Guilt nipped at her heels as they followed Seph down the corridor leading them to the bay where the Soledad was docked. She should have gone to help rescue Scourge, but, damn, Corso was right that she couldn't allow anyone to see what she was truly capable of. One word in the wrong ear and she'd end up a lab rat in some black site, never to be seen again. She didn't trust the Jedi, and Saresh, the military, and the SIS were snakes of a whole different skin.
The words of Tajno came back to haunt her, 'I will tear apart your young friend's brain one cell at a time just to sate my curiosity.' The Sith would be even more creative. No thanks.
"We need to talk," said Seph, grabbing her arm right before she set foot on the ramp to enter the Soledad.
"Don't touch her like that," growled Corso.
"Relax, lover boy," Seph grinned and released her arm. "But, she still owes me. Hope you've kept her lips in shape."
"I don't owe you shit." Ky rolled her eyes and braced her arm against Corso's stomach to keep him from advancing on the man. "Give it up already. Both of you. We need to talk alone?"
"Naw, your crew needs to hear this," answered Okarr.
"Welcome back, Mistress," CeeToo greeted her. "The ship is in tip-top shape, and I made sure that your quarters were cleaned in anticipation of your return. Fresh sheets and sundries are in place. I hope it meets with your approval."
"It's good to be home, and I'm sure it's fine." Ky handed her bag to the droid as did Corso. "Take these to our room and bring the bottle of whiskey you'll find in mine to the galley. I haven't had a drink in days, and something tells me I'm going to need one."
"Maybe two," said Seph a bit too seriously for Ky's liking.
Ky poured a double shot and set a second glass before Seph, before she sat down, leaning into Corso's chest where he stood behind her. Gus sat at the table, Bowdaar stood by the sink, and Akaavi propped herself against the doorframe, absently cleaning her nails with a knife.
"All assembled," said Ky, taking a sip. "Say what you've got to say."
Seph encircled his glass with his hands, staring into the amber liquid. "Do you remember the GenoHaradan at Far Cry?"
"How could I forget. Played a little game of Orokeet blink with them. They blinked."
"Scourge contacted me after that incident. Asked me to keep my ear to the ground for any information floating about." Seph glanced at her sidelong, took a sip and continued. "I've been known to travel in some quite unsavory circles and know a thing or two about the Geno."
"And?" Ky prompted.
Seph turned in his seat to meet her eyes. "The Geno are assassins, not retrieval squads. A contract has been paid, likely for Scourge's life. I suspect recovery of the reliquary was the true objective, and the termination contract merely a ruse. You were simply collateral damage, until Far Cry."
Ky gave a nonchalant shrug. "I chose not to die that day, or, at least, die on my own terms."
"Admirable, but you made it personal on Far Cry. The leader of that cell had his pride wounded and received a black mark with the guild. He is honor bound and well within his rights, according to their code, to declare Ars Vindicta. The Art of Vendetta. The stipulations are immutable; you die, or he and his cell do."
"Is there no way out for her?" asked Corso, wrapping an arm protectively around her shoulders.
"Only if another contract supersedes the vendetta. Credits speak louder than any other language to the Geno," Seph answered, spreading his arms to encompass the entire room. "They will go through all of you to get to her."
"Then let them come," Akaavi said. "Mhi oyacyir tome, mhi ramaanar tome. They may regret their life choices."
Bowdaar warbled his agreement, Gus remained silent.
"Jate'shya at viniir ibi'tuur, bal akaanir nakar'tuur," replied Seph, turning around to face Akaavi. "Gaanader gar kyrbej mirdalaoh."
Akaavi sheathed her knife and cocked an eyebrow at the scar-faced human. "You speak well, aruetii. We will see how this ends."
Seph matched the intensity of her gaze. "There is also strength in wisdom, Mandalorian. Sometimes the when and where are more important than the how. Do not forget that." An expanse of white teeth appeared behind lips now stretched into a wide grin. "And, to answer a question you asked earlier; yes, I like tiingilar although I shit fire for a week, and my farts would down a Rancor."
The tension in the room melted like shaved lemon ices on Tatooine, even Bowdaar grunted out a chuckle or two. Minds cleared and plans could be made now that they were out from under the oppressive cloud of doom.
"You do have a way with words," said Ky.
"It's a gift," returned Seph.
"So where to from here?" asked Corso.
Seph downed the rest of his drink and raised a hand for silence. "I don't need or want to know, and I have no advice to give. The Geno are patient and everywhere so keep that in mind and watch your backs. They are a secular bunch, but they do monitor the bounty channels, and I doubt any hidey-hole will be safe for long."
