Jay settled back in the copilot's seat and put her hands behind her head, closing her eyes and letting out a quiet sigh.
It was six hours after their death-defying escape from Rhen Var. She had tried to get some sleep, but found it impossible considering all that they had just been through. She'd eventually settled for dozing off in the cockpit, where she'd at least know if anything was going wrong.
As far as she could tell the ship was running fine and there were no problems to speak of. She couldn't be entirely sure of course, as the ship's systems were unlike any she'd seen before and marked with angular Mandalorian script. But she was fairly confident that her interpretation of the strange readouts and displays filled with Mando'a reports was fairly accurate. They'd need some repairs once they reached a safe port, but nothing major.
Vhetin was still in his quarters, probably more successful in getting some well-deserved rest than she'd been. She'd debated checking up on him, but quickly decided she didn't want to disturb his rest.
Let him sleep, she thought. He deserves it as much as the rest of us.
So she relaxed against her seat and carefully placed her feet up on an empty area of the control console, closing her eyes and letting out a sigh of relief. She was confident that now she could finally relax and not worry about being killed in the next ten minutes.
She didn't know how long she dozed. The gentle beeping of the various control consoles and the rumble of the ship under her boots was strangely soothing and lulled her into a deep sleep. It still seemed like only seconds, though, before she was being roused from her rest once more.
She heard a quiet beep from the command console; a soft sound that nonetheless shattered the silence of the cockpit. She opened a single eye and saw that the blue comm light was flashing. Void had an incoming call.
She opened her other eye and frowned. That shouldn't be possible. Comm waves couldn't travel fast enough to reach a ship in hyperspace. The multi-dimensional 'otherspace' was a virtual dead-zone for communications. But the comm was blinking all the same, just as if the ship had an incoming message.
She sat up straight in her seat and glanced around the cockpit. If this was a message for Vhetin, she couldn't very well answer for him. She may be his partner, but they weren't that good friends. But the light was flashing faster now, and he apparently wasn't seeing the comm light in his private quarters.
She hit the intership comm button and said, "Vhetin? You've got a message. You might want to get up here."
There was no response. She waited almost half a minute, then said, "Vhetin? Hello? We have a message. Are you there?"
Still no reply. So she sighed, moved over to the pilot's seat, and clicked the flashing comm button. Static filled the cockpit for a moment, then everything went deathly quiet.
Jay frowned. That's not normal.
"Hello?" she asked slowly. "Who is this?"
No sound issued from the cockpit's speakers. She thought it was an equipment malfunction for a moment. But when she listened carefully, she could hear some kind of static filtering through the transmission. A sharp tone, almost too quiet to be heard, could be heard through the noise, almost like a faint signal was linking up with Void's systems.
"State your business or I'm cutting comms," Jay said. "And I-"
A loud burst of jarbled static cut her off, then a smooth female voice filtered through over the transmission. Jay jumped and instantly fell silent as the woman's voice began to speak in short, terse sentences.
"I warned that idiot Matele, and I'm going to warn you as well: stay away from Kassh. He's my bounty."
"What?" Jay said, taken aback for a moment. "What are you-"
"If you keep hunting him," the woman interrupted, "I'll find you before you can even get close to him. And when I do, I'll grind your skull under my boot. He's my bounty, and I'm claiming the reward."
"I don't-"
"I've been hunting since you were just a kid dreaming about fast speeders and big blasters. But I'm sending this message because I respect you as a fellow hunter. Cross me and I'll make sure you end up dead."
There was a pause, then the woman said, "Consider yourself warned."
The comm channel cut off with a sputter of white noise. After a few moments, the speakers automatically shut down, filling the cockpit with uneasy silence. The blue comm light dimmed, then died completely. Jay was left staring at the comm unit with wide eyes.
Who the hell was that? Whoever that was didn't sound friendly, and they sure as hell sounded like they meant business.
She didn't know what to do about this. Vhetin had once said something about hostile competition, but it didn't raise her hopes at all.
"Bounty hunting is a dangerous profession on any given day," he'd told her. "But when other hunters get involved, you begin to walk a very fine line, and things get especially treacherous."
"How so?" she'd asked.
"Because once other hunters join in the fray, you suddenly have well-trained mercs gunning at each other – and at you – from all directions. All their intellect and strategy, all their ferocity and bloodthirstiness, working at cross-purposes. And when there's a pile of credits involved, things only get worse. It's like throwing a pail of chum into a tank of razor sharks. A feeding frenzy."
If this mysterious threat was just the beginning of other competition for Kassh, then things were going to get nastier than even Vhetin had predicted.
So she tapped the intership comm button again and said, "Vhetin, you need to get here now. We've got a problem."
Vhetin knelt in the pitch-black, dressed only in his simple combat pants with his eyes closed and his head bowed. He felt his heartbeat pounding a slow, steady rhythm in his chest. The air was comfortably cool against his bare skin and he shivered slightly as he concentrated on the all-encompassing hum of the ship's engines. He basked in the deep, quiet rumble that had always seemed to calm him no matter how tense he was.
And for what he was about to do, he'd need every ounce of calm and serenity he could muster.
He let out a long breath and placed his hands on the warped piece of metal shrapnel lying in front of him. He couldn't see it directly in the gloom but he knew every minuscule detail: the blackened jagged edges, the polished chromium finish on what little undamaged area was left, the multitude of tiny scuff marks, and the intricate black symbol that had been cut in half by its proximity to the burnt edge. He had attempted to match the symbol to all known Imperial logos and codes, smuggler's emblems, even gang logos. His searches had come up empty time and time again.
His fingers quivered slightly as they brushed the cool surface of the metal. An electric charge seemed to go through him at the feel of the durasteel beneath his fingertips and he shivered again. He let out a shaky breath, feeling his heart pounding in his throat from anticipation.
He sunk deeper into his meditation, letting all his built-up tension slowly drain from his body. His body quivered harder and felt his eyes roll back in his head to an angle that was almost painful. The sound of the ship's engines seemed to fade into the distance as he drew further and further into himself. After a few moments, he could see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing but the metal beneath his fingers.
There was a bright spark of light in his mind's eye and he winced, his face pulling into a strained frown. The atmosphere around him became tense and charged as if the air itself suddenly pulsed with static electricity. He felt the hairs on his arms and neck standing on end.
