Trouble Doesn't Always Knock

[Qyren Leret]

"Qyrenl'eret?"

The dark purple Twi'lek turned slowly at the address, ripping her eyes away from the rippling colors of the setting sun. Her mother stood in the doorway of their modest home, studying her.

"You are gathering weeds," she commented, referring to her daughter's absentminded distraction. "Dinner will be soon."

"I'll be in to help," Qyren agreed. "The sunset is just beautiful tonight. I'd like to watch a little longer."

Her mother paused, considering her, then nodded and smiled. "Very well. But come in soon."

"Yes, mother." Qyren watched her mother retreat before she let her settle the short distance into guarded contemplation and turned to face the sun again. It was beautiful, vibrant and slowly fading from one glorious set of hues to the next, but the beauty of it wasn't all that had distracted Qyren. She was trying to drive away the heaviness that had settled over her around mid-afternoon, a pall over her otherwise normal mood that had no explanation Qyren could discern. Certainly, Ashara'lynnic had again tried to coax her into a courting ritual, but Qyren had handled that in the usual way and avoided upsetting him; he seemed to have accepted that, for every time he asked, she would have a rebuttal. He was one of the less aggressive suitors; Qyren liked him well enough, but she had no romantic inclinations toward him or any of the other men in her village.

Qyren ran her tongue over her lower lip, staring beyond the colors of the sunset and into herself. If it was so, then why did she feel like she should be looking over her shoulder?

[member="Rook"]

 

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...and sometimes it knocked the door down.

A colony of Twi'leks was the kind of place Rook was going to have trouble. On most of the more populated worlds blending in was easy. Sure, he had to ditch his armor from time to time, but the anonymity made up for it. He hadn't been killed yet, after all.

Things might be different on this world. He'd tracked Jaraq Ringaren across the Outer Rim for two standard months now. He was a slippery bastard. Each time the former Dreadguard got close, the banker found another way to slip through his fingers. It was almost like the Twi'lek was playing a game with him now. He surely knew why Rook was following him - over the past year many of his cohorts had met with brutal deaths at the hands of an unnamed assassin.

As far as the Republic was concerned, Rook was a murderer with anarchist tendencies. G.R.I.M could not discern why he was targeting seemingly random individuals. They probably never would. He had his reasons though. The Star Cabal had done things to him - to his friends, his brothers. They were the cause of this galaxy's strife, and so the freed pawn had taken it upon himself to usurp them from their invisible throne.

The task was proving itself difficult these days. He'd forsaken his DG-MK-II suit in favor of a duraplast breastplate and a pair of beskar gauntlets. He would be safe from small arms fire, but he'd be sheered through in a firefight. If all things went well, a firefight would be the last thing he'd need to worry about.

A heavy cloak draped over his head and shoulders like a blanket. Those who saw him would see little more than a poor man covering himself from the elements. Only his lips and chin could be seen protruding from the folds of the robe. Hopefully the inhabitants would write him off as another Twi'lek.

Then he made a mistake. His eyes fell upon a purple Twi'lek woman. A gust of wind shifted his cloak, revealing his face:scarred from battle, pink skinned, angular -- human. Biting back a curse, the soldier yanked the cloak back down, and took off at a steady march into the village.

"Ringaren set up shop near the eastern side of town. He's posing as a shopkeeper now, but he's been stupid about it. He should have gone dark, but he didn't. I picked up a signal he sent to Ming, the guy on Taris. You've seen his profile: overweight, mid-forties, blue skin with a few stripes on his lekku," the voice in Rook's ear paused. "When he's dead go through his archives. Take whatever you find, then we burn atmosphere."

Rook nodded out of habit. Had he been wearing his hardsuit, the AI would have been able to discern his body language. As it was, Stanley was busy making sure the planet-hopper they'd procured wasn't going to explode while he was away. The only connection they had was this ear piece.

"I'll make it quick. Keep the engines warm though, we might have a problem," he mumbled as he passed through a small crowd of locals. "A Twi'lek girl might have seen me. Could be working for Rindaren. Can't know for sure."

Stanley was silent for a moment; too long really. Then he wasn't. "Okay. Do some recon then. We don't want to blow this; we can't afford to leave this world yet - Rindaren has an entire system set up here. If it remains after he's killed, then so does the Star Cabal's presence on this world.

"Noted."

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

[member="Rook"]

((I'm assuming his "check" will be on Qyren, so she can eat dinner before she goes hunting. ))

Perhaps if it had happened a moment sooner or later, Qyren wouldn't have noticed it. However, this was one of those events that had uncanny timing, a moment where she had just pulled her attention back to the present with the intention of going inside and the unfortunate passer-by's disguise had lifted, if only for a moment.

She wouldn't say their eyes met, he was too far off for that, but it was quite obvious that this traveler was not from one of the other villages that were part of their Twi'lek colony. It wasn't that humans passing through was entirely irregular, but usually they came in a group or they were affiliated with some larger faction who was looking for recruits for one thing or another. Qyren steered clear of them, of strangers. When the man yanked his hood back down and turned and hightailed his way back into the center of town, Qyren stood transfixed. The pall that had hung over her no longer sat heavy on her shoulders; for a moment, when she had seen his face, she had known... something. Something... wounded that plagued her and begged for someone to heal it. The word destiny floated to the forefront of her mind. The fleeting impression was gone as soon as the man turned, but Qyren, in spite of her nature and common sense, found herself taking slow steps forward to follow him. Compelled. She felt compelled to follow him.

"Qyrenl'eret!"

