It was a **looks outside** dark and stormy night...

[Galdaart]

Mirrac wore his very best winning smile, betraying none of the doubt he was currently feeling. "Of course, of course. Thank you for being so prompt. My Lord T'oran will be most appreciative. This way, if you please."

The PB droid voiced a greeting in Basic (echoed in Huttese and Gamorrean) and offered to carry any bags or offerings Vee might have for Lord T'oran, but was summarily waved off by Mirrac, as they moved off across the wind-swept landing pad. "Please excuse PB. Just following programming. Of course, we wouldn't expect you to provide offerings, especially under the circumstances." Again, the winning smile. "I must say, I am impressed. I thought I had heard of most of the pilots of renown in this sector, and you are not amongst the names I expected to see. You must be something very special indeed."

He let that hang as they neared the entrance to the palace. The massive door swept two-thirds of the way up its track and stopped -- more than adequate to admit humanoids, but there was obvious damage to the mechanism that would not allow the door to retract fully. either Mirrac not the droid took notice of it. Obviously, it had been that way for some time.

Inside, conditions were no better. There was obvious blaster-damage on the walls, and hasty repairs had obviously become the norm, rather than the exception, as door mechanisms, digital displays and various switch-gear along the halls hung out from their fittings, bundles of wiring anchoring them to the wall. Maybe one in five lights functioned, and in the pools of darkness they walked through, bundles of rags (bodies? ...Vee couldn't be sure) occasionally lay haphazzardly, along the walls, or blocking their path. Mirrac again took little notice, stepping over what couldn't easily be avoided. There was a constant smell of rot, and mildew, and at various doors they passed (all open) they passed rooms sparsely filled with beings paying games of chance, or processing and cutting spice, or taking inventory of crates (mostly labelled as property of some other government or association.) They passed one large room that looked to be some sort of manufacturing centre, but had devolved into some sort of impromptu dance hall.

Everywhere there were thugs, guards, various scum of all shapes and sizes. Three times they were passed by beings so hulking and vast, moving down a hall they were traversing, the trio were forced to hug the wall to make way. Droids of various colours and types, in various states of disrepair attended to odd jobs and moved past them. Everywhere Vee looked was clear and obvious signs of piracy and major crime.

Whatever they were moving toward, the smell and the noise increased. There was more light here as well, and more activity. Twice they were passed by droids carrying unconscious beings down the hall, and a man in shackles and chains was led out of a side passageway ahead of them. It was anarchy.

Never once was Vee asked to remove her weaponry. But the inference was clear: if she wanted to cause trouble, she was welcome, but everything and anything in this place was equally dangerous, most were looking for a fight, and she'd take her chances if she chose to act aggressively.

After what seemed like ten minutes of moving deeper into the vast structure, they emerged into the central reception chamber. It was a feast for the eyes. There were no fewer than fifteen, maybe twenty mercenaries and soldiers around the room, some plotting routes or discussing details of a plan with others, some just sitting and taking it all in. Loot and crates of various types, containing all manner of junk, trinkets, weapons, artifacts and other goods littered the room -- some neatly piled, others looking as though they had been discarded and left to rot. Dancers awaited a command, and chained prisoners likewise awaited their fate. Currently, T'oran Yash was entertaining himself watching a battle droid whose photoreceptors had been ripped out struggle to find its rifle, which was being dragged around the floor by a struggling mouse droid. The Hutt was enjoying this a great deal, laughing fitfully.

Mirrac signalled for Vee to wait at a certain place, flanked by two soldiers, an immensely fat Gamorrean, and a diminutive humanoid with rat-like teeth and black eyes. The guards seemed to take little notice of her, as Mirrac moved up, onto T'oran's dais, and spoken closely to the Hutt. There was an immediate reaction, as T'oran signalled for silence, the slug twisting to look at Vee. The room fell to silence at once, with the exception of the battle droid, that continued to search for its rifle.

Mirrac Iltec addressed the room:

"T'oran Yash, provider for his people, protector, Lord and Master of the realm, welcomes and recognizes the pilot Vee. Approach!"

Shoved forward by the Gamorrean, Vee finds herself with no fewer than forty pairs of eyes on her. T'oran is small for a Hutt, which is to say that he's still a disgusting, slimy slug, but he is only perhaps twelve feet long, and nowhere near as rotund as some of his brethren. Contrary to most Hutts, he wears clothing (of a sort.) A wide belt wraps across his broad chest, hanging from it are various trinkets, blasters, knives, and at least four scalps / pelts (it would not be difficult to guess these were from those who displeased him.)

"Chowbasa, Ootmian. Uba koona granee niboa, hoo hoo hoo..." (loosely translated: "Welcome outlander. You are going to do me a great favor, ho ho ho." It was framed as a statement. There was no option built in for question or proposal.

"Gardo -- Koose mi do goo sleemo Slag!" (again translated: "Guards -- bring me the slime-ball scum slave!")

Two armed guards disappeared behind the dias and reappeared a minute later, dragging a lifeless, bloodied form with them, which was summarily dumped at Vee's feet.

"Bolla." ("go.")

