Disclaimer: I own Star Wars. In fact, I have Han Solo and Atton Rand bound and gagged in my closet.
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Canderous let out a sharp sigh as he pounded on the door to the starboard dormitory. "Open this damn door this instant!" Silence greeted him from the other side. He ran his hand through his grayed hair and growled. "I know you can hear me," he shouted.
When there was still no response, he kicked the door and stalked off, muttering Mandalorian curses as he went. Bastila stood gracefully from her meditation pose when she heard his approach, and smoothed her robes. "They still will not open the door?"
Canderous glared at her, and muttered something about foul Jedi as he stormed to the cargo hold. Bastila sighed softly at the form of his retreating back, and turned to Zalbaar, who was reclining on the couch. "I much prefer the serenity of Dantooine."
Zalbaar growled out a response, and stood abruptly, heading for the galley. Bastila toyed with the idea of following him to monitor his food consumption, but quickly decided not to. She liked her limbs intact. Tired of meditation, she rubbed a weary hand over her face and headed for the cockpit, hoping that Carth would be better company.
"Carth?" she called out softly, knocking on the door.
"Who's there?" Came the faint response from within.
"Bastila. May I enter?"
There was silence for a few seconds. "Sure."
Bastila opened the door slowly, and winced when she saw the state that Carth was in. Empty Corellian Fire whiskey bottles littered the floor, and Carth's clothes were rumpled, his eyes glassy.
"Ami come out yet?" Bastila frowned when she saw how much effort it took on the man's part not to slur his words, and the frown deepened when she realized who he was asking about.
"No, and neither has Mission. They are in grieving, Carth. They need time."
"I knows all aboush greivin.' Und I never locked myshelf in a room like thash," he swung his hand in a wide arc, and Bastila stepped back, her nose scrunching with distaste. He was no longer trying to control his words; he was wasted.
"Listen to me, Carth. You are going to drink a very large cup of caffa, you are going to get something besides alcohol in your stomach, and you are going to sober up. Do you understand?"
"Why?"
There is no emotion, there is peace… "Because once you're sober, you're going to convince Aminta Jae to leave the dormitory, and also force her to eat."
Carth was silent for a few moments. "Wheresh dat usesless droid thingy?" he asked, his arms flailing again. Bastila grimaced, and stepped farther away.
"In the control room."
"Shend 'im to me?"
"Of course," Bastila bowed politely, and made a hasty exit from the room. So this is why Jedi Masters aren't supposed to drink. She shivered slightly, and winced when she heard Carth begin to sing a drunken tune.
"T-3? Carth needs assistance," Bastila instructed the little droid before heading back to the common room to meditate. The dangers of her own mind were far easier to face than her crewmates.
———————————————-
Carth winced slightly at the ruckus that T-3 made as he rolled towards the dormitories. "Can you move any quieter?"
"Beep dwoo!"
"Don't criticize me on my drinking habits!" Carth shouted, and then winced at the sound. "Fracking hangovers," he muttered under his breath, and the droid let out a series of beeps which sounded suspiciously like a laugh. "Fracking droids."
"Beep doo beep!"
"You aren't a human, buddy boy. So, you don't get any respect out of me."
"Beep dwoo doo." T-3 turned and started rolling in the opposite direction.
"Hey, hey! I didn't mean it like that. Come on, I need your help here!" Carth exclaimed to the droid's retreating figure.
"Beep beep."
"I'm hung over, okay? I wasn't thinking properly," Carth attempted to explain himself, and the droid headed back over to him.
"Beep beep."
"I'll drink whenever I feel like it, trash compactor." T-3 started in the opposite direction again, and Carth groaned.
"Come on! I didn't mean it like it sounded!" Carth pleaded, and T-3 turned to face him again.
"Beep."
"Okay, okay. No more talking, I promise!"
"Dwoo?"
"Dammit all, my word is golden! Now get over here."
T-3 whirred happily, and rolled in the direction of the dormitories again, Carth wincing at each sound that the droid made as it clunked along.