Her feet stopped. Her mother's voice calling from in the house had broken the spell, and Qyren turned back to her home with a moment's hesitation, glancing into the slowly deepening darkness after the figure. He was out of sight now; she had no idea where he would have gone, and, really, she shouldn't care. What if he was a slaver or a thief? Few people wanted so badly to stay hidden that they gave it away so openly to a person who had seen their face.

Let it go, she counseled herself as she disappeared back into the house, mind still caught on the feeling of the moment before.

 

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A thousand thoughts fought for supremacy in his mind. Indecision was accepting failure, and he was having trouble not doing so. One might have considered him paranoid, but recent happenings would see why. Back on Iego, a young man had stared at him a moment longer than he needed to. Rook had paid it little mind at the time; deciding that the boy was only interested in the armor he wore. The storm of blaster fire that befell him when he turned the next corner had wizened him up. Should he pull out?

No, I can't afford to do that.

With a heavy sigh, the former soldier continued on. The village was confusing, to say the least. These kind of settlements always were. He had not seen a single being that was not a Twi'lek as of yet - a bad sign given his current circumstances. The girl hadn't made eye contact with him, but he knew she saw him. He had no explanation for the sensation; nothing more than a nagging feeling at the back of his mind.

He couldn't continue to the shop without being sure.

Grumbling a string of curses under his breath, Rook wheeled about toward the direction of the purple Twi'lek's home. He certainly wasn't intending to knock, so long as he could catch a good look through the window to make sure a call wasn't being made, he would be fine. He waited for what felt like an eternity - four minutes really - for the street to clear itself. The sun began to set over the horizon, and people were wrapping up what business they had for the day. He took a short look around to make sure no one was paying him any mind and crossed the street.

With practiced feet he crept he skirted along the length of the house. He was careful to avoid stepping on any bushes, or other vegetation that might give him away. He came to the first window and glanced inside, then the next, and the next. He briefly pressed his ear to the edge of the glass with each window he came across. His headset was an amplifier; whatever conversation was going on inside, he would hear.

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

When Qyren had finally come in, her father had joked with her about her penchant for staring at the sky, and Qyren had accepted it with good-natured grace. Ultimately, her father had been the one to help her mother set the table, so Qyren volunteered for the clean-up. They ate in relative silence for the first few minutes, but then her father began discussing what news he had picked up from the latest group back from a visit to one of the neighboring villages.

"-- wedding will be in time for the next full moons," he finished in their native Ryl, shoveling the next forkful of food into his mouth as a resounding conclusion.

"That's wonderful; we will have to think of something suitable for them, Qyrenl'eret," Naot'aeret commented. Qyren caught her mother's speculative glance and looked away, not at all fooled by Naot'aeret's casual movements of her food around her plate. She quickly but casually shoved a piece of bread into her mouth.

"I wonder what types of gifts you will receive when the time comes for you to be married."

Qyren awkwardly pushed her food around her plate, then risked a glance at her father and mother again. "Something suitable, I'm sure."

Her father scoffed before taking his next bite and Qyren smiled faintly at the reaction to her unintentional sarcasm. Her mother only shook her head.

Qyren switched to Basic, a sign of her discomfort. "I have time, Mother." I'm only 19.

In response, her mother also switched to Basic. "Yes, but you have so many well-intentioned young men still interested in you. None have caught your fancy?" There was hope in her mother's voice.

Again, Qyren looked to her father and then dropped her gaze. "They're just.. boys I know. Father, you said that the mechanic was taking on an apprentice from another town?"

Qyren knew her father had to recognize the redirect for what it was-- certainly her mother did-- but Huluu'neret swept into the new topic with gusto. Either he had taken pity on her or he didn't want to discuss the topic either.

"Yes. A strapping lad from Kalenor who is eager to get into the trade. He'll be leaving his parents home to move here as a bachelor." Qyren's eyelids fluttered as she fought not to close them in resignation. "Tayet'enora seems to think it will be good for business; he intends to lower his prices for a time to give the boy a chance to wet his hands with real work. Certainly he's more friendly to his neighbors than Innitb'orenn. I wish I knew what the man was doing, making promises and being kind one minute and keeping himself distant from the community the next."

"Prices were up again this week," Naot'aeret added, voice vaguely ominous. "And he is strange. One of the mothers said that when she went in to the store last week, he wasn't even there; when he came in from the back to find her in the building, she said he was very distressed. The door was unlocked! What does he expect during business hours!"

The movement of Qyren's hand as she went to finish off her meal hesitated; they were being watched. She dropped her gaze to her plate, focused on the feeling. The press came from the right, toward the window. She swallowed and reached for her glass, gaze darting to the closed curtains. There could be no one there; she was just being paranoid, like a child.

She rose to her feet and offered to take her mother's plate, still trying to shake the feeling that the family was not alone. The hooded human from the street suddenly came to mind and the fear of raiders sprang up anew.

[member="Rook"]

 

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That was the name. Rook barely made it out amidst the small talk. Rindaren's alias was one the former soldier knew well - Stanley had outdone himself in tracking the Twi'lek once again. If nothing else, it at least confirmed that Rindaren was indeed in town. Whether he'd ran with his tail between his legs or not yet was a different story.

Then she saw him.

It was a short glance, one he would not have paid much mind to in any other situation, but now?

Gotta move.

He gave the purple Twi'lek one final look before turning sharp on his heels. He wasted no time in lingering getting away from the home - perhaps he'd been a bit too loud in the process. His boots scraped against on the shrubery, just loud enough to be heard by those inside if there was an unlucky lul in the conversation. The soldier didn't turn back to look.

