OOO
Chapter Ten.
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The slimy stench carried by the haze of the underworld slithered through Aiden's sinuses and squeezed his throat like a sour hand as he and Barriss stepped onto the landing pad, the shuttle's side door scraping shut behind them.
Barriss pulled her hood tight over empty, violet eyes, and began walking without a word.
He grimaced, and followed behind her, biting back the questions building on his tongue. Don't piss her off anymore than you already have.
She led him to a taxi platform, walking past the taxis with sentient drivers, and opened the passenger door of an automated taxi before climbing in and scooting over until he had enough room to slide in next to her, his pants sticking to the mystery stains coating the piece of junk.
She stared at the destination input screen and frowned, lines creasing her forehead.
He looked between her and the screen. "...Barriss?"
"We have no money, I don't know this region, and we need somewhere to stay."
He rubbed his neck and glanced out the window. "Why can't we just use the transport?"
"It's Republic commissioned. It has trackers. And even if it didn't, it's too high-profile. It would draw too much attention."
I really hoped she wouldn't have good reasons. He bit his cheek before closing his eyes and breathing out, shaking his head. You got her into this mess, you're a bastard if you don't say anything. He still rubbed his neck. "I know someone..." That blasted someone he swore never to go back to.
She looked at him for the first time since the transport cockpit. "Who?"
"What level are we on?"
"Fourteen fifty-three."
His hand dropped from his neck, and he crossed his arms. "He's not too many levels away, then. Punch in level thirteen-ninety."
She typed the destination into the screen, and the taxi lifted from the platform, rotating around and descending through the fog with a deep rumble.
Aiden glared out the window, or maybe at his reflection in the window, thumping his fingers against his bicep.
If Barriss had not been watching him, she might have noticed a speeder break away from a parking dock and fall in behind them.
OOO
Sixty-three levels later, a seedy-looking cantina filled the viewscreen of the taxi—green neon in the shape of twi'lek dancers cutting the fog like writhing specters.
The taxi shuddered as they touched down, and Barriss killed the engine, staring through the glass with a slight wrinkle creasing the inky diamonds on her nose.
"I don't want to be here, either." Aiden leaned back, arms still crossed as a rodian stumbled out of the cantina, skin glistening under the glow as he slid his shoulder against the wall to stay upright.
"What is this place?"
"A bad memory." He shook his head. "Or dream." He pushed the taxi door open, and climbed out without another word.
She furrowed her brow at the back of his head, and then climbed out after him.
They passed under the glow and the surveillance cameras, Barriss tucking her saber in the small of her back under her cloak, and the murky haze gave way to throbbing bass notes pulsing through a seedy hive darker than the night outside, if possible.
Aiden huffed. If it brings in the money, why change it?
"Hey, baby," a slightly slurred call floated from the bar. "If I guess how many of those diamonds you got under there, will you give me a peek?"
Guffaws and chortles of laughter erupted around the voice, and Barriss' jaw tensed.
Aiden took a step toward them, but she grabbed his arm, shaking her head.
Another voice boomed over the guffaws. "Call to the dancers all you want, if you start harassing the female patrons, I'll throw you out on the seat of your pants."
The guffaws died down.
I forgot how much I hate this place. Aiden grit his teeth, and pulled Barriss deeper into the cantina, toward the flashing lights and obnoxious blaring of the gambling games draining marks of their credits in the section boldly labeled: 'The Chance Lounge' in equally obnoxious neon.
Barriss flicked her eyes toward him.
A round, but well dressed man stood at the head of the Lounge, dabbing the few hairs that still sprouted from his glistening scalp with a handkerchief as he surveyed the den with a faint upturn to his lips. He spotted them approaching, and his gaze settled on Aiden.
Here we go... Aiden blew out a breath.
The man's eyes widened, and he tucked the handkerchief into a pocket, walking down like a king descending from his throne to meet them.
"Aiden?!" He looked Aiden up and down like he was seeing a ghost. "Is that you? What happened to your face, kid? You look like hell."
Aiden forced a smile. "Thanks, Jax. Been awhile."
"A while? Boy, it's been years." He clapped Aiden on the shoulder. Hard. "What are you doing back down here? You get tired of fresh air?"