When they reached the door, Carth knocked with trepidation. "Ami?" Silence greeted him. "Ami, honey, can you open the door?" Nothing.
"Look, Ami… I know what you're going through, okay? Will you please open the door?" Silence. Okay, I guess not. "Ami? Sweetie? Have you eaten anything yet?" A thud sounded at the door when she threw something at it. Carth grinned. He knew that would get a reaction.
"Ami, even if you don't open the door, I'm coming in anyway. Will you please just open it?" Once again, silence greeted him. Carth sighed, and turned to T-3. "Okay, slice it."
T-3's gears whirred as he made quick work of the lock, and Carth spared the droid a smile when it was finished.
"Beep doo?"
"Fine, fine. Thanks. Now, scram." T-3 beeped indignantly, but headed away as Carth instructed. Carth turned his attention to the now unlocked door, and slowly slid it open. "Ami?" he called out softly.
"Bastard."
Carth grinned, and looked for a light switch. "You turn on the lights, and I will enjoy murdering you," she threatened from her bunk, and Carth ceased his efforts.
"I brought you a ration bar." He gingerly sat at the edge of her bunk, and winced slightly when she rolled over, her back facing him. He quickly glanced over to the bunk that Mission was situated in, and let out a sigh of relief when he saw that she was sleeping. "I'm going to tell you straight, Beautiful. I'm not doing much better than you are. I've got a hell of a hangover from drinking a bottle too many of Whiskey."
Aminta scooted further to the wall, and Carth sighed. "Don't do this," he pleaded. "I'm your friend, I care about your well being." he gently touched her temple. "Let me in there."
Aminta shook her head, and buried herself deeper beneath the covers. Carth scrubbed a hand over his face wearily, and then let out a deep sigh. "I know you loved those kids." Aminta let out a strangled cry, and Carth winced. Gently, he rubbed his thumb over her shoulder, and he felt her muscles tense in response.
"I lost a kid too. His name was…is…Dustil. Wasn't around much when he was young, but what can I do now? I found my wife on Telos; got there just in time to see her before she died. But I never did find him. I searched everywhere; no one had seen him. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, and by the time a year and a half rolled by, I had to face facts. I wasn't going to see him again."
Aminta rolled over to face him, and Carth winced. She wasn't a pretty crier. Her face was mottled and red, her eyes swollen and glassy. Tears filled her eyes again, and she reached a hand up to brush a stubborn lock of hair from his face. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and Carth gripped her hand tightly.
"So am I. But I didn't tell you for sympathy. I just wanted you to know that you're not alone in this. You can talk to me about it."
Aminta was quiet for a few moments, and then she sighed softly. "Thanks."
Carth grinned and brushed his thumb over her cheek. "Don't mention it. But I do need you to eat this," he thrust the ration bar in her hand.
Aminta glared at him. "I. Am. Not. Hungry."
"You. Will. Eat." He opened the wrapper and pushed the bar to her lips. "Eat it on your own, or I'll shove it down your throat," he warned her, and Aminta snatched the bar out of his grasp.
"Fine," she muttered as she took a few small nibbles off of the end, grimacing in distaste. "This is disgusting."
"You didn't eat the real food that we had on Taris, so you're just going to be stuck eating these until we get to Dantooine." He watched with slight amusement as Aminta's face screwed up. "I'm not leaving until you've finished the entire thing."
"Stop treating me like a child, Carth."
"I will when you stop acting like one."
"Touché." Aminta pinched the end of her nose with her fingers as she took another bite, hoping that the trick would work. She shifted nervously on the bed, and turned away from Carth. "You're making me uncomfortable," she muttered between mouthfuls, and Carth laughed.
"So, talk to me. That way it won't feel like I'm staring at you."
"About what?" she asked with some trepidation, and Carth smiled.
"Your choice."
Aminta took another bite of the ration bar and swallowed it slowly. "What was your wife like?" she asked after a few moments, and Carth coughed.
