Chapter 28 – Pass the Popcorn

[Author's Note: I want to dedicate this chapter to Nerica, without whose support and encouragement it would have taken easily another week to finish. If you haven't already done so, check out the adventures of her smuggler, Captain Liling!]

You'd think they had known each other all their lives, Risha reflected as she watched Vacy and Corso taking on the gang. A fair bit of the crowd had cleared out, though there were still quite a few hangers-on at the edges of the room, watching the commotion. There was a rodian who'd been making his way around the edge of the room, and Risha was pretty sure he'd staked odds and was taking bets on the fight.

Corso had the size and build of a more formidable opponent – his right cross was particularly notable – but while Vacy might not be able to match him in strength, she more than made up for it in sheer viciousness. Risha winced when she saw the mirialan get one of the mooks by the pinkie and then spin him into a hammerlock and yank. The snap wasn't loud, but the shriek of agony that immediately followed certainly was.

The blonde woman further down seemed to be a capable fighter as well. She moved with unnerving speed and grace, making even Vacy and Corso seem clumsy by comparison. As she lifted effortlessly into a spinning kick that connected solidly with one goon's jaw, her robe flowed behind her, and Risha noticed the dull gleam of a lightsaber hilt hanging from the woman's belt.

The local ale that Vacy had chosen was strong in more ways than one. Risha made a face as she drained the last from her mug, then looked up at Bowdaar. "You want this one?"

But the wookiee shook his head. "I prefer to keep my head at least somewhat clear. What I have already had is quite sufficient."

Risha lifted a shoulder and picked up the final mug of ale. "Suit yourself," she replied, setting her jaw and taking a long swallow. She didn't so much as flinch when one of the nikto thugs stumbled over toward her, nor when he crashed through a chair to land at her feet. However, when Bowdaar leaned over, grabbed the thug by his belt, and flung him across the room to crash into a corner booth and slump upside-down in one of the seats, she allowed herself a fraction of a smile. "Nice trajectory," she said with an appreciative nod.

Bowdaar lifted his shoulders. "I do the best I can with what I have," he explained. "Had we been outside, it would be interesting to see whether I could land one on a rooftop."

"And here I thought you were against violence," she chuckled softly.

The wookiee chuffed. "It would not be violence exactly." At Risha's arched brow, he shook his head. "Simply a test of strength and agility."

Risha rolled her eyes, grinning fully at that. "Right, just out of personal curiosity, that's all."

Bowdaar looked back at her, his own expression placid. "Of course."

Another of the thugs was shoved over toward them. Noticing Risha, he ran a hand over his craggy jaw. However, before he could attempt anything suave, he heard a low, dangerous rumble from behind him. Turning slowly around, he looked up… and up… and up… right at the bared fangs of an enormous wookiee. He had just enough time to gurgle something unintelligible before his knees wobbled and he dropped to the floor in a faint.

Gesturing to the unconscious would-be assailant, Bowdaar rumbled contentedly. "There, you see? Violence is often less necessary than most people believe."

The mooks were trying to fight at least a little bit smarter by this point. One of them had gotten Corso focused on him so that the others could concentrate on taking Vacy out of the fight. She wriggled and squirmed, but with two of them keeping her pinned against the bar, another pair had no difficulty pounding her face in. It would have been an excellent plan, except that she did finally yelp in pain when one of them split her lip open. That drew Corso's attention, and when he saw the four of them teamed up on her his eyes narrowed and his whole body tensed for a fraction of a second.

Risha blinked in surprise. The hardened mercenary she saw before her was nothing like the bashful, easygoing farm boy she thought she'd known so well. She crossed her ankles delicately and leaned forward a bit, watching with renewed interest.

Corso reached up, grabbed his attacker by the chin, and smashed his head into the bar a good half-dozen times. By the second smash, the mook had quit fighting and was flailing instead; by the sixth, he was limp as a greasy dishrag. When Corso let him go he tumbled to the floor without so much as a whimper.

With a muted snarl, Corso turned to the nikto who had Vacy by one arm. He reached up, fingers digging underneath the collar of the man's jacket, and one strong yank pulled him away from the smuggler. "Now, see, that's just unmannerly," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

As soon as she had the room to move, Vacy used it. She grabbed the arm of the mook on her other side and just as one of the ones in front of her was about to punch her again, she dropped to the floor, yanking hard. They were all much larger than her, so the one she had by the arm went over her head without too much trouble (well, for her, anyway). The one who'd been in front of her ended up smashing his fist into the bar and howling in rage and pain.

Cursing as he yanked his injured hand back, he reached down with his other hand and pulled out a blaster pistol.

Risha leaned forward a bit more, frowning a touch. Vacy was on the floor, grappling the fellow she'd taken down, and chances were she couldn't see what was going on. Corso was fighting two of them and seemed pretty focused as well. Sighing in frustration, she took a breath, downed the rest of the ale and somehow managed not to shudder at the thick bitterness of it. She walked over to the gunman as he aimed, and without so much as waiting for him to turn around, she lifted her mug and slammed it against the back of his head. His chin jerked forward and he swayed, and then crumpled to the floor.

When she looked up, Risha noticed that both Vacy and Corso were staring openly at her. "What?" she said, tilting her nose up ever so slightly. "I was bored."

"That's what I love about you, Teacup," Vacy said. She stood, groaning a little. "You keep things interesting." She laughed, but abruptly stopped and looked at the mug Risha was still holding. "Hey. Wait a minute – that was my drink!"

Corso draped an arm around Vacy's shoulders. "Actually, Captain, that was s'posta be my drink, if you recall." He grinned down at her. "Serves ya right, I say."

She looked up at him, brows pulled together, lower lip sticking out in the most adorable pout she could manage. "Whose side are you on anyway, Riggs?"

His grin faded instantly and he let go of her shoulders. "Oo, ouch," he said softly, opening a pouch at his hip. "Here, Vee, I've got somethin' for that cut. Picked it up on my way back to the ship… here." He pulled his gloves off and dropped them, then carefully twisted the cap off of a small tube and squeezed a dab of bluey-green gel onto the tip of one finger. "It might sting a bit, but just at first, okay?"

"All right," she whispered back. Her gaze locked with his as he reached out and gently brushed the gel against her lips.

"There," he said. He didn't move away, though. "That feel any better?"

Vacy nodded. "Yeah," she replied, and for some reason her voice was a little hoarse. "Thanks. That helps."

"Are the two of you finished playing doctor?" Risha interjected wryly, folding her arms. "I'd like to remind you that we actually have a job to do here."

Clearing her throat, Vacy stepped away from Corso, her cheeks rather dark. "As I recall," she retorted, "it was your idea to get off the ship and have a bit of fun."

Risha's lips pulled up into a smirk and she very obviously glanced from Vacy to Corso and then back. "This wasn't exactly what I had in mind." As the smuggler began to sputter her objections, Risha added ever-so-innocently, "After all, violence is often less necessary than most people believe."