Carth hated Nar Shaddaa. The locals cheated at cards, the cantinas watered the drinks, and ship repair could drag out for days. Young officers and noncoms invariably got into trouble on shoreleave there, creating paperwork and headaches. Everyone knew that Captain Onasi would rather be towed to the Outer Rim by Mandalorians than set his ship down on Nar Shaddaa. So he was even more irritated than usual to find himself drinking cheap watery whiskey and playing pazaak in a dark cantina while his ship was repaired at the Nar Shaddaa docks.
All the cantinas on the planet were dim, and the Tam Tam was dimmer than most. The Bothan he was playing didn't know how to count cards. When his opponent finally threw down his cards and started cursing about cheating Republic scum, Carth calmly collected the credits he'd won, signaled for another drink, and looked around for another opponent. He made eye contact with the pretty green Twi'lek he'd been watching all afternoon and motioned her over.
She slid into the chair across from him. Her sheer clothing concealed very little and her oiled lekku draped sensuously over her shoulders. She produced a pazaak deck from somewhere. "I'm Tila," she purred, looking at him over her cards. "What brings a good looking Human like you into a place like this?" She wrapped her bare foot around his ankle. Carth silently dealt the hand.
The Bothan he'd cleaned out went back to his instrument and started up a hollow tune. The Twi'lek tried again. "The silent type, huh? I guess you're serious about your cards. Maybe we can talk after we play." She slid her foot between his boots and started to slide it up his leg. He moved his leg away. She frowned. "I was just trying to be nice. . ."
They played the hand and he won easily. After a few more, she picked up her cards and ran the tips of her fingers along his arm. He didn't push her away. She smiled and leaned in, her lekku nearly touching their hands. "You look lonely, soldier. Wanna get out of here?"
Carth slid a stack of credits across the table. They stuttered on the sticky surface. The Twi'lek started to reach over but he cupped his hand around the stack. She pretended to pout but he could see the calculating look in her eyes. He knew she had been watching him win at pazaak all day, and she knew that he had several times as many credits as he displayed in the stack. He leaned in so that their heads were only centimeters apart. "I need you to escort me somewhere," he said quietly.
She smiled and stroked his free hand. "I'll go anywhere you want, soldier. I know all the good places—public, private, very private. Where do you want to go?"
"Take me to the local orphanage. I'm looking for my son."
On Telos—
"Medic!" he shouted, throat already raw from the hours of smoke and fumes. He looked down at her. Her eyes were half closed, face unnaturally pale, smile missing from her blue-tinged lips. Nopleasenoplease. "Medic! I need a medic over here now!"
There was no medic coming, he knew. The gray sky was tinged orange from a thousand fires around the planet. People were wailing and running through Marne, looking for survivors, fleeing from burning buildings that no one had time to save. He'd come too late to save them.
A hand on his arm brought his attention back to his wife. Her legs were still pinned under a huge metal beam from the armory she'd been guarding. It was too heavy to lift, and he could tell as soon as he'd found her that it wouldn't matter anyway. Her curly brown hair was plastered to her forehead with dried blood. She had been trapped too long. "Carth," she whispered, grimacing at the pain.
Carth leaned down immediately, desperate to touch her, to hold her, but unsure where his shaking hands wouldn't hurt her. She smiled just a fraction and seemed to understand his confusion. She took his hand in both of hers and for the first time, Carth saw the slender length of metal piercing her stomach. "Dustil—"
Carth hoped the sick agony he felt didn't show on his face. "He's on the ship with the other evacuees. They rescued him right away."
If she had been herself, he never would have gotten away with a lie. But she wasn't herself. She relaxed back to the ground, eyes half-closing again. He shook her hands a little. "Ana! Stay with me. You have to try—"
She smiled up at him and closed her eyes. She was gone.
The cry that tore from his throat didn't even sound human. He wanted nothing more than to lie down next to her and join her in the afterlife. But instead, he pulled another stim from his pocket and jabbed it into his hip. He stood and went to the next pile of rubble. He had to find his son.
"Hey, watch where you're going!" Tila yanked the Republic officer back from a speeder barreling past. The man looked at her like he'd forgotten she was there. Tila thought he was probably handsome, but the tight lines around his eyes and the set of his lips made him look older than she thought he was.
