"You're the sergeant's jedi?" the clone asked. N'Dara was shocked when he lifted his helmet. He appeared twice as old as some of them. It silenced her objection to the label.
The clone shot out his hand politely. "Cute freckles. A'den Skirata."
"N'Dara Jouselle," she said as she shook.
"I know."
She made a face at the beaming Walon Vau when she turned.
"We all caught up, then?" Wad'e asked. He'd ridden in with the other half of the Kyrimorut component, them having been on an… ahem… ERRaND… when the call for more bodies went out.
"Some day we're just going to meet for a bowl of noodles," Dara promised the purple-encased suit of armor.
"I'll wear my shades," A'den volunteered. Pretended to block the beam with his hand over his eyes- - bucket back in place.
"When you reach my age you stop caring what other people make of your fashion choices."
"What about frivolous spending? Friends don't let friends waste cred on violent paint jobs."
"Suck me."
Enacca boxed his ears like he was a cub. Chakkyr showed his bottom teeth. All of them.
"Ladies present. Got it," Wad'e huffed.
"Gotta set a good example for the lads," Vau chided. Offered his arm to his girl. "Just this way. I believe you'll find the path marked clearly…"
.
Path was clear. Getting in was not uncontested. That accomplished, however, left them with the dilemma once again of taking prisoners or leaving witnesses.
"Into the cells," N'Dara suggested. "If their kind wants them they can come and get them."
Atin moved to shove one of the uniformed guards and took an elbow in the gut. Smashed the dikut's olecranon for his trouble as only one of them was clad head-to-toe in beskar. But that wasn't his problem.
Vau made it his.
"I'd rather not have to use you as an example, friend," Vau threatened. "Shift it. Quickly."
One of them didn't move fast enough. He shot his foot—the toe of his boot. He was tired of finding the shells of fighting men in these places. Like no one had bothered with them since the war. Like they were of no use to anyone.
Rats got to them. Wounds festered. Poison crept up legs, from fingertips into arms. Boiled there and blackened and fed the hate in his heart.
There was just enough silence to hear the man suck in breath to scream his agony to his forebears. Then there was just enough of that to raise the fine hairs on the back of their necks when Vau silenced him.
"I said…" he reiterated, his face an ugly mask of loathing. "Shift. It."
Unsurprisingly, none hesitated to hustle.
When Chakkyr pulled charges from his satchel one of the captives moved to stop him.
"What are you doing?"
Vau glanced over his shoulder at the Wookie's gruff response.
"That's—that's murder. There are-"
"None in that hole who would give you the same consideration," Vau told him.
The man was horrified. Officer. Had to be. Vau had a sixth sense.
"There is no honor in this."
"Look at your men, sir, and tell me you feel they were honored as prisoners of war. How many died before we came for you? And, food for thought, the Republic you fought for? Not a thing anymore. Palpatine took it over and now it's the Galactic Empire. Instead of Seps there are Rebels. And neither one of them hired me to come for you."
The faces wore varying expressions of disbelief and confusion.
"Lads, this way," Wad'e called softly. "Let him sort them."
"Is that true? Sergeant? Is it true? We lost the war?"
"Technically it was won. You can go back, reenlist. Tell whatever tale you'd like of how you won your freedom. You'd be a stormy now. Stormtroopers and shock troopers. That's what the regular CTs became. Not sure if that's good or bad."
"If we don't… you're going to just leave us here?"
"Well, I'd rather not leave you here."
N'Dara interrupted. "We're not leaving you here. If for no other reason than that I need to know what you know. You're not the only ones taken. Left behind."
A'den Skirata ducked his head, then he doffed his buy'ce. "We'll make a home for you, get you treated and get you back on your feet. You have options now, outside of the employ of slavers and cloners."
One of the men nodded readily.
Enacca came over. Crouched and gestured to her back again.
She wanted to carry the man. The sight of his bare feet—barely feet still—it broke her heart.
"Mij Gilamar is on Mandalore and we're set up with medical," Kom'rk told them.
His brother reached out. "Let her help you, vod. We need to move fast."
"And I'm a liability. I'd be better off asking you for your blaster."
The blue-haired jedi cracked a smile. "You'll find us a hard sell on that one, soldier. Buck up and do what you're told. Give me three more weeks of following orders, then you decide for yourself. Deal? In a month, if you still feel that way, ask Sergeant Vau to ring my comm and I'll make arrangements for you."
"You believe? You're that certain?"
"I do and I am."
He nodded. Reached up at the beckoning gesture of the other Wookie and set his less-damaged foot in her hand to boost himself higher on Rundyyyshk's back.
"Good job," N'Dara cooed. Patted his arm. Looked to her left and let out a long-suffering sigh. "If you'll just excuse me, your erudite Sergeant Vau looks to be running low on expletives and near to slotting your commander."
"See if he can find my kal, ma'am," the young man offered. "Watson's an absolute ass."
She lifted her fingertips to her lips. Whistled sharply.
"Sweet cheeks. The men say they're ready to be done here. Walk away and leave it to him to follow or wait for the rockslide."
Atin laughed. The more he worked with this one the more he liked her. If she wasn't for his training sergeant he could curate himself a nice little kebiin harem. He liked a theme.
.
.o0o.
.
Walon arched up under her, kept his roar in his throat so that only the tightening of his hands at her waist and the way he bowed betrayed his ultimate satisfaction.
When his body relaxed he let his head fall back onto the pillow.
"Haar'chak. I wanted that to last so much longer. You feel so fekking good on me."
She smiled down at him. Petted the rounded muscle of his delts, then stroked down his chest.
"I love the way you're shaped," she told him, tracing his lats and then the narrow waist. Ran her fingernails over the skin beside his bellybutton. The hair that dusted his body was straight and silky-fine. So fine it was almost colorless.