"Excuse me?"
Aminta turned her head away and mumbled an apology before quickly filling her mouth with food so that she wouldn't have to say anything further. Once the shock had faded away, Carth cleared his throat. "She was very quiet," he said softly after a period of silence.
Aminta's head jerked up, and she looked back over at him with her brows furrowed. "But she was also very stubborn. The woman had a will like durasteel, and even though she was shy by nature she always made her opinion known. Rather loudly around me," he gave a fond, reminiscent smile.
"She was also one of the messiest people that I have ever met; she left wet towels on the bed, didn't bother changing the bag to the trash can… She managed to kill every single plant in the apartment. How, I'll never know," he chuckled slightly, and his eyes began to glisten.
"And she could never get along with technology. The droids were always a mess of circuits that I had to fix up, and she refused to learn how to properly control the holovision. Because she couldn't do it, she didn't want me to either. Whenever a game would be on, she'd throw a book at me and tell me to enhance my vocabulary… she…she was…" Carth attempted a laugh, and brushed away a tear.
Aminta smiled slightly, and rested a hand on his shoulder. "She sounds like she would have been a good friend of mine."
Carth gave a watery laugh. "Yeah. She probably would have."
Silence gripped the room once again. "I was married, once upon a time," she told him after a few minutes with a small smile. "He was a good man, and a great smuggler… although you usually wouldn't peg a smuggler as a 'good- guy' type."
"Is he the guy from your locket?" Carth asked after a brief moment, and Aminta shook her head ruefully.
"I'm not going to ask how you know that… but, yeah."
"Mission thinks that he's hot," Carth divulged, and Aminta laughed.
"That he was." She grew silent for a minute, and then tossed him the empty ration bar wrapper. "Could you get me something to drink?"
Carth raised a brow. "Caffa?"
"Nah, liquor. I don't care what it is, but make sure that it's strong." She wiped her hands off on the blankets, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Are you sure you should be having that right now?"
"This from the guy that walked in here hung over," she muttered, rolling her eyes.
"Tarisian Ale sound okay?"
"It's potent, isn't it?"
————————————————-
Canderous sat crouched on the ground, covered from head to toe in grease and mechanical fluids. "Wrench," he called out gruffly over his shoulder, and T-3 beeped as he handed the Mandalorian what he had ordered.
Canderous ducked back under, and continued to work on the Swoop Bike. The thing was rusted and old… Davik's father probably rode it when he was a teenager. Needless to say, a lot of parts, time, and patience was needed to make it useful. It proved to be a perfect distraction from his foul-tempered crew members.
"Nice bike," Canderous pulled himself out from under the swoop, and grinned up at Aminta. "Well, well. Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence."
"Shove it, Canderous." Aminta stripped off her jacket and over shirt, and draped them over a workbench. "You've got yourself a real mess here," she gestured towards the bike as she grabbed a tool for herself.
"But it's my mess," Canderous replied, standing and blocking her access to the bike.
"Well, now it's our mess," she retorted with a smirk. "I've been around my fair share of machines, I'll have you know."
"I like to work alone."
"So I've noticed," she replied, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards. "But, unfortunately, you're not going to work along on this."
"I was here first."
"Now you sound childish."
"Now you sound like Republic."
Aminta grinned, and crouched down onto the ground, poking around the bike. "The engine needs some work. Looks like it's at least half a century old."
"It won't keep up with the other bikes if we were ever going to race it," he agreed, kneeling beside her.
"We?" Aminta smiled in self-satisfaction.
"It's easier to give into you than to fight you," Canderous replied with a shrug. "So, what do you think we should do with it?"
Aminta furrowed her brow. "There's some upgrades in the workbench that we could try to install; we'll probably need to switch out the gas tank too. This one's pretty ineffective."
Canderous nodded. "And then, of course, there's the fact that the entire system is covered in rust and is pretty much ineffective."
"Looks like we got our work cut out for us," Aminta grinned.
