Taris is a festering shithole and it has nothing to do with the army of Sith crawling through the city like ants on a day-old carcass. Within the first hour of scouting for leads Mal has been shot at, spat on, insulted, and witnessed enough xenophobia to last a lifetime. And the further she explores, the deeper the rot reaches. But for all its downsides, Mal is thriving. She's always been good at reading people. Finding the soft spots to dig into, the right words to make things work in her favor. And in a fight, those talents combine to make her a slippery force of nature.
Bendak Starkiller fires off three shots in quick succession. Mal rolls out of the way tossing a small frag grenade at his feet. It pops in a showy mess of smoke, but he's already out of range. The man is a professional killer, a war veteran, a ghost of a bloody time. A Mandalorian. Even if there wasn't a bounty to collect, the sight of that dull yellow armor in the corner of the cantina was enough motivation to kill him.
Another round of shots sends Mal scrambling to reassess. The fight's gone on for long enough. There's one frag grenade left in her pouch. It'll have to do. Mal charges, dodging and weaving through blaster fire. She closes the distance quickly taking a swipe at him with her vibroblade. He easily jumps back landing a shot in Mal's shoulder. She hisses from the pain and returns some fire of her own. He takes the two final steps needed to be in range of the grenade she's rolled behind him. The blast throws him off his feet, the awkward roll he attempts disorienting him enough for Mal to aim a few well-placed shots to his back.
"He's down! Bendak Starkiller is down! The Mysterious Stranger has done it again!"
Blood seeps through her shirt, but it can wait. The crowd's screaming in animalistic joy at the violence they've witnessed. The thrum of it reverberates in Mal's body, a wave of energy swelling inside. She told Carth that fighting was just an easy way to rake in credits for supplies. But the feeling of unadulterated victory, the admiring looks, the ecstatic fans watching her every move with rapt attention? No spice in the galaxy could ever compare to such a high. Mal bends at the waist in a dramatic bow before making her way to the locker room. As expected, Carth is already waiting with a medpack in hand.
Carth. He's a different beast altogether. The way he walks, talks, even turns his head screams Republic so loud Mal is amazed they haven't been arrested yet. In a way, the two balance each other out and the progress they've made in the search for Bastila is encouraging. It'd be the perfect partnership if not for the air of tragedy Carth wears like a second jacket and the calculated way he watches Mal when he thinks she isn't looking.
"Nice fight." He tosses her the pack. "Took you longer than I thought."
"There's no entertainment value in a short match." There's a stiffness to his stance that catches her attention. "Something on your mind?"
"Oh, I don't know. The Sith blockade, Bastila's escape pod, your face being broadcast to hundreds of people. Where do you want me to start?"
In their short time together, Mal has come to recognize the two tones Carth speaks in: deflective sarcasm and anxious despair. She's desperately awaiting the debut of a third. Despite this tactic to ward off conversation, Carth's body language screams for attention. Mal goes for the direct approach.
"You want to talk about something."
"Yeah? How can you tell?"
"It's written all over your face. When you're thinking too hard you get all these little wrinkles right around here." She grins, pointing to the space around her eyes. "So ask me before you explode."
"I'm that easy to read, huh?" For a man so serious it's fairly easy to make him smile. "What exactly were you doing before the Republic scooped you up? Because I've got to say I've never seen a common smuggler fight the way you do."
"Didn't realize you kept my kind of company."
"Oh, I'm full of surprises, sweetheart. Just like you."
Mal warned him once about the pet names. It only gave him the satisfaction of knowing the one thing that never fails to get under her skin.
"Well, sweetheart, I wouldn't be much of a smuggler if I couldn't keep myself alive. The galaxy's a rough place."
"I hear you, but the way you move is remarkable. Like you're thinking five steps ahead of the other guy."
"So you think I'm remarkable?"
"Yes, I do. But you already knew that."
Mal finishes dressing her shoulder and turns to face him. "Is there a point here, Carth?"
