Chapter Six
AITHNE
They went east. Zaalbar took the lead. It was now his own personal mission to protect Aithne, and to do that, he felt he needed to be in the front, the first to see and fight off what would harm her. Carth tailed the line, providing a rear guard and ranged support with his blasters. Mission and Aithne filled in the middle, Aithne with vibroblades again. She wasn't going to let Zaalbar face the rhakghouls in melee combat on his own.
"Now, you understand that when we run into trouble, I want you back with Carth," Aithne told her. "In cover if you can find it, and always at least a meter and a half from any enemy coming at us. Use that stealth field generator if you have to," she added, with another nod at Mission's gear. She hadn't realized at first, but Mission had swapped out Aithne's borrowed belt for one of her own. "Glad to see you have one and know how to use it. That's never been one of my particular talents."
"So, what's with you and Carth?" Mission asked, completely ignoring her instructions.
Aithne took in a breath. The sewers were loud, full of running water and other flowing liquids, as well as echoes off the metal walls from their various unsavory inhabitants. But that didn't mean Carth wouldn't hear from where he walked three or four meters back. Then again, she'd hardly hesitated to talk about him with Mission right in front of his face before.
That didn't make the argument they'd had before right, though, she thought.
"We shouldn't have pulled you into that fight," she said. "I'll try to make sure nothing like that happens again. Carth's and my disagreements are Carth's and my disagreements. They have nothing to do with you, and the way we both tried to use you back there was, frankly, inexcusable. Excuse me anyway?" She glanced at Mission and tried a smile.
Mission laughed at her. "Sheesh, it was more fun than any talk I've had in a long time. Big Z's not much of a conversationalist. And watching you go off on him?" She whistled. "Did he really accuse you of blowing up that ship you guys were on?"
Aithne grimaced. "No. Not in so many words. But I was the newest recruit to the ship, and Bastila and the Jedi requested me to be there—something I had no idea about until he told me, by the way—so he thinks it's suspicious that I was one of the survivors. Frankly, from what he said, he might have just as easily been insinuating I'm special forces on a secret mission he doesn't know about or something, but the point is, he doesn't trust me, and it's almost entirely because of some crap that happened in his past that he won't tell me about but lets dictate everything he does and feels anyway."
"And it's frustrating, because he's cute and nice, and when he's not out thinking you're about to stab him in the back, you really like him," Mission summarized.
Aithne looked at her. Mission shrugged. "You said it, not me. The guy's old enough to be my father. Probably about ten years older'n' you. He does have nice hair. And I guess he's taller than you. Does it get at you worse because he likes you when he's not out thinking you're about to stab him in the back? Because he does, you know? All that stuff he said about you being the most skilled woman he's ever met and you guys getting along, even after you'd had that massive fight."
"Yeah, that's pretty much it," Aithne agreed. "It's like I said before: it's just exhausting. I don't have time for it, and I don't want it. I'm good with Professional Military Man with Trust Issues. I'm good with him being my friend. I'm not good with this back and forth. But that's what I've been stuck with the past few days. Leaves me a little bit crazy. Meaner than I want to be. I'm working on it. Guess one advantage of getting off Taris is I'll be done with Major Paranoia."
Mission's lekku twitched. "Aithne?" she said.
"Yeah?"
"Keep working on that meanness," Mission advised.
There were several skirmishes before they finally reached the blue force shield Mission talked about. Aithne found another Outcast journal, this one even older than the last. She gave it to Mission to keep with the other. She had a feeling it would be important. But she had still seen no trace of Rukil's lost apprentice.
When they did reach the force shield, Mission shut it down just as easily as she'd retrieved the mines in their path. The Upper Sewers smelled slightly better than the Lower Sewers and seemed somehow older. The passages were eerily quiet, aside from the dripping of sewage, and Aithne was more than a little creeped out. She felt like the bantha when the hunter is near.
There were a few skirmishes in the Upper Sewers as the company trudged on through the gloom and muck, but not nearly so many as below. The company, too, was quieter, more aware. Aithne could feel Mission beside her grow more and more uncomfortable, and assumed they were nearing the lair of the rancor monster. Finally, Mission spoke into the silence.
"Hey, Carth," she said in a forced light tone, calling back to the pilot, who'd drawn closer since they'd entered the Upper Sewers and things had gone quiet. "You're a pilot for the Republic, right? You've been all over the galaxy I bet, right? So, tell me, how would you rate Taris compared to other worlds you've seen?"
