Back in the Saddle

[Tahlo]

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Flash, it glazed over and burned something bright beneath the eyelids, and the soft droning series of creaks, expulsions of steam, and mechanical reverberation disappeared into the abyss for all this Bounty Hunter could seem to care. He remained slumped against the decayed spire comprised of steel, pieces of fallen into disarray around the thing and the inklings of flame littered debris brought some light. He noticed one thing, among them all, and that it was the equipment met some form of malfunction; sensors scattered, trackers consumed by static, and a ringing continued to sound off beneath the T-Visor in such a painful manner.

Next, though, Tahlo fell limp.

And once the sun crested over the horizon, the scavengers came to feast - little remained intact after the battles beneath the stars concluded, for the time being, and set to being again once the light faded once more. Though, it never stopped them: corpses, organic and metallic, became picked clean of their armour, armaments, and parts. Even those that clutched onto their lives met an end once one came around possessing a sharp enough stick to plunge into them.

"Be quick about it." Nevar spat in a soft and strange tone of voice, befitting of a Rodian. He clutched onto several blasters beneath one arm whilst a spare set of fingers wrapped themselves around all that could be found, and his teal coloured companion returned, "You be quick abou-" And so all breath left their worthless lungs, crashing into the stone beneath them as the collection of acquired produce, so-to-speak, erupted into a loud clatter. Nevar froze, fearfully so.

"You idiot!" He chirped, crouched beneath the shadow of the steel spire.

Tahlo, awoken by the sound and tug at his leg, opened eyes to see nothing more than a Rodian caught dead-centre. He groaned, and attempted to rise sluggishly. "Nevar, Nevar!" Quiros exclaimed, thrusting a suction-cupped finger in the direction of the Mandalorian that lay within thwacking distance of Nevar. Nevar shot up, screamed like a child, and reached for an object that soon clanged against the wounded figure.

Tahlo returned to their slumber, of course. Nevar and Quiros fled, screaming all the while as their gains were abandoned. And time continued to pass; the square filled with more... respectable people. It bustled, to be true, as a series of merchants, smugglers, collectors, and mercenaries took to the streets - even those that deemed this place fit enough to live.

How'd he get into this mess?

-----

[member="Cale Gunderson"]

 

[Cale Gunderson]

It was the same as it always was, another job complete, another shipment of spice smuggled, another bit of his soul eaten away. He took a sip of the whiskey he'd ordered as his mind wandered elsewhere. Cale had been something once, something good, but that had been a lie. Years later he still couldn't reconcile it, having been programmed like some sort of droid, with secret commands to wipe out his free will in an instant. Even now he wondered if he was truly himself, or if what he'd been in his days behind an iron mask had been his true self. He took another sip.

He saw her, in the garden on Kashyyyk. She'd wrapped her arms around him, her memory of his sins washed away. She'd been too good to be true, too good for him, too good for anyone. He'd have only dragged her down with him if he'd stayed. Yet every day he woke up on the same hard cot in the ramshackle freighter he'd acquired, he wished he had. He wished he was still there, with Tallia, with his brother too, yet he wasn't.

Cale downed the rest of the whiskey without a word, then rose from his place at the bar. He gave the keep a nod, then turned on his heel and made for the door. The poncho he wore hung down brushed against the lifeless stump on one side of his shoulder, and Cale hoped in vain as he had for almost a year that he might feel something, some sensation, but none came. His lone hand balled into a fist, but nothing came of the frustration.

Digging into his pocket he drew out a stimstick and pressed it between his lips, igniting it as he stepped into the bustling street. A few drags and puffs of smoke later, he came upon the Mandalorian. For a moment he stood there, looking down on the warrior with a degree of indifference. His mind flashed to conquest, to battles fought against his will, the glow of a crimson saber cast over blood stained beskar. He'd killed them, or at least their kind, fought them as himself too. He heard the screams still, though he could never be sure if they hadn't been battle cries.

