Hey all! This chapter took longer than planned as usual. Things are getting much heavier to write, and I had to go a different way than planned again!

Anyway, Happy Easter to all who celebrate it!

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Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable.

Chapter 16

Contradictions

The Same Night

Sarita swayed against Spiker, her head lolling back against his broad chest as she tried to stand. His arm stayed tight around her waist. She looked up, meeting a set of glowing red eyes set in an angularly featured face. His skin was almost identical in color to her own and the Pantorans, but he was an entirely different race to either of them.

"I won't be long," Sarita assured the giant. He leaned down, kissing the shell of her ear lingeringly, his warm breath fanning out over her skin. "I'll be waiting," he whispered.

Sarita held her breath, a tremor passing through her, she knew he would mistake for attraction. She had to fight the urge to pull away from him.

Across the table from them, Ghizz snickered, a sneer wrinkling his red face.

Spiker pulled back, studying her for a moment and his arm loosened. "Hurry back." He let her go, his attention returning to their companion.

Sarita shuddered, pushing out of his arms as quickly as she could, and moved away from the table. She wove her way through the crowd as she hurried across the throne room. She knew Kiya would tell her to stay sober, and she had tried, but Sarita couldn't. There was no out for her, no matter what Kiya thought. Sarita knew. If it weren't him, it would be another. She couldn't save herself, but spice gave her an escape. It numbed the edges and made his presence more palatable. Bib Fortuna had made it more than clear what he expected of her.

Spiker wasn't what she expected, however. He hadn't actually tried to do anything to her. Granted, she had gotten him as drunk as possible the last three nights, but he hadn't tried anything physical. He liked to keep her perched on his knee or tucked into his side. He also liked to look at her and touch her, but so far, that was it.

He hadn't tried to really kiss her yet besides on the face or neck, either.

Sarita knew she was expected to initiate things if Spiker did not; Bib Fortuna had made that clear. He had also made it clear what would happen to her if she didn't do as he wanted.

When she reached the landing outside the throne room, she continued down to the next level. The music from above faded behind her. Sarita arrived at the pit a short time later. The space was empty as she knew it would be. Sarita made her way down the room to the dressing table she used, opening one of the drawers. She didn't understand why she kept the stuff hidden in the back of one of her drawers when it was so plentiful and easy to access here. Sarita dumped some of the powder on her hand between her thumb and pointer finger and stared at it. The white powder looked even brighter against her blue skin. She wanted to be strong, but she couldn't. Sarita forced herself to wait, eyes tightly closed. She opened them a moment later, snorting the powder from her hand. A warm and liquid feeling spread through her body on a softly rolling wave. She looked up, her attention catching on her reflection. She stared at it in the mirror; dark purple smudges that had nothing to do with makeup marred the skin around her eyes. Her cheeks were hollower than they'd ever been. Sarita brushed her hair back from her face.

It was such a short time ago she had been on that ship with her parents. Sarita squeezed her eyes closed, a hollow ache taking root in her chest. The memory of her mother's smile filled her head. Valetia Amalena was proud of her daughter. Where Sarita was from, none of this world was more than vaguely real. She had heard the stories of the slave market, but she had never seen them, nor had she ever expected to.

Little had she known in her protected bubble that would change.

No one here knew she was a dancer—a real one. The masters trained her. She had dreams of gracing the stages of Coruscant her entire life. Instead, her stage was the filthy throne room of a Hutt crime lord. Sarita tilted her head back as the memory of spinning on tiptoe filled her head, her back and neck gracefully arched. Her posture was perfect.

"What are you doing down here," Bib Fortuna demanded from behind her, jarring Sarita from her thoughts.

She spun around, her mouth falling open, a wave of panic slammed into her.

Contempt marked his pasty features and burned in his pink eyes. "You what? You needed spice?"

Throat suddenly dry, Sarita swallowed, backing away from him. Her hips bumped into her dressing table.

"Have you learned anything yet?"

Sarita clutched at the edge of the table and shook her head no.