 

[Vee]

Vee remained stone-faced the entire trek through the palace to T'oran, ignoring Mirracs comments. It took everything in her being not to flee out of that hell-hole. She marched on, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and her breathing, eyes darting around for any potential danger. It seemed her lie worked...for now. She needed to get out of here, pronto. Her mind quickly worked to form a plan of action, but as she did, her stomach flipped and her spirit fell.

She wouldn't take any money, she decided, trying hard not to cringe as the horrible smell became more potent. She would agree to do whatever it is T'oran wanted her to do...then she would leave and never come back. With no money, there was no reason to come after her, right? Sure, they may be upset, but that wouldn't warrant the creds and use of resources to find her, right? The Hutts had no authority on Mandalore. No true mando'ad would hunt her down for the Hutts. You didn't side with slugs against family.

Still, the thought of being on the run from the Hutts was terrifying. This was putting her in a position she had long avoided with every ounce of her being. Once you worked for a criminal organization, you were never free. You could be killed, tortured or penalized for anything, even if you were innocent. If you weren't treated fairly or paid correctly, there was nothing you could do about it. It was a lot of trouble for nothing, trouble that Vee wanted nothing to do with.

Finally they were there. Vee had never seen a Hutt in person, but the sight of T'oran made her want to vomit. She supposed she should have expected it, given the state his residence was in, but it still hadn't prepared her. She had to get out of here.

Vee jumped at the unexpected push forward to the Hutt, curtailing her natural response to lash out verbally and physically to the guard who touched her. Standing before T'oran, she tried her best to keep her hands and arms by her side, though her fingers ached to be on her weapons. However, that could be seen as a threat, and the last thing the redhead wanted was a fight to break out while she was in the palace.

Though she did not speak Huttese, she did understand it fairly well. The 'favor' was expected, but her brow furrowed when the Hutt mentioned bringing out the 'slave'. Her head turned in the direction T'oran motioned, her nerves coming back at full force. What slave? During the minute it took to bring said slave out, she quickly tried to think of what she could have possibly done (besides kill his henchmen) or associated with that would give her name to T'oran.

She still hadn't conjured up an idea of what was going on when the body was drug out. Vee squint to make out who this slave was, her eyes widening as she recognized the man. It was the guy from Monks.

Stupid fucking bastard...Vee thought. All he had to do was take me up on the offer to get him off planet. While that was true, Vee couldn't help but feel all this was her fault.

That's because it is...the voice inside her head said.

His choice, he choose not to listen...he didn't have to be picked up, that's on him. Vee combated, trying to keep guilt at bay. The man looked a horrible mess and smelled even worse. Despite this, she bent over to pick up the man at T'oran's command to leave. Normally she would ask what the job was, how much it paid, but it didn't matter. She was going to get her ass out of here and never come back.

Vee slung the mans arm around her neck, holding onto his hand on the other side while her left arm went around the mans waist to help support him. The mans head fell forward, but Vee didn't care. "Thank you, glorious Lord T'oran." She was hardly able to spat out the words, the stench was so great. She unceremoniously turned with the man in tow and walked directly towards the exit as fast as her booted feet could afford her.

She went back through the palace with Mirrac at her heels, careful not to trip over whatever garbage was strewn about. "Are you aware of the details?" Mirrac called behind her as he hurried to keep up with her long-legged pace. Even with the man in tow, Vee was strong and could move quickly, especially given the shorter statue of the man.

"I know this man." Vee said through grit teeth. "I'm sure he'll know what this is all about, or else Lord T'oran would have told me."

"Shall I help see you out?"

"No, I'm fine. I'll be back as soon as we have or do whatever it is Lord T'oran wants."

They were approaching the exit, thank Kad. All she wanted to do was get on her ship and get the hell out of here. As soon as she cleared unto the landing pad, she turned her head away from the man and breathed in deeply, trying to rid her nostrils of the palace.

 

[Galdaart]

It was over an hour later that Sate awoke. At first, it was hard to tell if he was awake or not, as his eyes were swollen shut, and the black simply became less-black. He didn't know where to grab -- it all hurt. But that was a good thing. He had been counting the beatings until it stopped hurting, and thankfully that had not arrived.

He was on something marginally softer than the floor of the Hutt's prison cell, and one thing was for sure. He was in motion. Or, whatever he was currently being carried upon was in motion. He reached out, and found nothing directly above him, but there were bars to his left. Not the type that kept a body captive, but the type that kept a body from falling out. A bunk. He was in a bunk. On some sort of small craft. (Big cruisers didn't move like this... or was that his head playing tricks on him?) He could have spoken out, but still tasted crimson in his mouth, and felt the odd, sharp angles of broken teeth that had cut his mouth to ribbons, recently enough that he wasn't excited about speaking, and possibly re-opening the wounds that had only just begun to heal.

And so he lay there, bound for who-knew-where, awaiting his fate.

 

[Vee]

Vee had unceremoniously dropped the man on her meager cot in the small cabin meant for sleeping. A scowl now adorned her face as she quickly jogged to the cockpit, slender fingers flying over the controls as she hurriedly tried to get them up in the air, even before she fell into the pilot's seat. They were up within seconds and, as Vee put distance between them and T'oran, she contemplated what to do next.