He laughs halfheartedly. "I guess I'm not making any sense. I was just curious where you trained."
It's always something with him, this man who mistrusts his own shadow. She walks the perimeter of the room to make sure they're alone. The next match won't start for at least another 15 minutes. Plenty of time. She moves in close to Carth.
"You're sure you want to know? There's no going back once I tell you." His brows furrow as he watches her a moment before nodding slowly. "You're right about me. There's something off about where I came from, why I was assigned to the Endar Spire. Why the Jedi assigned me."
"I knew it! I knew something was going on."
"Carth, please listen to me." She places a tentative hand on his shoulder. "If anyone finds out I told you, they will kill you. Do you understand?"
"I understand. This stays between you and me."
Mal closes her eyes and sighs, hand tightening in the fabric of his jacket. "I was trained in a secret military facility on the Outer Rim… run by the Jedi Council."
"What kind of facility?"
"While everyone's been focused on the war with the Sith, the Jedi have heard rumors of a new threat building in the shadows. One greater than Malak, greater than the Mandalorians, greater than anything we've ever faced. My whole life I've been trained to infiltrate and destroy them before they can rise up."
"Wait, what group?"
Mal studies his tense expression before leaning forward to whisper, "The Wookiees, Carth."
It becomes increasingly hard to keep the smile off her face as the realization dawns.
"I… You… You're insane!"
"You don't understand, Carth. They're going to take over the galaxy!"
His face is cherry red. Mal can easily imagine little puffs of steam blowing out of his ears.
"You are the most insufferable woman I have ever met! To think I almost… Agh!"
There's no malice in her laughter as she follows Carth out into the cantina. Mal leaves him to fume at the bar while she haggles over credits from the fight. Maybe it's a little cruel to play with his trust, but it's a lesson he has to learn. They don't need to be friends. They just need to work together long enough to get Bastila, find a ship, and burn fuel till they reach a halfway decent planet. The way Mal sees it, returning a high-profile Jedi and a top Republic pilot should be more than enough to pay off her debt. Still, the way Carth sits dejectedly hunched over his drink rubs her nerves the wrong way.
"Managed to squeeze some extra credits out of the Hutt." She slides into the seat next to him. "With the bounty money we should be good for a while."
Carth remains silent, rubbing his left eye with the palm of his hand. In the muted cantina light, the deep lines and wrinkles of his face amplify. The burnt orange of his jacket is coated with a hazy blue, his shoulders held down by an almost visible weight. Mal watches him age before her eyes, an old man held together by sorrow and a lifetime of regrets.
She blinks. Music and drunken chatter roar back to life in her ears. You've got to stop doing that. Carth watches her.
"You alright?"
Mal can only guess how long she's been blatantly staring. Reaching over, she takes the glass of dark green liquid from his hand and downs it in two large gulps. His eyes widen as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
"It's been a long time since I've had a partner. Since I've trusted someone to be my partner. I know I'm bad at it. Sorry."
He's quiet for a bit. "You're not used to apologizing to people, are you?"
"No, I'm not. Consider yourself lucky."
"There's nothing to forgive. I know I haven't been open about my past. It's not fair for me to expect you to be any different."
"And I can see how my joke was a little inappropriate with you being the hairless variety and all." She bumps their elbows together. He shakes his head and laughs. The tension in his body loosens and the teasing sparkle is back in his eyes. She leaves their elbows touching as they sit in companionable silence.
"So… what happened to your last partner?"
"Really, Carth?"
"I'm asking for practical reasons, not to pry. I swear."
"Double crossed me on a deal and left me to die. Got picked up by local authorities instead." She frowns. "And that's what led me to this mess."
"I can relate." He shakes his head at her questioning gaze. "Let's agree to leave the past in the past and get ourselves out of here."
"Deal."
Mal smiles. Carth may be a different beast, but she has yet to meet one she can't tame.