"You know that Twi'lek?" He mumbled into the comm.

"The purple one? I've got nothing, though the skin coloration was odd. Some kind of hybrid maybe?" Stanley's voice crackled through the headset. "I don't think she's in league with Rindaren though."

Rook breathed a quiet sigh of relief. From what he'd seen; it was just a family enjoying their evening, talking about their daughter's future and her possible suitors. He might have lived a similar life had things gone down a different path. As it was, he was not allowed such a luxury. Duty called.

"Maybe not, but I bet they are..." Rook came to a dead stop, "I thought he was going to be alone?"

Ahead, a Rodian and a heavy set human wandered the street. None of the villagers were out. It was getting late -- little villages like this tended to close down when night fell. These two were clearly not natives, and the weapons they sported supported that thought. One hefted a disruptor, a small violent weapon. The other a simple sidearm, but even that was enough to punch a hole through Rook's chest. Rindaren must have known he was coming somehow.

The Twi'lek!

"Frakking...comm silence Stanley," he snapped as the duo turned a corner down the road. The soldier darted off to the side, falling to a knee behind a mass of shrubbery. The plants were thorned and dug into his knees, but they did the trick. The two mercenaries passed down the road, mumbling an unintelligible conversation. Rook's window was closing, and that purple Twi'lek was likely the key to finding Rindaren if he ran.

No doubt the scumbag had already made his escape. Rook needed to get out of town, but not before paying this little spy a visit.

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

[member="Rook"]

As Qyren turned back to the dining room, the sound of something moving in the bushes drifted in through the open kitchen window. A shiver ran down her spine. The curtains had been mostly closed, so she hadn't seen anyone, but that sound-- Qyren looked at the open window and then at the staff by the door.

I should stay, she thought as she went back into the dining room. And tell Father about it so he can look for the human. He can't be up to any good, skulking around outside our home. However, as she lifted the last of the dishes, she felt the same compulsion she had felt when she saw the human leave earlier. I have to go.

Qyren set the dishes in the sink, knowing she was losing time the longer she waited and knowing whoever it was by the window-- she didn't know it was the human-- was long since gone. She closed her eyes against her compulsion and calmly began washing dishes. The feeling remained background noise in her thoughts as she got through washing everything and setting it aside to dry.

As she looked out the window at the sliver of the moon hanging above the fading blue along the horizon, Qyren made an incredibly illogical and likely stupid decision-- but it was the right one.

"The dishes are clean!" she called back into the other room. Her father entered a moment later to retrieve his current woodworking project. She smiled at him. "I'm going to find a good place to look at the stars as they come out."

"Qyrenl'eret, be careful. It's dark out," her mother counseled as she came to the doorway.

Qyren smiled, lifted the heavy staff that rested by the door and walked over to kiss her mother on the cheek. "It isn't far. I won't stay out very late."

She slipped out the front door and started her trek down the street. It didn't seem to matter which way she went; every step was the right one, and she found herself winding her way toward the market, rather than the open park by the lake. Suddenly, she stopped, slipping into the shadow of a house. A pair of strange aliens were walking down the street; they weren't looking her way-- were, in fact, walking away from her-- but that set off all kinds of alarm bells. Her eyes widened slightly. The human. It was a raiding party or, maybe, slavers. Qyren's grip on the staff tightened. She must have stumbled across an advance scouting party, though the two bulkier men who had just turned out of her line of sight didn't seem overly concerned about being noticed. Qyren's lips pressed together tightly, and then she slid back into the street, following the two large aliens on light, quiet feet. She couldn't find the human, but these two she could follow for now, until she came close to the house of one of the local law enforcement officials. They could handle it from there. She just had to be careful not to be caught until she had alerted someone.

 

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Rogit was not pleased with Mister Innitb'orenn's ridiculous idea as to how protection worked. The Rodian and his partner Hal were hired to keep an assassin from doing his duties. Apparently, the Twi'lek shopkeeper had a past he was not too proud of. That didn't matter much to Rogit -- most people moved to these kind of colonies with the hope of losing themselves. What did matter was that Innitb'orenn's coffers seemed endless. He'd paid Rogit handsomely for his services.

The Rodian had his own code of ethics. If he took a job, then he wanted to see it through. You didn't take up this kind of profession to do things halfheartedly. When the Twi'lek insisted that he and Hal patrol the streets, he'd been a bit irked. The easiest way to keep Innitb'orenn safe was to stay by his side. Not to mention the nature of the colony made things even more difficult. The Twi'leks saw offworlders here from time to time, but those of different species often brought trouble with them.

"Why do ya think he's got us out here?" The Rodian grumbled to his partner, "The job would be a whole lot easier if we were by his side."

Hal just shrugged. "People who aren't Twi'leks here have a bad reputation, Rogit. He's probably using us to scare off the locals -- he was talking about leaving the planet tonight with that man on the comms."

Rogit lofted a scaly brow. The Twi'lek had already paid the two of them, so if he felt the need to leave, then so be it. That would be the end of the contract. If fulfilling that contract required they play the part of folks with a dangerous streak, then so be it.

Maybe if they were lucky they'd find one of the head-tail girls unattended. Rogit abhored slavery -- save for these creatures. If they weren't in the service of the galaxy's other races, then they were trying to get power; head-tails had a tendency to cause problems for everyone else. Rogit couldn't help but recall the riots on Coruscant during the fall of the Republic lead by that Twi'lek schutta. A lot of people had died in the chaos, and for what?

