down again, and so the redheaded bounty hunter was left to grip the super-heated mug in her hands with a spare piece of cloth and wait for it to cool down the old-fashioned way.
Of course, for this reason she almost walked into Atton. He jumped back and muttered some rough apology, which was good or she would have dropped the liquid all over them both. She looked up and was about to give him a piece of her mind when she saw he had a kolto pack pressed to one eye. So startled by this, she almost choked on the words about to come out of her mouth.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh why don't you."
She looked around to see if anyone else was in the room, and spotted the Disciple. Mical was half-sprawled out on one couch, looking like he'd just woken up with an identical pack on the opposite side of his face and a cloth covering his nose. "I don't think she's laughing, Atton." His voice sounded nasal, and Mira suspected that his nose was bleeding.
"What the hell happened? You two look like you were jumped by thugs." She glanced around again, trying to see anything visually wrong with the room they were standing in. "The ship's not falling apart or anything, is it?"
"This hunk of junk?" Atton flopped down on another couch, managing to take up the whole thing. "It's been broken since we got it. Small wonder it's still anywhere close to space-worthy after our little escapade on Malachor V."
Mira crossed over and sat on the one Mical was recuperating on, still a bit wary for falling pieces of Ebon Hawk. "It's not like the roof is going to cave in or anything, right?" Space aggravated her enough just travelling through it—she didn't want to see what it was like minus the ship to protect her from a whole lot of nothing.
"Not as far as I know," Mical muttered, shaking his head lightly, although he stopped as soon as he started. He looked like the action made him dizzy.
"No, just the little things are quite happy to fall to pieces around us. Cargo bay door, cockpit door, refresher door…"
"A door fell on you?" She really didn't believe that.
"I wish it were that simple. You see, they open and close fine enough. Unfortunately, a little sort of central part of them just happens to be broken."
Mira raised an eyebrow, and was about to ask something else when Bao Dur limped into the room. He seemed to be fine, aside from the leg injury he'd received on Malachor V, and little bells started to go off in Mira's head. The Iridonian turned to Atton, an amused smile on his face.
"You're right—the central controller for the locking mechanisms is out."
Mira burst into a fit of laughter, nearly dropping her Java. The first moment she could, she set it on a console beside her. "You walked in on Saer!"
Mical had turned one amazing shade of red, and he pinched his nose a little tighter. Atton's cheeks tinged a slight pink as he protested, "I was not walking in on her! I didn't even know she was in there!"
"This is something, all right." She cast a glance at both men, and decided that she almost wanted to know exactly what happened. "So, what…?"
"What do you think?" Atton snapped, the slight flush in his cheeks darkening a little. "We open the door, there's a lovely naked exiled Jedi staring us in the face, so we both start gaping-"
"I was not gaping!"
"- And she whips around and punches us, before we can even do anything."
Mira just grinned at them. "So, did she punch Mical twice, or what?"
Atton's eyebrows went up, then he half-turned to look at the Disciple, who was now some miraculous shade of purple. The scoundrel snorted, leaning back in his seat. "Nope. That sucker's had a regular fountain spouting out of his nose ever since we spotted her."
"H-have not!"
Mira's shrill laughter was joined this time by Atton's rough snickering and Bao Dur's softer chuckling. Poor Mical looked like he was about to find a cliff and jump off of it, but he was spared that fate when they all quieted down.
"Better luck in the future, friend." Bao Dur was smiling as he messed up the Disciple's hair. Mical swatted his hand away, sacrificing his grip on the kolto pack to do so.
"S-shut up!" the Jedi grumbled, settling down further into his seat.
"Well, it's good that she's got that spirit back. She's been looking a little down for the past few days," Mira suggested, getting a glare from both injured men. Bao Dur stooped down to scoop Mical's Kolto pack up off the floor.
"At our expense," Atton muttered, scratching at his chin. He was in dire needing of a shave, Mira noticed. Of course, they'd just managed to get the refresher up and working that day, so he hadn't had a chance to. "And three days away from any civilisation! I've got to live with her wanting to gut me alive for three days on a damn ship!"
"She's going to be after Mical, too," Mira suggested, and Mical managed to sputter out some inaudible squeak at the thought.
