Private Cargo, Consequences, and Other Bad Deliveries

[Varro]

A LIFE OF HIS OWN

The work was not glamorous. That was one of the things Varro appreciated most about it. No one cared who he had once belonged to. No one cared what chains he had worn or what name had been attached to ownership records. Cargo did not care about a person's past. Shipping manifests did not ask uncomfortable questions. Freight schedules certainly did not concern themselves with old scars. A shipment either arrived where it was supposed to arrive or it didn't.

The simplicity appealed to him. Ra'a'mah's transport company operated across a broad stretch of space, carrying everything from commercial freight to humanitarian aid. Some weeks it was replacement machinery for mining colonies. Others it was food shipments for settlements struggling through poor harvests. Occasionally it was passengers needing transportation into regions larger companies deemed unprofitable.

It wasn't exciting. It was important. Varro found that he liked important. This assignment was a relief run. Veradune had assembled several shipments destined for Dellalt, a frontier world sitting in an increasingly uncertain region of the Outer Rim. Medical supplies occupied nearly a third of the cargo hold. Portable water purification systems filled another section. Agricultural equipment, prefab shelters, communications arrays, and emergency power generators filled the rest.

Nothing that would make anyone rich. Everything that could save lives. Dellalt itself wasn't particularly dangerous. The concern came from where it sat. The Mandalorian Empire's influence stretched across portions of nearby space. Ancient Sith worlds lingered further beyond. Trade routes shifted constantly. Border disputes flared without warning. Raiders and opportunists followed instability the way scavengers followed a battlefield.

Relief shipments were valuable. Valuable shipments attracted attention. Which explained why Ra had arranged additional security. Varro still wasn't entirely sure why she seemed so confident in this particular contractor. The file had been remarkably brief.

Name: Shade
Species: Chiss.
Occupation: Independent Security Specialist.

That was it. No lengthy service history. No impressive military résumé. No explanation beyond a recommendation from someone Ra trusted. The lack of information bothered him slightly. Not enough to object. Just enough to remain curious.

The freighter emerged from hyperspace precisely on schedule. Blue light collapsed around the vessel as the stars reappeared. Ahead, Centares hung against the darkness of space, surrounded by the glittering web of orbital traffic moving between stations and planetary docking facilities.

Varro stood near the bridge viewport, datapad resting beneath one arm. The sight still impressed him. He doubted that would ever truly change. For much of his life, starships had represented uncertainty. A ship arriving often meant being sold. A ship departing usually meant leaving behind whatever familiarity he had managed to build.

Now ships represented something entirely different. Employment. Responsibility. A future.

The bridge crew exchanged approach vectors with local traffic control while hundreds of vessels navigated the crowded spacelanes around the planet.

"Receiving docking assignment."

"Vector confirmed."

"Traffic corridor locked."

The captain guided the freighter smoothly into the stream of incoming vessels. Everything proceeded routinely. Just the way cargo crews preferred it. As the planet grew larger beyond the viewport, Varro glanced down at his reflection in the transparisteel.

He barely resembled the man he had been a year ago. The vest was the first thing most people noticed. Black and durable, sleeveless and worn from honest labor, it hung open across his broad chest. Utility pockets lined the front, filled with styluses, inventory scanners, access keys, and other tools he'd accumulated since joining the company. The company identification patch sat over one breast, slightly faded from constant use.

Beneath it was nothing. At first the absence of a shirt had simply been practical. Freight work was hot, dirty labor. Eventually it had become preference. The green skin covering his muscular frame reflected his recent physical work. Long hours loading cargo, maintaining equipment, and moving supplies had built strength that no longer existed solely because someone else demanded it of him.

Brown cargo pants completed the outfit. Practical. Durable. Reinforced at the knees. The pockets carried tools, datapads, and enough odds and ends to solve most problems encountered aboard a freighter. Heavy work boots completed the ensemble. Nothing fancy. Nothing expensive. Everything earned.

The clothing fit him the same way the job did. Functional. Honest. His own. The thought brought a small smile to his face.

Atmospheric entry began shortly afterward. Cloud layers drifted beneath the ship as Centares' primary starport came into view. The facility sprawled across kilometers of durasteel platforms, landing towers, cargo depots, maintenance yards, and transit hubs. Hundreds of vessels occupied docking berths while thousands of beings moved between terminals.

The organized chaos felt strangely comforting. People working. Goods moving. The galaxy functioning.

Landing struts deployed with a mechanical thud. Repulsors engaged. Moments later the freighter settled onto its assigned pad with barely a tremor. Another successful leg completed. For now.

The instant the engines powered down, Varro got to work. First stop was the cargo hold. Crew members were already conducting routine inspections.

"Everything stable?" he asked.

One loader nodded. "No movement. No seal breaches."

"Good." Varro verified personally. Not because he distrusted the crew. Because responsibility felt better when confirmed firsthand. He moved methodically through the hold. Cargo restraints remained secure. Environmental systems remained green. Medical containers remained properly temperature controlled. Agricultural equipment remained exactly where it belonged. Every crate. Every seal. Every row. Perfect.

The inspection continued through engineering and logistics stations afterward. Fuel levels. Departure schedules. Maintenance reports. Crew readiness. Each received a quick review. The freighter could have departed immediately if necessary.

Satisfied, Varro finally reached the last item on his checklist. The Chiss. Shade. Their newest passenger. Possibly crew member. Possibly bodyguard. Possibly both.

The fact that he didn't know was becoming increasingly annoying. He checked the time on his datapad. If her transport had arrived according to schedule, she should already be somewhere inside the terminal complex. "Ship's yours while I'm gone," he told the nearby crew. "Try not to trash it before I get back."

A few chuckles followed him. That still felt strange. People laughing with him. The loading ramp descended with a hydraulic hiss. Warm air flooded the corridor. Beyond lay the immense starport of Centares.

Crowds moved in every direction. Dockworkers hauled freight. Security patrols monitored the terminals. Merchants argued over contracts. Travelers hurried toward departing vessels. Somewhere among them was a Chiss security specialist named Shade. A woman trusted enough by Vulpesen for Ra'a'mah to place aboard the shipment.

A woman Varro knew absolutely nothing about. Stepping off the freighter, datapad tucked beneath his arm, he disappeared into the crowd in search of his mysterious new companion. The cargo run was still routine. At least for the moment.

VARRO
• Location: Starport, Muracie, Centares
• Objective: Obtain Security Agent for Supply Run
• Outfit: Cargo Work Attire
• Company: Crew of the ship.

 

[Shade]

Shade had arrived nearly two hours before the freighter.

