Disclaimer: I no more own Chapter the Twenty-Seventh than I owned its twenty-six predecessors.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The woman looked at Bastila quizzically. "Yes, I'm sorry, do I know you?"
Aithne bit her lip. Ouch, she thought. Bastila's eyes widened. "Mother, it's me, Bastila! Don't you recognize me?"
The woman, Bastila's mother, looked Bastila up and down coolly. "What do you expect, when I haven't so much as had a picture of you since you left?" she demanded. "I've been looking for you. Didn't you know?"
"Is that what you're doing in a dirty cantina in the middle of the night?" asked Bastila acidly. "Well, congratulations, Mother. You found me. What do you want? Where's Father?"
Bastila's mother looked down, and for a moment her regal face softened. She looked tired in the dark cantina, and strangely fragile. "Then you haven't heard. I should have known."
"Has something happened to him?" Bastila asked. "Tell me!"
Bastila's mother looked straight at her daughter. In a voice devoid of emotion, she said, "Your father is dead, Bastila. That's part of the reason I'm here, instead of at home. You've been busy enough. With some digging, I was able to trace you to Tatooine, and I figured you'd come here sooner or later. I've let a room upstairs."
"Never mind that," Bastila said, rudely and impatiently. Aithne's eyebrows rose. "Father's dead!" Bastila continued. "What happened to him? What did you do to him?"
"Bastila!" Aithne cried, shocked. Bastila's mother's face had paled, and she flinched as if from a blow.
"Isn't this a lovely reunion?" gasped the woman, directing her words at Aithne. "Already she is flinging insults at me. Tell me…you're one of the friends she was just being so loud with. Do you treat your mother this way?"
Aithne looked at Bastila. Her friend's lips were tight, her eyebrows drawn. Anger and confusion were emanating from her in waves. Aithne looked back at the woman at the table, and shook her head slightly. "Please, Mrs. Shan, leave me out of this," she said in a low voice.
The woman sniffed, and Aithne could suddenly see where Bastila had gotten that particularly annoying habit. "I'm sure Bastila feels the same way you do," she said. "She would prefer to be left completely out of it, at least until I'm as dead as her father is."
"What do you mean?" snapped Bastila.
"You don't care," retorted her mother. "If I were so sick I was dying, you wouldn't care!"
At these words, Aithne examined the woman more closely. She was a bit thin, and though paleness seemed to run in the family, Aithne noticed that Bastila's mother was nearly transparent. Her eyes were suspiciously bright. As Bastila and her mother continued to bicker, Aithne moved unobtrusively over to the bar to have a word with the owner of the cantina. She went up to the dirty, shifty looking human that seemed to have more of an air of command than the others serving.
"Sir, what do you know about the woman in the corner?" she asked.
Subtly, she edged a five credit piece over the counter. The man snatched it up and answered without a pause. "The one arguing with your friend? That's Helena Shan. Her husband died in a hunt a few weeks ago." His mouth quirked down a bit, and Aithne saw with some apprehension that this man felt sorry for Helena. "Too bad for her, really. She doesn't have a job, see, and she's running out of money for her doctor's bills."
"Doctor's bills?" Aithne asked.
"Yeah," the man said, beginning to move away. "The woman's dying. They say she won't last another three months."
Aithne felt sick as she returned to the bickering mother and daughter. Helena eyed her, noting where she'd come from, and stuck out her chin a little more, but didn't comment. Instead, she said to Bastila,
"Such sweet things you say. Perhaps I should tell you everything, first, before we start arguing again."
"You could start by telling me what you got Father into that killed him," Bastila said waspishly.
Aithne grabbed Bastila's hand, shaking her head. "Bastila," she said sharply. "Don't."
"I hadn't realized Jedi were so spiteful," Helena said. The reprimand was catty, but not without effect. Bastila looked down briefly, reminded how she should behave, but Aithne saw in the set of the girl's shoulders that now she was angry with herself, and consequently would be even more difficult. Helena continued. "You want me to tell you I brought your father here for an expedition, do you? You want to blame me for his death? You never accepted that your father loved going on his treasure hunts, leaving you alone with me. I was always to blame for everything. What else is new? So yes, fine. I brought your father here to look for krayt dragon pearls. He took an expedition into the Tatooine desert and he died."
"How can you be sure of that?" Bastila interjected. "Father is an experienced…"
Her mother cut her off. "You think I'd be telling you if I weren't sure? They were attacked by a krayt dragon and one of the guides fled the battle. He saw your father killed."
Bastila's face twisted, and Aithne saw her fight tears for a few seconds before she spoke again. "I…see…So what do you want from me? Credits?"
Helena closed her eyes momentarily, and Aithne could see she was hurt. Defensiveness radiated off the sick woman, but when she answered she spoke calmly. "Don't be insulting," she commanded. "I want you to use those senses of yours. I want you to find him. I want you to bring back his holocron."
"Why?" Bastila demanded. "So you can sell it?"