He should've kept walking, everyone else was, and there was nothing that should've motivated him to do otherwise, yet there he stood. A breeze ruffled the burlap poncho, swaying his dark hair in the wind. For a moment he thought to go for the blaster at his side, violent instincts still in the back of his mind, but his hand remained at his side.

"You hurt friend?"

[member="Tahlo"]

 

[Tahlo]

Violence. It lingered in the best of men, and even the worst among them. Tahlo believed it to be a poison, but an enticing one; it was all-the-more desirable after a taste, always returning for more for one reason or another. He could've faulted several systems for it, but in the end there was no-one to blame bar the man that conducted as much themselves. It got him here, after all, and there was none other to blame for it.

He remained content to stir in the pain that continued to spread across the nerves, feeling the sharp pang more and more after a movement or attempt at one. Cale, from where he was stood, was able to spot the piece of metal that protruded from their shoulder on the opposite side; grating against the steel, kept at a poor angle.

"Something like that." Tahlo groaned in response, never bothering to make so much as a move.

-----

[member="Cale Gunderson"]

 

[Cale Gunderson]

"Looks bad." He said with an indifference that would've made his master grimace. Cale hadn't bothered following the politics of the Mandalorians, but he knew it had been messy for as long as he could remember. Constant internal strife made refugees of thousands, soldier and civilian alike. Given there weren't any other beskar-clad warriors in the vicinity, he imagined that Tahlo was one such refugee, or perhaps was just a loner like so many members of his people throughout time.

"That's going to get infected, if you don't get it out and cleaned." He gave a nod to the piece of twisted steel jutting out from the Mandalorian, nearly kicking himself as he did. Did he forget he was a fugitive from both of the major powers that be? Or was he just eager to play at being a hero? Either reality made him a fool. But like the fool he was, he stood there still. "Lucky for you I know a guy."

Might as well make a few credits.

[member="Tahlo"]

 

[Tahlo]

"I've got the credits." Tahlo returned, raising the T-Visor to meet Gunderson. "Patch me up; I can be appreciative." He sounded worse for wear, and so it begged the question that answered the situation Tahlo came to be in. He failed to remember, exactly, nothing more than sparse moments - bright flashes, searing pains, screams, cries, and fear-riddled faces. It was enough, and nothing not seen a thousand times before. It was a strange thing to be so accustomed to, though one might think it another average adventure for those that so often tore themselves to pieces.

The Mandalorian tucked a wing in, keeping it close to his armoured chest whilst another one extended otuwards, daring to be taken. He'd need help to get up, and it seemed now that the two of them only had one working arm. Though, Tahlo could heal in time. Gunderson had no such luck.

-----

[member="Cale Gunderson"]

 

[Cale Gunderson]

So he'd pay, good, Cale could rest easy knowing he wasn't going to be doing an act of kindness out of the good of his heart. How fulfilling for a once-Jedi. He was sure that everyone would be so proud. Extending the arm he had he helped pull the armored warrior onto his feat. In spite of his worn out look, Cale was deceptively strong, and hauling a fully armored Mandalorian to his feet was a far less arduous task than it ought be. As far as clues went, that was the first and likely last Tahlo would get that everything with the worn out smuggler wasn't as it seemed. The force gave him strength, even as he tried his best to stay away from it.

"Ship's this way," He cocked his head back in the direction of the meager spaceport that the YT-whatever he'd been flying for some time was waiting. "Should hurry, some vultures have less qualms with injured prey than others, if the meal is worth it."

Speaking in metaphors was some sort of curse that came from growing up in a temple, he was convinced, as he'd yet to stop in his twenty some years of living. Still, the truth was in his words. In backwater's like these, there was no telling who would do what if they thought the score was big enough. Mandalorian armor, beskar or no, usually qualified.

