Private Shadows over Corellia

[Jason Darklighter]

"They what now?"

Who the hells puts a bounty on their own family?

Maybe it was the 'don't hurt them, unharmed' kind, but bounty hunters weren't exactly known for being the most discriminating and gentle handed types.

"Me?" he pointed at his chest, then his lips firmed together as he thought. He rubbed at his left pectoral, massaging the sore muscle as he thought. "We never really saw eye to eye. They moved off Corellia years ago. Back to Kiffar."

Jason shook his head.

"Putting the old man and I in the same room is asking for trouble. Two reeks in a Chandrilan pottery shop."

The Kiffar private eye looked back at Solara, but found her pale eyes on him, full of mischief.

Karking unfair.

She definitely could not handle her liquor though, that was for sure. No more for her.

"But he didn't put a bounty on me. Must have been hard. Going from a family like that to trying to survive on the streets. Keeping your head down."

A survivor.

Solara Gale

 

[Solara Gale]

Her smirk sobered into something more serious as he spoke about his relationship with his father. Just went to say everyone had something. Absently, she reached her hand across the table and give his own a light squeeze. Saying sorry fell flat for her and didn’t seem to fit. Just a squeeze: I’m here. I’m listening.

“Sounds rough, Jason.”

Hand withdrew but didn’t go far. The booze kept her tongue moving. “I mean, yeah. I had a charmed life.” Eyes fell to her fingers as they absently brushed at nothing on the table. “Dad was high up in politics. Mom a trade queen. They had high expectations.”

A roll of one shoulder. Still looking down at that table. “I can’t imagine what they felt when they heard the Jedi wanted to arrest me.”

Those grayish-blues finally lifted. Hand lifted, tugging her hair free from the binding. “And yeah, those first few weeks without mommy and daddy’s credchit were hard.” A self deprecating smile. Then a shiver beneath all that bravado. Some things she didn’t want to remember or speak about. “Being a detective something you always wanted to do?”

 

[Jason Darklighter]

Jason shrugged, "Seemed like I was born to, you know? Definitely helped with the cop part. Getting into P.I. work after was just the natural fit."

He held up his psychometric fingers and wiggled them while he chewed on a hunk of steak, then shrugged and swallowed.

"Politician and a trade queen huh," He let out a low whistle, "I'll bet that's a whole bundle of expectations."

Brows pinching together as he thought for a moment, chewing another bite, he shook his head. "Bet they'd be proud though. If they really knew what you were doing."

He grunted and leaned back in his seat.

"They would."

Solara Gale

 

[Solara Gale]

"Proud or horrified," she huffed. Smirk on her lips wobbled as she tried wearing bravado over vulnerability. Then she found herself just starting at Jason. Letting herself get an unabashed look at those tattoos across his face. Even as her eyelids were getting heavier and heavier. That nerfsteak was sitting in her stomach all cozy like. With the alcohol, too. And all that running from the sith and interrupted sleep from the night before were finally catching up to her.

"Tell me about your tattoos. Do they stand for anything? Did it hurt?"

Another yawn as her head sunk more heavily on the hand that still propped it up. Eyes were slowly closing into slits. Which was a testament to anyone if she felt safe enough to fall asleep so easily. Something she hadn't experienced in a very long time.

 

[Jason Darklighter]

"Oh, the qukuuf?" he touched absently at his cheek, where the thick red bar crossed his face in a perfectly horizontal line. "Don't remember. It's a kiffar tradition. I was just a kid. I uh-"

Was she about to pass out on him? That was a definite yes.

"I'll tell you more about it in the morning." He stood. "C'mon, bedtime for Sleepy."

He patted her on the shoulder.

"Your cabin is over here," Jason pointed it out, "Let me know if I forgot anything, toiletries and shit. Probably have more in storage."

Jerking his head toward the opposite pylon of the ship's superstructure he continued, "That's me. You uh need anything just knock. Don't worry about all this, I'll clean up."

Solara Gale

 

[Solara Gale]

She almost feel asleep right there. Head propped on her open palm. Eyes snapped open at his pat on her shoulder. A breathy chuckle. At least he hasn’t gone all catatonic on her. Arms stretched over her head.

“I’m up,” another yawn went through her. She didn’t argue about him cleaning up. Eventually she’d learn where everything was and pay it forward. At least he had extra quarters. Sharing would’ve been…awkward. And tight.

