"This might be the first time I've had to heal someone for trying to talk like a Wookiee."
If Mal could speak, she'd remind Jolee that the language is called Shyriiwook and she didn't try. She'd succeeded in a flawlessly pronounced farewell that the entire village had lost its mind over.
"I thought it was pretty impressive. I've only tried it once and my throat was sore for a week."
Mal would like to thank Mission for her continued support and loyalty in all things.
"Are you sure you want to leave? I think there might be a few marriage offers waiting for you back there."
As for Carth, Mal would like to curse him to the edge of space and back, but a raised middle finger conveys the message just fine.
"Watch your language," he chuckles while attempting to cover Mission's eyes. "Not in front of the kids."
Jolee removes his hand from Mal's throat and sighs. "Nothing more to do but wait. Drink something warm. It might help."
She waves at him in thanks and starts pushing buttons on the synthesizer for something quick and liquid.
"One down, three to go! We're really kicking butt here," Mission beams before sheepishly looking to Mal. "It's really okay if we go to Tatooine next?"
Hot steamy caffa pours into the cup in Mal's hand as she nods. Mission's brother potentially being on one of their stops is a stroke of luck she gladly accepts. Better than winging it. Mission tries to play it cool, but she practically drags Carth toward the cockpit.
"I'm still processing what you told me of the Star Map," Bastila shakes her head. "Hopefully, I can be there to see it in person next time."
Her tone holds a tinge of annoyance that prompts Mal to shoot a humorous glance at Juhani who just barely acknowledges it. Liberating a slaving operation while showing self-restraint toward the captors has put Mal tentatively back in Juhani's good graces. As tense as their relationship is the real trick will be staying there. As for Bastila, she might still be upset about missing out on the Star Map, but the convenience of overused vocal cords is being able to skip out on apologies. Mal shrugs her shoulders and does her best at looking contrite.
Bastila's not impressed as she turns toward the cockpit. "Next time. I mean it."
Mal smiles into her cup before taking a sip. The drink burns her mouth instantly. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Bastila pause and glance back with a hand on her throat before moving on. Interesting.
Zaalbar sees his moment and takes it. The quiet tension between them has been building since the fight with Chuundar. He's free now, a certain weightless quality compared to when they first stepped onto the planet. I guess resolving family trauma will do that to you. Who knew?
He wants to talk about what happened. Thank her for helping to settle his conflict. She doesn't want his gratitude. The leftover anger sits rotten in her stomach with nowhere else to go. She spits it out at him.
"What would you have done if I'd chosen your brother?"
He looks confused. It's come out as a croak, but the sharpness is there. Mal knows he's been through enough in the past few days and still she can't help herself.
"Would you really have killed your father? Doomed everyone to slavery after fighting so hard against it? I asked you to make your own decision and you dropped the fate of your people into a stranger's hands."
And who was she to make that decision? A wannabe Jedi, a washed-up criminal. Those shouldn't be the qualifications of someone who can make or break an entire world. You know you love the power. That thrilling moment between heartbeats when all eyes are on you, every breath held waiting for your command. Stop lying to yourself.
Zaalbar trusts her. Dammit, he trusts her enough to let her make the decisions and she hasn't let him down. But if she had… the life debt. He would've been bound to her choice anyway. The thought makes her want to puke.
"I don't want a mindless slave, Z. I want a comrade. Promise me you'll never do that again. Promise me you'll decide for yourself."
For all her acid, he sees through to her intentions. The threat of chains no longer hovers around him. He tells her as much and Mal can feel her own loosen. A step closer to freedom for both of them. He exposes his teeth in a way that's endearing and gruesome at the same time. Mission emerges from her hiding spot in the hall. She nods gratefully before whisking her partner away. Mal's struck with the sense that the duo will outlive everyone else on the ship. She chugs the rest of her drink and resolves to keep her mouth shut until she can pass out in bed.
"You're a hypocrite."
Mal freezes. She wants to pretend she didn't hear but it's not an underhanded whisper. It's a statement and it's one she can't let slide. She turns, tilts her head as a question.
Canderous slinks into the room like a rolling storm cloud. "Didn't have any problems with the slaves back at Davik's. You even had a little fun yourself if I remember correctly. And now you're picking a fight with a powerful corporation for some Wookiees who didn't have the guts to fend for themselves until you showed up."