"Just keep your eyes peeled. By the good sir the time he needs; maybe find us a head-tail girl. They're worth a lotta credits, and I've been needing to buy Sharra a hover-chair." Rogit pulled his muzzle back in what passed for a Rodian smile. "She's getting better. The treatments are starting to work out. Building bone marrow, or so the doctor says."

Hal cracked a warm smile "She deserves it. Your daughter's a star, Rogit," he flicked off the safety on his sidearm. "If I see one, I'll stun her. See any uniforms and we run."




Rook was stalking the Twi'lek while she stalked the mercenaries. It was more difficult than he'd initially thought. She knew her way around, and he wasn't as nimble as he would have liked. She would hide behind an outcropping, and he behind a street lamp half a block away. She'd make a sharp turn, and he would have to jog to keep up. It was an amusing, albeit tiring, game. He couldn't pounce on her yet. Her behavior did not much his hypothesis -- if she was working with Rindaren, why would she be tracking her thugs?

It would have been much easier for him to wrap his head around had Stanley been on the line. Alas, he'd cut all communications to keep them being intercepted by Rindaren. It wasn't all bad; the silence helped him focus.

The men made a sharp turn down one of the main roads, and Rook moved forward. Drawing in a deep breath, he stalked his way up to a few paces behind the Twi'lek. She would have quite likely heard him by now, but he had insurance. The DC-15s rose from the folds of his cloak; whirring as its power cell cam online.

"Freeze. Not a word," he growled, "You working for Rindaren -- Innitb-orren?" He probably should have said more for the sake of explanation. Problem was, basic simply was not his strong suit. He could come up with a quick joke, or a snark remark here and there, but extensive conversation was trying.

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

[member="Rook"]

Qyren froze at the sound of a blaster charging behind her. She had thought it odd that the supposed scouts were just wandering around, talking instead of... well, scouting. She didn't dare move, but she wished she could at least turn to see her attacker. They spoke in Basic, unaccented, which implied an outsider-- not to mention the blaster, of course-- but Qyren couldn't tell if it was the human from earlier or another member of the strange party that seemed to be up to no good in her hometown.

His question made her swallow, but the blaster demanded a response. She carefully set the butt of the staff on the ground and adjusted her grip on it. She felt a tremor starting in her hands, but she forced her body to appear relaxed. "I have no job," she replied in Basic, staring across the street. The other two were getting away, wherever "away" was.

Her best chance of escape would be if she could face him and convince him she wasn't a threat; disarming him would be dangerous, but if he would lower the blaster, even for a moment, she could distract him enough to get out of his line of sight, she hoped.

Her eyes darted around the area, forming the likeliest escape strategy in that instance. She wished she had volunteered to be trained as a warrior when she came of age.

 

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Rogit heard something. It was quiet thing -- little more than a slight buzz in his ear, but it was a sound he knew. One he recalled quite well in fact. Someone was charging a blaster. The Rodian turned on the balls of his heels, disruptor raised on instinct. "Hal." he murmured, "Purple head-tail...that's probably exotic."

The human nodded. "Definitely. Probably worth a whole lot more credit than the usual. She's got the right build too. Think Sempra might want her?"

"Maybe. Grab the speeder. We'll need to move quickly." The Rodian motioned his friend on. Hal needed no further urging. He turned and broke into a dead sprint down one of the nearby alleys. He would soar in on their air speeder any moment now. "Hey! Girl, on your feet."

That was when he saw it. There was a figure moving behind the Twi'lek, one hidden in the shadows. A faint blue glow was coming from its hand -- no, not its hand. Rogit did not hesitate to fire.

The Disruptor roared as it fired two monstrous bolts. The energy casing around the projectiles broke prematurely, as the Disruptor was designed to do. The first missed entirely; instead destroying half the road, and knocking over a street lamp. The second hit closer to home, missing the woman by a wide margin. She was the prize, after all.

It crashed into the ground near Rook's feet. The cement melted as it was destroyed at the molecular level. Some of the weapon's splash-off rumbled its way through Rook, tearing through his breastplate and leaving a nasty gash along his left side. His blaster barked back at Rogit, firing a precision burst at the bug eyed alien's head.

Two connected with Rogit's head. The other his neck. He didn't even have the time to scream before collapsing to the ground; his head hanging on by a shred of muscle.

The whole village had heard by now. Some people were walking outside to observe. Others watched from windows. The authorities were surely on their way.

Hal only had a moment to do the job. His air speeder swept up and over the rooftops barreling down toward the purple Twi'lek and the human. Rook would have fired at the man, but he was quickly losing consciousness from his rather grievous wound: the blood was pouring. His blaster had fallen to his side; the mag light was glowing blue. The weapon could still be fired.

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

[member="Rook"]

Qyren's eyes fixed on the alien walking toward her just before he addressed her, feeling the pit of her stomach sink at his order. She didn't dare move with a blaster pointed behind her, and so she maintained a pointed stare at the Rodian's boots instead. Then, unexpectedly, an instruction flared in her mind:

Move!

Qyren suddenly rolled aside, dropping her staff in the process, and heard the road behind her roar as bits and pieces of something rained down on her. She scrambled to her feet and half-turned, intending to run away but instinctively needing to see what the danger was; part of the road was now a half-melted crater and a nearby lamp was in ruins, casting their section of street into shadow. The Rodian--

Qyren felt her stomach churn and quickly averted her eyes from the grisly sight. Oh Kikalekki. Why?