Miracles upon miracles, she stumbled just fine to her new room. Imagine that? Hers. She was almost too scared to believe in it. Sol paused in the doorway but didn’t turn around. “Thanks Darklighter, for everything.”

________________________________

Nar Shaddaa never really slept. The streets beneath the towering skyline were a maze of flickering neon signs, steaming vents, and crowded walkways packed with smugglers, mercenaries, gamblers, and creatures from half the galaxy. The air smelled of hot circuitry, spilled drinks, engine exhaust, and spice.

They pushed through the crowd beneath towering holographic advertisements, neon glow encasing them like a lingering fog that wouldn’t go away. Somewhere above them, speeders screamed between buildings, while below, dealers whispered offers from shadowed doorways. This whole planet was a red light district.

Sol’s head was on a swivel. Emotions from others bombarded her senses as if a thousand needles wanted to drive into her. She paused beneath a violet glowing sign.

THE BLACK HALO.

The club occupied three levels of an old industrial tower, its entrance guarded by two massive Nikto who looked like they had never heard the word mercy. Music thudded through the walls, heavy enough to vibrate through the pavement.

"That's where we're meeting your contact?”Sol asked Jason. Then made a face. “Wait, did you say they were zeltron?”

 

[Jason Darklighter]

"Nah, just their employer," Jason held a lit deathstick in his hand. He'd said he'd quit, but then he'd also said he would change careers too.

Yet here he was.

Jason took a last drag on it then ashed it out on the nearby wastebin and disposed of it like a normal person, ignoring the fact that the ground all around the can was littered with used stubs. Didn't matter that he was the only one obeyin' the law. Just mattered that he himself did it. Can't control the actions of everyone else, he told himself.

Flashing his credentials to the pair of Nikto long enough for them to grunt in annoyance and wave them through, Jason started up into the club with Solara. They'd had to change on his ship so they didn't look like a pair of vagrants, but Jason did not exactly have a wide variety of female attire so they'd had to make do. He himself wore a simple trenchcoat with a dark henley beneath and slacks, with sensible boots.

It did not scream 'clubbing' but it really didn't matter. Nobody on Nar Shaddaa looked too hard at you, because they did not want you looking back either. Everyone was just here for a good time, not for a long time.

"Contact is a Mirialan. Green, not pink. Why?" Jason frowned at her, "Something against Zeltrons?"

They entered the club and Jason took the staircase to the right, away from the crowded dance floor, toward an upper level where their Mirialan friend would be waiting.

And sure enough, there she was.

"Zanna," Jason nodded to the athletic Mirialan woman rising from a couch. She wore an absurdly tight gold dress that did nothing to hide her figure. She raised a dark, viridian eyebrow.

"That any way to greet an old friend, Darklighter?"

He didn't smile. "Uh huh."

"Oh that's right, we were a little more than that weren't we. Before you left on the Dantooine job."

"That was a long time ago, Zanna."

"Who is this," emerald eyes looked Solara up and down, judgment evident, "Ragamuffin?"

"Solara. She's my assistant investigator. We're partners."

Zanna let out a haughty laugh. "Sure you are. Well. Sit down, both of you."

Solara Gale

 

[Solara Gale]

“Uh, don't look at me like that. I’m not racist. Dunno if it’s because I’m an empath but me and zeltrons don't turn out well. If they want me to feel or do something my resistance is pretty crap.”

Good thing for a partner to know.

As they walked in the club, she couldn’t help her eyes travel to the large windows of a second floor club across the street. Movement catching her attention. Whoa. Had a blonde chick just smashed a zeltron’s face with her fist?

Go girl.

Fingers came up to adjust her top as she followed Jason in the club. It was a dark green outfit. Sleeveless shirt that tied around her back. Front ended just above her naval and heart shaped top with long flowy pants in the same color. A classy outfit she’d been surprised to find on his ship. Along with the strappy flats that were a tiny bit too small.

Definitely an old fling.

Or…maybe it was current?

Unlike the Miralian before them. Sol winced, waves of anger and jealousy hitting her. A sideways glance to Jason

Way to go, Darklighter.

Sol plopped down in the middle of a dark blue couch. “Nice dress,” she told Zana. And meant it. Oof. That got her a glare of ire.

Aaaaaaanywaaaaays.

Sol crossed her legs. “So, I heard you might have a few jobs for us?” Fingers drummed absently on her thigh. Could really use a drink right now but bossman said no.