Opening a conversation with Carth had been the exact right thing, Aithne thought, as his voice came back, warm, steady, and calm. Just like on Endar Spire after Trask's death, it put her almost instantly at ease in the eerie silence and the building apprehension over the rancor monster.
"To be honest, Mission, Taris would rate pretty low," he said. "The prejudice, the rich spoiling themselves while the poor are crushed beneath them: not a pretty picture."
Mission forgot her fear as she rose in defense of her home of nine years. "Yeah, but that's only since the Sith occupation. Before that . . ." she thought for a moment. "Well, I guess it wasn't all that different, really. Hmmm. Maybe Taris ain't as great as I thought, you know?"
Carth had drawn level with them now. He reached out and put a hand on Mission's thin shoulder. "Trust me, Mission. Honestly, I think your leaving here with us is for the best. There are a lot worlds better than Taris. There are worse, too," he added. "But Taris is no place for a kid to live on her own, even a kid who has a Wookiee to look out for her." he finished with a glance at Zaalbar.
Ooh, bad move, flyboy, Aithne thought. Massive tactical error. Mission turned violet. She threw Carth's hand off her shoulder, furious.
"Hey, I ain't no kid! I look out for Zaalbar as much as he looks out for me! Big Z's my friend, not my babysitter, and I ain't looking for someone to fill the position! Geez," she complained, "I come ask you a question, and you give me a lecture!"
Carth stiffened. "Don't you snap at me, missy! You want a lecture? How's this: only bratty little children fly off the handle because of a simple comment."
Aithne tilted her head at him. "Then Mission isn't the only bratty kid we have around, is she?" she said.
Carth's ears went red, but Mission seemed to see Aithne's remark as a defense of her position rather than a criticism of Carth's short fuse. "I don't have to take this from you, Carth! You ain't my father! So, keep your lectures inside your withered old head, 'cause I don't need 'em!"
Carth looked up again, incensed, "And I sure as hell don't need this. Let's just drop it and go back to what we're doing."
Aithne looked between the two of them, bemused, then to Zaalbar. The Wookiee met her eyes, and she could see he was smiling. She fell back beside him. "Now why didn't you swear your lifedebt to him?" she murmured under her breath. "Then Carth would've acquired a teenage ward. Sounds like he's prepared."
/They sound like parent and cub,/ Zaalbar agreed. Then he handed her a datapad. /From the dead one,/ he said, pointing at a severed arm at his feet. /I also found these chemicals within the pocket of its sleeve./ He produced three vials of green fluid.
Aithne read the datapad. Then she cleared her throat, projecting so the fuming Carth and Mission could hear. "Playtime's over, children. According to this, our rancor monster's just next door."
"Any bright ideas?" Carth asked.
"These vials contain a formula that smells like dinner to the rancor," Aithne explained, gesturing toward the glass bottles in Zaalbar's claw. "This Bek here'd planned to douse something toxic enough to destroy the rancor with it. It's a good plan, so far as it goes. Unfortunately, he wasn't fast or sneaky enough to feed the rancor before the rancor fed on him."
"I can do it," Mission volunteered. "Gimme a grenade or a mine or something. I'll pop it right in that rancor's ugly mouth and get out of there before it even knows I was there."
Aithne eyed her stealth field generator again. "From what this datapad says and the evidence of this poor guy, the rancor will come after whatever we put the chemical on pretty quick. I don't want it coming after you."
"Look, you said if I'm coming with you, I'm coming into a war," Mission said. "There's a whole lot of things out there worse than rancor monsters. If I'm coming, I'm a part of your team, you know? I'm not a kid. I can do this."
"You sure?" Carth asked. "You've picked us up a lot of mines down here. We could leave that formula corked. Have you set up a bunch of traps instead, and me and Aithne could lay down a crossfire outside."
"It'll smell me one way or the other," Mission argued. "No guarantee it won't think I smell like dinner anyway, right? At least with the formula, we'll only have one explosive to deal with. Trust me: I can handle this."
Aithne hesitated. "Alright," she agreed finally. I'll wrap the grenade in an extra shirt after I've doused it, though, just in case. Be sure you hurry."
/And be careful!/ Zaalbar roared.
