Blaster Boy
- Carth Onasi -
...
The endless black of space was scythed through by the sparking of blaster turrets; I banked the snubfighter sharply, and a Sith starship materialized within torpedo range. My eyes narrowed, and my grip steadied on the controls.
I depressed the firing button, and a second later the enemy ship detonated in a bright flare of victory.
...
Consciousness slowly trickled in. I stretched drowsily, eyes still closed, feeling a yawn split my face as the image of the frontlines receded. It'd been a restless night. My sleep was normally the dreamless slumber of those who'd spent their life in the military: bodies and minds trained to draw in as much rest from whatever hours of downtime one could snatch. I was accustomed to waking instantly, alert and ready for action.
Taris, I'm on Taris. My mind slowly kicked into gear. Chasing down a Jedi with a Coruscant-sized ego, and babysitting a lunatic whose personality changes more often than her clothes. Thank you, Admiral Dodonna. I opened my eyes and stretched, loosening the kinks from my spine. The floor was hard and cold beneath the ratty blanket I lay upon – but I'd insisted on Jen having the bed. I wouldn't dream of forcing an injured comrade to kip on the ground – although her look of sardonic disbelief when I said as much almost made me consider it.
I turned my head at the thought of her. Empty, rumpled sheets met my gaze.
"No way," I groaned hoarsely. Something lurched in my gut. "You've got to be kidding me!" I should've anticipated this- dammit! Maybe part of me did. The disappointment gritting my teeth didn't exactly feel unexpected.
I heaved a great sigh as I sat, running a hand through my hair in irritation. I had no idea if Jen would return- if she was off drinking again or simply done a runner- but I had to focus on finding Bastila. I couldn't afford to waste precious time scouting around for a firebrand who could very well endanger any rescue attempt with her unpredictability. Right. I'll check the cantina, and if she's not there, then I'll have to move on. The thought made me sick to my stomach.
I stood in grim determination, kicking the blankets to one side. After splashing some water on my face and grabbing my jacket from the locker, I noticed a pile of gear on the floor. I frowned – that hadn't been there last night. What's this?
A backpack, about half full with 'frag and flash grenades. A spare blaster and a vibrosword sticking out of it. A dark sort of resignation settled in my heart. Is this Jen's way of apologizing for disappearing? Sorry I'm running out on the Republic, but here, have a grenade?
I sighed. I knew she wasn't trustworthy, I thought sourly. Damn you, Jen Sahara.
Suddenly the door opened, and the very scourge of my thoughts walked in.
I stared at Jen in surprise. Her short dark hair was a mess, sticking outwards as if she'd never heard of a hairbrush, and the tatty beige shirt she wore hung untucked over loose-fitting trousers. "I thought you'd run off!" I blurted out.
Jen shot me a smile, small and peaceful.
"I just went for a walk," she answered. The intonation of her voice was serene and subdued, but her face was pale. She had the dusky skin tone of someone whose natural dark tan had faded from months spent indoors.
Just a walk. Right. "Are you okay?" I asked suspiciously. I didn't believe her when she was acting meek, angry, or peaceful.
"Yeah. Had a stroll around Upper Taris."
The explanation was vague, and I didn't buy it for a second.
"Picked these up on your stroll, did you?" I muttered, pointing accusingly at the backpack.
"I- well," Jen hedged, evading my gaze. A faint colour flushed high on her cheeks. "It's amazing what you can find lying around."
Uh huh. A thief to top it off. Although – let's face it – we could use the gear. I was unsure whether I should lecture her or inventory her loot.
"I know what you're thinking," she told me flatly, green eyes meeting mine. "But the sooner we're equipped, the sooner we can find Bastila, and surely that's what you want?"
"I guess," I grumbled, trying not to frown. "Not sure I really approve, though."
Jen rolled her eyes, one shoulder lifting up in a dismissive shrug. "Fine. I'll stop stealing then."