Aiden rubbed his tingling shoulder. "Something like that."
Jax' belly jiggled with a laugh. "Well you came to the right place to get away from it. What'll you have?"
Aiden glanced at Barriss. "Actually... We need a place to stay."
The smile fell from Jax' face. "Ah... Well... That's a bit of a problem then, isn't it?" He peered at them. "'Cause that didn't exactly sound like you'll be able to pay for it."
As classy as ever, you greasy bastard.
Barriss raised a brow at him.
Aiden waved a hand toward the gambling machines chiming around them. "No one can rig your machines like I can. You know that. The extra money you make from these suckers will be more than the price of a room." And definitely more than you deserve.
Jax ran his thumb and forefinger over his lip, but not quickly enough to hide the twitch of a smile that flashed across his face. "Hmm..." His gaze flicked over to Barriss, and he looked her up and down. "And what services does your lady friend here provide?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"A quick and violent death if you continue that line of thought," Aiden said.
Jax stared at him, and then burst out laughing, clapping him on the shoulder once more. "Man, I've missed you, kid." He jerked his head toward a hallway across the den, and beckoned them to follow. "Come on, right this way."
Barriss looked at Aiden, unreadable violet boring into him, and he lowered his head, following behind Jax as much to avoid her gaze as get to the room. This was a mistake.
Jax led them through the hallway, and stopped at one of the doors lining the wall. "Here you go, room number twelve."
Aiden buried the huff that built in his throat.
The door slid open, and Jax showed them inside, pointing out the important parts of the dimly-lit room before stepping back out into the hall. "It's late, so we'll work out the particulars of our arrangement tomorrow. Have fun, you two." He gave Aiden a conspiratorial wink, and shut the door.
Silence filled the space between them as Barriss' eyes still drilled into him, and he suddenly felt very tired. Dull pressure pounded through his skull like it was competing with the faint bass notes seeping through the walls, and he closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, dried blood scratching his palm like tiny mountain peaks. Well. Now what?
The bathroom faucet turned on and off.
He looked up, and Barriss walked toward him with a damp hand-towel dripping in her hand.
He blinked. When did she start moving for the fresher?
She gestured to the bed behind him. "Sit down."
He looked at the edge of the mattress tickling the back of his knees, and whatever energy that still clung on drained as he found himself sinking down onto the sheets without meaning to.
She gently pressed the towel to his head, and a few cold drops trailed down his face. Cool waves radiated from the cloth, washing through him like a pain-numbing breeze, and he closed his eyes and exhaled, leaning into her touch. Was I really hurting that much?
"You're lucky you don't have a concussion."
He quirked his lip against the dull pounding. "I thought Jedi didn't believe in luck."
She didn't respond, continuing to dab his forehead silently.
The smile slid from his face, and he sighed. "I'm sorry, Barriss."
She set the cloth down, and walked over to the minibar. "Take your shirt off."
"...What?"
"Your arm."
He looked down at the red-stained slash tattering his sleeve. Oh. Right. Headlight.
She pulled a bottle of whiskey from a shelf, and returned to him as he set the shirt aside. "Hold out your arm."
She poured the whiskey straight into the gash, and fire erupted in the wound, lancing through his arm like a liquid flame.
"Agh!" He flinched and clamped his molars together as pain scorched through him, hissing through gritted teeth.
Her lip twitched.
"Oh, so that makes you smile."
She placed the cap back on the bottle. "Just a little." She laid the bottle on the bed, and began examining the days-old bacta patch covering the blaster-wound on his breast, carefully working the adhesive edges away from his skin in the dim lighting.
Her violet orbs still haunted with the fresh ghost of what happened, but seemed slightly clearer as she worked on him, submerged in something she knew.
What she had been training to do as a Jedi.
A whisper of that horrible feeling from the shuttle cockpit echoed through him, and he looked away. "I'm going to make it worth it, Barriss."
"I know. I heard you."
He furrowed his brow. "What?"
"In the shuttle, after you left," she explained. "I heard you."
His brow pinched harder. "But... I didn't say it out loud. We weren't even in the same room."
"I know."
He blinked. "I thought it was just masters and stuff who could do that."
She didn't respond, but finished pulling the bacta patch from his skin.
"So... Are you some kind of prodigy or something?"
