"One of Sonhem's, I take it?" said Largo rather dubiously. "And how do you plan on doing that?"
Ky tilted her head and cocked an eyebrow. "Very carefully."
"That comeback was already tired a hundred years ago," Largo retorted gruffly. "What do you really have going on in that lovely head of yours?"
"Nothing good or sane," ventured Corso.
"You know me too well, darling," Ky said, turning Corso's hand over where it lay on the table and twining her fingers with his.
"Well, let's hear it," prodded Largo.
"Sonhem doesn't know we're still alive yet, as far as we know, right?"
"I've been monitoring comms out of his place and other than two encrypted messages we couldn't decipher, we've heard nothing that suggests he's aware. I even had Dester do a quick flyby near his compound, he didn't report anything out of the ordinary happening. Sonhem is a cagey S.O.B., he might be waiting for confirmation and it has been six days."
"What about the Fat Chance? Anybody been back to check on my wrecked ship?"
"No, should we?"
"I'd like to know what the Tuskens are up to. What about Anchorhead? Any possibility one of his men could have spotted us or one of the med staff are on his payroll?"
Largo snorted. "Sonhem is a paranoid bastard and control freak. He doesn't let any of his men near Anchorhead unless he's with them. I doubt anyone was looking for you at the spaceport when we brought you in, the ambulance was a closed vehicle as was the speeder we used to bring you here. Not sure they'd have been looking for Corso alone just yet and regarding the med staff—highly doubtful. Sonhem is not well liked in these parts. He's known for being stingy with payoffs and informants don't always live long enough to collect. He's also arrogant enough to consider himself untouchable, however, we can't take anything for granted. Scuttlebutt is he's way too chummy with the Imperials, so we can't rule them out."
"I need to have Akaavi call Sonhem and tell him she's worried that she hasn't heard from us for six days. She can inform him that she and the crew will be on their way on the next transport out of Nar Shaddaa. That might delay any suspicions he has and give me some wiggle room. I'm sure he's located the Chance's wreckage by now, that's why I need to know what the Tuskens are up to. If we can keep him off balance for another day, I'll have my ship."
"It was just a simple fetch and deliver. Why'd he do all this in the first place?" asked Corso.
"I'll bet it has a lot to do with that lockbox. Nothing traceable back to him. My ship, my death, and no money trail. I wonder if the dealer we picked it up from is still alive. Pretty slick, if he'd gotten away with it. I fear there's going to be a lot of bodies on the deck before this is over with. What he doesn't know is that I put a camo-tab on that box before I handed it over."
Largo's eyes widened with interest. "Sorry, a what?"
"Some experimental tech I got from an old friend, Numen Brock, on Balmorra a few years ago. Flat, small, long-range tracker, adheres and takes on the look and feel of any substance. Uses the objects own mass as well as any structure it comes in contact with to amplify the signal. Virtually undetectable. The signal frequency is monitored from my datapad."
Largo eyed her from across the table. "I know Brock. Arms dealer and I use the term loosely. What did you have to give in exchange?"
"A couple of hot sweaty nights and a case of Corellian brandy."
"Nice tech," Largo conceded, "hope it was worth the price."
"He didn't have much between his legs but he had very talented lekku," she chuckled.
She gently squeezed Corso's hand. "Don't look so glum, darling, it was long before your time."
"Would it have mattered if it was after?" Corso asked, his voice thick and distant.
Her noncommittal shrug was all the answer he needed. He pulled his hand from hers and folded his arms across his chest, slumping down and lowering his head so the thick mop of hair fell forward to shield his face.
"So, what do you need to pull this off?" asked Largo, breaking the silence that had dragged into the realm of uncomfortable.
Ky's expression remained unreadable as she shifted her attention from Corso to the spacer. "You still got any of those old imperial probe droids I brought back from Hoth?"
"Yeah, I think I held onto one or two. They're mostly scrap though. Why?"
"I need detonite, timers, and one probe droid that can be fitted with rocket boosters. Don't need guidance, just aim and shoot. The droid can be gutted and filled with a whole lot of boom. Let's see if Sonhem can swallow that pill when I ram it down his throat."
"What about the blast doors?" Largo reminded her.
Ky thought for a moment. "Create a diversion, something to make Sonhem open them to send his men out. Not all of his ships are in the hangar, at least three were outside under camo netting. I saw them when we landed and it's one of those I'm after anyway. Assault on one should do the trick. I'll need a rocket launcher with a payload big enough to cause one hell of a ruckus."
She turned her attention to the mass of hair with no face. "You still got the transponder cylinder, Corso?"
"You know I do." His response came out flat if not somewhat surly.