Another flash of light, this time accompanied by a loud rushing noise in his head. A third flash and his head jerked to one side as if he'd been struck. He let out a quiet grunt and pushed down harder on the metal as his fingers began to slide off of it. He couldn't let go of the shrapnel. Not yet.
He heard a new sound, different than the loud rushing in his head. He easily identified it as the labored scream of a damaged starship's engines, stuttering and popping as they struggled to maintain speed. The light in his mind turned deep scarlet and began to blink slowly. An alarm rang out somewhere in the infinite distance and Vhetin let out a gasp, his face now the perfect image of agony.
A voice cut through the noise of the alarm. Rame's voice, also echoing like the siren blaring between his temples.
"Get him out of there! He's still alive!"
Vhetin let out an inarticulate groan and pushed harder on the metal. Rame's voice grew louder and clearer. "Help me, damn it!"
"Before," Vhetin's voice was a strangled gasp. He knew all this already. "I need what happened before!"
Brianna's smooth, cultured accent now joined Rame's voice, though it was younger and higher in pitch than her current Coruscanti drawl. "Move fast," she cried, her voice tinged with panic. "The engines are going to go any second now! One, two, three, pull!"
A splitting bolt of agony shot through Vhetin's head and he fell forward onto his hands and knees, barely managing to keep his hands on the piece of metal. His breathing was labored, and his eyes rolled wildly in his head. He let out a moan and choked out, "Before!"
A new voice. Now it was Jay's voice that suddenly said, "Vhetin? You've got a message. You might want to get up here."
"No! I... need-"
Brianna's voice again. "It looks like his back was flayed open by that shrapnel. Holy kriff I can see his ribs. This guy's one tough shabuir."
"We need to get him back to the farm. He won't last long out here."
"Who do you think he is?"
"I have no clue. It's hard to even see his face through all the blood. Can you just shut up and help me carry him?"
"Vhetin? Hello? We have a message. Are you there?"
"Whoever you are, buddy, you've had one hell of an accident."
The roaring in his head slowly subsided, dwindling to a quiet tingling buzz behind his eyes. The flashes of light came slower now, pulsing through his mind with decreased regularity until they eventually faded completely. Vhetin was left alone once more in the pitch darkness with his stomach churning and his temples pounding uncomfortably.
"Don't worry," Brianna's voice whispered in the dark. "You're going to be all right. We've got you. You're safe with us."
Vhetin collapsed, breathing hard, and let go of the metal. His heart hammered in his ears and his body shivered with exertion as if he'd just finished a full training workout. Cold sweat beaded his forehead and his gaze was glassy and glazed when he opened his eyes. With harsh, jerky motions, he scrambled over to the waste bin, grasped it in both hands, and vomited.
As soon as his stomach had stopped rolling, he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and, with a shout of rage, threw the piece of shrapnel across the room. It hit the far bulkhead with a clang and fell to his cot. He collapsed to the floor again and cradled his head in his hands. His breath was coming in gulping gasps and his heart would not stop beating out of control.
Failure! Months of meditation practice, of calming his mind and trying not to count the days till he tried again and still... nothing!
He slammed his fist into the durasteel floor and the blow released a loud clang that echoed through the room. Brianna had said that all he needed was time, but that was obviously a load of osik. He'd waited four months to try again, giving his mind time to rest after the last attempts, and he couldn't penetrate any deeper than before.
Four months of waiting. Wasted!
He sighed and sat back, trying to slow his pounding heart. He took a deep breath, rubbing his now-sore knuckles, and returned to his earlier meditative position. His heartbeat began to slowly ease, his limbs growing stronger and ceasing their overexerted shaking. After a few long moments he was calm again — or at least as calm as he could manage, given the circumstances.
"It's okay," he said through gritted his teeth, forcing himself to say the words aloud. "It's not the end of the universe. It'll just… it'll just take more time."
The intercom buzzed and Jay's voice split his angry silence. "Vhetin, you need to get up here now. We've got a problem."
He sighed and shook his head. Pull it together, man. You've got a job to do.
Then he grabbed his armored flak vest and helmet and headed for the door.
"What's the problem?" Vhetin asked, stepping through the cockpit door in full body armor, as usual. "Did the nav computer send you a mass shadow warning?"
"No," Jay replied, moving over to the copilot's seat once more. "I just got a weird message. While we were in hyperspace, which isn't supposed to happen."
Her partner grunted in response and she cocked her head at the tense note in his voice. "Are you all right? You seem—"
"I'm fine," he interrupted curtly. "Just… didn't sleep well."
"Nightmares?" she ventured.
"Sure." He slid into the pilot's seat. "This message you mentioned. Did you record it?"
"Of course."
He triggered the message and listened intently without saying a word. As the woman's voice growled, "Consider yourself warned," he frowned deeper beneath his helmet.
"Was that it?" he asked, turning to his partner. When she nodded, he sat back in his seat and said, "Well, I think I can solve the mystery of how the message got to us while we're in hyperspace. It looks like someone dropped a hyperspace beacon set to lock onto Void's transponder signal."
"A hyperspace beacon?" Jay asked. "Isn't that a little archaic?"
Hyperspace communication beacons had been used in the fledgling Old Republic to spread priority orders to capital ships in hyperspace. A carrier ship would drop one of the round, black comm beacons along another ship's hyperspace route. After a time, a ship would pass with a transponder signal matching that of the comm beacon. The beacon would then send out a small message, usually text only, in the microsecond it took for the ship to pass. It was ancient technology; no one had used beacons like that in over nine hundred years.
Vhetin shook his head. "Galactic governments abandoned hyperspace beacons centuries ago, but bounty hunters, pirates, and smugglers have been using them for emergency transmissions for generations now."
He passed his hand over the dome of his helmet, like a helmetless person running their fingers through their hair. "You were right. We do have a problem. Whoever dropped that beacon obviously wants us to give up on the Kassh contract. And they seem to know quite a lot about me and my ship."
When Jay stared at him uncomprehendingly, he explained, "They knew Void's ship transponder code, which has the best counter-tracing software that credits can buy. And they knew which hyperspace route we were traveling along, which means they knew we were on Rhen Var and why."
"So basically they know who we are, where we are, and where we're headed," Jay clarified, counting off on her fingers.
"And who we're hunting. All with a precision that makes me uncomfortable," he said, leaning forward and tapping a command into the control panel. The ship blared an alarm, which he quickly silenced. "Hold on," he said as the ship trembled beneath their feet. "I'm bringing us out of hyperspace for an emergency stop. I need to get this recording to Tarron."