"It'll be an interesting challenge. Why don't you yank out that engine and start on the upgrades while I tighten up the gears and get rid of the rust?"
Aminta nodded, and carefully extracted the engine from the bike, setting the aged thing down on the workbench. "So, Canderous, you were in the Mandalorian Wars, right?" She dug through the shelves, pulling out spare parts and system upgrades that she could use.
"What Mandalorian wasn't?" he replied gruffly.
Aminta grinned and shook her head. "You got any stories you could tell me? It'd help pass the time." Her grin broadened as she opened the next drawer, and found that it was full of engine parts. "Jackpot," she mumbled under her breath.
"Didn't think you'd be too interested in gory battle tales," he noted with amusement.
"People do tend to surprise you." She picked up her tools and began working. "So, care to talk?"
Canderous grinned. "Why not? It isn't very often that a Mandalorian gets to talk about the glory days without someone shooting at them. Something special that you want to know, or…"
"Revan fought Mandalore, didn't he? Towards the end of the wars."
"Yeah. The guy was a hell of a fighter, even without his magic tricks."
"The force?" Aminta supplied, and Canderous waved a hand dismissively.
"Whatever. He never took off his mask or robes either. It was kind of strange, I have to admit. But watching him fight… It was like watching a force of nature. I have never seen anyone, before or after, who matched him in strength or dexterity. I would have been honored to die in battle with such a man."
"So, you agree with what Revan did and Malak is doing?"
"What, the whole 'Take over the Galaxy' bit?" Canderous shrugged. "It's nothing that we didn't try. They're just taking… drastic measures."
"It's ironic, isn't it? How Malak and Revan left to save the Republic from a foreign threat, and ended up destroying it themselves?"
"They were true warriors. Don't listen to Miss Jedi Princess' lectures on how they were evil." Canderous snorted derisively. "They just saw and seized an opportunity."
"An opportunity that caused thousands of lives, on both sides. They may have been warriors, but they were also ultimately deserters. And there isn't any honor is abandoning the cause that you fought for, is there?"
"No. Not unless you realize that what you were fighting for was a lost cause."
"It's still betrayal."
"You're talking black and white. There isn't any such thing," Canderous insisted, grunting slightly from his spot under the bike.
"Trust me, I know that as well as anyone. Maybe they didn't mean to destroy the Republic… Maybe it wasn't domination that they were after; maybe it was something else," she mused, and rolled her eyes when Canderous chuckled.
"You think too much."
"And you think too little."
"Smart-ass."
"Ignorant."
Canderous grinned. "I see that you're feeling better. Republic come to hold your hand?" he sneered, and Aminta stiffened.
"Jerk. It happens to be very sweet that he can talk about emotions."
"Sweet? Sweet is the farthest thing from manly. The guy needs to grow some balls."
"And you need to grow a brain."
"Better to think with the balls than to think with the brain, I've always said," Canderous grinned wolfishly.
"You would," Aminta muttered, screwing in an upgrade.
"What, you don't like manly men?" Canderous leered, and Aminta rolled her eyes.
"Brute strength has nothing to do with manhood."
"Oh? And what does?"
Aminta sighed, and ran grease covered hands over her hair. She scowled and muttered an oath under her breath once she realized what she had done. "What makes a man a man is a combination of the heart, the mind, and strength. Without a combination of all three, he's lacking."
"So you admit that Republic is lacking in some areas."
Aminta rolled her eyes. "Get a life," she muttered.
"I love the one I have."
"Hooray for you."
Canderous grinned, and grunted again as he continued on the bike. It would take months to finish the thing; months of non-stop working. He doubted they'd be together long enough to finish it. "So, what exactly makes you so defensive of our trusty pilot?"
Aminta shrugged, continued working on the engine. "He's been a good friend, and I very rarely ever find everyone who's willing to befriend me. I guess it makes me kind of protective of the ones that do."
"So, if I were to befriend you, would you be protective of me?"