"That's my line, deliciousness. Someday I'm going to figure out what you are so I can brag about banging it."
Her laugh was breathless. "I'm human, Walon," she complained good-naturedly. He refused to believe it.
"I've known humans, brat. You're not far off, but…"
Her arms went wide. "People have freckles! Lots of people have freckles! And lots of people's freckles get worse in the sun!"
"Yeah. People have freckles that are red or brown. Not blue, doll face."
"Red heads have red freckles. Brunettes have brown freckles…" She rocked her head to the side. Touched the two dark places on his collarbone before tickling the smattering of tiny flat moles on his rib cage. "I have blue hair. Thus, blue freckles."
"And there's my argument made for me. Have you met anyone else who professes to be human with a blue pelt?"
She twisted her lips. Considered. "I'm sure I have…"
The world was full of extraordinary beings. Near-humans and humans of every shape and size and coloration pattern.
He made a thoughtful face. Traced his thumbs inward toward her own umbilicus. Tasty little thing. Made just the right shape for him to hold just like this. He teased the pads of his fingers down the faint line of royal blue that fanned out like a long, narrow diamond.
"And this little treasure trove?" he asked.
She blushed. "Humans have body hair, Walon."
"Not like this," he murmured, arching up a little under her to nip her bottom lip. It was the only place she did, the mound that covered her secrets. He'd thought perhaps she'd had something professionally done, but knew now that she'd never been plagued with the darkened fuzz that some human women so hated. He didn't mind it. Honestly preferred a natural look to an over-groomed, hairless adult woman any day.
N'Dara whimpered when his thumb struck lower. Circled and pressed.
"And this…" he whispered to her.
"What?"
"This little gem here. Flatter. Wider. Angled differently. I love it. Just perfect, drayc murcyur'ika. Like you were made for me. Made for this."
She gasped and arched toward him as he plied the button at the top of her secrets. Her skin was flushed such a pretty pink and as he watched she caught that full bottom lip of hers in her teeth.
"I hate you."
"I know it. Tell me again."
"I hate you."
His breath rushed in and out as she moved against his hand, his softening dick still twitching inside her from his second climax.
"Walon!"
"I hear you."
Her eyes defocused and the mouth fell open. He felt her clench around him. Jerked her to the side, covering her with his body as she trembled through the orgasm. Kissed her before she could scream it.
"I can't believe that pilot couldn't get you off."
She swallowed hard. "What?"
His eyes glittered like cold stones as he looked down at her.
"I don't understand…" she complained.
"The pilot. At the space port. The one who you said-"
"Oh my god," she complained breathlessly. "Are you still hung up on the guy from Esseles?"
"I just-"
Now it was her head that crashed back to the pillowtop in frustration.
"Not everybody's as good in bed as you. You have got to let that go!"
"Do you still have his number?"
"I'm sure I do. Let me think for a minute."
His face went incredulous. "You have his number memorized."
"No. But it should be saved in my comm. I just can't remember what his name is…"
That drew forth a deep rumble of dark mirth.
"I hate you."
"So you say."
He bent, kissed her. Withdrew and eased off of her. Kissed her again, softer this time, before lying beside her, tracing the long, lean line of her. The once-raised scars at her hip were nearly flat now, although the ochre marks were still clearly evident.
"I love you, vutyc talyc."
She smiled up at him, her belly knotting. The first time he'd told her they'd been in bed, too, him frenzied over her and shouting it in his throes.
"I love you."
"Come home with me."
"I can't. I just… I can't, Walon."
"Not to Kyrimorut. Just to Enceri. Or… Keldabe. Let me show you the Oyubaat and get you fitted at the beskar-goran there."
He had her. He knew it. The blue in her eyes sparked. Changed even as he watched it. How had he ever thought her a cool customer?
"I need to-"
"I've got it," he objected. She had creds stashed under an assumed identity. He had no idea what she did to earn her keep now, although he knew she picked up odd jobs. Not he same kinds of odd jobs he picked up…
"I won't understand them," she pouted.
"I'll be right beside you. You won't be the first non-Mando we've taken in."
"People will think I'm your cafarel. That you're setting me up because we have an arrangement."
"I could give a kriff what people think. Although it's far more likely that they'll simply believe you to be my partner—wisely come over to our way of doing things and in need of our superior gear."
He could think of an easier way. That she come home with him as his wife.
She wasn't there yet, though. And, honestly, he didn't blame her. He'd had decades on his own and thought he'd wanted it that way. Now, when he finally recognized the appeal in home and hearth, he found himself drawn to a woman who needed more time. He reached out. Stroked down the tanned flesh on her arm. Smiled to himself.
"Let me think about it."
"Of course."
Gotcha.
Mine, his satisfaction growled.
He smacked a loud kiss to her brow and hopped off the bed.
"Offer stands. You know that. Hungry?"
She gave herself just another moment before rising, too. She could hear him moving into the 'fresher.
"I might take you up on it just so I could find out where you buy your mattresses," she called over the sound of the water.
"Be my veriduur and stay in my bed all day," he called back. "I'll buy you an even better one so you can earn your keep."
He winked when she appeared in the doorway. Reached to tug at her hair.
The sun had lightened streaks into it. He could see where it had been exposed to the sea and salt and changed color accordingly. It was almost sky-colored at the tips and down the length near her face. That must be the part that showed under her cap when she wore her habitual ponytail. He'd find out here shortly. The proximity timer told him that they were nearing their jump point. Two hours and she'd be getting kitted up again.
"Nice to be back on your own ship again, isn't it," she purred as she curled around him to hug him hard, arms wrapped around his washboard-flat stomach and curves pressed to his back.
"It has it's perks," he agreed.