The stool legs scraped across the floor as he stood up and took Ky's hand. "You're a dangerous woman to be around, and I wish you luck." He brushed a kiss across her knuckles before exiting the room and the ship.
"Set a course for Rishi," she said. "I'm still going to chase my rainstorm, and, if I'm lucky, the prick will get struck by lightning if he dares to follow me there."
Scourge had left instructions for her ship to be well stocked and ready for departure upon their return. She missed the stoic counsel of the Sith Lord and instinctively knew that he would tell her to meet this threat on her terms with cunning and caution. But at what cost?
She'd learned from Akaavi and Gus that Largo hadn't survived the attack on his compound. The smuggler game was dangerous, and lives were lost but should never be wasted. Anger turned inward for the senseless loss of her giving, jovial friend brought about by her careless actions. I should have listened. I never fucking listen, and somebody else always pays the price.
Corso held her that night until she thought she would suffocate from the weight of his arm on her ribs, his thigh on her hip the air drifting from his lips across her neck. Love became a burden a woman like her had no right to bear, and thoughts of leaving and staying conjointly pressed on her chest until she couldn't breathe.
She pushed the covers aside and carefully slid away from Corso's sleeping form. Barefoot and clad in a tee-shirt that skimmed the middle of her thighs, she slipped into the corridor and placed her forehead against the cold metal.
Images repeatedly flashed in a manic slideshow that would not cease. Corso lay ashen-faced and dying, Largo's brilliant smile reduced to leathery lips over yellowing teeth and Scourge, a vibrant, red giant torn apart and condensed into atoms by the crushing gravitational force of the black hole.
She sighed, pushed off from the wall and made her way to the cockpit, dropping into the co-pilot's seat beside Bowdaar who occupied the pilot's chair.
'You must let this go.' He used the signing cant she'd been taught by Gundy, a Dantari woman who was often her partner in the arena. A sign language she'd taught the crew, except Gus never caught on and Corso knew only a few words.
'I would if I knew how.' She signed back.
'You cannot dwell among the dead and go on living, my friend. Do not cage them in the moment of their death, honor them by leaving them in peace and going on when they cannot.'
She reached for a drink that wasn't there. 'I should never have gotten them or us in this situation in the first place, and I don't think I can take losing anyone else.'
Bowdaar woofed under his breath while his fingers bent and curled in a delicate dance of soundless communication. 'Guilt comes easy when looking back, and fear will follow you into the future if you let it. One leads to the other. Draw the line, Ky. Stop it here. You must make a stand, and we will stand with you.'
'If there's a way out, I'll find it.'
The Wookie cocked his head, scrutinizing her more closely. 'I see more clearly now. You carry love in your heart for the boy and losing him drives this fear.'
She shrugged. 'No more than losing you, Akaavi, Risha or Gus. You are my family. The only family I have left.'
'Akaavi and I are warriors born and would relish the fight. I have sworn a life debt to you and will not leave. Akaavi and Gus have nowhere else to go—'
'But Corso does,' she interrupted. 'He could find a good life away from all this. Away from me.'
Bowdaar shook his head sadly. 'You underestimate his strength and even the blind can see he would have no life without you. Be stubborn if you will, but it does you no credit here. Find a way for us all.'
'I'm trying, my old friend. I'm trying.'
The next day she commed Rogun. She should have stayed incommunicado, but the call had to be made while they were still a long way from Rishi.
"Hello Ky," Rogun said. "I hope you have some good news for me."
"Nice to see you still alive too." She hadn't expected a warm welcome but had to admit his coldness stung a bit. "You know the old Voidhound fleet account?"
"Yeah. I've still got access as far as I know unless you removed it."
"Kept enough credits in to keep it open and shut everyone out but you, me and Largo."
"Sorry to hear about Largo," said Rogun. "He was the best of us."
"That he was," she said, fighting off the rush of sadness that settled in the pit of her stomach. She cleared her throat. "I've deposited one hundred fifty thousand credits in that account. I trust it's sufficient payment for you and your men's aid on Belsavis?"
"Less than I'd counted on, but it'll do," he replied. "This concludes our business then. No offense, but I hope you don't call me again."
"None taken," she said. "Stay safe, Rogun. Aragath out."
She stared at the blank space above the holo unit. Yes. Aragath out. Largo gone and now Rogun. An era come to an end and no roads leading back to better times. Change blew through the galaxy, gusting the denizens before it like so much chaff. Time and change, the only two constants and they did not negotiate. You adapted or died, there was no in between.
Choices made and directions taken, no second guesses or redos. Kriff, if only life had a blasted rewind.
