Subterranean Homesick Blues

[Tyger Tyger]

The Wheel​

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Forget all the crap about the decadence, the big words for luxury and aimlessness and sin. It’s a casino. You gamble there. Sometimes there’s prostitutes and pretty girls, sometimes they actually want your money and your attention. And sometimes, between the alcohol and the easy money and the promise of sex, it’s so good, you might even believe you’ve found what you came looking for out here among the stars.

But you haven’t. It’s a lie they sell, and a lie you perpetuate, because you don’t want to pretend you’re missing out.

The Wheel turns. Ascend, or get rolled over for infinity.

There’s nothing romantic about any of this.

Tyger Tyger wound up here the same way he wound up anywhere. He drifted until he got caught in its orbit. Sometimes, he and Leia couldn’t stand the sight of the ship anymore and needed to get out and move around. Sometimes, they only needed a little cash, and plotting a full-scale murder or kidnapping was on the wrong side of the work/rewards ratio.

He had attempted to leave Leia at the daycare area, but he was none-too-surprised when it didn’t take. She insisted on following him, tugging at the bottom of his shirt from where it extended just below his armor. He bade her “Then keep close,” but he knew he didn’t have to.

The pazaak money came quick – many of the gamblers caving under Tyger Tyger’s vigilance. He didn’t bluff ever, and that was a quick foil to the thieves and smugglers and those who prided themselves on their roguishness – They couldn’t fathom an honest man, and chased deceit when there wasn’t any. He would come to mix it up, however, moving to games of chance, to roulette. An exploratory wager placed on 7 – psychologically satisfying, number of God.

Success.

That was when he first saw her, mostly because she caught him eying him first. She was Rattataki – low-cut, red dress, pendant necklace plunging into generous cleavage that, if he traced down with his eye, made his knees weak. She smiled at him, and he did his best to hide his grin, placing additional chips down on “Red.”

Red 15.

She was headed his way now, and he watched in his peripherals, periodically trying to appear more casual by looking reassuringly over to Leia. Suddenly, he felt breasts push against his bag, and the Rattataki’s warm breath against his ear. She was leaning across him from behind, moving one of his chips onto the 4.

“Better double-down, tiger.”

Milo grinned, turning to meet her, but she was already on her way out; deftly disappearing into the crowd. There was a tug at his shirt.

Looking down at Leia, she was holding for him a small holopad, presenting limited data– an object apparently slipped to her while he was distracted.

It bore an image of Katya Shorn, as a note. It read:

Tyger Tyger,

A bounty has been placed on one Katya Shorn – the terrorist responsible for the attempted abduction of the First Order’s Moff Natasi Fortan. The client is a man by the name of Khaden Dhargola, and he’s made the unusual request of doing the job with you. He’s former Fringe Military, ex-Helldiver, and his unique qualifications have made him confident that, provided you could track and deliver him to Miss Shorn, he could enact on his own revenge. He’s paying well –

Milo noted that, curiously, there was no payment listing anywhere.

– and that’s what matters. Chatter in the Guild recommends you begin your search in the Kathol Outback. In the mean time, Mr. Dargola is already awaiting you aboard your ship.

Happy Hunting, Tyger Tyger​

​

P.S. – Always bet on Four.​

Ah, of course.

The device proceeded to malfunction, powering down in a destructive way that, while by no means hazardous to the environment, was still quite clear it had no intention of activating ever again. This message will now self-destruct. Milo sighed, recognizing the contract for what it was: Bantha poodoo.

It was actually a tasking.

“Black 4!,” shouted the dealer before quadrupling Milo’s single chip. A missed opportunity. Oh well. Milo collected his money, stood from the table, and made his way to the money changer, his free hand falling idly to coax Leia along with a stroke to the back of her head.

The Wheel turns.

The Far Star​

The “What’s that noise? Is someone there, or is it just the house?” commotion precipitated their return, the lowering of the entry ramp and its hissing hydraulics finally giving cause to the sounds heard just beyond the ship. Leia’s shoes clinked softly against the metal floors, quick, staccato patterns as she often felt obliged to run for no reason, moving in the general direction of away from the living area in which [member="Itaska Relens"] presumably waited. The second set of soles clinked much more soundly, their pace slower, but generally more deliberate.

It moved away at first, stopped, then came closer, until finally Milo was standing in the doorway from the cargo bay – free of his armor, and pulling his fingerless gloves more securely toward his wrist.

