Skavak stepped off the shuttle and pulled the wide brim of the newly purchased hat down to hide the top half of his face. His eyes searched the hangar and finally found the purser he'd bribed to get him past the security scanners. Coruscant hadn't been a safe layover for him in a long time, and he doubted all his time spent out on the rim had changed that. The low-income crowd was always eager to make a few extra credits on the side, and employee entrances were a handy way of bypassing any unwanted attention.
He took stairways, turbolifts, and back alleys, to level 5091, thirty-six levels from the surface. Lower levels of the Uscru district were unhealthy places to travel, but they were comfortable stomping grounds for him. He stopped outside the entrance to Codger's Cantina and Gaming Emporium and contacted Izzix. He had an hour to kill before the Rodian showed up.
Early evening crowd, a few glances when he walked in, nothing to worry about. He sauntered across the room and leaned into the bar.
"Hey, Codger. Long time," he said to the barkeep who had his back to him stacking glasses on a shelf.
The rotund human turned around. Bulbous nose, thinning gray hair, and dark eyes set deep in a ruddy face. The twin apples of his cheeks pushed his eyes deeper when a grin split his face.
"Skavak. Been what, five or six years? Nobody's cut yer balls off yet, huh?"
Skavak flopped the hat onto the bar and slicked his hair back. "They're still hanging right where they belong last time I checked."
Codger wiped his hands on a towel and bumped his girth up against his side of the bar, close enough so they could talk in hushed tones that could still be heard above the music. "What can I do for ya?"
"Need a blaster and a holdout."
Codger nodded at the blaster on Skavak's hip. "Seems you're pretty well armed already."
"Yeah, but I need a couple extras just in case. You know how it is."
"Backroom. Follow me." Codger turned and yelled at one of the waitresses. "Noona, watch the bar for a few. Got some business to take care of."
Thirty minutes later, Skavak sat in a booth at the back of the cantina, sipping rum. A wrapped package lay on the seat beside him, a new blaster rested in his holster, and the holdout tucked into his waistband dug into the small of his back.
"You're late," he said to the Rodian who finally showed up and slid into the booth.
"You're not my only customer. Got my credits?"
Skavak tapped his middle finger on the stack of credits he'd placed on the table. "Right here. Three grand, as agreed. Now, tell me where he is."
The Rodian unloaded his intel, eyes shifting to the stack of credits from time to time.
"Black Sun, huh? Who knew the kid had the balls for that kind of work. You're sure he's there now?" The Rodian nodded, and Skavak slid the credits across the table. "We're done here."
Fucking Warehouse District. Skavak stopped a short distance from a group of young men huddled around a fire. He caught the attention of one and gave a 'come here' jerk of his head.
"You wanna make a quick twenty credits?" he asked the kid.
The kid looked him up and down, likely sizing him up as an easy mark, or not. "Blowjob's fifty," the kid said.
Skavak's mouth ticked into a smirk. "Don't be stupid. I need you to deliver a package to a man in that cantina across the way."
"Black Sun? Dangerous place. I'll do it for a hundred," the kid countered.
"Fifty now, fifty more when it's done."
#
Corso sat at the bar, drowning his sorrow, or hell, maybe just drowning, it all felt the same anyway. He drank himself into what little sleep favored him each night and woke to stims to get him through the day. Alcohol and drugs and he hadn't even given in to the hard stuff yet, although sweet promises awaited if he'd just say 'yeah, sure, why not?'
Kriff, man, how low can you go? Too far from grace and not far enough to forget.
She'd been gone for nearly four months, and he could still taste her in the booze he drank, the salt of his own sweat, and the rain he licked from his lips. She was everywhere and nowhere and would not let him be.
Female laughter pealed through the bar, brassy and grating and lacking the pure ringing tones of her particular brand of mirth. Dark haired vixens caroused and paraded, rubbed their breasts against his arms, pursed their lips and smiled, winked and grabbed his ass. One stony glare from game face sent them scurrying away. They weren't her; they were never her.
Life with Ky was like walking a wire high above a cliff, fighting to hold his balance against winds that buffeted from all sides. He missed the uncertainty of it all, never knowing where the next meal was coming from, or the next fight or the next destination. He missed the crew and the ship and those quiet moments in their room when he could...when she would...