Instead, she found herself looking at the disoriented and injured human behind her, the second crater before him a testament to how he wound up in such shape in such a short period of time. It was the same man. Qyren knew, somehow, that behind her people were exiting from the few houses in the area to see what was happening, unwise though it was. Most would retreat immediately and call for the same officials Qyren had intended to inform, but it wouldn't be in time. The sound of a speeder drew her attention next and she recognized the pilot as the Rodian's companion; he was out for blood, though the human who was his target didn't seem capable of giving much more of that. If she didn't divert his course, the human, at least, would die. He was in no state to dodge a speeding vehicle.

Help him.

Abandoning her staff to its fate, Qyren made her second stupid mistake of the night and ran toward the human instead of away, directly into the line the speeder would take in only moments. She grabbed for the glowing blaster almost without thinking, her face desperate, and then whirled back. This didn't require a death; any other consequences of her actions would be for her to consider later, once she and the man were safe. Qyren fired wildly at one of the visible nacelles, and then, suddenly, changed her fire to the driver; the blast wouldn't penetrate the metal quickly enough. Although she didn't have a choice if she expected to live, she still hoped she didn't kill him.

Her shot caught Hal in the shoulder and the speeder careened wildly off course at the last second, passing over her head as she ducked. Qyren watched it crash into the side of a local business, not at all sure if the man who had been flying it was still alive. She swallowed and glanced around; most of the bystanders had gone back inside. The human--

Blood coated what was left of his armor. He seemed barely conscious, and Qyren instinctively stepped forward to make sure he was still alive, placing a hand against his neck. Blood steadily oozed from the hole in his breastplate. She couldn't handle a wound like that on her own! Even if she could even see what it was, it looked too severe for her complete lack of skill. She thrust a hand forward anyway, trying to ignore the sickening sensation of her fingers sliding through hot blood, and felt for the damage. It didn't feel like his torso had been blown open, which was Qyren's initial and grisly fear; it was a gaping wound, maybe, but one that might be staunched and sealed, if she could only find a way to get him moving. She pulled her hand back after she accidentally pressed too far on the wound, bile rising in her throat at the feeling of her fingers sliding against flesh. If she waited for the authorities, she knew this man would wind up spending time in prison, even if he had only been defending himself. She pointedly did not turn to look at the Rodian.

Swallowing back her natural inclinations, she forced herself to ask in Basic, "Can you understand me? Can you move at all?" While she spoke, her hands reached down to begin untying her overskirt, blood from her hand smearing across her skin along with her clothes. With deft motions, she wadded the fabric into a ball and pressed it firmly against the most offensive of the stranger's wounds, trying to stem the flow of lifeblood that was staining the ground as well as the two people haplessly caught up in the violence.

 

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This one was certainly not one of Rindaren's people.

Rook had never had the displeasure of taking a blow from a disruptor; even a glancing blow was devastating. He was lucky he still had a torso at all. Any closer and the blast would have to torn apart his rib-cage, among other things. The thought sent a shiver down his spine -- something that proved detrimental, as it inflamed the pain steadily throbbing through his right side. He needed an adrenal; something to get his body moving before the authorities arrived. The Rodian was surely dead, but there was the possibility of the human surviving the crash. He might know where Rindaren was headed.

His mind muddled and foggy. He tried to stand up, but his legs barely twitched in response. Focusing on anything beyond the pain was proving insurmountably difficult, if not impossible. His fingers scraped the ground where his blaster had been, only to return with a fistful of gravel. Where had it gone? Had the Twi'lek taken it?

Ah, yes the Twi'lek.

Her voice cut through his mental fog. His ears were still ringing from the Disruptor's discharge but he managed to read her lips. She wanted to know if he could move.

Maybe.

"Need to go," he drew in a sharp breath, "Rindaren's men -- them. More coming." Rook shook his head. He needed to go, and the woman needed to find her own way to safety. Rindaren knew he was here, or that someone was hunting him at the least. The Twi'lek shopkeeper had likely fled already, but there was a chance he'd floundered in his escape. Perhaps something of importance was left behind.

Rook had a goal.

He forced himself to his feet, likely making the purple Twi'lek's efforts to keep him from bleeding out that much more difficult. His lips parted to speak, but whatever words he meant to say died in his throat. His eyes rolled back, his legs went limp, and he hit the ground with a thud. Consciousness left him.

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

[member="Rook"]

Qyren didn't know who Rindaren was, but she knew she had no interest in meeting anyone else who worked for him. As the human went to stand, Qyren tried to follow him, only to make an ineffective grab with a startled curse in Ryl when he collapsed back to the ground, fully unconscious.

Not good.

Qyren glanced desperately behind her, hearing the distant sound of voices and knowing it was the law enforcement for the town; they were not equipped the way the police of larger cities were, which was the only reason the pair hadn't been surrounded by concerned officials already. The problem was that she wasn't nearly strong enough to lift the tall, sturdily built man on her own-- he was even taller than her father, and her family could by no means be considered short-- which meant either leaving him to his fate or being caught with him and having to answer their questions-- and then watching him die or be killed later by the friends of the Rodian he'd murdered.

She looked up at movement from the other end of the street and recognized the tall figure running toward her. Fear and relief warred within her; her father had heard the disturbance and come looking for his daughter. Her luck, this time, was holding out. "Father," she said quietly, still pressing her overskirt into the worst of the human's wounds.

"Qyrenl'eret, what are you doing?" Her father looked horrified at the sight of the blood and reached out to her when he was close enough. "Are you injured--"

"It's not my blood. Father, please, help me get him to a doctor. He won't make it without medical treatment."