Ky shook her head and opened her mouth to say something but Largo interrupted. "Corso, why don't you go downstairs and get Dester to fly you out to the wreck of the Chance. While you're at it, tell him to get the men started on that droid and gathering the supplies we need. Oh, and that hair of yours is a dead giveaway, make sure to wear something that hides your head and your face. Let's not give credence to any rumors floating around."
"Yeah, sure," Corso stood up. "I need some fresh air anyway."
He didn't bother to look at Ky as he swung around on his heel and shuffled out of the room.
"Sometimes he can be such a child," Ky huffed in exasperation.
"You misread Corso, you always have. I've never seen a man more in love than he is with you," countered Largo.
She rubbed her temples which had started to throb. "I know, and I love him too..."
"But?"
"I don't like to talk about my past, but, I learned a long time ago that sometimes you get what you need at the end of a blaster and sometimes you get what you want between the sheets. It's just business, everybody has something to trade. He should know by now it doesn't mean anything."
"Stars, Ky, he won't ever feel that way about you. He can't." Largo waggled his index finger. "You keep pushing his buttons and one of these days you're gonna push his 'gone for good.' As much as he loves you, even Corso has limits. There's an invisible line around that boy's heart and you're smack dab in the middle, just take care you don't step over it."
Ky took a drink and set the bottle down harder than she intended. "I foundered a lot when I first started out until I realized that I had to play the game like a man to make it in this business. I've done a lot of questionable things and hurt people along the way, Corso most of all. I can't change any more than I already have and business is different. Everybody wants something, Largo, I've just learned to use whatever commodity is necessary to achieve my goals. You know how it is with us space trash."
Largo glanced at the door then leveled his gaze on her face. "Ok, I understand that, but anybody with eyes can see how the way you are torments the kid. Why keep Corso around? He'd have been a hell of a lot better off if you'd cut him loose a couple of years ago."
A rueful smile creased the corners of her mouth as if what he said struck a chord she'd played a thousand times. "Because Corso was unexpected and in some sick twist of irony, I do love him and I...need him. As selfish as it sounds, he's the only constant I've ever had in my life and that's a hard thing to let go of. Just don't tell him I said that. He has to believe he can leave at any time. I won't stand in his way and I won't use the 'need' card. His freedom is something I refuse to take."
She idly played with the condensation dripping down the surface of the bottle. "You know, I've often wondered if he could love me quite as much if I were some milksop Jedi or a regimented military type, or a housewife who relied on a man's protection." She rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe the housewife, like that could ever happen. He's addicted to this life same as me. He knew all the risks when he signed on and when he came to my bed. I've never lied to him or tried to hide what I am."
Largo leaned back in his chair. "He's addicted to you, Ky. There's another old saying, 'you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.' You've always had that faraway look like you were waiting for something. You might want to refocus your view to what's right in front of you. Trust me, an empty bed gets colder the older you get."
She finished her ale and contemplated the empty bottle as if it held a message. "So be it, everything comes at a price."
Metal legs screeched along the floor as Largo pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. "I'd better check on that droid and see how the guys are doing with outfitting it and make sure the suspensors are still working. We'll put the detonite in tomorrow. Dester will have sent someone out to one of my hidden caches to get it. It's not something you leave lying around the house."
"Mind if I tag along after I make that call to Akaavi? Corso won't be back for a while and I'd like to stretch my legs and put my mind to other things."
"You know the way," he threw over his shoulder.
"Su'cuy gar, vod. What news?" Akaavi's economic words clipped out of the holo image.
"Yes, I still live, glad to see you too."
Akaavi simply nodded and Ky caught the guttural grunts and growls of Bowdaar in the background.
"I'd ask you to scratch under Bowdaar's chin for me, but he'd likely bite your arm off," Ky joked.
Akaavi snorted. "As if the beast were fast enough. We tire of being on this loud, smelly me'suum'ika. Even Gus grows impatient. My guns itch and the barfights are unworthy of my talents."
Ky chuckled at the Mandalorian's straightforward approach to life. "I'll be there as soon as I can but for now I need you to stay put and out of as much trouble as you can manage. I want you to contact Sonhem, tell him you haven't heard from us and that you're on your way to Tatooine to see why. That should unbalance him or push him into his next move. My first priority is getting my hands on a ship, your call should help toward that end."
"As long as it belongs to that ge'hutuun, I will be reasonably happy. I will make the call. Ret'urcye mhi, Ky. Come for us soon."
Corso had stopped just outside the door and tucked himself behind the wall when he heard Largo mention his name. His heart soared when Ky admitted that she loved him and, more importantly, needed him, then plummeted like a meteorite in heavy gravity when she'd said he was free to leave. Ripples of doubt and fear coursed through his brain and settled in the pit of his stomach, cruelly gnawing at his innards.