"Where's the orphanage?" he asked. Tila noticed that his hand never strayed far from his blaster. If she was going to steal his credits, she'd have to part him from his weapon first.
"It's a ways up here, near the refugee sector," she purred, trying to loosen him up a bit. "Did you lose him in the Telos attack?"
In a flash, his blaster was pointed at her. "How did you know that?"
Wrong question, she thought. Now she'd have to get him calmed down again. "Just your accent, soldier," she replied, careful to hold her hands where he could see them. "It's my business to know my customers." She widened her eyes and blinked innocently.
He eyed her suspiciously but reholstered his weapon. He gestured for her to walk ahead of him. "I'm not paying you by the hour—let's go."
Tila wrapped her lekku around her neck to project meekness and moved along. She could lead the soldier into any one of ten Exchange hideouts and they'd part him with his credits, weapons, and consciousness faster than even he could react. But then she'd have to split the credits with the Exchange, and she didn't really want to do that. Another thousand credits and she could get off this rock and take that job her cousin was holding for her on Taris.
She slowed up and fell back into step with the officer. After his burst of paranoia, he seemed distracted again, looking off into middle space without seeming to see anything. Tila fingered the gold band wrapped around her upper arm. It concealed three sedative darts that would put even a big guy like the officer out for two hours. Plenty of time to take his money and disappear.
"Dustil's twelfth Life Day was a week before the attack," the soldier said suddenly. "I wasn't there." He turned to her and the rawness of the pain in his eyes took her by surprise. "Do you have any children?" he asked.
"Are you sure?" the medic asked her, holding a tightly wrapped bundle in his arms. The pale green tip of a tiny lekku poked through the blankets.
Tila turned her face to the wall. She closed her eyes. "Take her."
She took her hand away from her armband. "No," she whispered. "My job is no place for children."
On Telos—
"Carth. Come on, you have to stop—"
"No! If he's here, I have to find him!"
"Carth—" Jordo grabbed his arm.
Carth shoved him back hard, putting his friend on his rear. He wiped his face, coming away with sweat and soot, and staggered toward the next pile of rubble.
Jordo was in front of him again, this time with a young soldier Carth didn't know. They each took an arm and pulled him back toward a speeder. Carth struggled but couldn't get away.
Jordo leaned in close. "You've been out here for ninety-eight hours without a break. One more stim and you'll be dead, too."
"Good," Carth spat.
Jordo smacked Carth's head against the back of the speeder. "You think you're the only one who's lost someone?" he shouted, and for the first time, Carth saw the anguish in the man's face. "There's no one else here to save, Carth. The Republic needs you alive."
Carth didn't even see the syringe in Jordo's hand before everything went black.
They were approaching the orphanage. The Republic solider had retreated back into his brittle shell and had said nothing to her for half an hour. It was getting dark, and the bright lights of Nar Shaddaa began to come on around them. A Republic soldier and a Twi'lek dancer heading for the refugee sector wouldn't draw any attention—Tila knew that anyone seeing them would just assume they were going to someplace more private than the back room of a cantina. Even so, Tila kept her hand near her vibrodagger. It was a dangerous part of town, even for her.
"This is it," she announced, and the soldier stopped. The building she indicated was a dilapidated collection of scrap metal welded together. A small dark sign in Huttese indicated its purpose.
"Fine. Here's your payment." The officer held out the stack of credits he'd shown her at the Tam Tam, hand still on his blaster.
Tila made no move toward the credits. If she hit him with her dart now, she'd have to drag his body around the back of the orphanage to search him for credits. She'd be conspicuous and unlikely to avoid a fight with someone looking for trouble. It would be far better to stick him while he was inside the orphanage. "You don't speak Huttese, do you?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I know enough. Do you want your credits or not?"
Tila put a sympathetic smile on her face. "Look, I don't know anything about you—I don't even know your name. But you look like a nice guy and I'd like to help you find your son. They'll take advantage of you in there if you don't have a local with you."
"What do you know about orphanages?"
"Please, let me see my daughter. I've changed my mind."
The caretaker was a pale yellow Twi'lek. She shook her head, lekku crossed firmly across her chest. "It's too late now. She's already been adopted." She sniffed and held open the door. "A nice family, not someone like you."
