Kira didn't come out of the barracks when the ship dropped out of hyperspace, which was fine by Kylo, who took over the controls to dock at the Marca port. Trudgen came out while Kylo was waiting for the all clear to land, brooding like a gargoyle behind the co-pilot seat.
The room filled with silence, punctuated by Kylo occasionally pressing buttons or switching levers. At some point, Trudgen grunted, "Use the Force on a ship I'm on again and you die."
The cockpit behind them swished open loudly, saving Kylo from responding. He flipped off the auto pilot, settling his hands on the steering wheel, and then gave a quick glance over his shoulder…in time to see Kira strolling in with the dented remains of his helmet on her head.
Kylo almost dropped the controls and force pulled the helmet to him, in which case Trudgen would certainly have beheaded him on the spot. He resisted but just barely, hands tight on the wheel. Trudgen's eyes were heavy on him behind the black mask.
"That's mine," Kylo hissed at the dark swampy landscape of Marca, glaring balefully at Kira's reflection on the inside of the transparisteel.
There was the thump of a body dropping into a chair. A helmet hitting the seat. Kira muttered in annoyance, "Oh yeah? Do you keep all six of the other ones in your room too?"
"Kira", Trudgen growled when the ship jerked slightly under Kylo's too tight grip. "If he fucks up the landing because of you, you better hope you die in the crash."
The remainder of the landing was done in complete silence.
Marca was an obscure mining swamp planet in the Outer Rim that had been a war torn battle ground since the old Republic. It's rich hyperbaride mineral deposits had made it a key acquisition for the Galactic Empire. After the fall of the Empire, Marca had become a hot bed of some the worst cartels in the galaxy, fighting for control of distribution of the superheavy metal. The resulting skyrocketing prices on the market had drawn the eyes of the First Order.
First Order troops had been on the planet for six months. While many of the smaller organizations had been put down, the Hutt Cartel, the Bombaasa Cartel, and the Black Suns still had significant presence to drive forces to a stand still. Enough that the Knights of Ren had finally been called in.
The second the ship rocked on to its landing gear and settled heavily onto the dock platform, Trudgen turned and strode out the cockpit, leaving the two apprentices in a waspish silence.
Kylo powered down the ship with a slam of the lever and then whirled in the pilot seat, glaring. Kira was still lounging in the passenger seat, hands folded over her stomach and dark eyes already fixed on him. His mask sat in the seat in front of her, a black spot between them.
They stared at each other, static charge filling the room. Their exchange from hours ago lingered between them, an invisible wound.
"You're not going to use it," she finally said, chin nudging at the mask. So she was going to avoid mentioning it, then. Fine by him.
"So?"
Her eyebrows knit, lips pursing. "Do you actually keep them?"
"None of your business."
"Humor me."
He did not want to humor her, he wanted to tell her to fuck off. But clearly that would not work. She never did anything he asked. He finally said with as much vitriol he could muster, "The materials are expensive. They are re-used."
Kira's eyebrows raised but she nodded. He could practically hear her thoughts as he sneered, "Yes I was aware, and if you are aware, then stop destroying my things."
"I didn't destroy it this time—"
"I know," he grit out, and they lapsed into silence.
Kira's fingers played with the hem of her shirt. She was chewing on her lip, one corner red and tender looking. Like she did that frequently. "All right," she said finally, not looking at him, and Kylo blinked in surprise. "If you love the thing so much."
His eyes narrowed. "I do not love—"
"Wear something else during practice though," she interrupted, waving a hand at him. "Helmets are a vision hazard if damaged. Get used to people going for them."
Kylo scowled at the floor. It was true enough, even if most people didn't go after them as vindictively as she did with him."Fine."
Silence. She stared at him and he ignored her.
"Well," Kira said finally, hopping lithely to her feet and rolling her eyes. "Lovely chat as always, Kylo." She strode for the door and Kylo waited for the swish of the automatic door that would signify her leaving. It didn't come.
"By the way…" Her tone was different, and Kylo looked up. She was lingering at the door, running a hand over the frame. She was chewing the corner of her lip again. "I might have...said more then I intended earlier. In the barracks. I got carried away. "
Her eyes flicked to his. A pregnant pause. She looked like she was about to say more, then shook her head and strode out.
The door shut and Kylo was left finally alone. He turned and contemplated the sad heap of crushed scrap metal on the chair, frowning. Then he rocked to his feet and strode out after her.
Marca was humid and brown, an endless stretch of swamp, marsh-grubber trees, and mud. Kylo hated it the moment he stepped out into what felt like a suffocating wet blanket. The soles of his boots were caked with mud before he'd made it two steps off the walkway.
Trudgen was towering over one of the dock hands, a green skinned Rodian, terrified and cowering. As they approached, the boy ran off and Trudgen turned sharply to them, snapping fingers at them. "Cover your faces. Supreme Leader's orders."