He'd tiptoed away and down the ramp to find Dester and they now flew over the endless dunes, a tiny vehicle swallowed by the sameness of the planet.
Dester wasn't a talker, a trait that Corso appreciated at this moment, preferring to keep council with his own thoughts. He'd never entertained the notion of leaving her, had never been tempted no matter how hurt he was or how angry he got with her. She'd adjusted her life more than he'd thought possible to accommodate his place in it and seemed content with their arrangement. Maybe an arrangement was all it would ever be.
He tucked his hand inside his jacket pocket and fingered the cool satin cover of the box. Maintaining hope proved to be a delicate dance where Ky was concerned. Sometimes he took lead, guiding the elusive emotion flawlessly through the pitfalls of loving her. More times, than not, it would twirl away like a mystery partner, getting lost in a crowd of words or deeds.
Perhaps it was all a wasted sentiment and another shattered dream. No little ranch to live out their old age, no kids or grandkids, just endless cycles of jumping through the black until they were too old and tired to push the buttons. He'd be at her side, bent and gnarled, while the ring, with all its promise, remained buried in a hidden compartment in the wall of their room.
"There it is," said Dester.
Corso jumped in his seat at the sudden burst of words interrupting his maudlin reverie and stared out the window at the makeshift Tusken camp newly erected around the downed ship. A few waved their gaffi sticks or fired at the shuttle and several bantha, loaded with ship parts, dotted the landscape.
He wished they'd had the explosives to blow it sky high before the vermin descended to pick the bones clean. It was like seeing an old friend being cannibalized right before his eyes. The Jawas would be next like buzzards waiting for the jackals to leave. Such was the fate of any corpse lying exposed on this bleak desert world.
Something shining in the distance caught his attention. "There, what's that?" he pointed in the direction of the winking reflection.
"It's a droid," said Dester as he circled the shuttle around for a closer look.
"Droid, my ass, that's Icy," said Corso, zipping the ring box securely in the hidden pouch in his pocket before getting up from his seat and heading for the exit. "Take us down. I'll at least have some good news for Ky."
"It's awful close to the sand people camp, we're gonna take fire," argued Dester.
"Don't care. Land close, I'll snag the droid and you can take off before the ramp retracts," stated Corso. "I have to do this."
"Whatever you say. Going down, and you'd better hurry or I'll leave your ass behind."
Corso had already opened the hatch and begun extending the ramp before the shuttle landed.
His hair whipped painfully across his eyes making him wish he'd kept the helmet on. Briefly calculating the distance to the ground, Corso launched himself out of the door and landed on tucked legs, rolling to a stop a few feet from the metallic entity.
"Oh, thank the Maker," whined the droid. "I thought those horrible beasts were going to find me."
"Shut up, Icy," Corso growled. "Can you walk?"
"Hardly with one leg, master. I was lucky to have crawled this far. What an ordeal, I thought I was doomed and that..."
Corso switched the droid off and hauled it up onto his shoulder just as a slug hit the droid's body, throwing him to his knees. Scrambling to his feet, he ran, ignoring the projectiles that whizzed past his head. He leaped at the ramp just as the shuttle started to lift off, digging in with his fingers until he found purchase on the slick surface and could pull himself onto all fours. He crawled to the entrance while shots ricocheted off the hull.
"You could have waited another two seconds," he grumped at Dester as he tumbled through the airlock and pressed the controls to retract the ramp and close the door.
"I gave you fair warning and what the kriff kind of name is Icy?"
The droid chassis clattered to the floor as Corso found his footing and made his way to the cockpit. "It stands for IC-U2, Ky doesn't believe in keeping original droid designations. Says it robs them of their individuality. I wouldn't rib her too much about it, though. It's one of her many touchy spots."
Dester chuckled, much to Corso's surprise. The man had a more than contentious personality and laughter seemed the least likely response to come out of his mouth.
"Going to take a flyby over Sonhem's place," advised Dester. "Doing it at altitude so you might want to get the binocs from that cabinet behind us and take a gander."
Dester was still chortling off and on when Corso reported that nothing appeared to be amiss at the Sonhem compound except some activity around one of the ships, refueling maybe or resupplying. Not wanting to raise suspicion by circling, Dester kept their trajectory straight to gain distance then turned the craft back toward Anchorhead.
"Your captain must be something special for you to risk both of us just to make her happy."
Corso donned the helmet and gazed out the side windshield before murmuring, mostly to himself. "She's more than special, she's everything."