Ky was up and gone when Corso awoke, the smell of caf permeated the ship making him slightly nauseous. His shoulder ached and his hands were stiff as he pushed himself upright in the bed careful not to disturb the bandages across his knuckles. Stubble pricked his fingers as he swiped his palm across his mouth and chin.
Memories of yesterday strayed across his mind like squatters looking for a home. They'd be disappointed by the scant lodging amid the ruin, but with no threat of eviction, they'd take up residence anyway.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose, groggily, to his feet to make his way to the 'fresher. A chill lingered over the ship and gooseflesh peppered his skin as he made his way around the bed. His reflection in the mirror over the sink exposed circles under his eyes and a sallow cast to his dark skin. He wanted nothing more than to down another one of those Nyex pills Ky had forced him to take some time during the night and crawl back under the covers to sleep for a year or for eternity. Right now, the latter sounded preferable.
Frustrated at the difficulty of putting on his pants, sans underwear, he tore the bandages off his hands and folded his fingers into tight fists, continuing to flex until the newly formed scabs loosened. A few spots of blood crept from around the edges which he wiped away with the discarded gauze. His shoulder grumped when he donned one of the former pilot's oversized T-shirts, and socks weren't a consideration when he stuck his icy feet into his boots.
The droid's cheerful greeting made him want to punch its metallic face until the vision of the mangled pulp of the major's head flashed through his brain. He sagged back against the corridor wall to clear his mind and gather his thoughts. It wasn't the fact that he'd killed the bastard it was that he'd lost control, something he swore he'd never do, not in front of her anyway. Stars above, I actually struck her. The guilt settled onto his conscience like a stain he'd never wash away.
She'd have questions, and he had no answers he was prepared to give unless they were a lie. One more thing he'd vowed never to do. He'd choose, instead, the lies of omission and outright refusal. Those, at least, were forgivable.
"Corso, love, that you?" Ky's voice drifted out of the galley.
"Yeah, babe, it's me. Be there in a sec," he responded pushing himself upright and continuing on his way.
He halted in the doorway, leaning his good shoulder against the frame, unsure what to do with his damaged hands and opting to hook his thumbs into his pants pockets. He surveyed the scene before him; Ky perched on one of the stools in a T-shirt hiked up to expose most of her long thighs, her feet balanced on the bottom rung. Her head bent over a datapad, loose tendrils of hair that had escaped her ponytail danced around her face. One hand gripped a steaming mug of caf, the other swiped the display screen in rapid succession. He intimately knew every line and curve and she still took his breath away, he could watch her forever.
The lockbox, their prize, sat unattended on the small eating table by the wall. Something about it gave him the creeps. He'd felt the same way before they'd delivered it to Sonhem like it contained something with invisible, malevolent eyes that observed and waited.
"You going to stand there all day?" she glanced up from the datapad and flashed a brilliant smile.
"Just appreciating the view," he replied, stepping over the threshold to sit on the stool next to her. Let the semblance of normalcy begin.
She slid off her seat, kissed the side of his neck and walked around to the other side of the counter. "Care for some caf? Maybe a slice of toast?"
"Stomach's a bit queasy for caf, toast sounds good though."
"I'll make you some tea, I think I remember putting a box here on this top shelf," she stretched up, raising her arms which in turn lifted the bottom of the shirt. She wore nothing underneath.
"It won't work, you know," said Corso, unable to take his eyes off the roundness of her bare ass.
"Not sure what you mean," she dropped from her tiptoes, tea box in hand.
"Don't play me for a fool, Ky. If you want to make love, we'll make love, but I won't talk about what happened, and your naked backside isn't going to change my mind."
"I'm sorry, love. I'm just trying to understand and help. Maybe if we..."
"I said no, and I meant no," he abruptly stood and stalked out of the room.
A guilty blush tinted Ky's cheeks. What the hell was I thinking? She set the tea box back on the shelf and looked longingly at the whiskey bottle before closing the cabinet door. Her sweet, gentle, brave Corso—she couldn't help but think that some vital part of him was lost now, and she was to blame.
She should have left him on Nar Shaddaa and brought Akaavi or Bowdaar, she should have seen Sonhem's betrayal coming. She should have...Fuck! There were more important things to worry about than dissecting her complicity in exposing a side of Corso he'd never wanted revealed.
The holo terminal chimed as she walked through the common area, third time from an unknown frequency to her personal ID. She ignored the call and proceeded to the cockpit to check the ship's status and figure out where they could possibly go next.
The panels, readouts and gauges held no good news, they had fuel for one more jump and not a long one. She loaded the nav computer data onto the screen and honed in on the Senex sector, their current location. Widening the search grid, their best option would be to take the Ando Spine to Eiattu, currently a monarchy with strong leanings toward the Republic. Not a planet of great significance for trade or industry, but it did provide a viable refueling stop. And then what?