Routine and old comradery returned to the ship. Ky basked in the easy banter that resumed between her crew, each, in their own way, trying to ignore the underlying threat that dogged them all like a Kath Hound with its nose to the ground.
"Have Bowdaar tell you about his flea problem," chortled Gus over dinner one night. "Thought he'd scratch himself bald. Nearly asphyxiated himself in the fumigation tank and they had to send an extermination team to get rid of the little buggers hopping all over the cargo bay. He was in quarantine the whole trip from Nar Shaddaa to here."
"And you smelled like rat shit and burned oil," hooted the Wookie.
"I have sensitive skin and used cooking oil was the only thing I could find. You think it's easy digging in dumpsters every night to keep this glorious sheen?" retorted Gus.
"I wanted to shoot them both," smirked Akaavi. "Daily," she added.
Grumpy mornings, laughter at dinner, making love on nights so sleepy quiet she could hear the ship yawn. Things to preserve, trinkets to keep, treasures to value. Only one thing was missing, and it was right around the corner.
Temporary blindness was the first thing to hit Ky when she emerged into the glare of Rishi's afternoon sun, the second was the smell. The tang of salt water barely held its head above the greasy haze that hovered over Raider's Cove. Exhaust fumes mingled with spent blaster cartridges, smoke, oil, and Grophet-ka-bob fat dripping onto coals in open-air stalls.
The town's pulse thrummed along the boardwalk, the steady rhythm of deals gone bad, a beat down in an alley, the scurrying feet of a pickpocket, and the dragging boot heels of spacers down on their luck.
Curious eyes followed them, sizing them up, patting them down, trying to answer the questions that flickered behind every hooded lid. An easy mark, a new threat, gamblers, swindlers or just passing through? The Wookie and the Mandalorian defied easy classification and nervous whispers all but guaranteed they'd be watched but given a wide berth.
The clamor of the warehouse district blocked out the regular foot traffic and muffled the hum of sentients going about their daily lives. An occasional exclamation of profanity rose above the persistent whir and clang of loaders and drone of passing speeders.
Their destination, The Limpid Pearl Cantina and Inn sat on the outskirts of town, past rows of shops and shanties constructed of weather-beaten wood and covered with peeling paint. A simple driftwood sign hung above the entrance framed by white, blinking neon lights. In the distance, seabirds squawked and called, and the faint whoosh of the tide ebbed and flowed over a sandy shore.
A short, thin Mirialan woman stood behind the counter in the dim light of the lobby, her graying hair pulled back into a severe bun. She raised her lavender eyes to survey the newcomers, letting her eyes drift from the top of Bowdaar's head to the bags dangling from their hands.
"Welcome to the Pearl," she said. "Name's Rhea. What can I do for you folks?"
"Rooms for now," answered Ky. "Three, if you have them, at least one on the top floor, but we'd prefer to stay close to each other. You understand."
"I do. Not many people ask for the top floor. It gets noisy when the rain sets in, and we're expecting storms tonight."
"Exactly," said Ky.
Corso winced when he set the bags on the foot of the bed, and the springs squeaked like a Womp rat on stims. "Some things never change," he sighed.
"Comforting, isn't it?" Ky smiled.
"Why here? Why Rishi?" Corso asked while he unpacked soap, shampoo and shaving kit and placed them on the counter in the refresher.
"A combination of a lot of things, I guess," she answered. "The rain, the ocean and the smell of that little orchid that grows high in the palms. Smells like a cross between a Tellanadan Moonflower and the Nova Lilies my mom grew in her garden. Plus, it's a haven for pirates and miscreants, we fit right in."
"I hope this rainstorm of yours is worth the risk," Corso grumbled.
"We're not safe anywhere, but—" She was interrupted by the chime of her personal holo.
She glanced at the readout before answering. Only one person had that frequency. "Thorne?"
"Yeah, it's me. We need to meet. Where are you?"
"Can't say."
"Okay. Give me a hint. Something only I would know."
Ky hesitated for a moment then replied. "You remember the Hutt ticket heist?"
"Yeah. I can be there in three days. Will you still be there?"
"Probably unless something happens."
"Good. And Ky, I'm bringing someone else along. Promise not to shoot first and ask questions later."
"Depends on my trigger finger, but you've got my attention. See you in three."
A/N: Conversations in Mando'a
Akaavi: Mhi oyacyir tome, mhi ramaanar tome. (We live together, we die together.)
Seph: "Jate'shya at viniir ibi'tuur, bal akaanir nakar'tuur" "Gaanader gar kyrbej mirdalaoh." (Better to run today and fight tomorrow. Choose your battlefield wisely.)
Areutii: (Outsider)