Of course she couldn't stay on the moon now, as she had zero intention of completing whatever little mission the Hutt wanted. She had all her belongings with her in the ship, there was no need to land. But the man's belongings...surely he had creds if he was searching for a pilot. If they had been on him when T'orans thugs picked him up, they were long gone now. Maybe there was money at his lodging. This was as much for the man's benefit as it was for hers, she thoughts bitterly. She needed credits, yes...but the man also needed medical attention. If she could get him some help, he might pay her in return. Either way, she didn't have the money to get him to a doctor. She barely had money to feed herself and could bless her lucky stars that she used most of what she had left on fuel for the Tracyn.

She circled back to town, landing where she was docked before. As soon as they were secure, she beelined it for her cabin. "Hey." Vee firmly shook the man, leaning over him. "You need help and I don't have the money for it. Tell me where you're staying and I'll go get some creds to get you a doctor." When he didn't respond, Vee kicked the bed, more in frustration than anything. Damn, he looked horrible. Maybe he had some identification in a pocket, some idea of where he was housed?

Vee went over him, patting him down. Nothing. T'orans thugs took everything, just like she thought. "Hey!" Vee exclaimed with irritation, jostling him again. "Tell me where your money is, I swear I'll get a doctor for you. But no creds, no doctor." She knew of one who was fairly cheap and could see patients quickly. He was seedy, but it wouldn't cost an arm and a leg. She would pocket whatever was left for her trouble.

But it's your fault he got hurt. the voice said.

Shut up. Vee pushed back, her scowl deepening. All he had to do was hire me...he would rather be beaten within an inch of his life instead. That's his fault.

And yet the guilt wouldn't leave her. "I'm going to get you to a doctor, you're going to give me some creds, then I'm going to get us both off this filthy planet. Then we'll be even." Vee declared out loud, not even sure the man heard her.

 

[Galdaart]

The voice filtered through the haze (though not at first) and was completely unknown to Sate. There were questions asked, and a tension to the disembodied voice, but it wasn't until things got calm again that his head cleared enough to process anything. He pushed an eye open, just a slit, and raised an arm to shield against the light from above. He still couldn't make out the figure above him, it was just an outline, a halo backlit by the overhead fixture. When he spoke, his voice sounded like he was gargling marbles, due to swollen and lacerated cheeks and tongue, but there was no denying it was his voice. He was alive.

where're we? who're you?

Instead of waiting for answers, he tried to get up. He ribs protested violently, as did his left shoulder, for reasons that were unknown to Sate. It was just white-noise. Pain. But he didn't let the pain stop him, nor the hand that appeared against his chest, trying to keep him down. He swatted it away and sat up, elbows immediately resting heavily against knees as he swung his legs over the edge of the bunk. The movement allowed him to take physical stock: ribs, something to do with the arm, and one of his hands was not doing what it should have. His back hurt, and he couldn't find a position to sit comfortably, but that was most likely to do with the ribs. They were out of T'oran's palace, that was certain. The smell was gone, and it was brighter, cleaner, and there were far fewer people hitting him.

need m'gear...

 

[Vee]

As the man swung his legs over the cot, Vee gave up trying to secure him. She stepped back, her mouth twisting into a scowl so deep, her face almost appeared disfigured. She rested her slender hands upon her hips as she attempted to decipher what the man was trying to say. Finally understanding, the Mandalorian frantically thought on a strategy to get creds out of this situation...and appease her rapidly growing guilt.

"We can get your gear." she bit out as slowly as she could manage in her irritation. Her scar stood out in stark contrast upon her darkened face as she glared down at the man. "But you have to tell me where you're lodging so you can get it."

When the man said nothing, Vee took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She felt like she was going to explode. How could so much go so wrong in less than a day? She wanted to grab the man, throw his wrecked, shorter frame against the wall and scream in his face, educating him on how he completely fucked up everything for her. Instead, she slowly blew out the carbon dioxide and opened her blue-green eyes that were still spitting fire. Her boots creaked as she lowered herself to rest on the balls of her feet, about a yard away from the cot. Her arms rested on her knees, hands balled unintentionally into fists.

"My name is Vee." she said with forced patience. "You're on my ship, the Tracyn. I got you out of T'oran the Hutt's palace. You're severely injured and need help. I know a doctor who can do it for a good price, but we have to go to your lodging first to get your stuff." Her eyes shifted back and forth, up and down over his form and face, assessing for any comprehension of her words. "Do you understand?"

 

[Galdaart]

Her. Her.

It had taken his ears a moment to recognize her voice. It had been a busy cantina, but out in the street afterwards, he had heard it clear. Her accent. The inflections. He was certain. Which means his plan had worked like a charm. Hell -- it wasn't really a plan. More a lack of other options. He didn't know anybody on this rock, so when the beatings became less about getting information and more about venting frustration, he had nothing left but to dangle the one thing he could offer, and it was a handy piece of 'frak you' to be able to bring her down with him.

He laid back on the bed, the single piercing, blue eye that wasn't swollen shut boring a hole through her. He had been sluggish to come 'round, but now that he had his senses, there was no doubt he had full control of his faculties. He gingerly laid the injured arm across his chest, and moved the other behind his head, propping himself up to better see her. A wry smile touched his bruised features. When he spoke, he picked and pronounced his words carefully, and though it was obvious the lacerations and swelling were making the speaking difficult, there was no difficulty understanding him this time.

