"Ky, get up, we got work to do" Beryl's voice blasted through the door, punctuated by incessant banging.
"Yeah, okay," she answered wearily, still hung over from too little sleep and the use of her gift; ah, the wages of sin. She sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed, stretched her neck sideways and ran her fingers over the already scabbing bite mark on her shoulder.
A wry smile touched her lips as she made her way to the 'fresher. She was sore in all the good places, and the shower washed away any evidence, except the physical imprints of his hands and teeth. An odd sense of peace surrounded her, highly preferable to feeling like shit over a thing already done. She hadn't sought permission and forgiveness was a lofty prize too high to reach since the day Corso walked out of her life.
"I need caf," Ky announced as she walked into the galley.
Beryl handed her a cup, grabbed her chin and turned her face toward the light. "Nice bruise."
"Where's Skavak?" Ky asked, twisting her face out of Beryl's grip.
"In the cargo bay. Sit down we need to talk."
"And you trust him in there all by his lonesome?" argued Ky.
"Hell no," Beryl snapped, closed the door and flicked her chin toward the counter stools. "I said sit."
Ky slid onto one of the stools and Beryl took her stand on the opposite side of the counter, leaning back against the workstation.
"I'd have to be blind not to see you're having a rough time. You've been moping around for weeks like you'd just lost your ship in a high stakes game of Sabacc," Beryl started. "We've been friends for too long for me not to be able to read your face like a two-credit novel."
"That cheap, huh?" chuckled Ky.
"Nope, that obvious, but Maker's balls, you and Skavak? That's not something I saw in your future." She glanced at Ky over the rim of her cup. "Don't give me that look—small ship, thin walls, and you two weren't exactly quiet. Have you completely lost your mind after what he did on Port Nowhere?"
"I'm a big girl. Let it go," shrugged Ky.
"I thought you had better sense."
"I know exactly what he is—a self-serving, egomaniacal, sociopathic, untrustworthy bastard. Did I leave anything out?"
"That about covers it," said Beryl. "Just tell me one thing. Why?"
Ky's shoulders slumped like life had defeated her in some cruel game. "Because right now, he's the only thing that makes me feel alive."
"Corso?" asked Beryl.
"Is gone and I don't want to talk about it."
"You keep shit too bottled up. All I'm saying is watch your back."
"Always do," said Ky, setting her cup in the sink. "We have loot to divvy up and crates to unpack. You coming or not?"
Skavak leaned on one of the cargo crates drumming his fingers against the top and arched an eyebrow as Ky and Beryl entered. "If you ladies are done with your confab I'd like to get to it."
"Forever the ass," said Ky.
"That reminds me, how is yours?" he smiled around teeth he'd sunk into his lower lip.
"You trying to ruin an almost good thing?" said Ky, scanning the room, not meeting his eyes. "So, what have we got?"
Four loaded suspensor sleds lowered to the floor and secured with strapping and cargo nets lined one wall. Empty cargo crates with shielded magnetic plating on the bottoms sat adhered to the deck awaiting receipt of the divided goods.
"Rommi must have been collecting all this for years," commented Skavak as he flipped the top of a crate open revealing sealed stacks of credits inside. "Old Imperial minted ingots. Didn't think any of these existed anymore. We can exchange them for Galactic Standard, but we'll take a beating on the rate."
He dug deeper into the crate. "Now this is more like it. Galactic Standard chips and in high denominations. Too bad we were forced into grab and run mode, we left a lot of unopened, uninspected crates behind."
"Kyber crystals here," said Beryl. "Likely mined from that cave of theirs." She removed a separate case from inside the crate. "Holy shit! Refined Nova Crystals. These things are worth a bloody fortune on the Outer Rim."
"Lucky they weren't in their raw state," said Skavak. "Volatile as shit. We'd likely be little bits of goo dripping down the walls of that vault."