Aithne prepped the grenade and wadded it up in an extra shirt they'd picked up down here. She gave it to Mission, who all but faded from sight. The door behind the place she'd been seemed to open of its own accord. From the place she stood, Aithne could see the rancor beast. To her surprise, true to her imaginings, it was nearly as big as their apartment in the Upper City. Long, yellow teeth hung over its heavy jaw. Its long, leathery arms hung at its sides, tipped with long, bloodstained claws that reminded Aithne of rusty knives. She closed her eyes and said a prayer to whatever powers existed for Mission. A few long seconds passed, then Aithne saw the rancor lurch forward with surprising grace. The grace of a predator about to kill. Aithne held her breath. The rancor snorted, opening its mouth, then roared in pain. A bright light shot out of its mouth, and blood flew everywhere inside the neighboring room, a disgusting, thick, greenish black. When the carnage cleared, there lay the rancor monster, dead.
"Well, that's entertaining, ain't it?" came a voice from beside her as Mission deactivated her stealth. She stood there, unharmed and confident, smirking at the astonishment on her companions' faces.
Aithne reached out on impulse and dragged the teenager to her. "You're alright," she gasped.
"Geez, don't go all sappy on me," Mission complained, squirming away. "I told you I could handle it."
Carth was staring. "You're the best stealth op I've ever seen," he said.
"Gee, thanks," Mission retorted. "That a soldier of so many years' experience would say that to a kid like me might be the best compliment I've ever had."
"Play nice with the other kids, Mission," Aithne told her.
"Hey, you're the one with hangups about being mean," Mission answered. "I got no problem with it."
Aithne hugged her around the shoulders again for that, and Mission groaned and pushed her away—but not too hard. They crossed the rancor room, past a pile of bones and foul-reeking offal, and into the next passage.
Opening the door, they were confronted with two Vulkar guards.
"Finally," Carth growled, drawing his blasters.
In no time at all, Mission had sliced them into the Vulkar base. The smell was immediately better; the Vulkars had their own air recycling system. And clearly weren't channeling refuse through canals. For a moment, Aithne just sagged against an empty wall. Zaalbar joined her.
/Yes, it's good to get away from the smell of the Undercity,/ he agreed, though Aithne hadn't said anything at all. Aithne held up her closed fist, and Zaalbar tapped it with his own.
"Just carbon emissions; pollution; and stale, cold fish, instead of the urine and dung of a dozen species, rust, and rhakghoul droppings."
Mission snorted. "C'mon, you babies. Let's get that accelerator for Gadon."
They fought their way through the base, which, surprisingly, was mostly occupied by droids. "They must all be at a party or something," Mission commented at the third sentient-free room. About halfway through the base, Aithne called a rest.
"I trashed the cameras a while ago," she explained. "The Vulkars won't see us taking a breather here. Besides, we just freed that waitress. I'd rather rest feeling good about myself than after a mass slaughter."
Her companions nodded. Zaalbar and Mission locked the doors to keep them safe from interruptions, and all of them flopped down on the floor, which, like at the Bek base, was clean. Aithne and Carth passed out the ration bars again, and then Mission and Zaalbar went off by themselves in a corner to talk, presumably about Zaalbar's imprisonment, his lifedebt, or what the future might hold with Aithne.
That left Aithne alone with Carth again. Aithne sat with her right arm around her right knee, holding her canteen and swirling the water inside.
"I apologized to Mission about that fight we had in front of her at lunch," she said. "I owe you an apology for that too. I didn't have any business dragging all of that out in front of her. Didn't have any business saying a lot of what I said, and in the end, I went way too far, even though you did egg me on."
"You did," Carth agreed. "But like you said, I did ask for it. And I'm not certain anything you said was actually wrong." He wasn't looking at her. Instead, he stared at the blank back wall of the base like it had the most fascinating artwork he'd ever seen on it—or like he was just that determined not to look at her. "Can't say I've been called out that way in a while. You get to a certain place in your career, when enough people outside it are gone, and—well. People stop second-guessing you, at least out loud. But here you are, probably the least professional soldier I've ever met—which isn't surprising, seeing as you never asked to be one and only just got started—saying things I never thought about before. You're really something, Aithne Moran."
"You like women who fight with you," Aithne observed softly. Carth's eyes flicked to hers, then away. "Guess it shouldn't be a surprise, twenty years in the service. Had to be some reason you thought it was worth it. Don't worry," she added. "I'm not after anything like that. Part of why I've been so frustrated. Mixed signals."
"Yeah, I'll raise my hand to that," Carth admitted. "It's just the circumstances, I think. We've been alone in this crazy situation, depending on one another for survival, away from all the dress and protocol that makes frat regs work during a military assignment. Emotions are high. Fears are too. And you're one hell of a woman. I never meant for—you know."
