"Corellia. I've never heard of it."
"Most people haven't, kid."
"Don't call me that."
"What would you prefer I called you?" He drove carefully around the curves already glistening with ice. November had hit the mountains hard, and the rain of earlier was freezing on the roads. The little indicator on his dashboard was flashing a frost warning, but he knew it as soon as he saw the clear skies as the sun set. The cabin would be freezing, but at least it would warm up fast. He just hoped she'd listened when he told her to bring warm clothing. "Madam? Miss? Principessa?"
"Ugh, no. Poppy calls me that. I hate it." She looked at her nails, buffing them against her puffy jacket then inspecting them again. "It's like he thinks he's the Emperor or something. You can call me Miss Jackson, if you want."
She'd see those nails cracked and grubby in no time, he was sure of it. Unless she'd brought an entire salon in her suitcases. They were heavy enough. He'd fitted both into the trunk, and her satchel on the back seat next to his own duffel bag. "Very well, Miss Jackson. We'll just be in time to hit the store, and I intend getting food for a week. Have you got your mask?"
She scowled at him as she held up a moulded pink creation, undoubtedly custom-made to fit her face exactly. His own was something his mother sent him, not that he would admit that. The camo print was on point, but he made sure his employer knew nothing of his family or his background. He got a letter twice a year – on his birthday and at Christmas – and the birthday one had had something extra inside. It was hand-sewn, and he knew how much she hated sewing, so he wore it for her.
The lights of the settlement appeared as they rounded the next bend, describing only a small street worth of stores. One sported barrels outside, as well as a variety of farming implements and a couple of dresses that were totally unsuited to the cold weather. The others were a hairdresser (closed), a bar (open and busy) and the town library (closed with a sign on the door that he couldn't read at that distance.) A battered truck pulled out of a space in front of the store, and Kylo quickly claimed it, ignoring the loud honk from another car that had obviously had designs on the space.
"Too slow!" Miss Jackson crowed a little, then slipped on her mask. "So, a week, you said. We'll be here a week?" He couldn't tell if under the mask lay a smile or a scowl. Or even just the innocent query of a young girl. But he didn't believe she was that. Innocent, that is. Naïve, yes. Clueless about her grandfather's "business" dealings, definitely. But she had the curves of a young woman, and the moves of one who knew it.
"It might be a while longer. It depends. Your grandfather will let us know when it's safe to go back."
"A fortnight?" He did not reply, and her eyebrows shot up. "Not a whole month? Oh god, I can't do this."
"You can and you will, Miss Jackson."
"But I have classes!"
"You've not been attending classes anyway, with the virus going around."
"I do them over the internet. Oh please don't tell me there won't be internet where we're going."
Kylo shook his head. Her beauty school lessons couldn't be that important, surely. "How often are the classes?"
"Twice a week. Although I can download one, but I have to be there for the other one. It's too difficult without being able to ask the teacher." Her shoulders slumped, and he could just imagine the pouting behind the mask.
"Then we'll see when the library's open. I'm sure you can log in there. Now hurry up – I don't like driving when it's so dark." He grabbed a pile of bags from the back seat, and the mask from the center console. Slipping it on, he opened the door, shivering a little at the cold blast that came in. There was a squeal from the other side of the car as his passenger discovered that a down-filled sleeveless jacket was no compensation for a lack of legwear. Her shorts, tiny and frayed, gave no protection against the cold, and he almost laughed as she scurried inside the store. He followed closely, checking around for any suspicious-looking characters as he did.
The store was almost a parody of the style. It was everything a Cracker Barrel tried to be, without the eatery attached. Groceries lined one side of the store, with furniture, hunting equipment and cheap clothing on the other, but the run-down state of the place enhanced the gloom that filled it. Kylo started through the grocery aisle, filling a basket with staples such as flour and sugar, and a variety of pre-packaged meals sufficient to last them at least a fortnight. He wanted a buffer in case they couldn't get back to the town in a week. Noting the telephone booth on the outside of the store and the Post Office desk towards the back, he turned to look for his charge, expecting to see her by the dresses and tiny supply of makeup available in one corner.
Instead, she was poring over an old piece of machinery in the corner, running her fingers over the rusty blades and tracing the fine steel rods that moved the whole binder once the wheat was reaped. The faded blue string that would eventually wrap around the sheaf was threaded through some of the rods, and she was clearly fascinated by the whole.
"You want to watch your fingers on that, little lady," the store manager called out from the counter. She did not jump, merely patted the machine then walked back to Kylo.