Aminta snorted. "I hardly think that you need the protection," she muttered under her breath, and Canderous laughed.
"It's always nice to have someone at your back," he clarified.
"I'll cover yours if you cover mine," Aminta offered.
"Deal."
Aminta laughed softly after a few minutes. "I seem to be making myself a lot of allies," she mused.
"How so?"
"A Wookiee lifedebt, a teenager that will follow me around until she and the furball part ways, our casual deal…I've made more allies in a month than I made in all my time as a smuggler."
"Maybe you need to switch occupations."
"I like the smuggling life," Aminta defended herself, and Canderous chuckled.
"Of course you do," he muttered, and pulled himself out from under the bike. "I'm getting hungry. Want to join me in the galley, or are you too busy with that engine?"
Aminta set her tools down and wiped her hands on her pants. "I'm not hungry, but I guess I'll get Mission something while you eat. I could use the company."
"I thought that's what Republic was for," he sneered, scrubbing most of the grease off of his hand with a nearby towel.
Aminta waved her hand dismissively. "I can't talk politics with him; he hasn't learned to see the gray areas. Besides, if I said that Revan and Malak didn't mean to destroy the republic, he'd shoot my head off."
"So, I'm your politics buddy?"
Aminta grinned. "Pretty much."
"Works for me," Canderous shrugged. "So long as I get to talk about the Mandalorian glory days."
"I'd love to hear the stories."
"Well, there was this one with a Basilisk droid…"
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"Mission," Aminta's voice was uncharacteristically gentle as she shook the teenager awake. "I got you some lunch," she held out the ration bar, and Mission squinted at her through bleary eyes.
"Nuhungry," she mumbled, and Aminta smiled slightly.
"I'm forced to eat when I'm not hungry; what makes you any different?" She nudged Mission, who groaned and pulled her pillow over her head.
"You've been in that bed for three days, honey. You need to get up."
"I don't wanna," she muttered in teenage defiance. Aminta sighed and ran a hand over her face as she looked down at the twi'lek.
"Can we talk?" Aminta tried.
"No."
Stubborn as a mule. I really hate how like me she is. "Look, I know it's hard. Gods know I do. Sometimes…sometimes it's better if you talk about things instead of keeping them bottled up inside."
"Do you talk about the stuff that hurts you?" Mission asked pointedly.
Aminta winced. "Sometimes," she admitted. "Not often. Only when forced to."
Mission huffed, and pulled the covers farther over her head. Aminta sighed, and ran a hand through her hair. "Mission, please…"
Mission suddenly bolted up in the bed, and stared hard at Aminta. "You have no idea what it's like! To have your home destroyed, it's…"
"Try losing a child Mission!" Aminta snapped, and tears filled the teenager's eyes again. "Aw, Mish… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make losing Taris sound…easy. It's just…"
Mission sniffled, and rolled away from Aminta. "Don't worry about it," she mumbled. "I don't expect anyone to get how I'm feeling."
Aminta bit her lip. "Carth does."
Mission propped herself up and rolled over to face Aminta again. "What?"
"He's from Telos."
Mission's mouth opened to form a silent 'O.' Silence descended on them for several minutes, and Mission glanced down at her hands. "Do you think he'd wanna talk to me?"
Aminta gently placed her hand on Mission's shoulder, and smiled. "I'll convince him." Mission gave her a small, forced smile. "But if I'm going to go through all that effort, you're going to have to eat this," Aminta thrust the ration bar into Mission's hands, and the girl grimaced.
"Fine."
Aminta smiled again and patted the girls shoulder before exiting the room and heading towards the cockpit. "How is Mission?" Bastila asked as Aminta was walking through the common room.
"She's coping. How long until we get to Dantooine?"
"We should be there early tomorrow morning."
Aminta smiled. "Good. I think a change of scenery will be good for her. For all of us. Now, if you'll excuse me…" Aminta nodded towards the cockpit, and Bastila nodded before sinking back down into her meditation pose.