"I know," Aithne murmured. "All that about the circumstances—it's what I thought too. This," she gestured between them, "isn't real. But your issues are."
"That's just it, though," Carth told her. "My 'raging paranoia.' I was thinking about it today, and it's not because I don't respect or admire you. Just the opposite, in fact."
"Yeah, I thought that too," Aithne agreed.
"Five years ago, the Jedi had just finished the war with the Mandalorians," Carth explained. "Revan and Malak were heroes. I was proud to have served in their fleet. It was completely unexpected when they turned on us, invading the Republic while we were still weak. Nobody knew what to think. Least of all me."
Aithne took a drink of her water. "Don't feel so special, flyboy. It set everyone's head on end."
"I mean, our heroes had become brutal, conquering Sith," Carth continued, "and we were all but helpless before them. Think about it . . . if you can't even trust the best of the Jedi, who can you trust?"
Aithne raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall. "Actually, I think the Jedi would say Revan and Malak were less than sterling examples of the Order even before they turned to the Dark Side."
Carth looked at her then. "What do you think of the Jedi?" he asked, distracted. "I mean, I get the feeling you aren't wild about saving Bastila, or that her party ordered your transfer."
"You'd be right," Aithne agreed. "Sure you won't be shocked if I tell you, Republic?"
Carth recognized the jibe at his reaction to her views on Mandalorians. "Hah. I'm sure I might be," he said. "But I'd like to hear it anyway, if you don't mind."
Aithne shrugged. "I don't mind. I think the Jedi are mystical and out of touch when the galaxy needs practical solutions. I think all their preaching about peace and harmony is a crock when they take kids away from their families and train to repress every natural good emotion they have, and that their compassion is a joke if it doesn't translate to mercy missions when the galaxy is burning and innocents are at risk. I think the Revanchists were right. Before they turned all evil."
Carth was staring at her again. But this time, unlike his reaction outside the Lower City apartments, his eyes were soft and approving, and he was smiling like he could hardly help it. "I couldn't agree with you more," he said.
"Anyway. So what? I remind you of Revan and Malak?" She spoke it sarcastically, but Carth answered seriously.
"You have a few sentiments in common," he pointed out. "But no, that's not it. There were . . . there were others. Good, solid, trusted men who joined them. Malak and Revan and the Sith deserve to die for what they've done." Carth's voice was gaining passion and momentum, and Aithne decided now probably wasn't the time to point out that Revan was already dead. "But the men who fled the Republic and joined them are even worse. The Dark Side has nothing to do with why they joined with the Sith. They deserve no mercy!" Carth's face had grown darker and darker throughout this speech, and for the first time, Aithne could see the Dark Side in his eyes—not the mystical power that turned Jedi into parodies of themselves, saviors into brutal, superpowered war criminals. The angry and ugly passions and motivations that were somewhere inside every sentient being. For all his paranoia, Aithne hadn't seen them in Carth before. It was a big part of why she liked him: all in all, he was simply a good person. She'd known that from before they'd ever met face to face. Good people were rare enough, and Carth was good to a degree that was even rarer. But she supposed no one could be completely good.
"You say that with a lot of hatred," she observed. "But I think I get it. Someone you admired before went bad. Betrayed the Republic, betrayed you, without the excuse of a mystical evil Force trigger. Now anytime you admire anyone, you think how bad they can go. It's not healthy."
"I know," Carth said. He looked deflated, old and tired and sick. "Fear in the cockpit, like you said. Shouldn't let it fly me, especially when I might be in an entirely different system. I've become so accustomed to expecting the worst in others, and you've done nothing to deserve that. You make me nervous, sometimes. The things you say, the way you think. But everything you've done has helped us, and more than a few other people. It probably won't be a problem much longer. We'll get off Taris and head our separate ways. But for what it's worth, for however much longer we are working together, I'll be working on it." Without looking at her, he extended his hand to the side, and Aithne shook it.
"Then I think we can call a truce. If you help me figure out what to do with a Wookiee and a teenage Twi'lek when we do part ways, I'll even owe you," she told him.
"Yeah, that one's gonna be interesting," Carth agreed. "When we get back to the Republic, I can pull some strings. Fast-track approval on some family benefits to help you provide for Mission. Maybe get Zaalbar approved as a Republic attache or consultant. Whether he thinks he should or not, he should get a salary for helping you. Otherwise, his lifedebt is just another form of slavery. I'm assuming you can't pay."