Atton cast one glance at the other man. "Yeah, but he's got three minutes before she catches him, and five until she's done with him, I can guarantee that."
Mical glared at him, finally caving in to the throbbing in his head and taking the kolto pack Bao Dur had been holding out for him. "What makes you think that you would last longer than I would?"
The scoundrel shrugged. "Manly charm, scoundrel's good looks… Pick a reason, I've got a bunch."
"Somehow, Atton, I seriously doubt that anything you could throw at her would stop her." Mira ventured to take a sip of her Java—scalding her tongue in the process. She hissed softly before continuing as she gently placed it back on the console. "The only head she hasn't tried to bite off lately is T3's."
"And she even seems to be ignoring him, lately," Bao Dur mused. "He can't seem to find anything to do with himself."
"The least she could do was tell us what happened. Or hell, what we're doing after we limp back into Telos."
The room seemed to gather a decent amount of quiet as soon as the words left Atton's mouth. Mira bit her lip, and wondered if they were all thinking the same thing—With no more Jedi Masters to search out, no more Sith to run around and kill, what exactly were they going to do with themselves? In the past few months she'd grown fond of the ship; maybe not just that, but some of the people on it, too. For the amount that they fought, she wasn't sure what she could do if she parted ways from the Exile—the Force was still so new to her. Hell, to all of them. She didn't even know if there was a council left to receive training from.
"She hasn't said anything?" Mira finally broke the silence. "To anyone?"
"I haven't heard her say anything since we left Telos," Disciple admitted. "She's obviously greatly troubled, but she wouldn't tell me what it was when I confronted her about it."
Mira had to fight off a fit of giggles—it was so hard to take Disciple serious when his nose was plugged. She looked away, but her humour died when she caught the look on Atton's face. He seemed to be… struggling with something, momentarily, and Mira opened her mouth to ask about it. The words died on her lips as the distinct, precise thudding of Saer's boots came down the hall from the refresher.
Atton and Mical looked at each other in horror. Mical dropped his kolto pack again.
"The lock on the starboard escape pod isn't run off the main system." Bao Dur sounded like he was just talking to himself, but he had a sly smile playing on the corner of his lips. Mira wondered how he couldn't laugh at the sight of Atton and Mical scrambling to their feet simultaneously and bolting for the starboard section of the ship; she was practically rolling, it was so funny.
The sound of Saer's footfalls stopped, and Mira's laughter subsided to fits of giggles—although she'd never call them that. The Exile raised an eyebrow at the Bounty-hunter-turned-Jedi, then turned to Bao Dur and asked, "Could you check if there's something wrong with-"
"The central controller for the locks is broken. As soon as T3's finished recharging, I'll send him out there to fix it."
"Fair enough. Next question: how bad is that hull breach in the cargo bay?"
"It's still sealed off, General. The hole is small, so none of the storage could have been sucked out, but you'll have to wait until we dock to fix it. I don't have the materials to repair it here."
She paused for a moment, eyes narrowed. Wet strands of blonde hair fell across her face, and she shoved them aside. "Are there any spare stun weapons lying around? Something painful?"
"My bunk," Mira suggested. "Got some Exchange Negotiators. Those are the good ones if you want them to be in a lot of pain and live through it for another beating."
Saer smirked, and the redhead returned the gesture. "Remind me to take you out for a drink somewhere later." And with that, she turned on her heel and headed in the general direction of the women's bunk.
"She's back," Mira observed, smiling.
"Good thing, too. I was seriously considering getting Atton drunk enough to wear that dancer's outfit he's been hiding since Nar Shadda. If that didn't cheer her up, nothing would."
Mira raised an eyebrow. "Do I want to know?"
The Iridonian just smiled, turned and headed for the garage. "I think T3 should be done by now…"
The redhead blinked, picked up her Java and took a long swig—then was promptly reminded that it was too hot. Sputtering, she tried to spit it back into the cup, but it made a mess. She growled in frustration, fighting to quell her temper long enough to put the cup down slowly, and not slam it to itty-bitty pieces or shove it out the airlock like she intended. Fracking Java machine…