"No," her father replied instantly. "Absolutely not. Let the authorities take care of it. He--"

"Father, they'll throw him in prison, or he'll die when these men's friends find him," Qyren protested, lekku twitching with agitation. "I can't leave him here to die, so, please, help me!"

Although the lack of light in their area hid his expression, Qyren knew the emotions that were likely warring within her father. They were a quiet family who didn't run into trouble, especially not something as complex as helping a stranger who was dying from wounds incurred in an unlawful fight in the middle of the street. Qyren knew there were many reasons why this was a bad idea; she had thought of several of them herself. But her instincts told her that he wasn't meant to die here, in the middle of the street. Then again... maybe that was just wishful thinking. His breathing seemed to be growing fainter, more labored.

"You always said to help those in need. He won't be a threat to us, but our carelessness would be a threat to him. I won't leave him to that fate." Deep down, Qyren knew that she couldn't, even if he had held her at blaster point minutes earlier; she simply wouldn't be relating that to her father. She began sliding an arm under the man's injured side, trying to leverage him up. Suddenly, her father took the burden from her, lifting the man into his arms entirely, though it was likely a strain for him.

Her father spoke, his voice hard. "You will explain everything to me after we get him to the hospital. Move, now."

Qyren rushed down a side street to destroy the line-of-sight she would likely run into if they simply walked down the main street, staying within a few feet of her father as he moved as quickly as he was capable while weighed down by a limp body. Her father took charge once they had reached the hospital, seeing to it that the man was placed on a gurney and taken into a hospital room immediately for treatment. When the time came for questions to be asked-- specifically, how it had happened-- Qyren stumbled over her words, but made a passing excuse that he was a hapless passer-by caught up in a fight between two other men. Why had they not waited for the authorities? They were taking too long, and Qyren knew that it was pivotal that they get him help as soon as possible, so she took it upon herself to enlist her father's aid to do so.

Eventually, they were left alone, and Qyren sank into a chair in the waiting area, wishing for somewhere to wash up. It would have to wait, though; her father was looking down at her with disapproval.

"Explain," her father demanded, eyes and expression hard.

Without admitting that she had gone out in search of this same individual, she related to her father how she had seen the thugs, followed them with the intention of getting police, and how the human on the floor had come to her defense against them when they had seen her following and tried to take her with them. Qyren opted to leave the other facts of the incident out of her account.

Her father listened silently, then sat down across from her and proceeded to give her a thorough dressing down for her unusually reckless behavior. Qyren accepted that-- everything she had done since seeing the human had been reckless-- and then she and her father went together to get washed up.

"Will you come home? The doctors are likely to be with him for some time." Qyren hesitated, looking down the hall she had last seen the human disappear down, and then nodded. Her father's patience had been tried enough for one evening; she had no idea what they would tell her mother when they got home. She would come back in the morning. There was nothing more she could do for now.

 

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Everything was a blur. He felt as if he heard voices on the edge of his mind, but when he tried to grasp the words, they came back a disjointed mess. His eyes flickered as the doctors took him in. All he could make out was the scathing white light, and the sharp smell he'd come to associate with a hospital. A woman hovered over him for a moment, and then it was gone. The darkness took him once more.

When Rook awoke, he found himself alone. The room was quiet; the only sound coming from the constant beeping of the medical equipment to his right. Amber light dripped in through the single window; casting a golden glow on everything within. His clothing had been removed in favor of a hospital gown -- something he was not entirely pleased with. The soldier tried to jerk upward.

Everything hurt. Pain shot through him like lightning. His veins burned, his mouth grew dry, his back twisted and convulsed. He drew in a deep breath, and bit down on his lower lip to avoid crying out. Despite his own desires, Rook fell back against the bed, chest rising and falling heavily from the unexpected sensation.

What happened? Why am I here?

"Stanley?" He asked, "You there buddy?"

Nothing. With great care, he raised his hand up to his ear. The comm piece was gone. He was alone, and Stanley was too; unless the AI was the reason he found himself in this hospital. It was the only thing that made sense. He recalled being torn apart by the Rodian's disruptor and then -- the Twi'lek.

The hissing of a door sliding open stole his attentions.

"Hey there," the elderly Twi'lek cooed in heavily accented basic, "How are you feeling?" He came to rest alongside Rook's bed, smiling down at him. The Twi'lek was blue skinned and clearly past his prime, and the smile he was well practiced. Rook recognized it. It was the kind of smile one forced themselves to wear when delivering terrible news.

"I'm...alright. Everything hurts. Who brought me here?" Rook managed. There was a bit of a rasp to his voice -- it surprised him.

"A young woman found you. I don't know all the details exactly, but your wound was synonymous to the typical blaster shot. You wouldn't have anything to do with last night's shooting, would you?" The Twi'lek replied. The alien lofted a brow, and when he recieved no immediate answer, barked a laugh. "Regardless, that's none of my business, is it? We've treated you. You'll be down for a day or so, but nothing important was broken. Now, I believe that woman wished to speak with you," he paused, "Would you like privacy?"

Young woman? He must have meant the purple Twi'lek. Rook supposed he owed the woman a conversation, though he couldn't stay here long. Rindaren was gone, he was sure, and the trail would go cold if he sat here waiting to heal. The bacta on his ship would do the job.

Before he could answer, the doctor was out the door, and Rook was waiting for a woman he'd threatened at blaster point for some casual conversation. Lovely way to start the morning.