Not because she expected trouble, nor because she distrusted the schedule, but because the work began long before the people she was hired to protect ever stepped off a boarding ramp. By the time Varro's vessel exited hyperspace, she had already walked the primary cargo concourse twice, identified the nearest medical facilities, mapped several evacuation routes through the terminal district, and taken note of the locations where traffic naturally bottlenecked. Choke points mattered. So did sightlines. So did the habits of local security personnel, who would either become useful allies or inconvenient obstacles depending on how events unfolded.

Centares was not considered a dangerous port. That designation often made places more vulnerable than they realized. Large populations created anonymity. Anonymity created opportunity. Opportunity attracted predators. From an elevated transit walkway overlooking several docking platforms, Shade watched freight traffic move below like blood through arteries. Cargo loaders, customs inspectors, mechanics, couriers, merchants, and travelers all moved according to patterns that became visible only when viewed from a sufficient distance. She studied those patterns the same way a hunter studied tracks.

The freighter's arrival drew her attention only briefly. She observed the assigned berth, noted nearby vessels, and identified anything that might complicate a rapid departure should circumstances demand one. After that, her focus widened again. Protection was rarely about reacting to danger. More often, it was about understanding the environment well enough that danger revealed itself before it acted.

Only once the vessel had landed and routine operations were underway did she descend into the terminal proper. The crowd absorbed her immediately. A dark jacket concealed most of her frame, while practical travel clothing beneath offered nothing memorable to hold the eye. One shoulder carried a small travel bag. A cup of caf rested comfortably in one hand. She moved with the easy confidence of someone who belonged exactly where they were. Hundreds of people passed her without a second glance. That suited her perfectly.

By the time Varro stepped off the freighter and disappeared into the flow of traffic, Shade had already identified him. The file Ra'a'mah had provided had been brief, but reality was often more informative than paperwork. He was larger than she expected. Stronger as well. Not the strength of a soldier or duelist, but of someone accustomed to honest labor. The cargo vest, the worn tools, and the methodical manner in which he had inspected the ship all painted a clearer picture than any personnel record. Responsibility sat naturally on him. So did purpose. Both were qualities she respected.

She allowed several minutes to pass before approaching. There was no reason to interrupt his work immediately. Instead, she watched him navigate the terminal while she completed a few final observations of her own. A pair of security officers changed shifts near one entrance. A maintenance crew sealed access to a service corridor. Freight traffic increased around a neighboring docking berth. Everything continued moving as it should. Satisfied, she finally closed the distance.

When she spoke, her voice emerged calmly from beside him rather than directly ahead, carrying the quiet confidence of someone entirely comfortable with her surroundings.

"Varro, I assume."

Shade stood nearby with her caf still in hand, crimson eyes meeting his as though their meeting had been arranged down to the second. There was no dramatic introduction, no attempt to appear mysterious.

"Shade."

Her gaze drifted briefly toward the docking platforms visible through the transparisteel before returning to him.

"Your cargo appears secure. I thought it prudent to familiarize myself with the area before introducing myself."

A faint pause followed.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet the man responsible for ensuring this shipment reaches Dellalt."

Varro

 

[Varro]

A LIFE OF HIS OWN

Varro blinked when the voice appeared beside him. Not because she had startled him exactly. Well... perhaps a little.

He turned toward the Chiss woman, green eyes settling on her crimson ones. She looked exactly like someone employed to notice things he never would. Calm. Controlled. Entirely comfortable in a crowd that seemed intent on swallowing everyone around it.

The Twi'lek glanced briefly around the terminal before returning his attention to her. "Shade." His introduction mirrored hers in its simplicity with an added nod of his head. "Varro." There didn't seem much point complicating things.

A faint smile tugged at one corner of his mouth as she mentioned familiarizing herself with the area. "Pleasure to meet you too." His gaze drifted across the terminal once more. Cargo haulers moved crates between loading platforms. Travelers hurried toward departing transports. Security officers stood watch near customs checkpoints. To Varro, it all looked normal. Busy. Loud. A little crowded. But normal.

The problem was that he suspected normal wasn't what someone like Shade saw. "I'll admit, I have no idea what you're looking at when you study a place like this." He gestured vaguely toward the sprawling terminal around them. "I see dockworkers, merchants, and people trying not to miss their flights."

The statement earned a quiet chuckle from him. "You probably see something entirely different."

Varro shifted the datapad beneath one arm. The more he considered it, the more curious he became. Ra hadn't hired her because she knew how to count cargo containers. That meant she understood dangers he likely overlooked every day. His expression became thoughtful.

"Did you notice anything troubling?" A pause followed as another group of travelers passed between them and the docking platforms. "Or are we clear to head back to the ship?"

The question wasn't born of impatience. Quite the opposite. He genuinely wanted to know. For most of his life, danger had been obvious. Someone bigger. Someone stronger. Someone who owned enough credits to make your problems become theirs.

This sort of work operated differently. Pirates. Raiders. Smugglers. Political conflicts. The sorts of threats that happened to ships and cargo routes. Things he was still learning.

As they began walking, Varro glanced toward her again. "What sort of dangers do you actually expect on a run like this?" His tone carried honest curiosity rather than concern. "Dellalt isn't exactly sitting in the middle of nowhere, but it isn't the Core Worlds either." A small shrug followed. "Most of my experience with trouble has involved a single angry person standing in front of me."

His smile returned. "I get the feeling your definition of trouble is considerably larger than mine."

VARRO
• Location: Starport, Muracie, Centares
• Objective: Obtain Security Agent for Supply Run
• Outfit: Cargo Work Attire
• Company: Shade | Crew of the ship.

 

[Shade]

Shade walked alongside him at an unhurried pace, her gaze occasionally drifting across the terminal as people flowed around them in every direction. The movement never seemed to distract her from the conversation. If anything, it appeared to be part of it. Her attention shifted naturally between Varro, the crowd, the security stations, and the loading platforms beyond the transparisteel. The habit was so ingrained that she likely was not consciously doing it anymore.

A faint smile touched her lips when he admitted he had no idea what she saw.

"You are not wrong."

Her eyes followed a group of freight handlers maneuvering a repulsor cart through a narrow gap between two departing crowds.

"Most people see the individuals. I look for the patterns they create."

She lifted her cup of caf and took a small sip before continuing.

"The dockworkers are doing their jobs. The merchants are pursuing profit. The travelers are trying to reach their destinations. None of those things concerns me. What concerns me are the people who are not behaving as they should be."

Her gaze shifted toward a security checkpoint before returning to him.

"Someone watching a cargo shipment they have no reason to watch. Someone spending too much time near a restricted access corridor. Someone who appears more interested in observing than traveling. Most dangers reveal themselves eventually. The trick is noticing them before they decide to act."

When he asked if she had found anything troubling, Shade considered the question honestly before giving a small shake of her head.

"No. Nothing unusual, at least."

Her shoulders shifted in a slight shrug.