He pulled back a series of levers and the ship groaned as the hyperdrive reversed itself. They were both jerked forward in their seats from the force of the emergency deceleration. The stars resolved into their usual twinkling pinpoints as the ship ripped itself back into realspace. There was a moment of dizzying vertigo as the ship decelerated, then Void settled back to sublight speed and began floating aimlessly through space, her engines powered down to a gentle hum.
He quickly typed a quick series of commands into Void's control console and the comm unit powered up with a whine. He typed in a series of outgoing numbers and hit the transmitter button.
"Tarron," he said into the comm's vocoder. "Tarron Matele, come in. This is freelance transport Void, broadcasting for Tarron Matele."
"I'm here, Vhetin," the Journeyman Protector's deep voice replied, the transmission slightly garbled with static and other interference. Jay found herself admiring his punctuality — he'd answered within seconds of being called. "What's up?"
"We just got a threat message from another bounty hunter. They dropped it through a hyperspace beacon. I need to know who sent it."
There was a chuckle from the other end of the comm. "Why? Feeling threatened? Worried you'll run into some serious competition?"
"They may have bugged the ship. Maybe even booby-trapped it."
"Ah. I see." There was a moment of worried silence over the comm. "Transmit the message. I'll get it analyzed and get back to you as soon as I can."
"Thanks."
Vhetin sent out the requested information and thanked Tarron before signing off comms. Then he sighed and sat back in his seat, running a hand along the smooth dome of his helmet again. "Tarron will dig up everything he can for us. The sooner he can track down our competition, the better off we'll be."
"You're worried," Jay said. It wasn't a question. "Who do you think is after us?"
Vhetin shrugged. "I don't know. But someone went through a lot of effort to get that message to us. And if other hunters are finding out that Kassh is loose again..."
"You're worried about Boba Fett, aren't you?" Jay guessed.
It was a good guess. The name was feared all across the galaxy. Encased from head-to-toe in Mandalorian combat armor scarred and pockmarked from countless battles and bounty hunting missions, Boba Fett was a larger-than-life boogieman for all manner of beings on both sides of the law. Even other Mandalorians feared being the target of his legendary cunning and battle prowess.
His ties with the New Order only served to solidify his reputation. While Darth Vader was seen as the iron fist of the Empire, there were limits to what he'd soil his shiny black boots doing. And where Vader failed, they sent in Fett. He inspired fear in all those who found themselves in his path and was able to charge exorbitant fees for his work. It was said that many bounties simply gave up running when they learned he was coming, rather than be subjected to painful tortures and punishments for attempting to flee.
Now that was a serious reputation.
Vhetin, meanwhile, was nodding solemnly. Fett wasn't the one who had dropped the beacon – the voice in the transmission had belonged to a woman – but a reward as hefty as the one on Kassh's head might just pique his interest.
"Any self-respecting hunter would be a fool not to worry about Fett," her partner said. "He's so good, no target has ever escaped from him."
"I have trouble believing that," Jay said, leaning back in the pilot's seat and folding her arms. "The guy would have to be some kind of Force-user."
"Or a supersoldier?" Vhetin said, an amused note in his voice.
"Maybe. I don't know. But he can't be that special. You've never lost a bounty, right?"
"Actually, I have," Vhetin said, swiveling in his seat and powering up the hyperdrive again. "There have been a couple that I've lost."
"How many?"
"Six," he replied curtly. It was a touchy subject for any bounty hunter. "And that's still too many."
"Is that why you aren't a big name in the galaxy like Fett?"
He tapped a code into the nav computer, then pulled back a lever and sent the ship hurtling back into hyperspace. "Partially. It's partially because Fett's been around since the Clone Wars, and I've only made my way into the galactic picture in the last ten years or so. Still, being almost the best isn't all bad."
"You're an honorable loser," Jay said with a smirk.
"Rame says it's one of my most redeeming qualities. It's also the same quality that keeps me stuck in second place."
"How so?"
"I'm not as ambitious as other bounty hunters. Some have gone as far as saying I'm lazy. But I personally enjoy distancing myself from the big-time hunters. I'm not a household boogieman like Fett, but I'm known well enough that I make a decent living."
"Well when you put it like that, I guess second-best isn't that bad," she admitted. "And if Fett ever gets taken out, you'll be number one."
He laughed. "Still wrong, unfortunately. I may be good, but I'm a long way from being the best."
"I thought you said-"
"I said I'm one of the best. In this business, there are a lot of runners-up. It doesn't take much to be almost as good as Fett and a lot of hunters can make that claim right along with me. But we're still not quite good enough to be the all-time number one. As of right now, Fett has that honor."
"But… don't you want to be the best?"
He snorted. "No. Why would I want every up-and-coming idiot with a blaster trying to gun me down just for the glory of it? Being the best in the business also puts a target on your back, Jay. Fett can afford to walk around with that target. He's dangerous and he has the reputation to dissuade most contenders."
He shrugged. "I just want to be left alone to do my job. I'm not doing this for the glory of it and I have no aspirations to become the Big Number One. The work I do puts food on the table and keeps the bad guys behind bars. I happen to be pretty damn good at that work, and that's good enough for me."
"I can see your point," she said slowly. "I guess. But what about… I don't know, the fame? You could charge more if you were better known."
"This isn't the kind of business where you long for fame and fortune, Jay. The hunters who've made names for themselves usually don't last very long with that kind of attention on them. I've managed to survive seven years of this trade by keeping my head down — relatively speaking — and doing a good job. I have no aspirations to climb any higher than that."
"So… it really is just a job to you?"
"I prefer to see it more as a calling. I was raised to do this from a young age. In a way, it's all I really know how to do, and I want to keep doing it as long as I can for that reason." He shrugged. "I've come to believe that longevity and fame are mutually exclusive goals. So I chose the former."
He leaned back in his seat and carefully put his feet up on the command console. "You'll probably come to a similar conclusion once you have a few hunts under your belt and can see how difficult fame really makes things."
She bit her lip. "I guess so."
The conversation tapered off into an awkward silence, until Vhetin settled himself more securely into his seat and said, "You can go ahead and get some rest, Jay. I'll take over up here."
"You sure?"
He nodded. "We won't arrive for another hour or so. I'll call you when we're there. Or if we get another message from our mysterious competitor."
