Over Her Head

[Malia Afredane]

Rusty was off doing his thing on Dressel. This left her free to take a couple meetings she had been dodging. Ones that she was sure Izzy wasn't going to agree with. Her mother had always told her that her father was a worker from the factory, a honest kinda guy who came into the Lazy Riveter to just blow off steam after a shift. Nevermind the fact that Izzy would never even tell her the guy's name. Afredane was Izzy's name, and to Mal's knowledge, Izzy was from Balmorra.

Imagine her surprise when she was contacted by her father years later.

When she was bounced out of the Navy, her court martial had been on Corellia back before the Sith had come in and taken over, and her name and deeds had crossed her father's desk.

He was not a factory worker. He had never been to Balmorra. There was virtually nothing Izzy told her that was true. Mal was conceived on Corellia. Izzy, or Azaelia as she was named, had the misfortune of falling for the son of a crime lord, who was marrying the daughter of a rival family in order to ease tensions between both families and solidify the power base in Coronet City. He broke it off with her, sending her away to Balmorra to satisfy his family's demands of severing ties with her.

Except he didn't know she was pregnant.

Surprise.

Afredane's was the bistro where her parents used to meet.

This just kept getting better.

Their first meeting had been awkward. Their second hadn't been much better.

Third times a charm?

She hoped so. She looked out of her hotel balcony at the city below. She never liked Coronet. It tried too hard to be pretty and clean and Coruscant, but it was just as dirty as Nar Shaddaa. It had nothing to do with One Sith occupation. It was just a wretched place.

Her father, Lars had asked her to come, to meet with him at his office, and to dress accordingly. Apparently, the last time she came, he was not amused by her attire. She was a spacer. She shrugged it off and bought a suit. She even bought heels. Closed toe, conservative heel, something that said business. If it was anyone else in the 'verse, she might have told them where to stick their fashion sense.

She was curious though about what he had to say.

 

[Malia Afredane]

Opulent would have been understating the offices she was escorted through, although a lot of what she was seeing oozed old money. Nothing garish, nothing gaudy; just elegance and art pieces that she was certain cost more than Gracie, her year's profits and half a Hutt's palace. It was flexing muscles to rich people and by the way the staff were treating her, she didn't like it. She wan't wearing her guns, but it didn't take much to look at her in that suit and know she despised being in it. This was not her world.

She was lead through a set of heavy wooden doors, with a golden plaque engraved with his name, and she could see the apprehension in her eyes reflected in the mirror polish. Her father stood from behind his desk when the bodyguard entered in front of her. He looked happy to see her, or perhaps just happy that she wasn't wearing dusty clothes and a long leather overcoat.

"Malia, you look lovely."

Yup, it's the clothes. He sounded old, older than when last they spoke. There was a husky quality to his voice that skirted the edge of being emotional. She walked across the plush carpet, trying to remember how to walk in heels, so that she didn't trip herself. It was more difficult than she recalled. He didn't make a move for her but motioned for her to have a seat in one of the chairs opposite him.

"Thank you, sir. What can I do for you?" She figured it was best to stick to business. He took his seat and nodded at the bodyguard, who excused himself and closed the doors behind him.

"So formal? I had hoped we could talk. I could hear about your mother."

A tug of a smile threatened the corners of her mouth before she folded her hands in her lap.

"No, I don't discuss my family. You called me to your office in a suit. That's business. If you wished a social call, you would have brought me to the house. However, I have a sneaking suspicion that I am still your dirty secret, so that's out of the question."

She might not have been wearing the duster, but she was still captain of the Wicked Grace. She was still the woman in charge of her own fate. And he was just another guy. The point about the social call darkened his face though, a furrowed brow casting shadows over his eyes. He seemed to be measuring his words carefully.

"Circumstances have changed with respect to my business holdings. There is an opening for you in my organization. You will give up your vagabond lifestyle and move to Coronet City."

Intense silence stretched out between them for a full minute, Malia staring at his face. He meant every word. Kriff that.

"No."

He looked at her astonished.

"What did you say to me?"

"Apparently something you don't hear often. Was there anything else or are we done here?"

"This is not a request, nor a joke, Malia."

"The name's Mal and do I look like I'm laughing?"

"Fine then, have it your way. I will require your services as an arms dealer."

"No."

"I am willing to let you name your price."

"Can't afford it."

"You haven't tried me."

"I'm not for sale." Silence again but this time, she rose from her chair. ""It's been a pleasure, sir but I must be going."

He sputtered at her but when she subdued the bodyguard and then casually stepped over him on her way out, Lars let her go. This wasn't the way to get her to come into him. He would need to press on her vulnerable spot. He pressed a couple buttons on his comlink, sending a message out to every underworld contact he had.

"New bounty listing. Izzy Afredane. Balmorra. 500,000 creds, payable on delivery of live capture only."

 

[Rusty]

Dressel

"[Bleep]. [BLEEP] [BLEEP]ING [BLEEP] OF A [BLEEP]!"

It had been years since Rusty had collected a bounty. Decades, even. Still, he kept up with the various bounty boards. They were far more reliable than most holonews services, especially if you knew how to read them. Rusty made a habit of doing so every morning before opening the shop.

Per his agreement with the Captain, he spent one month out of every six on Dressel with the shop. This was that one month, and business was booming. Which is why the name that scrolled across the datapad was especially infuriating. He'd have to back out of a project and loose untold thousands of credits in the process, as well as the credits he'd lose not being in the shop.

