Chapter Text

1 month after Katalla (The Cosmic Deck)

The longest day of the year arrived.  For one person, it arrived.

Many people in the galaxy thought of it as the day where the space between the living and the dead was the thinnest, especially if one didn’t buy into the whole ‘becoming one with the Force’ thing.  However, for her, this was the longest day of the year.    

Smuggler Captain Eva Corolastor had dropped her crew off to attend to her personal business, a yearly event.  She powered down both C2-N2 and T3-G2.  The little droid had asked why and whether there was a problem.

“The Master has things to attend to beyond our concern.  She will reactivate us in good time,” C2 reassured him, long-practiced at this ritual that came later in some years than others.  It was on time this year. 

How the galaxy viewed this day and how Eva viewed this day  -- these things were only coincidental.  History dictated her actions, not tradition. 

She traveled to a small corner of Imperial space.  She arrived and noted that once again, the stars had not changed.  They never did.  They were infinite.  She was insignificant. 

Eva dropped Virtue’s Thief into complete dark mode: no lights, no engines, nothing non-essential.  Whenever she did this, whenever she came to this place, she also disabled the ship’s climate control.  She let the temperature of the ship slide downward.  It would drop down past the point where her breath left clouds in the air and the cold shot through her skin painfully.

Eva didn’t bundle up.  She wanted to feel it.  Eventually, when it was all dark and cold enough, Eva watched the stars glide by so slowly so as to be unmoving to the naked eye.  Far away, a few streaks shot through the void.  Could be comets, could be live fire.  The Thief  was hidden here.  She listened to her earliest personal Captain’s Log entry, seated in her chair. 

The chatter on file was normal at the beginning.  The organization of the convoy, the acknowledgement of a new participant in the business – congratulations – but still early days, still learning, but what pride, to be able to pilot a ship all by one’s lonesome. 

The tone changed abruptly. 

Orion’s Glory here, Imperial fighters at bearing 1 – 1- 8.  They’re going to cut us in two.

Packleader here: this is an abort.  I repeat, this is an abort, everyone get—

The sharp snarl of static always made her flinch. 

Orion’s Glory here: Packleader is destroyed.  You heard him --  more coming, get away if you can.

Gloriana to Virtue’s Thief:  get gone, girl.

Thief to Gloriana:  I can go to hyperspace.  Your status?

There isn’t time.  I love you.  You always remember that.  Now fly away from here!

Dad --

Do it.

Ma, no  –

I’m proud of you.  Always have been.  You get my ship out of there.  You know the SOP – 24 hours dark.  Then we come back here.  Now go! 

The signal went weak as the Thief jumped to hyperspace.  Through another ship’s comms that had been left open, the Thief’s logs recorded the following:  Gloriana taking heavy fire.  Hadrian is dead already I’m---

The squeal of the radio had made it hard for her to sleep with open comms for years. 

Captain’s Log.  Oh gods, that’s me. 

I – returned – to the rendezvous point.  There is nothing. 

I have no idea what I’m doing. 

“And you still don’t,” Eva said to her sixteen-year-old self. 

I don’t know if I can do this.

Eva switched off her sobbing self, leaving the child in her logs.  “If you can live through a promotion at 16, everything else is easy.”  Her hand clenched into a fist, but she released it.  “No one can stop you.”

She sat in the cold awhile longer.  Eva wondered whether she should mention – well, was it significant?  On the other hand, it wasn’t as if there were a lot of exciting things going in this pocket of space. 

Eva gazed into the debris field which drifted into a wider swath of space every single year.  “Hi, Ma.  Dad.  I’m ok.  I’m still ok.  Better than I was.”  Her words puffed out of her like an ancient dragon.  She didn’t need to smoke when it was this cold in here. 

“I quit drinking.  I was so miserable.  Which was why I stopped drinking.  I’m better now.  The bar is open.

“So I know this guy.  Well, trying to get to know this guy.  He has issues.”  A shift in her seat.  “I do, too.  He doesn’t know ‘em all yet.  I think I know his, but the universe likes to play with us.  So maybe not.

“So, he’s trying to get to know me too.  And not like smugglers typically get to know each other.”   A beat.  “Not the way you two got to know each other.”  The candor would have been permissible even if the dust were alive and well, sitting in the lounge, talking over drinks. 

“He’s in deep cover right now.  We nearly blew it, twice.  Not my fault either time.  Not his fault either.  Again, the universe.  Some say it’s the Force.  We all agree on how likely that is.

“It’s good to see him.  But it gets worse every time, in a way.”  A pull of the legs up toward her chin, suppressing another shiver.

“He keeps putting off us starting anything.  Like really starting anything.  Speaking or touching like we actually mean it --- still off limits.  There’s always another qualifier, another wall to pull down.  For some ungodly reason, I’m letting him play me.”  She scoffed.  “It’s like he wants to have something, but he’s terrified of actually getting the thing he wants.  It’s like a self-aware dog chasing a speeder – once he catches it, what the hell does he do next?”

A pause.

“I don’t know either, which probably isn’t good or helpful.”   She shrugged in the darkness.  “Not much different than usual though.  Planning only goes so far in our world.”    

“I know the steps, in theory.  Heavy emphasis on ‘in theory.’” 

“I don’t know whether this is the best idea or the worst idea. No, not the worst.  At least I know he isn’t into sentient trafficking.” 

Oh, that came out far more bitter and angry than she intended.  “I think he’s a good man.  A decent man.  That doesn’t mean we’re any good for each other……We’ll see.”

Eva’s breath leaked out of her as she sat in silence.  She felt the void, the cold vacuum of space, the eerie silence.  This was her parents’ resting place, not some grassy field with a pleasant placard on the closest occupied Pub planet.

Did they – no, Hadrian was already dead. 

Did she feel it in her last seconds?  Was this what her mother felt in her last few seconds alive, before her lungs turned inside out or her brain was collapsed in on itself?

Did Athene suffer beyond the sight of her husband dead and the sound of her only surviving child in flight, terrified?

Eva suffered.  She made sure she did in the cold and in the lonely darkness.  Maybe it was an attempt at empathy, maybe it was atonement for not being on the same ship, maybe it was a form of survivor’s guilt. 

But she only did it once a year.  She only let it all hit her here.  And despite the void, she never forgot that she had been loved – they had always loved her and always would. 

Eva had a very well-organized and controlled sense of grief. 

When one had no future, the grief reminded her that at the end, she would go home.  She would go to them, wherever they were.  Eva had escaped Death so many times that, much like the Abbess Mother of the Three Moons, the venom had gone out of their game of cat-and-mouse.  He’d walk her home after one final night that went too far, finally claiming his prize after a worthy pursuit.

Grief was a security blanket, an assurance that everything would be right in the end. 

A tiny blip in the medbay computer told her time was up.  The end wasn’t today, so she better turn the heat on and warm up. 

“You two be good.  Don’t bother the other dust particles.  And don’t let parts of you show up in some morgue around here, half-frozen.  Had a false alarm last year.  It wasn’t you.  Didn’t like going to identify people who weren’t you.”

“It was Bagthar and Leta of Orion’s Glory, if you were curious.  Tats gave it away.”

Godparents were only useful if they outlived the original parents. 

“Eh, what do you care?  You’re dead.  I’m still alive.”  She let a ghostly smile cross her face.  “Yeah.  See you next year, same place.  I’ll try to be on time.”

Due to no fault of her own, Eva failed.  And she failed the following six years as well.

**                            

2 weeks later…

She had it.  She knew she had it.  Risha could tell from that unbearable, self-satisfied curl at her lip corners and how her eyes squinted, almost as if she was anticipating a big laugh at someone else’s expense.

Namely, Corso Riggs.  Why he still tried to beat his Captain at her second best game, Risha had no idea.  It was so dumb.  Eva Corolastor made enough at the tables to give up smuggling.  And she was sitting here with Bowdaar watching them as if it was a high-stakes tournament.

Gods, they were bored.  Akaavi and Guss were lucky enough to be off-shift and sleeping.  The rest of them had to be awake, though it was about time for Eva to kick off and get some sleep so she’d be fresh in 8 hours. 

It had been boring for months.  The most adrenaline the crew had was trying to find Eva on Nar Shaddaa, but even then, she’d managed to be hijacked by some well-built swoop racer. 

Some girls had all the luck. 

Bowie grunted quietly in Risha’s direction.  “He’s toast.”

“You just figured that out?”

“It was over before it started, but now he’s really lucky she doesn’t let us bet our paychecks.  He owes her 16 washers and 12 bolts.”

“Blast!  Come on, how many hands is that?”  Corso had just figured out he was indeed done.  He threw down his hand on the table.  Eva perched on her chair, smug.  If she were a cat, the tail would be twitching. 

Risha crossed her arms and asked, snidely.  “Do they play sabacc differently in your hometown?  Maybe the numbers on this deck go a little to high…” 

Corso scoffed, shooting a foul look at Risha.  “Hmph.  Better ways to spend my time.”  He made his way to the front of the ship. 

Yeah, the boredom was getting to all of them.  He was pissed over washers and bolts.

Bowdaar silently shrugged and followed him – what did he expect, playing with a professional gambler? 

Eva sat at the table for a moment, as if letting the brief joy of victory dissipate before moving to clean up the nuts, bolts, and the sabacc cards.  As Eva rose to her feet, Risha watched her move.  The boredom, the lack of news – it all weighted her down.  

Eva didn’t play sabacc often anymore.  Risha supposed it was because of the ex.  It was never her game anyway – pazaak was – but Eva had always tolerated a few rounds at the sabacc tables whenever his blood ran hot for it.

Risha suddenly had a long-shelved memory flash in her mind, one with a sabacc tournament, too much to drink, maybe a line or two in the ladies room.  Eva’s voice, giggly, trembled as they sat above the competitor’s pit, watching her man.   “Once we centralize everything at Port Nowhere, we can yank the carpet right out from under the Voidwolf, the Imps, the Pubs, everyone – I’ll conquer Dubrillion, for ya, Rish.  We’re gonna be unstoppable.”

“We” was not referring to Eva and crew – no, that was certain as he clinched his purse, and she was rushing down to the floor, heels clattering across the floor, then she was airborn as she leapt up into his arms, and he spun his girl. 

Even Risha had bought that con.

The memories blurred together – that was how nights ended when they were younger. 

She moved so much slower now. 

“Since the game is winding down, can I borrow you for a minute?”

Eva squared the deck away in its protective box in a secret drawer in the table.  “Go ahead.  What’s wrong with my ship now?”  She reached across the table to turn off the table’s gaming lights with one hand while the other rattled the nuts and bolts like dice, jokingly suggesting that the solution was right there. 

“I think someone’s tampered with the navicomputer,”  Risha began.  She went silent as Eva halted all motion. 

The dark eyes peered over at Risha, slowly straightening up.  Risha had noticed how wary Eva had become after two run-ins with Revanites that were unpredicted and most certainly unwanted.  She had her own suspicions as to who else she’d see during those brief stints without the crew. 

Risha and the crew had given up almost entirely on the Theron Shan pool.  Who the hell knew where he was and whether he was alive?  If Risha’s instincts were correct, however their chance encounters had gone, it hadn’t ended with a bedroom resolution, which meant the pool was still open. 

Eva was still drinking though, so she wasn’t as much of a mess as she had been during the early days of the Darok-Arkous conspiracy.  That was some small relief. 

“Tampered with it?  How?” the Captain asked, perching herself on the edge of the table, arms crossed, head tilted ready to listen.

Risha hated to admit it.  “I couldn’t begin to guess.  I’m not aware of any devices in law enforcement or on the black market that could manipulate another ship’s nav computer. 

Eva didn’t move for a few moments, lips twisted in a grimace, thinking.  “You sure it’s a device and not a hack?”

Rishi shrugged and gestured for Eva to follow her to the cockpit. “I don’t know, and it galls me.”  The two women were in motion as they looped through the hallway, Eva dumping the nuts and bolts into a jar as they passed.  “Every time I put in a course, it replots it to a planet at the very edge of the Outer Rim: Rishi.”

 “Rishi?  The pirate hideout?”  Corso’s voice called out from the co-pilot’s chair.  As Eva, followed by Risha, entered the cockpit, he turned in his chair to continue the conversation. 

“So I’ve heard,” Risha answered.  “It’s not that we couldn’t make some credits in that type of setting, but I prefer to have a choice in the matter.” 

Eva’s brow furrowed, lips still contorted.  Suddenly, she tore the paneling off both sides of the nav computer console with a  series of loud clatters.  Risha and Corso exchanged a wide-eyed look.  Bowdaar stuck his head into the cockpit, having made a stop in the galley before coming up front.  She was in a mood.  Eva reached into a pocket and got a small flashlight out.  “You fixed the thing?”  She knelt down and craned her neck to see into the guts of her ship. 

“Already done.  Nothing has physically been done to the computer – no signs of tampering, wire-cutting, or someone being in here that shouldn’t have been.  I had Akaavi run an external scan, and nothing popped.”  Risha sat leaned back against the wall next to Bowie.  “Someone wants us on that planet.  Some kind of subtle job offer?”

“Or a trap,” Corso supplied helpfully.  “I told you, Cap, that computer’s been on the fritz for awhile now.  If there’s a gremlin in there, it’s been in for months now.  I told you back at Carrick….”  He didn’t finish the sentence.  He’d told her at Carrick before Rakata Prime, the last time they’d heard from –

Corso liked this one better than the last one, but he didn’t like her being as she was about him.  It wasn’t jealousy, Risha noted.  He never liked seeing her miserable; that, combined with the Annual Crew Day of Leave (which everyone knew about but never spoke about), prompted him to acquire some Naboo Rolling Hills. 

Risha had to admit, the sauce was pretty good. 

Eva bowed her head slightly switching off her light, staring into the dark recesses of the nav computer.  She was thinking.  Something clicked inside her head, and a nasty grin sliced across her face.  She stood up, kicking the paneling to the side of the cockpit.  “Sounds like more fun than another hand of sabacc, Corso.  Let’s find out what Rishi has in store.  Bowie, get Akaavi to help you space the nav computer.”

There was a beat of silence.

“What?!” Risha snapped.  “It’s one of the few things that we can actually repair ourselves and not spend money on!”

Eva sat herself down in her pilot’s seat.  “You just said it’s been compromised by some sort of external force.  It’s a security threat.  What happens if someone uses the nav computer to slice into vital systems like the artificial gravity or the air scrubber?  It’s a liability.”  Eva cracked her knuckles and manually plotted a course toward Rishi.  “Space it.”

Risha fumed silently.  Bowdaar pulled down his tool kit from the supply closet. “You’re mad?”

“Damn straight I am.  This is my goddamn ship, and if you want us for a job, you call like a civilized person.  So I’m taking away their toys.”  Eva still wore that smile, darker and slightly more disturbing than usual. “Get T3 to run a slice analysis on it – find a signal of origin or some fingerprints if possible.” 

“But we’re still going.  We’re just not going to inform them that we’re coming,” Bowdaar growled as he knelt down and started to power down the nav computer permanently.

Eva hummed, and Risha realized exactly who Eva suspected of being the slicer responsible. 

The pool just got interesting again. 

“I do jobs on my terms.  Let ‘em have some surprises.  We’re not at their beck and call, whoever they are.”  Increasing amounts of malevolent glee flowed off of Eva as Bowdaar began to take apart the nav console.

Risha saw Corso dart a look over at Eva.  “You know who it is.  You’re just giving them crap for messing with your ship.”

Eva shook a finger at Corso.  “Never let it said I let them push me around.  Didn’t you tell me not to do that?”

Something that suspiciously sounded like a laugh erupted from Corso.  “That’s my girl.” 

No, nobody’s girl but her own was Risha’s impulsive thought.  Then she considered how long this man had had her attention.  Almost seven months.

Yeah, pool had to be redesigned entirely. 

The Nav Computer received a funeral and was spaced within 6 hours once T3 had had a look at it. 

His findings were privy to the Captain of Virtue’s Thief.

**

“You ever been to Rishi?”   Eva peered  out of the front-facing view port as Corso entered orbit around the watery planet.  “I think I had a drop-off one night and a pick-up the following morning, so I just stayed up all night enjoying myself.  Don’t remember the details.”  She wore her heavier smuggler’s coat, with numerous pockets and spots for hold-out weapons – new place, new danger. 

Corso shook his head.  “Viidu used to talk about retiring out here.  Never was sure if he was serious, but it seemed he was afraid of the place.” 

“He should have been.  Not a place for old guys looking to be quiet.”  Guss stuck his head into the cockpit.  “I was here a couple weeks like fifteen, twenty years.  I was a teenager.  Non-stop bad trouble the entire time.  Rishi moves fast, Captain.” 

“Fast enough to get the Voidhound’s feet nice and wet or fast enough to drown her if she’s not careful?”  She pulled up an entry on the Holonet to get some idea of what she was deal with. 

“This is old intel, boss.  It might be more orderly now or even crazier – gauge it by how many bodies are outside the cantinas in the morning.”

“Always a good measuring unit,” she mused.    As her eyes scanned over the Holonet info, she asked the Wookiee copilot, “You got an opinion?”

Bowdaar looked over at the scanners as they picked up general data from the planet.  “They have trees, but scrawny ones, according the computer.  I don’t care.”

Eva smiled for a moment but soon became pre-occupied with the database info on Rishi, leaning back against the closet door as Corso brought Virtue’s Thief into a typical orbit pattern and started to hail for landing clearance.  Founded by pirates, non-aligned though technically located on Pub turf (which meant nothing if this place was as Guss remembered).  Had to import most food, fuel, and tech, but tech was cheap because they could directly barter with exonium. 

Huh.  Interesting.  She could do something with that. 

And the native Rishii – not the pirates -- were evangelical.  They had missionaries all over the place.  Eva had seen a few of their monks (?) in space ports across the galaxy.  Strange birds, quite literally. 

Eva flipped through the file on the Nova Blades.  Not a lot officially, but she could probably hit up Rogun for less-than-official intel.  It was a family business, from what Eva could tell; generation after generation of Novas had the same last name, and even though a way had been found out of the Rishi maze ages ago, they never went back to where they came from.  Entrenched, then.  Eva drummed her fingers along the frame of the datapad thoughtfully. 

Exonium. 

She pulled up a quick Holonet message.

To: Rogun

From:  EC

Query:   Why no hand with the Minotaur?

Risha, by far, was the best criminal on the crew.  However, Eva had her moments of inspiration and instinct, probably inherited from business-minded Athene.  Rishi seemed like it had potential, but there was obviously something there, some hornet’s nest Rogun and even Ivory hadn’t wanted to kick. 

Eva had a curious mind and was suddenly desperate to find out.  She switched off the data pad and pocketed it in an interior pocket.  Then she silently exited the cockpit, looking for Risha.  The two of them were the most inconspicuous of the crew; Akaavi being a Mando made her stand out, Bowdaar was literally 10 feet tall, Corso was so hick he was a magnet for trouble, and Guss –

Guss was Guss, and that’s really the only thing that had to be said here.

A thought struck her, and she changed course to the cargo hold, where C2 and T3 were doing a quick inventory of holdover goods from previous ventures – if they could move this excess on Rishi, then the visit was worth it within itself.  “C2, can you spare T3 for a second?  I need him to be watchdog on something.”

C2 silently tilted at the waist forwards and then back, the equivalent of a nod.  She really had to get him better articulation gears, but he never seemed bothered.  The Hollis models had been constructed for butler-like duties anyway, so he might have actually been displeased by the reduction in formality.  T3 rolled forward, chirping happily.

Eva crouched down to whisper to the droid.  “You and I know both know a mutual friend is here.  Just have to find him and find out why he didn’t directly ask us.  Can you scan the comm channels for him?  Check for any odd transmissions, anything that changed since we received that signal and maybe a week or two before.  Look for any old familiar hallmarks – you know the ones slicers leave.”

“Affirmative.  T3 = miss him too.”

“Itching to get back to SIS?” Eva gave the droid a lopsided grin.  Something about that organization inspired fierce loyalty.

“No.  This = more exciting.  T3 = no deprogramming.  T3 = T3.”

Eva blinked twice.  Oh.  Right.  When T3 went back to SIS, they probably wouldn’t like his personality – well, he already had that.  Whatever it was that made droids be themselves and not just another unit, T3 had it long before she tweaked to his systems to make him more socialable, blendable in civilian and underworld society.  And she gave him back those memories of the wild party he’d attended – now that was a happy droid.  All of those adjustments granted him an even more pronounced liberty in his tiny silicon soul. 

If he went back, T3 would have to give it up. 

“T3 = Theron Shan’s friend.  T3 = T3’s friend.”

He liked himself. 

Goddammit. Eva never had thought through what would happen when this merry chase was over, when Theron called on her, when everything was perfect in his universe again and he went back to SIS.  It wasn’t just a  him and her problem, it was a “T3 really doesn’t have the temperament to be a government worker anymore; let’s wipe his memory cells and repurpose him to be a cafeteria droid” problem. 

Eh.  She’d stolen government property before.  Who gave a flying kriff?  “I won’t let that happen, and I’m pretty sure Theron won’t either.  If anyone comes looking to deprogram you after this, I can probably convince him to say he ‘lost’ his droid in the midst of the mayhem. We’d probably have to burn out any SIS database links you have –”

“T3 = willing.”

“But not yet.  Who knows, you might become the SIS poster boy for droid rights and good and faithful public servants.” 

T3 blew a raspberry at the odds of that happening. 

“Until they come looking to reprogram you, you keep those connections hot – they’ve proven to be pretty useful to us so far, right?”