The cockpit was quiet, and Aminta frowned slightly as she walked behind the pilot's chair and gently placed her hands on Carth's shoulders. Carth jumped at the contact, and Aminta smiled slightly. "What were you thinking about flyboy?"
Carth leaned his head back so that he could see her and gave her a brief smile. "How have you been holding up?"
Aminta shrugged, and took her seat in the co-pilot's chair. "I worked with Canderous on the swoop bike today, and even managed to get Mission to talk to me."
Carth gave her a slight, knowing smile. "That's not what I asked you."
"You are the only one on this blasted ship that I can't fool," she muttered as she stared out the window into hyperspace.
"I'm choosing to take that as a compliment. Tell me the truth, how've you been doing?"
Aminta glanced down at her hands. "I've kept busy…pushed it to the back of my mind… to save the thought for later, when it won't hurt as much." She laughed softly. "It's an old trick."
"Does it work?"
Aminta shrugged. "During the day. When I sleep though… you've seen what happens to me." She couldn't meet his eyes. "What…what else did you find when you went looking through my things?"
Carth frowned slightly. "Besides the locket? A lot of datapads; I didn't read any of them. A couple sketchbooks… I think Mission found something though, because she slammed the lid pretty fast."
Aminta grimaced. "No wonder she's been looking at me strangely," she murmured under her breath.
"What was it?" Carth asked after a few tense moments.
Aminta bit her lip. "I'll tell you, but I need you to do me a favor. Okay?"
"What's the favor?" Carth asked cautiously, nervously shifting in his seat.
"Mission's having a really hard time right now. I kind of told her that you were from Telos." Carth's face grew clouded, and Aminta winced. "I'm sorry, it's just that she's having trouble dealing, and she didn't think that anybody understood. She needs to talk to someone who understands exactly what she's going through."
Carth let out a deep sigh, and nodded slowly. "Okay." There was silence for a few minutes, and his face cleared as he looked up at her again. "What was in the jewelry box?"
"My sonogram."
Carth choked. "I thought you said that you had a tubular pregnancy!"
Aminta laughed mirthlessly. "I did. I got pregnant again a couple years later. That time, I managed to carry the baby to full term."
"How… how old is it?"
"She would have been four next month," Aminta shrugged. "She died two hours after she was born," she clarified, and Carth winced.
"Sorry," he murmured, and Aminta glanced out the window into hyperspace again.
"Yeah, so am I." She licked her lips and glanced back over at him. "Mission's waiting."
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"Hey, Mish," Carth greeted the teen as he walked into what was now dubbed the 'women's bunkroom.'
"Hey, Geezer." Mission responded as she sat up and criss-crossed her legs. "Look, if you don't want to talk about it…"
"Nah. It's okay." Carth took a seat besides the teen on the bed. "I'm no shrink, but I've had some therapy over the years, so…"
"I don't need a shrink. I need a friend." Mission's response caught Carth off-guard, and he stared at her. Her face was honest, and Carth felt an overwhelming sense of paternal affection wash over him for the girl.
"Yeah. I guess you do," he murmured, and gently rested his hand on her shoulder.
"I never had many friends on Taris," Mission started, and then stopped herself, glancing up at Carth. He nodded for her to continue, and she looked back down at her lap again. "I had the Beks, but they were more like family then friends. But… they used me too, and neither family or friends are supposed to do that to you, you know?"
Carth nodded, and gently squeezed the girl's shoulder. Mission sniffed and continued. "But, even though I didn't have many good friends, I remember everybody. Zelka, Mayenna…" Carth winced at the name, and Mission brushed a tear from her eye, "…the bouncers from the cantinas, the twi'lek dancers who took the time to talk to me and doll me up… even the skuzzy guy who was always following me around… and I…I…" She turned into Carth embrace and buried her head against his chest.
Carth cleared his throat, and gently squeezed the girl. "You remember the small things too… how many people were always hanging out at the stores, which areas had kids and which didn't, what the skyline looked like from the water…" he wasn't talking about Taris at that point, and Mission knew it.