Yeah, right. I'm not buying that either, sister. "Okay," I said slowly, remembering the old adage to pick one's battles. At the end of it, Jen had obtained what looked like a useful amount of gear. I could only hope the acquisition of it would not bring us any unwanted attention. "How about we start the day with breakfast?"
There was a sudden growl from her stomach, and the side of her mouth twitched. "Guess I'm with you on that one, Flyboy."
Jen was ready to go after pulling on a concealing dark coat I didn't recognize. I took a few minutes to make myself presentable, and then we left, avoiding the food synthesizer in the public corridor by mutual consent. As an almost-free source of nutrients it was likely something we'd become familiar with – after all, a mere one-cred fee for a meal couldn't be ignored by those tight on cash. But the grey slop from the machines was highly unpalatable, and the cantina had boasted in-house fare for five credits the previous day.
We had Jen's pazaak winnings, so a hot meal at the cantina was definitely on the cards.
As we wandered outside, Upper Taris still impressed with its grandeur and sweeping architecture. Modern buildings stretched deep into the morning sky, which was strangely bare with the lack of air traffic. But below… below was the real Taris. We couldn't see it, protected as we were by the corrupt trappings of wealth and privilege that cloaked the Upper City – but it was there.
We'd almost reached the cantina when a shout rang out over the courtyard. I turned, my gaze immediately honing in on a lavishly dressed Human gesturing at us. A Rodian and an Aqualish flanked her. The latter appeared to be cracking his knuckles.
Stang! I recognized the woman – the noblewoman Jen had threatened yesterday. I suppose it's too much to hope they'll leave us in peace.
Next to me, Jen stiffened, like a kath hound bristling to attention.
"That's the cantina scow!" the woman cried, still pointing. The thugs advanced, the Rodian smirking in crude anticipation. I couldn't see any weapons on them, but this was Upper Taris, after all. The Sith were liable to arrest anybody waltzing around with a visible blaster – even the supposed bodyguards of whoever this noblewoman was. My own weapon was concealed, strapped to my side, hidden under the trusty jacket Jen had been pulling faces at.
"I don't want any trouble," I warned, in a tone I hoped would convince them that I was the real trouble. The Rodian laughed, a mocking trill of disbelief. I'd been in enough brawls to recognize the inevitability of this one. Here's hoping we scare them off quickly – before we attract any attention.
"You should be more polite to your betters, gutter scum," the Aqualish hissed in passable Basic, directing his comment to both me and Jen.
Jen tensed at my side; I had an irrational moment of worry for her safety before reminding myself of the fight I saw on the Endar Spire. Two thugs won't be an issue for us. It's catching the eye of the Sith that's the real danger here. At least we were round the side of the cantina in a small cul-de-sac, partially hidden from view of the open courtyard.
I glanced at Jen; by unspoken agreement I took a step forwards to face the stockier Aqualish. He launched himself at me, closing the distance in five strides, and I held my ground right up until the moment his fist punched out in a roundhouse. I side-stepped, grabbing his arm and using his own momentum to hurl him to the ground. As I jumped forward to straddle him, his legs kicked up deep into my midsection. The air burst from my lungs as I staggered back, momentarily winded.
There was a gurgled scream to my right; jerking my head sideways, my eyes widened as they fixed on Jen. She was snarling. And- and- wielding a vibrosword stuck in the Rodian's side. In a Sith-controlled area!
The Aqualish, struggling to his feet, gasped audibly as he, too, turned to look.
Snatching the opportunity, I jumped forward and crashed my fist into the Aqualish's jaw.
There was another shriek from the Rodian. My guard was raised, my eyes on the Aqualish- but, to my surprise, he retreated swiftly to his friend's side, who was now clutching at a bloody wound along his ribs.
"Aww, what's the matter?" Jen taunted. "Two ickle Humans too tough for you?"