His eyes drifted down her frame as his upper lip curled up. "Stupid girl; you know what happens if you disappoint me." He moved toward her.

Sarita pushed even further back, the edge of the table digging into her hips this time. "Yes, yes, your worship." She was afraid he was going to touch her.

"You haven't been intimate with him," Fortuna said. It wasn't a question. "You will unless you want the alternative. Big Ghizz would be much quicker to sample what you have to offer."

Sarita didn't miss the warning.

Silence filled the room for a moment. "Go!" he barked. Sarita scurried past him and out the door.

XxX

Bib Fortuna adjusted the shoulders of his robe as he stepped out of the dancers' pit, just in time to see the Wroonian girl dart into the stairwell. His irritation at a simmer. The girl was very likely going to be a disappointment. Bib had expected that on many levels, she was too afraid. Too weak. This place would break her easily, she had just appeared to catch the Chiss biker's attention. Spiker never showed interest in any of the females. He was much like Fett in that regard. Bib Fortuna had been watching Rystáll Sant and Fett long enough to know; the interest was all on her side.

The Wroonian girl was not Bib's only disappointment for the day either. The more time passed, the more and more likely it became that his other plans hadn't worked out either. He knew there was the chance they wouldn't. Bib had also known the risk he was taking; he hadn't been careless. Bib Fortuna knew he could extricate himself from all blame if he needed to. Jabba was easily manipulated. All Bib would have to do was point out there were some who would want to cast him in doubt to weaken Jabba. And if Fett did learn it was him and was stupid enough to tell Jabba, Bib could use that to his advantage as well. As they said, there was more than one way to skin a wamp rat or a loth-cat.

Bib Fortuna could and likely would cast those doubts fully onto Boba Fett.

Bib Fortuna wasn't particularly worried about Fett retaliating anyway. Most would think he was insane, but Fett knew enough to know there was more value in him being alive.

XxX

Nar Shaddaa

XxX

The nights in Nar Shaddaa's upper levels glowed. Boba Fett's mood, however, did not. Not that it ever did, but really not tonight. It was darker, like the level he silently made his way through, blaster rifle in hand. There was something about someone attempting to kill you that soured the mood, no matter how pathetic the assassin was. Despite that, he took the news in stride. It fortified Boba Fett's intentions. He would remain patient; Bib Fortuna's time would come; he had messed up, however, when he made it personal. Boba Fett had a long memory, and he never forgot things like this. Attempting to have him killed had been a mistake on Bib Fortuna's part.

Far overhead, speeders flew by, between the tall spires of buildings lined in neon lights and giant billboards advertising things the masses didn't need, but it convinced them they did. When he lived here a few years ago, he had kept an apartment in the upper level. Xo lived down in the lower levels, where the city became even more filthy. Down here, steam rose, swirling around Boba Fett's feet and legs. It was even more inhospitable at night when most of its occupants were asleep. This level suited him better; it was his partner who had insisted they lodge up where the air was freshest. Honestly, he preferred to live out of Slave 1. Lonely, backwater planets offered opportune places to put down and lay low if he wanted to.

Ahead of him, something small scurried through the steam—the red and yellow of its shape visible in a secondary view screen inside his helmet.

It wasn't much further, and he would be at the small warehouse, Xo called home. Less than two minutes later, Boba Fett paused in front of a reinforced blast door and pushed the button. There were no marking to announce she or anyone lived here.

A slot opened by the door quickly, and a circular droid eye shot out, scanning him. He said nothing. There was no need. He had sent her a message that he was coming.

It did, however, take several seconds for the blast door to open. She had done that on purpose. The droid could have admitted him.

Xo stared up at Boba Fett through irritated violet eyes. One shoulder rested against the wall; her arms folded over her chest.

"Seems the Maker didn't mean for social calls at this hour," she began, running her hands through her short spiky green hair. "I assume you're after the intel you wanted." she pushed away from the wall and spun around, not bothering to tell him to follow her.