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

[member="Rook"]

Qyren had arrived to visiting hours a little late; after she had gotten home the night before, there had really only been time for another dressing down by both parents, a bath, and sleep. Nightmares kept waking her, bits and pieces of the gruesome death of the Rodian and the uncertainty of whether or not she had killed the human she had shot driving her mind to spin, even when it should have been safely empty and allowing her to recuperate.

So, after she had risen the next morning, made an apology breakfast for her parents, wrapped the blaster she had kept in her possession in a cloth, and stalwartly informed her parents that she was going to visit the human to make certain he had lived through whatever surgery he had had to undergo, Qyren took her small bundle and left. Had her father not had to work, she was certain he would have insisted on going with her; it had taken a great deal of stubborn head-shaking and refusal to convince her mother not to cancel her plans either. The night before, the human had mentioned Innitb'orren. Once Qyren had time to slow down and focus on something other than immediate danger, she recalled him using the name 'Rindaren' in conjunction with it; the same name he had been worried over just before he had fallen unconscious. With this in mind, Qyren took a circuitous route to the hospital, one that would lead her past the street Innitb'orren's store resided on, only to discover that the shop was closed and locked with no explanation or sign. Qyren went to the door and peered inside, but everything looked as usual, but for one drawer hanging open behind the counter.

If the human was looking for him, he knows it, and he has already left.

Qyren headed straight to the hospital after that, not wanting to lurk suspiciously about the premises; once the town realized Innitb'orren had mysteriously left in the middle of the night, some people would begin building connections. Qyren wanted to be left out of those connections as much as possible; she had experienced enough excitement to last her for several years.

She inquired after the speeder victim once she learned that the human was still asleep; according to the hospital, her victim was still in critical condition; they wouldn't be sure if he would make it until they saw how he weathered the next few days. The injuries he had incurred in the crash were severe, but there was a small chance he might make it through. Qyren allowed herself to think positively; that he might live would have to be enough.

A nurse eventually came to inform her that she could go in to visit and handed her the bag containing his belongings. Qyren nodded and made sure to take both packages with her. The room she was led to was nice enough, for a hospital room; Qyren glanced back as the nurse closed the door behind her, leaving her standing alone in the room with her would-be attacker-turned-defender. She simply stared at him for a long moment; in the light of day, without his armor or his hooded cloak, he looked... like a normal human. One who had clearly seen combat, but a normal human anyway.

Qyren finally broke the stare and moved forward to set his battered belongings on the chair, settling the cloth-wrapped blaster on top of it. She had wanted to make sure he lived, uncertain how or why they had ended up in this mess together at all, but she found she had no idea what to say now that she was here.

"Thank you." The Twi'lek girl lifted her eyes back to his, her face seemingly stoic but small tells around her mouth and eyes indicating her uncertainty, her indecision. Absently, one hand reached out to trace the shape of the blaster through its protective covering. There hadn't been time-- or thought, really-- to return it to him the night before. That might have been for the best, though, given where he had ended up.

 

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The first thing he wanted to know was whether or not she'd retrieved his sidearm. The weapon wasn't particularly special -- you could find a DC-15s on the market for a few hundred credits -- but it held emotional significance. He'd carried it through his entire service, one of the only things he retained from those bloody trials. It was also the only weapon he had with him that did not require punching someone; a difficult act given his current position. His lips parted to utter the question, but he was having trouble with his words. He stumbled over them, making an odd sound that should have come from a Ronto rather than any sentient being.

Instead, he took a moment to look over the girl. She was young, probably in her late teens, early twenties. Not far from his own age -- Rook speculated he was around twenty-two. It was hard to tell when droids scrubbed your memory and any record of your previous life was wiped from the galactic database. He might have been on the cusp of thirty for all he knew. The girl was pretty too, most Twi'leks were, and he doubted she was the type to use her charms. She didn't have the stance for it. Not that she'd have any reason to do so, Rook had no intention of withholding information, and it certainly would not have worked anyway. The soldier had long since learned to think with his head, not the rest of his anatomy.

His gaze fell to the mess of objects she set on the chair. His comm unit was in there, no doubt. Still, it would be rude to go for his gear before uttering a word to her, and it was likely he wouldn't be able to manage it either.

"You're welcome," he managed, staring deftly at the woman, "Though there's not much to thank me for. I thought you were working for Rindaren -- Innitb'orren." He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. The motion was uncomfortable, but it was nowhere near the agony moving his back had been.

She'll want a name. Rindaren knows my alias. He won't recognize my first name.

"My name is Alexander," he offered a slight nod, "I was here looking for Rindaren. He's a very bad man; had a hand in the big war between the Republic and the One Sith, though that probably doesn't hold much weight out here." he paused, "Those goons last night were probably his--...never imagined they'd be toting disruptors."


[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

[member="Rook"]

He spoke... a great deal more than she had expected. Qyren listened attentively, pleased when he offered his name rather than forcing her to ask for it. She was getting tired of thinking of him as "the human". The war meant little to her; it had occurred and Aikhibba had been affected somewhat, but she had been younger at the time and, since they hadn't been in the middle of it, it hadn't particularly "shaken her world" so to speak. Still, knowing-- or at least, being told, if she felt she could trust his word-- that she had potentially ended up on the right side of the previous night's conflict was comforting. She couldn't imagine how the thugs from yesterday could have been the right choice, but there had been the option to make no choice at all.

But that would have been wrong. It's not who I am.

"Qyrenl'eret," she offered, and then remembered that, except for among her people, most expected a Basic translation of the name. It probably explained Alexander's horrific accent when he tried to pronounce Innitb'orren's name. "Qyren," she corrected, not quite managing a smile.