Aithne closed her eyes. She went inside her head and erected an instantaneous wall between herself and Bastila. The anger and resentment and hurt had been flooding through it, and the viciousness was bad enough just to listen to. When Aithne opened her eyes, Bastila was looking at her. She'd felt the door slam, and she looked confused and hurt.
Helena was asking Bastila, "Is it too much to ask that I have something to remember your father by? Of course it is. You couldn't be bothered."
Bastila looked away. "We're very busy on a mission from the Jedi Council," she said uneasily. "I doubt we'll have the time. Ask Aithne if you doubt me."
Helena snorted. "You had time enough to make all that racket twenty minutes ago," she objected. "Look. Just find your father's holocron, and you won't have to worry about me again."
"Predictable," Bastila sniffed. "Very well. We'll look for the holocron if we have time. I can't promise more than that."
Helena almost smiled. "I believe your father was headed north towards the Sand People Enclave. I would check along that route, dear. Do please hurry."
Bastila made a sound of disgust in her throat, turned on her heel, and made for the door.
Aithne looked at Bastila's retreating back and went up to Helena. She clasped the older woman's hand. "Look, ma'am, I'm sorry," she murmured. "I'll…I'll try to talk to her."
Helena closed her eyes, face hard, but she did not withdraw her hand. "If you can," she said in a low voice, "it'll be more than I can manage." The raw pain in her voice set Aithne's eyes to stinging.
Bastila was glaring at Aithne from the door. "Aithne," she called. "Come along."
Helena patted Aithne's hand. "Go," she whispered. "I'll be fine."
Aithne straightened and let go. She closed the distance between herself and Bastila swiftly and gripped the younger Jedi's arm. They walked quickly back to the Ebon Hawk in silence. When Bastila made for the dormitory, Aithne held her back.
"Aithne," Bastila began to protest. "It's been a long day, and…"
"And you and I need to talk anyway," Aithne hissed, keeping her voice low to avoid waking anyone. "Conference room. Now."
Bastila caught her tone. She actually paled, and then she bowed her head and obeyed without further comment. Aithne followed her to the conference room, and shut the door behind them with a swoosh. She turned. "Sit."
Bastila sat. Aithne took the seat opposite her in the great table. It gave the late-night meeting a very formal feeling. For a moment, Aithne just regarded Bastila.
"Look," she said. "I don't know what your home life was like before you left for the Order. But that was the first time you saw your mother in what? Fifteen years? More? And you do not treat her that way."
Bastila flushed. "You heard her, Aithne!" she objected.
Aithne inclined her head. "I did. And every single objectionable comment she made in that cantina was preceded by an attack of yours. You started what went down in there, Bastila."
"You don't know what she's like," Bastila argued. "And what business is it of yours how I treat my mother, anyway?"
"Jedi business, Padawan," Aithne retorted. Bastila stiffened. "You weren't following the Code back there. In your terms, or in mine. Your behavior lacked wisdom. It lacked compassion. And more basically, it lacked common courtesy and decency. And may I point out, Bastila, that you may not know what she's like either? Not now. She may have changed."
Some of the ferocity and defensiveness in Bastila's face began to fade. More gently, Aithne continued. "Bastila? You may not have known what she was like then, either. You were how old again?"
"Four," Bastila said quietly. "I was four."
Aithne thought that could stand on its own. She let the silence stretch between them. Finally, Bastila nodded. "You're right," she admitted. "I was wrong. I seem to have trouble remaining objective when it comes to her. It troubles me. In…" she stopped. Her face twisted, and she bit her lip.
Aithne stood, and walked around the table to sit beside Bastila. "Go on," she said. She had a feeling her time as bad cop was over. Bastila had always been quick to recognize her mistakes, and much to Aithne's gratification, she was beginning to be just as quick to own up to them.
"In my defense, it took me by surprise to hear that…Father's dead. That leaves such a hurt inside…you can't imagine."
Aithne sighed. "I think I can. I never knew my mother, but my father died when I was a child. I…I loved him dearly."
Bastila shot Aithne a strange look, half gratitude, and half…guilt? Her fists clenched. But after a moment, she said, "Thank you."
Aithne tentatively reopened the link between herself and Bastila. Most of Bastila's anger had ebbed. Instead, Aithne felt regret and loss, and surprisingly, a large part of Bastila's emotions at the moment were feelings of fondness and gratitude for herself and the rest of the Ebon Hawk's crew.
"That's better," Aithne said calmly. She grabbed Bastila's hand. "Hurt? Regret? Love? Those are fine. Healthy even."
She felt a thread of doubt spring to life in Bastila's head. There is no emotion...she felt the deep impressions the mantra had made in Bastila's head. Aithne shook her head.
"Does that really help, Bastila? Burying and suppressing all those emotions, in favor of emptiness? 'Cause it seems to me that it would just be kind of empty."
Bastila laughed. "Listen to us. You do realize that I was supposed to mentor you?"
Aithne chuckled, too. "Princess, you never had a chance. If it helps, I like you a lot better now than I did."
Aithne felt a flash of fear from her friend, then amusement. Bastila looked sideways at Aithne. "You know, so do I. And it frightens me."