[member="Tahlo"]

 

[Tahlo]

"They tried once." He commented, a soft-spoken mutter that amounted to nothing short of a verbalised note. He can believe it to strength that kept him alive and scared them from bothering to try again, or there was a chance the lot of them circled like vultures - watching, waiting, grinding their teeth against one another now that the wounded figure was aided by another.

Tahlo walked with a sense of uniformed ease, but the upper-left side was taken out of comission for the time-being. It left a lot to be desired, and one shooting arm available. If they returned in a swarm, despite the unlikeliness of it, it was impossible to say if the Bounty Hunter was to continue breathing. It seemed everything was peaceful throughout the day; leaving the night to kill one another.

-----

[member="Cale Gunderson"]

 

[Cale Gunderson]

The walk was something of a short one, but what it lacked in length it made up for in silence. Mandalorians never spoke much about the things they were up to, so Cale didn't ask. Instead he took drags from the lit stimstick hanging between his lips, and puffed the smoke up into the air as the made their way through the assortment of species in the bustling town. When they came on the ship, Cale was reminded once again why he held the thing in such disdain. It wasn't the dings, or the faded paint, it was the two long gouges burnt into its side. The blast pattern was fairly distinctive, the glancing hits had come from a TIE.

It marked him for death in Imperial territory, and he'd never had the credits to persuade anyone in this corner of the galaxy to take a look at it, much less actually do the repairs. It was fine, she wasn't the A-Wing of his youth or the X-Wing he'd flown for the Alliance, but she did her job. Cale never bothered to name the ship, she was just his ship, simple as that. Digging his hand into his pocket he thumbed a small device, and the ramp hissed as it lowered to welcome them aboard.

"After you." He nodded to the Mandalorian, turning back to the crowd, sweeping over it as he looked for any kind of trouble. None was apparent, but he took note of a few different individuals who'd been standing still far too long, most were just lost in thought he imagined, but one met Cale's gaze. For an instant neither looked away, but then the Weequay turned into an alley and out of view. It left him uneasy, but as he walked up the ramp and hit the switch to close it, he said nothing. Not yet.

[member="Tahlo"]

 

[Tahlo]

It wasn't polite to make assumptions. Tahlo refrained from doing as such, or so the figure tried. He eyed the T-Series Freighter for quite some time, inspecting the damages expressed over the shell and recognising the separation, pattern, and so on affiliated- TIE Fighter, Tahlo identified it. It could have meant a lot of things, but in a time of strife and ever-present conflict, Tahlo presumed the worse more often than not. It saved a lot pain, inner and outer. The T-Visor rest over it before panning across, settling on Gunderson and then offering the simplest of gestures: a nod.

"Thanks." He breathed.

And then proceeded to move inside, acsending the ramp.

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[member="Cale Gunderson"]

 

[Cale Gunderson]

"Save your thanks for the folks that don't make you pay, it'll mean more." He waved for the Mandalorian to follow after him through the cramped halls to small chamber. It looked like it might've been a cabin meant for a first mate or esteemed guest at some point, but barring the simple cot that remained, it hardly resembled a living quarters anymore. Instead, various medical instruments, tubes of bacta salve, medical stims, and a variety of other ointments and injections sat in containers affixed to the walls. It wasn't glamorous, but it worked.

"Before we get started, there any chance some shadowy underground type is gonna come knocking at my door for helping you? I'm in no need of excitement." The long, black gouges in the side of the ship said otherwise, but to be fair he hadn't been all that keen on excitement when he'd gotten those either. Still, the last thing he needed was a squad of enforcers strung out on force knows what and armed to the teeth coming to visit him all upset like. Once upon a time things might've been different, but now all that hung at his side was a blaster, and one less hand, not to mention no lightsaber.

Cale wouldn't have charged the man back then either. Simpler times, he supposed.