Boba Fett dismissed her flippant nature, stepping inside, the door wooshed closed behind him. He didn't point out that he had sent her a message. His eyes traveled down her spine as he followed her down the narrow corridor. Dealing with her sometimes required patience, she liked to push his buttons. Xoalletti Frosk was only a few years older than him; Boba Fett had met her through Latts Razzi when he was much younger. Then she had been little more than a petty thief and a street rat. They had worked together a time or two back then. Since then, she had become known as a purveyor of information and other things if you knew the right people. Latts had helped her build her clientele. Xo was almost always one of his first choices when he wanted to know something.

Boba Fett didn't trust her; he didn't trust anyone, but she was the best and knew better than to cross him.

"What did you find?" Boba asked, following her into her office. His attention passed over the holographic screens displaying different information around the room.

"I trust Her Most Exalted Gelatinousness, was pleased with her lightsaber?" Xo asked instead of answering.

Boba Fett didn't tell her it was a gift for Jabba, nor was he surprised to find out she had a hand in anything to do with it.

She let out a heavy sigh. "Charmer as always, Boba," she began, echoing the sentiment he seemed to be hearing a lot lately. "I'm surprised to see you in the flesh, Fett, no gonna lie."

With no desire to pretend pleasantries, Boba didn't bother explaining he had been in the area. "You're slower than normal," he said instead. It was no less valid than the unsaid words but much less likely to draw other questions.

Folding her own arms over her narrow chest, she reminded him, "you use me because I'm good, and I'm thorough. Thorough is the operative term in this case." she sat down at her desk.

"On that note, I can't find anything to link your girl to any rebel cell. Everything I did find makes it unlikely."

Boba Fett's brow lifted inside his helmet. "What did you find?"

"At first, nothing. When you sent me the other information about her family and her home being Nar Shaddaa, I did some additional investigating." She clicked away on the keys bringing up the file. Two holographic images were displayed before him. One was the second one he sent Xo; the other he didn't recognize. "Her name is Kiya Shesh, she was given to one of the Casino owners as a payment for a family debt six years ago, Fett."

The look on Xo's face said enough. The slave pens of Narsha's red light sector where some of the worst in this sector of space.

"She was sold to one of the syndicates." Xo shrugged, leaning back in her chair. "I have no idea what happened to her during the interim, but she resurfaced three years ago on Tatooine."

"That's it?"

"The only other stuff is the sort that wouldn't generally interest you."

All information interested him, he would just rather she tell him as little as possible, and he'd read the rest. Boba Fett was quiet for a moment. "What?"

"Her uncle is Verten Shesh. He's a mid-level smuggler here on Narsha. He handed her and credits over to one of the casinos to pay off his son's debt."

Boba Fett wasn't surprised. This stuff happened daily throughout the galaxy and beyond.

"Her grandfather was Creed Shesh."

Boba nodded slowly. That news was surprising, but that was only because he knew the name. The girl's mention of Hondo came to mind. Creed Shesh was an old smuggler who refused to transport slaves or spice. A smuggler whose supposed integrity was rare. There were several who wouldn't deal in the flesh; there weren't many who wouldn't run spice either. Boba Fett had seen Creed Shesh once long ago but never met him, though he knew his father had known him. Hondo Onaka was the connection.

Somehow Boba Fett wasn't surprised Creed Shesh had a granddaughter who sympathized with the rebels.

"She's not a spy, Boba. I know your suspicious nature has always served you well, but if this girl is a rebel spy, I can't find any proof."

She handed him the info spike. "What makes you suspicious?"

She couldn't possibly have expected an answer. "How much do I owe you?" he asked instead, tucking the spike inside his belt. Her violet eyes drifted over his face curiously, like she wanted to push but thought better of it. "The normals fine."

Boba procured the credits out of his belt and handed them to her. "Bib Fortuna?" he asked. They had an ongoing arrangement that she kept him apprised of any new intel of the Twi' doings.

"Nope," she said with a shake of her head.