No lodging, 'Vee.' See, I came straight from the starport to the cantina, where we met. My gear's in a locker outside level six, bay 218. So feel free... drop by and let's get my gear. We'll need it where we're going. He silenced her protest before she had a chance to utter a word. Yes, I said 'we.' You were annoyed enough at the bar -- because I didn't choose you and your ship -- that I'd wager credits to Bantha poodoo it was you who essentially called a hit out on me. pause You ended my life, Vee. So when I was staring long and hard at the long dark goodnight, I sold my soul to the devil. I offered the Hutt something he couldn't refuse, and it saved my life. pause And I'm all about saving my own life, Vee. So I gave up your location, and your description as the only pilot for the job. And he jumped at that, too. So now you're in his pocket, along with me.

...so you wanted to be my pilot? Guess what? You're going to get your shot. Remember how I said your ship was too big, and I didn't think you were right for the job? And then you kriffing cancelled my life? Well, you better hope you're as good as you were boasting, or we're both dead.

...and that Doctor you know? You better hope he's good, 'cause if I'm not 100% when we get where we're going, we're both dead.

...and that idea in the back of your head about ditching my body in a dumpster somewhere and getting out of system -- You work for a Hutt now, Vee. the smile broadens You run, you'll run forever, till they catch you. And then you'll be dead. And you don't have what's in my head, so you can't do the job without me. So you kill me, you're killing yourself.

You did this. This is your fault. If you had simply walked away, you'd still be a free woman. You did this to me, and then I did this to you. Payback's a queen, huh? Now go get me a glass of water, you doublecrossing poisonous kark. We've got a Dive to plan.

 

[Vee]

Vee's face became redder in anger as the man finally explained his plans. Yet she remained perfectly still, hands clenching tighter and tighter into fists as her anger mounted. It wasn't so much what he said as how he said it. She had already had a suspicion as to why he called on her, so that wasn't shocking. But the smug, commanding arrogance...that's what did it. With every word that came out of his wrecked mouth, her guilt receded.

There was a deafening silence after he finished. The Mandalorian crouched as motionless as a statue near his bedside, her vivid blue-green eyes like twin fires boring into his once-more reclined form. Then, with a sudden flash of movement, she was at his side.

Vee leaned over him, pushing the end of one of her blasters hard against his throat. With the other arm she put all her weight upon his chest to prevent him from moving. With voice deathly calm, she gazed steadily into his eyes as she bit out her words.

"This is what's going to happen, arutii." she began, her accent becoming thicker with every word. "I am going to leave this rock. If you want off Shaddaa, you're going to pay me 10,000 credits. If you don't, I will dump your sorry ass and leave without you." Her eyes narrowed as she clenched her teeth. "The Hutts have no authority on Mandalore. You can find your way from there."

She stood up with a jerk, holstering her blaster as she stepped away from the cot. "I'll be in the cockpit when you're ready to make your decision." As she left, she tossed over her shoulder snidely before disappearing around the corner, "Get your own damn water."

 

[Galdaart]

His eye widened as she moved to him, but when he spoke it wasn't with fear in his voice, but certainty. The voice may have been a whisper due to the pressure she was exerting on his chest, but there was an edge to it that said he meant everything he said, and would back it up.

She didn't get a chance to get up. When she had finished speaking, the blaster still pressed to his jaw, he had grabbed a hair-brush from behind the cot on a side table. Not exactly a fearsome weapon, but the handle was metal, and shaped in such a way that with enough pressure, it would be a fine shiv. This implement now rested painfully against her abdomen as he pressed his point of view.

You think I'm scared of dying, Vee? I die every time I go to work. That blaster ain't got nothin' on my day-job. So save it, or I stick 5" of hair-brush into your thorax.

You're not going anywhere, except the coordinates I provide for you. And you'll do it if you want to keep your head atop your neck. Because last time I checked, Hutts don't care much for authority. Mandalore or not. And the Bounty Hunters that will follow you wherever you go will make sure you live the rest of your broken, sorry-ass life looking over your shoulder, no matter what rock you hide under. And as for credits -- it'll be a cold day on Mustafar before I pay you. Way I see it -- and the way any sane person who heard the tale would see it -- you owe me. Not the other way around. You think I pay you for a trip off world, and then we're even? What about the price on my head, what about my lost income and the fact that you just turned me into an outlaw on Shaddaa? I pay you?? You've got a hell of a nerve.

So put your game face on, and stop acting like a child. You don't get to wriggle of this hook. You wanted this job back in that cantina. And now you're going to get it. And when we do the job, you'll either be dead if you aren't as good as you claim, or you'll get your payment and more from the Hutt.

Hair brush still pressed painfully against her soft, toned abdomen, he hissed, defiance in his voice. Your move.

 

[Vee]

"Your move."

Vee pulled the trigger. It was set on stun so it would knock the man out, but wasn't strong enough to harm him or keep him out long. "Spare me." she sneered dryly at the man's unconscience form. As she pulled away from the bed, sheathing her blaster, Vee knocked the hairbrush to the floor from the man's lax grip, kicking it away from the bed before grabbing some professional-level hand cuffs out of her stash. Uncerimoniously, she cuffed the man to the bed; wrists and ankles. Insuring nothing else was in reach for the man to use as a weapon, she sat down heavily in a built-in seat in the wall across the bed.