Rolling her eyes, Kira pulled her sand mask from her pocket and tied it around her head. Kylo simply stared at Trudgen, thinking of his crushed mask sitting in the copilot seat.
The sightless eyes of Trudgen's mask bore into him. "Cover yourselves or you can stay on the ship," he said, then stalked away.
"He means it," Kira said beside him. "You better find something."
Kylo stared at Trudgen's back, then looked down at his cloak, mouth twisted in distaste at the thought of destroying it for such a stupid reason. Kira raised an eyebrow at him.
"You're hopeless," she said amused.
Kylo's eye twitched and he turned to snap at her only to find she was unwinding her loose black cowl around her neck. She held it out to him. Kylo stared at it blankly until she huffed and stepped into him, reaching on her tip toes to loop it around his neck. The warmth of her body against his, nearly touching but not quite, silenced him.
"Lean down a little," she whispered, licking her lips, and he complied without thinking.
He stood there awkwardly as she fussed and arranged the scarf around the lower half of his face, her fingers occasionally brushing against his skin. After tucking in the ends, she hesitated, eyes flicking to his hair. Her fingers twitched a moment, before she drew back to look at him.
Kylo stared down at her. Rey, he thought, the name on the tip of his tongue, unbidden and unwelcome, yet also undeniable.
Her eyes fluttered a little and now without the cowl he could see the slight flush in her neck and chest. If he didn't know better, she looked...shy.
"That'll do," she mumbled, and then she dropped back on her heels and stepped away. The warmth of her disappeared. And then in a more normal tone she said, "I want it back. If you tear it, I will murder you." A pause. "That's only kind of a joke."
Kylo stared, a gloved hand raising to touch the scarf. On her it had been massive, nearly a cloak. It didn't smell like flowers or perfumes, like he half expected—just cotton and a musky, almost sweet smell of sweat that was exclusively female and oddly pleasant in a way.
Five hours ago he had wanted to throttle her. Now she was grinning at him — he knew from the way her nose and eyes crinkled under the mask — and he...he was just tired. She exhausted him. Without a word, he turned to follow Trudgen and listened to her follow at a casual stroll behind him, humming under her breath.
The complex before them was supposedly a hideout of an affiliate syndicate of the Bombassa cartel. What had once been some carbon based metal casing on the buildings had not well survived the swamp conditions—the platform they stood on and the buildings themselves gleamed a bright oxidized red between the thick tropical trees and squelching mud. Rust had already begun to coat the lining of Kylo's cloak.
The plan was to flush out the complex and confiscate the shipments.
"Each of you take a fireteam," Trudgen was saying, his massive machete gleaming from one hand and forcing everyone to give him a wide berth. Behind him, several storm troopers stood by, nervously clutching their blasters. "I'll take the left side. Kira, go around back and take the exit. Kylo, take the front."
"Weapons?" Kira was performing a series of stretches beside him. Her flexibility was...impressive. When she grabbed her ankles with her wrists and leaned down, back arched, Kylo's eyes snapped to the trees, his lips dragging down into a scowl.
"No lightsabers," Trudgen said, surveying the building. "Don't want news to travel that we are here."
"And the force?" Kylo said impatiently.
Trudgen shrugged, meaning he didn't care. As good as an affirmative coming from him.
Kylo grunted, dropping his hand from the lightsaber hilt clipped to his waist. He'd have to acquire a weapon while he went in, then. Even so, the thought of finally using the force the way he wanted to filled him with a hungry anticipation. He glanced at Kira who had moved to arm stretches, his eyes dropping first to her shapely ass, then to the slim saber sheaths she had strapped to both legs. He had never seen her lightsabers before. Pity.
She looked up, their eyes catching. Her eyes glittered — a mirror of his own anticipation in them. "I'll leave you a few," she teased, and his brain immediately filled with an animalistic impulse to show her just what he was capable of.
"I'll leave you none," he said softly, just for her, one corner of his mouth curving. It occurred to him he had never engaged in her banter before when he watched her eyes widen, flick down, and then dilate ever so slightly.
He heard the squelch of their two fire teams approaching from behind. Mouth flattening, he raised a hand to secure the black cowl better over his face. For whatever reason, she grinned at that—and he could tell, even obscured by her mask, that it was feral in the way he knew her best.
"Advance," Trudgen said behind them. "Take no prisoners."
They moved at the same time, Kira vaulting over the steel platform into the darkness between the trees as Kylo strode straight for the front door.
Blasting the doors off their hinges felt good. The force was a fire that flooded through his veins, heady and delightful. He strode through the gaping steel doors to find three armed men waiting for them behind cargo bins.
"Iban, cheeskar!" One screamed in Bocce. The sound of plasma bolts ricocheted in the room, heading towards him.