"Your life's just gonna get tougher," Aithne said gently.
"What do you mean?" Bastila asked.
"Bas, your mother is sick. The owner of the cantina told me. From what I gather, she's been going to the doctor. With your father dead, she's running out of money to pay for her treatments…he said," she hesitated. "He said she had about three months."
Bastila looked at Aithne incredulously for a second. "Three months?" she said breathlessly.
Aithne nodded. Bastila's face drained, until she almost looked as sick as Helena. Finally, she said. "I don't…exactly know how to respond. I have never been fond of her…but she's the only mother I have."
She sat in shocked silence for a moment or two, then looked at Aithne. Her eyes burned. "We have to get my father's holocron," she said. "We must."
"That was the plan," Aithne replied. "We'll get it."
"Thank you," Bastila said again. Without another word, she rose. Aithne didn't stop her. She probably needed time to think. Aithne gave it a few seconds after she'd left, then left the conference room as well.
"You done?" Carth asked, emerging from the shadows of the cockpit. "We were all kind of worried about you two."
Aithne turned to face him. "Just another crew member crisis," she said lightly. "Go easy on Bastila the next few days. You know the drill." She shifted her weight to her back leg and put her hand on her hip. "You know, flyboy, you really oughtn't to lurk around like that. People might get the wrong idea."
"What kind of idea would that be?" Carth asked, one eyebrow raised just so. The mood changed abruptly, and a shiver raced up and down Aithne's spine as she looked up at him in the darkness of the ship. The rest of the crew- with the exception of Bastila, who Aithne could feel was far away and preoccupied- was asleep, and she and Carth were alone.
He leaned up against the door frame of the conference room, arms crossed, and his mouth quirked up as she went still. Aithne took a deep, rattling breath, and Carth smirked. "Shut up," Aithne snapped. Carth began to outright grin. "I mean it, Carth. It's not fair." She took a step back. "It's late. A lot's happened today."
She turned to go. "Don't," he said. "Don't get embarrassed and leave. It's not like it's just you."
Aithne stopped. "It isn't?" she said, without turning around.
Aithne heard him shift. Aithne felt out with her senses. She could swear she felt the heat coming off his skin, though there was at least two feet between them.
"You think I'd still be here if it was?" was his awkward reply. Aithne turned back to face him, waiting.
"Look…" he said. "It's just…strange. It's been…a while."
"Since?" Aithne asked.
"Since I cared about…anyone, really."
Aithne closed her eyes. "Don't say that," she begged.
She felt a hand on her shoulder. When she opened her eyes she was looking right into his face.
"Why?" he asked in a low voice.
Aithne sighed. "Because I'm a liar, Carth, that's why, and you caring about me, or any of us makes 'taking what I can' a lot harder," she said, crossing her arms over her body protectively. Maybe she'd had a bit too much to drink at the cantina tonight, too, to be so honest. Or maybe she was just really tired.
But if anything, Carth's focus on her intensified. "What if I'm not happy with whatever happens today, either?" he challenged.
Aithne took in a shaky breath. "You really want to go there? Fine. Then tell me what happens if you ever get your revenge on Saul." She faced him, waiting. Carth let go of her shoulder like it was a hot iron, suddenly tense.
"You mean if I kill him?"
"Yes. What happens then?"
"I…I never thought about it," Carth admitted. "I suppose I always assumed I would be dead when Saul was."
Aithne pressed her lips together. She nodded once. Twice. "I see. And what exactly made you assume that? What do you plan on doing?"
Carth held her gaze, answering in full and honestly. "Understand that whenever I envisioned taking on Saul in the past, it was always as the captain of my own ship…or alone. In those cases, I would risk everything. I'm not in the same situation now, though." His words were gently. "I wouldn't risk you…or the others."
"That's something at least," Aithne said, bitterly.
"You don't think I would throw away everything we're doing here, do you?" Carth asked, nettled.
Aithne stuck out her chin. "I don't know," she challenged. "Isn't killing Saul your life, Onasi?"
Carth looked hurt, and Aithne was glad. "I would like to think that I wouldn't put you in danger," he said slowly, definitely. "Or forget that there's more behind Saul that needs to be stopped."
Aithne prodded him in the chest. "So don't. I need your help, Carth. I want your help." She stepped down again and dropped her arms helplessly. Barely audibly she added, "I want you."
Carth's eyes fired suddenly in the dimness. He closed the distance to Aithne again in a heartbeat. He skimmed a large, calloused hand along her jaw, tilted her head up, and met her lips in a kiss.
It was different from either of the previous times they had kissed, Aithne thought hazily. The first time, he had kissed her. The kiss had been urgent, full of gratitude that she was alive. The second time she had kissed him to get a reaction out of Bastila. It had been quick, with no real feeling at all. This time, the kiss was urgent, too. But it wasn't sweet in the slightest. This kiss was desperate, almost angry, and not at all safe or chaste. Aithne melted against Carth. Her arms found their way around his neck, and she found herself backed against the wall of the Hawk as Carth continued to kiss her.
