Ten days was too much to ask for. Ten was not prime, seven was prime. How did she know that? Ky wasn't exactly sure. She didn't even know where she was. Her brain was hazy, lazy, crazy days of prime and the back of her head thumped like a sonofabitch. She relived Mytus VII, one moment at a time as if still there. Yeah, that's right. It all went to hell on Mytus VII—and seven was prime.
She and Skavak were strange bed partners, but it worked, for what it was. They joked and laughed and made love, siphoning all they could from those days; days that would never come again. She'd dreaded the end of them, but she was good at endings and walking away.
Three days out from Tolus Salini, the hyperdrive hiccupped, or so Beryl said, plus they could use fuel. She'd changed course to Mytus VII, a planet nobody went to unless they were desperate or crazy or a bit of both.
Heavily wooded with a hundred things that would try to kill you, including the plants, Mytus VII was the only source of Kaafa. A highly prized scentwood worth millions in the coreworlds and the Empire. It was rumored that the Sith Emperor himself had a room paneled with the stuff.
Mortality rates were high, and only the foolhardy ventured into the deep forest to harvest the wood. A person either got very rich or very dead, there was no in between.
They landed at the single spaceport that serviced the entire world. Built primarily for transport of their only export, landing bays numbered fifty or more while outbuildings were mere billets used for temporary housing. The perimeter of the city port was ringed by a forcefield to keep the encroaching forest at bay.
"You need any help?" Ky asked Beryl.
"Naw. Rook and I've got this. Likely a wonky motivator or something. Why don't you and Skavak stretch your legs a bit? We should be done here in an hour or so and ready to take off."
Skavak wrapped his arm around Ky's waist and stared out over the treetops. "I wouldn't want to be stranded here. Navigating an urban jungle is one thing, but this..."
They'd climbed to the top of a viewing platform. Nothing but variegated shades of green stretched below in a carpet of vegetation as far as the eye could see. Bird call, insect buzz and the occasional growl or scream of some animal filled the humid air.
"I prefer space." Ky leaned into his shoulder.
He kissed the top of her head. "I can see the allure."
They wandered through the city port, sidestepping loaders carrying stacks of cut lumber or entire tree trunks, some as wide as Ky was tall. The perfume smell of the wood permeated everything, cloying, sweet, offering peaceful clarity, almost hypnotic. Ky's mind had opened to the scent. She watched millennia pass in the growth rings, heard songs in the grain of the wood, saw patterns in the burst of budding life and the death of a leaf.
"We should get back." Skavak's voice broke the spell.
Her gift beheld beauty in a most profound sense, and she wondered for a second if the old, bastard Emperor had ever seen beauty too.
Beryl launched the ship through the atmosphere, the repulsors whining. Almost out of the gravity well, the ship lurched, they smelled smoke, plasma fire from somewhere grazed the aft section. They'd been fired on, twice.
"We're going down." Beryl fought with the steering yoke.
"Shields?" said Ky.
"Shields are offline."
"I can get us out of this." Ky unbuckled from the co-pilot's seat. "Get out of the chair, Beryl."
Rook's hand encircled Ky's arm, a crushing claw, forcing her back into her seat. "Mistress will handle this."
Skavak started to unbuckle his seatbelt. "What the fuck! Give Ky control."
"Please remain in your seat, Master Skavak." Rook's monotone held a subtle threat.
"They're forcing us down," Beryl yelled as another blast struck the ship.
The repulsors burped, died, then screamed back to life, breaking the ship's downward plunge. Treetops snapped against the windshield and screeched along the hull. The landing struts hit the ground, the ship bounced then hit again, bounced and finally came to rest.
"Sonsabitches!" Beryl bounded from her seat. "You two stay here. I'm gonna find out what the hell is going on. Follow me, Rook, be ready for anything."
"We should go with you." Ky rose from her seat once Rook had released her arm.
"My ship, my rules. Stay here." Beryl disappeared through the doorway with Rook close behind.
"I don't like this," said Ky.
"Me either," said Skavak.
"I've got something in my room I need to get. I suggest you do the same, then meet me at the airlock."
Ky slid the medallion into her pocket, her datapad into its case on her belt. She verified the garrote in her boot, a new gas cylinder in her blaster and her knife in its sheath. She was ready.
She met Skavak at the top of the exit ramp, staying hidden behind the wall.
Beryl's voice drifted through the opening. "Give yourself up, Ky. They only want you. Skavak and I are free to go if you'll come out with no fight."