Boba kept to himself that the Twi had just tried to kill him.

He nodded.

"I'll let you know if anything changes in that area or if I stumble across anything more about your girl."

XxX

Boba Fett entered the flight path and jumped Slave 1 into hyperspace a few minutes later. He would be back on Tatooine within two standard time units at most and before dawn.

He pulled the data spike out of his utility belt, sliding it into the port on the console, and took his helmet off, balancing it on his knee as the holographic display popped up.

Boba pushed a button, rotating her image and studying it thoughtfully, his brows furrowed. He moved on, scanning through the limited info next. Her father was Creed Shesh's oldest son Corten. He had died running a blockade thirteen years ago; his wife had been with him. Xo was right. Boba Fett leaned back in his chair again. There was nothing here that said the girl was a rebel. Nothing at all. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling something wasn't right about her.

She could just be a sympathizer—one who had heard Solo's name. One that knew he was important to the alliance? That didn't feel right either. She could have met a rebel somewhere during the time she had been a slave, however.

Boba Fett stared at the holographic display unseeingly for a few more minutes. It was likely she had met other sympathizers anywhere along the way. Many sentients empathized with the rebel cause even if they weren't active members. They dreamed of a galaxy where the Empire didn't hold dominion and the Republic still existed. He scoffed; they were all stupid, stupid as the girl in question. The Rebels would fail.

Boba Fett set the thoughts aside, standing. He would read the rest of it later. He had other things to do.

First, he needed to shower and shave, and he had a few system diagnostics he wanted to run. Coming into orbit this early, he would generally just stay on Slave 1 in orbit of Tatooine, but Boba Fett wanted to be the first thing Bib Fortuna saw when he woke up this morning.

XxX

Kiya flopped onto her back, covering her eyes with her arm. The Chrono Porcellus kept hanging over the door to the kitchen displayed the time in red. She sat up on her cot, pulling her legs to her chest. She rolled her shoulders forward; this bed was more comfortable than her pillows, but her upper back was killing her by the time she finally went to bed. She threw the blankets back, plopping her legs over the edge of the cot, she slipped on her sandals and got up, gathering her loose hair into a braid. When Kiya came to find her old clothes she had worn before Jiliac Desilijic Tiron arrived, they were gone. That meant, among other things, Kiya had to continue to wear the sandals that refused to stay tied and this dress that was far more revealing than Kiya liked. She barely noticed, however. Her thoughts jumped to Sarita. Kiya had watched, unable to do anything as Spiker led her from the room and down the stairs last night.

They hadn't come back upstairs that Kiya had seen. She had even asked Neelah and Lyn Me. No one had seen Sarita again after they disappeared.

That was except for Yarna. The Askijian had seen Spiker leading Sarita into one of the private rooms. Yarna hadn't looked quite so indifferent when she told Kiya, not at all like she had been when they discussed this very thing happening earlier. A general air of watchful silence settled over the dancers. Even Rystáll Sant was different. There were shared looks and a vigilance between all the girls that made Kiya think they had all been as trepidatious about this moment as Kiya was no matter the faces they wore.

Today she was up even earlier than when she had gotten up to start kitchen chores before. Porcellus demanded to have Kiya back last night, so Bib Fortuna wanted her to finish packing up the laundered linens this morning before starting her other chores. Kiya was glad to be back to her old duties, no matter how demeaning they proved to be. Her own like for the she Hutt might be a surprise to Kiya, but Kiya refused to be one of those slaves who was grateful for the kindness shown by her masters. Especially after last night.

Kiya paused grabbing, a plate from the stack of clean ones beside the sink, and loaded some of the smoked clount fish, Porcellus had left out the night before on it. Jabbas frog-dog had had a plate of these last night, and some sentient had kicked it down the steps. The creature had obviously liked them. While she wasn't keen on getting close to his teeth, she saw the disappointment in its large eyes. She also poured a bowl of fresh water.