"No," Aithne agreed. Now she was the one smiling at him like an idiot. "I never ran a profit margin large enough for an assistant. But you're right, and if he gets a wage, it'll make me feel a lot better about the whole thing. Thanks."
"Cheers," Carth answered.
Aithne rose. "I'm going to go check on the others. We'll move out in a little bit," she told him.
She walked over to join Zaalbar and Mission. When she asked Zaalbar about his past, he refused to talk, saying it didn't matter to his lifedebt or their future. He wasn't rude about it, and Aithne didn't get a sense of any turmoil within him—just a closed book—so she left him alone with his remaining ration bar and a half and turned to Mission instead.
"Do we need to talk about anything?" she asked.
She'd left the question open-ended, leaving it open for Mission to open a conversation about her role in the team or how she felt about leaving Taris, which seemed to be on her mind, or anything. But Mission seemed to take it as a criticism of the way they'd left their talk at lunch.
"I . . . I was a little snappish at lunch," she said. "I'm sorry about that. I get kind of touchy when it comes to Griff. It's kind of embarrassing telling people about him."
"Rule of thumb with me," Aithne advised her, "you don't ever have to tell me anything you don't want to—even if it's making you act weird and I have no context, I'll deal, or ask you to."
"No," Mission protested, lekku waving fast. "I want to tell you. We're family now, right?"
Aithne realized what she wanted. "'You have a place at my table," she repeated quietly. "A berth inside my house.' As long as you want it, so long as you accept the dangers that come with it and do your best to learn how to keep yourself safe. I'm not separating you and Zaalbar, and I'm not angry you want to stay with him."
"I was worried, you know," Mission said, "after I just said I was coming like that. I know you didn't really want me. But you won't regret letting me come along, I swear. I can look out for you just like I look out for Zaalbar. With the stealth field generator, and the mines, and a lot of other ways too, I'll bet. And it's not just Big Z, either. You know that, right? It'll be nice getting off of Taris. Seeing what else is out there, you know? Also, I owe you big for today. I came at you all wild, after asking everyone I knew for help for Big Z, and they said no. And you were a stranger. But you didn't flinch. Not even for a second. I knew then I'd be your friend forever, whatever happened."
The total honesty left Aithne without defense. Her chest hurt, and her eyes stung. She cleared her throat and drew her knees up to her chest. "I needed to use you," she said.
"Oh, I know," Mission assured her. "You didn't do it because you're a good person or nothing. But that thing you did, with the counting, when I was scared and in a panic? You did that because you're a good person. It reminded me of my brother too, which is probably why I got mad at you a little after that. I never knew my parents. My brother always looked out for me. He's the one who brought me to Taris. I was just a kid, only five, but I remember the trip—if you could call it that." She looked away from Aithne, and her lekku twitched. "We were stuffed inside a packing crate in a star freighter's cargo hold with just enough food and water to make the trip. Not exactly first class, you know?"
"Think I do," Aithne confessed, smiling. "I'm a scout. Over the years, I've probably traveled almost every way you could think of."
Mission smiled back, slightly less nervous. "I don't know the whole story—I was pretty young. But my brother owed a lot of money. Might even have been a few arrest warrants out for him. I don't know." She shrugged. "The only way to get off the planet was to smuggle ourselves out. I mean, I don't want to make it sound like we were criminals . . ." she hesitated. "Well, maybe my brother was." She looked down, flushing. "See, this is why I don't like to talk about it. It makes Griff sound worse than he really was. My brother had his problems, but he always looked out for me."
Until he didn't, Aithne thought. "He's your family," she said, keeping her voice neutral.
Mission brightened. "Yeah! That's what I'm trying to say! Without my brother, I don't know where I'd be. He gambled," she admitted, "and drank. And he was always borrowing money for his latest get-rich-quick scheme. But he had a good heart, you know? He taught me how to survive. He showed me how to slice into a computer's security system, how to get inside a locked door without the entrance codes, and how to spot a wealthy mark for a quick shell game."
It sounded like he'd been leading Mission down a path headed nowhere fast, Aithne reflected. She met Zaalbar's eyes over the space between them. The Wookiee's expression was guarded, and he made a slight gesture with one claw. He didn't approve of Griff either, Aithne saw, but he wouldn't advise telling Mission so. "How long's it been since he left?" she asked instead.
Mission didn't catch Aithne's assumption that he'd left, even though she hadn't actually said so. "Going on five years now," she answered. "I really miss him since he left. I keep hoping he'll come back some day. He promised me he would."