T3 whirred happily.  He had most certainly been a contributing member to recent Virtue’s Thief ventures – profitable ones.

“One more thing – Nova Blades.  Find anything SIS has on them, even if the source is suspect or the intel incomplete.  The fact they haven’t tripped my radar as Voidhound to this point bugs me.  What don’t I know and why don’t I know it?”

“Smuggler = good question.  T3 = on it, boss.”

**

As Eva and Risha walked down the gangplank and onto the docks of Raider’s Cove, Eva was immediately struck by the taste of salt in the air.  It wasn’t enough to burn the eyes, but it was certainly pungent, if it was possible for salt to be pungent.  Eva gave the surrounding area a once-over. 

Hadrian had always taught her to case the locale.  Look.  Shut your mouth.  Run it later.  Know what spaces you can fit into – watch your weight, don’t be like me.  It was in the middle of this analysis that Eva was startled to hear Risha’s voice.  Distant and dreamy, the tone was rarely heard.

The last time Eva had heard it, they’d been on Corellia.  She hoped to hell this memory was better than the summer of trees. 

“My father took me to Rishi once when I was a little girl.  I was scared of the black sands.”  Eva’s eye dropped over the side of the dock, and behold, black sand.  “They frightened me.  But by the end, it was a good trip.” 

“Why’d they frighten you?” Eva asked, still looking over the edge.

“The sand can dye your skin temporarily. A grey, corpselike color.  I was making a sand castle when I realized my hands were --- I’d seen that color before, on people.” There was a flicker behind Risha’s eyes.

Eva often regretted ever helping Nok Drayen, a piece of drekk to the very end. 

As usual, Risha excused her father’s behavior.  “But once he saw me staring at my hands, he dunked me in the ocean twice, and it washed away – I was too busy spluterring water to be distressed about it anymore.” 

Eva wanted to say something else, but that would have started an argument in a public place.  Skipping that.   “Might make for good camo at night, if we have to do our fair share of skulking around here.   Let’s hit the town – Raider’s Cove, you said?”

Risha nodded and with a slight squirm of her shoulders, she cast away the memories and moved forward.  Eva let her pass in front of her, then followed. 

The thing was, if she hadn’t helped Nok Drayen, she never would have won Risha over.  By getting that treasure, she wouldn’t have gotten that privateer gig.  She probably wouldn’t have continued the affair with him if that opportunity hadn’t arisen.  Then everything cascaded like dominos – if not Drayen, then not Voidhound and everything… everyone that came with it.

Eva supposed the crew was a fair trade off for helping a monster. Several monsters.  She wished, however, she could have had it another way. 

She let the thoughts escape her mind as the bustling marketplace of Raider’s Cove came into sight.  New place, new adventure.

Eva loved being a smuggler. 

Chapter Text

“Captain, there’s a local security system that relies upon holocams to capture facial identifications,” Akaavi’s voice came through to Eva’s commlink. 

Eva paused at the edge of the docks.  “Can we jam it?”

“Likely. It’s not particularly advanced.”

“Do it.”

“Won’t that cause suspicion?”

“If it does, it draws people that we likely want to deal with out of hiding.  If it doesn’t, then Rishi is just another intergalactic stop-and-rob just off the hyperlanes; they don’t actually keep the cams running.  They just use them as a deterrent.”

“Aye, Captain.”  Eva could hear Akaavi’s hands flying over the command board of Virtue’s Thief, activating its signal jammer – nothing too fancy, but good enough to blot out transmissions from the holocams. 

Risha and Eva then moved through the crowd.  They let themselves appear to be tourists, easily distracted and attracted to the shiny objects for sale.  Eva let herself sink into the quiet mumbling of the crowd, her eyes playing at being consumed with fascination over a pendant at a jewelry booth.  She could smell the local street food being prepared a few stalls down – something pan seared, possibly fish-adjacent.  Breakfast had been skipped – she’d been too nervy to consider the prospect.  The voices in the marketplace were low, quiet, and unhurried.  Normal lives, normal concerns, normal days.    Nothing strange worth talking about here. 

Eva looked up briefly to make eye contact with Risha, who was remarkably feigning interest over local potted plants.  No, she didn’t hear anything unusual either. This was just market day, the front stalls out there for visitors, and the stalls at the back geared toward the residents of Rishi – not just the bird-like natives, but the humanoids as well.  There were a few rough characters roaming around, but they seemed to have no interest in women without exterior coat pockets. 

Eva startled as a monkey lizard leapt out from behind the counter and scurried up into the rafters.  It peered down at her with glowing yellow eyes, its snout barely visible over a distended stomach.  One planet-side pest to watch out for.  Eva understood them to be supposedly semi-sentient, but this one didn’t seem to be particularly well-mannered. 

Based on previous planet-side escapades, according to Bowdaar, they were tasty when roasted, though a little stringy.  If this one got up in her face, she’d have the Wookiee come shopping with her next time. 

At the end of the long aisle of market stalls, Eva and Risha reconvened.  “Nothing suspicious here among the humanoids.  The native Rishii keeps look at us, however,” Risha murmured, bowing her head slightly in toward Eva.

Eva didn’t look around.  “What’s he doing?”

“Checks his merch, looks at you, goes back to his merch, then double-checks on you.  Seems flustered.  Pattern repeats.  He doesn’t want you anywhere near him.”

“He notice you?”

“No.  I didn’t trip his radar when I came right up to his table.  He’s preoccupied with you.”  Risha leaned slightly to look down at some of the trinkets laid out on a nearby table, letting their conversation become less formal, less intense.

“Someone gave him my face.”  Eva’s lips barely moved as she assessed the situation.  “They didn’t know who I’d be on the ground with – could have been Guss for underhanded dealings, could have been Bowie or Corso for a bit of muscle.  Could have been anyone on crew.  But they knew I’d be running my own intel.”

“And that’s why what you do is stupid.  You let the stooges check things out; let them take the risks while you observe from the safety of the ship,” Risha hissed back toward her. 

“I take risks I wouldn’t want anyone else to take.  That’s a good Captain.”

“That’s a bad commander and boss.”  ‘Boss’ here was meant in the ‘crimelord’ sense -- not something to say out loud in a marketplace. 

“I’m just a smuggler. Everything else is a massive misunderstanding.” 

Risha scoffed at this.  Eva knew Risha always felt they could be doing something more daring, more lucrative, and more high-profile than what they were.  She felt like Eva wasn’t living up to her full potential. 

Given how Nok Drayen and a few other famous criminals went down, Eva wasn’t exactly ambitious.  Too much of that got people spaced or poisoned, especially if they were highly visible.   Eva’s eyes fluttered as the thought shot through her head.  Rishi could be taken by being invisible, if the product was right and if the current proprietors of Rishi were unconnected enough….

Eva shelved the thoughts abruptly.  “Think he’d pull a blaster on us?” she asked Risha.

Risha gave her a withering look.  “He’s trembling and you haven’t even looked at him directly yet.  He’s terrified.” 

“Let’s go make friends,” Eva cheerily replied and gave Risha’s shoulder a squeeze as she turned around headed straight for the Rishii native’s table.

Risha made some exasperated noise and cursed at Eva’s back.  The Captain couldn’t help but grin. 

The Rishii had moved away from his table in order to enter the arrival of two new crates of goods into his datapad.  Eva swooped in, appearing suddenly in front of him. “Gooood morning,” Eva drawled as she sidled up next to the crates.

The feathers on the Rishii’s head vibrated silently for a few moments before their owner managed to croak out, “G-g-good morning. I am Qaraah, h-h-happy to serve any visitor of Rishi…”  The unfortunate soul blinked once, then twice, before his brain managed to reboot and more words came out of his mouth. “Oh…. Uhhhh…. You’re from the Red Hulls, aren’t you?”

The first rule of improv is always to say yes to everything.  Your partner will tell you everything you need to know to play the scene.  Eva silently nodded, putting her hands on her hips and keeping her faced guarded and neutral.

Qaraah continued on, nervously.  “Welcome to Raider’s Cove!”  He gestured to the world around him before rambling on. “Nothing but fellow pirates here – you and your crew don’t have to kill or maim or eat anyone, right?”

Eva actively stopped herself from bursting out laughing.  This was too much.  She had to find out which dumbass dreamed this up.  She had her suspicions, but that Sith had her own surprises. She rallied up her finest con bravado and went for it.  “Kill or maim?  Eating people….. what are you talking about?” she leaned in toward her source, hands open in askance. 

Qarrah immediately reared back, as if finding a coiled, deadly snake inside one of his crates.  “It—it’s what you do. Everyone knows!”  The birdman’s eyes darted nervously around the marketplace, assuring himself that this wouldn’t happen to him in broad daylight.  “I’m sure those people your crew ate on Taloraan had it coming.”

Eva arched a single brow, and she heard Risha sigh beside her.  Qaraah flailed slightly in response to the subtle gesture.  “But we’re all friends here, right?  No need for any massacres or cannibalism here!”  His voice hitched up a half-octave on the last two words.

Eva could feel eyes on her.  Attention had been drawn, and now people were seeing her for the first time – no longer a generic woman in a crowd but someone who had been gossiped about and remarked upon by unknown sources.  Her instinct told her to play it.  “Forgive the disguises, but it seems someone already knew we were coming.  What little bird told you that?” 

Qaaraah froze where he stood.  It was like watching a small animal go motionless, hoping the predator hadn’t seen it.

“I really want to know.”  Eva spoke clearly and firmly.  At that opportune moment, her stomach growled.  She could feel the annoyance radiating off Risha. 

Qaarah collapsed like a house of cards.   “Gorro.  He’s the one who said you were coming. He won’t shut up about it.   He said he really wants to take you on – I’m sure he’s just bluffing though,” he hastily added.

Eva curled her lip upward slightly.   “Where can I find this ‘Gorro’ person?”

Qaaraah seemed all too eager to get rid of her and direct to some other target of interest.   “The cantina.  Probably. He hangs out there a lot.”

Eva pinned the bird with her cold gaze.  “Which cantina?  This is Rishi, after all.”

“Blaster’s Path!”  Qaaraah blurted out nervously. 

Eva dropped her eyes.  Swift fingers curled down into a hidden wrist pocket on the smuggler’s coat. “Thank you,” she said quietly, flipping a coin onto the nearby crate.  It wasn’t local currency, but it would still be worth something.

Qarrah watched as the coin spun gracefully in place on the crate, and by the time he looked up again, Eva had long crept away and disappeared into the crowd with her companion.

**

“I’m going to strangle them,” Risha muttered around a disposable spork.  They’d given in to hunger and taken on some of the local street food – some sort of bacalhau, with a starchy root vegetable and a dried fish.  “Cannibal pirates.  Who the hell thought of that?”

Eva shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.  There’s the cover, we play it to the hilt.”  Eva thoughtfully scrapped a stray chunk of something off the back of her spork with her teeth, then spoke.  “They’re going to get more than what they asked for.”

Risha’s shoulders sagged, and she carefully turned to her on their perch – an abandoned building’s balcony that gave them a decent view of the marketplace.  “Do we really have to?” 

“I don’t know.  Think Voidfleet can make money here?” Eva paused to look at her, swinging her legs off the side of the balcony like a small child. 

“On what?”

“You see anything to do around here other than shop and drink?  Any culture or museums or enriching activities?”

Light sparked in Risha’s eyes.  “Now you’re thinking like a crimelord.  Remote locations without entertainment are ideal for spice-running – nothing to do but get wasted.  What else?”

“They got exonium.  They trade it for foodstuff – I assume anything not from the ocean – and tech.  Exonium itself is fuel, but they don’t have processing here, so they have to give it up for ship fuel – I assume standard, not like isotope-5 stuff.  ”

“Just as well, since you blew that market to smithereens,” Risha sneered at her.

“Yeah, you didn’t exactly cry a river after I did it.  We made a mint off the stock exchange.” 

Eva shoveled more of the bacalhau into her mouth as Risha let a rare, happy smile cross her face.  “That was a good night.  Neat, clean, and no danger, but lots of credits.”

“Only had to get shot through my shoulder for the inspiration.” 

Risha shook her spork at her.  “Don’t tempt me or I’ll shoot you on a regular basis in the future to keep the creative juices flowing.” 

“That wasn’t creative juice.  That was my own blood and kolto.  It was like slicing into an undercooked Batuu chicken.”  Eva feigned annoyance before both women descended into quiet laughter.

Risha spoke again, eventually.  “Give me a day to run numbers on it.  I’ll see where their exonium is going and whether we can redirect… or maybe we need to expand into the fossil fuel industry.  Diversify Port Nowhere’s portfolio.”  She paused for a moment.  “This might be a lot more fun than those spies ever dreamed of.”

“Or had nightmares about,” Eva quipped before dropping the remains of her brunch into the trash dumpster one story below them.

**

Unsurprisingly, Blaster’s Path, the cantina, was dimly lit.  The lighting was even worse in the basement, where the bouncer had directed the pair of women when they said they were looking for someone.  “Downstairs mops up easier.  Just got a nice carpet up top – really ties the room together.”

Thus, it was concluded that Guss’s intel remained accurate and relevant to their current undertakings.  Always count the body stack at dawn. 

Eva and Risha drifted down the stairs slowly, taking their time.  This was not the best-built cantina; too many blind spots, too many attacks of opportunity.  It had been settled by pirates, so perhaps it was a series of deliberate design flaws.  Eva had no intent of getting shot up here, however; she wore her beskar vest under her coat, as usual.  Risha took her own precautions. 

As they slunk toward the bar, Eva heard fragments of conversation blasting across the basement room, emanating from the direction of one pink-toned Rodian.  Eva couldn’t tell his exact shade – the lighting was truly drekk.  “It’s the truth! They don’t just kill the crews they rob, they cook them and eat them.”

Eva gave Risha a look – they’d found their sentient.  Silently, the pair nonchalantly pulled up stools at the bar.  Eva caught the bartender’s eye and jerked her head in the Rodian’s direction then held up two fingers.  Two of whatever he was having.

The bartender went to work on the drinks as the Rodian ignored their presence and continued to run his mouth.  “When I kill people, I have the decency to leave their corpses where they fall.”  He slammed down the rest of his drink as the bartender placed two more of the same in front of Risha and Eva.  Eva looked down her nose at the small cup before her.  Oh, Green Galaxies.  They were drinks that looked pretty, but had no bite to them, unless one was a lightweight.  “These Red Hulls give us all a bad name,” Gorro finished with a dramatic flourish. 

Eva downed her drink in a single go before getting down to business.  She spun her chair to face the chatterbox. “You must be Gorro, the man of many words about people he doesn’t know.”  She let her cup clink down hard on the bar’s surface.

The Rodian froze in his seat.  The bartender looked flat out annoyed at the Rodian.  “Easy, Gorro, I just cleaned up after your last brawl.  Don’t do this to me again.”

Gorro stood to face Eva, hands open and held away from his body slightly.  He backed away from the bar.  Eva knew she was the faster draw and sat still in her seat, only rotating the stool to keep herself square to Gorro.  She immediately noticed that most of the bar’s patrons were now watching them, some of them falling in behind Gorro.  All the same, the fear was evident in Gorro’s pupil-less eyes.  His voice was steady, somehow.  “Are you kidding?  I’ve killed traders, soldiers, thieves, even beasts.  But never a cannibal.  This will be fun.” 

Eva remained still, hands on her thighs, no motion toward any holster.  “It doesn’t have to be.  I just want some information.  You give it, I’m gone.  Who told you that I’m the captain of the Red Hulls?”

Gorro stared at her, as if her request did not compute.   “Everyone’s heard of you.  Whole planet.  Even the droids.  And once I’ve killed you, everyone will hear about me.”

Suddenly, Risha stood up and unshouldered her blaster rifle in a swift, smooth movement.  Eva remained motionless as the people behind Gorro dispersed out and away from him.  As always, Risha was good crowd control. 

Eva kept her focus on the Rodian; Risha could handle the rest.  “Gorro, friend, I heard that all pirates are welcome here on Rishi,” Eva delivered smoothly, hands still idle on her legs.  “But you aren’t exactly making me feel welcome, what with the mob behind you and the blaster you’re just itching to get your little suction cups on.”

There was a brief second where all was still and silent in the cantina.  Then Gorro’s hand went to his blaster.

The sizzle of flesh and the smell of burning filled the air in a split second.

It was over before it even started.  He may have drawn first, but she had effortlessly drawn first blood, which had cauterized even before he hit the ground, a hole in his gut.  Eva’s eyes snapped upward toward the rest of the patrons in the bar.  Risha’s blaster rifle did its job, keeping the crowd at bay. Risha gave their audience a cold glare, daring them to try something. Anything.

Eva grunted in her general direct.  “Upstairs.  All of you,” Risha barked at them, angling herself to herd them upstairs without leaving the safety of the far wall that stretched alongside the bar. 

Like frightened sheep, they started to file toward the stairs.

Eva knelt down before her fallen foe and pressed the burning heat of the barrel into his arm.  “Who gave you my face?” she hissed as he yelped.

Gorro regained his composure long enough to spit at her, and he hit her cheek.  A gasp went up from one of the onlookers, strangled in the throat so the Red Hulls’ captain wouldn’t look her way.

Eva did not respond to this provocation.  She glared, imperious.  “You can answer me, or I can humiliate you.  You can live, or you can lie there like the small-time punk you are.”

One of Gorro’s limbs made a sudden move.  Eva shot blindly at the other arm.  He must have had another pistol or a knife, somewhere on him. His scream indicated her aim and knowledge of anatomy were true. 

Unfazed, Eva rose up.  “I don’t play with my food before I eat it.  It’s rude.” She wiped the slime from her face.  “Once you’re done escorting our guests, I’m ready to go,” she said loudly to Risha, eyes never leaving Gorro. 

From where he lay, likely dying, Gorro yelled at her in impotent fury.  “Finish it, then.  My friends will come after you --!”

Her lip curled up slightly, as if torn among disgust, humor, and pity.  “Your friends are being marched upstairs, and here you are now, on the floor.”  She raised the blaster still clutched in her hand.  “You want me to finish it?” 

Gorro seethed on the floor as Eva turned slowly in a circle, making eye contact with the bar’s denizens as they filed up the stairs, hurried along by Risha’s rifle.  “Any takers?  Anyone coming after me to avenge Gorro the Brave, Gorro the Wordy on the floor here?” 

All was silent.  As she turned, Eva caught sight of the bartender, cowering behind the bar, eyes wide with fear.  Eva gave her a quiet, slight nod.  The bartender blinked a few times, unsure as to how to interpret the gesture.  Eva held up her free hand – it would be fine. Eva gave a look to Risha.  She simply redirected Eva’s attention back toward the Rodian on the floor.  Gorro stood there, rolling in pain of a few different sorts.  Nobody was coming to help him to fight.

That stung.

“You done here, Gorro?  Or do you want me to help you out?” 

A rather foul obscenity erupted from him, and Eva finished him.  One shot to the forehead, right on the narrow patch of skin between the two large eyes.  Whispers began to run up and down the human chain that ascended the stairs.  “The Red Hulls!”  “I didn’t even see her reach for her blaster.”  “Wait til the Novas get a load of this.”

Risha forced them up the stairs until she could activate the security gate at the bottom of the steps; the proprietors of the bar had no concept of lighting but definitely crowd control. 

Eva watched the gate hum to life, radiant green light blocking access to the basement.  She stepped over Gorro and plonked herself back on her bar stool.  “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll like some information,” she called over the bar.

Slowly, the bartender rose to her full height and then leaned over to catch a look at Gorro.  “Well, at least you didn’t make much of a mess.  Cheap blasters leave bloody, gaping wounds – so much to clean up.” 

“Got a name?”  Eva asked, pulling out a small cache of credits to pay for her and Risha’s drinks and Gorro’s.  She piled the used credits neatly and pushed them toward the bartender. Eva paused, pointedly, so that the woman on the other side of the bar saw what she still had in hand.  Then she placed the pile next to her on the bar and waited.  “I could go for a Sullustan gin and tonic with an information sidecar.” 

The bartender peered over Eva’s shoulder at Risha, who sat down next to her captain at the bar.  Risha coolly answered the unasked question. “Sonic Servodriver, neat.”

The bartender nodded and set to work on the drinks. “You can call me Kareena.  Then I’ll know it’s you looking for me.” She darted a nervous glance at them. 

Eva slide a credit over to her side of the bar, in exchange for her name.  “I’m looking for information, not a second course for lunch,” Eva reassured her, unable to resist the urge to tease.

Kareena looked up from her work momentarily to look at the dead Rodian, then she looked back over at Eva, sidewise.  “You….uh….you’re not gonna eat him, are you? That’s the last thing I need people hearing about my place.”

 “Not the shootouts?”  Risha asked

“That’s actually part of the allure here on Rishi. Well?”

Eva smirked.  “Only during raids.  That’s our code.  Also, Rodians.  Like eating rabbits – not enough fat to taste good.”  Eva could see Risha rolling her eyes just at the edge of her peripheral vision. 

Kareena stared.  “That’s …. Good to hear…”

Eva pulled a few credits out of her pile and shuffled them one-handed.  As Kareena gave Risha her Sonic Servodrive and Eva her Sullustan gin and tonic, Eva placed the credits in Kareena’s growing pile.  Eva palmed another few credits as she asked, “You know who told Gorro about me?”

Kareena leaned back against a closed fridge unit and crossed her arms.  “Kai Zykken.  He’s an idiot that runs one of the crews here in town.  I don’t let Zykken or his goons into my place.”

“What kind of Sithspit is he, if you let Gorro in?” Eva took a sip of her drink.