"All right." Jay nodded, thanked him, and left the cockpit. The door slid shut with a hiss behind her, and Vhetin turned his gaze back to the strange, warped tunnel of hyperspace.
His partner was definitely a perceptive one. It was true that their competitor wasn't Fett, but with a score this big, it wouldn't take much for him to catch word of it. And while there was no guarantee he would take the contract, there was a whole score of other nasty characters who would jump at the opportunity.
Mandalorians made up less than ten percent of the galaxy-wide hunting population. That meant that less than ten percent of hunters shared a code of honor prohibiting them from hurting or killing their fellows. Most hunters would be more than happy to gun one of their compatriots down for a chance at a bounty like this. And when the stakes got that high, simple bounty hunting missions quickly became battlegrounds.
He sighed and set his HUD to wake him in an hour, well before their arrival time. He settled back further in his seat, removing his helmet and settling his hands behind his head. He let out a long breath and closed his eyes, letting the sounds of the ship's engines soothe his mind and carry him into the realm of dark, dreamless sleep.
Jay heard the door hiss shut behind her and quickly made her way towards the crew's quarters that served as her cabin, still mulling over her conversation with Vhetin.
The Mandalorian's nonchalance genuinely came as a surprise. She saw her friend as a lot of things: a cunning warrior, a brilliant bounty hunter, as well as a bit of a role model (though she would never admit it).
But laid-back, lazy, and lacking ambition? Not a chance.
In her experience, Vhetin was an individual with a narrow focus, always keeping his mind on the tasks at hand. And once he set his mind to something there was no stopping him. Once during combat practice, he hadn't even noticed Rame calling his name. His mind had been so focused on their duel that nothing else could penetrate his concentration. And he went about his job in the same manner, pouring every ounce of his waking time into the hunt. That didn't seem like the actions of a layabout with no concern for his reputation or his future.
But then again, she'd known him for only a few months now. How could she expect to understand him when she barely knew the first thing about him? He was still a mystery to her, a mystery she didn't think she would ever even understand, let alone solve.
Even after all this time, she realized, I still don't really know anything about the man lurking behind that helmet. He's as much a stranger now as when I first met him on Corulag.
She sighed and resigned herself to the knowledge that he probably would remain a stranger for as long as she knew him. She was familiar with his type, after all. He didn't like to part with personal information under any circumstances and made it a point of personal pride to keep everyone at arms' length. One of her fellow navy pilots, a surly man named Oppan, had been the same way and she had never managed to crack the man's shell even after years of flying together.
Vhetin, she was beginning to realize, hid his true self even deeper. He was a mystery now and would remain so for as long as he saw fit.
But then, as she keyed open the door to the crew's quarters, an idea flitted into her mind. A very intriguing idea. A very dangerous idea.
She quickly shook it away and chided herself for even thinking about it. But then she stopped. And she thought about it some more. Her stomach churned, uncomfortable even allowing her mind to wander to such places. But the more she thought about it, the more the idea became lodged in her mind.
She glanced over her shoulder. Then she rubbed her chin. Then she turned away and headed back up the hall, stepping lightly, almost sneaking.
Void's door control consoles weren't code-locked. Once you deciphered the pattern of the strange Mandalorian runes that adorned the keypads, they weren't hard to understand. Vhetin had once told her that internal security measures were instead linked to his helmet, where he could remotely lock down every door in the ship in case of an intruder. The knowledge made Jay very nervous, because that's exactly what she was about to be.
Every instinct in her body screamed at her to stop and head back to her room, but her curiosity had always been stronger than her sense of reason. And besides, Vhetin wasn't exactly the chattiest being in the galaxy. How else was she going to find out more about him?
It's not spying, she thought, butterflies racing through her stomach. It's… intelligence-gathering. That's what he'd call it. Right?
She paused at the first door down from the cockpit and bit her lower lip nervously, her finger hovering over the opening key. Guilt still crawled through her, but she knew she would never forgive herself if she passed up an opportunity to know more about her mysterious black-clad compatriot.
All right, she thought to herself. I have now completely lost my mind. Sneaking into Vhetin's quarters is the worst idea in a very long history of bad ideas. If I'm caught, it will destroy every ounce of trust that's formed between us.
But how could they ever be partners if Vhetin didn't trust her? He hadn't told her anything about himself, yet he expected her to place her life in his hands? This wasn't spying. If anything, it was simply leveling the playing field.
She still grimaced and bounced nervously on the balls of her feet. She didn't want to invade Vhetin's privacy, but her curiosity would never let her rest until she knew. Mysteries had always irritated her, even from a young age. And mysterious people were just agonizing!
She acted before self-doubt could bring her to hesitate more and keyed open the door to the captain's quarters, Vhetin's personal room. The door slid open with a metallic scrape and the dark room within seemed to beckon her inside. She glanced up and down the hall once more, then quickly slipped through and let the door seal shut behind her.
The closing door threw the room into darkness. She didn't risk switching on the power, as it would probably register on the energy readout panel in the cockpit. Instead, she pulled a tiny glowrod from her belt and clicked it on. The rod shed sickly greenish light across the room, spilling it over the area in a wide arc of illumination. It was eerie, but she could at least see now.
The room she saw within was much like she remembered from when she'd spied on Vhetin and Rame that first day aboard. A single neatly-made cot was anchored into the bulkhead to her left, near a durasteel desk that was secured to the wall. A small piece of twisted, burned shrapnel was resting on top of the cot. Jay passed by it without giving it much more than a cursory glance. It was probably just trash anyway.
The desk was covered in flimsiplast documents, glowing a dull green in the dim light of her glowrod. She approached the desk and picked one of the sheets up, squinting as she fought to make out the letters:
Bounty: Open
Name: Karman Talenak
Species: Nikto
Sex: Male
Last known location: Ubiqi Province, Ord Mantell
Bounty Originator: Fai'talen Association
Appearance: Typical Nikto with several cranial horns severed and a single missing eye. Usually wears black nerf-hide clothing, which should make him stand out in a crowd. Subject is to be considered armed and dangerous at all times.
Brief: Subject jumped on his weekly bail payment and has since attacked several bondsmen sent to collect the debt. Law enforcement officers dispatched to the scene have met similar fates.
If not for us, he'd still be rotting in jail. Bring him back so we can send him back to prison and get our credits back.
Reward (Imperial standard credits): 9,000 (alive) – 5,000 (dead)
Designation: Class 5 bounty. Caution advised.