Her thoughts had been hazy, but the metal wall at her back cleared her head, and an overwhelming feeling of panic rose up in her mind. Pushing past the desire, she murmured against Carth's lips. "No."
Carth drew back, a question on his face. "No?" he whispered. His voice was husky.
Aithne shivered, but she shook her head and stepped away. "No," she repeated. "Carth, I want to be with you. But not yet, and not now." You're not ready, she thought. And neither am I.
Carth looked at her with visible reluctance, but he sighed. "You're right," he said quietly. "You're right. I'm sorry."
Aithne shook her head again. "Don't be. Just remember. There's more than Saul to fight. And...there's more of life to experience."
Carth nodded, eyes searching her face. "I…I know. I'll see this through. I promise you that. No matter what. As for what comes afterward?" He grinned at her. "Well, let's wait until we know I'm around to see it."
It was half a promise, and Aithne took it as such. She smiled, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him once, softly. "You better be," she whispered. She turned, and left for bed, but she felt his eyes on her all the way down the corridor.
Aithne awoke the next morning in a determined sort of mood. There were quite a few things she needed to do that day. She listed them in her head before getting out of bed. There was a hunting license that had to be obtained from the Czerka slime somehow. She had to discover the whereabouts of a useless Twi'lek. That afternoon she had to help her drama queen Mandalorian friend win his stupid challenge. And, she thought as she dressed, she really ought to begin the search for the Star Map and Bastila's father's holocron. She tied her hair up and called the crew together for breakfast.
"It's too damn early to be up after last night," Jolee complained, rubbing his head. Juhani merely groaned.
Aithne shot the entire weary crew her sunniest smile. "I had less sleep than any of you," she announced. "I hereby declare all of you to be without rights to whine."
Bastila looked at her suspiciously, darting a glance at Carth. Aithne blinked at the Jedi girl, revealing nothing.
"What is the plan?" Juhani said in her accented voice, looking a little strained.
"Does it involve getting the gizka out of here?" Canderous inquired, glaring at one croaking beneath the table.
Aithne grimaced. "Unfortunately not. Juhani, though, if you like you may go back to bed. I don't particularly need you today."
Juhani stood, and bowed. "I thank you," she murmured. Somewhat unsteadily, she left the room.
"Poor kid can't hold her liquor," Canderous remarked, somewhat condescendingly.
"Be that as it may, I don't want any of you to tease her about it," Aithne said, focusing her eyes on Mission and Jolee. "Any of you."
"You're no fun," Mission complained. Aithne made a face at her.
"For the majority of the day," she explained to the remaining crew members, "I'll be in town trying to discover the whereabouts of Griff Vao and talk the Czerka into giving me a hunting license so I and whoever goes with me will be allowed out of Anchorhead."
/Czerka,/ Zaalbar growled. /You plan to talk to them?/
His meaning was clear. Aithne sighed dramatically. "Sadly, yes," she answered for the benefit of the group. "I plan to talk to them peacefully. We can't go kicking the slavers and scum off every planet. For one, it takes too long, and in addition, we'll get a reputation we can't afford." She grinned at Zaalbar. /Maybe a few years after we take down Malak we can go postal on Czerka Corporation./ Zaalbar nodded, satisfied.
"We're going to look for Griff?" Mission asked, now that Aithne seemed to have said her piece. Aithne looked at her, expressionless, and then nodded.
"You'll want to come along," she said. It wasn't a question. "Go get your gear." Mission nodded quickly, and left to obey.
"Canderous," Aithne said to the Mandalorian, her eyes narrowed. She continued in Mandalorian. /Provided I can get the hunting license, this afternoon you will settle your grievance with Jagi. I will accompany you./ This, too, was not a question.
"I'll need time to prepare," Canderous said, surprisingly in Basic. Aithne looked at him quizzically. "They deserve to know," was his response. He addressed the group. "I've been challenged by a Mandalorian previously under my command. I cannot ignore this challenge. This afternoon, either he dies, or I do."
"And Aithne?" was Carth's short, tense question.
Aithne pressed her lips together. He was going to be difficult about this. Nevertheless, she answered. "Under Mandalorian law, if I interfere in this challenge, my life is forfeit as well. If he can handle us. Captain, this is my choice," she added, maintaining eye contact with him.
Carth's eyes were hard. After all this, you think Canderous and I can't handle an angry Mandalorian? she asked him silently. Eventually he dropped his gazed. "Don't take unnecessary risks," he said. He looked up at Canderous. "Either of you."
Canderous looked across the table at Carth, seeming to judge him. After a moment in which the entire table just watched the two men, realizing this was somehow important, Canderous abruptly stuck his hand out at Carth. Carth took it, and Canderous muttered something in Mandalorian to the pilot. Aithne didn't quite catch it, but she saw that Bastila did, and the young Jedi's eyes widened. Carth nodded, shook Canderous' hand, and the two men sat down again. Feeling that she had missed something rather vital, Aithne cleared her throat.
