The hover-stretcher barely moved when Ky was transferred from the medbay bed. Gaunt and frail and too small to register the weight, her body was nearly lost in the folds of the sheet covering her. The bruises were gone, the cuts and abrasions healed, but new scars marred her skin like trenches of war. Her hair had started to grow, spiking around her head like a crown.
Her hand was cool and dry and taken from him when Doc and the medtechs began to move. Bowdaar, Gus, and Akaavi stayed behind, and he was alone with the residual sensation of her hand in his and his feet trudging to the waiting speeders.
Kriffing Coruscant. Corso stared out the clear canopy of the enclosed speeder that followed the vehicle transporting Ky and Doc to the Medical wing of the University. Levels snapped by with military precision and windows blinked, backlit with a yellow glow or shaded against intruding eyes. The steady traffic whined a bitter reminder that life goes on with people scurrying to fulfill their tiny purposes in their own tiny worlds. Stars, I hate this kriffing planet.
The landing pad approached with a bright neon sign hanging from the ceiling declaring the destination in glaring red letters; Fobosi District. Arrowed guideposts directed travelers to various institutions and points of interest; Fobosi District Medical Center, University of Coruscant, Skydome Botanical Gardens. The Works sign was a sub note, this way and down, watch your step.
The medical wing buzzed with students and doctors and an intercom that summoned people hither and thither with its disembodied voice. Hours old caf, the bite of antiseptic and strong disinfectant tried and failed to mask odors that nobody wanted to name. The sobbing of bad news, the crying of good news bounced from the walls where miracles dwelled, and death lurked in every chink and crack. Numb to the green paint, the mirror slick floors, and the sound of his own breathing, Corso nearly collided with Doc who'd come to a stop just outside double sliding doors with a 'staff only' sign.
"This is as far as you go," Doc said. "There's a waiting room over there, but trust me, this isn't going to be an overnight stay or an outpatient procedure."
He laid his hand on Corso's shoulder. "Give Ole Doc time. I'll figure this out, and she'll be right as rain before you know it."
Corso's eyes brimmed with fear at letting her out of his sight. "Can I have just a minute with her, please? I'll be careful."
Doc patted his shoulder and turned away. "Just a minute."
All the words Corso wanted to say sat in a thick clump at the back of his throat. Her face, pale and unaware lay a breath away with skin stretched so tight over cheekbones, chin, and jaw, it might split if he blew on it. He stroked the tips of her hair, silky spindles tickling the pads of his fingers. An utterance slipped past his lips, six words, a plea, and a declaration. "Don't leave me. I love you."
A kiss, light as a whisper, urgent as a prayer pressed against her forehead. Corso straightened his back, ramrod stiff and full of pretense that he was fine. "You can take her now."
Doors opened, and she disappeared behind a wall of steel. Corso froze, staring at the sign, dumbfounded as if lightning had lit him up and burned him out. A kindly voice spoke to him in words he barely heard and led him to the visitor's lounge.
He crashed on the couch, a derelict wreck sinking slowly for four days, existing on caf and half-eaten sandwiches from the courtesy cart that rolled by twice a day.
Doc came by once spouting medical jargon that hardly qualified as a valid language. Something about an exchange transfusion, liver damage and kick-starting collagen production and temporary infusions for her bones. Subatomic particles, half tech, half organic embedded in her cells. No removal, no cure. Still comatose, but alive. Thank the Maker, alive.
'Love her strong.' His internal voice, the one that had seen him through the horror of Singat 9 broke through the stupor. 'She needs you strong so get the fuck up.'
Corso scrubbed his hands through his hair, once again aware of the noise of humanity around him. The sage green walls and the slick floors came into focus. One foot in front of the other, it was a start. He stopped by the desk to leave a message for Doc to contact him if there was any change and that he'd be back in a couple of days.
Corso found Bowdaar and Akaavi in the common room of the Soledad, growling at each other over a game of dejarik. Someone's Kintan strider was doing a victory dance over a downed Houjiix. They paused when he entered.
"No word yet," Corso said before either had a chance to ask. "And I don't know how long we'll be here. I have to speak with Rona, and she's not gonna be pleased that I just bailed on her. You guys look like you could use some time off the ship and I'd like you both to go with me."
"You smell like osik." Akaavi wrinkled her nose.
Corso pulled the top of his shirt out and buried his nose, coming up for air with a grimace. "Shower's on the list and can you have C2 scrounge up something to eat? I 'bout passed out on my way here and I won't do Ky any good if I die of starvation." He almost chuckled at the expression of disbelief on their faces. "Yeah, I'm a bit slow on the uptake, but I do catch on eventually."