Ky slipped her datapad into Skavak's hands then cupped his cheek with her palm. "I need you to listen. Once I surrender, they'll kill you. They want me alive. You remember the bar fight on Rommeth IV?"
He nodded.
"Good. I'm gonna make a distraction. When I get to the bottom of the ramp, you drop over the side and run like hell. Don't look back. Don't stop."
"But Ky—"
Her eyes searched his. "Take my datapad to Corso on Coruscant, don't try to access it, everything will wipe if you do. Tell him two words; belt and Scourge." She pressed her forehead to his. "You can betray me or save me; the choice is yours. You ready?"
"Yes."
"Then run." She bounded down the ramp, rolled when she hit the bottom and into the legs of one of the men knocking him off balance.
Time slowed, every move calculated according to minuscule clues foretelling what each opponent was about to do. She slid between legs, and underarms her knife surgically slicing into muscle and bone. A rifle aimed in Skavak's direction, a crouching lunge knocking the shot wild, six men, one whirling dervish dancing in the mix. Not one of them able to break free to give chase to the man who held all her hopes in his treacherous heart.
Maker save me.
The sting of a dart in her back, her legs tremored and buckled, these were GenoHaradan, and they were good. She knew from the start she'd be taken, she just needed enough time for Skavak to get away.
She crumpled to her side, the knife rolled from her fingers, her shoulder and head thudded into the ground. Unkind hands bruised her arms, lifted her up, held her supported between two men. Her head was lifted by the hair, a grinning tattooed face filled her vision.
"Told you I'd see you again, bitch."
Ky's gaze drifted to Beryl. She croaked out one word. "Why?"
"You don't owe this bitch anything," said tattoo face.
"Yes, I do." Beryl inched closer to where Ky dangled by her arms.
"Do you remember when I told you that a person would do anything for family?" Beryl began, then laid her hand on tattoo face's shoulder. "This is my younger brother, and I did what I did to save his life."
Ky's mouth was dry, her lips and tongue thick. "And here I was worried about Skavak. Seems you fucked me better than he did."
Her head snapped sideways, her mouth filled with blood.
"Please, Loren, enough," Beryl said. "She needs to hear the rest."
"I'm still on a timetable, Sis. Hurry this up," tattoo face said.
Beryl continued speaking. "The GenoHaradan do not forgive failure. They expected the Vendetta to be resolved by now and has revoked Loren's claim to Ars Vindicta. The price on your head superseded any personal claim, but, if Loren could catch you, all would be forgiven. He was working within a time frame, and his life would be forfeit if he could not claim the prize in time."
Beryl's face looked haggard and drawn, her eyes haunted. "I'm so sorry Ky. You were seen on Rishi, seen leaving in my ship. I've known since Rommeth IV."
"But why let me go to the Eidolon?" Ky's words slurred.
"Your guaranteed capture and twenty-five percent of my take if he'd give me the extra time. I owed it to you to make sure your crew was taken care of after you were gone. I can't save your life, but they will be looked after. I'm sure you've made arrangements if anything should happen to you."
Yes, she'd made arrangements. Scourge would take care of things, she'd seen to it.
Tattoo face, Loren, grabbed Ky's chin, his face inches from hers. "Your lover will never make it through the jungle. He'll be dead in a matter of hours."
"I think you underestimate his will to survive."
Loren squeezed tighter. "Once our client is finished with you, I'll claim what's left, and that part of you will die, slowly. You have my word."
Ky gathered what little moisture she had in her mouth and spat into his face, red speckles of her blood splattered across his cheeks. The crack of something hard against the back of her skull was the last thing she remembered, until now.
The forcefield hummed around her cage and glowed a pale pink. Pink, four letters, four was not prime. She began to tick off numbers in her head; two-three-five-seven-eleven-thirteen-seventeen. Prime requires two numbers. She was one. And one was alone.
#
Skavak ran.
He ran for himself and for her. Tree roots grabbed at his ankles, vines for his arms and throat. He couldn't be sure he ran in the right direction, or how far he'd come or how far he had to go. Leg muscles burned, lungs labored, sweat ran down his face, chest, and back, his clothes clung to his skin.
He ran until a stitch in his side brought him to a screeching halt. Bent over, hand clutching his ribs, gasping for air, he vomited. The purge continued until all that was left where dry, gagging heaves and a verdant world that refused to stop spinning.