[member="Tahlo"]

 

[Tahlo]

"Possibly." Tahlo confessed, beginning to take a seat. "I did all I was asked, if others aren't taking kindly to it then I could be followed." He took a pan over the shoulder, attempting to inspect the wound and metal that continued to protrude from his flesh; it was a ghastly thing, but as were all wounds of such a nature. It wasn't particularly damaging in the long-term, though if need be it could become as much. It seemed their resources could cover such things, but damages like this were costly and continued to pile after one thrust themselves into lethal scenarios all too often.

"I'll be moving on once you've been paid. Be no issue, then."

-----

[member="Cale Gunderson"]

 

[Cale Gunderson]

"Figures." Cale grumbled, grabbing a tube of bacta and a stim that seemed to glow green. Quick acting stuff, stung like hell, but he imagined the armor clad bounty hunter would be able to take it. Besides, he'd be too busy reeling from what came next. Cale's hand was steady and swift, wrapping around the piece of metal and pulling it out in a single motion. He flicked the metal onto one of the shelves to clean later, snatched up the stim and injected it. Not bothering to pause for even a moment, he flicked aside the empty canister, and uncapped the bacta with a flick of his thumb, drawing on the stimstick as he poured its content over the wound in silence.

"Oh, might sting." He murmurered with a smirk, turning away to grab a roll of bandages. Something moved in the force, but what it was he could not know. His connection was far to weak thanks to his own efforts to tell if it was a warning, or something less worrisome, so all he could do was hope for the best. And that the Mandalorian didn't start a fistfight with him about now.

He was a little short on resources when it came to brawling these days.

[member="Tahlo"]

 

[Tahlo]

"Gah!" Tahlo spat and lurched forwards through teeth clenched together, returning to the position as best as one could given the situation. He tensed into a certain stiffness, locked in place; stifling the speech that was to come in exchange for a series of grunts, groans, and otherwise sounds that resembled someone in an amount of pain beneath all that armour. It never got easier, no. It never could, right? It was to always sting, to be an ever-present thing that could never become quite as used to as one was to prefer. Tahlo knew pain and knew it well, but that familiarity never came dull the feeling of it as it coursed through his armoured frame, plucking at nerves, exposing flesh, burying into it, or burning it away.

"I know," the Bounty Hunter said in return, later than it ought to be for all had been said and done.

He let the silence linger between the two of them, remaining stoic and still as the medicine - of sorts - began to function as best it could. He raised the T-Visor, observing Gunderson before speaking once more; "I need to cross into the next sector. I've got the credits to pay for transport."

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[member="Cale Gunderson"]

 

[Cale Gunderson]

Cale gave a nod to the Mandalorian, but not much else initially. It almost might’ve seemed as if he hadn’t heard the bounty hunter was he bandaged the wound with surprising efficiency and precision for a man with one arm. The old lunk they were on wasn't his first ship since he’d fled Kashyyyk, and the loss of the preceding ones had each been violent. He’d had to learn fast to take care of his injuries, even down an appendage.

“Yeah, thinkin I need to jump a system anyway.” He remarked as he finished, backing away from the Mandalorian, tired green eyes looking to off into the distance. To an observer it no doubt looked as if he was staring into nothing, and perhaps he was, but the force prodded him again, more sharply this time.

It had to be a warning, it just had too.

“You got any business you need to attend to or are you ready to go now?”


[member="Tahlo"]

 

[Tahlo]

"No," He responded, a short and brief manner of speaking leaving it there as the singular sound hung in the air between them. He took the moment to think, to consider, and come to question the systems that surrounded them. Tahlo never needed to be somewhere specific, or so the Bounty Hunter came to believe. "I've finished all business here, and I think they're done with me." He concluded, teasing the thought of a betrayal. It wouldn't be the first time, to be true.

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[member="Cale Gunderson"]

 

[Cale Gunderson]

"Good. We're leaving." Something banged on the hatch, spouting angry words in some tongue he didn't recognize. When he was young, a fresh Jedi Knight who'd taken the path of the sentinel, he'd spoken most languages one could, but that all felt so far away now. He could make out bits and pieces from a good many dialects but this one left him drawing a blank. Cale moved for the cockpit, no so much as looking back to the hatch as he strode through the cramped corridors.