"Alright, so Canderous will stay at the Hawk this morning while Mission and I head to Czerka offices. Is there anyone else who would like to come? Remember I can only take one other."
Zaalbar seemed to consider the offer, but Aithne could see he realized that handling Czerka peacefully was probably something he shouldn't participate in, and he said nothing. Aithne looked at Bastila, but the Jedi shook her head.
"I'll go," Carth said. Aithne looked around the table at Jolee and Teethree.
Jolee shrugged. "Take the pilot out for some fun," he said, winking at her. Aithne glared at him, and Carth's ears turned pink. Teethree beeped something. Aithne wasn't sure what he said, but it sounded impertinent. Carth's ears reddened more, and avoiding Aithne's gaze, he left to gather his own gear.
"I hope to locate the Star Map by tomorrow evening," she told Bastila. "If…Helena…was able to track us, the less time we spend in any one location the better."
Bastila nodded, but the corner of her mouth turned down. Aithne looked at her, then at Canderous, Teethree, and Jolee, the remaining crew members. She made a shooing motion at Canderous and the droid.
"Go," she said shortly. "Meeting adjourned." Canderous looked a question at the unusually silent Jedi girl, and T3-M4 beeped inquisitively, but they left willingly enough.
Aithne turned back to Bastila. "Look, I'd stay with you if I could," she said. "Jolee?"
"Yes, lass?" he asked. "What can I do?"
Aithne glanced at Bastila, checking to make sure it was okay. She nodded.
"Her mother's here," Aithne told him. "That's why we were late last night. I think…I think you can probably help her, better than I could, even. Will you?"
"Oh, it's not like the old man has anything better to do," Jolee quipped. But seeing Bastila's expression, he relented. "I'll do what I can. Get out of here."
Aithne nodded, and left. Five minutes later, she was stepping over a gizka to join Mission and Carth in the port. The suns were already high in the sky, and a hot wind was blowing. Aithne scowled.
"Let's go," she growled. "The sooner we get our jobs here done the sooner we can get away from this Force-cursed desert."
"You can say that again," Mission agreed, shading her eyes with her hand to keep the sand out. Rather grimly, the three set out into Anchorhead.
"Carth?" Aithne asked as they went along. "Did you understand what Canderous said to you back there?"
Carth looked away. "Er…yes. We all learned Mandalorian back at the Academy. We hoped we might intercept enemy transmissions."
"Well, what did he say?" Aithne prodded him.
"If you didn't hear it, Canderous probably didn't want you to hear it," Carth answered evasively, still not looking at Aithne.
"You're not going to tell me, are you?" Aithne sighed.
Carth looked straight ahead. "I wasn't planning on it," he replied.
Mission, slightly behind the two of them, spoke up. "So are you two together yet or what? I saw you last night at the cantina."
Aithne had a flashback to the metal wall of the Hawk at her back and Carth at her lips. She blushed beet red, and had to restrain herself from bringing a hand up to touch her lips. Carth didn't answer either.
"Well, are you?"
"Mission," Carth said finally. "Even if it was any of your business, and it's not, things aren't that easy."
"But you want 'em to be," Mission said confidently, skipping a step to walk between Carth and Aithne. She smiled at Aithne. "It'll happen," she said to no one in particular. "So. How much farther?"
Aithne rolled her eyes. "How can you be so energetic in this heat?"
"You're just old," Mission shot back, sticking out her tongue impudently. "I'm on an adventure, we're gonna find Griff, and I'm out of that rust bucket. Why shouldn't I be energetic?"
"Hey!" Carth said, needled at the insult to his ship. "The Ebon Hawk is not a rust bucket!"
"Jolee says it is, too," Mission retorted.
"Well Jolee is a…" Carth began with some heat, but Aithne cut him off.
"We're here. Stop bickering, children, and come along."
They entered the almost painfully clean headquarters of Czerka on Tatooine. Mission looked around eagerly, as if expecting Griff to be waiting with open arms. Instead, she was nearly bowled over by an alien leaving shouting things like "Murderers," and "Corporate Evasion," and "Bureaucratic tyrant!"
Somewhat bemused, Aithne turned to look at the rather harried-looking official blowing hair out of her face, identifying her as the source of the alien's fury. Aithne walked up to her.
"Can I help you?" she began, perfectly poised. "These are the offices of…"
Aithne cut her off, uninterested in the official's Czerka rigmarole."Czerka, I know. I actually can read the sign outside, you know."
The woman narrowed her eyes in annoyance. "I trust you have business with the company?" she asked.
Aithne made no effort to hide her distaste. "Unfortunately yes. I'm looking for a miner named Griff."
The woman paled, bit her lip, shifted, and generally looked nervous before she began to lie. "Griff? Uh…there's no Griff here. Never heard of him. No…I…I don't remember a single Griff on the Czerka payroll."
Aithne smiled, unimpressed. "You know, for a Czerka employee, you are an exceptionally bad liar." She layered her voice with the Force, dripping persuasion off her tongue. "C'mon. Tell me about Griff."