Karking, dirty bastard.

Level 6, Bay 218? Probably a lot of lockers. A shame there was no key or identification on the man. She could break into all of them and steal everything, but doing that by herself would get her killed if she were caught. That was likely. She growled in irritation. She needed the credits, especially if this SOB was going to get medical attention. The thought of dumping him here and flying off to Mandalore was still an attractive option, but despite her fleeing guilt, she knew she would likely regret the decision in the future.

"Haar'chak." she muttered violently under her breath, standing up and kicking the frame of the bed with her dragon-hide boots. Was she really going to do this? Take this man on a mission for a Hutt lord? He made some excellent points. Would a small-time Hutt like T'oran really waste his time, money and energy trying to find a random pilot? Doubtful, but one could never tell. Even if he did, would it be worth keeping one eye open at night compared to forever being under the Hutt's thumb? She cursed in Mando'a again. All this because the filthy idiot wouldn't hire her. He dared to blame her for this when he was the one who chose not to take her up on her offer.

She looked up from her brooding to see the man stirring on the bed. She didn't move, but whistled at the man instead, attempting to snag his attention. "Welcome back." she said snidely. "Before we go any further, let's set the record straight. You're here because you didn't want to take me up on my offer. You could have. You didn't. Your fault. So you can go fuck yourself." She held up two fingers high enough to he could see them. "Second, you misunderstand...I literally need the credits or we're not going anywhere. Out of food, no creds to get you medical attention, and no creds to fuel the ship long enough to get to wherever you're going...much less fix her up if she needs it. So if you expect to go anywhere with me, you're going to pay the fuck up, because tossing your sorry ass overboard and taking my chances with bounty hunters is starting to look better every single time I look at you."

 

[Galdaart]

She looked up from her brooding to see the man stirring on the bed. She didn't move, but whistled at the man instead, attempting to snag his attention. "Welcome back." she said snidely. "Before we go any further, let's set the record straight. You're here because you didn't want to take me up on my offer. You could have. You didn't. Your fault. So you can go kark yourself."

He came around quicker this time (good, there was a reduced chance of brain injury or swelling, or concussion. He wasn't certain after the beating he had taken... but reviving so quickly after a point-black stun blast was a good sign. Still, didn't mean that his head didn't have a whole new way to hurt.) He shook off the cobwebs, and refocused on her, sitting a little further away. Suited him fine.

Go ahead Vee. Delude yourself. Did she even know what a Dust Diver was? He was pretty sure he hadn't told her any of the particulars surrounding his profession, the upcoming job, what the failure rate in his line of work was, and what the certain outcome of failure meant. By turning her down for the job, he had saved her life. Not that he expected a 'thank-you.' How was she to know? How could she know that when he had looked at her in the cantina, he hadn't doubted in her belief that she could do his job... he had been unwilling to drag her off to her likely death. It wasn't chivalry, or some loose-fitting code of ethics. Ultimately he saw some hurt behind her eyes. Saw a gorgeous woman stuck on Shaddaa for the wrong reasons, trying to work her way out, and he didn't want to be responsible for ruining her chance. (chance at a life? at happiness?) So he had turned her down. Because the job wasn't for her. It was for someone with nothing left to lose.

But here they were. He sighed deeply, and relaxed into the thin mattress of the bed, letting his eye close, no longer straining against the handcuffs or his situation. Maybe she'd get up and leave while he was talking. Maybe not. Either way, he was resigned to the situation.

I'm a Dust Diver, Vee. You might not've heard the term before. Ain't many of us around. It was something the techs at Czerka came up with a long time before either of us was born. Can't say it's a term that's ill-fitting. It pretty much describes perfectly the job. Basically, I'm a miner. Ore, crystal, precious stones, artifacts. I'm your guy. Thing is, Czerka was a greedy corporation. You want to go drilling on any planet -- someone's going to want a piece of the action. Someone owns the turf. So Czerka went looking where there are no claims to land, no baronies, no Empire.

Asteroids. I mine for precious metals and ores on Asteroids. So you're going to fly into an asteroid field, Vee. And I'm sorry to say, this particular asteroid field is a pretty nasty one. You're going to land on an asteroid, or if it's too small, you're going to drop me off and I'm going to drill for a rather large cache of a certain ore the Hutts want, and then you're going to fly out again, all without being crushed, incinerated, blown up, spaced, depressurized or vaped.

All in a days' work. He opened his eye again, and fixed her with a look that was equal parts 'why-didn't-you-listen-to-me' and 'I'm-sorry-I-got-you-into-this.' So yeah. I didn't take you up on your offer. Maybe I didn't think you spent your weekends flying through asteroid fields. Or maybe I've been doing this long enough to know that a YT-1300 is too damn big to do the job effectively. Or maybe I just didn't want to get you killed.

You still feel like helping out on this is the way to go -- head for the locker. I don't have any credits, but I have something that's worth some. Or leave me here. It's up to you.