Kareena shrugged.  “Gorro was a public nuisance, but relatively harmless.  Nobody’s gonna miss him except his brother.  Zykken?  He does foolish things that make people want to kill him on the regular.  Like a loth cat, he must have nine lives or something.”  Kareena shook her head, then continued. “Gorro had just come from one of Zykken’s sabacc games when he started talking you up within the last week or so.  Had to be him.”

“Sabacc is the source of all troubles on this job,” grumbled Risha.

Eva only winced slightly and drained her glass.  Kareena gestured toward the gin bottle and Eva shook her head.  She did, however, grab the last of the credits off her pile. 

Kareena waved them off.  “You’ll have to find them out in town somewhere.  I don’t go looking for them, nor do I want to know where they crawl out from at night.  And watch out for Gorro’s brother --- he’s a handful.”

Eva gave her a half grin as Risha finished up her Servodriver.  Eva added the remaining credits to Kareena’s pile and rose to her feet.  “Pleasure doing business with you.  One last thing – got an exit down here?”

“Through the back.  Would it be too much to ask---?”

“We try to do our own wetwork when possible,” Risha airily cut her off as she and Eva readied to dispose of Gorro’s body in the nearest alleyway.

**

Eva stared at her comm unit as if it had grown three heads.  “Come again?”  She leaned back against the wall of the alley behind the Blaster’s Path. 

“The guy’s listed in the Holocall book, Cap.  It’s a number for one of the local warehouses,” Corso dutifully repeated. 

Eva turned to Risha and repeated to her, blankly, “He’s listed in the Holocall book.”

“Kareena did say he was an idiot.  And that’s probably something one of our idiots would do,” Risha answered, wiping her gloves off on the wall.

“Nah, always go unlisted.  Too many holo-marketers,” Eva heard Guss grumble through the comm link. 

“You learned the hard way?” Akaavi asked, and the mumbling from the Mon Cal suggested an affirmative answer. 

Eva sighed.  “Ok, this warehouse – what’s he and his crew running?” 

Eva heard someone sit down in the co-pilot’s chair.  “Based on the information I’ve pulled up, Zykken is apparently a leader of the Corellian Run Scoundrels,” Akaavi replied.

Both Risha and Eva turned to each other in unison and made faces.  “Must go through the Death Wind Corridor.  But why call yourself the Corellian Run Scoundrels if you aren’t actually on the Run itself?”  Risha asked.

“Branding?”  Eva shrugged.  “What’s he run, Akaavi?”

A thoughtful ‘hmm’ came over the comm. “Random items.  Nothing consistent. Weapons, no particular style.  Clothing, no particular style. Corellian whiskey –”

“What the kriff is the point of that? It’s not rare and Rishi doesn’t have any dry laws that we’ve seen…”  Eva kicked at a random can in the alley, sending it clattering down toward the far end.  “What’s missing here?”

Risha crossed her arms and frowned.  “Nova Blades. They’re the big game here, but we haven’t see any of it yet.  We’ve seen small-time, but nothing large enough on the food chain to suggest they run the planet.”

“But they do,” countered Eva.  “Unless that’s a seriously good P.R. team.” 

Risha shook her head.  “Something doesn’t add up, and I don’t like it.  You’re calling Rogun when you get back to the ship – get the old man to tell you a few stories.”

“What would Rogun know?” Eva asked.  She’d already sent that inquiry off to Port Nowhere, but she hadn’t received a response yet.  Time to pick the other brains in this operation.

“Why aren’t we doing business on a legally lax Pub planet?  And why is the Pub turning a blind eye?  And why did Rogun and Ivory?  It’d be like missing out on Voss for centuries,” explained Risha, slightly snotty.

Akaavi chimed in. “There’s exceedingly little on Holonet about Rishi, despite it being not far off the Mid-Rim and having been in the Republic for a number of years.  This is suspicious.  Something lies beneath.”

Yeah, Eva had reached that conclusion a few hours ago.  But what was it?

“Let’s shelve this until we can find some more intel,” Eva said as she started to move toward the mouth of the alley. “Corso, send over the coords for that warehouse –”

“And send over Bowdaar. I’m done.  I need to figure this out.” Risha’s patience had run out for the day.  Eva could see it in her body language.

“Curiosity eating at you?” Eva tilted her head slightly to look at Risha as they exited the alley and started to make their way toward the warehouse at the end of the docks. 

Risha pursed her lips.  “I don’t like business dealings that don’t have immediate, rational explanations.  It’s why I hate taking jobs blind and why I hate your do-gooder tendencies: I don’t see the business in front of me, so why are we doing it? In this case, where are the Novas even doing it, considering they supposedly run this planet?” Risha craned her neck, looking both ways before the pair stepped out of the alley.  “Besides, I’ve met my idiot quota for the day.  Bowdaar should have some fun playing up the whole ‘eats people’ thing.”

“Say hi to our idiots for me,” Eva cheerily bade her farewell, and the two women parted in different directions. 

If there was anyone who could unravel the mystery of the Rishi pirates, it was Risha Drayen.  Eva had little doubt of that. 

Chapter Text

Bowdaar thumped Eva soundly on the head when he finally met her at the rendezvous point – a local newsstand that strangely stocked the latest swoop racing Holo-files. “‘Say hi to our idiots for me’, little girl?” 

Eva just grinned at him as she replaced the Holo-file on the rack.  The manager of the stand scowled at her as she and Bowdaar walked off.  “Let’s keep on track and scare some other idiot.  Can you try to look frightening?”

Bowdaar huffed at her and straightened up to his full height of over 3 meters then put on his happy face, which had an awful lot of teeth.

The door to the warehouse was wide open, and people milled about, unaware of Eva’s presence.  The Wookiee didn’t even seem to catch their eyes.  Eva and Bowie exchanged a look. “Not very observant,” he remarked.

“Sounds like the Red Hulls only started to be promoted this past week.  Fits with when the nav computer went on the fritz.”  Eva frowned.  Something was not fitting together correctly.  Gorro said everyone knew.  Yet, so far, only Qarrah and he had reacted to them as if they were intruders, the big bad Red Hulls.  Eva and Risha had walked through the marketplace and the Blaster’s Path without any trouble – until they were identified by those two specific people.

One of them happened to have a market stall at a convenient spot that would enable him to see any new arrivals to Rishi.  But nobody else – nobody to stop them or block them. 

Eva knew something was up.  Was it the spies or something more sinister?   Hopefully Risha could start cracking that. 

Eva scanned the top floor of the warehouse, where the offices tended to be.  Bowdaar pointed with a single claw. “Up there.  Privacy screen.”

Eva nodded.  “Think he’ll give us too much trouble?”

Bowdaar grunted.  “You’re the one with the beskar vest; what do you care?” 

Eva elbowed him and made a sour face.  “Seriously, now.”

Bowdaar was swift to grab her elbow, which was absolutely tiny in his hand.  “Akaavi gave me a blaster – I don’t need to be up close and personal.  Let’s head upstairs. You can draw faster than he can.” 

“That skill already got a workout today.  Can you tell if anyone is up there?”

Bowdaar looked down at her. “I’m a Wookiee, not a bassa hound; I can’t smell them from here.”  He paused for a moment.  “What’s got you nervous?”

Eva gestured abstractly back toward the ship.  “Trails of breadcrumbs.  Spies.  Pirates that own planets but don’t act like it.  Something isn’t right here, Bowie.”  She peered up at him.  “Ever feel like you were about to walk into a room as a bomb was going off?”

“With you?  Always.  Let’s go, little girl.”  Bowdaar strode toward the staircase that would take them to the upper floor, and Eva had to break into a jog so her shorter legs could keep up with her long-limbed companion.

Bowdaar moved with the confidence of a warrior that was experienced, but not so old that battle was boring or something reluctantly encountered.  He was impressive – always had been, even at first sight when he was poisoned and ill on Nar Shaddaa.   Eva followed him up the stairs, her blaster already out to cover his back.  She found herself peering around his large form as the floor of the upper office came into sight. 

Eva was always surprised at how quiet Bowdaar was when he moved.  Perhaps it was a life of living in fear; perhaps it was a trait all Wookiees had – she didn’t know many well enough to know for sure.  The only time she heard Bowie was when the floor plates bowed under his weight with a creak; if the floor at a given location was in good condition, he was as stealthy as she was. 

Having Bowie use a stealth generator never got old, however.

Either way, he rose to the top of the staircase silently and smoothly, as if rising on an escalator.  His feet padded across the floor, backing himself into the nearest corner, craning his head around the cabinets and dividers to determine where their quarry was.  A small, low growl indicated he’d sighted them.

Eva moved in front of him, the smaller target and the better shot.  She crept along the floor, one slow steady foot in front of the other.

As she emerged into an open space in the upper office, a Bith immediately noticed her.  He only tilted his head and paused, arms instinctively raised above his head.  Apparently, he was familiar with the risks of doing business on Rishi with this character.  His shoulders raised and lowered, seemingly in a silent sigh, before he jerked his head in the direction of a human who was completely oblivious, bopping around to a song that blasted through earpods, staring at some trashy holo movie on the screen in front of him. His back was to them, and he showed no signs of intellect.

Eva silently mouthed to the Bith “Kai Zykken?”

He nodded.

She mouthed again, “Really?”

The Bith nodded, not exactly thrilled. 

Eva gestured with her blaster for him to move off to the side.  The Bith did so.

Eva watched as Zykken continued to prance around, still not aware of their presence.  “Should we set a timer?” she murmured back at Bowie. 

“I want to bet on which part of his biology fails when he does see you.” She could hear the Wookiee equivalent of a smirk in that response.  Eva gave her head a shake and then scoffed before moving closer to Zykken. 

Still oblivious.

She drew within six feet.

Nope.

Three feet.

Not even a turn.

Arm’s reach.

It was a miracle he wasn’t already dead.  What an idiot.

Eva’s swift nimble figures reached and yanked one of the earpods out of his head. “Kai Zykken?” she barked right in his ear.

After jolting and going completely white, his first instinct was to slam the screen in front of him down, like a kid caught watching dirty holos (which he was).  There was a brief flitter of recognition that she was kinda hot, and a goofy look came over his face. Then he realized she had a blaster, and just like the Bith, his hands immediately reached for the ceiling.  Any sign of lust or humor was quickly gone. 

“They have way too much practice doing that,” Bowdaar drily observed from the back of the room, his blaster trained on the Bith.

The man assumed to be Kai Zykken managed to stutter out a few weak words. “Uh….I no speak basic.  Nee wonna wonga?”

Eva stared at him, humorless, and she could feel Bowie move up behind her, probably with his happy face on. 

The Bith, chimed in from the side him.  “I don’t think it’s working, boss.”

“And neither did Gorro, apparently!”  Zykken tried to twist around to look at the Bith, but the threatening creak of his cheap fake leather jacket limited his movement.  “This is not my day…” he mumbled as he faced square to Eva.  He tried to plaster on the face of a charmer, but the end result was more along the lines of constipated terror.  “Hello!  Yes, I am indeed Kai Zykken. Though here are probably lots of people with that name.  Just saying.”

Eva really couldn’t resist this.  Neither could the Voidhound.  She deliberately paused and closed her eyes, letting the cold facade wash over her.  “You know why I’ve come.  Nobody messes with the Red Hulls.”  Her voice dropped half an octave, and the cold look she gave Zykken caused his pallor to slide several shades toward pale, despite the tan he’d picked up on Rishi. 

The nervous chatter picked up – no sign of guile or efforts at activating an emergency signal or protocol.  “Of course!  A debt’s a debt, and my word is my vow…"

The Bith moved his head to attract Eva’s attention for moment and shook it vigorously.  This poor guy. 

True to the Bith’s anticipation, Zykken plowed onward, “You don’t really need those credits now, do you?  As in ‘now’, now?”

Eva darted a cautious glance over at Bowdaar; she could see the subtle twitch of his nose; he wasn’t a bassa hound, but he could pick up newcomers in the immediate area.  With her blaster, Eva gestured, and Zykken’s eyes bounced along with it.  “I want what I’m owed, Zykken.  I’m not leaving without my credits.”

“See, the problem with me paying you is that I can’t.”  He was almost too cheery about that, and Eva calmly adjusted her blaster’s angle to arc a shot right through his forehead.  Zykken had just enough awareness to notice.  “Tell you what – instead of credits, how about I tell you who warned me that you were coming?”

Well, that was something.  But still, the role of the pirate – she stepped forward to press the cool barrel of the blaster into his forehead.  “I still want my money,” the Voidhound hissed.  Zykken went rigid with fear. “...and but this does buy you time…”   The blaster was taken away and aimed toward the ceiling.  Not looking away from Zykken’s figure, which now slouched in relief, she calmly flipped on the ‘broadcast translation’ option on her wrist band.  She didn’t need to have Bowie translated, but their guests did.  “How much you think, Bowie?” 

“How many working limbs do you want me to leave him with?”  The Shyriiwook was translated into Basic, and Eva nearly burst into laughter, as she realized that Bowdaar had somehow programmed the emulator to mimic Darth Marr’s voice to convey his message.

T3 must have had something to do with this.  The Thief didn’t have enough voice samples of Marr to make it sound that good. 

Zykken helplessly wheezed.  “That’s gotta be worth something!  Just give me enough time – whatever time you need to go to whoever sold you out… Lemme stay in one piece?”  He seemed torn between standing stock-still or going down on his knees to beg for his life. 

Eva cast a look around the warehouse.  Hmm. Idea.   “Nice place,” she said as an abrupt change of topic.  “Seaside property, ocean view.” 

Bowdaar began puff.  Zykken wasn’t familiar with Wookiees, as he shrank back against his desk in fear; he didn’t realize that Bowie was laughing. 

The Bith cleared his throat and rolled a shoulder; he probably did have a repetitive stress injury from sticking his hands up far too often.  “This is mostly a small ante business, but if you need a warehouse local, this one is well-placed.”

Eva cast a look around.  “I can see that.  You’re awful helpful.”  She arched an eyebrow and let her glare burn into the lithe figure. 

“I like living.  Business with the Scoundrels – at least with Kai at the helm – acts against my interests.” 

Eva saw the indignant expression on Zykken’s face, but she decided to play out the hand.  “How’d he end up the leader anyway?

The Bith replied, “The other lieutenants killed the big boss and then each other.  He got back late with a lady friend—”

“Who totally got freaked out by the bodies,” Zykken added.

“Smart girl – it wouldn’t have worked out between you two anyway.” The Voidhound’s intensity swung back over to focus on Zykken.  “I think the warehouse would be nice in lieu of credits.  You can take your loyal staff with you.”  The Bith made a strangled noise, but Eva retained her laser-like focus on Zykken, who squirmed. “And of course, the identity of the person who informed you about us.” 

Zykken nodded slowly.  “Uhm.  Yeah.  I wasn’t attached to this place anyway.  It’s… the identity of the person came through a message, so I saved it on my datapad.”  Then Zykken’s color dropped another shade toward the stark white side of the spectrum.

The Bith, observant, dryly offered, “The one you always lose?”  Zykken nodded hastily.  The Bith slowly lowered his hands, eyes fixed on Bowie.  He carefully reached behind him to a desk and then drew out a datapad.  He held it out to Eva without any further ado.  “He doesn’t know how it works beyond surfing the holonet, getting messages, and watching pornography.  I keep any actual business transactions on my datapad.”

Eva gave the proffered datapad a look of disdain.

“I sanitize it before I ever touch it,” he clarified.

Eva nodded.  “Thanks.”  She took the datapad and easily latched her omnitool onto it in order to hack its contents.  “You got a name?”

The Bith gave Bowdaar and his blaster another look.  “Tomota.”

“You want a different gig, you let the Red Hulls know.”  Eva cast a look over at a quivering Zykken.  “Less stress, probably better pay—”

“You don’t have to sell me.  I quit.”  Tomota dropped his hands.  “And I can square things here for you.”

“Bro—” Zykken started, but then his mouth snapped shut as Bowdaar transferred his attention over to him.

“Why weren’t you in charge of something?  You seem clever.”  Eva roughly asked him as the omnitool started to shred through virus codes that had ended up on the datapad due to Zykken’s viewing habits.

“Again, life is very attractive to me.  Do the job, don’t say much, stay out of any direct lines of fire,” Tomota folded his hands in front of him, patiently.  “I don’t think Kai will give you problems if you let him go.”

“Not a single one, nope, nope, nope,” Zykken cut in immediately, vigorously shaking his head. 

“I can arrange for him to leave the planet with any loyalists?”  Tomota offered cautiously.

Eva let her skepticism play across her face as her mental internal gears whirred and raced.  Risha had to get in on this – and Akaavi needed to do a securities check.  “You take care of Kai here, then.  I’ll take your chain code for a little background check – it checks out, you send me over the codes of a few associates looking for work, we’ll take it from there, nice and easy.” 

Tomota nodded, reserved.

“Log into your datapad – it’s linked up to the main system here?” 

Tomota nodded again, hands reaching for his datapad in a holster he kept at his hip.

Eva sent out a hail to the Thief as Tomota logged in.  “Ship to Captain, I read you.”

“Corso, if I give you the Holonet address of a wireless datapad that is linked up to a larger network, can you hack that for me and do a little virus clean up along with some security patches – grab some critical data here and there so Risha has something to do this weekend?”  Eva blindly held out Zykken’s datapad back toward Bowdaar, and then took Tomota’s datapad with her free hand.

“Can do that, faster than light. Ready when you are.” 

As the datapad bleeped away as Corso dismantled its defenses, Eva regarded Tomota and Kai Zykken, eyes flat.  She kept her channel to the ship open.  “You have 10 hours to get him off the planet. You have 20 hours – one rotation – to flush out any uncooperative parties and secure this location before my securities expert comes in and does things her way.  She’s a Mandalorian.”

Eva didn’t have to say anything else after that.  Tomota nodded and grabbed Zykken by the shoulder.  As they disappeared down the staircase at the other end of the elevated office space, Eva sent out another quick hail to Virtue’s Thief. 

“Akaavi here. You worked fast.”

“Can you track them on the holocams, make sure they’re doing what I told them?”

“Affirmative.”  She paused as Eva heard a swift series of clicks and buttons being pushed.  “By the way, I erred in my initial assessment of the local security holos.  There are actual two networks.  One is the Cove’s own – I don’t think anyone is actually watching the data that streams through.  The other is, for the lack of better description, parasitic, leeching off the town’s streams and porting them to an unknown location.”

Eva frowned.  “You jamming that?”

“Not as easily. The port only happens when certain people set off the facial identity scanners of the local town.  The Rishii Risha mentioned is one. Looking back on ported signals, the Rodian was another.  The holocams tried to feed the parasitic stream when you appeared on camera, but I jammed that.  Currently, I’m jamming the data that is trying to be ported now because Zykken is out in the street.”

“Good, don’t let them know he’s being shipped off-planet.”  Eva tapped the side of Tomota’s datapad thoughtfully for a second.  “Can you get T3 to look at the stream for slicer hallmarks?” Every slicer had his or her way about doing business, certain quirks left behind due to speed and functionality within the slicing operation.

Akaavi replied, voice crackling over the comm link, “Already on it.  There are many misdirects.  It would be helpful is there were other streams of data to triangulate with.” 

Eva turned look at Bowdaar, who was quickly becoming bored.  “I’m coming back to the ship.  I might have another data stream to work with.”  As she clicked off the comm link, she said to her companion.  "Darth Marr.  Really?"

"He has a nice voice, for a humanoid."

**

Eva made a brief detour to the engineer room to speak to Risha prior to bringing the datapad to the lounge, where the rest of the crew awaited her arrival.

After running a purge on the files (given the history of the datapad), Eva’s omnitool procured the data segment desired.  The image flickered to life on the lounge’s holoviewer.  “Lana Beniko!”  Bowdaar cried out immediately.

“Stars, Bowie, you should warn people about spoilers.” Eva chuckled and kicked up her heels to watch.  She shot a look across the room at Guss.  The pool was back on; the Wookiee’s torch for the pretty blonde lady had not gone out.

To her credit, Lana had been well-disguised, her face hidden and her Sith robes gone, but she’d forgotten to shed her lightsaber, plus her eyes – always the eyes – gave her away. 

The holo was recorded in the warehouse where Eva had confronted Zykken.  “Kai Zykken?  Greetings.  I have important information for you.” 

The intonation of Lana’s voice changed.  “The Red Hulls may be the most bloodthirsty and sadistic pirate crew.  They’re heading toward Rishi.”

Corso shuddered beside Eva.  She silently asked.  “Remember that Jedi and Sith pair on Tatooine?  That’s the voice.  That’s the hypnotism thing.”

“Force manipulation,” Guss supplied.  “They suggest it to people with weak minds.  Or minds that aren’t expecting to get ambushed.  You can resist it if you’re ready, sometimes.  But it doesn’t work on everyone anyway – Cap’s got a hard head here.”

“Which is why they weren’t able to get me to shoot the other witch or get me to shoot you.”  Eva rubbed her fingers together as she watched Zykken’s eyes go glazed, even more mentally absent than usual. 

Lana continued, “I’m sure you remember the debt that you owe the Red Hulls. Quite a few credits…not something they’re likely to forget.”

Even through the haze, Zykken had the sense to look scared.  But Lana plowed onward.  “My droids are spreading word of their arrival. If you were to do the same, they might be too distracted to come after you.” 

Akaavi shook her head.  “No, they didn’t intend for us to get distracted.  They know the Captain too well.  The nav computer – she would want the head of the person that drew her to Rishi.” 