The woman nodded eagerly, and Aithne fought the urge to roll her eyes. Typical Czerka mind-slave. In order to buy so fully into a company, a person had to have a weak mind to begin with. "You know what?" the woman said brightly, "I think I will." Behind Aithne, Mission grabbed Carth's hand tightly. "We hired Griff some time ago," the woman explained. "Not a good worker according to his crew chief: always complaining and faking injuries to get out of work. He entered false time sheets and slept through his shifts. We even suspected him of stealing Czerka Corporation supplies, although we could never prove it."
Aithne's lips narrowed. Griff had been here, then, but, "This is all past tense," she said impatiently. "Where is Griff now?"
The Czerka officer waved her hand dismissively. "We would've fired him, but we needed workers. It would've been better for him if he had been fired. Then the Sand People wouldn't have gotten him."
Mission gasped. Carth put an arm around the girl. Aithne's face hardened. "I see…"
The Czerka officer continued. "Yeah, he was lost in a raid we suffered not too long ago. There were prisoners taken, but our rescue parties never found anyone alive. In the end it just wasn't cost effective to keep searching. All miners sign a waiver absolving Czerka Corporation of liability in these circumstances."
Aithne smiled unpleasantly, disgusted, and angry on behalf of Mission, but still trying to keep things civil. "Oh, I understand perfectly," she said. "In that case, I'll be needing a hunting license."
The Czerka Officer shook her head. "We're no longer selling them. There are too many people cavorting about outside the walls as it is."
" 'Cavorting' isn't exactly what I had in mind," Aithne murmured. "Is there no way I can get a license?"
The Czerka mind-slave of an officer bit her lip, eyeing Aithne's lightsabers, and Mission and Carth's blasters. Finally, she said. "Well, normally we charge 200 credits, but I could make an exception if you agreed to perform a task for us. It's similar to hunting. The Sand People are becoming a problem."
Aithne crossed her arms, beginning to see what the woman was getting at, and not liking it at all. "I see," she said.
"They destroy our Sandcrawlers and kill our miners," explained the representative. "One particular tribe is the worst. It's as if their chieftain has decided to wage a war against us. I would like their attacks…" she looked uncomfortable, then pressed on. "Terminated. Bring me their gaffi sticks as proof. If you agree to do this, I'll give you a hunting license now and pay a bounty for each stick later. I'll give a bonus for the chieftain's."
Lazily, to hide her disgust, Aithne said, "You want me to go out and murder a tribe of sentients? Well why didn't you say so? And why just pay for the gaffi sticks? Why not heads?"
Carth grimaced in the back. So did the Czerka representative. "Which would you rather have dumped on your office floor?" she retorted acidly. "Besides, they are ceremonial weapons unique to each warrior. It's just as good."
Aithne's mind was working furiously. But for the moment, she said, "Sure, why not? I've done worse, I suppose."
Darting her eyes down to Aithne's lightsaber, the Czerka officer asked lightly, "So you're a Sith, then?"
Aithne smiled dangerously. "No. Let's say I'm an…independent. I've no fondness for the Sith, nor they for me. I've a loose alliance with the Jedi, but it is very loose. We simply have the same goal."
The Czerka Officer looked nervous. Aithne didn't really blame her. Freaking her out had been half Aithne's intention, after all. If she were in the woman's place and had just made an assassination deal with a Jedi with no stated affiliation, she'd be nervous, too. She smiled wider, enjoying the woman's anxiety. Aithne was not overly fond of Czerka.
"Excellent," the woman said finally. "Now, just so we understand each other, this is an enforceable contract. Czerka Corporation takes this very seriously." Rummaging in some papers in the nearby desk, she handed Aithne a few papers. "Here is your hunting license, and a few directions. We believe one of their Enclaves is in the far South of the Dune Sea. You might try following one of our…"
Aithne cut off the officer. "I'll take care of the strategy. Thanks."
"Czerka Corporation looks forward to your future business," the woman said uneasily, but Aithne had already turned and walked out the door with her friends. Oh, if only that Czerka Corp rep had known.
Aithne stopped in the doorway. "Mission," she said to the girl. "I don't…"
"There's nothing to talk about," Mission said, face stern. "Those Sand People took my brother prisoner. Griff may be a slime, but we have to go rescue him! We can't just leave him with those…those…those monsters!"
Aithne winced. "Mission, I'll do what I can. You know I will, but he's been there a few days now."
Mission flinched. "I can't think about that," she said softly.
Aithne nodded wearily. "I'm on it," she said.
"You can count on her," Carth told the girl.
"I know," Mission told him. "There are definite fringe benefits to being friends with a Jedi!"
"Not really," Carth corrected. "I've known a few. But there are definite fringe benefits to being friends with Aithne Morrigan." He smiled over Mission's head at the same.