"No, I—" She sighed and wadded up the patch, grabbing the whiskey bottle from the bed. "Look, I don't know why I heard you so clearly. Can we talk about something else, please?"
She tossed the wrinkled patch into a waste bin by the nightstand, and sat in a chair against the far wall, staring down at the bottle in her hands.
He watched her run her thumb over the label, and he chewed his lip. What could he say that wouldn't piss her off? The scarred-over blaster mark on his chest itched without the bacta patch covering it, and he absently rubbed it. "...So, what were you doing in that alley, anyway?"
She looked at him. "What?"
"When I got this." He tapped the blaster scar. "And you saved me. What were you even doing down there?"
"Oh." Her gaze fell back to the glass in her hands. "Glepa oversees a lot of Black Sun smuggling. I was tracking him for the Peacekeepers."
"The Peacekeepers?"
She breathed out a sigh, and lowered her head into a hand, the bottle hanging limply from the other. "Aiden, please..."
Her whisper struck like a punch to the gut, stopping him cold. The hint of that horrible feeling wasn't just a hint anymore. Now it screamed inside him with a vengeance. How stupid could he be? Did he really think she would want to talk about the Jedi?
"You're not stupid, Aiden," she murmured. "You just need to learn when silence is the best choice."
He could take a hint.
He swallowed, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, and he stood from the bed, shuffling to the couch. He collapsed into the faded leather, and draped his uninjured arm over his eyes, exhaling quietly. Tomorrow was going to be a long, long day.
As he drifted off, all he could do was shake his head as a mental huff passed through his mind.
At least it can't get any worse than this.
OOO
The oily tendrils of midnight seeped through the windows of Palpatine's office. A night so dark it drained the light from the room like a black hole looming over the city.
Palpatine gripped the draping fabric of his Sith robes, and pulled the hood low over his face, taking his communicator in the palm of his hand.
The flickering, pale image of Dooku appeared a moment later, the dark noble kneeling before him. "What is thy bidding, my master?"
Cracked lips pulled back as he gazed down at the image of submission. "Rise, lord Tyranus."
Dooku straightened, but kept his head inclined.
"It was foolish to place faith in a mere bounty hunter. I will not make the same mistake a second time." Yellow irises glowed under the shadow of the hood. "You will find this slicer. And you will destroy him."
Dooku's gaze shot up to meet his for the first time, lips parting ever so slightly. "Surely that is not wise, my master..."
Palpatine's eyes slit. "Do not presume to inform me of what is wise, and what is not, my apprentice."
Dooku pressed his lips together tightly, and inclined his head once more. "Of course not, my master."
Fiery orbs were nevertheless cold as they gazed down at the image that now seemed quite a bit less submitted. "Great distance can provide feelings of safety, Count Dooku. I assure you, such feelings are an illusion."
Dooku's jaw shifted. "I will kill the slicer as you command. Though, it may be difficult to hide my presence on Coruscant."
"Then do not hide it."
Dooku looked up once again.
"You will locate this slicer, and you will take him from Coruscant alive. And when you do, you will let yourself be known."
The lines etching Dooku's face deepened. "But... Why?"
"I have viewed this cretin as the enemy he is. But it has been my failure to not recognize the value of such an enemy." A hard gleam cut behind his eyes. "We have gathered the nails for the Jedi Order's coffin. But perhaps the slicer will be the hammer that begins driving those nails in.
A faint smile drew the gleam. "The Jedi have already begun digging their own grave. We need only to ensure it does not go unfilled."
Dooku frowned, and spoke almost to himself. "And I am to take him alive..."
"He will live only long enough to serve his purpose, and then you will see to his long-overdue demise."
Dooku's lip twitched for but a moment. A fleeting glimpse of a smile snuffed out the same instant it appeared. "It will be done."
He bowed his head, and the kneeling image winked out, taking all the light in the room with it.
Unease descended like an unwelcome visitor, creeping through the back of Palpatine's mind with beckoning whispers too faint to discern.
His eyes narrowed, and the whispers morphed into a projection screen playing the conversation over and over again before him.
He stood alone in the darkness for a long time, his thumb and forefinger rubbing together in a circle. His lip occasionally curling in a half-sneer.
END CHAPTER