Just from the rough sketch Mission had given her, Aithne figured that Griff wasn't big on keeping promises. "Why did he leave?"
Mission's face hardened. "He fell in with a bad crowd. It's all Lena's fault!" she cried. "She's the one who took him away from me! Just batted those long lashes at him, and off he went!"
"Who's Lena?" asked Aithne, interested but a little alarmed by the introduction of this new character.
Mission crossed her arms. "I don't want to talk about Griff and Lena," she said, putting an inflection on the woman's name so it came out like a sneer. "Just the thought of that space tramp makes my blood boil! Subject's closed as far as I'm concerned! If I'm going to be any help to you," she explained in a somewhat calmer tone, "I can't be worrying about my brother running off with some intergalactic skank! So, is there anything else you need before we go?"
"I did want to talk with you about Carth," Aithne said. "Wait, just hear me out," she added as Mission started to protest. "Look. That back there outside the rancor lair was a sillier fight than him and me outside the Gamorrean hideout. You know it was. He wasn't trying to talk down to you; he was trying to answer your question. When we first met in the cantina, he was the one who believed you could handle yourself. I was the one wanting to charge in and save the teenager. We're both going to treat you like that on occasion. We're old, you're young."
"You're not that old," Mission grumbled. "And you didn't charge in and try and rescue me. He did actually give me the stupid lecture." She made a disgusted noise. "I'll think about it, okay?"
"All I'm asking," Aithne said. She stood. "Everyone done with dinner?" she called. "Great. Because I think we should get out of here with the prototype accelerator before the Vulkars get back from spreading death and terror through the city."
Everyone rose with her, and they headed toward the exit of the room. Before they'd crossed all the way to it, Aithne heard Mission's voice. "Uh, hey, Carth. Can I . . . can I talk to you for a second?"
Quick temper, quick cooldown, and quick apologies, Aithne thought with quiet satisfaction. Better than a sulky grudge-holder anyday. It was nice both Mission and Carth had that kind of personality. As long as they were all working together, there'd be some fights, but they wouldn't last long.
Carth kept walking toward the garage. They'd already disabled the elevator security. "Are you ready to have a civil chat?" he asked. "Or is this going to be another childish tantrum?"
Aithne bit her tongue to keep from laughing out loud. She saw Zaalbar shaking beside her and didn't dare to face him dead on for fear they both would lose it. Even her own father hadn't sounded so parental.
"Tantrum?!" cried Mission. "I'm trying to apologize, you nerf-herder!" She looked nervously at Aithne, took a deep breath and said in a much calmer tone, "Uh . . . I mean . . . I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get mad at you. It's just that I'm sick of everyone treating me like I'm a helpless kid."
Aithne saw Onasi melt. The man was really a massive marshmallow, she thought. In his defense, Vao's vulnerability shtick was powerful stuff. "Yeah, I know," Carth said. "And I'm sorry about what I said too. I'm just a little on edge lately. Not surprising, considering all we've been through. But I shouldn't take it out on you."
Aithne felt like cheering. /It is good to see you two reconciling your differences,/ Zaalbar commented.
Aithne translated for Carth. "As for me," she added, "I'd just as soon see another fight. You two make me feel better about my petty, crabby picking."
Both of them blushed and looked annoyed. Also like they weren't fooled for an instant and saw the comment for what it was—her own approval of their reconciliation, and a secondary apology for times she too had been unfair and immature. She still felt bad.
"Mission, you have to know that we don't think you're helpless," Carth continued. "Look at where we are. Look at what we're doing! We need you."
"You really mean it, don't you?" Mission said, in a tone very different from any she'd used before, even five minutes ago with Aithne. "Nobody's ever said nothing like that to me before, not even Big Z. He might think it, but he's not really one for words, you know? Thanks, Carth."
Wonder when they teach that course in officer training, Aithne mused. Winning allies and influencing individuals. You just got yourself a friend forever, Carth Onasi. Not that Mission Vao was particularly difficult. The kid was so lonely and had been so overlooked and unappreciated that the slightest expression of gratitude, attention, or kindness could win her over. It made her shiver a little, and she was suddenly really grateful for Zaalbar's presence in the girl's life. He had probably kept away the kinds of people who would have manipulated the love-starved girl for their own ends, even without actively trying to.
Carth shrugged, embarrassed by the girl's emotion. "Ah, it's no big deal. I know how it is. Sometimes you just need to hear a few words of encouragement." He paused. "Kids are like that."