/Excuse me,/ said a passing Duros. Aithne recognized him as the same one that had almost bowled Mission over leaving the Czerka Office when they'd first gone in. /But don't believe anything they told you about the Sand People. I've watched them, and they're sentient./
/Look, sir,/ Aithne told him in his native tongue. /If there is any way I can avoid taking down all those Sand People, I'll do it. I don't like Czerka either. But they have my friend's kinsman prisoner, and I don't know any way to negotiate with them. Their language hasn't ever been learned, has it?/
/Well, no,/ the Duros blustered. /But there's a droid in Yuka Laka's shop that he's claiming can translate. You might try that. Of course, Yuka Laka'll say anything./
/I'll try it,/ Aithne told him. The Duros looked at her hard, nodded once, and left.
"What's going on?" Carth asked.
Aithne grinned. "There might be a way to get Griff out and work Czerka over."
"We're trying it?" Carth asked, beginning to smile.
"Naturally. It's not like I really wanted to help them out." she answered. "To Yuka Laka's droid shop!"
When they arrived at the droid shop, Aithne was unsurprised to discover it was dusty and run-down. She was surprised to discover that there was only one droid for sale. After questioning the owner, a greedy, stupid-looking Ithorian named Yuka Laka, Aithne discovered that the droid, a tall, mean-looking specimen in worn, rust-red armor, was indeed the translating protocol droid the Duros had mentioned might speak the Sand People dialect. Yuka Laka didn't seem to know much about the droid and its history. The only thing he mentioned with certainty was that the droid knew and could translate an incredible number of cultures and languages, and that it was one of the best at handling weapons he'd ever seen. Aithne decided to inspect the droid, known as HK-47, herself. Mission went over to examine a few of the droid upgrades Yuka Laka had on the shelves. Carth walked over with Aithne to the droid.
As soon as the droid recognized they were making their way over, its red, narrow eyes brightened, and it hailed them in a rather unusual manner.
"Greeting:" the droid, well, greeted them. "Hello to you, prospective purchaser. I am referred to as HK-47, a fully functional Systech Corporation droid skilled in both combat and protocol functions. Query: Would you be so kind as to purchase this model from Yuka Laka? It would serve my purposes to be removed from his ownership."
Aithne and Carth looked at the droid blankly, dumbfounded. Carth recovered first.
"It sure talks a lot, doesn't it?" he asked Aithne.
Aithne nodded, eyes wide. She addressed the droid with the question that seemed to be of most concern at the moment. "Your purposes? If I'm going to purchase you, it's my purposes that matter, isn't it? Outline your functions."
The droid swiveled its triangular, menacing head. "Refusal: It is not desirable for me to reveal core functions while still in the possession of Yuka Laka, prospective purchaser. It is sufficient to say that I am a fully capable translator and cultural analyst, and I am also proficient in…personal combat."
The hesitation set off about three different alarm bells in Aithne's head. She whispered to Carth, "I think this is one of the oddest droids I've ever met. I'm not sure if I love him or want to turn him into scrap."
Carth nodded cautiously. "Agreed."
Aithne turned back to HK-47. "Why are you keeping information to yourself?"
HK-47 seemed to try to make his tone light. He had more expression in his tonality than most of the droids Aithne had encountered in her years of traversing the galaxy. "Explanation: I have recently been fitted with a restraining bolt, if you must know. With it in place, access to much of my memory core is restricted. Not to mention that the fool Ithorian might raise his asking price if he knew more…or make inquiries into my history. Neither outcome is beneficial to me."
Carth whispered to Aithne, "This is one of the smartest models I've seen. It could be dangerous."
"How do I know you'll be loyal once the restraining bolt is removed?" Aithne asked the droid, flicking her gaze to Carth in acknowledgement of his warning.
HK-47 spread his arms wide. "Assurance: I am fully autonomous but lack resources," he said. "I will grant loyal service in exchange for proper maintenance. As well, it is rare that I am able to utilize my full array of abilities. You seem likely to give me the opportunity to do so."
"I see," Aithne hazarded. "Why do you think so?"
HK-47 indicated Carth's blasters and Aithne's lightsabers. "Extrapolation: You are no farmer or diplomat. You are armed and comfortable as such. We will mesh well."
"Definitely dangerous," Carth revised his impression.
"Why?" Aithne demanded of the droid. "Why would I need you? Sell yourself."
HK-47's eyes gleamed. His expression didn't change. It couldn't, but he gave off an unshakeable impression that he was smiling. "Disclosure: I am a versatile protocol and combat droid, fluent in verbal and cultural translation. Should your needs prove more…practical, I am also skilled in highly personal combat."
Aithne narrowed her eyes, examining the droid. "Why are you better than a battle droid in that respect?" she asked.
HK-47 did that pseudo-grin again. "Disclosure:" he disclosed smugly. "Finesse. Battle droids hold battle fields. I am capable of eliminating a very…specific type of target."
"You're an assassin," Carth said bluntly, grabbing Aithne's arm. "Let's go."
"Retraction:" HK-47 said hastily. "Droids built for such a function face strict regulation and often have unique difficulties with previous owners. I therefore make no claim to that designation, prospective buyer. I am a law-abiding droid. Yes, indeed, law-abiding, that's me."
Aithne looked the droid up and down again. Then, oddly enough, she laughed. Something dark and amused within her liked the droid.