Eva raised a hand to rub at her temple. “Yeah, I know.  I’m clever.  They knew we’d find this, find Zykken, find someone from his card game that he ran his mouth to – but how did the news get to that one specific trader, that one specific Rishii, Qarrah?  He’s a civy, not a pirate or a wastoid.”   Eva stared at her cockpit ceiling for approximately thirty seconds.  Then she yelled down the hallway.  “T3!”

The droid rolled into her line of vision.  “T3 = here.”

“You know how the ship has been jamming local security cams?”

“Affirmative.”

“Can you actually slice in and get your tiny articulated claw around some footage from around the time stamps on this holo right here?”  Eva pointed at the frozen image.

T3’s dome spun around twice.  “Affirmative.  Target requested = ?”

“Her – can you find footage of her, Lana Beniko, talking to others?”  Eva was willing to bet the ship that Lana had an insurance policy on all of this --- she would make sure that even if Zykken left town, they’d have a trail to follow. 

T3 went to work.  Akaavi crossed her arms and stared at the image thoughtfully.  “Captain, she mentioned that her droids were carrying the message.  Did you notice crier droids on Rishi?”

Eva stopped and thought, then slowly shook her head.  “Bowie?” 

Bowie stopped to remember.  “On my way to the warehouse, yes, I saw droids.  I didn’t hear what they said.”

Eva turned her attention back to T3.  “T3, port my first request over to C2 once you’ve done the slicing in; he’ll be slower, but he’ll get it done.  New request:  feel like going on walk-about?”

“Affirmative.  T3 = cabin fever.”

Eva cracked a smile.  “You have recorded samples of Theron Shan’s slicing hallmarks?” 

“Affirmative.”

Eva gestured to Guss and Corso.  “You two.  Keep Akaavi on the line so she can watch your backs and intercept any non-Cove stream.  Go find a droid and overload it, then let T3 uplink to it.  He’ll figure out who remotely sliced in and where. That might render up enough data to triangulate where our friends are.  Then we pay our friends a visit, as they expect, but in the most unexpected way.”

Eva rose to her feet and practically skipped out the door. 

Guss watched her go.  “Oh boy.  I sense trouble.”

“And you don’t need to be a Jedi to know she’s up to something,” Akaavi filled in. 

Eva’s ability to hear the voices dissipated as she moved swiftly through her ship back toward the bolthole storage in the cargo bay.  Risha was below decks, coughing.  “I can’t believe you’re going to make us do this.”

Eva peered down into the darkness.  “It’s going to be fun.  You need a light?”

Risha stuck her head out, and the light on her helmet nearly blinded Eva.  “Borrowed this from the bar in the galley.

“Wise move.”  Eva turned away and blinked a few times, trying to restore her vision.  “You say anything about this to the crew?”

“Do you think I want to deal with half of them being excessively enthusiastic and the other half pouting?  No, not yet.  You can do the honors – or the dishonors in this case.”

Without a loud thump, a crate was heaved up next to where Eva’s feet were, and she took a few quick steps backward as a great cloud of dust kicked up. 

“Is that the first thing you wanted?”  Risha’s voice came up as Eva stooped to dust off the crate label.

A smile crooked across her face.  “Yes.” 

Before Risha could say anything else, Eva had lifted from her knees and staggered out the door with the crate down to her quarters. 

**

The internal ship chrono chimed out the hour.  The sun was disappearing quickly, and the night was starting here.  Rishi ran on a 20-hour rotation rather than a standard 24-hour Coruscant rotation, so bedtimes were going to be a trick to master, Corso considered to himself.  He sat in the lounge, listening to a local news broadcast, gnawing absent-mindedly on a toothpick – Bowie’s baked ribs were good but they lingered in the mouth if a person wasn’t careful. 

Eva had disappeared a couple of hours ago with one of the many crates Risha had been instructed to dig up.  Corso and Guss had gone out and blown up a droid as requested (blown up, overloaded, shot with a blaster and nearly got spaced by drunken pirates – same thing), with T3 along for the ride.  Corso liked the little astromech:  good sense of humor, for a droid.  Now he was off digesting all the 1s and 0s to make sense of the signals the Captain was looking for.

Corso had picked up on the fact that they were going to run a pretty big con.  The locals thought Eva was captain of the cannibalistic Red Hulls.  At the same time, they were trying to find an Imp spy and a Pub one.  Corso thought Theron was ok, but that Sith lady was not someone he was comfortable with.  He never liked Sith on principle, but his view on them was even dimmer after the experience of being mind-controlled by one and almost shooting Eva. 

Yeah, he didn’t like “hand-wavy magic tricks” when they were performed by bad people.  But now apparently there were bad Jedi, too, so what wasn’t wrong with the universe these days?  Corso didn’t like what this whole investigation had dug up over the last three quarters of a year, but he figured they should see it through. 

Corso Riggs never thought he’d be part of something that would stir the drutash castings in the galaxy.  He got into being a merc because he wanted to put things to right on planets – the people wanted to be part of the Republic, Corso wanted to help them.  For money, but he wanted to help them get what they wanted.  On Ord Mantell, he fought against separatists because they were denying the will of the majority of the planet to stay in the Republic.

Now here he was, with all sorts of criminals – and him being one now himself – ripping the wall coverings off everything to show a whole lot of stuff was never what it seemed. 

This just made Corso want to accelerate that Dantooine farm retirement plan he’d floated by Eva a few months before.  Go away, stick his head in the ground, and only come up to shoot varmints.  They might wear Imp uniforms, but they were still varmints. 

Corso had to admit, though, the Captain always had a good fight in her.  He did like she stood up for the little guy in the galaxy.  But golly, she had waded into something deep here – deep enough that the Republic SIS agent they’d been working with was now a fugitive. 

A criminal, like the rest of them.

Corso didn’t know what about Eva made people so eager to jump over that edge, seemingly.  Hell, he was one of them that leapt at the chance to adventure with her.  But then again, doing illegal things for good causes didn’t make them all bad. 

But who knew? Maybe in another six months it would all come out they were doing illegal things for a bad cause…

That had happened before.

Watching her go through that – all of that -- damn near broke his heart.  Corso wouldn’t have done that to her.  They’d all got fooled. 

Honestly, Corso thought it was all his fault for awhile.  He was the one who told her to go see Darmas about getting her ship back.  Stars above knew how it ground his gears that she took to him quick.  But that was Darmas’ game, luring ‘em all in. 

Corso bit down too hard on his toothpick and had to spit the pieces out in the ashtray in the lounge.  That was the end of that mindless entertainment. 

He made Risha feel dumb too, so Corso felt a whole hell of a lot better after she admitted that to him; Risha was way smarter than he was, more cosmopolitan and a lot meaner and suspicious. 

“Mean and suspicious” wasn’t a bad set of traits to have. It probably kept Eva alive long enough to set things right.  He approved, Risha didn’t, but that was life.   

Now he was smart enough to know that Eva wouldn’t have taken him up on an offer to get away from all this and be quiet and happy somewhere rural.  She kept right on doing what her parents did, but her own way. 

And speak of the damn Devil. “Holy mother of meteors, Eva, what the hell are we up to now?”

**

Ten Days Later….

It was too humid to sleep in his upper floor room in the safe house, even with the window open, stripped down to his briefs, so he lay awake, head angled just enough to look out at the starscape that marched by his window.  If he got up and sat at the window, he could see the Rishi Maze from here.

Eva wasn’t coming.

Normally, Theron actually got to kiss the girl before he scared her off.  Kiss her for real, not for a cover. 

Beyond that selfish, personal view, his mission just got harder.  He lost his operative.  He’d have to go out and do this himself.  He’d have to trust Lana out in the field too.  Lana had never gotten around to recruiting someone trusted within the Empire. She was new at this. 

Based on what she’d indicated, she had fallen into being Darth Arkous’ assistant.  Right person died at the right time, and up the ladder she went.  Same with Arkous. 

Lana was green.  Too green.  He’d gone out to Dromund Kaas before the last mission on Rakata Prime.  He’d met her in a bar.  He’d stuck her with the tab – he didn’t even have any Imperial currency with him when he confidently ordered his whiskey, drank it, listened to her, then disappeared into the bar scene.  She fell for an old ruse pulled by spymasters on trainees. 

They never traveled together.  They never traveled with Jakarro either.  Jakarro kept his ship unregistered.  Theron burned through all the old IDs he had collected in a drawer back at his apartment on Coruscant and changed IDs at every port wherever his sleeper freighter docked.  Theron didn’t ask Lana how she kept on the move.  It was better for him not to know.   Theron had managed to do the drinks trick to Lana three more times, vanishing into the crowd at whatever club or bar they arranged to meet at over the last few months.

She caught on by the fifth time.  Lana also took that opportunity to ask him if he’d seen the smuggler at all.  Of course not, he’d answered, the lie slipping off his tongue.  He’d seen a thief on Nar Shaddaa and had been temporarily married to a vapid socialite lady adventuress.  No smuggler anywhere near either of those jobs. 

Theron couldn’t have played off Katalla with Lana.  She would have looked like an Alderaanian deer in the headlights of a speeder the entire time.  Granted, she did have the knack of subtle mind manipulation, based on her work on the current op, so she could have just managed to get by being his … sister probably… who was a really bad pazaak player.

Theron kept to his meditation regime fastidiously whenever he knew he’d be around Lana. She was still an agent of the Empire, and he was still an agent of the Republic.  They hadn’t planned on their alliance lasting this long.  It should have been over by now.

There’d been reports that the Voidhound was immune to mind manipulation – Theron wasn’t sure if it was good propaganda at work or if she was really as Force-dead as she’d joked about.  Theron couldn’t tell if Lana had tried anything on the smuggler – even as a test.  Either Lana hadn’t or she had repelled it entirely with no effort. 

Then came Rakata Prime, the explosion at Carrick, and Trant’s revelation that nobody was safe, and nothing was sacred.  All of the major Imp spheres were infiltrated, and so was every aspect of the Republic.  Most painful of all, that included the Jedi and SIS, two institutions that Theron had revered. 

That’s why it was so useful to have her, playing out in the grey areas, detached from everything else.  She played her own side.  She was incorruptible from the Imperial or the Republic angle.  If Theron had chosen any other operative, then there would have been that risk, even if she had been a Jedi or the most dutiful trooper. 

Theron got up from his bed and moved toward the window and its large sill.  He sat there and looked out at the sky.  It was a change in scenery; it was pointless in terms of reducing the temperature. He looked up at the Rishi Maze from this angle.  He already missed Eva Corolastor.  Yeah, he missed her because he could trust her, because she could improvise, because she understood---

Hell, he just missed her.  Theron had to be honest with himself.  He’d never left her behind on Manaan. There were days and weeks where he didn’t think of her at all. 

Then he’d found Traitors of the Water, Pilots of the Air still stowed in his go bag, in a pocket he’d forgotten about.  She’d given it to him to read.  He’d been too polite to turn her down, but he’d never read it; he just activated his implants to read the datapad he’d stowed in his jacket pocket. 

Theron had read Traitors of the Water, Pilots of the Air no fewer than three times, cover to cover, in the months since Manaan.  It wasn’t as if he had anything else to read; he had to be careful about when and how he accessed the Holonet.  The first time he’d read it, he’d encountered her on Nar Shaddaa about a week after he finished.  He read it again, and like magic, she was on Katalla.

He had high hopes for the third reading.  Theron finished it over two weeks ago.  Then he’d sent the encrypted signal to the nav computer on Virtue’s Thief.  When he retraced his signal after ten days of no response, he found that the nav computer in question was now in a junkyard in the Inner Rim.  A repo squad had collected it, citing it as free-floating salvage.  Initially, he had panicked in silence in the main room of the safehouse on Rishi– Virtue’s Thief had been blown out of the sky.  She wasn’t coming because she was dead. 

Then he remembered who he was dealing with.  The junkyard did not report any other vintage XS Light Stock freighter parts collected from the area when he made a discreet inquiry as a restoration enthusiast.  Eva had figured out someone had sliced her nav computer, and in response the security breach, she spaced it. 

Theron admitted he shouldn’t have expected any less of a reaction.  Eva probably had some archaic device on her ship that would help her navigate as necessary.  But that had been his one shot, his gambit to coax her to come to Rishi.  Theron realized he’d been an idiot for messing with her ship, her extension of herself, as she once described it. 

It was an unwanted intrusion, a man hacking into something that wasn’t his.  He could see where she took offense.

Now Eva wasn’t coming. 

Lana thought Eva had sold them out.  They had to rush the op now, or else some authority would find them soon enough.

Theron had objected to that.  He didn’t tell Lana any of his theories as to why she hadn’t shown, beyond suggesting she had a better offer elsewhere – it wasn’t as if they were paying her or even could pay her at this point.

Privately, Theron was unsure as to whether the offense was enough to keep her away or whether something else – someone else – had caught her attention.  Then again, maybe she was waiting out there, waiting for him to ask her correctly. 

Nah, she wasn’t that petty, Theron dismissed the possibility.  Maybe she was just waiting, to make him fidget.

She wasn’t coming.  That was the logical conclusion.  That was the premise Theron had to work with.  He had to go it alone.  It wasn’t different from his regular work at SIS and his regular life.

Besides, that was probably for the best anyway.  Theron didn’t do this sort of thing well anyway.  He would have inevitably screwed it up. 

It’s just that it was so damn inconvenient for this op.

Theron tilted his head to rest against the old transparisteel window. No, it wasn’t just inconvenient.  He missed her.  He was missing out on her through his own actions. 

She wasn’t the first one he’d done that to.  She wasn’t going to be the last. 

Theron watched the night sky for awhile longer before heading back to his bed, but he had little hope for sleep. 

Chapter Text

10 days before

“Holy mother of meteors, Eva, what the hell are we up to now?”

Corso’s shocked exclamation brought the rest of the crew out of their places on the ship; they’d all been waiting for Eva to reappear with whatever great idea she had now.

The sight was a thing to behold.  Eva had made hasty work of a bunch of old uniforms she kept in storage and cobbled together something that looked like a cross between a skypirate admiral’s coat, an Imp officer uniform from about fifty years ago that was hacked off in different places so it’d be tolerable in Rishi’s weather, and a bunch of old Republic surplus.  The whole kit and kaboodle had been subject to a blood red dye pack. 

As if reading his mind, Eva said, “My bathroom looks like I murdered someone, but hey, I think this looks pretty good.”

Corso’s eyes trailed upward toward her head.  “Your hair –”

She done dyed it henna red and it was curly all over the place, tied up and away from her face with a blood red bandana.  Corso had a distant memory of catching her looking at a holo image of a woman with hair like that: her ma, Athene.  “Temporary,” Eva reassured him.  “Little dye, half-assed effort at a perm – makes me look a little more wild and weird than usual.”

“No Dermaplast,” Risha said from the edge of the room.  Her voice wasn’t harsh or nothing, just observing. 

They’d all seen that scar before, but Eva knew it made folks uncomfortable.  She always hid it. 

“Pirates like the Red Hulls need to look a little rough around the edges.” 

Guss gaped slightly as he came in from the galley with Bowie but he recovered quickly enough.  “Ok then.  Guess we’re going for death stick-chic over here.”

Corso finally picked up on Eva’s eyes – it did look like she’d done too much of … something.  The hollows in her cheeks were emphasized.

Corso felt a twist of his stomach as he thought about that time before Corellia, when she knew the truth and she couldn’t cope.

Eva’s voice cut through, a clear and cheery contrast to the memory that had lanced through Corso’s mind.  “Makeup, but that’s part of the cover, Guss.”    He silently looked up at Bowdaar, who was looking at the Captain with a mixture of interest and dread.

This all could go in a couple of directions.  Bowdaar peered down at Corso, and they came to a silent agreement: wait and see.

Akaavi finally came into the lounge, stopped dead in her tracks, sighed, and sat down at the lounge table next to Corso.  “Now what?”

Eva cued up a few visuals from her datapad and projected them into the holocomm screen.  “Briefing time.”  The first thing that popped up was an image of Rakata Prime. “So, just a reminder, the last time we saw a certain pair of spies, one of which was paying us to be on-call, was about three, four months ago.  Since then we’ve been sort of waiting for whatever the next big thing is.  And we got a few nice jobs, nothing to write back to Port Nowhere about.  Until someone decided to slice into the Nav Computer.”

Eva brought up a schematic image of the now-departed piece of hardware.  “Corso, you know how you mentioned gremlins, back before we went off to Rakata Prime?”

“Yes’m.”

“I think our gremlin was a Pub spy.  Sending us to Rishi was part of his game, I suspect.” 

Corso grunted; he suspected as much based upon her almost diabolically happy reaction the night they spaced the nav comp.  “And he’s smart, he tried to ping us again, see where we were at – somewhere on a garbage scow, probably.  He doesn’t know whether you’re still around or not.” 

Eva pointed at Corso.  “Yes. So now we let him dangle in suspense for awhile.  In the meantime, I’m thinking we should make the most of this opportunity.”

An image of Rishi was projected on the Holoviewer.  “We got a Pub planet that hasn’t been regulated by the Pub … ever, judging by the look of the place.  Rish, what was it you said earlier, about refining fuel?”

Risha studied the data scrolling past the screen.  “They have exonium here, but no refining facilities.  We might want to look into Port Nowhere gaining control of such facilities.”

“Seems like a lot of effort to get a piece of the action and then still have to haul it off planet.  Why haul it at all?”

Risha cocked her head, then her eyes sparked to life.  “Now you’re thinking like Nok Drayen’s worthy successor.”

Akaavi leaned forward and stared at the data with a critical eye.  “Conquering a planet – really?  With one ship?”

Eva shook her head.  “Nah.  That’s conquest and hard power, which I don’t want to do and something I don’t have.  I’m thinking a soft play.  The Republic isn’t paying attention –”

“Which is why I think you should take it, they’re being weak.  But how do you handle the natives and the Nova Blades?” 

Everyone had read the assigned Holonet articles; Akaavi was a rigorous security and intel officer, if Corso had to name exactly what she did on the ship besides look intimidating. 

Eva rolled a shoulder, the weight of the jacket apparently becoming less appealing by the second.  “The Rishii themselves won’t be a problem as long as we don’t mess with their religious lands – we don’t need to make a fight with them.  If they have land with exonium, then we’re obviously going to have to have a chat, but let’s get a hold of the planet first –”

Guss made a snorting noise.  “Captain, I don’t know if you should be fooling around with planets like the Hutts do.  They have massive overhead due to rebellions and unhappy campers because Nal Hutta ignores them and tries to avoid investing any money in them.  Which is why we have unhappy campers that join Voidfleet and you spend a little money to make the Hutts life miserable by ginning up those rebellions.”

“Everybody needs a hobby,” Bowdaar grunted.  He hated the Hutts more than anyone Corso had ever met.

Eva brought up a series of holostills of various Rishi environs.  “I don’t plan on owning the planet like the Hutts do.  I want Voidfleet to handle the exonium on this planet – mineral rights.  I want a piece of the shipping action on this planet – they got a lot of nature and scenery but they’re short on entertainment beyond cantinas and hookers.  Guss, you got what I wanted you to get?”

Guss pulled a small container out of his pocket and offered it to Eva.  Eva grabbed it and strode over to the lounge table in order to open it up.  Akaavi and Corso leaned back in their seats.  “This is what is being distributed on Rishi.”  She spread the contents of the box in a short but thick line on the table. 

Bowdaar growled at Guss.  “You had that in my galley – what is wrong with you, Fish Man?”  Bowdaar had rules about this sort of thing. 

Guss frantically pointed at Eva, who easily replied, “Yes, he did, at my request.  I need it as a visual.  As far as I’m concerned, after I’m done showing and telling, we can dump this into the water.” 

Corso recognized it at first sight.  It was … No. “That’s spice, but it’s not spice, is it?”

Eva nodded.  “What we got here is ryll cut with – something.  Could be Rishi sand for all I know.  I’m not having anyone stick it up their nose to try it.”

“Do you think it has any bad aftereffects?”  Guss asked very quickly.

The entire room sighed.  Of course, he would. 

Akaavi crossed her arms.  “Excessive amounts of ryll can cause hypoxia – starves your brain of oxygen and can damage it.”  She paused for a moment.  “I don’t think it’ll have any ill effects on you.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Guss cheerily replied, and he relaxed, eyes slightly glassy. 

Eva silently let her eyebrows arch at the exchange, then shook her head.  “Anyway.  Ryll is weak as far as spice goes.  You need a pharmaceutical grade lab to hop it up into something worth using in a hospital.  It doesn’t help they’ve cut it with something that probably is inert and possibly dangerous to the user.”

Risha slid an expert finger through the spice.  “The cut’s not good.  Look at how the particles cling together even after they’ve been combined – if you tried to divide this into even lines to meter the hit, you couldn’t do it.  The dosage is unpredictable.  That makes it dangerous and definitely not something anyone with two braincells would ingest.”

Guss was humming the theme to Shiv Starrunner: Intergalactic Man of Mystery again.

Eva nodded.  “So my angle here is that we fix the business here.  Get the dangerous stuff out, get something more standardized and regulated in.  Mix it with glitterstim – something easy and identifiable.”

Corso fixed Eva with a look.  “You want Voidfleet – all hootchied up as the Red Hulls -- to run spice through here.”

“Yeah.  People can buy it, if they want.  It’s safer than whatever the hell that is.” Eva gestured to the mess on the table.  “Safer drugs are a way into any market.”

“They’re also more powerful, little girl,” Bowdaar grunted.

Eva looked up at Bowdaar.  “And how much they take is their choice.  I’m not the galaxy’s mother.  We can tell them what min/max is with some precision.  Beyond that, it’s bad practice to kill your customers; we can control the flow, but if they decide to do something stupid with it-- ”  Eva shrugged her shoulders.  With that, she swept the dust back into the small container and handed it to Akaavi.  “Dump it.” 