"Your quarry is gone." Qyren knew she sounded odd when she spoke to strangers, but even now, with a name, they didn't know one another. She was struggling to decide what needed to be said and what would be babbling. "His store is locked tight; I don't believe he means to come back."

She lowered her gaze to his belongings, knowing that the half-hidden breast plate would likely be trashed rather than worn. It wouldn't offer him much protection now. "The nurse returned most of your equipment. I... held on to this." She tapped the bundle on top. "Would you like me to hide it somewhere before they see it?"

The covering might be good enough, but it would be better if they don't ask where it came from, should they realize it wasn't originally among his things.

 

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Rook's fears were confirmed. Rindaren was gone -- likely out of the system by now. Still, he had not had much time to escape, or so Rook thought. Perhaps there was a still a chance to find something of worth in the fugitive's shop. He'd have to pay it a visit when his body started to cooperate again. How long had that doctor said? About a day?

"It's a pleasure, Qyren." He offered a ghost of a smile. "I doubt he'll return, yeah. He's a slippery bastard; chased him across half the outer rim until I found him here. Well, found his henchmen anyway." The smile faded. The Cabal only had so many members left. The the past year and a half, Rook had taken upon himself to travel across the stars in search of them. They were the cause of his strife, and would not be allowed to repeat their crimes.

At least that was what he told himself.

His lips parted to speak, but the bundle she had carried in drew his attention. He recognized that familiar shape. Hiding the sidearm here, when he had little more than night gown to wear, would be difficult. Still, it would provide him some meager form of protection were Rindaren to send assailants, and he could not drag this girl further into his crusade. It was bad enough there had been a gunfight to begin with. Dragging a civilian along? Out of the question.

"I'll find some place to hide it. I can't leave it with you; there's the off chance the authorities might come looking for it." That was true. People had certainly seen her during the firefight, he was sure, and it was likely the authorities would come to question her at some point. If she was carrying a military grade weapon, and they happened to search her, things could take a very bad turn for Miss Qyren.

"Thanks for taking care of it, and coming by. Most of these people don't speak basic, and I'm not very fluent in Ryl." He huffed an amused sigh. "It's like talking to people behind a glass. They can understand me, but I can't make out a lick of what they're saying," he paused, "Don't let me keep you. I'm sure you've got something on your agenda. Don't want to keep you from your job."


[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

[member="Rook"]

The brief smile she had worn at his comment on non-Basic speakers faded as he continued. Qyren debated the intention of his words for a few minutes, leaving them in silence as she simply surveyed him. It was possible he didn't remember their conversation of the night before or it could be that he was giving her a polite excuse to leave. Or he was trying to find a polite way to get rid of her. She knew that, regardless of his intention, their journey together likely ended here. She could not follow him where he needed to go-- after Rindaren, obviously-- and she there was nothing more she could do for him here. The pull that had begun it all had ended the previous evening, once the clamor had died down, so there wasn't even that to guide her. Qyren still wasn't sure why it had happened at all; she determined to consider it intuition and leave it at that.

Ultimately, many of the responses she had to his comments went unsaid. There was also no way for her to interpret his intent, so she could only go with the denotation of his words in this case. "I told you," she replied quietly. "I do not have a job." She realized now what he had been asking her the night before, a moment's clarity sliding into her conscious mind.

"Why did you think I worked for Rindaren?" Her emerald eyes were soft and direct, but her manner was unoffended. Had he simply been paranoid? Had she done something to imply to him that she worked for those types of people?

What could I have possibly done? she countered herself. That can't be it.

 

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Why did you think I worked for Rindaren?

It was a fair question. The Twi'lek had that feel to her -- young, upstanding citizen, high morals -- so why had he suspected her of being one of Rindaren's henchmen? The answer was simple, but it was not simply said. Part of it was the fact that she was a Twi'lek; Rindaren was vocal about his xenophobic views toward the other galactic races. The other reason? Rook was paranoid, falling apart at the seams as his hunt continued. The closest thing he had come across to a kind soul before meeting Qyren was an innkeeper a month ago that had offered him breakfast. Everyone else wanted something.

"I was suspicious," no, that isn't it, "--Paranoid. Rindaren and his cohorts have used many different kinds of people to fool me. You don't really notice how rare good people are until you spend some time with society's dregs." With a bit of effort, he pushed himself into an upright position. He wasn't keeping her from any obligations, which relieved some of his guilt.

Still, he owed her.

"Rindaren's gone, but his shop isn't. I'm not going to be able to leave the planet for a few days. Not while the trail is still cold," he shook his head, "I should be up in a few hours. Would it be too much to ask for a tour of your colony? I just need to know the places where I can get food, supplies, and a place to stay the night without murdering my wallet. Credits are a little tight." That was putting it lightly.

Not for the first time, Rook found himself wishing he could sense other people's emotions like the bathrobes brigade. He could read humans like a book, but other races tended to have mannerisms he could not pick up on. When faced with anything slightly foreign to what he'd grown to understand, Rook was usually stumped. Unfortunately he was the very opposite of the Jedi -- the force did not touch him. He lived outside it, in a realm the Yuuzhan Vong had once occupied. The reason for this? The Republic had needed soldiers to combat Sith Lords. Rook had not volunteered, but he was chosen anyway.

According to the priests that made him an abomination. When he died, his soul would not go to the Nether, or wherever the Jedi preached of. It was doomed to walk the land that he died upon -- so Rook would just have to keep from getting murdered.

Wouldn't be too bad haunting this colony.

He snickered.

[member="Qyren Leret"]