Mal scowls. Canderous can think what he wants about her, but the Twi'lek she pulled into a private room had been for information, not sex. Not that it matters. She's dead just like everyone else on Taris. It's hard to be threatening when her voice sounds like an abused children's toy, but she does her best.
"You sure this is the fight you want to pick with me?"
"If you want to fight, that's your choice. I'm stating facts."
"Pretty sure you're the last person in the galaxy who gets to lecture me on slavery, Mandalorian." The word hisses like venom from her teeth. He accepts the challenge too eagerly, too much vigor in his eyes. "You know why Juhani hates you, right? I could barely breathe the way it clogged the air."
"She can blame me all she wants. It won't change the fact that her people were weak."
"You're lucky she's a Jedi. I offered to let her kill you."
He laughs in Mal's face. Her blood simmers. "I'm surprised you'd give away the chance to do it yourself."
It would be so easy. He's ready for it. The promise of a brilliant struggle radiating from every pore. Even so, Mal feels an ice-cold confidence. She's made too many graveside promises to lose to him of all people.
"You sure are a rowdy bunch. Guess the trainings not what it used to be."
The heat flushes away at Jolee's voice. Canderous glances behind her in amusement before backing away. She can almost hear the promise of continuation another day in his dry chuckle. Stupid. Stop letting him do that to you.
"I didn't fix up your voice to have you yelling at everyone. If I knew it was going to be this noisy, I might have stayed back in the Shadowlands."
Mal spins on her heel and walks toward the Med Bay. Jolee is elbow deep in supplies, rearranging the shelves and tossing bundles of dried leaves across the room. She leans against the doorway. Her throat aches and her voice is a wicked rasp but she can't help herself.
"Not too late to turn back, old man. I'm sure those beasts miss you already."
"Hmph. Back in my day…" Mal rolls her eyes. "You could hardly get a group of Jedi to socialize with each other, let alone the rest of the crew. Too busy meditating and contemplating what lies ahead. You know the sort."
"Sounds incredibly boring."
"It was. Made you want to streak through the halls just to get a reaction."
Mal wheezes a laugh. "You don't have to resort to that. Seems like everyone here has something to say about everything."
"Question is whether you listen to them or not."
The sliver of humor working its way back to Mal dries up. "It's way too early for you to think you've got the right to lecture me."
"Hmph. And there's the temper to match. It's a wonder they made you a Jedi at all." Yeah, it is. "So why did you go off on your friend like that?"
Mal raises a questioning eyebrow.
"Oh, I know slavery's the dirty backbone of the economy and the Wookiees had a rough time of it. But why are you so upset?"
Her knuckles involuntarily brush against the scars on her hip. The words sit right under her tongue waiting for permission. Mal could tell him the truth. Admit that she was a slave once. Not for very long, maybe half a year at most, but the memory marks the first tally on her skin.
If there had been any indication of danger, any forewarning that her family home was about to be ravaged, Mal can't remember it. And as her family lay dying around her, Mal was the only one deemed worthy of sparing. Maybe the terror in her eyes reminded the raiders of a daughter or little sister waiting back home. Whatever the reason, they took their fill of her family's meager possessions and bound her to their speeder as the house was set aflame. When they dropped her at the doorstep of a miserly old woman and her two children, Mal embraced the naïve hope that these strangers would be her new family. The illusion was short-lived.
What was a child to do except make the best of a bad situation? She accepted. Endured. Waited. Until a pair of cruel eyes and a bright smile stole her away. Who would you be if she hadn't come to rescue you? Would you be waiting still? The weakness, the loss of control, that haunting emptiness is such a strong memory it threatens to bleed into the present.
'Why are you so upset?'
Because once she wasn't strong enough to save herself. Because once she let sweet words trick her into trading one form of bondage for another. Because once she watched a people ravaged by war bleed themselves into the arms of their conquerors.
Jolee waits patiently for an answer. Mal puts on her best sugar smile. "Because that's exactly the kind of Jedi I am. Want to heal the world and all that."
"Sure kid."
He sees through her bullshit, looks almost disappointed for a moment before it fades to acceptance. It doesn't bother Mal. He hasn't earned her honesty, not yet at least. And he's got just as many secrets.