The Mandalorian wordlessly and effortlessly slid out of her seat at the lounge table and walked toward the ship exit to throw it in the ocean. 

In the time it took for Akaavi to get rid of the low-quality ryll, Corso contemplated that grey area they were about to go play in again.  Eva had good business sense, and hell, at least they weren’t running weapons to bad people.  At the same time, kids got mixed up in this sort of thing every day.  Their choice, but kids are extra dumb about choices.  They were – Corso, Risha, Eva – they all were at dumb 20, 21, 22. 

He was the only one that was completely free of that monkey-lizard on his back.

He scanned the room quietly.  Guss was still drifting on whatever weak stimulation he got off the dust.  Bowdaar disapproved.  Risha’s mental calcucomp was whirring away, and Corso could almost hear the credits ring up. 

When Akaavi returned, she immediately asked, “If not hard power, then why the subtlety with soft power?  Why come under the guise of the Red Hulls and not the Voidhound herself?”

Eva blinked at the question, then she cast her eyes back up at screen.  “I’d like to live long enough to enjoy my criminal empire, thanks.” 

Corso swallowed hard.  He’d been so damn petrified the last time she got shot up.  The last time she got shot up – that mean there were other times, and yeah, there were. 

Akaavi was already back at her, though.  “You amass this strength, and you hide it.  You become the greatest smuggler in the galaxy, and you still hide your name.  You even have Risha masquerading as your double.”

Risha cut in, quietly. “We’ve seen that play out so many times – not just with her.  The Voidwolf was a known face, a known figure in the underworld and in the Imperial Navy.  How many people were gunning for him at the end?  My father was known throughout the galaxy, and someone got the right drink to him at the right time.”  She made a face at the spinning holo image of Rishi.  “We hid her tracks after Corellia. We screwed up once –”

“I screwed up,” Eva interrupted.

“—and we blew up the Imperial Stock Exchange to let them know what she could do.  We can’t play any one of our cards too many times.  We can’t pull ash-rabbits out of our Sullustan bonnets continuously.”  Risha turned a piercing glare on Akaavi, and Corso did not envy the Zabrak for a second.  “We remain hidden and patient. She stays alive.  We enjoy the profits – and people don’t come looking for her name or her face.” 

Akaavi could never be accused of cowardice – she stared right back. 

Eva resumed her briefing after an awkward pause.

“As I said, better spice is one way in here.  What I’m also looking at is the fact that Rishi’s population growth is pretty linear. But here’s the thing – what didn’t you see in town that you probably should have, given the time of year?”

The lounge was silent as Eva looked around the room. “Come on.  Little more than a month before Life Day. What were you doing?  What do we expect to see in ports?”

Guss blinked.  “Younglings. Kids.”  He turned to look at Corso.  “We were out shooting that droid before sundown.  Did you see any sign of kids?”

Corso shook his head.  “Population growth might be due to migration.” 

Eva swept her hand across her datapad.  “Nope.  Look at the birthrate statistics.  The Pub doesn’t come near here for regulation, but it does collect data from birth and death registries.” 

There were enough kids on Rishi for a schoolhouse with more than one room, Corso reckoned.  “Where are they?”

Akaavi shifted her weight.  “At home, likely.  It’s not safe, even in the daytime.  You’ve seen the type of adults they have lurking.  Beyond the tourist section of Raider’s Cove, this isn’t a place for children."

“Sad comment on the place when kids can’t walk around.” 

And there it was. 

Risha caught it the same moment Corso did, as did Bowdaar. “Oh, please, don’t ruin this with your do-gooder tendencies.”  She looked utterly crestfallen.

“If we’re going to make money off the dredges of society, we should do something to compensate,” Bowdaar retorted.  The Wookiee turned to face Eva.  “Let me guess your plan. You have a list, yes?”

Eva nodded, a smile tugging at her lips.  As Bowdaar began to rattle off the lines of her plan, they appeared on the Holoviewer.   “So we run drugs to get into their trade circles.  We run out bad gangs to win the people’s trust. Then the Red Hulls gain influence over people.  They listen to you.  Then you pull the strings on this planet.  Do I have this right?”

Eva silently gestured at the enumerated list that now appeared.  Yes, that was it.

Guss hummed slightly.  “What about the spies?  I mean, this is a Pub planet and you’re taking it.  Spy Guy might mind.  And Blondie might get jealous.”

“Republic doesn’t seem too attached to it, beyond the statistics it provides to say they have more people than the Empire in a given area. I have no idea why the Empire would be interested in it, other than to have it.  Arguably, it’ll still be Pub in name, if not in actuality – which is exactly what it is now.”  Eva put her datapad back into an interior pocket of the admiralty coat she wore.  “So, what do you think?” 

Akaavi crossed her arms and said nothing.

Bowdaar tilted his head and then grunted softly.  “We’re doing less bad than what’s already here.”  He cast a look over at Eva.  “And you said we’ll gain their trust.”

“Yeah, and not by the business end of a blaster.  Promise.” 

Risha rolled her eyes.  “I know an opportunity when I see one.  But talk to Rogun first.  I want to know why they never touched this place.  I don’t want bad surprises.”

Eva nodded, then she looked over at Guss and then to Corso, who had remained seated at the lounge table.  “Sound fun?”

Corso looked at her sidewise.  “How long you plan on setting up shop here, making the Red Hulls cover?  Before we get to tracking down the spies?”

“Week, ten days?”  Eva offered.

Corso slowly nodded.  “I’m thinking we use that warehouse you acquired as a homebase – a real pirate’s den.  Keeps business away from the ship.” 

Eva silently nodded, then looked to Guss.

“Do we all have to get into a ridiculous get-up like you?”  Guss asked.

“Well, now that you mention it –”

There was a collective groan – why’d he have to bring that to her attention? 

**

Eva was winding down in her quarters when Rogun’s hail from Port Nowhere finally came in.  She’d given the crew liberty to wear whatever they wanted, as long as it was red like the Red Hulls and somewhat adjacent to whatever she was wearing – as captain, she had to be most “ridiculous,” as Guss put it.

Eva thought all of her ideas were good ones.

She flipped the switch on her comm, and the familiar visage of the Changrian appeared on her desk.  “How’s tricks, old man?”

“What the hell happened to you?” was his greeting.

“You know the Pub connection we’ve been working?  Him or one of his connections gave us a rep of pirate cannibals, so I’ve decided to embrace it.”  Eva spun in her uniform and smirked as Rogun just stared at her.

“Why can’t you be a normal smuggler and just be drunk most of the time?  Handling your business would be so much easier without your tendency toward adventure,” he groused.  He frowned deeply.

Eva knew she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “Why no hand with the Minotaur?” she repeated her question from her earlier missive, her twirling stopped.

Rogun shifted his weight slightly.  “So, how’s the rest of the crew?”

“Rogun.”

“I always wondered how that new guy worked out.”

Eva pressed her lips into a thin line. “Out with it.”

Rogun visibly was stiffer than he was normally.  “You are not going to fucking like this.” 

Eva audibly and exaggeratedly sighed, conveying her impatience.

“Do me one favor though.” 

“Hmm?”

“Sit down.”

Eva’s lip curled back.  “What the kriff—”

“Sit. Please.”  Rogun stared back at her, and the demand came in the same fashion as his orders had while she worked for him. 

Hard to believe that was just five years ago now.

Rogun didn’t normally pull that authoritarian crap on her, so finally, Eva sat in her desk chair.

“Why no hand with the Minotaur?” Eva asked again, impudently looking up at the holoprojection of Rogun.

“Because Rishi’s human trafficking was Darmas Pollaran’s cover before his information brokerage.” 

Eva felt herself go cold.  The only source of heat seemed to be in her head, and it was venting out of her ears in torrents.  It took her almost a minute to find her voice.  “What do you mean?”

Rogun closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples.  He suddenly looked old, like he had when they were chasing each other across the galaxy, thinking they were enemies. 

Eva suddenly felt very young again in the worst way possible.  He was right to have her sit down.  “Rogun—”

 “When I first got to Port Nowhere as your guy, I sliced into the network and found a lot of his old data.”  He stopped and his lips quirked.  “A lot.”

She could just imagine what he found there.  It would have made life plus 300 years look brief.

“The slave routes were his.  He made them.  I don’t know when, probably back in his earliest days of infiltrating the Republic.”  Rogun shifted his weight again, putting his hands on his hips and staring at the floor. “When that became less profitable and less acceptable even in the underworld, he took on the information broker guise.  Kept up the slave rings for pocket money, but his front changed.  He was very well established in that role when you came along.”

Eva slowly asked, her voice not strong.  “Rishi  -- the Nova Blades here.  They run slaves.  But they’re pirates without –”

“Without flying through space?” Rogun supplied.  Eva nodded.  The older man – gods how he looked older now – scoffed.  “They’re the holding company, literally  -- Imp traffickers drop people off or the Novas abduct targets on Rishi.  Pub human traffickers pick them up.  Why waste money on starships when the sellers deliver to your door and the buyers pick-up?” 

Eva couldn’t look away from the holo image, even though she was probably burning out her retinas with how hard she was staring at it, eyes large.  “The Nova Blades were Darmas’ silent partners in the human trafficking ring.  They never figured out how they did it – how he got so many people and from where.”

Images of a courtroom on Coruscant filtered through her head.  Words, voices, tears. 

Rogun looked up from the floor, finally.  “Slavery has been illegal in the Republic for thousands of years.  But SIS kept finding rings in the Republic.  Most of them were chalked up to the Hutts – misdirection in some cases.  Darmas as an Imperial agent connected the Imperial and Hutt slave systems there at Rishi, and he brought fresh bodies in and out of the Republic to serve demands.  Things went to hell fast when you figured it all out.”

Her brain was reeling. “What did I do?”

What did I fail to do?

“When you took over Voidfleet – when you became the Hound – you told me and Ivory to cut the slave routes.”  Rogun fixed his gaze on her.  “You demolished the Nova Blades’ income then by over a third.

“Yes.”  That made sense.  Without Port Nowhere, without Darmas, they couldn’t get into the market. 

Rogun continued, “With all that Darmas had cooked up with Dodonna, the Novas were thinking pay day had arrived – slavery would be legal everywhere in the galaxy, and they, being a Republic planet with a system already in place, would soar financially with the slave auctions.  And then – you.”  

Eva raised and lowered her head once.  Images of her old life were running so fast through her head.

“Hey.  Hey.”  Rogun got loud over the comm and Eva looked at him.  She’d apparently zoned out.  “For the love of Alilia, please tell me your stupid ass hasn’t announced to the entire sector that you’re there.” 

Eva’s eyelashes fluttered as she pulled herself into the present.  “Nah.  Akaavi called me a coward, but I like not being shot at.  Hell, it’s how I got the job in the first place – I killed the right person.  I’m currently running as Captain of the Red Hulls.’  She gave her now-red hair a tug as it draped over one shoulder.  “That’s it.  Voidfleet wouldn’t be introduced to the equation until after the Novas are out.”

Rogun let out a breath he’d been holding.  “Good.  If Novas knew the Voidhound was among them, your head would be on a pike.  Not just for what you did to Darmas and their payday, but also for that slave market crash in the Empire.  That fucked them raw without a reach-around.” 

Eva distractedly nodded.  Then she asked, “You and Ivory knew about Rishi?”

“Yeah.”

She paused a moment and let the puzzle piece fall into place. “That was what he was prattling about.  He knew exactly how to start up that line of trade again.”  Eva paused for a second then asked, foolishly, “You didn’t think to say anything about that?”

“What the fuck was Rishi to you before this week?”  Rogun seemed to pull himself back.  “I didn’t think it would do you any good knowing.  Knowing more than what you did –”

“Rogun, I didn’t know.”  Eva felt the pressure in her head spike.

“I know,” Rogun quickly assured her.  “I meant the other stuff with Darmas.  Not—you know what I mean.”

“Yeah.”    Eva let her eyelids slide over her eyes as she tried to recalibrate.  “Back to the original reason I had you call.  You saw the data I sent over and the gameplan.”  She opened her eyes and leaned back to look up at him.  “Crew is on board for it, as long as we leave Rishi in better condition than it is now.”

Rogun snorted. “That’s a low bar.”  He flipped through the files on his datapad, which appeared from just off-screen.  “What do you want me to do here?” 

“Start doing the research on the exonium refinement – what would that take to happen here.  A modest shipment of spice would help too – glitterstim, too.”  Eva paused.  “Give me some recs on what a planet like Rishi would want, if it was fully functional.  Legit goods people would want here but aren’t prioritized because everything is run by a bunch of slavers – which probably explains some of the other shit we’ve seen down here.”  Eva rubbed her faced tiredly. 

Risha was going to so goddamn smug about being right. 

“Can do, boss.  I’ll let you go – I got stuff here to handle.”

“Roger.  Catch you later, Rogun.”  Eva stood up in order to reach over and end the Holocall.

“Eva,” Rogun said.

She looked at his image.

“I meant it.  Stay low and don’t mention the Voidhound.  They will come after you.”

Eva nodded.  “Understood.” 

Rogun gave her a last look before he cut the comm.

Eva stared at the wall behind her desk for a few minutes.  Now that the shock had worn off, all the old feelings were coming back.  The old bad feelings.  She just wanted to be numb to them. 

She only hesitated another moment before she decided that a job started tonight was closer to being done tomorrow. 

Eva went out.

She never made it back to her bed.

Chapter Text

10 nights later, in the morning

Theron Shan carefully closed the digital backdoor behind him on the Republic Fleet’s customs desk.  Kai Zykken had officially declared he had no goods as he boarded the space station.  He’d gotten off the planet without their knowledge.  Theron knew something had been up with the security holos and the fact he could no longer track Zykken.  Lana had been all too willing to blame it on the storms that roared through Rishi regularly. Gorro had shown up on the death registry as a result of a bar fight, but Gorro was an idiot in the first place; a short life expectancy was not a shocker. 

Add all that on to the fact that they were set to start the op in less than three hours, and Theron really missed ----

Click click – Theron knew the sound of safeties being flipped off.

“Hands toward Heaven.”  A decidedly pirate-y voice rasped behind them.  It sounded more like ‘-ands toward -eaven,’ the letter ‘h’ silent. 

Theron tore himself out of the mainframe he was plumbing through and gave a sidewise glare to Lana as he raised his hands. “You were supposed to be watching the monitors.”  Theron raised his eyes to the screen in front of him, focusing on the dark spots to try to see a reflection of whoever this intruder was. 

“Storm took them out.  And I’ve been having this wretched headache all morning,” she hissed.  Lana looked exceptionally pale and ill.  He felt some compassion, but now he was likely going to have to save both of them from these intruders.  Theron’s mind raced through the options. 

His bracers could fire off darts once he turned around and got a visual with his implants.  He assumed there were at least two armed intruders – two safeties.  It would be better if there was only one intruder duel wielding, but if they hadn’t shot one of them (probably him) in an ambush, that suggested at least two people.  He could throw himself at the intruders, getting in too close so that they couldn’t fire without hitting each other.  If they somehow had managed to take out the security holo (which he considered far more likely than a storm), they weren’t dumb and they wouldn’t actually shoot.  However, that also mean they had other weapons, such as a vibroknife for close combat. 

“Sith, that means up.” The voice grew impatient. 

“Just do it.  I’ll take care of this,” Theron muttered.  Lana did as she was told, finally.

“Now turn.  Slowly.”

Lana turned slightly faster than Theron, and he heard her breath catch in her throat.  He readied himself for a number of things, including Imperial or Pub authorities.

He wasn’t ready at all.

Two women stood with their blasters aimed toward them, cheery smiles plastered across their faces.  They wore clothes often affiliated with the pirates of Rishi, but with their own modifications specific to each woman. Both uniforms were cut to show off the female form.

Theron’s attention tunneled toward the obvious leader, the one with the captain’s coat.  Her hair was wild, long and teased up into a great mane, held back barely by a headband.  Her coat was open.  The uniform was made of the same thick cloth as the coat.  Theron could see the v-cut neck, the suggestion of a sleeveless shirt, cut high.  Theron could detect two blaster scars on the taut abdomen, a few lines across the body, the still bright pink scar sneaking out from the partly covered left shoulder.  The trousers covered to the midthigh, exposing skin between there and the bottom of the knee, before the boots covered the rest of the leg.  This exposed a blaster scar on one leg and clear, obvious signs of a burn on the other. 

There was a particularly nasty scar over the captain’s right eye.  It began just below the eyebrow, crossed the lid (he saw it when she blinked), and stretched down into her cheek.  The scar’s color had faded over the years, but it was an aberration across the pale, warm porcelain skin…

More than anything else, that scar had caused Theron not to recognize her at first glance.  It was when he realized the other woman was Risha Drayen that he realized—  “You’ve gone native.”

Eva Corolastor gave him a brilliant toothy grin, a true pirate’s smile.  “Hello, Hello.”  It sounded more like ‘–allo -allo’ in her guise.  Then, in her regular voice, “You put us on quite the chase.” 

Theron lowered his hands, and Lana did the same.  He actively fought the urge to charge toward her and grab her.  Whether out of annoyance or out of relief or something else, he was not sure.  For now, he let the professional cover of the SIS agent wash over him and played it cool.  “Guilty as charged.  Sorry if we put you out, but we did have to be cautious.”  He raised his chin slightly toward the front door.  “I’m guessing you’re to blame for our security cam being out….and I wonder if you’re somehow responsible for our slightly under-the-weather Sith here.”

“Oh, good, it did work. Guss will be happy his suffering wasn’t for nothing,” Risha pulled out a device and clicked it off. 

Lana let out a gasp of relief.  “What is that thing?” 

Risha pocketed the round device again.  “Old Mandalorian toy – they found it while we were at Rakata Prime.  It emits disrupting Force waves, apparently.  It’s enough to distract Force users, though it doesn’t actually do any harm – and if they know it’s there, they can likely overcome it. We tested it on Guss, of course, before bringing it here.” 

“Doesn’t affect Force-numb bantha fodder like me and Theron, though.  All the same, we wanted to get the drop on you two, bit of good-humored vengeance,” Eva said as she holstered her blaster, safety back on. 

 “We had to get you here without an obvious trail. Sorry we couldn’t be more direct,” Theron apologized.

Eva planted her hands on her hips and sighed overdramatically. “After all of this time, no contact, no signals, no Jawagrams – I was starting to think you didn’t care.”

She was teasing him.  Flirting with him.  He could go right back at her.  He pointedly made eye contact, catching her a little off-guard – for once, he pinned her.  “Is that a fact?  What are you thinking right now?”  The dark eyes eagerly engaged his, and he felt a frisson of energy up the base of his spine.

“Shall we focus please?”  Lana requested.   “The Revanites have gone to increasingly severe lengths to hunt us down.  We were unsure as to what to make of your silence.”

There was the unsaid fear that Eva had sold them out, at least on the Sith’s part.  The fact that they hadn’t been burned on Rishi indicated Theron’s caution.

Eva’s eyes lingered a second longer, but she broke the connection, reluctantly.  Theron was satisfied.  She shook her head.  “We got your message over two weeks ago.  Figured out pretty quick you were trying to give us a cover story once you arrived here.  We took the time to set up shop as an actual gang.”

Theron closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with his hand.  “Yeah.  That’s what I was afraid of: the Red Hulls are now real.  And you’re leading them.”

“Yarr.” 

Lana bit back a laugh.  “Oh, I do like you.  Cannibalism and all?” 

Risha rolled her eyes.  “Only on raids, apparently.  Fortunately, Bowdaar has a lot of large animal parts in cold storage at the moment so we can fake it for the time being.  What’s the point of cannibal pirates, by the way?”

Theron intervened.  “We need you to go after the Nova Blades.  They’re the major gang that runs things on Rishi.”  Theron reached back to strike a few keys on the computer, and it projected a few holo images of the uniform, their encampments, and their extensive conquests. As he turned to face Eva and Risha again, the two women exchanged a look.   He couldn’t decipher it at first glance – some part of a previous conversation, he supposed.   “They butcher entire crews and enslave anyone on Rishi who stands up to them.  They’re working with the Revanites.”

Eva’s eyes danced back and forth as she read through the screens.  “Been here for nearly two weeks, and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of a Nova Blade.  I don’t know the Novas.  They don’t seem to have any presence off of this planet.  I’ve seen all, sorts of others here  - White Maw off Hoth, for example.”

“Up until recently, the Novas were completely settled on this planet – had been for generations.  You remember our scare on the way to Rakata Prime?” Theron waited for her to look at him before he continued.  “I’m going to say that was them, with their ships wearing Revanite colors.  As for why you haven’t seen them here, I suspect they’re keeping busy with off-planet business and keeping it to themselves on base.”

“And using technology way beyond their means,” Risha murmured.  “The dragnet they used to stop the Thief – not standard issue for any law enforcement.”

Lana picked out a particular star map to magnify.  “The Nova Blades have changed tactics since they encountered you.  They’re now attacking trade lanes in very specific areas.  They’re in unmarked ships, so it does look like random strikes; we’ve only untangled it because of their transmissions.  Over the last several months, they’ve gradually re-mapped quite a bit of stellar traffic.  Very strange.”

Eva took a few steps forward to analyze the map.  The glow of the screen made the scar over here eye all the more clear to Theron.  It had been a nasty, painful wound.  “The Revanites have some major expenses.  Piracy would help them cover costs.  Bodies in exchanges for arms and munitions.”