"Jen!" I snapped. First she pulls out a vibrosword in broad daylight, and now she's egging them on? The Aqualish growled, his face contorting in anger, but he stayed still as the other thug leaned heavily on him.
"If we see you again, you won't be so lucky," the Aqualish spat, supporting his friend with one hand and cradling his bruised face with the other. For all that I was trying to avoid this sort of scene, I couldn't deny a twinge of smug satisfaction at the reddening visible on the Aqualish's face.
Jen laughed; a cold, malicious sound. "Go on, run like the little cowards you are." She gave a dismissive, insulting wave with one hand.
"Jen, stop it!" I stormed over to her, ready to shake some sense into the crazy woman. "They're leaving! We don't want the atten-"
My words died as her gaze snapped to mine. The look in her eyes... rage. Senseless rage. I took a step back at the insane glow of bright green. She's a berserker. Don't charge a berserker in full swing, idiot!
In my periphery, I was aware of the Aqualish retreating, dragging his wounded friend along with him. The aristocracy had run off a long time ago. But my attention remained fixed on Jen. The battle lust storming through her face was enough to - if not scare me, then at least make me very wary.
Jen shuddered, and the rage fled. Shock, followed by something akin to anguish, crossed her face. Her gaze dropped, to stare numbly at the bloodied weapon still clutched in her hand.
"Put that away – it's broad daylight!" I hissed, deciding it was safe to berate her again. The thugs had now disappeared, but already I could see two gaping Tarisians eyeing us from a distance.
She didn't reply, still staring unblinkingly at her weapon. A small spark of concern inched through my anger.
"Jen, what is it?" I asked sharply.
"I could have sworn..." She looked up at me, brow furrowing in confusion. "I could have sworn my blade glowed red there for a minute."
"With the way you go berserk, I wouldn't be surprised if everything you saw was red," I muttered, striding down the cul-de-sac. "Let's get out of here. Now."
"Well, at least we managed to scare them off." She laughed weakly, following me around the cantina building.
"You're lucky the Sith weren't around," I grumped at her. "That was inordinately thick of you. All those idiots wanted to do was rough us up a bit – all we needed to do was get the first blow in. But no, you had to shove a vibrosword – how in the blazes did you manage to hide that, anyway? We're not in the Lower City yet-"
"Onasi-"
"-stang, the Sith rule up here Jen, so much for being blasted inconspicuous-"
"Onasi!"
"What?" I snapped, stopping to unleash a furious glare at her. To my further annoyance – and perhaps even mortification – she looked amused. Amused.
"You've walked right past the cantina entrance," she said mildly.
I opened my mouth, processed her words, and snapped it shut again. She nodded to the door – which I had indeed strode right past – a smirk curving her lips.
"Anyone ever tell you that you curse more when you're angry?" she teased.
My brows lowered further. In some alternate universe - if things hadn't been so dire - maybe I would have laughed with her. Maybe. "This isn't some sort of game," I made out between clenched teeth. "This is serious. Dead serious."
She stared at me mutely for a minute, before an exasperated look crossed her face. "Okay, so flashing around a weapon outside is probably worse that pulling out a blaster in a cant-"
She at least had the sense to refrain from completing that sentence. I stood glaring at her silently until at last her expression eased into something approaching resignation. She sighed softly. "You're right. I'm sor-"
"Don't!" I bit out. Not another apology! Peace, I think I like her better when she's angry. "Look," I sighed, my hand on the cantina door. "Let's just go eat something, alright? And then I might take part in some of those duels."
"You?"
"Well, who else?" I said sharply. "I happen to be pretty accurate with a blaster. And if you think I'm going to let you partake in those duels when you'd probably kill everyone in sight, then think again."
Her brows slammed down. There was an intense look about her narrowed eyes, as if she was struggling between anger and compliance. She really doesn't like to be told what to do, does she?
"Fine, you do the duels," Jen muttered, after a drawn-out pause She almost sounded- sulky.
I couldn't help a small, victorious smirk.