"A crowded starport always contains thieves, smugglers, opportunists, and people attempting to avoid customs declarations. That is simply the nature of a crowded starport. If I reacted to every minor crime I noticed, I would never accomplish anything else."

The question about danger seemed to interest her more. She was quiet for several moments as they continued toward the docking district, giving the answer the consideration it deserved before speaking again.

"Expecting something and preparing for something are different things."

Her crimson eyes met his briefly.

"I do not expect pirates to attack us. I do not expect raiders to ambush us. I do not expect a political dispute to strand us halfway through the route. But I prepare as though those things are possible."

The response came without paranoia or pessimism. It was simply practical.

"I have found that planning for the worst and hoping for the best tends to produce the most reliable results. What actually happens is usually somewhere in the middle."

For a moment, she seemed to consider his final statement about angry individuals being the source of most of his troubles. The corner of her mouth softened slightly, and there was enough dry humor in her expression to suggest she found the comparison amusing.

"Honestly, most of mine begin the same way."

Her gaze drifted toward the freighter waiting in its berth.

"The scale changes. The motivations change. Occasionally, the weapons become larger. But more often than not, trouble begins with a single person making a poor decision. The rest is simply consequences."

Varro

 

[Varro]

A LIFE OF HIS OWN

Varro listened carefully as they walked. Not politely. Not because it seemed expected. Actually listened. The distinction became increasingly apparent the longer Shade spoke. His eyes followed some of the same movements hers did. The freight handlers. The security checkpoint. The travelers moving through the terminal. Yet despite looking at the same things, he realized they were seeing entirely different worlds.

To him, the freight handlers were workers. The checkpoint was security. The travelers were travelers. Simple. Straightforward. Useful information if someone needed help loading cargo or finding a docking berth.

Shade seemed to see relationships. Patterns. Intent. The spaces between things. It was fascinating. And a little intimidating. His gaze settled on a group of beings gathered around a departure board. He tried viewing them the way she described.

Who belonged there?
Who didn't?
Who was watching something they shouldn't be?

The exercise lasted only a few seconds before he silently admitted he had absolutely no idea. A faint chuckle escaped him. "You make it sound obvious."

He gestured lightly toward the crowd. "But if you asked me to point out the person acting strangely, I'd probably end up accusing someone who's just lost." Or himself, if he was being honest.

The Twi'lek considered her explanation about preparation as they continued toward the freighter. That part, at least, he understood. Cargo operations worked similarly. You didn't expect a drive failure. You didn't expect a supply shortage. You didn't expect atmospheric delays.

But you still planned for them. If everything went perfectly, the preparations never mattered. If something went wrong, they mattered a great deal. The comparison helped the concept settle into place.

Then her final observation earned another laugh. A genuine one. "There it is." Varro pointed toward her with the hand holding his datapad. "That part I understand."

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "One person making a bad decision causing problems for everyone else feels a lot more familiar than pirate fleets and political crises."

His expression softened slightly afterward. Thoughtful. As they neared the docking platform, he found himself studying the terminal again. Trying. Actually trying.

A few minutes ago he would have walked through the crowd without a second thought. Now he caught himself wondering who belonged and who didn't. Who was working. Who was watching. Who was waiting.

It wasn't enough to identify anything useful. But it was enough to realize how much he had never noticed before. The realization lingered for several steps.

Eventually he glanced over at Shade. "You know..." He hesitated briefly, as though deciding whether the question was foolish. It probably was. That didn't stop him.

"If we're going to be working together for a while..." His eyes drifted back toward the crowd. "...could you teach me?"

The question came without embarrassment. Only curiosity. "I don't mean becoming some kind of security specialist." A small smile appeared. "I already have a job."

The datapad lifted slightly in demonstration. "But recognizing threats. Seeing the things you see." He shook his head. "Today was the first time I've ever thought about half of this."

His gaze returned to her. "And if trouble really starts with one person making a bad decision, it seems useful to know how to spot that person before the consequences start." The smile widened slightly. "And preferably before they decide to shoot at us."

VARRO
• Location: Starport, Muracie, Centares
• Objective: Obtain Security Agent for Supply Run
• Outfit: Cargo Work Attire
• Company: Shade | Crew of the ship.

 

[Shade]

Shade's eyes remained on the flow of the terminal as they walked, though a faint smile found its way onto her face when Varro admitted he could not yet see what she did. There was no disappointment in the confession. Quite the opposite. The fact that he had tried at all mattered far more than whether he had succeeded. Most people never questioned what they saw. They accepted the surface because it was easier than looking beneath it.

She let a few travelers pass between them before answering. Her pace never changed, her attention drifting naturally between the docking platforms, security personnel, and the endless current of beings moving through the concourse. "That kind of thing takes time." Her voice was calm, conversational. "Time and experience. There are no shortcuts that last. You can memorize warning signs, but people have an inconvenient habit of refusing to fit neatly into them."

Her gaze settled briefly on a customs officer sharing a laugh with a dockworker before moving on. "Observation is not about learning to distrust everyone." She shook her head ever so slightly. "It is about learning what belongs, so that when something does not, you notice it before your instincts have time to explain it away." A small pause followed as they continued toward the freighter. "You asked who was acting strangely. That is rarely the right question. A nervous traveler is not necessarily dangerous. A calm one is not necessarily harmless."

She looked over at him then, meeting his curiosity with quiet sincerity. "I will do what I can to teach you." There was no hesitation in the promise. "Not because I expect you to become a security specialist, but because another set of observant eyes makes everyone around them safer. Even if you never reach the same conclusions I do, learning to ask yourself why something feels out of place is often enough."

The loading ramp to the freighter came into view ahead of them, crews continuing their work with practiced efficiency. Shade slowed only slightly as she watched them. "Besides," she added, the faintest trace of humor entering her voice, "you already possess the easiest quality to teach." Her eyes shifted back toward Varro. "Curiosity. Skills can be learned. Experience can be earned. Curiosity is a choice."

Varro

 

[Varro]

A LIFE OF HIS OWN

Varro found himself smiling before he realized he was doing it. There was something reassuring about the way Shade spoke. Not because she made everything sound simple—quite the opposite. Every answer seemed to reveal another layer he hadn't considered. Yet she never made him feel foolish for asking. She simply... answered. Patiently.

His eyes wandered toward the customs officer and dockworker she'd looked at moments before. They were still talking, laughing about something neither he nor Shade could hear. A few minutes ago he would have dismissed the scene without another thought.

Now he wondered. Not whether they were doing something wrong. But whether they belonged there. The distinction finally clicked. His gaze shifted to a pair of travelers arguing over a luggage cart. One looked frustrated. The other embarrassed. Neither seemed dangerous. Just delayed.

"I think I'm starting to understand." He spoke quietly, more to himself than to Shade. "Not understand enough to be useful." A soft chuckle escaped him. "But enough to realize I've been asking the wrong questions." The realization sat comfortably with him.