Lana stroked her chin thoughtful.  “Perhaps, in part.  But the attacks seem to be patterned, though we can’t determine its purpose.” 

Eva flicked her wrist at the screen and brought up the list of conquered ships.  “At first glance…”  Her eyes scanned the data.  “I can tell you these ships aren’t with Voidfleet.  They are officially and openly affiliated with Republic or Empire.  There also aren’t any neutral or Hutt contractors in here.  The Revanites are targeting their own governments of origin.”  Eva’s eyes slid over toward Theron for a moment.

Theron liked a clever girl, and he liked a girl who remembered the pieces they’d started to put together on Katalla.  Voidfleet wasn’t in this game, but the Hutts….

Eva turned back to Risha.  “Think we can pipe this back to Port Nowhere, have Rogun take a look?  He knows how the wind blows.” 

Risha stared at the information for a moment. “Get me a data stick and we’ll run it through the Thief directly.  I have a few things I want to look at too.  Something … is wrong.  It doesn’t feel right.”  Risha sneered at the data; it was bothering her just to look at it.

Eva looked between the two operatives.  “Risha’s criminal instincts are better than my own skills on some days.  Give it to her.”   

Both Lana and Theron went to work to offload the data, quickly producing a file dump for Risha to plow through.  Wordlessly, she left the safehouse and headed directly back to Virtue’s Thief. 

Theron drew up a few more files more immediate to Rishi.  “Now we need to find out what the Nova Blades know.  Their computers could tell us everything.  However, directly attacking the computers would make the Revanites suspicious.  We need to disguise our real motives.” 

Eva turned to look at him.  “So that’s why you told everyone we’re pirates.  Our attacks look like a fight between gangs, instead of a targeted move.” She was smug.  “We’ve read it right then.  We’ve done a very convincing job of establishing ourselves here.” 

“Oh?”  Theron couldn’t help but let the amusement enter his voice.

“Yeah, it seems that the Red Hulls moved into an seaside warehouse – very nice ocean view -- previously used by the Corellian Run Scoundrels.”  Theron knew the one.  Of course, she had taken it right out from under Zykken.   “The Hulls are cutting in on some shipping.  They’re talking to some of the lower level gangs.  See if they can get a piece of the action.”

“Exactly.”  Theron was rather pleased with the chaos that he had already heard about.  “Before we send you for the main event, we should hit a few more Nova Blade holdings to solidify the cover story.”

“The Blades have a supply cache hidden nearby.  Once the Red Hulls have destroyed it, word should spread quickly.”  Eva turned her head toward Lana, attentive.  “We have some mutual friends who are excited to help with the task.  They’ll meet you in the field.”

“Jakarro and C2-D4,” Eva filled in. 

Lana nodded.  “We were planning on deploying today, rain or shine, since we were anticipating on being short-handed….but I think we can be patient, especially if the Red Hulls are as fierce and competitive as you’ve suggested.” 

Eva gave the spies a smile worthy of the pirate’s guise she wore. 

Theron finished the briefing.  “So, rained out til tomorrow.  I’ll ping T3 now that I know he’s on planet.  While you’re hitting the supply cache, we will keep spreading the word about your ‘grudge’ and see if we can find any other targets.  Sound good?” 

“Aye, aye.” Eva turned to follow Risha out, but Theron stopped her.  He was curious.

“Speaking of eyes, what happened there?”  Eva turned to face him, her right side illuminated by the computer lights.  Theron grasped her chin with his left hand, carefully, to get a better look at it.  “It’s not new, but I haven’t seen it before.”

Theron tipped her chin and gently moved her head to get a better look at that mysterious mark on her eye.  When it first happened, it must have been gruesome.  Eva was shockingly docile in his hands.  He could see the pulse in her neck, and he noticed it gradually quicken the longer he touched her.  Her dark eyes remained trained on him.  “What happened?” he asked her.

The eyes sparkled up at him.  “Violin string snapped when I was 12.  I got my eyelid down in time, but it scarred horrifically.” 

There was a pause as he studied the scar and its shape.  “That’s not what really happened.”  His voice was low in timbre. 

“No,” she whispered, all mischief as usual. 

He made a dismissive noise in his throat.  Fine, let her keep that secret.  “Why haven’t I seen it before?”  His fingertip trailed down the length of the scar. 

“I usually wear a layer of Dermaplast.  The Voidhound is meant to be perfect.  More personally, for Eva Corolastor a woman with a scar is so much easier to identify than just another girl in the galaxy. Having no identifying marks keeps the crew safe.”  Her voice was even and low as he continued his careful analysis of her face. 

Theron gently turned her face in the light again.  “You hide in plain sight.  You’re always in disguise.”  She nodded in his hands.  “One of these days, you’ll have to show me everything without the costume.”

Eva’s eyes opened wide as Lana’s voice broke in from across the room. “Not now and not here, Theron.”

Theron slowly realized what he just said as well as --   “That-that came out wrong.”  Theron let her go, quickly, eyes racing to find where Lana was.  She wasn’t even looking at them, her back turned as she worked at another console.  

“On the contrary.  I think it came out right,” Eva murmured to him.  Theron felt fire in his head as she flounced off, all too pleased with herself. 

**

“So, how long are you going to string them on?” Risha asked as they moved through the streets, back toward the ship, rain pouring down around them.

“Let’s run that data they gave you first. See what their capabilities are, and see how else are they getting people off this planet,” Eva replied. “If we can stop that in cooperation with the agents of the two major governments supporting us, they may not have as many objections as they would if I just said, ‘How much for just the planet?’”

Then she added, “You know, Rogun was right.”

“You’d be dead on sight here, if you were as you normally are?”

Eva nodded as they crossed the wharf back to the ship. 

Risha caught the edge of some emotion from Eva.  She didn’t know exactly what it was, but she pressed it.  “You somehow screwed them over before I met you?”

“Not quite.” 

“This got anything to do with the fact you’re sleeping in the cockpit again?” 

For anyone who knew Eva, her sleeping in the cockpit was a sign of trouble.  Eva had apparently done it when she was a child, on and off when her parents let her.  She did it for a long time after she first became captain.  She did it from Tatooine all the way until she became Voidhound.  She did it after the Port Nowhere episode.  Sometimes she did it when she was sick or upset about something – one or two nights, but she’d go back to her quarters when the trouble was past.

Eva had been sleeping in the cockpit, in the captain’s chair, for ten nights, since the night she dyed her hair and got them all to start construction on the Red Hulls uniforms.

“Yeah, it might,” admitted the Captain, grudgingly. 

Risha stopped dead in her tracks.  “Out with it.  I’m not going back to the ship with you until you come clean on this.”

Eva stopped and turned to look at her, with an expression that conveyed the sentiment of, “Really?” 

“I don’t do business blind” was what Risha said.  Eva was fluent in Risha-ese, which meant this translated to, “I’m worried about you, you idiot.”  Rain was coming down in buckets now.

“Fine.  You know how the Novas are into slavery – we knew that after Rogun spoke to us.”  Eva hesitated a second.  “Their silent partner prior to the Revanites was Darmas Pollaran.  This is where he trafficked the women from.  This was his cover before he got into sabacc and information dealing.”  She laid it out there – Risha had asked for it, and she got it. Bluntly, brutally. with no forewarning.

For a few moments, Risha felt as if the floor was pulled out from under her.  The cool, indifferent character with the superiority complex faded, as she watched Eva look around nervously, something so unlike her. 

For a few moments, Risha and Eva were back in their early twenties, realizing that Eva had –

“Nothing ever stays dead in this galaxy, does it?  Things just rise back up and haunt you forever.”  Risha managed to squeeze out the words in a rush. 

Eva sighed and reached up to adjust her bandana.  “Yeah, well.  Point is, they got plenty of reasons to be mad at me for that, plus the whole slave market crash we engineered.  The Voidhound is a head that would be hunted here, no due deference or interest in making friends at all here.”   As Eva’s hands dropped, she made a request.  “Don’t tell anyone on board.  They’ll worry.”

“Too late for me on that count,” Risha retorted, and that’s when she really knew that this upset her. 

Imagine what it was doing to Eva. 

“You know how Bowie will get.  You know how Corso will get.” 

“What about Akaavi?”  Risha asked.  “She went with you when –”

Eva was already shaking her head.  “No, she’ll do that Mandalorian jai'galaar thing where she watches me and is ready to swoop down screaming on anyone who even breathes in my direction….”  Then Eva stopped.  “Then again... she – you should -- ”

Eva, indecisive.  This was bad. 

Risha swallowed. “I’ll keep it to myself.  For now.  You start acting … You start making –”  Eva, indecisive; Risha, inelegant – it struck Risha how fresh the wounds still were. 

“You’ll tell someone if the situation fits. I get it.”  Risha noticed how the temperature had dropped due to the rainstorm; Eva’s breath was visible now.   “I need to get a hat, if this place is going to have this much rain.” 

Risha rolled her eyes at the non sequitur.  “Let’s get back to the ship then.”    The pair took a few steps forward before Risha stopped again.   “What about Guss?”

Eva stopped in her tracks too.  “He was there when I shot Darmas.  He saw the whole thing on Corellia.”

“Guss is cool?  For this?”

“Yeah, Guss is cool.”

All joking aside, much like his capabilities in the Force, the Mon Cal was randomly trustworthy. 

This was one of those random things. 

The pair continued back to the ship in silence, only to be met by a very excited little droid.  “Theron Shan = alive.”

“Not so loud,” Eva gently warned him, hand sliding over T3’s dome.  “You’re going to short yourself out, playing in the rain like this.”

“Shipment = arrived.  T3 = alone.  C2 = afraid of water.”

Risha chided him, “Yeah, C2 is smart and he has more exposed wires than you do.  The rest of the crew went to the warehouse?”

“Affirmative.” 

“The delivery boy gave you the security codes for the drop-off?”

“Affirmative.  Delivery boy = no access to ship.”

Eva looked around and finally saw the neat pile of waterproof crates left behind by Rogun’s agent.  “I know we say we like to do our own wet work, but this takes it to another level.” 

The two women – with a little help from T3 and C2, who stayed out of the deluge entirely – swiftly moved the Voidfleet goods into Virtue’s Thief cargo bay.

Risha noticed that Eva checked the spice shipment closely.  “Taking a packet for samples?” she asked casually.

“Hey, we got the first meet-and-greet at the warehouse later this week – I was worried this wasn’t going to come in on time, after all that talk I did with them last week.  We have potential buyers.  Would you circulate something without trying it?” Eva asked.

“Apparently, they do, based on the ryll Guss picked up.  Then again, they may be idiots like Guss.”  A smile played at her lips.  “Though I will say I don’t think they’ll be able to resist this stuff.  It even looks nice in the packaging.”

Eva gave the packet of spice a long, hard look.  Then she turned to Risha.  “You still got a small stash, or you need a top up for your weekend getaways?” 

Risha contemplated the answer as she watched her captain carefully.  “I’ll check.  What about you?”

“Gotta look the part of a free-wheeling spice dealer, right?” 

“….Right.”

There were a few moments of silence.

“Quality assurance?”

“Even better excuse.  But let’s hurry up – we do have a schedule to maintain.”

Chapter Text

Eva’s comm went off at 0700. 

She only knew it because the buzz woke her, and then the ship’s chrono indicated 0700 with seven quiet, almost-silent clicks that only the captain, who was sleeping in her chair, sock-wearing feet up on the dashboard, would hear. 

Considering she’d crawled into bed at 0400 (thereabouts, maybe), the buzzing wasn’t particularly welcome.  Blindly, Eva sat up in the pilot’s seat of Virtue’s Thief and felt around the dashboard for wherever she’d slung off the unit last night. 

Neighbors came to visit the warehouse. Business was already starting, way ahead of the meet-and-greet she’d scheduled.  The rest of the crew had done a good prep job on the warehouse, so it worked out.  This was good for the Voidhound, good for Voidfleet, good for business.  But that was the night job.  The day job apparently was really a “day” job.  Before Eva cracked open sand-paper eyelids and took a breath through an all-too-sensitive nose, she made a bet.

Upon opening her eyes and taking the first deep inhale of the morning, she found she was correct: Lana Beniko was the early riser of the two spies.  Theron was punctual, she had guessed, but Lana was brutally early: a 0700 comm buzz for a 0900 meeting. 

0900 meeting – who the hell does that when she gave ‘cannibal pirates’ as a job description? 

Kriff.

Eva knew Sith were cruel, but damn.

Eva ran through the crew list in her head.  Akaavi might be sufficiently awake and the least hungover of the bunch, but 0900 was a big ask.  Bowie was not a morning Wookiee, period, no matter how sober he was. 

Oh, yeah.  She could always ask the newest member of the crew, who might actually bounce off his suspension in joy.  Additionally, he was incapable of being hungover from sentient substances (as far as she knew). 

Eva pulled her blanket a little tighter around her shoulders as she stood up and dragged herself along the hallway of the Thief, right shoulder digging into the wall.  She couldn’t lean left or else she might trip into the crew quarters’ door.  Her door was locked, so she dragged herself along that side instead. 

It wasn’t the amount anymore.  It was the comedown. 

T3-G2 sat in the engine room, communing away with the computer in there.  It had become the droid’s hobby project to update it as much as possible without a) frying the museum piece; and b) actually getting caught updating it, since T3 was supposedly MIA with rogue spy Theron Shan.  When not working on discreetly updating the Thief’s systems as much as it could bear, T3 had the opportunity to roll around planetside with Eva, since the Pub was not looking for a unit with a female owner, let alone a non-descript brunette in seedy establishments.

He even got to use his shock taser attachment once.  “That = awesome,” was his summation on the night.

“You feel like seeing your boss, T3?”  Eva asked, her voice crackling.

T3’s head spun.  “You = rough.  Night/morning = busy?”

“Yeah.” Eva leaned her shoulder hard into the doorframe of the engine room.  “You got any identifying marks that would attract attention here?  It’s one thing when you’re clowning around with Guss and Corso – they’re distraction enough.  But just me and you?”

T3 whirred for a moment.  “T3 = generic chassis. Technology scanner level = high to detect SIS components.  T3 = spy also.”   There was a slightly hopeful boop.  “T3 = stay at hideout?”

Eva had to smile. He missed Theron.  “We’ll see.  They had an A7 unit rolling around in there.”

“T3 = take him.”

“I bet you could.”  T3 was fun before, but now he was a real party by himself after the adjustment to his personality board.  “So you think you could roll through Rishi’s main drag without getting a second glance?”

“T3 = boring compared to Red Hull Captain.  Grease and dirt = costume?”

Another chirp, and Eva stifled a laugh.  “You go ask C2 to dirty you up a bit. He probably has something disgusting lying around.  I’ll get into my kit and meet you on the dock.”

“Affirmative.”  There was a pause for a moment as T3’s lights flashed, then he ventured in a low buzz. “Smuggler = sick?”

The guilt and shame only stung for a second.  “Nah, I’m fine.  Don’t worry.”   Eva gave the droid another kind, tired smile and made her way back to her quarters.

As the door closed behind her with hiss, the smile dropped, replaced by an irritated scowl.  If a droid could pick up on it, then the spies would too.  No good.  She only thought about it for a few seconds before making the decision.  

Hell of a way to start the morning, barely three hours after the night had ended. 

**

The knock that came at the door of the safehouse was nearly cute.  A syncopated rhythm that begged for a response – Theron had to shake his head, knowing exactly who that was.  He was up to his eyeballs in datastreams at the moment, quite literally.  “A7, grab the door for our operative, would you?”

“Agent Shan = not cautious.”  If A7-M1 had a voice, Theron imagined it would be that of a tweedy, indeterminately middle-aged accountant that just was disdained at everything that crossed its path. 

Theron would have rolled his eyes if it wouldn’t have booted him out of the mainframe his implants had wedged him in.  “She just knocked out the first half of the Mando nursey rhyme.  How many people are going to do that, wait for you to open the door, and then blast you?”

A7 made a profoundly disgruntled noised and likely clicked something under its proverbial breath as it rolled to release the security lock. 

There was a bizarre, spitting-like noise that came out of the droid next, like a loth cat who’d had water dumped on it.  Theron was really going to have to get out of that file dump now.  A7 hissed. 

“Hey, he’s on his good behavior.  You better be the same, or you can switch off.”  Theron closed his eyes as he extracted himself out of the Holonet. Nothing like starting morning with some aborted work and Eva Corolastor telling an Imp droid to do something highly offensive to itself.

He’d been sorely tempted to order that over the last few weeks.

Theron heard A7 roll off in disgust, huffing as only a droid could.  As his vision returned to normal, he felt something nudging his leg.  Theron’s eyes blinked a few times as he looked down into the darkness, only to find a familiar optic circuitry set looking back at him.  “Hey, T3.  How’s tricks?”

T3 didn’t respond; he spluttered happily and roved around in a small circle.  Theron crooked a grin over at the droid then looked up at Eva, who was in full pirate guise.  “He wanted to see you.  Sorry about your trousers.”

Theron stared at her for a second, confused, before he looked down.  There was a very clear T3-shaped grease mark on him now.  “Not like I’m being seen in public anyway.  He wanted to be disguised?”

“How’d you guess?” Eva’s eyes were bright as she leaned back against the strategic table he and Lana had set up. 

“He already had a personality before you got to him; he was the one who shut down Republic Fleet on his own initiative to keep you from leaving.”  Theron’s grin returned as Eva tossed the wild red hair she’d chosen for her disguise, a smile slicing across her face as well.

Before she could respond to him, Lana appeared in the room, 0900 on the dot.  “Good morning. Here on your own?”

Eva used her chin to indicate T3.  “Brought Theron his droid.  You might need to keep him separated from yours.  That A7 seems … territorial.”

“A7, behave,” Lana said sharply, and there was scuffling noise in the next room.  Lana went to the strategic table and started to pull up data and maps to show Eva.  In the meantime, she attempted to make small talk.  “Droids do forget their places, at times, especially when they aren’t in system-standard environments.  I’ll have to have it reset once all of this is straightened out.  They might grant me a new one, given this one’s age.”

Theron watched silently as Eva’s smile dissipated as she listened to Lana.  He had started to suspect she was one of those droid rights people – not that there was anything wrong with that, but it wasn’t exactly popular or convenient for governments to consider recognizing several billion additional citizens, not to mention to make requirements as to what counted as “sentient.” 

That was more of a Republic problem, honestly; the Empire still had slavery, and droids slotted somewhere beneath them.  If a place didn’t consider sentients “real people,” what hope did droids have?

Eva spoke next, with less liveliness than before.  Her affect was transitioning to the flat one she used as the Voidhound, though she didn’t adopt all the mannerisms and quirks.  She sailed right past the droid issue.  “So to what do I owe being roused out of bed at 0700 after finishing my cover as Red Hulls captain at 0400?”

Lana turned to look at Eva just as thunder rolled outside.  Lana’s yellow eyes roved toward the ceiling momentarily.  Theron couldn’t blame her.  The first time it rained here, both of them had spent most of the night hastily trying to patch the roof.  The old pace was watertight now, but it had taken more than one storm to figure out where all that water was coming from.  “Well, based upon the weather forecast, our run on the caches won’t happen today.  Rishi’s atmospheric flight controller system is non-existent, and Jakarro won’t take The Warthog up unless he has visibility.”

Eva smirked at the use of the ship’s christened name.  “So what’s the plan for today then?”

Lana brought up several maps.  “We’re looking into alternative sites as well as concerns that we may have to address.  This can include, but is not limited to, the Nova shipping patterns off-planet.  I assume you have some idea?”

Eva didn’t answer immediately, and that caused Theron’s head to turn.  When she did answer, her eyes had become shark-like in appearance.  “I am working to meddle in some of the business, but not all of it.  What are you getting at?”

Lana brought up a few schematics.  Theron immediately recognized them due to his work in human trafficking:  shipping containers that could support sentient life for a limited duration.   “I don’t believe you are particularly interested in this end.”

Eva stared at the image before her.  “No.”

Lana clicked through some data.  “As you’re very much aware, slave trading in the Empire has been suspended for the last few months, with a few more to go.  That seems to have led to a crisis within the Novas.  Based upon interceptions, we know they’re affected by this, but to what extent is unknown.  We have seen these containers on Rishi around the Nova sites, so this is still an active trade.”

Theron cut in here, smoothly.  “We believe the Empire would have more information, as the Novas tripped the Republic’s radar occasionally, but never enough that I or one of the agents I knew got involved with busting up a ring or a route.  Neither of us can log in with our security credentials under the current circumstances.  The same goes for the droids.”  Theron tilted his head slightly, fixing her with a careful gaze.  “Would it be out of the Red Hulls’ character – as you’ve established it – to be into the slave trade?  To inquire about it? To move a few sentients, but to a contact I still have that will cut them loose?”

Eva turned her eyes on him, and frankly, the longer she looked, the more his flesh began to crawl. That was the Voidhound staring at him, and she wasn’t particularly likable.  “We’re focused on other matters.  Slavery would be inconsistent.  It’d also be too much to demand of the crew.  You know why, even for playacting.  We’d rather just break the ring, no dancing around.”

Theron nodded.  He looked down at the console, as if to bring some other data or maps (which he was).  It also bought him another moment to think.

Something wasn’t right here.  He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something seemed off… with her. They’d spoken about this sort of thing before – it hadn’t set this off sort of response.  Not looking directly at her, his hands played over the console, and he brought up the map of cantinas in Rishi.  There were more of those than any other building in town.  “You can keep an ear to the ground on that, though, right?”  Theron’s eyes rose up from the console to meet hers.