She set down the flimsi and picked up another, seeing another bounty information column. She set that one down as well and rooted around the desk a little more. There was a small holo of Brianna, a repair kit for a Mandalorian rocket pack, and a software upgrade component that Jay assumed was for his helmet's HUD. A few tiny rounds of projectile ammunition rolled around as she continued her perusal, and she almost knocked over a plastoid water thermos.
All typical tools of the trade for a bounty hunter as far as she could see. There was nothing that offered a hint of his true identity. She was careful to replace everything exactly as she'd found it; Vhetin was very observant, and would probably notice if anything was out of place.
You're nothing but a sneak, her conscience whispered. He shouldn't trust you at all. What in the hell are you thinking?
She grimaced again and shoved such thoughts away. She didn't enjoy prying into her friend's personal belongings, but she had to know more about him. It was only fair, after all they'd been through together.
Before she could lose her nerve, she moved to the closet on the other side of the cot and pulled open the door. The space within contained three large gray lockers that stretched almost from floor to ceiling, almost like the uniform lockers Jay had used during her navy days. Each container had a transparisteel cover that revealed its contents: two contained sets of black-gray armor identical to the set Vhetin was currently wearing. The third was empty.
It was mildly disturbing to see the armor suits hung up like this. All she'd ever really known of her partner was his armor. He'd poured himself into his gear until his identity and his suit were almost one and the same. Now it was almost as if these lockers contained motionless replicas of Vhetin himself.
Maybe that was why she couldn't find anything about his identity. Jay frowned at the thought, hands still resting on the closet doors. Maybe it was because he had no identity outside the business of bounty hunting? It was a disturbing possibility.
Unlike the doors outside, these lockers were code-locked and code-locked well. Jay couldn't even begin to try and decipher the strange letters on the keypads and she doubted anyone else would be able to either. It didn't come as a surprise; Vhetin obviously found his armor very important. She didn't fancy finding out what happened should one get the code wrong, so she didn't risk touching the glowing control monitors.
She closed the closet doors and backed up, surveying the room once again. The walls revealed nothing overly special. A built-in holo monitor, the screen dimmed to conserve power, currently showed a stylized helmet symbol, rotating slowly. Jay paused and studied it closer, remembering seeing the same symbol in miniature form in the corner of Vhetin's right chestplate. It was a foreshortened helmet insignia, coming to a sharp point along the bottom and split down the center. She didn't have the slightest clue what the symbol was or what it meant, but it seemed to have some importance to Vhetin. It was interesting, but not exactly enlightening.
She moved to a shelf along one wall and studied its contents. There were a few boxes of ammunition, repair kits, and some old military-grade ration packs. The only thing of particular note on the shelf was a small brown book, well-worn and obviously used often at one point. Now, though, it was covered in dust and the cover was falling off.
She paused. Not many people used books these days. Flimisplast reports or datapads had long since rendered the printed word obsolete. So what was this?
She pulled the book down, feeling the rough leather binding under fingers that trembled from adrenaline. She glanced over her shoulder one last time, then opened the book and began leafing through the pages.
It appeared to be an old-fashioned handwritten journal, the likes of which had gone out of style almost a thousand years ago. She opened to a random page and read the date. It was from about seven years ago.
Vhetin would have been around thirteen at the time, she realized with a bit of surprise. Somehow, applying an age to the faceless mercenary seemed impossible. She'd asked him about it once and he'd said that he was about her age, offering no further explanation on the subject. Part of her didn't believe him and the rest hadn't been able to wrap her head around it. Imagining him as such a young boy was even harder.
She shook her head, told herself to stay focused, and began reading the entry. The handwriting was sloppy and slanted, like he was unfamiliar with writing. Several words were misspelled, then crossed out and written again. The writing was… strange. Unfocused. Like the writing of a young child.
Rame put had me work in the feelds fields today. I like it. I like that he's helping me get out of the house. Helping me start working and stop living in the house. I don't want to be a burden anymore. I don't want to be a leech any more.
I didn't like the masheens machines he used. They were too loud. Too big. But they were faster than working with a spayde spade, so I used them anyway. I don't know why, but I don't like machines. All that metal...
Rame says that it isn't surprising after what I went through. I asked what he meant. He won't tell me. He says he'll tell me later. When I'm older. When I'm ready. I guess there's nothing to do but wait.
My Mando'a lessons are going well. The language is tough to understand. Mia told me that most people pick up popoolar popular terms first like greetings and curses before learning the rest. I didn't say a word right the other day. I accidentally called Mia a bad word. Mia said it was an impoovment improvement. Brianna was laughing too hard to say anything.
Brianna... Brianna is confusing. I like her. I think she likes me. But... I don't know. I think she wants to tell me something. Something about what happened to me. But every time I try and ask about it, everyone gets nervoss nervous. Was it something bad? Was it something I did?
I hope I'll find out soon. But don't know if I'll like it when I do.
Jay frowned thoughtfully and flipped forward a few more pages. The next eye-catching entry was dated a little over a year later. Unlike the previous entry, the writing was much neater. There were no crossed out words and the writing was concise and focused.
I've finally decided on my armor's color scheme: I'm going with black. Black symbolizes justice in Mandalorian culture. Devotion to doing the right thing no matter what. I like that. I like it a lot.
Maybe it's because what happened to me was so unjust. A freak accident, they say. A one-in-a-million chance. But then again, I don't know that. Maybe I did deserve it. Hell, maybe I caused it. There's still so much I don't know, it threatens to smother out the few facts that I do know.
I'm still not sure about my secondary armor color. I thought blue would work, but I'm not completely sold. Maybe I'll go with gray. It'll blend well with the black.
Now that I'm officially a full-fledged warrior, I can finally move away from the farm and head up to the bastion in the mountains. Rame keeps teasing me, saying that I'm just trying to get away from him and Mia. That's not true. Not really. It's really just because I don't want to be a burden any longer.
Brianna says she's still considering my offer for her to come and live with me, but I think she's going to say no. I think she could see how uncomfortable I was when I asked. How nervous I was. Maybe I didn't really want her to say yes.
I don't really know how to deal with our relationship. No matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to do the right things. I can't say the right things. And the harder I try, the less successful I am. I have… feelings for her. But it's not what she wants. She wants more. More than I can give her right now, I think. I'm still figuring this all out, trying to figure out how I feel about all of this.