When almost sober, he'd lose himself in memory of Rishi in the rain or the night on Scourge's ship, when her pale fingers had trailed across his dark skin like cream drizzled over caramel. Her touch scalded as she'd circled him and his muscles had quivered under her methodical, tactile scrutiny. She'd memorized his body and promised she'd never say goodbye, and she hadn't, but, dammit, she was still gone.
In that twilight realm of almost sleep, when he'd puked up most of the gin and lay on his back waiting for the room to stop spinning, he'd recall the first time they'd made love. He'd been so nervous he thought he'd pass out and if not for the bottle of Ord Mantell 432 he might have. In her quarters, she'd stripped his clothes, button by button, clasp by clasp, until he'd stood exposed down to the nerves running just under the skin. He thought his heart would hammer out of his chest when her fingertips brushed across the tip of his cock then lightly strayed the length over the top, looping back to the head and meandering along the bottom, skimming his balls and looping back again.
"Undress me, Corso," she'd whispered. "Take it slow, we have all night." Stars, all night.
He'd never have that again. Even Nay'la the half Mirialan woman who'd shared his bed a couple of times in the last few weeks did little more than satisfy his craving for simple human touch. The guilt he carried afterward barely offset the driving desire for release into flesh other than the palm of his own hand. He'd sworn he'd never use a woman in such a way, and yet, he had.
The gin slid down his throat, much too easily. He had to leave this place. It was eating his soul. He had to get away from Rona, and the Black Sun and Coruscant and...
"Mister Corso?" A young man slid a wrapped package onto the bar. "Mister Corso Riggs?"
"Yeah. What do you want? What's this?"
"Dunno. A man paid me to deliver it to you. Didn't say why. I didn't ask."
"What'd this man look like?"
"Average but had a tattoo on his face. That's all I know." The kid shrunk back from the bar and disappeared out the door.
Tattooed face huh? Corso eyed the package. It wasn't ticking or moving. He flipped it over, the paper crackled while he unfolded the edges to reveal the contents.
Torchy!
The scope was different, and the grips changed, but it was his blaster, he had no doubt. A rolled-up note was stuck through the trigger guard. He gripped the small square of flimsi between thumb and index finger and flipped it open to the writing.
If you want to save our woman, meet me in the Works at the Cresh-22 and Leth-97 junction. Skavak.
So many emotions struck Corso at once, he'd be on his ass had he been standing. "Skavak. You sonofabitch," he growled under his breath. What the hell was he up to now and where the hell was Ky?
He slammed back the remainder of his drink, snagged Torchy off the bar and stomped out. Save our woman. Our woman. Save. What did he mean—save? Anger, heartache, and fear for her burned the alcohol from his brain while he fretted in the back of the taxi. He was sprinting as soon as his feet touched the ground only stopping long enough to get his bearings from a plaque on the wall displaying a map of the Works. Out of breath when he skidded to a halt just short of the meeting place, he slipped into the shadows.
Water sluiced through giant pipes overhead, air recycling vents popped and hissed and the drone of machinery hung in the empty space with a faint monotonous hum. The place smelled of mold and oil and fried circuitry, the pavement slick under his boots.
"Saw you arrive," Skavak's voice boomed out of the darkness up ahead.
"Where is she?" Corso yelled back.
"We gonna meet face to face or just bellow at each other like two Banthas in heat?"
"Count of three, we both step into the light. If you plan on shooting, kill me with the first shot, you won't get a second chance."
"Don't want you dead, farm boy. She needs us both."
Countdown, one—two—three. Blasters aimed, stepping on light feet, fingers on triggers, thoughts of one woman stretched between them keeping them both alive.
"Where is she?" Corso repeated.
"They took her almost two weeks ago. She sent me with her datapad and a message."
"Who took her?"
"Beryl betrayed us. The GenoHaradan have her."
"You left her?" Corso took a step forward then stopped.
"It's what she wanted, and if I hadn't, I'd be dead, and she'd still be gone, but you wouldn't know. They wanted her alive, me not so much. Think about it."