"Did you get bacon?"
"I got the essentials. That includes bacon." He gestured at the pile of groceries. "Anything in particular you want? Sugary cereal? Pop tarts?"
"If you have oatmeal and milk, I'm fine. And bread for sandwiches." She looked up at him, and while he couldn't really tell her expression, he thought she might be smiling. He was slightly surprised by that. The clothes, the attitude, all spelled spoiled brat, but a couple of things weren't quite fitting in.
"How good are you at cooking?"
"They taught us the basics at school. If you have the makings, I do a mean lasagne."
"I'll take you up on that." He headed back to the pasta section, only to see her heading for the door. "Hey – where are you going?"
"I need to see when the library's open."
It wasn't as if she could go far. He finished his shopping, glad that he had been given a wad of cash before he left.
"You folks up here for the fishing?"
"Sort of." Kylo helped the manager pack the bags, glad he had brought extras. "I need the solitude. I'm writing."
"Your daughter?"
Kylo laughed. "No, she's much too old for that. No, she's my sister. Mom said she needs to get away from some rather unpleasant friends for a while, get on with her study away from distractions."
"Well, she won't find much around here. Library's only open Tuesdays and Thursdays, and they only let a half-dozen in. Like you. They're scared of this COVID flu thing, want people to keep their distance. I survived Korea and three bouts of flu, and my lungs are as tough as leather, young man. Take up smoking. It's kept me healthy."
"I'll … think about it." Kylo grabbed up the bags and hauled them to the car, wondering if he might have bought too much. But better too much than not enough. He was just loading them in the back seat, jammed around the other bags, when his charge wandered up.
"Library's not open until …"
"Tuesday. I heard. Your lectures?"
"The one I need to be there for is Tuesday." She helped him with the bags, to his surprise, then hustled to the passenger door and got in as fast as she could. "Come on – I'm freezing."
"I'm not your servant, Miss Jackson."
"What are you then?"
"Your bodyguard." He got in, took his mask off and started the car, checking around before backing out of the space. "I told the old guy inside I'm your brother, but I'm really here to protect you."
"I don't need protecting." She took her mask off too, folding it into its tin.
"Right. And the body of your previous guard just happened to fall over dead, spouting blood from three holes, magically."
"Unkar deserved it. He was a creep."
"Creep or not, he was in charge of your safety. Your grandfather had had … hang on!"
Kylo hit the brakes hard as they came around a corner to find a tree blocking the road. Only his excellent reflexes stopped the car hitting it. Leaving the headlights on, the two looked at each other then wordlessly got out and inspected the obstacle. Each took one of the branches, and in a minute they had it pulled far enough to the side that a car could get past if it went carefully.
"Not many people come along here." Miss Jackson blew on her fingers as she got back in, the skin showing red and white with cold between the mud streaks.
"How do you work that out?" Kylo carefully manoeuvred the car around the tree, wincing at the scratching sounds down the side. He would have to explain that to Palpatine when he got back.
"That tree's been there at least since the rain, which was three hours ago. It was soaking wet. So no-one else has tried to drive down here since early afternoon." She held her fingers in front of the air vent, wincing a little.
"You might be right. It's a fairly deserted area this time of year. More of a summer cottage. But it should do. Anyway …" Kylo dropped the car down a gear as the road became steeper. "Your grandfather told me there's some trouble going on, and he was worried for your safety. The people who killed Plutt were after you, or so he thinks. So he told me to take you somewhere safe."
"And this safe place is …"
"Safe." At this, they turned down a tiny dirt track, the car rocking from side to side as it negotiated the ruts in the mud. Kylo said nothing more until they pulled up at the ubiquitous log cabin, larger than a hut but not by much. Miss Jackson got out and looked around, as if she expected something more – and whatever she was looking for obviously wasn't there. The single power line swung lazily in the cold breeze, and the cabin showed no light at all. She made a noise – Kylo wasn't sure if it was a snort or a sob – then looked back to him.
"Take me home."
"No."
"Fine." She stormed up the steps, tried to open the door, then kicked it. The look on her face as she turned back to him was total scorn.
"I hate you, I hate this, and I hate my grandfather."
"You can do all that later. Now help me get the bags inside."
The look changed from hate to resignation, and she came back down and took two of the grocery bags from him. "We share the cooking and the cleaning."
"Fine by me." Oh, this was going to be interesting. Kylo hefted some more bags, then went up to open the door."