Aithne chuckled as Mission fell for it hook, line, and sinker. "Kids are like that!? Listen here . . ." she began, then stopped. She laughed. "Oh, I get it. Okay, you got me. You're pretty funny, Carth, for an old guy. Come on, you geezer, let's get back to what we were doing."
The lower level of the Vulkar base was as depopulated as the upper, and Aithne was able to obtain a pass card after taking out the garage head that she suspected would take them to where the Vulkars were keeping the accelerator. She was even able to find a workbench, and she stopped there to upgrade their armor and weapons with some parts she'd found lying around.
Carth grumbled about the delay, but he got that Brejik would probably have some of his best men guarding the accelerator, and that after the day they'd had, any gear advantage they could get would be a good idea to offset the exhaustion. And Mission was excited that the workbench provided Aithne with the tools to cut down and fix her her stretched out borrowed combat suit so it wasn't so uncomfortable. The upgrades took another twenty minutes where Aithne was dead to anything that wasn't mesh, metal, and circuits, but when Aithne keyed them into the last room of the Vulkar base, she thought it had probably been worth it.
There were two Twi'leks waiting, armed to the teeth, and behind them, two Rodian guards.
The green male Twi'lek, who appeared to be in charge, spoke once he registered his surprise. /Looks like we have some visitors,/ he sneered, addressing the female Twi'lek on his right. /Lackeys conned by Gadon Thek into trying to steal Brejik's swoop engine accelerator, I bet!/
Mission glared at the Vulkar, lekku twitching angrily. "Brejik stole that engine from Gadon! It was never yours to begin with!"
The Twi'lek male glared back at her. /Well, I didn't go to all the trouble of acquiring this prototype just so you could steal it back for that old fool./
The female Twi'lek brightened. /Would you like me to dispose of these Bek spies, Kandon?/ she purred.
/No,/ said Kandon, /hold on a second. I see you aren't wearing the Hidden Bek colors,/ he said, addressing Aithne. Aithne cursed mentally. He could probably tell she was heading this operation from how the others had pressed in toward her when confronted with the oncoming fight. Now she'd get saddled with speaking for the group and making whatever decisions Kandon threw their way. /I'm guessing you aren't a part of that feeble old man's gang. You must be a freelance mercenary./
"I'm not one of the Beks, if that's what you mean."
Kandon smiled in what he seemed to think was a friendly way. /Instead of stealing the prototype for the Beks, why don't you come work for us? The Black Vulkars could use someone like you./
Aithne put her hands on her hips. This had the added benefit of putting them near her vibroblades, though she didn't draw them yet. "I must've killed more than a dozen of you by now, and almost that many of your droids. I've let your slaves run away, blown up several of your consoles and one of your bikes before the big annual swoop race, and you think I might be a good recruit? A lot of loyalty to your people there, Kandon."
/You say disloyal, but I know strength when I see it. Do you?/ Kandon reasoned. /Be smart! Gadon Thek is old news! He's a blind fool in more ways than one. Brejik is a visionary—soon he'll control the entire Lower City! Don't shackle yourself to a losing team./
"Strength to me doesn't equate to attacking strangers in the streets and harassing others in the cantina just 'cause you can," AIthne said. "Strength is being the people strangers and the harassed can go to. And vision isn't stealing the innovation of others; it's being the person making the innovations. Now. Hand over the Bek accelerator."
"You tell 'em, Aithne," Mission said, pleased.
Kandon scowled. /I can see there's not much chance of convincing you to come work for us after all. Most unfortunate./
The Twi'lek bodyguard leaned forward eagerly, an attack dog on a leash. /Now can I kill them, Kandon?/ she asked.
/Yes, darling,/ Kandon said in a hard voice. /Kill them. Kill them all./
Aithne unsheathed her blades in less than a second. Mission and Carth ducked behind the doorframe, blasters out, and Zaalbar joined Aithne at the front. He attacked the Twi'lek woman, clearly the bloodthirstiest opponent. Aithne went for a Rodian.
She'd adopted a sweeping, aggressive style against the Vulkars and their droids, using the cutting edge of her vibroblades to scythe down enemies quickly. When they had energy shields absorbing the force of her blows, small counterswings or swift thrusts after the main blow usually worked to sneak past or overload the shield she'd mostly overwhelmed on that first swing. She didn't necessarily bother with a clean kill, so long as she disarmed and incapacitated the enemy. She knew it might be cruel, leaving some of her enemies to die slowly or spend days, weeks, or months recovering, but making sure every enemy died quick and clean in open battle was time-consuming work, when what Aithne wanted was a quick, clean total victory.