There had been a time in his life when admitting ignorance had been dangerous. Ignorance had been interpreted as incompetence. Incompetence had invited punishment. Those lessons lingered. Even now, freedom still carried small surprises. Like discovering it was acceptable not to know something. More surprising still...

...that someone was willing to teach him.

When Shade agreed without hesitation, Varro looked at her for a moment, genuinely caught off guard. "You'd do that?"

The words escaped before he could stop them. He immediately laughed at himself. "Sorry." One hand rubbed the back of a lekku sheepishly. "I suppose I still haven't quite gotten used to people offering things without expecting something in return." There wasn't bitterness in the admission. Only honesty. His life simply hadn't contained many teachers. Mostly owners. The distinction mattered.

As they reached the loading ramp, the familiar sounds of the freighter replaced the bustle of the terminal. Cargo loaders called to one another. Equipment whined as repulsor pallets drifted into position. Somewhere deeper inside the ship someone was undoubtedly arguing with a maintenance droid.

Home. At least, as close to one as Varro had ever known. He paused at the foot of the ramp before stepping aboard. "Thank you." Simple words. Entirely sincere. "I'd like to learn."

His eyes drifted over the crew moving efficiently about their work. "I spent most of my life learning how to anticipate one person's moods." The statement came matter-of-factly. No self-pity. Just another truth. "If I could learn to anticipate situations instead..."

A thoughtful smile crossed his face. "...I think I'd become better at this job." He looked back toward Shade. "And maybe someday someone else won't have to hire a security specialist every time I take a shipment to the Outer Rim."

His grin widened just enough to make it clear he was mostly joking. "Though I suspect Ra would appreciate the savings more than you."

With a welcoming gesture toward the open loading ramp, Varro stepped aside. "Come on. I'll introduce you to the crew." He glanced around the cargo hold with the quiet pride of someone who genuinely cared for the vessel entrusted to him. "It's not much compared to some of the big commercial haulers."

His smile softened. "But she's honest." There was a brief pause before he added with unmistakable affection, "And she gets people where they're trying to go."

VARRO
• Location: Starport, Muracie, Centares
• Objective: Obtain Security Agent for Supply Run
• Outfit: Cargo Work Attire
• Company: Shade | Crew of the ship.

 

[Shade]

Shade's gaze wandered across the freighter as they stepped aboard, taking in the organized rhythm of the crew. Cargo moved with practiced efficiency. Equipment hummed. Voices carried familiar routines back and forth across the hold. It lacked the polish of the massive commercial transports that crossed the Core, but there was something else here instead. Pride. The sort that came from people who cared more about doing the work well than impressing anyone watching them.

A faint smile appeared as Varro described the ship.

"Honest is a good quality for a freighter."

She let her fingertips brush lightly against one of the bulkheads as they walked deeper inside, feeling the faint vibration of machinery still settling after landing. "Ships have personalities, whether their captains admit it or not. This one feels...dependable." It was as close to a compliment as she was likely to give a vessel she had only just boarded.

Her attention returned to Varro as they continued toward the crew.

"It is better to improve until you no longer need someone watching your back." Her tone remained warm, though practical as always. "Or your cargo. Or your crew. Or anything else that depends upon your judgment." She allowed the thought to linger before continuing. "The goal of good security is not dependence. It is confidence. Eventually, you notice enough yourself that another pair of eyes becomes reassurance rather than necessity."

A small pause followed as a loader maneuvered a repulsor pallet past them. Shade stepped aside without interrupting the worker's rhythm, then looked back at Varro.

"That said..." The faint trace of humor returned to her voice. "There is nothing wrong with admitting you would benefit from another set of eyes." She inclined her head toward the bustling cargo hold around them. "None of us observes everything. The people who convince themselves otherwise are usually the first ones surprised when something slips past them."

Her crimson eyes drifted over the crew once more, already beginning to memorize faces, habits, and routines without conscious effort.

"Besides," she added quietly, "if I do my job well, there will come a day when you notice something before I do." A faint smile crossed her face. "That will be how I know I've taught you something worthwhile."

Varro

 

[Varro]

A LIFE OF HIS OWN

Varro's eyes wandered around the cargo hold as Shade described the freighter. He tried to see what she saw. The loading crews moved around one another without needing to speak much. One loader anticipated another's turn before it happened. The engineer glanced toward the overhead piping almost instinctively as he passed beneath it. Someone caught a crate before it shifted enough to become a problem.

It all looked...normal. Then again, perhaps that was the point. He smiled. "I haven't learned how to judge a ship yet." One hand rested against the nearest bulkhead. "I know she gets us from one place to another without complaining too much."

His fingers tapped lightly against the metal. "But I couldn't tell you if she's dependable because of the ship..." His gaze drifted toward the crew. "...or because of the people aboard her."

Another loader waved as they walked by. Varro returned it without hesitation. "What I do know..." The smile broadened. "...is the crew." There was quiet confidence in those words. "I'd trust every one of them."

His eyes followed a mechanic disappearing toward engineering. "They work hard. They look out for each other." He paused. "And they looked out for me." The words came softly.

"I was new to all this. Never worked freight before. Nobody made me feel like I didn't belong." It still surprised him sometimes. Not because they had accepted him. Because they had done so without asking for anything first.

Shade's explanation of security slowly pulled his thoughts back to the present. At first, he nodded along. Confidence instead of dependence. That made sense. Then she spoke about watching cargo. Watching the crew. Depending upon judgment. The list grew longer with each sentence. By the time she finished, Varro felt less prepared than he had five minutes earlier.

Oddly enough...

...he wasn't discouraged. Quite the opposite. He simply understood the size of the road ahead. A quiet laugh escaped him. "The more you explain what you actually do..." He shook his head. "...the more convinced I become that Ra made the right decision bringing you aboard."

There wasn't an ounce of pride in the admission. Only appreciation. "I know cargo." His gaze settled on a stack of relief crates. "I know schedules." Then toward the bridge. "I know how to keep people fed, paid, and moving." Finally, he looked back at Shade. "But I don't know security."

The admission felt strangely...easy. A year ago he would have hidden that fact. Pretended. Hoped nobody noticed. That had been survival. Freedom had taught him something different. There was strength in saying, I don't know. There was even greater strength in asking someone else to teach you.

"I've realized something since I started working for Ra." His voice grew thoughtful. "I used to think freedom meant making every decision yourself."

He gave a small shake of his head. "I don't anymore." His expression softened. "I think part of being free is being allowed to admit you aren't ready for something." No punishment. No humiliation. Just honesty. "And trusting someone enough to ask for help."