They took a taxi to the Factory District and stairs to level 5093 and the Warehouse District, keeping to the shadows and avoiding contact with passersby, though Bowdaar drew some unwanted attention. Corso had patrolled here with Sprocket and knew every alley, security cam, and blind spot.
The atmosphere of the Short Shrift cantina was unfriendly on the best of days, now it was downright hostile. Jix, the Houk, stood solitary guard in front of Rona's office. Ando, the human, was nowhere in sight. Bowdaar covered their backs, Akaavi stood at Corso's side.
"I need to see Rona," said Corso.
The Houk's waddle quivered when he spoke. "She no want see you. Go way."
"Jix, I kicked your ass once, what the hell do you think she's gonna do?" Corso hitched his head at Akaavi who obliged with her best scowl and showed the edge of her teeth. "She hasn't had a fight in weeks, and you know how that shit builds up with her kind. Just be a good fella and let Rona know I'm here. I don't want any trouble and trust me, neither do you."
Corso glanced at the security camera over the door. Rona already knew he was there, Jix was just for show. Cleaning up after a bar fight was expensive and something she'd weigh heavily in her decision. The door slid open.
Rona stood behind her desk. "You've got some nerve, cousin."
"Just here to talk, Rona. Sorry, I had to leave in a hurry, but there wasn't time to explain."
"The spacer bitch again, huh? You had a good thing here. You sure she's worth it?"
Corso didn't hit women, but right now, family or not, the urge to slap the smirk off Rona's face was damned tempting. "Yeah, I'm sure."
"You never were too bright, cuz. If you came for severance pay, there isn't any. Replacing assets is costly. Nothing personal, it's just business."
Just business. How many times had he heard that before and it still smarted. "Nice to know where I stand."
Rona sat, her hands pretending to be busy with her datapad. "You knew where you stood from the beginning. I never bullshitted you about anything. What do you want, Corso? I'm busy."
"Came to say goodbye. Where's Nay'la? I didn't see her in the cantina."
A snarl lifted one side of Rona's mouth. "I figured you'd taken your little piece of tail with you. She could be dead for all I care. Haven't seen her since you left. Never showed up for work."
Corso's gut twisted as if he'd just now seen Rona for who she really was, and he wanted to part of it. "Then I guess we got nothing left to talk about."
"Just one last thing." Rona leaned back in the chair, her eyes small and mean. "Don't come running back to me when she breaks your heart again and you've got no place else to go. I don't give second chances, not even to family. You're on your own."
Corso glanced at Bowdaar and then Akaavi. "Aliit ori'shya tal'din," he said in less than perfect Mando'a. "Goodbye, Miss Riggs."
"Your Mando'a could use some work, but vor entye, thank you," said Akaavi after they'd left the cantina.
"Your cousin has no honor and does not deserve to share the same blood as you," growled Bowdaar.
Praise from the Wookie and the Mandalorian left Corso wordless. He could only nod his head as they strode forward, three abreast, as close to family as he'd ever get.
Akaavi and Bowdaar tucked into an alley near Corso's apartment, close enough to come to his aid should he need them. He had one more thing to do.
The stairs to his apartment still canted to the left, the corridors gloomy from fixtures so dirty light never escaped the layers of grime. He halted in front of the door, glanced left and right, keyed in the code and toed the door open. The smell of old rot drifted through the entrance. No blaster fire, no knife lunges in the dark. He reached around the wall, pressed the light switch and entered.
Corso squinted against the sudden glare of the single bulb. The musty smell of disuse and long absence mixed with the pungent odor of decay hanging in a near-visible cloud around the unemptied garbage bin.
A scuffle of feet from behind. Corso pulled his blaster and whirled around. Sprocket stood in the doorway.
"You alone?" asked Corso.
"Yeah." Sprocket raised his hands to prove they were empty. "What the hell did I tell you about turning your back to an open door? Can I come in? Probably be wise to close the damned thing, and my ass feels a little exposed right now."
"Just keep your hands where I can see them. The implants still on?"
"Turned off the comm and locater 'bout half an hour ago. Rona won't be happy, but, fuck her. Stinks worse than shit in here."
"Ya think?"
"Damn, you're twitchy. You got enemies I don't know about? Can I put my hands down now? Elbows start to ache after a while. It's an age thing."
"Sure, but no quick movements. Torchy's got a bit of a hair trigger."
"Still naming your weapons, huh? Thought you'd grown out of that shit."