Ky left them to their crates, vaguely listening to the comments and picked up the satchel she'd carried in the cave. The one containing the lightsaber and medallion. The saber hilt lay heavy in her hand, ornate inscriptions faded, worn thin by years of use. The medallion emitted the same contradictory sensations of warmth and chill she'd experienced when she'd removed it from the skeletal remains segregated from the rest of the group.
Slumped as he'd been, reduced to bone, tattered cloth, and wisps of hair, he'd carried a stature in death undiminished by desiccation and the carrion creatures present on every world. He'd likely been the last to die, standing sentinel in the gloom, feeling each life flutter and extinguish, keeper of the pact that no one would be left behind. Men, women, children, friends, wife, lover, caught in the wheels of fate, abandoning him to last thoughts, final rites, and who would weep for him?
"What you got over there?" asked Skavak. "You haven't said a word."
Ky laid the saber hilt aside unaware she'd been sliding her thumb over the raised relief of the medallion and mourning the unheralded death of a solitary man. "Just some trinket I picked up," she lifted one shoulder in an insouciant shrug and focused on the pictures etched into the metal.
A sun setting or rising over mountains formed the backdrop, a blade stretched at an angle from lower left to center bail, from the right, a broken branch of lightning caught on the edge of the blade. The words 'We Stand' were engraved on the left bezel in barely recognizable old Aurebesh mirrored by 'Mes Kioska' on the right, ancient Sith symbols she remembered from Scourge. We Stand.
The fabric of time wrapped around her fingers, warm suns of ages lost and frigid chasms where the suns never reached, ice and fire and shadow, a malevolence she'd not felt since Dromund Kaas. She gasped, stumbled, and nearly fell, Skavak caught her, eased her onto the edge of the sled, the hilt clanked to the floor and rolled to a stop. Whispers from long abandoned halls wrapped around her inner ear, made her dizzy, her stomach rebelled and spewed her morning caf over Skavak's boots and the metal floor.
"Thanks, sweetheart." He grimaced and reached for the medallion. "I'll take that."
She pulled the medallion close to her chest, unwilling to let it go.
"Must really be worth something." A hint of accusation played around the tone of his words like she was trying to swindle him.
Ky swiped her sleeve across her mouth, found a voice and flashed a look his way that would wither flame. "It is a treasure you would never understand. Money is not its worth, and it's not meant for you or for Beryl. It's my part to play."
"What part? What are you talking about?"
Ky shook her head, trying to dislodge the innocuous purpose that gripped her mind. "I have no idea. Beryl, I need something to wrap this in. A leather scrap if you have it."
Beryl tossed her a piece of chamois off a workbench. "This is all I've got unless you want me to cut up my vest."
"This'll do." Ky wrapped the medallion, stood and tucked it into her hip pocket. A sense of detachment like that state between sleep and wakefulness descended and you're not quite sure if you'd been sleepwalking or not. Her connection to the medallion severed, quick and clean, a lancet excising a boil, instant relief. There was history there to read, but not now, not today.
Skavak steadied her, the sounds of Rook's servos whined in her ears as he cleaned up the mess, a deep inhale then another, and she was herself again.
"What the hell was that all about?" asked Beryl.
"Nothing," answered Ky. "Bad reaction to something I guess. Let's get back to it, okay?"
They engaged in dividing up credits, crystals, artifacts, and gems, burning most of the morning hours before Beryl put Rook to work slicing into the one crate they'd failed to open.
"Save the best for last," said Skavak when they took a break for lunch.
"Yeah, or blow us all to hell," joked Beryl. "Ain't suspense fun?"
Ky was half-way down the hall when Skavak grabbed her arm just above the elbow and swung her around to face him. "Sorry about earlier," he said. "I get a little testy being around so much wealth. Sort of warps my brain."
"I'm sorry I puked on your boots," she teased.
"You ever tromp around in the slime pools of Creeleg Seven? They've seen worse."