We both calmed down over the bland cantina meal; a plate full of root vegetables smeared in a hot brown sauce, but infinitely preferable to synthesizer slop. I kept an eye warily on the exits, not quite forgetting the Tarisian citizens who'd noticed our stand-off with the thugs. I assumed Jen was making an effort to behave, what with the sickeningly meek act she kept up as we ate. The shy, polite comments she issued were both forced and annoying.
Better than the rage, Onasi, I reminded myself. I'd known a berserker, once. A Bothan trooper I'd fought alongside when my squad had been grounded on Rodia, holding back a Sith advance. The Bothan went completely crazy in battle, his strength and speed impressive even by his species' standard. His commander later told me that they all stood clear of him during combat – but outside of it, he was the quietest and most polite person she'd ever known.
Jen was quiet… sometimes. But I didn't buy it. Her sassy, irreverent comments were more genuine than the shy ones. And distinctly less annoying.
We lapsed into silence as we finished our meal, and then headed next door.
The organizer of the duel ring was a Hutt named Ajuur, and he seemed pretty eager for fresh meat in the ring. Of course he is – more credits for him. Sithspawn Hutts, the lot of them. But if I was cautious and played it right, it should be good money for us, too.
Ajuur was busy laying down the law of dueling in Basic, with a thick, garbled accent. According to him, there hadn't been a fatality since death-matches were outlawed some years back. Permanent disfigurements and disabilities, on the other hand, he glossed over, and instead diverted the conversation to weapon selection.
"We like to encourage variety, but most duelists prefer melee combat as the ring's small," Ajuur slurred. "There's some who stick to ranged. The best fighters, ahhh- the best ones are flexible. Anything goes, really, as long as it passes our health and safety regulations. We even allow grenades – only the non-fatal ones, of course."
"Grenades," I said flatly. "Are you sure no one ever dies? Why do I get the feeling you're trying to take us for a ride?"
The Hutt laughed. The fleshy rolls of his gut shuddered with each booming chuckle. "Ho ho ho! The duel ring has energy suppressors. Your choice of weapons will be examined and limited before you enter the duel, but we keep a medic droid on hand in case of serious injuries." He paused, leaning over to grab a juice lizard from a nearby pail. The glooping noise as he slurped it into his wide mouth made me grimace. "So, Human. Are you interested?"
Jen nudged me from the side. "Here," she muttered, waving a blaster at me grip-first. "Want to use two?"
I stared incredulously at her. "You had a blaster hidden on you as well?" I ignored the mental voice that pointed out the gun strapped underneath my jacket; I wasn't hiding a vibrosword, ready to whirl it around outside where the Sith could spot us as soon as we waltzed into the first hint of trouble.
She shrugged, not answering as she looked down at her coat. It was then that I realized just how concealing it was. She's probably hidden a whole arsenal underneath that, I thought sourly. If I didn't know better, I'd swear she was Mandalorian.
I took the proffered blaster. "Thanks," I muttered, before turning back to face Ajuur. "I'll do it."
"Good – new blood for the ring!" he rumbled. "But you need a nickname, like Ice or Deadeye or Twitch. Good nicknames make sentients bet more. Hmmm... what's a good nickname for you?"
"Anything will do."
"Well, you're new here. People won't recognize you." Ajuur shrugged, looking over me dispassionately. "Sents like a handle that has a certain mystique to it. How about 'Mysterious Stranger'?"
Jen snickered.
Cliché. But I suppose it could be worse. "It'll do."
"No, call him Blaster Boy," Jen suggested. There was a teasing glint in her eyes as Ajuur swung his beady gaze on her. "If he's going to use two guns it's perfect."
"Really?" I countered, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. That sounds like some cheap action holo-vid star. "I think I'd prefer Mysterious Stranger."