"Right," she said sarcastically. "I'll see about purchasing you," she told the droid. "You interest me."
HK-47 nodded, lowering his voice. "Statement: The fool Ithorian has decided I am to be an expensive purchase. He does this out of greed and not out of knowledge of my true capabilities. Advisement: I have observed him. He is a coward, and will be responsive to…aggressive bargaining."
Aithne laughed, looking at the Ithorian. "I can see he might," she agreed. "You really don't like him, do you?"
HK-47 looked affronted. "Statement: He treats me ill, and is a poorly-skilled mechanic. Of course I don't like him." Suddenly he looked nervous. "Qualification: Er…of course I shall be quite pleasant to you, should you purchase me. Please?"
Aithne laughed again. "I'll keep that in mind." She began to walk over to Yuka Laka. Carth drew her aside, scowling.
"Aithne, this is a bad idea."
Aithne hesitated. "He's smart, yeah, and we don't know much about his history, and I think you're right in saying he was originally an assassin. But I like him."
"Why?" Carth demanded. "He's proud and insulting and that quirk he has of identifying every sentence he speaks is annoying as…" he cut himself off before he swore.
Aithne shook her head. "I don't know. I just feel like, for some reason, he should be with us. Just as much as you and Bastila. Almost…more. It's an odd feeling." She stared into space. Something danced at the edge of her consciousness, like a dream she just couldn't remember.
Carth looked at her. "We're talking the Force?" he asked resignedly.
Aithne laughed a little, shrugging. "Maybe. Anyway, I'm getting him."
Aithne did not use aggressive bargaining with the Ithorian, as HK-47, already Aytchkay in her mind, had suggested. She did use the Force, and was able to talk Yuka Laka into 80% off his original price. Not much the worse for buying the droid, Aithne headed back over to it cheerfully.
Aytchkay greeted her. "Statement: I see you have purchased me, master. I find this a satisfactory arrangement. My restraining bolt will be deactivated when you take possession of me. Am I to accompany you now? Shall I kill something for you?"
Aithne's eyes widened. Carth shrugged. "I told you so," he muttered.
"Um…kill something for me?" Aithne repeated.
HK-47 nodded. "Answer: Indeed. I am most eager to engage in some unadulterated violence. At your command, of course, master."
Aithne nodded slowly. "Well that's good, at least. Travel with me now."
The new droid stepped up. "Statement: I will enter into your service now, master. I am certain you will make adequate use of my primary functions. My gears are practically quivering with anticipation."
Aithne nodded. "Well, let's get that bolt off. Mission," she called.
Mission skipped up. "I found some great parts for Teethree," she announced. "Can I get 'em? Please?" She checked at the sight of the menacing droid at Aithne's side. " 'Course, we could also upgrade your new…friend here."
"Gratification:" Aytchkay said. "That would be most appreciated, small blue organic meatbag."
"Meatbag?" Mission said, wrinkling her nose. "The name's Mission, Rusty."
"Query:" HK-47, said, directing his words at Aithne. "Can I kill the small blue meatbag?"
"Whoa, there," Mission said, stepping back.
Aithne shook her head. "No, Aytchkay. You may not kill any of my companions. There are eight of them, and these with me are two of them."
"Sheesh," Mission said in an undertone. "What kind of droid'd you get?"
"Anyway, Mission," said Aithne, now distracted. "You can get your parts after Yuka Laka removes Aytchkay's restraining bolt."
She was beginning to think that HK-47 would take some getting used to.
This was only confirmed when, while removing the restraining bolt, Yuka Laka made a casual comment about Aytchkay being worn out and off his hands. HK-47 was up in arms in an instant, literally.
"Objection:" he objected, "Worn out? Listen, you talentless organic meatbag, one word from my master and I will pull you apart limb from useless limb!"
Yuka Laka started, jumping back maybe two feet. He laughed uncertainly. "Err…you've gotten a little hostile there, droid, haven't you?"
Aytchkay's eyes narrowed. "I have always been hostile," he retorted. "Now that I need no longer rely on you and your primitive maintenance skills I do not need to hide it."
"Aytchkay," Aithne said tightly. "Easy."
Mission made her purchases. As they were leaving, Aychkay turned to Aithne. "Query:" he said in a coaxing tone. "Can I kill him now, Master? I would like ever so much to crush his neck. Just a little. It is a long time fantasy of mine."
The words were unspeakably bloodthirsty, but so quaintly spoken in that wistful tone of voice that Aithne didn't know whether to be appalled or to laugh until she cried.
"Maybe later," she finally managed.
"You hear that, meatbag?" Aytchkay hollered at the pale Yuka Laka. "I will be back!"
Aithne snorted, and simultaneously wanted to hit her head against a wall. It was a reaction she was to become accustomed to when around HK-47.
A/N: Coming up: Canderous has a duel, Aithne negotiates with some Sand People, and Mission makes the unfortunate discovery that rumor, when it comes to her brother Griff, is indeed founded in fact. PLEASE review.
-LMSharp