Eva nodded.  “We can do other things to convince others of our sincerity of getting into Rishi for the long haul….”  Then there was a curl of the lips, and the pirate emerged slightly.  “Though that depends on how hard the law will be looking at us on this matter.”

Theron regarded her carefully before moving on with the briefing.   “Cantinas are the main source of legal money generated on Rishi.  The alcohol they serve – of questionable origin, but the liquor licenses are Republic-recognized.”

Eva was quick to pick up.  “Alcohol trade – you want the Red Hulls to dabble in that?” 

Theron looked sidewise over at Lana.  “We were thinking that could be a legitimate front for the Red Hulls – alcohol distributor – if I still had my resources.  I don’t, but I can probably forge something for the time being.  Temporary.” 

Eva hummed contemplatively.  She turned away to think and to pace.  Theron let her.  She knew the business end better than he or Lana did, and if she didn’t know, she had Risha Drayen and Rogun Matt’rik in her corner.

Suddenly, Eva spun around to face the two operatives.  “I can do a lot more than the alcohol trade if I don’t have to worry about the authorities coming back to us once this op is over.  A lot more.”

Lana’s eyes narrowed.  “What do you mean?”

Eva gestured with her hands as she walked back toward the strategy console.  “People make their own choices, you know?  So I just supply the demands of the consumer.” 

Everything dawned on Theron in that moment, but he let her finish.  His temper surged as she drew near, the angle of approach causing her to be bathed in an unnatural blue light from the console.

Smugglers.  Why did he have to pick a smuggler?

Eva carried on, casually.  “I just don’t want invest so much in your cover story that you end up having to pay me back later, once you two are good with your governments again.  At the same time, I don’t want your government looking too hard at what I did to make your op a success and have it bite me.”  She spread her hands in front of her.  “It’s easier if I just…mop up here, uninterrupted.” 

“You’re asking us to cede this planet to Voidfleet, essentially.”  Theron’s voice was sharp.  “And you want to run vice through here.”

“Yeah.” Eva’s response was simple and direct, as if she’d just asked for a few credits to buy a soda. 

Shrewd.  Definitely unacceptable.  But shrewd.  “What are you going to do with a planet?” Lana asked her.

“Leave it in better condition than the Novas have or the Hutts would.  It’s not like the Republic has paid it any mind in over 300 years.”  Eva shrugged.  “It’s not a loss for the Republic.  It’s not a gain either.  Same goes for the Empire, unless you two want to squabble over your census numbers.” 

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”  Lana stepped back from the table, indicating that she’d feign ignorance of any such arrangement between a Republic agent and his asset.

Theron shot her a dirty look as she withdrew.  Lana didn’t react – this was not her fight.  Fine, then.  “Can you give us a few minutes?” 

Lana nodded and withdrew back to the other room on the lower level. She’d return within ten minutes, so this conversation had to move quickly.

As Lana’s footsteps faded away, Theron turned his attention back to Eva.  “I thought you said you wanted to destroy the Hutt Cartel, not emulate them.”

Eva tossed her hair back over her shoulder, the blue cast making it almost purple.  “This isn’t like Hutt Cartel.”

“It started somewhere.”

“They never had good intent.”

Theron nearly burst out laughing.  “Running drugs is ‘good intent’?  We have to ruin the planet to save it?  Are you seriously going to try to play that line on me?”  He was incredulous.

“Have you seen the drugs they’re using here?  They’re dangerous, even by criminal standards.” Eva gestured with an open palm to the world outside. 

Theron’s hand rubbed at his forehead momentarily before dropping to his side. “It’s a slum planet beyond the tourist sections, Eva.  They don’t even let their children out during the daytime, not without a guardian with a blaster.  You bringing ‘better’ drugs in here is not going to help that.”

“Getting rid of the slavery will.  Getting rid of the Novas will.  Getting rid of low-quality spice will. You let the Red Hulls become something here—”

Theron interrupted her, “It was meant to be a cover.”

“Not anymore,” Eva retorted.  “Voidfleet wants a piece of the action on Rishi.  You want me to be your blade here to cut out the Novas and the Revanites.  It’s a trade – and you said you didn’t mind extracurriculars.” The dark eyes sparked, and Theron could hear unsaid words laced into her phrasing.   Then she stepped in toward him.  The blue cast disappeared as her angle changed, as she directed all attention toward him.

That made him angry.  She wasn’t going to play that card on him today.  Theron stepped back, saying, “So this is your payment. Me giving you a pass to do this is your payment.”

“I’ll still help you and Lana here.  I’m not a huge fan of zealots trying to take over the galaxy.  All I want you to do is treat me like any other crimelord who would have moved in here after your business was done on Rishi.  Because someone would have.  Someone will. And if it wasn’t me, you wouldn’t care.  The Republic wouldn’t care.”  Eva planted her hands on her hips. 

Theron had to admit she was correct. The Republic wouldn’t care about Rishi after this op was over, to be honest.

Unless he included her in the report. Then Saresh would be all too interested in the Voidhound again after this if he did, looking for a way to pull more service out of her in exchange for a pardon, a discount.  He remembered that holovid conversation in his intel collection about her.

“It’s one thing to guess or anticipate that someone would fill the void left by the Novas and their trade routes.  It’s another thing to guarantee it,” Theron replied gruffly. 

Eva hitched up her shoulders slightly. “Better the devil you know.”

Theron let his mind glide over all the grey areas they had already played in together.  Not just the personal end.  The real death of Ivory, for which technically she’d had a pardon years before she did it. The theft he’d let her get away with on Manaan…which had ultimately served civilian rim colonies that the governments had forgotten about.  The Makeb scheme she’d enacted, with all the drugs, murder, and fratricide involved. He didn’t count the Imp Market as grey; that was a bloodless victory.  The grave robbing near Rakata Prime – “research” that couldn’t be carried out by a museum in this galactic situation… and he had determined she actually had turned over the artifacts she’d promised, minus the fun ones she and her Mando had kept back.  The destruction of the cyborgs right under Lana’s nose.

Theron wouldn’t have had this problem if he’d picked a devoutly responsible Jedi or a perfectly orderly trooper. 

But she had the ghost ship.  But she achieved objectives.  But she was something the Revanites (and the Empire, if they ever got out of this) could not anticipate. But neither of his other Pub-inclined choices would be able to sell this pirate thing to the extent she did.  But she had taken care that nobody innocent got hurt.

Until now.  “The drug trade and any other illicit thing you have in mind will have collateral damage, and you will be actively a part of that,” he sternly pointed out to her.

Another roll of her shoulders and a shake of her head came in reply. “That was always going to happen during any sort of transition.  Me, someone else.  At least you know there’s an endgame with my crew – Bowie, Corso, and Guss wouldn’t have it any other way.  And Voidfleet won’t abandon this place after we’re done here.”

Like the Republic has, Theron could hear the unspoken criticism in his head.   There weren’t even government-run drug and alcohol clinics on this planet, despite the high number of substance-related permanent disabilities, deaths, stillbirths, and birth complications. 

Rishi really was just census numbers to whoever possessed it.  The Empire wouldn’t give it more care.  Nor would the Hutts.

Theron stared down at his datapad, a snarl on his face.  He didn’t like this.  Lesser evil.  Theron made those calls before – let something happen for the greater good.  Nothing like some other people (Jace, Trant) had done, but still.  Theron had the idea that “bad things happen when good men do nothing” drilled into his head as a youngling.  It was de-emphasized at the Coronet City Military Academy and simply not mentioned during the course of SIS training – bad things had to be allowed to happen, sometimes. 

It turned out it was harder to make Theron a simple soldier than it was to make him a Jedi, even with all his limitations.  It’s why he did what he did, even if it meant breaking protocol. 

But was the “do nothing” in regard to permitting Eva to do her work?  Or was it insisting that the situation on Rishi remain the status quo?  What was the Republic doing here?  Nothing.  Was letting Eva operate here the act of a good man, allowing a different action to occur for the first time in 300 years?

Was he doing something or nothing?

“Once you make it a bit more habitable around here, are you going to bring in the really controversial stuff?” he asked her.

Eva’s head tilted, waiting for clarification.

“Like datapad books, actual learning and medical facilities, and educational holofilms?  And that’s not a euphemism,” he clarified.

Eva’s lips pulled into a thin smile.  “As I said, I have some partners that insist on that sort of thing.”  The smile disappeared as quickly as it came.  “I don’t plan on involving you in anything I’m doing, extracurricularly.  You just should know what --”

Theron took a step forward and cut her off.  “Alert me if my asset is in danger – losing you makes my job a lot harder.”

Eva looked up at him, and he was suddenly aware of how close they were, again.  “I know I’m not dealing with nice people. I’m telling you because the right hand should know what the left is doing.  You don’t have to--”

“Make the call anyway,” he insisted. Theron let his gaze drift toward the pink skin that covered what little he could see of her left shoulder.  “I think the line between your cover for my op and my op won’t be as neat as you hope it will be.”

It had been months, but she was still healing from being shot through by a high-powered blaster rifle, because of an op he put her on – not because of one her extracurriculars.  That had been clear.  This was going to be less so.

The op needed to happen.  Her presence eliminated a lot of logistical nightmares for Theron and Lana. 

“I think you’re right,” Eva murmured.  That presence was also now achingly close.  He wondered about how her entire shoulder looked. Her face was perfectly angled—

Theron’s professionalism flared up at that moment.  “We’ll finish this later.  Lana’s waiting.”  He turned to the silent T3 unit in the corner.  “Go get her for me, would you?”

When he returned his eyes to her, Eva mindfully stepped back, an amused look on her face.  He shrugged. “He’s already heard everything else going on between us.”

“Everything” didn’t just encompass the conspiracy.

**

From his bedroom window, Theron could see across the rooftops of Rishi, right to the warehouse where the Red Hulls were operating out of.  He couldn’t help but glance out at it, even though the datapad in front of him contained far more useful information.  Although he couldn’t access anything requiring a login, he could go through T3’s uplink to the Thief and at least get up-to-date on basic galactic information without worrying about being traced. 

The meeting had proceeded swiftly thereafter.  The alcohol distributor cover was deemed unnecessary; they’d save Theron’s one shot at successful forgery for another time.  For now, the Red Hulls were to continue to integrate into the underworld of Rishi – basically, the entirety of the planet.  The first clear day they had, caches would be taken out.  If the slavery hub was ever found, it would be cleared out; Theron’s connection could remain on standby for the time being, with no need for the rouse of Red Hull participation in the slave trade.  The contact was still willing to get those slaves off planet, with or without a cover.

Theron still couldn’t believe Teff’ith had taken his holocall after SIS had hassled her at Olaris Spaceport.  Granted, he’d disguised it as a call from one of her suppliers, but all the same—the fact she didn’t hang up at the sight or sound of him was surprising.  He wondered how she’d caught wind of his current state – certainly not from Eva, or else there would have been a barrage of harassment about his romantic life, alongside the standard verbal lashings he got about his stupidity, his stupid clothes, and his stupid hair within the first five minutes of the call. 

It was good to know that she would still take his calls, even if she did mostly despise him. 

At any rate, the meeting ended with Lana scheduling for another one at the same time.  There were only so many hours in a 20 hour day, and it seemed they’d all be cutting corners on sleep.  Eva had tiredly affirmed the meeting, with a memo to T3 that naps were to be written into her next contract. 

Theron’s datapad buzzed.  Incoming message from the Thief, which was apparently relayed through C2 who was at the warehouse. 

To: Spike

Theron blinked. Oh, right.

From: Fishman

That one was more obvious.

The Holonet message had no text but a lot of stills from the warehouse. Theron had to admit, they’d set it up nicely.  They’d concentrated the shipping goods to one half of the warehouse, leaving a wider open space for tables.  Some seemed to be set up for credit-ante games: deliberately nothing serious.  There was a make-shift bar in the corner, no doubt populated by the extensive holdings of Virtue’s Thief until Port Nowhere sent out its errand boys…

If it hadn’t already; Theron was cognizant that Eva and Co. had spent well over a week prepping this.

The next few shots seemed to have been taken with some discretion; these people weren’t fans of surveillance for obvious reasons.  It was darker, the lights dimmer, and a haze of smoke obscured parts of the room. 

Theron had to stifle a laugh at the next image.  Smugglers were ridiculous.  She could be absolutely ridiculous.  They’d set up a sort of queen’s table back against the wall of the warehouse, close toward the exit out to the docks, and there Eva sat, enthroned.  There was no better description for the gaudy chair she was in and how it was slightly elevated – that, paired with the outfit, the context, and even the overdramatic makeup she wore for the role caused Theron to close his eyes and shake his head.  She was having an animated conversation with Corso to her right, smoke puffing from the left side of her mouth on occasion, cigarette in her non-dominant hand.  After a few stills, Akaavi leaned in from the left. 

The next few stills, the girls were gone.  Theron assumed that they’d gone off to the docks to do whatever.  There seemed to be a crowd heading that way.

As he reach the last still, he had to study it to register fully what was going on.

Oh, stars.  Really?

The last frame Guss had sent him, Eva had taken a fighter’s stance on the docks.  She’d abandoned her coat, leaving the self-tailored red uniform on her, her hair pulled up and away with the same bandana.  She was circling around the far side of a circle, knife in hand.  On the near side – not more than a few feet from where Guss had taken the shot -- was a rangy, tattooed man dressed in tones of grey, black and white, also holding a knife.  His posture was more relaxed, more practiced than hers.  His blade was –

Theron’s eyes went back to her – yes, he’d drawn first blood on her, right arm. 

Which explained why she’d swapped her knife to her left. 

Why was Guss sending him this? 

He didn’t need to see this.

Theron hesitated for a minute, discontent.

Then he wrote a response:

To: Fishman

From: Spike

Need help over there?

As he pressed send, Theron’s eyes went back toward the warehouse roof.   Smugglers and extracurriculars.

He waited ten minutes.  Then he got up to put his boots on, just as the datapad chirped at him. 

More holostills.  Most of them were blurry, but there was one clear shot of Eva twisting away from the man’s blade, her own in a rapid descent into the man’s thigh.

The next shot made Theron sigh, half in horror and half in relief.  First, the horror:  Eva was sliced up. Right arm, midsection right through her clothes, glancing blow on a cheek, and then her left shoulder, where Bowdaar was holding a now-brown rag against her arm. 

The relief came when he realized that they were now in the Thief’s medbay, and Eva was gesturing with her right arm, toward her left shoulder, making some sort of joke about it at the camera, talking to Guss apparently.

Finally, a text message came through.

She’s fine.  He’s not.  She still can’t feel that shoulder anyway, so she was able to finish him off after he stabbed her.  BTW, the Void Wings are considering the Red Hulls’ offer of co-existence on Rishi.  Will update in three days.

Theron sat for a few minutes just staring out the window, fixing his eyes up on the Rishi Maze rather than more terrestrial concerns for the moment.  His mind darted back to Traitors of the Water, Pilots of the Air; one act of parlay during the opening scenes of the book was a blaster fight between the captains and their seconds.  Whoever won had first opportunity to lay out terms of engagement for the rest of the negotiations.  If one of the captains turned up dead, then the winner made demands, while the surviving crew had to make a certain number of concessions in order to stay in the same shipping lanes.  If they didn’t wish to concede or negotiate further, then they vacated the area.  Different weapons, but same principle.  Eva had clearly won, but by how much wasn’t immediately obvious from Guss’s report.

Theron really needed to read another one of those books.  For research purposes, of course; they’d at least give him a vague idea about how this whole Red Hulls ruse was going to be run.  And he should really return the book that he’d unknowingly borrowed for months on end.

“Heh,” Theron heard himself in the warm night.  Excuses.   He’d caught himself making excuses to go out, for the first time in the weeks since they’d arrived on Rishi. 

He wasn’t going to miss her, now that she was here. 

Chapter Text

DAY 2

Ms. Jane Doe.  Can you identify the person who is responsible for the crimes against you listed on the docket?

Yes.

Would you please provide the name of the person, if you knew it and, if possible, identify that person if they are here in this court room?

That man.  Darmas Pollaran.

Have you previously identified this man for law enforcement?

Yes, I have named and identified him six times. 

Was there any other conspirator known to you by name?  Perhaps not someone who personally participated in the crimes against your body, but someone whose name you heard, someone who was referred to regarding the broader trafficking operation?

No.

Ms. Doe, you are under oath.

I honestly only knew him by name.  Him and Senator Dodonna, but that was over at the last trial, I thought?

Yes, that matter is closed.  Was there anyone you knew by sight during the course of your captivity?  Someone, again, who may not have been personally involved but you saw in passing or whose image you saw? 

No.

Feel free to look out at the court, those gathered here on the ground level and those up in the galley – does anyone look familiar?

I—

(A tugging of a sleeve, a look that relayed all that needed to be said)

Objection; the prosecutor has gone fishing.  The defense refers to Ms. Doe’s repeated testimony on the matter that Darmas Pollaran was the only person she knew to be the perpetrator of all crimes against her body and against the Republic, aside from those already convicted.  Must he continue to harry her and waste the court’s time?

Sustained. Prosecutor, move on—

She jolted awake, nearly vaulting herself onto the floor of the cockpit.  Whatever clothes she had fallen asleep in last night were soaked in now-cold sweat. 

She looked at the chrono; she hadn’t heard any noise from it.  It was between hours.  Too few hours for a night’s rest, but enough that she wasn’t going to be able to resume sleeping and still make the meeting as scheduled. 

A shower was in order.  And it looked like her day from the day before would continue.  She closed her eyes and frowned.  She didn’t want it to be like this, but she just couldn’t—

Rain.   There was a pitter patter persisting, drumming gently against the hull of the ship.  She let her shoulders droop in relief.   Jakarro wouldn’t fly, not today.  So just get through the meeting. Not too much. No need.

Her effort to rise to her feet presented a reminder from the night before.  Change the dressing on her left shoulder.  Again.   Then Eva’s eyes lit upon her trophy from the night before:  a somewhat new tricorn hat.  The former wearer was indisposed at the moment, and he preferred to offer a sartorial prize rather than a meal to the Red Hulls. 

Eva smirked as made her way to her quarters and her shower.

**

The meeting didn’t last long, as anticipated; the search for the slave transit locations continued.  The wait for a clear sky continued.  Eva’s operation to draw in other gangs appeared to be gaining traction; the Void Wings (of no relation to Voidfleet or the Voidhound) appeared to be the first to capitulate after their captains had dueled.  Eva didn’t have any further intel on how the other guy was doing; they’d find out soon enough, probably tonight or tomorrow. 

The meeting ended as Lana went over to the small, Republic-issued caf machine that somehow, Theron had managed to steal and keep functional in his duffel bag all those months.  She made a noise of dismay.

“Did it finally die?” Theron asked, looking over.

“No, unfortunately.  But we are out of caf rations.”  Lana’s calm voice belied her tiredness and her reliance on the stuff over the last few weeks; the Empire ran on a 24-hour chrono just like the Republic did, and it seemed like everyone on this op was really hurting from the loss of four hours.

“Eh, it’s my turn to make the run.  Got a list of anything else we’re low on?”  Theron stepped away from the planning table and went toward the make-shift coatrack that stood close to the entrance of the hideout.  Lana gave an affirmative and grabbed a nearby datapad to update it. He easily disentangled a head covering that would obscure his face, though not suspiciously so; it was suitable for the semi-tropic weather of Rishi rather than arctic Hoth or desert Tatooine. 

Eva noticed his expression grow annoyed as he tugged on a very battered brown jacket – broken in and broken down to the point she saw the sleeve seam give way at the shoulder as Theron removed it from its holder.  An audible sigh erupted.  “Well, rest in pieces.”  Eva gave the remains of the garment a cursory glance as its now-multiple parts hit the floor.  It had been through more than a few rainstorms; the material wasn’t suitable for such a drenching, yet it looked as if it had seen a remarkable amount of service in the months since Theron had gone dark.

That would explain why his red jacket still looked fine when she last saw it.  He hadn’t been wearing it, minus the one time he saw her. 

Theron stood in his off-white shirtsleeves, scowling at the outerwear that remained.  That appeared to have been his last surviving piece; the rest appeared to be Lana’s outer robes and a very pragmatic ladies’ all-weather coat.

Say what you will about the Sith Empire; they knew how to dress and they had quality tailors everywhere.

Theron gave one last sour look toward the jacket on the floor before he turned to ascend the steps to his quarters. She knew what he was going to sacrifice to the rains of Rishi.

Eva said aloud, “If you guys need supplies and creature comforts, we got a stash on the ship.  We’re turning some of the surplus from old jobs at the warehouse as the daytime storefront.  Rations, ponchos – stuff they need here, but the underworld keeps at high prices.  Voidfleet already came through with a shipment to support.”  A beat.  “Save your swoop money.  And Akaavi is blocking my movements on the local security cams.”

Theron looked at Lana.  “I don’t think we’re in a position to be overly concerned about the origins of supplies – and this does reduce our exposure to the populace,” she rationalized.  “Go.”

Theron gave her a nod and took the datapad from her.  “I’ll be right back.  Storm has dropped the temperature enough that going out without a coat would be more remarkable than the coat itself,” he said to Eva as he turned to head upstairs.

**

Upon his return, Eva had had to smile.  There was that old faithful friend, the red jacket.  She didn’t bother to hide it, and he didn’t pretend not to notice it.  Lana dutifully kept her eyes on the computer screen.

From the absence of sound on the roof, there was a lull in the storm.  As the pair left the safehouse, they started to weave through the back alleys as quickly as possible, trying to avoid the next deluge.  “How’s the shoulder?”

Eva startled for a second and looked behind her at him as they continued to march toward the ship.  Then she realized – “I swear to the gods, I will fire Guss one day.”