For a few moments he watched the crew continue their work. The relief supplies. The medical crates. Everything entrusted to them. Everything he was responsible for delivering safely. One realization refused to leave him. "If someone actually tried to take this shipment..."

He looked down at his own hands. Strong hands. Hands that had carried cargo, repaired machinery, and spent years doing whatever work someone demanded. Hands that had never truly learned to fight. "I honestly wouldn't know what to do."

The confession was almost sheepish. "I've been in fights." His smile turned self-deprecating. “Fights” might have been exaggerating the minor skirmishes he’d had in his life. "Usually the kind where someone bigger decided I needed reminding who was in charge."

A beat passed. "That's different from protecting people." His green eyes met Shade's crimson ones. "If you're willing..." There was hope in the question. "...could you teach me that too?"

He smiled apologetically. "Not so I can become some great bodyguard." A quiet chuckle followed. "I don't think anyone's expecting that."

His expression settled into quiet determination. "But if this crew is ever depending on me..." His eyes moved across the cargo hold one more time. "...I'd rather be able to do more than stand between them and the problem."

There was no bravado in the statement. Only a man who had finally found something worth protecting. "And I'd rather learn before I need to."

VARRO
• Location: Starport, Muracie, Centares
• Objective: Obtain Security Agent for Supply Run
• Outfit: Cargo Work Attire
• Company: Shade | Crew of the ship.

 

[Shade]

Shade did not answer immediately. Instead, her attention settled fully upon Varro. The bustle of the cargo hold seemed to fade into the background as her crimson eyes studied him with quiet intensity. It was not the look of someone judging his worth, but of someone assessing what already existed. Height. Reach. Balance. The way he carried his weight when standing still. The calluses across his hands from years of labor rather than combat. His posture when speaking. Where his gaze naturally drifted. It was the practiced evaluation of an assassin who had spent years measuring strengths and weaknesses before deciding how best to act.

By the time her assessment ended, she had reached one conclusion.

He was honest.

Not merely in character, but in movement. There was very little deception in him. His intentions appeared plainly upon his face, and his first instinct remained to protect rather than dominate. Those qualities would make certain lessons easier and others considerably more difficult. None of them, however, made the task impossible.

A small nod followed.

"I will teach you."

There was no flourish to the promise. No attempt to make it sound grander than it was. Simply a quiet commitment offered with the same certainty she brought to everything else. "You already possess something far more difficult to teach than technique." Her gaze briefly shifted toward the crew working throughout the hold. "You have found people worth protecting. Skill is much easier to build upon than purpose."

She glanced around the cargo bay, mentally measuring distances between stacked relief crates, maintenance equipment, and the steady movement of crew members. Useful for loading. Poor for instruction. Too many obstacles. Too many distractions. Too many opportunities for someone to be injured who had nothing to do with the lesson.

Her eyes returned to Varro.

"Is there somewhere aboard this ship with enough open space to teach properly?" She spoke as though the decision had already been made. "Enough room to move freely. Somewhere neither of us has to worry about striking cargo, machinery, or your crew." The faintest trace of humor entered her voice. "Ideally somewhere that does not require explaining to Ra why her relief supplies have acquired blaster-, foot-, or hand-sized holes."

Varro

 

[Varro]

A LIFE OF HIS OWN

Varro scarcely noticed the way Shade studied him. He had lived beneath appraising eyes for most of his life. Buyers had measured muscle and height. Owners had judged obedience. Overseers had looked for weakness. The scrutiny had become so familiar that it rarely registered anymore.

This was different. He had asked for it. Instead of determining what he was worth, Shade seemed to be determining where to begin. That realization made all the difference.

When she finally answered, a genuine smile spread across his face. Not the polite smile he offered customers. Not the self-conscious one that occasionally appeared when someone praised him. A real one. It softened his features and reached his eyes.

"Thank you." The words carried more weight than their simplicity suggested.

He knew she wasn't promising easy lessons. Quite the opposite. From everything she'd told him so far, he suspected the training would be difficult, frustrating, and humbling. That didn't lessen his enthusiasm. If anything, it strengthened it. He had spent years learning skills because someone else demanded them. This would be the first time he learned one because he had chosen to.

Shade's observation about purpose drew another thoughtful nod from him. His eyes wandered across the cargo hold. Crew members laughed as they maneuvered a repulsor pallet into position. Someone in engineering emerged with grease streaked across both forearms, exchanging a joke with one of the loaders before disappearing again. The easy familiarity aboard the freighter had become something he looked forward to every morning.

Then there was Ra. The woman who had looked at a former slave and somehow seen someone capable of responsibility instead. "I think you're right." His voice was quiet. "When I first came aboard, I was mostly trying not to make mistakes."

A faint chuckle escaped him. "I was terrified I'd prove everyone wrong." His gaze lingered on the crew for another moment. "But somewhere along the way..."

He smiled again. "...this stopped being just a job." The relief supplies stacked around them suddenly seemed more significant. These weren't simply crates. They were medicine. Shelter. Food. Hope for people Varro would likely never meet.

"And now I actually care whether all of this reaches Dellalt." He rested a hand against one of the secured containers. "I suppose that makes learning a little easier."

His expression turned thoughtful. "Not easy." He shook his head. "I don't think anything worth learning ever is." Another glance toward Shade. "But easier." The distinction mattered. Purpose didn't remove hardship. It simply made the hardship worth enduring.

When she asked about a place to train, Varro nodded almost immediately. "There is." He gestured toward the corridor leading deeper into the ship. "This isn't exactly a light freighter." There was a hint of pride in his voice. "We carry enough cargo that we also carry enough people to move it."

His hand swept vaguely toward the decks below. "That means places to eat, places to unwind after a shift, somewhere to play sabacc badly..." He smiled. "...and somewhere to complain about the captain's navigation even when he gets us here on time." The joke came easily. It felt good that it did.

"The mess hall should work." He considered the ship's schedule for a moment before nodding to himself. "We won't need it for a while." A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "We're not scheduled for another meal until we're on the return trip."

He started toward the interior corridor, slowing enough for Shade to walk beside him. "It isn't an empty training room." His eyes drifted ahead as they walked. "But there'll be enough room to move."

A brief pause. "And if I end up flat on my back..." He looked over at her with an amused smile. "...at least I'll already be in the right place to think about lunch."

VARRO
• Location: Starport, Muracie, Centares
• Objective: Obtain Security Agent for Supply Run
• Outfit: Cargo Work Attire
• Company: Shade | Crew of the ship.

 

[Shade]

Shade walked beside him at an unhurried pace, taking in the vessel as naturally as she had the terminal outside. The narrow corridors, the placement of access panels, the distance between intersections, the crew moving with practiced familiarity. Every ship developed habits over time, just as every crew did. She was already beginning to build a map in her mind, one that would serve both of them before the journey was over.