 

[Vee]

Vee face dropped and her heart fell at the man's words. She slid her hands down her face in despair at the situation as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as inwardly she cursed. Could she go at an astroid field? Maybe. Old Vee probably could have done an ok job at it, but now? She wasn't certain. But she did know one thing: no matter the decision, they were in big trouble if he didn't have any credits. He needed to get patched up and she would need fuel and food.

Not one to show weakness, Vee stood and looked over the man from the end of the bed. "Well, now we're both screwed, no matter what we do. You're in no shape to get your stuff. If you have something that's worth some creds that can be sold to pay for the medic, then it needs to be done. If you tell me where it is and how to sell it, I'll do it. We'll get you fixed up then figure out what to do."

She held a slender finger up. "If we do this for T'oran, he will always have his thumb on us. Always. It won't just end with this one job. We'll work until he gets tired of us or we lose our value in his eyes...and then, we'll die. You can see why I'm not so eager to take the job. As far as bounty hunters, I don't see us being important enough for him to take the trouble and time. As long as we stay out of this system, we should be ok."

At least, that is what she hoped. He wasn't wrong about Mandalore...there were some mando'ad who might take on a bounty of a sister or brother. And she did have Drika and Todon to think about...if it was some serious creds, they might get them involved. Her body slumped slightly at the thought, betraying an inward struggle. "Just give me the locker info and tell me what I'm looking for." she said quietly.

 

[Galdaart]

"If we do this for T'oran, he will always have his thumb on us. Always. It won't just end with this one job. We'll work until he gets tired of us or we lose our value in his eyes...and then, we'll die. You can see why I'm not so eager to take the job. As far as bounty hunters, I don't see us being important enough for him to take the trouble and time. As long as we stay out of this system, we should be ok."

The fact that she had said 'we' -- as in 'we' stay out of this system, was not lost on Sate, and if he had been in any shape to raise an eyebrow, he would have. Fact was, he was no shape for much of anything, she was right about that.

I'll follow your lead. You wanna run, we can run. You want to do this job, we do the job. As far as my side of things goes, I'll make it as smooth as possible. But just speaking for myself, I have no intention of living my life under Hutt rule. I'll do his job, 'cause it'll save my skin, and I had to do what I had to do in the moment to survive. But after that, I'm finished with the Hutts. I work for myself.

He watched her slump slightly at the prospect of the gig ahead of them, watched an errant strand of red hair fall from behind her ear and across her features, and was renewed in purpose and intent.

The locker is AA-43. I need everything from inside, which really just amounts to a heavy duffel. Bottom of the locker, I popped out two rivets, and stashed a small leather satchel inside 'bout the size of a stun gren. We'll need that, too -- if you want to fuel your ship.

I should come...

 

[Vee]

Vee's eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. Why was he being so suddenly compliant? She shrugged it off. Maybe he finally understood her resistance and the fact she was likely the only one who could help him at this point. After all, he wasn't exactly in the position to do much to help himself. "No." she insisted darkly, pulling her com out of her pant pocket. "I'm going to call the medic to get over here and help patch you up."

She hesitated with the com in mid-air as she eyed the cuffs. "I'll un-cuff you...if you promise to behave." She knew it was a risk, but at this point she trusted that he relied upon her enough to not try to pull anything. Besides, she would have his equipment. Without waiting for an answer, she quickly went to all four sides to un-cuff him. "Don't try anything stupid, you hear?" she demanded. "I'm your only way out of here, you need me more than I need you."

Without waiting for an answer, she stepped away from him and told her com to call "Bernie". A gravelly voice could be heard muffled on the other end. "It's Vee, I need you to get over here. I got a friend who needs patching up." Her blue-green gaze didn't leave the man's form as she spoke. More muffled gravel voice. "I don't know, Bernie, fuck...he got in a fight, ok? I just need it done. Now. I'll make sure you get paid real well. I have this mining gig coming up."

More muffled voice. "Yeah yeah...just get over here. And bring a shit-ton of bacta." Not waiting for a response, she ended the call. "You're lucky he wants to fuck me, or else he wouldn't come over before getting the money." she said casually as she gathered the cuffs and stepped over to a medium-sized bag in the corner. Crouching with her back towards the bed, she stuffed the cuffs inside before riffling through it. "What's your name?" she asked from over her shoulder.

 

[Galdaart]

My name -- what does it matter? I need you more than you need me, remember?

 

[Vee]

Vee grunted in irritation at his response as she found what she was looking for, zipped up the bag, then stood with boots creaking slightly. "I can see you're going to make this fun." she said dryly, motioning with the multitool in her hand to emphasis her point before shoving it in a large, empty bag she pulled out of the other. She gave the bed a wide berth as she walked to the door. "Like I said, don't get any ideas." Her eyes narrowed upon him briefly as she paused at the doorway. "Bernie will be here soon." Then she left.

She would wait for Bernie before going after the mans stash. She waited roughly 30 minutes on the plank until the Zelosian appeared. Admittedly, he was attractive. But a total nerf herder, even if Vee were in the market. He had the traditional flaming emerld eyes all Zelosian's had, with short, black hair that always looked artfully messy. He was a solid 6'0, hardly taller than Vee herself, and his muscled physic betrayed that he wasn't just a medic. And for the life of her, Vee couldn't figure his age.