Jen was holding back a snigger, her face cut with a wide smile of glee. Ajuur grunted in what sounded suspiciously like consideration. "We've used 'Mysterious Stranger' on the last two off-worlders, it's losing its appeal." Ajuur nodded to Jen. "And 'Blaster Boy' does have a certain ring to it."
I groaned, rolling my eyes at Jen. "Honestly. Could you think of a tackier name?"
"Stop arguing, Blaster Boy." Jen was still grinning. I mock-glared at her. "Time to get ready for your first duel!"
xXx
Well, I suppose I could call it a productive day, I thought, as I limped slowly out of the arena. I hadn't expected the last duel to be so tough, though.
I'd taken out the first two with no real problem, but that Ice had been a rough challenge. Best to quit while I'm ahead... and between these six hundred credits and Jen's pazaak winnings, we should be set for the Undercity.
The day was almost over, and I felt like crawling back to the apartment and closing my eyes. You're getting soft, Onasi. The medical droid was quick to heal any deep damage, but I was left with some superficial bruising and burns. The tiredness was the real kicker though. I felt exhausted.
Jen was having a drink by the bar as I walked slowly over to her.
"You're not trying to get drunk again, are you?" I asked in suspicion.
"Why not?" she countered. "We're set for credits now - tomorrow we can buy our gear and find a way down to the lower levels." She took a long swallow. "Seems like a perfectly good reason to have a few drinks."
"No way, sister," I said coldly. "You lose your temper easily enough when sober. Getting drunk is just begging for Sith attention."
"You're pretty obsessed with the Sith, you know that?" Jen drawled, raising her eyebrows in what appeared to be disparagement.
"What, because I'm trying not to get caught?" I snapped. With an inward sigh, I lowered my voice. "We're fugitives, remember? Attracting notice is not a good idea."
She shrugged. I wasn't sure if her apparent unconcern was genuine - but it was definitely dangerous.
"They've left us alone so far."
"Out of sheer luck more than anything else," I returned, trying to hold her gaze and impart the seriousness of our situation onto her. Blast if she isn't the most frustrating woman-! "Look, Jen, that fight with the woman's thugs earlier? That's the sort of thing we need to avoid. That's the sort of thing the Sith will notice."
Jen's gaze dropped to her hands, resting on top of the stained bar. An introspective expression crossed her face as we both dwindled into silence. Let her actually take me seriously for once, I thought. I can't deny she's useful in a fight, but I can't help but think she's more of a liability than an asset.
A quiet sigh escaped her lips. "Onasi, what... what made you decide to join the Fleet?"
The unexpectedness of her query had me stiffening. I looked away, uncomfortable. "I've always been a military man. My homeworld's a member of the Republic – but even if they weren't, I'd still have joined. It doesn't take a genius to figure out which side is the right one."
"You think it's all that black and white?" Her voice was surprisingly neutral, for such a question.
"Oh come on," I said, exasperated. Where is she going with this? "It's obvious that Darth Malak's a ruthless tyrant who'll crush anyone who gets in his way... just like his master Revan had been. Experience has shown that the Sith won't stop until the Republic lies in ruins. Malak and his forces don't respect anything except raw, brutal power."
"Sounds like Malak and the Sith have the right idea," she muttered.
My jaw dropped of its own volition, and I stared at Jen in shock - which quickly gave way to blistering incredulity. "How can you even say that?" She can't be serious, surely? Not even someone as crazy as her could really mean that? All the colour drained from her face, and I dimly recognized it as something she clearly hadn't meant to say. Didn't stop my tirade, however. "The Sith are butchers! Soldiers, civilians, I mean they don't care who they kill! Even... even children!"
"I didn't mean to say that!"
"Then why did you?" I snapped. I can't believe she would even think it! Maybe things would be better – and safer – if I was just by myself.
"I don't know," she sighed. "I guess I was just trying to hassle you again."
"Yeah, well, sometimes you go too far," I said coldly.
She started to apologise, then thought better of it and stared silently at her empty glass.
We didn't talk for the remainder of the day.
xXx