The distance from Eiattu to Nar Shaddaa would be the problem. With a full tank, she'd come up short by a few thousand parsecs. Even best speed and best route, it was a twenty-day trip. So back to kriffing Tatooine, borrow enough credits from Largo to continue on or...have her crew meet them on Tatooine. She smacked her palm into her forehead, why the hell hadn't she thought of that in the first place? She'd owe them big-time, knowing for certain that they had all been dipping into personal funds.
Aaand, there goes that damned holo terminal again. The bastard was persistent if not exceedingly annoying. Heaving herself off the pilot's seat, she made her way to the terminal and pressed the receive button but hovered her finger over the disconnect, just in case she didn't like what he or she had to say.
A blurred image appeared in the holo-field followed by the timbre of a deep baritone.
"We meet again, little smuggler, it has been a long time." The greeting suggested familiarity. Distinctly Empire; Korriban, Ziost or Dromund Kaas, she couldn't quite figure which.
The tap of Corso's boots approached from somewhere and stopped behind her.
Ky's eyes narrowed at the image that refused to congeal into clarity. "I'll take your word that we've met. Let me be blunt. State your business or get the hell off my holo and don't call back."
Maybe it was the connection, but she could swear the flickering blue fog tsk'd at her or maybe he was just sucking something out of his teeth.
"You haven't changed, Captain. They are coming for you and your crew. What you hold is beyond price and cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands."
"Nothing is beyond price," Ky retorted, "and who the hell are they?"
"GenoHaradan, bounty hunters, mercenaries, Sith and Jedi. They will not stop, and you will find no safe haven."
"I've been hunted before and survived."
"Not on this scale. Meet me on Kohlma, it is your only chance. The coordinates are buried in this signal, copy it now."
Ky nodded at Corso who removed a data crystal from a nearby drawer and downloaded the file. Kohlma, burial moon of Bogden which should already be on the nav computer. She couldn't be sure, however, considering the ship was so recently borrowed. Best not to take any chances and they could check for any sneaky programming before loading the data into the ship's computer.
"Look, mister, I don't know you and my trust-o-meter is waving a really big red flag. How do I know this isn't a trap?"
The disembodied voice remained flat, unemotional. "You don't, but had I wanted you dead, I'd have let them kill you on Tatooine. I believe my intervention serves as proof of good faith."
"Your intervention don't prove shit except that you want something," Ky snorted. "Everybody wants something. And I ain't exactly swimming in credits, I'll be damned lucky to make it back to Tatooine."
"You will find no aid there. Your portly friend is likely already dead as well as anyone who knows of you or the box. Tell your people on Nar Shaddaa to go into deep hiding, I cannot protect them, and you cannot save them."
"My portly friend has more escape routes and hidey-holes than a womprat burrow, I wouldn't count him out." She squared her shoulders and crossed her arms. "I don't scare easy, and I don't much care for being backed into a corner; makes me irritable as a Rancor with a sore butt. I tend to do irrational shit when I'm peevish."
"Nonetheless, Ky," the voice continued, "your options are few and none. I may be your only hope. Travel back to Denon, land in the extreme northern spaceport, it has little traffic. A contact of mine will be waiting in the cantina, he will provide enough funds to get you to Kohlma."
"And you don't want this package for yourself? People have already tried to kill me twice, and I'm really not up for testing that 'third time's charm' theory."
"The package is not my destiny, I have a different path to follow, and this is merely a sidetrack that must be dealt with. Meet with me and take the chance to live or ignore my invitation and die. Do not delay your decision, already they have your scent. My contact will expect you in thirteen days, I will expect you six days after. Cover your trail." The image flickered and died.
"Mr. Cryptic seemed to know you quite well. First name basis too. Another conquest from before my time?" prodded Corso sarcastically.
"Don't start," she shot him a withering glance. "His voice is familiar, but not pillow talk familiar, if that eases your mind any." She grabbed the crystal from his hand. "I'll take care of this, you go do...something."
There was no answer when she tried to contact Largo, nothing but the intermittent chime bobbing in an ocean of static. Her shoulders drooped with worry—the grief, she would put on hold until she knew for sure. Without her jolly, longtime friend, the universe would be a much dimmer place.
Akaavi answered with the typical Mando'a greeting and a frown that would frighten a nest of Vrblther.
"I need you and the others to fade into shadow," said Ky, interrupting the outburst she knew was coming from the Zabrak. "You know Faakiz at the 'Get a Kloo' cantina down in the Undertow?"
The image nodded. "I know the piece of osik. He'd sell his own sister for a credit."