He whistled at her as he neared, piercing gaze turning lewd. "Well hey there...you sure do clean up nice." his voice rasped with a suggestive smile.

"Yeah, yeah." Vee waved him away impatiently, trying to put as much of an air of disinterest in her body language as possible. "The guy's up in the cabin. Make sure you take good care of him, or else no one is getting paid. Got it?"

Bernie laughed. "All business, eh?" He licked his lips, giving her a slow up-and-down. "You're wound too tight. I don't just provide medical attention, you know?" His smile became sharper.

"Just make sure he's patched up and doesn't leave the ship. I'll be back." Vee barked, ignoring his quip and slinging the bag over her shoulder. She beelined it out of the docking bay, deciding to hoof it to Level 6, Bay 218. She was on Level 4, she didn't think it should take too long to get there using the lifts and jogging.

Locker AA-43. In 15 minutes, she was there. She broke into the locker using the multitool, trying to be as discreet and fast as possible. Thankfully, everything in the locker juuuuuust fit inside the bag. Carefully, she unscrewed the bottom where the man said he had hidden something of value. She carefully pulled out a small, cloth bag, glancing down in it to see if it needed special attention.

She did a double-take.

A gold nugget the size of a large ring rested inside. She shoved as much as herself as she could into the locker, quickly placing the nugget inside her tunic, hiding it in her bosom. It wouldn't do to put it in her bag, just in case it was taken. For indeed, an alien had just walked by her with a funny look. Her job on the locker wasn't exactly perfect. Quickly she hefted the large bag on her shoulder, closed the locker quietly, then jogged to the lift. She hurried the whole way, slightly out of breath by the time she returned to the ship 40 minutes later.

She hurried on board, hoping no one had tailed her. Vee rested the bag carefully in the common area outside the cockpit before rushing to the cabin. "How's it coming?" she asked, cheeks flushed and breathing still a little heavy.

 

[Galdaart]

The handsome man walked into the cabin with a look that said he half-expected to find Sate somewhere else, or in some other condition.

Hm. You're not as badly off as she led me to believe... under his breath she really does need to relax. If she gave me a chance, I'd show her how...

There were no introductions. No small-talk. He prodded Sate none-too-gently, having apparently left his bedside manner at home. Sate winced, but kept his mouth shut. He couldn't expect an on-call mercenary-paid underworld doc to be the most professional, courteous individual between here and the core... and after the treatment he had received, a little prodding was child's play. The assessment lasted only a few minutes, at the end of which the doc listed the particulars:

Five broken ribs. Two cracked. Two broken vertebrae, compression fracture of one more. Complete tear of the radial-collateral and ulnar-collateral ligament of the right arm. Spiral-fractured collarbone, broken orbital bone. Two broken fingers. Shattered patella and torn ligaments to the surrounding tissue. He smiled, a cold, unfeeling gesture that didn't touch his eyes. The lacerations, bruising and tissue loss are a cinch... but the bones, well... he retrieves a device from the bag he's carrying that looks like a cross between a caulking gun, a blaster, and a massive hypodermic needle. depressing the trigger slightly, an orange viscous fluid dribbles from the tip. ...this is gonna hurt you more than it hurts me...

To save the viewer the following scene, the camera withdraws out the cabin door into the hall beyond, settling on a small string of hand-made beads that hangs from a bundle of wiring, swaying slightly in the corridor. Sharp, pained cries and screams puncture the stillness of the scene for several minutes before dying out slowly, like an air-raid siren spooling down.

Sate awoke an undetermined amount of time later, in time to see the doc zipping up his bag, making ready to leave. The handsome man tossed an appraising look over his shoulder at the form lying half-on, half-off the bed. You're a fighter. I'll give you that much. Most don't do that well or last that long without anesthesia. I replaced the missing teeth, but I left the chipped ones. No point in cosmetics.

Sate tongued the new teeth and the irritated gum-line, realizing that he could see with both eyes. Sitting up for the first time in what seemed like days without shattering pain streaking through his body, but only a dull ache, and raising his bandaged hand, he felt the bacta patches covering a good portion of the left side of his face. There were also patches clearly in view on his arms and shoulder. Thanks, doc...

On his way out the door, the Zelosian didn't even bother looking back at Sate, but just tossed out as he left Don't thank me. I'm getting well paid. If I don't I'll send someone to hurt you worse than I found you, karker. Do yourself a favor, take it easy on your knee for a few hours till the plastoid sets. It'll likely never be quite right again, but good enough for the likes of you.

And with that, he was gone. Sate looked around, really taking in Vee's ship for the first time. He still wore the rags he had left T'oran's lair in, but he wasn't overly concerned with that just now. The ship was quiet. Blissfully quiet. He realized that for the first time in days, his head wasn't filled with the sounds of angry men, or the sound of his own blood pumping, or the disjointed reality of drug or injury-induced blackouts and haze. He was in his right mind, and free. Well -- relatively free. He clenched his fists, and felt the pain of the mended, knitting bones and flesh, but it was a good pain, gave him focus.

