He was not here to rescue anybody. He was here to get paid.
Tyger Tyger shed no tears for a Sithgirl who played games of Intergalactic Espionage and got locked-up for her contrivance. No more than she deserved, really, than to disintegrate in a cell as a nobody; her father’s worst nightmare (and just desserts) to watch his name wash away in a single generation with as much thought as any sandcastle or McDonald’s. However, Darrell Irani, with is unique connections to the First Order, was able to organize use of the regional bounty hunter for a handsome fee. So, for now, Tyger Tyger
could pretend to care.
Using the
Far Star's unique intelligence package, Tyger Tyger was able to gain an stealthy entry, as well as a secure position to jump in to his target destination without setting off any anti-air precautionary measures.
The cargo door fell open, exposing the interior of the Far Star to Mandalore’s of the more extreme climates. Though the flurry whipped and cast about below, the ship soared over this perspiration; by all accounts and thermodynamics, at the warmest spot it could be. Still,
the cold crept in, and it clung to his bones despite the layer of thermals he had added under his typical armor. Despite the goggles and the bandana covering his face.
This was fine. The crispness sharpened perception.
It would keep Tyger Tyger awake and alert for what was to come.
Leia wandered into the open bay, immediately hit by the shock of the elements - How the once-familiar metal floor, now a thief, stealing her body heat from out the bottoms of her bare feet; how her long-missing arm suddenly ached from nowhere at the end of her poor vestigial stub. She took a seat away from the door, wrapping into herself and her clothing to bundle up, wanting to see Tyger Tyger off in the face of the clear discomfort.
He tried not to look at her. Something about throwing oneself out of a spacecraft made one reconsider the virtues of a road less traveled by. Milo held onto the “Oh-poodoo” cord and leaned out, looking down at the clouds obscuring the earth so far below.
Should’ve been a goddamn banker.
“You are not exactly in good company, here, Tyger,” Watcher-Four reminded, having remotely hijacked the intercom.
“Yeah, I saw ‘em,” Tyger Tyger called back, somehow managing to mumble despite having to shout over the engines, the turbulence.
“It would be wise to act as though you will not be receiving support, because, if I were a betting man…”
“Never was much a team player anyway.”
This was a lie, and he knew it, immediately remembering the glory days with [member="Akk Akk"] during this whole bounty hunter shtick. Then there was Leia. And there had always been Watcher-Four, and the ghost of the old Tyger Tyger that haunted by way of golden caligraphy scribbled along the starship's walls.
He was never alone. Not really.
Milo took some time to recheck the setting on his
Sky Hog Jetpack’s control panel – The system prepared to give him short little boosts as he fell: First to ensure his trajectory and his covert entry into the designated landing zone, Second to slow his descent to landable speeds. While he lacked the aptitude to double-check the math of Watcher-Four’s analysts on the fly, he could at least be confident that the settings were, indeed, in place.
“You got the dossiers on the two high-rollers?,” Milo looked back finally, talking to the intercom. He was speaking of two Mandalorians who had shot their mouth off on the bounty board, throwing around vast sums of credits for the teeth and holorecorded punches of Ali Hadrix.
Extra points.
“One [member="Funky Balor"]. [member="Ijaat Mereel"], by all accounts, is currently dead.”
“Heh. ‘Currently,’” Milo reframed, cynically.
“Currently,” Watcher-Four echoed in snark.
“The universe is karking stupid.”
The three hovered in silence for a moment, listening to rumble just outside their little home. Milo whooped his arms about in a pre-emptive stretch, hopping in place like a boxer to get his pulse going, to get his adrenaline up.
Eventually, however, enough was enough.
“So, are you waiting for the door hydraulics to freeze, or…?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Milo turned around, finally looking at Leia. He smiled, though it was hidden under his bandana.
“You be good.”
She smiled back and waved.
And with that, Tyger Tyger turned and threw himself out the cargo door, diving at the planet like a shooting star.
Leia stood up and walked toward the edge, looking down at her friend and foster father, already too far to be seen. With the roar of folding metal and crushed garbage, the cargo doors came up, sealing her within. In but a blink, the Far Star disappeared out of the planet's atmosphere and into hyperspace.