But at the end of this fight, when the Rodians and the Twi'leks lay dead upon the floor, Aithne found Mission bent over, braced on her knees, so pale, almost all the blue had bleached from her skin. Carth, beside her, was looking lost and helpless. Tears were leaking out of Vao's eyes, but she didn't seem to notice.
"Mission," Aithne said quietly. "What's happened?"
Mission nodded at Kandon's corpse. "I got him," she said. "He was—he was the first one. The first one I know was me. I mean, rhakghouls and droids are one thing, but—Aithne, I just killed that guy! I murdered him!"
Aithne, Carth, and Zaalbar all looked at one another. Guilt and awkwardness hung heavy in the air. "I said war was different," Aithne said finally. "That was really your first kill?"
Mission nodded, unable to speak.
"Mission, that Twi'lek probably killed a lot of people, and for far less reason than you killed him. If you hadn't killed him, he would've killed you, and he wouldn't have thought twice," Carth said.
"I know," Mission said. "But—what, like that makes it okay? Like just because he was a murderer, I can kill him? Doesn't that make me like him? Or that other lady, who was actually looking forward to it, who wanted to shoot us the second we walked in here?" She looked down in distaste at the female Twi'lek.
"No," Carth told her. "Because you're thinking about it. Because you're here. Because you know what it is to take a life. We can't always avoid killing people. But so long as we remember to talk first, so long as we remember to stay responsible, we aren't murderers. Understand?"
"I think so," Mission said, straightening. "Thanks."
"And Mission," Carth added, catching the Twi'lek's eye.
"Yeah?"
"It was a good shot."
Mission almost smiled at that. Aithne walked over to her. In lieu of Carth's fancy words, she just gave the kid another hug. Then she nodded at the prototype accelerator across the room, parked under a fragmentation mine. "Will you do the honors?" she asked.
Mission wiped her eyes and nose on her sleeve. She nodded. She walked forward with confidence, and sadly, Aithne noted a new hardness to her face, to her aura. She's really going to grow up on my watch, realized Aithne. And all I've got for her is this. Another wave of despair and helplessness crashed over her, just like it had right after Zaalbar had sworn his lifedebt and Mission had declared she was coming too.
"Hey," Carth said softly, coming up to stand beside her. He was watching her face. "You'll do okay," he told her. "So long as you keep her, let her help, you'll be doing more than anyone but Zaalbar ever has."
"It's not enough," Aithne murmured.
"Well, no, but you'll learn the rest of it, same as she'll learn to deal with all of this. You'll get it," he said again.
That was when Aithne was sure he had been a father. She wondered if his kid or kids were still alive, or if he'd lost them when the Sith had burned his homeworld. He'd be so much better at this than me, she thought, not for the first time that day. But Zaalbar'd sworn his oath to the girl who could understand Shyriiwook, so she was the one who was suddenly a mother, whether or not Mission wanted her to see things that way.
Mission came back with the prototype accelerator. She stowed it in her pack and looked at Aithne, waiting for direction.
"Let's head back to the apartment and get some sleep," Carth suggested. "We'll hand that over to the Beks tomorrow morning."
But looking at Mission, and thinking about the world she'd be leaving behind, Aithne suddenly didn't want to do that. "No," she said. "Tonight, let's sleep in the Undercity. I have a promise to keep to Rukil the storyteller, and another to Zelka Forn. I don't want to head back to Gadon until we've found what happened to Malya and got our hands on some rhakghoul serum."
Suddenly, it was very important no one be left without knowing what had happened to a young person they cared for. Suddenly, it was very important they leave Taris better than they had found it—in good hands, so to speak.
She looked back at Carth, and he nodded, weary, but understanding. Resigned. The four of them left the Vulkar base through the sewers and traversed the vast wilderness of the Undercity in silence. Surprisingly, there were no attacks. Aithne figured even rhakghouls knew enough to vacate an area where so many of them had died. They entered the village and found Gendar on the far side of the village.
"Request refuge for the night, Gendar," asked Aithne, bowing.
"Of course, Up-worlder," murmured Gendar, bowing as well. He rummaged about in the refuse and drew out a spare tent and four bedrolls. "Here. It is not much, but it is all we can offer you."
"It is sufficient," said Aithne. "We thank you for your hospitality."
Together, Carth and Zaalbar pitched the tent. Mission and Aithne made up the bedrolls. Looking at one another in silence, the travelers collapsed without a word. In seconds, they were asleep.