Dipping into the cockpit, he flicked several switches and brought the ships engine to life, without thinking he called out in the force, and a pair of smaller switches flicked up. A small thing, barely noticeable, but to a keen eye it might have been something. The yelling grew angrier as the engines roared to life, beginning to drown out the voice of whoever was seeking an audience. Maybe they were here for the Mando, maybe things would've been a whole lot easier for him if he just opened up the hatch and let them take him. Yet he didn't, instead he took the controls and lifted the vessel from the ground.

Small arms fire rapped against the side of the ship as he lifted away, but none of it had enough power to to so much as perhaps leave a black pockmark on the side of the hull for the few seconds it took his deflector shields to come to life. The advantages of conducting business on such a backwater were many, but perhaps the most appealing to Cale was the fact he could come and goes as he pleased, no clearance codes, no permission to land or take off, one simply could go as they pleased, and so Cale went.

The ship soared upwards, leaving the small world behind them. "Gonna assume they were here for you, don't think I've got any debts in this system."

[member="Tahlo"]

 

[Tahlo]

Tahlo rose to their armoured height, beginning to make some move about the vessel after the sudden pang and voice reached out to the Bounty Hunter. He eyed the hatch, but nothing else came of it. It wasn't a voice that was recognised, but it never was. It was always some faceless mook that took the credits offered, never bothering to look far into it. It only continued once the lot of them took off, ascending into the skies, set to disappear. It seemed Tahlo caused quite the stir, though nothing more than a T-Visor glance met Gunderson as the switches seemed to move on their own. He was perceptive enough, surely, but outright dismissed the things seen.

"Something like that," Tahlo said, "There's always someone after another head."

-----

[member="Cale Gunderson"]

 

[Cale Gunderson]

"Too right." He could hear the snap-hiss of a crimson blade in the back of his mind, the sinister laughter. There was always someone after another head, someone after his. The existence of Inquisitors in the ranks of the Sith Empire admittedly made no sense to him, they had plenty of force weilders, and plenty of former Jedi among the ranks of their Darths, yet they existed nonetheless. Jedi Hunters, just like he'd been. Now the predator had become prey.

"So, where do you need to go, anywhere in particular? As long as it isn't Imperial space I can get you anywhere." The gouges on his hull suggested even the Sith Empire's territory was a viable destination in terms of his abilities, he simply was't quite willing.

[member="Tahlo"]

 

[Tahlo]

"Exocron." Tahlo elected to speak after breaking the silence that stirred between the two of them in the moment of consideration. He could go a lot of places, and Exocron seemed to the planet that was picked. It was known to be a garden-planet in the heart of the Outer Rim Coalition, somewhere surrounding the Kathol Outback. It held little significance, or so one might think. The Mandalorian, after all, could have some use for it. Nevertheless, it remained in the Outer Rim. "I have my..." Tahlo paused, "Things there." He finalised, allowing some level of nothingness to swell overhead.

"You have trouble with the Empire?" He questioned, but that much was obvious. It seemed near everyone was in some degree of trouble with the Sith these days.

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[member="Cale Gunderson"]

 

[Cale Gunderson]

"Exocron it is." He answered, bringing up the system in his navcomputer and going ahead with a few of the preliminary calculations for the jump. He wasn't sure what else the Mandalorian might have in terms of possessions, they weren't a materialistic people and from what Cale could tell Tahlo was carrying all the typical Mandalorian might with him. It was probably more guns, they always had more guns. Guns that shot slugs, spears, blaster bolts, scattershot, nets, flechette and everything in between. He knew what their weapons did, he'd seen it all so close.

"Everyone has trouble with the Empire. The Empire just happens to have mutual trouble with me." Cale answered bitterly, wondering when and if he'd have to face down the dogs of the Sith again.

[member="Tahlo"]