"Exactly. I want you to contact Faakiz and have him take you to a safe house. Once he gets you situated, I need you to leave and find sanctuary in whatever hovel or dilapidated building you can access. Wrap yourselves in old blankets, mingle among the addicts, in the alleys, go to a lower level, I don't care, just keep your heads down. Stay off the grid and the holo, I'm coming for you."
Ky disconnected and gripped the crystal so tightly the pointed ends bored into her palm, the sharp pain providing an anchor she could hold on to. She hadn't felt this alone since she was seven. A lost child in dirty blue gingham overalls stuffed into a cage the size of her house in the cargo hold of a ship that could swallow her entire village. A frightened, confused piece of baggage among uncounted others.
She'd won her first fight that day when a taller, stronger boy had tried to take Fooly, her stuffed tauntaun. She'd pulled his hair and bloodied his nose and kicked him when he tripped over another child's legs. The puffy eye and split lip she'd received went unnoticed until later when the throbbing in her face began.
The guards had cheered her on, clapping and hooting which gave her an odd sense of pride. As soon as the spectacle ended, they resumed their rounds, forgetting her, downgrading her importance to just another piece of cargo, a valuable lesson for one so young. A lesson that had served her well. She'd hugged the toy close and squirmed her way through the throng of sniffling, dirty faces—close to tears, wanting to be invisible—wanting to go home.
She thrust the memory aside and stopped by the galley to retrieve her datapad. Inserting the crystal into the port as she walked to the cockpit, she ran a security scan on the file, relieved when nothing untoward was detected.
An involuntary gasp escaped when her bare thighs settled onto the cold leather pilot's seat, absorbing all the heat from her body, sending a chilly tremor up her spine.
Instead of starting the jump calculations, or loading the data from the crystal, she sat, shivering and staring out the windshield at the endless black. A tired numbness washed over her and she wanted to be out there, floating, weightless and frozen, releasing her troubles to something bigger than herself.
"Stand up." Corso's blunt request came from beside her. She hadn't heard him enter.
"Not now, please." Defeat tinged her voice like echoes from an empty jar.
"I'm not here to fight. Stand up," he repeated.
A heaviness she couldn't fathom pulled at her as she rose from the seat and weariness staved off any inclination to fight. Corso stepped forward and lifted her to him before assuming his position in the pilot's chair, settling her onto his lap and tucking the blanket he carried around her shivering body.
"Where to?" he asked, leaning forward a bit awkwardly to avoid pinning her against the steering wheel. A piercing pain jabbed through his shoulder as he stretched to reach the control panel. He chose to ignore it.
"Eiattu, if you please," she responded, resting her cheek on his uninjured shoulder.
A few minutes later he initiated the jump and adjusted the chair to the furthest lock-stop position on the slider track, wrapping her in whatever comfort his arms could provide.
"You didn't sleep last night, did you?" he inquired. "Do you think I don't notice all the nights you get up to wander the ship? That pill you gave me knocked me out pretty good, or I wouldn't even have to ask."
"I didn't get much sleep, and I never tried to hide my late-night strolls. It's just that things are happening too fast and keep piling up. I'm broke, my crew is stranded on Nar Shaddaa, I have no idea what's in that fucking box or where I can even unload it and then what happened to you yesterday..." She felt him tense up and added, "not that I'm going to push you for an answer. We both have our secrets."
The blanket had fallen from her shoulders to fold around her hips and Corso absently strummed his fingers up and down her arm. The matter of his aberrant behavior was closed, she wouldn't broach the subject again any more than she'd expose her secrets to him. She'd read somewhere that keeping secrets was the wisdom of fools, seems she and Corso were cases in point.
"We going to Denon like your mystery caller advised?" Corso started the conversation again.
"I don't have much choice, I need the credits, but then I'm going to Nar Shaddaa to get my people. Warnings be damned."
"You sure that's the smart thing to do?"
She deflated against his chest, becoming small and delicate, her response full of fragile anger. "When have any of my current decisions been smart? Dammit, it's my fault, all of it. My crew being hunted, Largo possibly dead, Rogun's men getting killed, and the toll it's taking on you. All of it's my fucking fault and I have to make it right."
"Then we'll make it right together." Corso kissed the top of her head and forehead, the bridge of her nose, nudging her face upward so he could kiss her mouth.
"Do you know what I miss?" she asked when the kiss ended.
"Tell me." He rubbed his cheek against her hair.
"Do you remember our layover on Rishi and that hotel room we stayed in? Top floor, metal roof, lumpy mattress, squeaky springs—you were mortified by the thought that the whole town might hear us. And then it started to rain. Just a drop or two at first, falling here and there, unpredictable, almost teasing followed by a steady pattering and escalating into a deafening drumming that drowned out everything else. We made love in the chaos, cocooned in the rhythm of the storm and slept like two people who'd never sacrificed their innocence."
"I remember."
"More than anything else, my love, I wish it would rain."