At the mention of lunch, the faintest hint of a smile touched her lips as she regarded him with mild amusement. "Do you expect to learn that quickly?" she asked, the question carrying a gentle humor rather than any trace of criticism.

"You might leave this trip with little more than the fundamentals." She glanced toward him, measuring him again, though less as an assassin now and more as an instructor considering where to begin. "That is not a failure. Foundations exist for a reason. The people who try to skip them usually discover why they were there in the first place."

As they continued toward the mess hall, her thoughts turned practical.

"Before I teach you how to strike someone..." she said evenly, "I need to know whether you already know how to be struck." Her crimson eyes met his. "Do you know how to take a hit properly? Or perhaps more importantly..."

A slight tilt of her head accompanied the next question as she studied him, her gaze steady and unblinking. "...do you know how to fall?" The words lingered in the space between them, deliberate and unhurried, before she continued.

"Most people think fighting begins with throwing a punch. It does not." Her voice remained calm and matter-of-fact. "It begins with surviving the first mistake."

Varro

 

[Varro]

A LIFE OF HIS OWN

The faint color that spread across Varro's cheeks was immediate. "Oh." His eyes widened just enough for realization to dawn. "I..." For a heartbeat he stared ahead at the corridor, mentally replaying what he had just said. Of course they wouldn’t finish before the next meal.

He silently groaned at himself. "Really, Varro? She's talking about years of experience and you're already planning lunch breaks." The embarrassment lingered only a moment before another realization followed.

She had been teasing him. Very gently. A nervous laugh escaped him. "I suppose I deserved that."

One hand rubbed the back of his neck. "I know this won't be quick." His smile turned sheepish. "I think I just got ahead of myself." The warmth in his face slowly faded.

"Though..." he added with another quiet chuckle, "...I still suspect we'll have to stop long enough to unload cargo." His hand gestured vaguely toward the stacked containers surrounding them. "And I imagine people learn better after they've eaten."

The grin returned. "So perhaps nourishment has its place somewhere in your lesson plan." The teasing came awkwardly. He wasn't practiced at it. But it felt...comfortable. That alone surprised him.

As Shade spoke about foundations, Varro nodded without hesitation. "That makes sense." He had spent enough time around machinery to know you didn't begin by rebuilding a hyperdrive. You learned how the tools worked first. "I've learned that much already."

His gaze drifted toward the deck beneath his boots. "Every job I've had since coming aboard started with the basics." Loading. Maintenance. Navigation. Paperwork. Each built upon the last.

"There wasn't much point trying to understand freight schedules before I knew where cargo was supposed to go." He smiled. "So...a foundation seems like the right place to begin."

Shade's next question caught him completely off guard. Do you know how to be struck properly? Varro blinked. His first instinct was to answer yes. He had been hit more times than he cared to count. Owners. Guards. Other slaves. Occasionally someone simply having a bad day.

"I've been struck plenty of times." The words left his mouth almost automatically. Then he stopped. His brow furrowed. "...Properly?"

He turned the question over in his mind. No one had ever taught him that. Being hit had simply...happened. "I don't think anyone ever explained there was a proper way." His expression became thoughtful. "I always assumed getting hit was just..."

He made a vague gesture with one hand. "...the unpleasant part."

Then came her second question. Do you know how to fall? That one earned a genuine laugh. "I thought gravity handled most of that." He looked down at himself. "The rest I usually left to instinct."

Another shrug. "I've never broken anything." At least, not any bones. Bruises. Cuts. A few scars. Those had been common enough. "But I can't honestly say I ever learned."

The realization settled over him slowly. There really was more to fighting than he'd imagined. A great deal more. "I've probably done nearly everything wrong." There wasn't embarrassment in admitting it. Only curiosity.

"When slaves fought..." His voice quieted. "...it usually wasn't because either of them knew what they were doing." It was anger. Fear. Desperation. Survival. One mistake followed another until someone couldn't get back up.

"And when the people keeping us were the ones doing the striking..." Varro gave a small shake of his head. "There wasn't much of a fight." You endured. You protected what you could. You waited for it to end.

His green eyes met Shade's once more. "I suppose that's another reason I'm glad we're starting with the foundations." A faint smile returned. "If everything I've done so far has been wrong..." He spread his hands slightly. "...then I don't have many bad habits worth keeping."

VARRO
• Location: Starport, Muracie, Centares
• Objective: Obtain Security Agent for Supply Run
• Outfit: Cargo Work Attire
• Company: Shade | Crew of the ship.

 

[Shade]

A quiet smile remained on Shade's face as Varro worked through his own realization. It was not amusement at his expense, but the satisfaction of seeing someone arrive at an understanding on their own. That was always preferable to forcing the lesson upon them.

"There is nothing wrong with planning lunches," she replied, the hint of humor still present in her voice. "You simply need to set a realistic goal for each session." She continued down the corridor at an easy pace. "Expecting mastery by the next meal is unrealistic. Expecting to leave with one new skill is not."

His explanation of how he had been struck before did not surprise her. It confirmed exactly what she had suspected. Experience and instruction were not the same thing. One happened to you. The other prepared you for it.

"Then we begin where everyone should begin." She glanced toward him. "Today, you will learn how to absorb a strike without making it worse than it already is. More importantly, you will learn how to land when someone succeeds in throwing you." Her tone remained matter-of-fact, as though discussing cargo manifests instead of combat. "If you can fall correctly, you avoid injuries that end fights before they truly begin."

The corridor widened as they approached the mess hall, and Shade was already judging the available space with an instructor's eye.

"Tomorrow, after lunch..." she continued, allowing herself the smallest smile, "...we will likely move on to striking. How to punch without injuring your own hand. How to throw someone without relying entirely on strength. If we progress well, perhaps how to escape a hold." She gave a slight shrug. "One lesson builds upon the last. There is little value in teaching you how to knock someone down if the first time you are knocked down yourself, you cannot stand back up."

Her crimson eyes met his once more.

"Fortunately, you have one advantage over many students." She inclined her head slightly. "You do not believe you already know everything." The faint smile lingered. "That makes you considerably easier to teach."

Varro

 

[Varro]

A LIFE OF HIS OWN

Varro nodded as they continued through the corridor. That, at least, made perfect sense. He had discovered quickly after gaining his freedom that there were very few things worth rushing. For years every mistake had been punished before he had the chance to correct it. Once he had begun working for Ra, he had almost carried that same frantic pace into everything he did. Finish the task faster. Learn it faster. Prove himself faster.

All it had accomplished was creating mistakes that never needed to happen. Eventually one of the senior crew had laughed, slowed him down, and shown him the proper way to secure a cargo net. It had taken twice as long to learn. He hadn't forgotten it since.

"I can live with one lesson at a time." He smiled. "I've learned that rushing usually creates more work than it saves." There was quiet confidence in the statement. No frustration. Just acceptance. He had nowhere else he needed to be.