To the casual observer, it would sound a bit like someone speaking in Morse code as the Shard gathered his things and got ready to hightail it to Balmorra.

The datapad still sat on the counter, with a single name on the screen: Izzy Afredane.

The Captain's mother.

 

[Malia Afredane]

Izzy was where she always was this time of day. Sitting behind the bar, eating a plate of something horribly bad for you and doing the crossword. She had a slugthrower sitting in her lap. She had noticed that there had been a couple shady looking jerks in the place lately and she'd made a point of packing everywhere she went, just in case.

She heard someone enter the bar, and looked up to see who it was. It was lunch time around here, and there weren't a whole of people apart from some of her regulars, sitting around watching a match on the holovids and drinking a beer on their lunch breaks.

Her fingers curled around the grip, trying to get a read on who was coming through the dimly lit room.

 

[Rusty]

Three potentials.

Rusty counted three potential bounty hunters in the bar.

[Bleep].

There was only one option.

The Shard and Izzy didn't really get along. She thought her daughter gallivanting around the galaxy with a robot was the number one thing getting in the way of grandchildren. She knew better than to expect Mal to settled down and get married, but was it too much to ask for a little bundle of joy?

It wasn't exactly realistic. A freighter captain could hardly be expected to make time for kids, and it wasn't like Izzy would want to raise the snot-nosed brat. Rusty didn't think she was entirely rational on the matter, which certainly didn't make Izzy more inclined to like him.

Which is why walking into the bar and greeting her like an old friend was definitely going to set off some alarm bells.

The Shard strode through the door like he owned the place and plopped down at the bar. The stool groaned under the sudden weight of his armored frame.

"Hey, Izzy!" he said, voice gratingly loud and cheerful. "Long time no see."

 

[Malia Afredane]

She stared at the Shard, looked behind him to see if Malia was with him, then back to his face. She leaned in real close, her face anger and her eyes squinty.

"What do you want?" She grumbled at him, certain now that her instincts were correct in that this day couldn't get worse.

"Where's Malia?"

 

[Rusty]

"Oh, she's off visiting her dad," Rusty said, knowing full well that Izzy didn't that Mal knew. "She sent me by to check up on you."

As the saying goes, there are lies, [bleep] lies, and statistics. That was in the second category, and they both knew it. The Captain would never send Rusty in her stead unless it was an emergency of epic proportions. The three thugs checking their blasters underneath their jackets counted.

"How about we go somewhere quiet to talk?"

 

[Malia Afredane]

So there was something hairy going on. She didn't like Rusty but Malia trusted him with her life so she stood up slowly, nodding.

"Fine, here come on back to the kitchen."

She moved normally, she didn't want to tip the idiots across the room that she was on to them but she'd seen people try to collect a bounty in her bar before. Let the robot worry about it, she figured. The hand cannon felt heavy in her hand as she leaned on the counter, just inside the kitchen, shaking her head.

"What in the hells has Malia gotten into now?"

Izzy of course would never assume that she herself had done anything wrong.

 

[Rusty]

"No clue, Izzy. All I know is someone took a bounty out on you for a half a mil. I don't know who you ticked off, but they don't seem like the forgiving sort.

Judging by the sounds from the front room, the bounty hunters had cleared out the guests. Rusty picked up the whine of a couple of blasters being charged, and something that sounded like a stun baton.

"The bounty calls for you alive, which is something, I guess, but these guys seem like the sort to view alive as a technicality."

 

[Malia Afredane]

Izzy was swearing up a storm by the time they got back to the spaceport and onto the Wicked Grace. Her bar was damn near destroyed in the ensuing firefight and she had to be hoisted over Rusty's shoulder and carried onboard the ship. They made several wild jumps to evade any pursuers, but Rusty made it clear to her that their next stop was to pick up Mal.

It was early morning in Theed when the Grace landed in the spaceport and Mal strode up the ramp of her ship, a fine sheen of anger plastered across her face. The brief explanation she had gotten from Rusty when he called her a half an hour beforehand had cemented her foul mood in for the long haul. It was her turn to get a call she couldn't explain and have to run out on plans with Kairon. Something her mother was keen to question her on, after the two hour long argument on the way to Empress Teta about Mal's real father.

By the time they landed in Cinnagar, they had the plan worked out. Izzy's secrets were all laid bare and Mal knew now that what the lowlife jerk had told her was true. Great. Rusty called in the bounty and agreed to the meeting place by the docks. Even better.

The handoff went smooth, money hit the accounts, bounty satisfied and everything was shiny until Izzy started screaming at Lars for having her kidnapped. She was like a woman unhinged, cussing him out for destroying her bar. Lars motioned for a body guard to get a grip on her, then his kneecap exploded in a shower of blood and bone fragments. Mal stepped out from the shadows, while Rusty took out the guards. Izzy screamed but Mal seemed completely focused on the man wailing in pain on the floor. She knelt by him, a few quiet words shared with him while he writhed and begged. She nodded and slapped him on the injured leg as she stood.

"Good talk, dad." Her tone was all sarcasm and hate as she walked away, leaving him in a puddle of blood.

Within a day, double the bounty had been wired to Mal, who used it to redo Izzy's bar and hire her some decent security. The rest as it would turn out was just the money they needed to buy that fancy new ship they had been looking at. Now, all Mal had to do was make it up to Kairon. At least she knew he was running things for the Alliance right now. They just had to track him down.