Chapter 4

After Shmi had been at Jabba's compound for six months, the head cook decided he was pleased with her work, and moved her to the servant's kitchen. Now she cooked a slightly higher quality of food for the paid employees of Jabba's household. A newer slave was given her old job in the slave kitchen. When she was first told of the promotion, her stomach lurched sickeningly with fear that she would no longer be able to see Kern. But she was still required to eat her own meals in the slaves' mess hall, and now she could wait in line with Kern as well, giving them a few extra precious minutes together each day.

One day, not long after the change, she joined him in line, eyes sparkling with mischief. He knew immediately that she had some secret, but she refused to tell him, gesturing around her at the press of bodies surrounding them. Only when they had retreated outside the kitchen door, and sat down by where the little plant had grown and spread into a patch of flowers blooming among the rocks, would she reveal it.

"Look." She pulled two slightly squashed balls of sweet dough from her apron pocket. "We were making these for dessert, and I managed to hide a couple. One for you and one for me." She pressed his into his hand, and bit into her own, the creamy filling tasting more wonderful than anything she could remember. She watched him take his first bite, heart glowing with satisfaction that she could give him this pleasure. He savored the little pastry slowly, eyes fixed on her.

When he had finished, he licked the last traces from his fingers and regarded her, expression grave. The smile faded from her face. "Didn't you like it?"

"It was wonderful," he assured her, his grin flashing, then gone. He reached out and took her hands, and leaned toward her. "Shmi, do you trust me?"

The intensity in his eyes frightened her. She clutched his hands, warm on hers. "With my life."

"And can I trust you?" His voice had dropped almost to a whisper.

Her heart pounded. "You know you can."

He nodded slowly, eyes never leaving hers. "With my life."

He glanced around, though no one ever disturbed them out here. Then he bent to his belt pouch. He opened it and rummaged down in the very bottom. He drew out a bundle of greasy rags, which he unfolded carefully, offering her a glimpse of a small, shiny object. Then he tucked the bundle closed and quickly secreted it back in his pouch.

She didn't understand, but she knew what she had seen must be infinitely precious, and dangerous. "What is it?"

He spoke so softly she could barely hear his reply, "It's a key to one of Jabba's speeders. I duplicated it secretly."

She looked up at him, eyes wide with wonder. "You have a plan to… escape." Her lips and tongue scarcely shaped the word.

"Yes." He studied their hands, once again clasped between them. Then he turned his eyes back to her face, and they met hers, burning. "Come with me, Shmi." His eyes dropped again, and his voice faltered. "I don't… want to go… if it means leaving you behind." Then, in a rush, "But it will be terribly dangerous, and I can't bear to think I'd be putting you in danger –"

"Hush." She silenced him with a hand on his lips. "Of course I'll come with you. I've dreamt of freedom every single day for as long as I can remember. I want it more than anything in the galaxy!"

That was true; it had always been true. So why did it feel like a lie? Or at least, not quite the whole truth… Was there something she wanted even more, now?

His lips were so soft beneath her shushing fingers. She pulled her hand away. She looked away, but her eyes were drawn inexorably back to his.

Her heart raced. She couldn't imagine daring to speak, but the word escaped almost of its own volition. "Except…"

"Except…?" His head bent close to her, eyes questioning. His arms reached hesitantly to encircle her.

"Except…" Her face tilted to meet his, and she melted into his embrace. Then his lips were on hers, soft and unbearably sweet, like cool fresh water flooding that arid place, quenching her terrible thirst. She drank him in, and the pleasure of it washed in sparkling waves through her body.

At length they drew apart, and she buried her face in his chest, soaking in the warmth of his body, marveling at how perfectly safe she felt with his arms strong around her.

His hand stroked her hair. "Oh, Shmi." His voice was ragged. "This wasn't supposed to happen. I have so little to offer you…"

She pulled back, indignant. "Do you think I care?"

He refused to back down. "I have no right to ask anything of you. A man should be able to take care of the woman he loves, to provide for her, not take from her and give nothing in return but disgrace and danger." His hands twisted the hem of his tunic. "And… I do love you, Shmi."

Time stretched and distorted, and the words hung suspended between them. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only swim in the endless depths of his eyes. But somehow her lips could shape her response. "And I love you, Kern."

She gave a little cry as she threw herself again into his arms, and he met it with a groan as he crushed her to him.

After a long time, which nevertheless felt like only the tiniest sliver of the eternity she wanted to spend there, she dragged herself out of his embrace. Though it was the hardest thing she'd ever done, she struggled to her feet and stepped away from him, smoothing her hair and rumpled clothes distractedly. "We've got to go. They'll come looking for us if we're not back at work on time."

"Yes." He climbed to his feet also, and they stood staring at each other. Finally Shmi turned and ran, blinded by her tears, back into the compound, through the kitchen and dining hall, slowing and scrubbing her sleeve across her eyes only when she had passed well beyond the corridor he must turn down to go back to the garage.

All the rest of that day she threw herself into her work, concentrating so intently on her tasks that there was no room left for thought or memory, hope or despair. But in her bed that night she could no longer hold back the flood, and she relived every moment of their brief time together, the sensation of his lips flaming anew on her mouth. Her sleep was restless, her dreams an endless succession of kisses, each more passionate and sensual than the last.