Corso went still as death, his voice cold as a slab. "If it weren't for her, I'd shoot you where you stand, you murdering bastard. Slide the datapad over, deliver her message and get the fuck out before I change my mind."
Skavak curled his lip. "If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be here, and that's not how this is gonna go. I'll keep it all until I have your word you'll take me along. Even if you took the datapad off my dead body, without the message, I doubt it'd mean much."
Corso advanced another step, his forehead creased into two canyons between his brows. "That's not your style, Skavak. Self-preservation at all cost. Tell me why."
Skavak shrugged. "This is the first and last decent thing I'll ever do in my life, and I won't let you rob me of it."
"Bullshit." Corso's brows knit closer together then arched into twin peaks of disbelief. "Kriffing hell. You're in love with her."
A dismissive chuckle barked from Skavak's throat. "You forget who you're talking to, kid. But, she does get in your head, doesn't she?"
Corso's tone lowered to a growl. "Give me the datapad and the message and leave."
Skavak shook his head. "Not gonna happen. She's counting on me and you. If you're not man enough to put her before your pride let me know now. I'll find other options."
"From what I've heard, you've burned way too many bridges for any other options."
"I'll walk through that fire if I need to. Will you?"
Gears ground in Corso's brain slinging his thoughts willy-nilly. The man standing before him had betrayed them on Port Nowhere and sold the weapons that murdered his family. A man she now trusted with her life. Ky's smile and laugh, brushing her hair, stroking her skin, loving her. If he killed the man, he'd kill her as sure as if he'd pulled the trigger himself.
Scourge's words never strayed too far. 'Be the man she needs you to be.'
Corso nodded. "For her sake, I'd crawl. I'm listening."
"I know the Mando, and the Wookie are here with her ship. We'll need them. Make the call."
Corso fished in his pocket for the communicator with one hand while keeping his blaster aimed at Skavak with the other. He flicked through the frequencies and pressed the connect button when he found Akaavi's.
"Didn't expect to ever hear from you, vod. What's up?"
"Ky's in big trouble. I need you, Bowdaar, Gus, and the ship. I'll be there soon. And I'm bringing someone with me. Promise not to shoot. He has to stay alive, for now."
"Skavak?"
"Yes. Give me your word, Akaavi."
"You have it."
"Well. Partners again, farm boy." Skavak said. "I'll lower mine if you'll lower yours."
"Truce, until this is over. That's the best you're gonna get."
Both holstered their blasters, Skavak bent to pick up the hat he'd dropped to the ground, neither removed their hands from their weapons grips while they made their way to the spaceport.
Ky's crew stood in a straight line across the loading ramp, arms crossed and faces set in grim masks. Silence, suspicion, and hatred was the tension spring in their midst, compressed and waiting to uncoil at the slightest provocation.
Akaavi stepped forward. "Your weapons. Hand them over."
"Not part of the deal," said Skavak. "If I wanted you dead, there are better ways and a lot less messy for me. So, are we gonna stand out here and sling shit like monkeys in a zoo, or are we gonna to go get our girl? We don't have much time, and neither does she."
Clearance received, take off easy, the ship hung in the black a few parsecs from Coruscant. Skavak was in the cargo hold under the watchful eye of Bowdaar. He sat on a crate rolling a data crystal between his fingers and glanced up as the others entered the room.
"The first message?" asked Corso.
"Sounds familiar, might be a name I've heard before. Don't know exactly who or what it is, but it's just one word. Scourge."
"Are you sure?" said Akaavi.
"That's what she said. That and one other word, which you'll get once you've retrieved this Scourge."
"Why the hell would she need Lord Scourge?" said Akaavi.
Corso rubbed the back of his neck. "I have no idea. You still got the contact info for Seph? He'll know where Scourge is."
"We keep in touch from time to time. Seph it is then."
"Seph Okarr? I know him," said Skavak. "You wanna refresh my memory about the other one?"
Gus scratched behind his ear. "Sith Lord. Hates everyone. He'll hate you too. Doesn't take much to set him off either, so you should probably drop the smartass routine."
Skavak smiled. "It's part of my charm."
"Tell me how that works out when your throat's grinning from ear to ear."
A/N: Title inspired by a line from 'A Day in the Life' by the Beatles