"You remember the smells and sounds that you took for granted, you remember every bump on every road, how the buildings looked covered in snow. You remember the cracks in every sidewalk, and what the city looked like at night. Things that you never realized were important to you until it was too late." Carth coughed, and blinked furiously.
"You remember the slums and the alleys that you wished would be gone, places you thought the galaxy would be better without. And when they're no longer there, you feel guilty. Almost like you wishing and thoughts are what caused everything."
Mission coughed, and dashed tears from her eyes. "Yeah," she whispered, and Carth looked down at his lap. "Will…will it ever go away?"
"You'll never get over it." Carth heaved out a deep sigh. "The pain… it'll always be a part of you." At this, Mission sniffled and pressed her fists to her eyes. "But, it'll fade," Carth continued, and brushed a tear from the girl's cheek. "It'll be a dull pain rather than a sharp one, and life slowly gets to be tolerable. Although in your case, things might be different."
Mission's head jerked up, and Carth smiled softly at her. "You're still young. At fourteen…" Carth cleared his throat and attempted to string the words together in a way that wouldn't offend her. "…you can build a new life for yourself somewhere else. You'll always remember Taris, and I can guarantee that you'll cry when you tell your kids about it, but you'll make your family somewhere else."
Mission bit her lip and looked down. "You lost everything, didn't you Carth?"
Carth stared down at his left hand, where his wedding ring used to lie. "Yeah…yeah, I did."
—————————————————-
"How's that engine coming, Jae?" Canderous called out from under the swoop bike the following morning.
"I'm trying to figure out how the engineers designed the Bek's prototype. Things aren't really going as smoothly as I hoped that they would." She replied as she bit her lip and shifted her weight to her other foot.
Canderous laughed. "Let me tell you something, squirt. Nothing in life ever comes easy. You have to fight for what you want."
"Yeah. And sparring with the engine would help me how?"
"Watch your mouth kid," Canderous laughed. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."
"Well forgive me for assuming otherwise. It's just that Mandalorians aren't exactly known for subtlety," she muttered.
"Cute, squirt. Real cute."
"Can it, Candy."
"Candy?" Canderous roared, and pulled himself out from under the bike. Before Aminta could respond, an alarm beeped. "What the hell?" he growled at the speaker closest to him.
"Yeah, Canderous. Swearing at the nearest alarm bell is really going to make it stop chirping," she said as she smirked and planted her hands on her hips.
"I'm getting sick of your big mouth, Squirt!"
"And I'm getting rather sick of your grumpiness, Candy," She countered.
The speaker crackled, and then Carth's voice came through. "Everyone to the common room. Strap yourselves in; we'll landing on Dantooine in approximately 6.2 minutes."
"He really gets technical," Canderous grumbled under his breath as he toweled off his hands and then thrust the rag at Aminta. "Meet you out there," he called over his shoulder as he stalked out the door.
"Infuriating Mandalorian," she muttered under her breath as she quickly followed him out into the common room, and strapped herself into the nearest chair. "Mission, Zalbaar," she greeted the other to occupants of the room. "Bastila in the cockpit?"
"Yeah," Mission piped up from her seat. Ever since Carth had talked to her the night before, Mission had seemed better. Carth, however, had locked himself in the cockpit afterwards, and hadn't even bugged Aminta about how little she ate. Yet.
"What, you jealous?" Canderous sneered.
Aminta glared at him. "Yeah. I'm positively green with envy," she responded sarcastically, and Canderous chortled.
":Your pilot does land well, correct:" Zalbaar asked a little apprehensively from his seat next to Mission.
Aminta bit her lip. "I wouldn't really know. I've only been with him for a takeoff in a real plane… I hope he doesn't crash the ship like he did the escape pod."
":What:"
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Sorry, I didn't quite know what to do with this chapter, so it was pretty much written on auto-pilot. Well… At least it's an update!