With a wave of his hand, Kylo froze their blaster shots in mid-air. With no place to go, the momentum of the plasma bolts converted into high pitched vibrations that sounded eerily like screams. One of the men swore, face going white as a sheet, as another stumbled back and tripped, sprawling. Kylo ignored all of them, continuing towards a door at the far end as the storm troopers behind him piled in, blasters blazing. By the time he was wrenching the next door open, the door flying into the ceiling and lodging there, the syndicate men were dead on the ground.
Cleaning out the rest of the complex was quick work— just wash, rinse and repeat. Those that didn't run screaming from the shock of their blaster bolts being rendered useless faired no better than their counterparts. One man tried to charge him with a vibroblade, only for the hilt of the blade to jump to Kylo's hands, gutting him in the process. He took the vibroblade with him, parrying with ease the stray attackers that sought to sneak up on him, often blasting them back into the path of blaster fire.
When he and his troops entered the main cargo hanger, things were already in chaos. Two transports were up in flames, and a desperate battle was being waged over a third. As his fire team rushed to ring the perimeter, Kylo strode towards the center of battle, turning the corner of a pile of metal tankers only to stop short at his now unobstructed view.
There was Trudgen, a black force of nature beheading syndicate members left and right. And there on the other side of the room was Kira. In their short time apart she had some how acquired a crude machete and a black rifle and was wielding them both with deadly precision. Bodies formed a twisted path behind her. As she advanced closer to the gangway of the third transport, four men peeled off to meet her.
"You bitch!" A green skinned Nautolan charged her with a vibroblade the size of a greatsword. Kira spun, bending backward near in half as the blade passed inches from her face—only to slide from knee to feet again and shoot the man point blank with the rifle at her hip. The machete in her other hand was already arching out, slicing open the chest of a Black Sun thug who had tried to grab her from behind, sending him to his knees with a gurgle of blood.
She paused, eyes darting to the transport, and then backflipped high into the air as a volley of blaster bolts hit the spot she stood. Two shots from her while in mid-flip had her landing between the last two men, who slumped to the ground, perfect head shots.
Kylo's heartbeat quickened. So this was the infamous Nightshade of the Crimson Dawn. The feared assassin that could take out armies on her own, or so the rumors said. From what he was seeing, the rumors were not far off.
It was infinitely more pleasurable watching her fight when he wasn't on the receiving end of it.
The engine of the third transport roared to life, cutting off Kylo's thoughts. A surfeit of wind boomed through the cargo bay, sending troopers and syndicate members flying back, leaving only two people still standing. Trudgen's arm came up to block the wind, heels dragging backward ever so slightly. Behind him, Kira crouched low to the ground, blade skidding away from her as she dropped it to try to leverage her rifle up and fire. The transport lifted off the ground with a moan.
Kylo strode forward into the wind and stretched out his hand.
The ship rocked, stalling in the air. The sound of engines screaming at max capacity. The weight of several thousand kilos bore down on him, an unrelenting wall in the force. Kylo's muscles strained, sweat dripping down his temple, teeth bared, veins visible in his arms as he labored with equivalent will of force to close his fingers, inch by inch.
The sound of blaster fire. His name being called. Something hot splashing across his arm like lava, searing into his nerve endings.
For one terrible suspended second, he thought he would break first. His bones would pulverize like star dust. The force of it would rip straight through his arm and splinter him into a thousand pieces. But then—his hand closed sharply into a fist.
The ship exploded.
"Call in another squad," Trudgen was saying to a circle of storm trooper commanders. "This should be cleared by nightfall."
Kylo was leaning against the blackened hull of one of the disarmed transports, staring blankly at the ground. The wound on his forearm— a blaster bolt from one of the syndicate that had nearly broke his concentration—burned fiercely under the hasty dressing a squad ensign had given him. In his periphery, he could see Kira was sitting atop one of the toppled metal containers, legs kicking as troopers milled and rushed around them in the controlled chaos of a post battle.
She had been staring at him intently since he'd force-exploded the transport ship, and that had been at least some thirty minutes ago. Half an hour of heavy silence. The weight of her stare was a physical burn on the side of his face as Kylo's eyes flicked up to see Trudgen approaching them. He straightened, saw Kira's feet still, the heat of her stare momentarily abating.
"Mission over. We'll return to the Finalizer," Trudgen said as he stopped in front of them.
Kylo nodded. Kira hopped to her feet.
When Trudgen began to stride away, they made to follow — only to stop short when Trudgen whirled around, pointing a finger at them, "Take another ship back. I'm not flying back with either of you."
Then he turned and strode off, leaving them both momentarily speechless.
Kira was the first to crack.
"Well," she said, voice hoarse as if she'd been yelling for hours but her tone still unmistakably wry. "I guess Trudgen gets to keep your helmet then."
x
Author's Note: From a mix of Bocce/Huttese taken from Wookieepedia and Star Wars langauge sites:
Iban, cheeskar! - Die, Scum!