She didn't head straight up the stairs, despite the plates in her hands. Instead, she headed for the pit, her stomach coiling tightly. It was mostly empty, like usual, and Sarita was nowhere in sight. Nola slept curled up beside Lyn Me; the green tentacles on her head twitched in her sleep. The pit in Kiya's stomach started gnawing as she looked at the child. What kind of father allowed his child to be brought here. Kiya knew the question was unfair. Jabba had forced Yarna into servitude, and her children were here as well. Kiya would never let Nola's future be the same as Sarita's. She would find a way to save her no matter what it took.

Kiya set her thoughts aside like she had so many times since she had entered this life. This was why it was better to only worry about yourself. It was a little too late for that now.

Kiya left the pit and headed up the stairs; when she reached the landing, the frog-dog was awake.

"I brought you something," she said softly.

It tilted its head to the side, its big double-lidded eyes blinking up at her.

Kiya watched the creature warily. She bent down, carefully setting the plate down, and pushed it closer. Watching as the beast chomped one of the fish up, she placed the water on the landing beside the plate. The creature looked up at her again.

"You better hurry up and eat before the others wake up," Kiya said, feeling strange speaking to the creature. She watched him eat for a moment. "You haven't seen my friend, have you, boy?" she asked softly. The beast stopped chewing, its large eyes lifting to hers. There was something there in its eyes. Something thoughtful like it understood her and was thinking. He shook his big head a moment later as if to say no and went back to his food. His long, razor-sharp teeth shredded the fish quickly. Kiya watched him a moment more before she peered into the throne room. She glanced at him one more time and continued up the steps. By the time she had finished packing up the linens and loaded them on hover sled near the door, she knew others would be stirring below. Just kitchen staff, but still, Porcellus would be yelling at Phelgmin as preparations for the first meal began.

The frog-dog was asleep again when Kiya reached the landing, and his bowl was empty and his plate clean. Kiya grabbed them and continued down the stairs.

XxX

Boba Fett heard the steps long before he saw the person as normal. He hadn't used infrared; at this time of day, there were always some servants stirring. She wasn't aware of him yet, however. She held a couple of dishes in her hands; even in the dim light, he could see how exhausted she looked. Her gaze lifted, her steps slowing, a look of surprise slid across her face.

He studied her closely as they approached each other. If Xo was right, and Boba Fett had never known her not to be: this slave girl was just one of the unlucky. Unlucky enough to have her parents and her grandfather die and be left with an uncle who didn't value her life at all. Xo's file contained a note that she believed Creed might have left the girl his ship. If that were true, she should have run away as far and as fast as the ship allowed.

She stopped moving a step above him as they reached each other. He stopped as well. "You're back," she said softly, looking in both directions.

Boba's gaze drifted over her face, catching on where her scar met her lip. "Yes." he found himself replying, his voice rough and barely a rumble. Usually, such an inane, pointless question didn't warrant a response.

"Is?" She asked, staring at him, concern creasing her face.

He nodded, untrusting of her concern.

A slight smile moved across her lips, and something very much like relief flashed through her blue eyes. "Good. I'm glad." The look faded quickly, and a heavier troubled light filled her gaze.

His brow furrowed behind his helmet. He wanted to ask her why she cared. He wanted to ask her how the same girl who believed the rebels were right to fight the Imps could value any Hutt's life.

"I have to go," she said, interrupting his thoughts.

XxX

Sarita held her breath, carefully lifting Spiker's arm, she slid from under it. She bit her lip, gently dropping the appendage back down, her eyes drifting over his face. He had strong angular features, even in sleep. He had removed his armor last night, but that was it. He was like an octopus. All arms, Sarita couldn't get away from him if he didn't want her to. Spiker had brought her to one of the private rooms last night, she had thought her luck had run out; panic had woven through her. Still, Sarita had initiated a kiss.

He had pulled her down onto the mattress and promptly fallen asleep.

Sarita tiptoed as quietly as she could across the room. She cringed, glancing over her shoulder as the blast door wooshed open for her to exit.

XxX

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