Tila kept the smile plastered across her face. "I have friends who have adopted. I know how it works here. Half again as much after we leave, double the credits if your son is here."
The soldier looked at her for a long moment, then put the credits away. "It's Carth. Carth Onasi."
"Okay, Carth Onasi. Follow me." She palmed open the door, which protested with a scraping squeak, and entered the building. Its interior was better looking than the exterior. The cold metal walls were hung with brightly painted plascrete paneling and the floor was tiled. Twin doors led into the rest of the building.
A Rodian entered the room through the left door. She smiled in a kindly, superior way that set Tila's teeth on edge. "Welcome, sentients. I am Paltena. How may I help you?" Her Huttese was strongly accented but understandable.
"This man is looking for his son and I am helping him," Tila replied in Huttese. She hoped the woman didn't speak Basic.
Paltena brightened at the sight of a uniformed Republic officer but Tila didn't miss the slight narrowing of her large eyes. "We have always tried to help our friends from the Republic," she said in accented Basic. "There are several human infants here, many of whom would make you and your wife very happy. I can show you several—"
"My son is twelve," Carth cut her off. "His name is Dustil Onasi. He's just under a meter and a half tall and about thirty-five kilograms. Dark hair and eyes. He comes from Telos."
Tila jumped in, wanting to establish some usefulness before Carth decided he didn't need her help. "A transport came in last week, didn't it? Did any children arrive on it?"
"Yes, let me check in the back—" Paltena disappeared into the building. She came out only a couple of moments later, a broad smile on her face. "I have good news! Come out and see your father, Dustil," she called behind her.
Tila couldn't quite stifle her gasp. Was it possible? It would be much harder to steal the man's credits if he had his son in tow.
A scrawny human boy with disheveled hair and dark eyes came into the room. He paused to look at Paltena for only a moment before rushing over to Carth and throwing his arms around his waist. "Dad, you've found me!" he cried.
To Tila's surprise, Carth pushed the boy back toward the caretaker. "That's not him," he said flatly.
The boy started crying. "But Dad, don't you recognize me? It's Dustil! Please, take me home!"
Carth didn't so much as glance at the boy. "Don't frack with me," he snapped at Paltena. "I want to see all of the twelve year old human males. Right now."
Paltena inclined her head and ushered the boy back through the door. He continued to wail. "You told me it was my father," he cried to Paltena.
Tila found her eyes full of tears. She looked at Carth, who was standing ramrod straight with his arms crossed hard against his chest. He glanced over at her and saw her expression. "It's a common trick. As though they think I don't know what my son looks like."
"How many times have you done this?" she asked.
For just a second, Carth seemed to wilt. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I've lost count," was all he said, and then the hard expression came back to his face and he walked ahead of her into the back room.
On Telos—
"Yes, Captain?" Admiral Dodonna looked busy even in the blue haze of the hologram. An aide leaned over and whispered something in her ear. She nodded. "I'm sorry to hear of your loss, Captain. Your wife and son will not be forgotten."
Carth clenched his fists behind his back. "My son has not been confirmed dead, Admiral. But thank you for your condolences. Has it been confirmed that Saul Karath directed the attack?"
Dodonna nodded. "It's a terrible loss for the Republic. All of our security codes and all of our battle plans will have to be changed, and we are vulnerable until we do so. If only we had known it was coming—maybe we could have prevented all of this."
Carth took a breath. "Admiral, that's why I've contacted you. Before he. . .defected. . .Admiral Karath came to me and suggested I think about my future. I didn't realize what he meant at the time, but it's obvious now that he was trying to recruit me to the Sith. I should have reported the conversation immediately, and my failure to do so led directly to the attack on Telos, as well as our other losses." His fingernails were cutting into the skin of his palms.
Dodonna made a sharp motion with her hand. "No, no, no. Everything is clear in hindsight, and many people besides you had conversations with Karath before he betrayed us. No one saw this coming. I won't let you fall on you sword for this."
"I'd like to resign my commission, Admiral. I don't believe I can effectively lead my men after this."
"Request denied," Dodonna snapped. "And don't ask again. Experienced commissioned officers don't grow on trees. The Republic is more important that the revenge you're planning."