Maybe it will get better with time. But for now, I think it's best if Brianna and I just give each other some space. It'll probably be better if she decides not to come live in the bastion with me. Better for both of us.
Of course Jaing's been spewing stupid jokes almost as fast as his mouth can move. I don't think he knows he's just making things worse, but I think I'm going to have to shoot him before this is done.
Later note: He knows. He's been warned.
Jay flipped further into the book, feeling worse and worse for prying into her partner's personal life. It was wrong, invading his privacy like this. Particularly when the information she was finding was so sensitive.
But, she thought again, I have to know. And there's no other way to get it done.
The next entry was dated about three years before he had rescued her from prison. As she read, she was surprised by the sudden shift in tone. Before, her partner's writings had been open and detailed, garbled and confused at parts. Now the writing was sharp, concise, and all business. All mention of emotions or feelings was gone, replaced by a more curt tone focused on the specifics of his profession.
I'm going to put down a rebellion on Eminor today. Scorched earth procedures. No one is supposed to be left standing.
When I received the orders I was surprised. But only at first. Eminor, a mid-rim world that specializes in exotic herbal extracts used in medicinal fields, had been growing more and more despotic and disorderly for years. There wasn't much else that could have happened. Rebellion was inevitable.
Seven months ago, a small force of Eminorians rose up against the planetary government, infiltrating the capital and managing to smuggle out several shipments of military-grade weapons. This group, under the name of the Alliance of Eminor, was engaging in guerilla warfare on the planet's surface.
Two weeks ago, a platoon of stormtroopers was mobilized and sent to the planet's surface to-
Stormtroopers? Jay thought as she looked up from the journal. What's Vhetin doing working for a company that employs stormtroopers?
She shrugged and continued reading. Maybe he'd explain.
Two weeks ago, a platoon of stormtroopers was mobilized and sent to the planet's surface to quell this upstart rebellion. Contact with them was lost soon after they landed. It seems the rebel Eminorians had adapted to life in the jungle, and the stormtroopers weren't prepared for whatever they found down there.
A scouting team from the capital found the troopers dead a few weeks later, victims of special poisondarts the rebels were fond of using. The scouting team soon after came under attack, and managed to retreat to the capital while sustaining heavy casualties. Things were spiraling out of control.
So, naturally, they turned to me.
Right now, I'm en route to Eminor, and I'm not sure what kind of reception I'll receive when I get there. I do know that it doesn't matter how the locals treat me. My first priority is to get the job done. Lord Vader will not accept failure.
Jay almost dropped the journal in shock. She stopped and reread the sentence three more times before she was satisfied her eyes weren't playing tricks on her.
Lord Vader will not accept failure.
Lord Vader.
Vhetin used to work for Darth Vader? And only a few years before he'd rescued her?
Her heart felt like a cold rock in her stomach, sinking into her gut with a leaden slowness that made her want to suddenly vomit. In the span of a moment her sense of security aboard Void was shattered. She didn't feel safe here any more, and suddenly wanted nothing more than to take the next escape pod and put as much distance between herself and Vhetin as possible.
What if he still had ties to the Empire? What if he was still working for the people who had branded her a traitor and ruined her life? Had he secretly been an Imperial all along? Was he in league with Vader, even after all this time?
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Slow down, she thought. Get a hold of yourself, girl. I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation for this. Vhetin destroyed an entire Imperial prison and kidnapped an Imperial general the very first day you met him. There's no way he's still working for the Empire.
The thought comforted her. He may have had previous ties to Imperial forces, but those were very clearly in the past. He wasn't an Imperial any more, she was sure of it. But Imperial or not, he had a lot of explaining to do.
She returned the book to its place on the shelf, then hurried out of the room and made sure to seal the door behind her. Only when she was safely enclosed back in her own room did she finally let her guard down. She settled herself down on her cot and cradled her head in her hands.
He had explaining to do, yes. But before his explanation even began, she had a lot of explaining to do first.
Kash's hideout, Imperial City
Kassh sat bolt-upright in his seat and cried, "What?!"
Durge fixed him with a blank stare. He folded his massive arms across his chest, expecting Kassh to explain himself. The Twi'lek rubbed his eyes and stood, pacing back and forth as he pondered over this new information. It didn't help. It was still just as unbelievable as ever. "Vhetin went to Sekha?"
"That is what my sources tell me," Durge rumbled. "His ship was docked at Bloody Dawn headquarters for more than an hour. Why is that a problem?"
Kassh stared at his clenched fists and saw that they were trembling. "I-I trusted her!"
"How much does she know of our organization?" the Gen'dai growled, sounding like he already knew the answer.
"Everything!" Kassh shook his head, head-tendrils flapping wildly. "She was the one who sold us this very base!"
This was one contingency he had not prepared for. Sekha... betray him? It didn't seem possible. She had helped him every step of the way as he'd built up the Midnight Ultraviolet syndicate. She had provided men, materiel, credits, weapons…
But he'd betrayed her first, he knew, when he'd moved in on her territories. When he'd begun bribing her men and forcefully seizing her businesses. Sekha was cunning and merciless, and Kassh should have known she would not tolerate active competition. She was predictable that way. Still, he thought their history would curb some of her wrath and spare him from such drastic reprisal. Without her…
He rubbed his aching temples. "Did she tell him anything?"
Durge paused for a moment, probably reviewing his earlier conversation with his contact. After a time, he thundered, "Uncertain. Uitani was only their guide to Sekha's sanctum. He was ordered to leave as soon as he brought them to her. He viewed them leaving through the guard post later, but was unable to tell where they were headed next. My other contacts state that Void left dock at the local spaceport almost two days ago and immediately departed from the system. I do not know their final destination."
Kassh took a deep breath. "That is,,, good news. If Sekha had given away my position, he'd already be on my doorstep. If he hasn't tracked me down by now, she must have refused him help."
"Unless he is using a mode of transport other than his ship."
Kassh shot him a glare, but considered the possibility. As a bounty hunter himself, Durge's mind worked in much the same way as Vhetin's. It was one of the reasons Kassh continued to employ him.
"How does this change your plans?" Durge grunted. "You said he would find us in time, and it seems he has. He is drawing closer with each passing day."
"Yes..." Kassh said quietly. "Yes."
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then turned to his enforcer. "Durge," he said. "I want you to stay here and wait for Vhetin to find you. When he appears, kill him as slowly and painfully as you know how."