He looked around the room, looking for a sign that this ship belonged to somebody, relishing the idea that this woman -- no matter how much she seemed to detest him and had essentially sprung the trap that had sent him to his doom -- was also the author of his salvation and possible (and growing more possible by the moment) redemption. He needed to know that Vee was real. That there was more to her than strong words and posturing.

Catching a glimpse of the bag on the floor, a large duffel that he remembered Vee rooting through to retrieve gear, he fought with himself for a moment over the right-and-wrong of the act before giving in and opening the bag. The first thing his hand came in contact with was a small, thin stamping of metal, which he pulled out. A holo. pressing the activation tab, the picture sprang to life from the top of the small metal strip. There she was. Younger. Happy. Some sort of rocky planetoid was the scene. Wind in her red hair. A boy beside her, standing close. They were obviously a couple. He looked for a few seconds, seeing the life in her eyes. He zoomed in, making her eyes larger-than-life sized.

And then he heard, from the hangar, footfalls coming up the ramp, and her voice echoing throughout the ship:

"How's it coming?"

Sate stuffed the holo back into her bag, and sat back down on the bunk momentarily. His heart raced.


Why was his heart racing?

 

[Vee]

As Vee rounded the corner towards the cabin, Bernie stepped right in front of her. "Hello, lovely." he said charmingly. The redhead jumped back in surprise.

"Fuck, Bernie...what're you doing stalking around?" She quickly back peddled away from the Zelosian, his otherworldly green gaze making her uncomfortable. She cleared her throat, trying to settle back into her tough facade. "Shouldn't you be tending to your patient?" Her hand slowly found the blaster on her right hip and rested there.

His vivid eyes followed her hands path, a sudden loud, genuine laugh erupting from his lips. "Damn, Vee...I like my women willing." He offered a suggestive, cold smile as he crossed his arms and leaned sideways against the metal wall, effectively blocking her path to the cabin. "You know, I don't have to be paid in credits..."

Vee swallowed, something in his posture hauntingly reminiscent of Don. She mentally shook herself. "Good to know...because I have some gold I'd like you to buy. You can subtract your fee from the total." Her voice sounded stronger than she felt.

Bernie cocked an eyebrow. "That so? And what if I don't want gold?"

Vee shrugged, hoping it looked nonchalant. "Then I can always kill you and be on my way. I'm getting tired of Shaddaa anyway."

Bernie's face sobered quickly, his eyes darkening as their gazes locked for several tense heartbeats. "Show me." he demanded, all attempted charm completely gone, replaced with his natural, chilly, sinister exterior.

Vee's grip tightened on her blaster while her left hand carefully reached inside her tunic and pulled out the nugget from between her breasts. Bernie's gaze didn't even unfocus from her eyes like she thought it might. She produced the nugget in front of her, but kept it close.

"Three grand." Bernie said without emotion, eyes still unflinching. It was becoming uncomfortable.

"Six grand." Vee countered sharply. "It's easily worth eight."

Bernie chuckled darkly. There was no humor in it. "Except you threatened to kill me. I'll take the extra off for the insult." Suddenly, he was on her. Her finger pulled the trigger, but he was so fast, she hadn't been able to aim her blaster correctly. The stun beam bounced off one of the walls uselessly, her blaster and the nugget clattered to the floor as he punched her solidly in the stomach, taking her breath away completely and bringing her to her knees.

"Four grand." he amended, tone and demeanor not changing despite his assault as he stepped away from Vee's keeled-over form. He carefully picked up the nugget, tossed it lightly into the air before shoving it in his pocket. He knelt down in front of her, his hand fisting into the hair on the back of her head and using it to pull her head up to look at him. "Don't threaten me again, queen." he ordered calmly, before spitting on her face then forcefully throwing her head to the deck.

Vee laid motionless as she heard him pick up his medic bag and his footsteps indicated he was leaving. Slowly, she pulled herself up, wincing in pain and still trying to catch her breath. Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes and she angrily brushed them away, along with Bernie's saliva. Murder in her heart, instead of letting him leave, she picked up her blaster, took it off stun, and followed the Zelosian out.

He was already a few feet clear of the ship, gazing down at his com, only glancing over his shoulder briefly in response to hearing Vees boots against the metal ramp. As soon as Vee was in sight of him, she aimed, fired and didn't stop. He cursed, then dropped his medic bag and com before pulling out his own firearm and firing back. Strangely emboldened, Vee calmly continued to walk closer to him without ceasing fire. Finally, a bolt snagged his leg and he went down before another caught his shoulder, knocking his slug from his hand. His eyes were wild with anger as she rounded on him, staring down at him as he had her.

"Didn't anyone tell you not to fuck with mandos?" she asked, the strange calm still controlling her. Before he could answer, she shot him in the head. It fell with a sick thud. There was shouting and movement from the entrance to the bay in the wake of their firefight, but Vee paid it no mind. She snagged the nugget out of Bernie's pocket, picked up his com and medic bag, then paced back to her ship where she dropped the bag next to the mans, then promptly went to the cockpit.

She closed the ramp just as security was racing to the bay, efficiently prepping the ship for take off after setting the nugget and Bernie's com link to the side. Within a minute, the Tracyn was slowly spinning in the air as they took blaster fire from below. Vee paid them no attention. Another minute and they had cleared the port and we're heading for space. She set the coordinates: Basilisk.