Carth was surprised. Had he been so obvious? "I'm not—"
"Save it." She looked around, then leaned forward, a small smile on her face. "But if you run into Karath while carrying out your other duties for the Republic, I'll look the other way for any unexplained broken bones."
Carth had no intention of stopping with broken bones, but he nodded and said, "Yes, Admiral." He waited to be dismissed.
Dodonna's finger hovered above the disconnect button. "I am sorry about your family, Captain. Make sure to check orphanages when you have shore leave. You may find your son there." The hologram disappeared.
Carth let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He unclenched his hands and looked at the four half-moon punctures in each palm. His hands were covered in blood.
As was typical, the orphanage got dingier the further in they went. Carth had stopped being shocked at the conditions a year after he began looking for Dustil. The key was to not think about what his son might be going through inside an orphanage like this one, or worse. If he let himself think about the slave trade, about what twelve-year-old boys might be purchased for, then he would lose what little control he had. So he didn't look around, didn't ask about the orphanage's clientele, didn't think about anything beyond the next group of children.
The green Twi'lek, Tila, was trailing behind him. Carth didn't trust her false smiles and offers to help, but it looked like her only weapon was the vibrodagger at her belt, so Carth was confident he could avoid her inevitable attempt to mug him. But he'd deal with that after he looked at the children.
The caretaker had gathered up all of the twelve year old boys and lined them up in the room. There were more than Carth had expected—almost thirty of them. They were all dirty and underfed, and a few of them looked like they'd seen the wrong end of someone's fist. They were all staring at him with the desperate hope that always felt like ice in his gut.
He looked over all of them carefully, then again just to be sure. He turned away. One of the boys started to cry before being shushed by the others. "He's not there," he said in a tight voice. No matter how many times he was disappointed, it always hurt like the first time.
The Rodian tried to make a final effort to get him to take a different boy, but he shook off her arm and walked blindly back out to the hallway. He needed to get his composure back before he tussled with Tila. He paused before reaching the outer door and fished out the credits he'd promised her.
She was looking at him with tears in her eyes. "How do you keep doing it?" she asked. "You don't even know if he's in an orphanage—there were lots of slavers after the attack—
"What does it matter to you?" he cut her off sharply. "Just take your credits and stay here for five minutes after I leave."
She started to reach for the credits and Carth thought he saw something glint in her hand. But she stopped short and stared at the ground. "I thought—I thought my daughter had been adopted. But then I saw her three years later on a holding platform for a hyperspace cruiser." She took a deep breath. "I recognized her, even though I hadn't seen her since the day she was born. It was a slave ship. She was wearing a slave collar. I tried to get to her, but I couldn't." She looked up at him, eyes completely dry. "She'd be five now, and I hope she's dead."
Carth didn't know what to say. "I have to keep looking," was all he could manage.
"Even if it's killing you? Because it plainly is."
He pushed the credits at her, wishing she would take them and leave him alone. She didn't know that he was already dead inside. "Do you want the credits or not?"
Still she didn't move toward them. "Carth," she whispered, "you're looking for a twelve year old boy, but Dustil would be fourteen now, wouldn't he?"
Carth stared at her dumbly while her words penetrated to his brain. He suddenly couldn't breathe and reached for the wall for support. It felt like the ground had gone out from under him. She was right. He'd been so focused, so determined not to think about anything beyond the next day, that he was looking for a boy who didn't even exist. All of the things that might have happened to Dustil, all of the thousands of places he could be, came flooding back and he suddenly realized the truth.
He blinked dazedly at the Twi'lek. She was holding some kind of dart clenched in her fist, but he didn't register what it could be. "I'm never going to find him," he whispered.
Tila looked at him for a long moment, then put the unused dart back in her armband. His brain dully registered that it had been intended for him. "Sometimes it's better not to know," she said quietly. She walked toward the door. "Good luck, Carth."
He suddenly didn't want her to leave. "Wait, your credits—" he held them out to her.
She shook her head and opened the door. "You keep them." And she was gone.
The room was silent. A shout from one of the children came through the still half-open door. Carth considered going back in and asking the caretaker to show him the fourteen year old boys. But he walked out of the orphanage and started back toward his ship.
Tila was right. It was better not to know.