"Some things just deserve a name. As for enemies, the line starts on the right. Why are you here?"
"Mind if I sit down?" Sprocket pulled one of the kitchen chairs from under the table and sank into the seat. "I just wanted to say goodbye out of Rona's earshot. After you disappeared a few weeks ago, she went ballistic, going on and on about how ungrateful you were and how she took you in, gave you a job, protected you only to be betrayed. I take it your meeting didn't go well?"
"It wasn't pleasant, but she was my last tie to Ord Mantell. It's actually a relief it's over. I had to leave when I did, Sprocket. A matter of life and death. There wasn't time to explain."
"I figured as much, even said so to Rona, but she wasn't having any of it. And put the damned blaster away before your arm gets tired and you accidentally put a hole in my gut."
"Sorry about that. Trust is on a long waiting list these days." Corso holstered the blaster.
Sprocket laid his beefy forearms on the table and twined his hands into one fist. "I hear that. Rona's in way over her head this time. Crawled in bed with the Hutts and the Black Sun higher-ups are watching. It's got everyone on edge. She brokered a spice deal, lucrative shit for both sides until somebody gets greedy, and someone always gets greedy. Territorial lines got blurred in some districts, and when they come unblurred, all hell's gonna break loose. You and yours need to be gone before that happens."
"We'll be gone as soon as we can. Got circumstances, you understand."
Sprocket nodded. "Rumor is there's a Hutt bounty on your lady friend and her crew. Rona's not above selling you out to gain an edge if she needs it. Just a word to the wise."
"I appreciate the heads up, but why tell me? You could get a sweet promotion for turning us in."
"I don't like back-stabbing deals. You were one of us, and you were her family. People shouldn't fuck with family. It would've been better if she didn't know you were here, but, a day late and a credit shy as they say. Stay off the grid, keep out of sight and for fuck sake, watch your back. Take the warning for what it's worth. You aren't safe here."
"Hell, why do you put up with it? She'll get you killed one of these days," said Corso. "Why don't you come with me?"
Sprocket shook his head. "Naw. Rona's living on debt she can't pay. Sooner or later it'll all go south, and I aim to be here when it does. When her fall comes, I won't be the one to push her over the cliff, but I'll be the one to pick up the pieces. Some people just can't be saved from themselves."
"I know. I tried to talk some sense into her a few years ago, but she hasn't been that little girl on Ord Mantell for a long time. She didn't listen then, and she won't listen now."
Sprocket stood and stretched his back. "I'm getting too old for this shit. A nice cushy desk job might be in the cards after all."
"What about Nay'la? Rona said she never showed up to work."
"I'm watching after the girl." Sprocket raised his hands, warding off Corso's frown. "Whoa. Not like that. Rona wanted to start pimping her out after you left. Figured the girl might have something special to offer since she caught your eye."
Corso cringed at the implication. "We did more talking than anything else, mostly about Ky."
"I thought as much. Nay'la's a sweet thing and deserves better. I'll get her off planet as soon as I can, I give you my word. I help one or two a year get off world. Don't give a shit about Rona's profits, or the Hutts, it's the Justicars I want to see taken down. Had a kid brother once, don't have him anymore. Anyway, I better go, and you need to get out of here too."
"Just need to get something first." Corso headed toward the bedroom closet, pried a panel loose and reached inside the wall, pulling out two objects before returning to Sprocket.
"Well, I'll be damned. An old slug thrower."
"Yep. Meet Sergeant Boom-Boom and Hewie. Both have saved my life more than once. You better get going before you're missed." Corso grasped Sprocket's extended forearm in a tight grasp. "I'll give you a few minutes before I slip out. And thanks again, Sprocket. It's been an honor to know you."
"You too, kid. See ya around."
Corso returned to the bedroom and emptied the contents of the drawers and closet into a rucksack, slung the rifle over his shoulder and grabbed the vibrosword. The gin bottle winked seductively from the top of the conservator, he licked his lips and swallowed imaginary fire. Caught in the allure for just one second, he winked back and walked away. Loose ends tied into a secure, if ugly knot, he turned off the lights and turned his back on the past.
To wait are the longest days when sleep won't come, and wakefulness is filled with apprehension, and the end is too far away to be dreamed. Corso lived in between trips to the medical center where the 'staff only' sign greeted him and the ship where anticipation poked into his nerves like stinging nettles.
'Stable but unresponsive.' 'Alive but unresponsive.' Doc's words revolved like a wheel, spinning in monotonous circles without going anywhere.
One week, two weeks. Corso marked time and waited.