Shade's outline of today's lesson caused his grin to widen. "So..." He folded his arms thoughtfully. "The plan until we stop for unloading is that I let you punch me..." He counted on one finger. "...kick me..." A second finger joined the first. "...and throw me around..." The third finger appeared before he chuckled. "...until I learn how not to make it worse."

He gave an exaggerated nod. "When you put it that way, it sounds remarkably educational." His tone made it clear he wasn't complaining. If anything, he seemed oddly eager. The grin softened into genuine anticipation. "I've had worse days."

When Shade described tomorrow's lesson, however, he laughed outright. "I like tomorrow's lesson better." The idea of learning to punch sounded considerably more appealing than learning how to hit the deck repeatedly.

His amusement faded as she continued explaining why the order mattered. By the time she finished, he found himself nodding again. There it was. Another piece that fit. If he couldn't survive someone else's attack, there was little point worrying about launching his own.

"I suppose it would be embarrassing to learn how to throw a proper punch..." He tilted his head slightly. "...only to lose because I tripped over my own feet."

His smile lingered. "Or because I landed badly after someone else decided to introduce me to the floor." The image amused him more than it probably should have. "No." He shook his head. "That makes sense." It wasn't glamorous. It wasn't exciting. It was practical. He was beginning to suspect that described nearly everything Shade taught.

Then she mentioned his advantage. Varro blinked before another laugh escaped him. "I suppose ignorance can be quite dangerous." His smile became a little more self-aware. "Not just to the person who has it."

He glanced toward the mess hall as it came into view. "I've met people who thought they knew everything." Another quiet chuckle. "They usually managed to convince everyone else of it too."

He looked back to Shade. "I'd rather be the fellow asking questions." There wasn't the slightest embarrassment in the admission. "I spent too many years pretending I understood things because it was safer than admitting I didn't."

His shoulders rose in a small shrug. "Freedom lets you say, 'I don't know.'" The words carried an unexpected warmth. "And it turns out that's usually the beginning of actually learning."

As they stepped into the mess hall, Varro looked around the open space before turning back toward Shade with an easy smile. "Well..." He spread his arms slightly. "I believe this is where my education becomes considerably more painful."

VARRO
• Location: Starport, Muracie, Centares
• Objective: Obtain Security Agent for Supply Run
• Outfit: Cargo Work Attire
• Company: Shade | Crew of the ship.

 

[Shade]

Shade allowed herself the faintest smile as Varro described the coming lessons with exaggerated resignation. His enthusiasm was encouraging, even if it was directed toward an admittedly unpleasant beginning. Many people wanted to learn how to fight. Very few were willing to begin by learning how vulnerable they actually were. The fact that he accepted the order of the lessons without complaint told her he understood their purpose, even if he did not yet appreciate their importance.

"I will not pull my punches," she said evenly. "But neither will I intentionally try to harm you." Her voice remained calm, carrying the certainty of someone who had spent years balancing effectiveness with restraint. "There is a difference between causing pain and causing injury. You will likely experience the first. I have no interest in the second."

As they crossed into the mess hall, her attention naturally shifted from conversation to the room itself. She noted the spacing between tables, the overhead fixtures, the width of the aisles, and the clear floor available once the furniture was moved aside. It was not ideal, but it would serve. "When we begin, I will move slowly enough to allow your reflexes to respond." She looked back toward him with the composed expression of an instructor already planning the lesson ahead. "Then I will show you where those reflexes are helping you...and where they are working against you. Most people have spent their entire lives teaching themselves habits they never realized they had."

The smallest professional smile returned to her lips.

"It is easier to correct those habits before speed enters the equation." She paused, looking around the mess hall one final time before settling her attention once more upon Varro. "Tell me...does this ship have training mats or padded flooring stored somewhere?" There was the faintest trace of humor in her voice. "I would prefer your first lesson to leave you with knowledge rather than bruises, if the choice is available."

Varro

 

[Varro]

A LIFE OF HIS OWN

Varro listened without interrupting. To say he was looking forward to the lesson after hearing the particulars would have been stretching the truth. There was nothing especially appealing about volunteering to be punched. Or kicked. Or thrown onto the floor. Still...

He found himself nodding anyway. "I suppose half an effort wouldn't teach me much." A faint smile crossed his face. "If you spent the whole lesson trying not to hit me, I'd probably learn all the wrong things."

He chuckled softly. "I appreciate the distinction, though." Pain and injury. The difference sounded obvious when spoken aloud. Somehow he suspected the pain would still be memorable. He had a feeling bruises might be unavoidable, even if they weren't the objective. That was simply part of learning.

As Shade explained how the lesson would begin, Varro found himself relaxing again. Slowly. Allowing his instincts to react. Then examining why they had reacted that way. It sounded...methodical. Comfortingly so.

"I like that approach." He nodded. "It gives me a chance to understand what I'm doing before trying to fix it."

His thoughts drifted backward. Years backward. "I might be a little different than most people." The admission came quietly. "My habits..."

He searched for the right words. "...were built around someone else's approval." Not survival alone. Approval. Standing correctly. Moving correctly. Speaking when spoken to. Avoiding punishment.

Every action had once revolved around anticipating another person's expectations. "I don't always react because something is the best choice." His smile turned rueful. "Sometimes I react because it used to keep someone else from getting angry."

The realization still surprised him when it surfaced. "I imagine some of that will show itself." He didn't sound embarrassed. Merely curious. Like another puzzle waiting to be understood.

The more Shade described correcting habits before increasing speed, the more convinced Varro became she knew exactly what she was doing. "That makes sense too." He folded his arms thoughtfully. "If we start moving quickly..."

His fingers tapped absently against one forearm. "...I don't think I'll remember anything you've shown me." He smiled. "I'll just do whatever I've always done." Fight. Freeze. Protect his head. Cover his ribs. Hope it ended soon. Habits. Nothing more.

"But if we slow everything down first..." He nodded once. "...there's time to notice where instinct takes over." His smile widened. "And maybe convince it to choose something smarter."

Shade's question about mats pulled his attention toward the adjoining corridor. "We do." He thought for a moment. "There are some exercise mats in the recreation room." A slight shrug followed. "I'm just not certain how many."

The rec room wasn't designed as a gymnasium. Crew members used it for cards, dejarik, the occasional workout, or simply somewhere different to sit after long shifts. "There isn't nearly as much open space as there is here."

His eyes wandered around the mess hall again. "The rec room would be softer." Then back toward the tables surrounding them. "The mess hall would give us more room."

Another thoughtful pause. "I suppose that's your first lesson in cargo ships." He smiled. "There's always enough space..."