"It will be my pleasure." The Gen'dai bowed. "And where will you be?"
"Sekha's treachery has forced me to change my plans. I will travel to my base on Tatooine. Without Bloody Dawn as an ally, our operations on Coruscant are compromised and under direct threat from her organization. Send the order: all Midnight Ultraviolet operatives are to evacuate and regroup on at our bases on Tatooine. We are leaving Imperial City."
He turned away and left the room. Before he left, he made sure to call over his shoulder in parting. "Make sure Vhetin does not leave this base alive, Durge. Or I'll make your life so painful, you'll beg me to fly you into another sun."
With a deep rumble of engine wash Void settled down onto a floating landing pad, suspended by repulsor engines several thousand feet above the ground. Skyscrapers stretched thousands more feet above the platform, and ships and speeders of every make and model darted through the congested skylanes.
Coruscant. Political center of the universe, home to billions of beings, spatial coordinates 0-0-0.
That was what the nav computer said as Vhetin keyed through the info page. A small smile played across his lips as he thought, What they leave out is all the important information. Like the fact that Triple Zero's also home to Bloody Dawn headquarters, Black Sun supply depots, a whole host of spice cartels, as well as Midnight Ultraviolet's base of operations. They don't mention the fact that drug lords and mutants rule the underworld and that there are parts of the city so deep the Empire doesn't even know they exist.
He looked out the front viewport and narrowed his eyes at the sprawling cityscape that stretched across the horizon.
Kassh is out there somewhere, he thought. As well as the woman who sent us that message. They both think that I'm not enough of a threat to deal with... and I'm going to show them just how wrong they are.
The door to the cockpit hissed open and Jay stuck her head through.
"Hey," she said. "Tal Wam's almost ready to jump ship."
"All right," he said, standing from his seat. "I'll be right there."
He took one last look out the viewport and thought, This may very well be the biggest hunt of my career. And I don't even know half of what the hell is going on.
He sighed, then followed Jay out onto the landing pad. Tal Wam was staring around with his large red eyes, clutching at the collapsible stun prod that he had refused to set down since Rhen Var. He looked afraid and out of place, but Vhetin was beginning to think that was just his usual expression.
Jay was already talking to the spindly-looking Duros. "Are you sure you'll be all right on your own?"
"Yep yep." He nodded quickly. "I know way around Coruscant. Know my way around-"
She held up a hand with a small smile. "That's all right. I know what you're trying to say."
Vhetin stepped forward, folding his arms across his chest. Tal Wam stared at him and held out his stun prod with a trembling hand.
"You... you want weapon back? Back weapon want?"
"Keep it. It's brought you more luck than it ever brought me."
He hesitated, then reluctantly put a hand on Wam's shoulder. "Thanks for your help. We… couldn't have made it away from Rhen Var without you."
It was a lie, of course. But for some reason he wanted to part on good terms with the eccentric young alien.
"My-my was a prisoner half the time!" Tal Wam cried. "Prisoner I was a half time!"
"Is it just me," Jay murmured, almost too quiet to hear, "or did his speech problem just get worse over time?"
"T-thank you," Tal Wam went on. "You thank. Life is become very interesting since meeting you. Interesting life become meeting very-"
"Why don't you just get on that speeder bus," Vhetin said, nodding toward the vehicle parked on the other end of the landing pad, "and see how much more interesting life gets?"
The Duros nodded slowly. "Yep yep. Yep yep."
He scurried toward the speeder bus, muttering to himself the whole way. As the bus rumbled into the air and began its flight away, Jay shook her head. "That was without doubt the weirdest Duros I've ever met."
"You just wait. You're going to meet some even weirder people before your career is over. That's a promise."
As they headed back for the ship, Jay asked, "Was that true? About how we wouldn't have made it through Rhen Var without him?"
"In a manner. Everyone pulls their own weight in a bad situation," he replied, carefully measuring his words, "whether they know it or not. Tal Wam guarded the prisoners and helped me when I had hypothermia, not to mention provided us with a way to Pollamo and Kokr. He may have been annoying as hell, but he was helpful. Marginally."
"But… we could have done it without him."
"Of course. But even bounty hunters need a helping hand now and again."
Jay watched the speeder soar off into the sky. She rested her hands on her hips as the bus entered the skylanes and disappeared from sight. "I hope he stays safe."
"His fate is out of our hands. We need to stay focused on our own objective."
"And you still think Sekha's going to part with her information?"
"Only one way to find out," Vhetin said, striding up the entrance ramp into his ship. "Let's go claim our reward."
Bloody Dawn Headquarters
"Marvelous!" Sekha cried in delight. She clapped her hands together, circling the two bounties like a gurr-cat stalking its prey. Her eyes sparkled with a malevolent light as she took in the two, kneeling on the floor in front of her with their arms cuffed behind their backs. "Just marvelous!"
She stepped up to Vhetin and threw her arms around him. "Oh, I've been waiting ages for someone to come along and bring these two traitors to justice! You really are the best bounty hunter in the galaxy!"
Vhetin let her hug him, then respectfully pushed her away. "Keep your flattery for someone who'll fall for it, Sekha. I'd prefer the cash and the information you promised us."
"Of course, of course," she gushed, still staring at Pollamo and Kokr with gleaming eyes. "Uitani's replacement will deal with the money transaction."
The Twi'lek swaggered up to Kokr and brushed a long finger down the side of his craggy, dirty face. The human scowled and pulled his face away, spitting at Sekha's feet. Instantly, the happy look in her eyes died, replaced with an ice-cold glare that made Kokr's face go pale.
"And to think," she whispered, shaking her head, "that my own majordomo Uitani was selling the secrets of my organization... I am truly shocked. But he is no longer a problem. And now, neither are you."
Pollamo was shivering so hard it made his proboscis flap back and forth. "W-what are you going to do?"
"With you two?' Sekha's lips curled into a wicked grin and she quirked his eyebrows up suggestively. "Oh, let's not talk about that right now. Business before pleasure, and all that."
Something told Jay that the next few hours were going to be a lot more pleasurable for Sekha than for the two criminals kneeling at her feet. The thought of their fate churned her stomach, and the large red-carpeted room suddenly felt as if it were already spattered with blood.