“Khaden Dhargola?,” he asked in a way that wasn’t a question, his influence on the name almost sardonic. Like you could almost hear the finger quotes. It was clear he knew it was a fake.

 

[Arage Bao]

It ain't like putting on a new pair of boots.

Ain't. Ain't. Ain't--- Naw, he wasn't from Annaj, not the familiar drawl of misty mountains swampy marshes turned into capital to the outcasts and lords of the sith. He was... he was from Bakura. The word was rolled around in his mouth, one direction to the other, the taste felt good. Felt right. Bakura it was.

The world of Governor Sargon.

It ain't like putting on a new pair of boots. Yeah, that was it. But that's the problem, innit? It was exactly like putting on tha' new pair of boots on a cold, cold morning. When your eyes were dried out, the coffee wasn't burning out your headache and the boots weren't worn in it yet. You had to wear 'em around the house. Get a feel for 'em. Let your feet push against the textile, until it gave just a fraction and there was freedom of movement. It was exactly like putting on a new pair of boots.

He stretched.
He felt old.
It would pass.

"Aye," One Khaden Dhargola responded without checking [member="Tyger Tyger"] out. His attention was on his boots, good boots, worn boots, that was the sign of a man who knew his role by now. Who fit right into it, who had learned to walk the talk and talk the walk.

"Tyger Tyger."

 

[Tyger Tyger]

Milo arched a brow as the passenger’s eyes never made contact. They were fixed, instead, upon Milo’s jump boots; awkward, like a little boy lying to his mother.
“Yeah…,” Milo acknowledged his name, juggling this new information and moving into segue.

No skin off his back. Whether [member="Itaska Relens"] was able to pass or not, Tyger Tyger, the bounty hunter, had plausible deniability – So long as the contract was valid. He would investigate in a moment, he decided.

“…We’re going to Kal’Shebbol. Heavily transient population; traders, hunters, drifters --- in and out of there all the time. Shake a few trees, see what falls out.”
Milo suddenly decided he couldn’t deal with it anymore. He clapped his hands abruptly, drawing Itaska’s attention to his face, his eyes. “Stop that. You look weird.”

Tyger’s gaze was more intense now, focusing on maintaining Itaska’s eyeline. “It’s a day’s ride out. There’s spare quarters, if you need it.” Milo cracked his knuckles, his posture transitioning to prepare for movement. “Hope you brought protein supplements. We eat vegetarian here.”

He lingered briefly, but it really was not enough to engage him in conversation before he had disappeared to the cockpit.

After a few moments, a little girl wandered into the main living area, apparently having recently abandoned her shoes, as the soft little clinks were now the slapping of bare feet. She paid little mind to Itaska as she passed through to the cockpit, her stump arm cradled in the hand of the one that remained.

Leia would find Tyger Tyger in the pilot’s scene, his finger guiding the Galaxy Map to the decided starport. She looked up at it and waited, but never for long. The bounty hunter looked over his shoulder at her, knowing what she wanted. “Kal’Shebbol,” he restated for the little one. She smiled.

“You like that one.”

Seconds later, she would return from the cockpit, skipping over to the record machine that was set upon a fireplace-less mantle, once more granting Itaska a second glance. She unsleaved a record and gingerly laid it upon the turntable, very quietly humming an accompaniment to the guitar that would eventually enter the room.

♫I’m going down to Rose Marie’s; she never does me wrong.​

​

She puts it to me…Plain as day… She gives it to me for a song.♫

The Far Star began to lift from the docking bay, pressure building as it was gripped by the suction into space and jettisoned out in the general direction of travel. Milo guided it as best he could, and because of his efforts, the departure was relatively seamless.

♫It’s a wicked life…but what the Hell…​

You know everybody’s…got to eat.♫

On the nearby holopanel, he had pulled up the feed from the Bounty Hunter’s Guild, doing a quick confirmation. There had, indeed, been a bounty posted for Katya Shorn. Its poster was Khaden Dhargola – an account at least 20 months old with one other prior bounty; First Order had done its due diligence in creating the cover.

♫And I’m just the same as anyone else…​

when it comes to…
scratchin’…for my meat.♫

He steered along the hyperlanes before slipping into hyperspace, hurling the trio toward the Kathol Outback.

♫I’m going to Kaallll’ Shebbol-ollll♫​

Milo hummed along.

"♫Goin’ on the run.♫"​

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[member="Ajira Cardei"]