The grin became more playful. "...until you actually need it." He gestured toward the doorway leading toward the recreation room. "We can at least see how many mats we've got." A brief chuckle escaped him. "If nothing else, perhaps they'll save me from becoming too well acquainted with the deck plating on the first day."

VARRO
• Location: Starport, Muracie, Centares
• Objective: Obtain Security Agent for Supply Run
• Outfit: Cargo Work Attire
• Company: Shade | Crew of the ship.

 

[Shade]

Shade listened without interruption as Varro explained where many of his instincts had come from. She watched the way he spoke almost as closely as she listened to the words themselves. His posture shifted subtly whenever he spoke of his past, his shoulders settling into habits so practiced they no longer seemed deliberate. Even his choice of words carried traces of someone who had spent years measuring every action against another person's expectations. There was nothing surprising about it. It was simply another piece of the person she would be teaching.

She gave a slow nod of understanding.

"That," she said evenly, "is the kind of personal training that will be the hardest to unlearn." There was no judgment in her voice, only observation. "Physical habits can usually be corrected with repetition. The ones built through years of fear or approval take considerably longer. They become part of how you perceive the world before you ever have time to think."

Her crimson eyes remained on him for another moment before she continued toward the recreation room.

"The good news is that you already recognize they exist." The faintest professional smile appeared. "Many people never do. They mistake conditioning for instinct and spend the rest of their lives wondering why they continue making the same mistakes."

She reached the doorway and glanced inside, taking a quick inventory of the available equipment before looking back to Varro.

"Let's see how many mats there are." Her attention had already shifted to the practicalities of the lesson ahead. "We'll bring them into the mess hall. The extra space will matter more than the room itself."

The smallest hint of amusement touched her expression.

"Besides," she said, "if I do my job properly, you'll only become well acquainted with the deck plating after you've learned how to meet it correctly."

Varro

 

[Varro]

A LIFE OF HIS OWN

For the first time since they had begun talking about training, Varro's smile faltered. Only slightly. Shade hadn't said anything cruel. She hadn't even said anything unexpected. If anything, she had simply confirmed what he already knew. Still...

Hearing someone else say it aloud carried a different weight. His habits born from slavery would be harder to unlearn than poor footwork or an awkward punch. He lowered his eyes for a moment. "I know." The words came quietly. "I think...I've known for a while."

That didn't make accepting it any easier. There were days when he caught himself apologizing for things that needed no apology. Days when he asked permission before making decisions that were entirely his own. Days when a raised voice, even one not directed at him, caused his shoulders to tense before his mind had time to understand why. Those moments frustrated him more than any physical weakness ever could.

After a long breath, he looked back to Shade. "But you're right." A small nod followed. "At least I know where those habits came from." That counted for something. "It isn't all me figuring it out on my own."

A warmer smile returned as another face came to mind. "Ra has been...patient." There was genuine gratitude in his voice. "She reminds me, sometimes without even realizing she's doing it, that those habits don't belong in the life I have now." He chuckled softly. "I'll apologize for asking a question."

Or for taking too long. Or for speaking too quickly. "And she'll look at me like she's trying to figure out why I think I needed permission." The memory brought another smile. "She's done a lot to help me understand that those habits don't help me anymore."

His gaze drifted around the ship. "They stop me from becoming the person I could be." There was no bitterness in the statement. Only resolve.

"So..." He gave a small shrug. "I suppose this is another step." Another habit. Another lesson. Another piece of the old life left behind.

Shade's suggestion about moving the mats earned an immediate nod. "The mess hall it is."

Then her final remark drew an unexpected laugh. "So with proper instruction..." He grinned. "...I'll still be introduced to the deck."

His eyebrows lifted. "I'll simply be introduced correctly." The image amused him far more than it probably should have. "I suppose that's progress."

Turning down the adjoining corridor, Varro led the way into the recreation room. Compared to the mess hall, it was cozy. A dejarik table occupied one corner. A sabacc table another. Shelving lined one wall, filled with books, holofilms, and a handful of well-used board games that had clearly survived many long hyperspace journeys. A compact exercise area sat opposite the entrance, its equipment neatly organized despite the limited space available.

"There." He pointed toward the far corner. Three thick exercise mats rested neatly stacked against the bulkhead. Each was roughly as long as Varro was tall and wide enough for him to lie comfortably across. "I was hoping we'd have more."

He walked over and lifted the top mat with practiced ease. "But I think three should give us enough padding to start." With the mat balanced easily against one shoulder, he looked back toward Shade. "I suppose the first lesson begins with carrying the classroom."

His grin returned. "Fortunately, this part I'm already qualified for."

VARRO
• Location: Starport, Muracie, Centares
• Objective: Obtain Security Agent for Supply Run
• Outfit: Cargo Work Attire
• Company: Shade | Crew of the ship.

 

[Shade]

Shade watched him for a quiet moment as he gathered the first mat. Even carrying it, there were small tells in the way he moved. His posture remained open, his balance centered more through habit than training, and his attention naturally drifted toward whatever task occupied his hands. Useful qualities aboard a freighter. Less so when another person intended to put him on the ground. She committed each observation to memory without comment. There would be time enough to address them one at a time.

"Everyone arrives with habits," she said as she lifted the remaining mats with practiced ease. "Some are useful. Others were useful once." Her eyes met his briefly as they stepped back into the corridor. "The difficult part is recognizing when circumstances have changed, but the habit has not."

Together they carried the mats back into the mess hall. The room remained empty, giving them more than enough space to work. Shade selected an open section of deck well clear of the tables before lowering her share to the floor. She arranged the three mats into a single training surface, checking that their edges met cleanly, leaving no gaps that might catch a foot during the lesson.

Only once the makeshift training area satisfied her did she step onto it herself.

"Remove anything from your pockets that might become uncomfortable." Her tone remained matter-of-fact as she slipped off her own coat and folded it neatly over the back of a nearby chair, leaving herself free to move. "Datapads, tools, keys. If you land on them, they will hurt more than I ever intend to."

She waited until he was ready before continuing.

"We are not learning to fight today." She raised one hand to emphasize the point. "We are learning to fall." Without another word, she bent her knees into a controlled squat before allowing herself to roll backward onto the mat. Her chin tucked naturally toward her chest as her back met the padding in sequence rather than all at once, and at the moment of impact both arms swept outward, striking the mat with open palms to spread the force. In one smooth motion she rocked forward again and returned to her feet.

"Your first instinct will likely be to catch yourself." She looked directly at Varro. "Do not." There was no room for ambiguity in her voice. "People reach for the floor with their wrists, elbows, or shoulders. They trade a bruised back for broken joints." She gestured toward the mat beneath them. "Instead, you will learn to let your body absorb the impact, protect your head, and spread the force across the largest area possible."

A faint, professional smile returned.

"Go slowly. There is no prize for reaching the floor first."

Varro