"Actually, I'm glad you stopped me." She leaned back against the wall, lowering her voice, looking left and right down the corridor. "I've got something to say."
"Oh yeah?" He propped himself on the wall, hand splayed beside her head and leaned in.
Her fingers played around the open neck of his shirt, eyes boring into his. "I do like it rough. Bruises and bites and scratches, oh my. But, if you ever hit me, I'll open you from crotch to eyebrow."
"Mmm," he hummed. "You're gonna turn my head with all that romantic talk. Does a slap on the ass count?"
"Just setting ground rules and it depends on how hard the slap is."
"Just enough to tingle in all the right places," he smiled.
"Color me intrigued," she smiled back.
"So, tonight, my place or yours?"
"Yours of course."
"Just do me a favor and brush your teeth," he wrinkled his nose above a lopsided grin.
Her hand drifted down the front of his shirt, stopping just south of his belt buckle. "You really think your dick is going to object?"
Air hissed between his teeth. "Going there are we?"
"If you're lucky." She sidled away from the wall, dropping her gaze to his crotch. "Better tame that thing before you walk into the galley. You might bump into something and hurt yourself."
Lunch done, small talk, back to the cargo bay. Ky technically paid them for their share of the Holocron, lightsaber, and medallion, transferring credits and other goods from her stash to theirs. No point in fighting over items she'd made very clear she'd never let go of.
Other than the locked crate that Rook continued to work on, the last crate they opened held the most interest for Ky. A couple of datapads lay on the top of stacked binders filled with pages of hand-scrawled notes. Most were written in Cheunh, ideograms representing ideas or concepts in the simplest form interspersed with symbols for their alphabet. A language none of them could read.
Four binders held notes containing the crisp, measured strokes of Aurebesh. An account of the planet's inhabitant's final days. Ky removed the top binder and opened it to the last pages, a hush fell over the cargo bay as she read the words aloud.
Karyon Settlement: 3845/06/23
Rommi's son, who bears his father's name, has activated the warning beacon today and we prepare for the last acts of a desperate people.
The crops have failed again, the herd animals dead or broken free of their pens. Tremors destroyed our hydroponics gardens, tremors that never cease. So much is broken. Our children must not suffer.
This planet that was at once our home and our prison has passed final sentence, condemning us all. The very laws of nature have rebelled, the Force withers under the assault and we are left with no choice but to succumb to the inevitable.
I, Gaelan Tuul have taken up the mantle of my father Maanak Tuul who disappeared into the Eidolon some thirty years ago, seeking a way out for our people. I hold his legacy in my hands and his burden in my heart. We will never leave this place this side of the veil.
Rommi's family and my wife and daughter will be the first to take the long sleep, there will be no pain except in my soul. I will stand guard until the last and find my way to them. Their light will guide my path.
The only regret is that all these lives will be unsung, their accomplishments unknown and we will be forgotten in the fullness of time.
My last words are written, and I go now to meet my fate. May the Force be with us and forgive us all.
Another tumbler clicked in the lock Rook was slicing, startling them all from their inner thoughts.
"I told you," said Ky, "this knowledge is more precious than all the treasures we have in our hands."
"Speak for yourself," scoffed Skavak. "The Chiss will likely bury everything in the lowest levels of their Expeditionary Library or the University of Sanbra. And the Jedi will never let your precious trinkets see the light of day. They're all just memories of a dying people. I prefer hard currency, it best serves the living."
"Speaking of currency," said Beryl, "what do you intend to do with your share, Ky?"
"Pay off the Hutts for the one shipment I didn't deliver, no thanks to Mr. Skavak here, then run like hell. There's got to be somewhere in Wild Space I can set up shop. Run a transport or delivery service."
"Alone?" asked Beryl.
"I've got my crew," answered Ky.
"That's not exactly what I asked," said Beryl.
In her peripheral vision, Ky caught Skavak's eyes drift her way, waiting for her reply. It was hollow and doleful and true when it came. "Yeah, alone."