But she wisely kept her mouth shut, waiting for Vhetin to authorize the credit transaction. Months ago, he and Jaing Skirata had hacked into the galactic banking network and worked up a hidden credit account for her. No one but Jay knew the special code to access it, and only she, Vhetin, and Jaing even knew of its existence. If everything went according to plan, half of the money for the bounty would go to Vhetin, half would go to her.
She wouldn't lie and say she wasn't anticipating the credit surge. It would be nice to have more than single digits in savings. She wouldn't need to rely on the charity of others once she returned to Mandalore. She could finally begin caring for herself rather than being the helpless rookie in town.
Vhetin nodded to the Sekha's new head majordomo – what had happened to the traitor Uitani, Jay couldn't even begin to guess – and typed in his credit account's primary transaction number. He tapped in a few more commands to hide the transaction's path, then handed the datapad to Jay.
Jay tapped in the ten-digit transaction code for her account, then watched as the credit balance climbed from almost zero to a little over three and a half thousand credits. A warm feeling of satisfaction washed over her. She had done her part, had gotten paid, and now her part in this little escapade was done. There was a nice sense of closure in that.
"The money was only half the deal," Vhetin was saying, his hands on his hips. "You still haven't fulfilled your half of the bargain."
Sekha reluctantly nodded and motioned for her servants to take Pollamo and Kokr away.
"No!" Kokr roared as he was dragged out of the room. He struggled against servants who were pulling away, but was ultimately unsuccessful. He was bound at the wrists and ankles with stun cuffs, after all. "No, damn it! I'll get you for this, Vhetin! I promise you! I'll make you pay!"
Vhetin responded by throwing the bearded human a lazy salute.
As soon as the bounties were tugged out of sight, Sekha settled back against her couch and sighed. "All right then. It's time for me to keep my end of the deal, I suppose."
It's about damn time, Jay thought.
The countess, meanwhile, frowned and waved a delicately-tattooed hand at the hunter standing before her. "I'll tell you what I know. But don't look so cranky for Force's sake. You're so very attractive when you're left at a smolder."
Vhetin, surely against his better judgment, snorted in amusement. "All right, consider me smoldering. Now talk. I want to know everything you have on Kassh."
"Not that I'm an expert on the subject," the crime lord said slowly, "but Kassh is holed up in an old oxygen-pumping station exactly twenty-point-three-eight kilometers southeast of the atmospheric enhancement sector of the Underworld. The facility has twin anti-personnel security turrets, kath hound pens that can be opened at the push of a button, floodlight towers, and automated perimeter defenses designed by Aratech Security Systems. You shouldn't find them too hard to get past."
"What about manpower?" Vhetin asked, tipping his head slightly to one side.
"Again, not that I'd really know anything about this, but he has fifteen hired thugs at the base and another ten on patrols that go out every ten minutes. Shift changes are every six hours, and that's usually when the defenses are powered down so everyone off-duty can go home. Apart from that he has his maniac brother, Killk, a couple ex-special forces thugs as bodyguards, and a huge Gen'dai enforcer that follows him around everywhere he goes. Bigger muscles than even you, Cin."
She flashed them a dazzling — and no doubt insincere — smile and batted her eyelashes at Vhetin.
Gen'dai? The name rang a very distant bell, though Jay couldn't quite put her finger on where she'd heard it before. Whatever it was, it didn't sound like good news. The way Vhetin stiffened at the revelation only made that all the clearer.
But her partner didn't show any other signs of surprise. He seemed to ponder over the information for a time before he spoke again. "And you have all this on good authority?"
Sekha shrugged, tossing her lekku back over the arm of the luxurious couch. "If I can trust my own spies. But then again, after dealing with the Bearded Wonder back there I'm forced to question whether I can do that anymore."
She wriggled her hips slightly, shifting to a more comfortable position, and shot him a smug smirk. Vhetin looked hesitant to accept the information at face value – particularly considering just who was giving them the information – but he knew as well as Jay did that they had no other choice. Sekha was far from far from trustworthy, but she was the best lead they had.
"If your spies are wrong," he eventually said, "you can expect me to be back here very soon. And I won't be as friendly as I've been in the past."
Sekha grinned and playfully traced her fingers along the bared skin of one thigh. "I look forward to it. Righteous indignation becomes you, Cin."
"I think we've spent enough time here. Ret'urcye mhi, Sekha."
Sekha waved to them as they left, a knowing smile on her beautiful face. "Good-bye," she called to them as they left. "The Cooperative's doors are always open to you. Stop in again soon, will you?"
Yeah, Jay thought. The moment Mustafar freezes over, I'm sure we'll come calling.
Then the huge reinforced door slammed shut once more, and the crime lord was cut off from them. Several loud, clanking booms suggested that several high-powered locks had slid into place. Sekha was obviously taking her security far more seriously while her molehunt was ongoing. The Twi'lek guards quickly took command once more and herded them away from the crime lord's inner sanctum.
"So..." Jay said as they headed back toward the landing pad. "What's the plan now?"
"What else?" Vhetin replied. "We're going to follow up on the information we have. Sekha's spies gave her detailed intel about Kassh's hidden base. It's the best and the freshest trail we've got."
"Yeah, but it also sounds like there are pretty formidable defenses. Patrols, turrets, kriffing kath hounds. I hope you have a plan."
"Not as of yet," he admitted. "With everything that's happened, I'm kind of flying by the seat of my kama at the moment. But that will change as soon as we recon the area and confirm that we have solid intel backing us up. You'll see."
They passed back into Bloody Dawn's massive atrium, where they retrieved their weapons and headed for the exit. As they passed by the huge interior park, Jay watched the fountains spray shimmering showers of water into the air. It was a beautiful sight, but knowing that the entire complex belonged to a dangerous criminal cartel spoiled the splendor of it all. She shook her head and moved on. "Maybe Tarron will be able to tell us more."
"That's what I'm hoping. His talent for ferreting out intel has been the saving grace of more than one hunt. Besides, we still have our mysterious competitor to worry about."
"Do you think our Journeyman Protector found anything on her?"
Vhetin chuckled as they left the indoor park behind. Void lay ahead, waiting on the landing pad outside. "Are you kidding? My guess is he's got the woman's name, military service record, pilot's license, the address of her summer home, and the name of her pet gizka."
"Really?" Jay said slowly, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "If that's the case, then let's go see what he's found."
As they walked, she leaned closer and added, "But ten credits says he hasn't been able to find anything."
"Twenty says otherwise," he replied without missing a beat.