A noise from behind directed his gaze skyward; Beryl's ship and one other lifted above the canopy, visible for a split second and then gone. Where are they taking her?
He spit the taste from his mouth, swiped his hand across his chin, and waited, and listened. The roar of an engine sounded in the distance. He looked skyward, saw nothing, but he could follow the sound. At least forty-five degrees off the direction he should be taking, he adjusted his trajectory and started to walk.
Sound travels differently in different environments, he could be two klicks from the spaceport or twenty or something in between. Just walk. His brain prodded him along, one plodding step at a time.
He swatted at the insects swarming around him, biting, annoying, bloodsucking bastards. A furry animal stopped in his path, stared at him for a moment and ran off into the underbrush. Hopefully, something bigger wasn't chasing the little shit.
Late in the day, it began to rain. He pulled a large leaf from a plant and created a bowl between his hands, drinking the water he caught in measured sips. Stars, don't let this plant be poisonous.
Evening brought a whole new experience and night brought ominous undertones of things that can't be seen in the dark. The noise changed from a blaring cacophony of squawking birds, chittering bugs and crashing undergrowth to slithering, creeping dangers that moved when all light was gone.
He holed up in the hollowed-out trunk of a tree, blaster in hand, and nerves keyed to a pitch that sang in his ears. His heart drummed against his ribs every time he was snatched from what little sleep he got by the snapping of twigs and the plaintive screams of things that would never see morning.
Alarm clock chirps and whistles roused him into the faint light of dawn. Stiff as a droid with rusty servos, he crawled from his sanctuary, stretched out the kinks in his back and started out again. My kingdom for a fucking ration bar.
Afternoon, no rain, no water, he heard the sounds of machinery close by and snuck forward to reconnoiter what lay ahead. A lumber camp, six—no—eight men, a couple of speeders and two portable billets for shelter. He didn't notice the vine coiling around his boot or up his calf.
He'd never felt such pain. Fire streaked up his thigh and into his gut, curling him into a ball like cheap flimsi wadded in a fist. He gritted his teeth against a scream he couldn't hold in.
Boots thudding, voices yelling, "Over here." Reflection off a knife, being lifted, carried toward a campfire, words ping-ponged from different directions. "Think he's alone?" "Dunno, but two of you stay on guard." "Fucking firethorn. Bring me the kit."
Hands on his shoulders, holding him down. "This is gonna hurt like hell. You'll be out for at least a day, but you'll likely live."
A needle jab, acid through his veins, scorching him from balls to brains. He screamed and passed out.
"Take it easy," was the first thing he heard when he finally managed to open his eyes. Someone put a cup to his lips, and he drank. Water had never tasted so good.
A ginger-haired man in full beard grinned down at him. "Looks like you'll live after all. Firethorn, nasty shit. How you feelin'?"
"Headache. Body feels like I've been hit by a Corellian tram, but good other than that. How long was I out?"
"Bout twenty-two hours. It'll be dark in another three. We can take you where you need to go, but not until morning. Smart folk don't travel after dark. You in a hurry?"
"You could say that." Skavak looked around the room and saw his stuff lying on a nearby table.
"Names Hallen. We're not thieves. We work hard for honest money, and all your stuff's there. I'll bring you some stew later. Looks like you could stand a bite to eat."
"Thanks." Skavak eased back onto the pillow and closed his eyes. They've had her for two days. Where is she?
True to his word, Hallen drove Skavak to the spaceport the following morning and dropped him off outside the Transport Authority. He stood for a long time staring at the sign and scooted around the corner where nobody could see.
His thoughts punched back and forth, pro and con. 'I don't owe her shit...she's counting on you...this won't end well...she's worth saving...fuck this shit, I'm outta here.'
He removed Ky's datapad from his pocket, laid it on the ground and raised his boot heel above the device. His legs quivered from holding the pose while his mind worked out the details. Moral dilemmas were not his specialty, and his greater demons always won.
You can betray me or save me; the choice is yours.
That voice, that face, those eyes. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He lowered his foot, squatted and picked up the datapad. "Damn you. I had no choice at all, and you knew it. Alright, tough girl, hang in there. We're coming to get you."
He booked transport on a cargo ship to Ithor, and from there he'd find passage to Coruscant. He had zero contact information for Corso or her crew, but he knew a guy. It would be 13 days total before he landed on the core world and he was just getting started.
She was still alive. He'd know if she were dead. Somehow, he'd know.