“Why not get rid of the holo cam?”

“It’s my holocam!”  Eva turned to look forward again so she wouldn’t trip over something. “And yes, the shoulder is fine.  Still don’t have all the feeling back, which is normal for that sort of injury” – Theron already knew the details – “so getting stuck there didn’t hurt too much.  Kolto fixed the rest of the slashes you probably saw. Superficial – I was more in danger of tetanus than anything important actually being stabbed.”

“Normally, I’d ask about the other guy, but I’m not, for the sake of plausible deniability.  Same for most of whatever else you’re doing,” came his reply. 

“Makes me wonder what we’re going to talk about until Jakarro does his thing,” Eva replied flippantly.

“I have a few ideas.”

Now that had her attention.

Just then, the sky rumbled ominously.  They were out of time and still a ways away from the Thief.  As the rain started to pour down around them, Eva ducked under an awning of a street eatery.  Theron quickly followed.  “I’m not sure if your jacket will survive out there for long, Theron.”

“Yeah, I like this one.  I guess I’m stuck here with you.”  Eva saw him smile at the prospect.  “So you never did answer my question.”

Eva looked up at him, water dripping of her newly acquired tricorn.  “Which was?”  She hastily took her newly won hat off and shook the water away.  Peering out at the storm, she hung it off the side of a chair nearby.  They were going to be here for awhile. 

“What are you thinking now?” he asked again.

Eva decided “I want to climb you like a tree” was probably not an appropriate answer. 

“It’s fantastic to see you alive and well.”  Eva finally let herself feel relieved, without worrying about what the Sith would read into it.  Theron visibly relaxed as well. 

“I… did think of you,” he said quietly. 

“Same,” she reassured him quickly, a bit breathless.  “Missed you.”

Theron nodded, eyes intent on her and only her.  “I didn’t forget what we said before.  About dealing you in.”

Eva let an anticipatory chill run through her.  “And?”

“I need to expose this conspiracy.  I need to complete this operation.  I need to not be a fugitive.”  Theron’s hands reached out for hers.

Eva stepped back.  “The first two I get.  But the fugitive thing?  Still?” 

Theron redirected his gaze into the rainstorm.  “I have obligations I need to keep.  Being a fugitive with you just makes those harder to fulfill.”  His eyes came back to hers, still warm and focused but with a stubborn steel behind them.  “You can call it an excuse.  I need to be right with the Republic.”

Eva did not like it, but he’d never said otherwise.  “You would do a lot for her.  Exhibit A.”   Eva made a grand motion toward all of Rishi.

“Yes, I would.  You know that,” Theron calmly reminded her.  He let out a short laugh. “I did come up with the pirate idea.  Lana decided to make you cannibals.”   Eva grinned as she saw him pull a very familiar book out of his interior jacket pocket.  “Read this a few times while I was off the Holonet.”

It was the book she’d loaned him all those months again at Rakata Prime:  Traitors of the Water, Pilots of the Air.  “So I can only blame myself for this?” she teased him.

“Let’s go with that.”  He smiled at her and the rubbed at his neck a bit self-consciously.

It took a moment for it to register on Eva, but when it did, a small spike of joy went through her.  “You want the next one in the series, don’t you?”

“Can’t be on the Holonet all the time,” he answered all too quickly.  He looked down at the book and slid it back into his pocket to protect it from the rain.  “I’ll admit, it has its redeeming qualities, much like its owner.” His teeth caught against his lower lip, seemingly unsure as to whether that comment was too far or not far enough.

Stars.  No wonder she’d gotten hung up on him on the way back from Port Nowhere. Eva couldn’t resist the impulse anymore, but she knew it had to fall within his rules.   “Can you spare something for your fellow fugitive friend?  I promise it’s not completely treasonous.”

Theron eyed her with some caution, his expression hedging between curiosity and worry.  Then Eva took a small step toward him, arms open. 

Theron’s face softened.  His eyes lit up, and Eva let herself bask in that light as he crossed the distance between the two of them.  Eva wrapped her arms around his waist as his arms drew her close.  “This one’s real too…”  He said it lightly, but he was reconfirming it. 

“Yeah.  Get used to it.”  Eva closed her eyes. She inhaled his scent: his cologne, his pomade, a bit of his sweat, the small remnants of his aftershave that stubbornly clung after at least two days of not shaving.  Then there was the strong frame of his body, lean and muscular.  She could feel his heart and the heat from his body.

“You ok down there? You’ve gone still.”  The rumble of his voice was another pleasure.

“Currently in paradise, come back later.”  She felt his sudden intake of breath.  “I mean, I could let go if you –”

“No,” he answered so quickly. She felt his arms readjust around her. “I—It’s – great.  It feels great.”  She felt his chin come down to rest on the top of her head.  “We should just wait until the rain stops.”

“Oh, I agree. I love the rain.”

“I’m becoming a bigger fan by the second.”  Theron let out a sigh.  He seriously was enjoying this.

The rain pattered around them.  The temperature still dropped gradually, further justifying Theron’s need for a jacket.

“I tried to re-ping your nav computer and found out you spaced it.”

“Thought I was dead for a second?”

“Yes.”

“Served you right for messing with a girl’s ship.”

“I figured it out.”  Theron shifted his stance slightly.  “You were always going to come, right?”

Her initial response was to be indignant, how dare he, wasn’t she --  and then she thought about a holostill of a boy who had been left in the lurch, suddenly alone.  “Yeah.  I don’t abandon my friends, I told you already.”

“Yeah.” 

He had needed to hear it.  Eva didn’t press the conversation further. 

**

Day 3

She must have known something.

I’m telling you, she knew nothing.  I knew nothing. 

How can she sleep with him for over two years and not figure it out?

Shar, has it occurred to you that she’s not an idiot and that maybe he’s the Empire’s best spy?

She was on Port Nowhere at times when they weren’t—

He’s good at scheduling.  That doesn’t mean she was avoiding—

How do you know she wasn’t?  I mean, you’ve haven’t known her as long as he had.  Maybe this all started before you knew her otherwise.

Does it really hurt your Pub egos that he evaded detection for fifteen years?  Does it fucking burn you up?  If it does, you’re seriously venting out the wrong port.

I don’t see how she wasn’t in on the con—

He conned me!  He conned me, that’s how good he is.  And unlike you, Master Jedi, I haven’t gone soft.  I haven’t lost my edge.  He conned me.  He was good at what he did, better than the Republic, without anyone’s help, least of all hers.  And until you can admit that and do something useful, you can forget this commlink.  Both of you.

(A hairy paw gently pat her on the shoulder, claws splayed to avoid any tearing or catching of fabric.)

She’ll get them to help, little girl.  Just… just go to bed tonight.  It will be better in the morning when you wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up.

“Little girl, wake up.” 

The hairy paw was real.  Bowdaar was shaking her awake in the cockpit, rather frantically now.  Her eyes struggled to blink open fast enough.  “Am I late?”

“Not yet.  You will be if you’re not moving soon.  The pretty blonde lady already sent over the all-clear: the Warthog is flying today,” Bowdaar told her.

She nodded, still shaking the dream off.

“You’re running yourself ragged,” he sternly remarked. 

“Part of the con, Bowie.  If I’m going to run the underworld here, I have to be in it.  I’ll take it easy tonight though.  Feel like conquering a local cantina, adding it the portfolio?”

Bowdaar groaned.  “What does Spike think about this?”

“Plausible deniability, given what we’re doing.” She stood up and started to pad her way to her quarters.  “Who’s awake enough to go blow up some supply caches?”

“We already drew straws.  Fishman lost.”

“Great.  Have him ready to go in fifteen.  Pack me some caf?”

“Thermos is on the galley counter, waiting.”

She gave him a nod as she swung into her quarters and shut the door behind her to get changed.  It was as if a thick mist had settled in over her mind and she couldn’t shake it.

She’d gotten the spies their supplies.  Theron got the next book in the series. He left with the supplies.  The crew had done business at the warehouse.  Check check check.  Done.  Came home late.  Woke up early.

Brain fog.  Happy things like seeing Theron fell away and descended into dreams she didn’t want. 

She had to wake up.

**

Eva and Guss made their way along the coast to the designated rendezvous site.  The sun was already cutting through the early morning mists that had dampened the black sands.  Their boots were caked with the stuff, adding a weighty ‘clomp’ to each step.   “Think he’s sore about the name, still?” Guss asked nervously.

“Given the fact I ordered you to do it, you’re probably not the first person he’d be mad at.  Then again –”

“The Warthog, I know.”  Guss shook his head.  “I could blame the other Wookiee for smashing my brains on his ship.  Didn’t know what I was saying.”

Eva raised a finger. “Don’t tell him that.  Just – just pretend it came from the bottom of your heart or something.”

“Way, way down there, that’s for sure,” Guss agreed. 

Eva had to chuckle.  Then she decided to needle the Mon Cal just a bit.  “So, Theron had to ask me how my shoulder was the other day.”

Guss shrugged.  “I figured he was bored staying in that safehouse all the time, and it’s not like he can get the ladies’ jetz tournament or microdroid wrestling on the premium channels.”

Eva stared at Guss as they continued to walk. “You sent me getting stabbed to him as a form of cheap thrills?”

Guss paused for a second, blinking.  “Yeah, it’s probably wouldn’t have been a good sign if he liked it.  Well, at least you know he isn’t into that kind of thing.”

Eva couldn’t stop herself from bringing both hands up to her face and making audible contact with them.

“Oh, double-face palm.  Sorry, boss.  I’ll leave the holocam back on the ship from now on.”

“You do that.”  Eva pulled her hands away from her face and scanned the horizon.  At last, another XS light freighter was in sight.  “If he reaches for the bowcaster, start running.”

Guss let out a whining noise, but stopped as soon as he was sure he was in range of Jakarro’s hearing.

Eva held up an arm to wave in greeting, and Jakarro responded in kind, the head of C2-D4 hanging around his neck.  As they came close, he called out them.  “Fishman!  Space Harpy!”

“That’s a new one,” Eva murmured to Guss.

“He caught Bowdaar on comm yesterday; Bowie gave him a piece of his mind and a promise of death if he ever called looking for ‘little girl’ again.”

Eva had to smile.  Bowdaar’s paternal panics always hit her in the heart.  “He’s bigger than Bowdaar – what’s he got to be nervous about?”

“He’s still the Killer of Kashyyyk, Cap,” Guss reminded her.  “The only one who seems to forget that is you.  Then again, you’re probably the only one who never has to worry about that.” 

Eva decided that Guss was right, on that count.

Any further thought on the subject was shelved in favor of being briefed by Jakarro.  “At last! You should know by now that it isn’t wise to keep the mighty Jakarro waiting!”

“This 20-hours-in-a-day thing isn’t exactly doing wonders for us,” Eva reminded him. 

Jakarro grunted in sympathy as D4 sighed in frustration.  “Must you complain so loudly?  There could be ruthless pirates or hungry wildlife all around us!”

“You should watch out for cannibals too.  Apparently, that’s actually a problem around here,” Eva sneered at the droid.

 “Well, I think I’m safe on that account, at least.  Hopefully.”

Eva had a brief vision of T3 making growly noises over the comm at D4 at the first opportunity and she nearly burst in the laughter at the vim and vigor the little droid would put into it. 

Jakarro huffed in good humor.  “I’ve heard of your exploits as the Red Hulls, Space Harpy.  Sounds fun.  Certainly beats hiding in the wilderness for three weeks with this metal man here.”

“I always need a bloodthirsty Wookiee on staff,” Eva offered.

“Two might be overcompensating, but if we’re selling the whole ‘we eat people thing,’ the more Wookiees the better,” Guss interjected. 

Jakarro huffed one more time before cutting to the chase.  “Fun later.  Business now.  I’m not going to stand out here in the heat all day – I want to destroy these Revanite-loving scum-eaters.” 

Eva adjusted her hat on her head and settled into her standard at-ease position when being briefed.  “Theron and Lana said you have a plan?”

Jakarro nodded.  “You will mark targets in the supply cache.”  He paused as he offered her a flare gun.  “I will be circling in the Warthog.  When the target is marked, I will blast it to bits.”

“For once, we don’t have to go charging in face-first,” D4 dryly informed them.  “Please make sure it’s clear that this was the work of the Red Hulls.  We need to keep up appearances, after all!”

Eva looked over at Guss.  “Any ideas?”

“Got any paint?  Red would be better, but we can always just draw the Void Wings’ symbol and ‘x’ it off – remind them what you did to their captain the other night,” Guss offered. 

Jakarro nodded and started to move toward the open doors of The Warthog.  “What did she do to their captain the other night?”

“I got holos –”

“Guss.”  Eva’s warning was swift and efficient. 

“He may or may not be dead,” Guss supplied instead.

Jakarro cast a look back at Eva and shook his head.  “What an idiot.”  He went back to get them their paint so they could tag any surviving structures.

**

It was long, sweaty work in the humid, sunny day that consumed Rishi, but it was done.  With a satisfying blast, the last cache bit the dust.  Whatever was left in this sector was either on fire or obnoxiously defaced.

Guss was dealing with the humidity just fine but Eva’s hair had taken on a life of its own; the deliberately botched perm didn’t help.  She internally wondered how her mother had tolerated the natural curl in her hair without taking shears to it.  Eva pulled her hair back for the umpteenth time that day, trying to contain it to the best of her ability.   It always managed to escape her headband and stick to her skin.  The rest of the uniform, despite the layers, breathed with her – praise military surplus – but her hair was her own problem. 

She eventually would forget this period of her life and think about curling her hair again.   Such was the way of hair envy.

While Guss had scurried off with her permission to further degrade the local area, Jakarro sent a burst signal to indicate that he was done for the day – he had to refuel and land before dark, lest the crummy air traffic control on Rishi led to The Warthog’s destruction.  Eva thumbed her wrist comm link to send back a chirp.  She adjusted the wrist comm to redirect itself through Virtue’s Thief’s comm systems.  With the boosted power, she sent a comm signal to the safehouse. 

“Intel to Captain, we copy you,”  Theron’s voice came through clearly, with minimal crackling.  Eva heard some shuffling in the background, and she assumed Lana had crossed the room to join the conversation.

“Don’t know if you guys have heard, but the Red Hulls just completely trashed a Nova Blade supply cache,” Eva gloated as she surveyed their handiwork.  “I understand the main suspect is being described as ‘skilled and extremely attractive.’   Her trusty sidekick is probably off drawing phalluses on whatever is left.”

Theron stifled a laugh, and Lana sighed. “Is that really necessary?”

“I have never had a mutiny on my ship, and I plan to keep it that way – I let them have their stupid hijinks to blow off steam.”

Eva heard Lana sigh again, and Theron managed to reply, “Nice work.”

Lana’s clipped, efficient voice went back to business.  “I believe one more assault on the Nova Blades’ holdings should be enough to solidify our ‘pirate feud’ and disguise our true goal.  We have an update on another front, however.

Theron’s voice came over the comm link again.  “You remember me saying that the Nova Blades basically run things around here?  As you’ve gathered, for the most part, they’re pretty hands off.  But if someone stands up to them or fails to pay their ‘fees’ to live here?  The Blades grab them and ship them off to the slave camp.  Many of the people that circulate in the slave trade are Rishi-born, not just tourists that are snatched off the beach.”

Eva felt a lump develop in her throat as she listened. 

Where were you taken from?

Rishi, like the others.

Were you on vacation?

No, I was living there.  My children were born there, before all this happened…

Why hadn’t she picked up the pattern then?  It was the same for all them, married or unmarried, mother or child-free--

Eva realized she was drifting and tried to focus on Lana’s smooth drone.  “The slaves are a substantial part of the Nova Blades’ income, both through their labor in the local exonium mines and as merchandise for off-world slave traders. According to our information, the slaves are kept on a remote island under heavy guard.”  Lana paused here to take a breath.  She seemed to consider her phrasing as well. “Do you think you can manage to free them?” came the cautious question.

There was only one answer to that question.  “No one should have to suffer in slavery. I’ll take care of it,” Eva stated, resolutely. 

Theron made a low, small sound in his throat.  Eva couldn’t decipher it over the audio-only commlink.  “While I admire the good intent, we don’t know the island’s exact coordinates.  We have a few options as to how to acquire that information.  The safest, but possibly least efficient in terms of time, would be for you to tag one or more of the shipping containers with trackers and then follow the flow, hoping that at least one of them eventually circulates back to the island.”

Eva rebalanced her weight in her boots.  “What would be more efficient?”

“From what I can tell – and this is highly speculative – the Nova Blades treat their slave containers like lobster traps: they check them a couple of times a day to see if anyone has been thrown in there, and if they have been, they move the container as soon as possible.  The system avoids any direct, over-air communication about the slaves themselves.  In that case, your best bet is to stow away in one of the shipping containers, then once you reach the camp, you can catch them by surprise, break up the security, and free as many as possible.  I’m not a fan of this option,” Theron explained in his even, professional tone. 

I was in darkness for days.  Too hot to sleep.  There was nowhere for waste --

“Neither am I,” Eva replied, conscientiously keeping her voice steady.  “The tracker route it is.  I have a few trackers on me, but if you can get the crew to get out there and start tagging containers, we’re more likely to have a hit on this within the next few days.”

“Agreed.  You can come back to base, Captain.”  There was a note of relief in Lana’s voice.

Eva thought for a moment.  “I copy.  Say, you two feel like celebrating the recent expansion of Red Hulls real estate in Rishi?  We’re probably going to be doing that after we tag containers.”

There was an extended silence on the other end.  “Uhm.  Maybe?”  Theron offered.  It seemed both of the spies were caught off-guard by this offer of extracurriculars. 

“Well, if you two are in the mood, I’ll see you at the Wolf’s Den. Captain out.” Eva clicked off the link and turned to look for Guss.  She didn’t have much of a job to do – he had quietly seated himself on a crate a few feet behind her.

He blinked twice while looking at her, silently.  Eva was about to ask him what his deal was, but he spoke first. “Captain, send Akaavi and Corso to deal with the slaves when the time comes.  Or me – I’m not as weak as I let on, just lazy.”

Eva stared at him, brow furrowing, not comprehending.

“You shouldn’t do that job.  Risha and Bowie neither.”  Guss calmly blinked again. 

Eva scoffed and jerked her head toward their path back to Raiders’s Cove.  “Business is business. We’re all professionals. Whoever goes, goes.  And I’m always going.  I don’t ask people to take risks I don’t.”

She heard him stand up and take several quick steps to catch up to her.  “But some things are riskier for you than for others,” he insisted. 

She exhaled.  This conversation needed to end.  “Guss, stop pushing too hard on the zen Jedi thing.  It doesn’t suit you.  It doesn’t suit our business.” 

He grumbled behind her but said no more. 

She needed to refocus before they took the Wolf’s Den.  She had to stop by her quarters.

Chapter Text

Day 3, evening

The author was dying, Theron decided. 

He frowned as he gazed out his window toward the Red Hulls’ warehouse.  He and Lana were due to meet the smuggler’s crew at the Wolf’s Den, one of the nearby cantinas. They were waiting for the signal to head out there, which T3 would send.  For now, he tried to convey to his stomach to be patient; he didn’t want to burn through the new ration packs from the Thief, especially if the food at the Wolf’s Den was as good as off-hand comments in encrypted transmissions had suggested.

Well, if he couldn’t finish eating through Coruscant or start Alderaan, he might as well mark off some places on Rishi. 

As he continued his vigil at the window, Theron knew there was something wrong here, and he didn’t know what it was.  Yes, he had issues with knowingly permitting her to do her underworld business here.  Yes, that was somewhat counterbalanced by her work to end the slave trade.

But there was something wrong with Eva.

He’d noticed it when they’d had their discussion about the slave trade itself – certain tense reactions, the Voidhound appearing unexpectedly.  As the meeting had continued, he found himself wondering where Eva had gone.  Yes, she made all the right jokes and all the good points…but there was something gone from her as the meeting got longer.

He hadn’t picked up on it initially.  The discrepancy became evident when they went to the Thief for supplies.  Theron felt his face relax involuntarily as he thought of her in the rain, looking up at him, holding onto him tightly….

But when they got to the Thief, it was like she was running out of steam… withering even as they pulled stock from the Thief’s cargo bay, as he tried to make conversation.  Theron admitted he wasn’t a great conversationalist, but asking about the crew – the people Eva would do anything for without question – resulted in sentences.  Then a sentence.  Then a few words.  Then one or two words. 

Some spark was gone from her the longer they remained together. 

Maybe his duties to the Republic were a dealbreaker for her, and she made her choice as they pawed through cargo boxes.  He ran a thumb over a seam of his new grey all-weather jacket.  A parting gift?

Maybe she was just tired, he tried to rationalize – who wasn’t with 20-hour day cycles? 

Then again, the author might be dying.

When Theron was a teenager, he got into a Holo-book series that had been running for nearly 30 years.  Even Jace had admitted to trying to read the first one when it was cool and hip (when Jace was cool and hip, well over 20 years ago).  He had seen all the holofilms when he couldn’t get himself to commit to the reading the voluminous swords-and-wyrm series set in Wild Space. 

Theron didn’t like holofilms, so he devoured hundreds, thousands of pages.  The last book was seemingly delayed, repeatedly, for at least three years.  Then the author started releasing the notes for the book on his Holonet site with no explanation.  They were in disarray and nonsensical at times. Sure, the prose had the same strong vigorous flavor of the other books in some areas – there were key action scenes and the great resolution to mysteries.  But like many authors, this one had jumped around when writing his grand finale.  Sections were disjointed, and actions were seemingly without justification.  New details sprang up about the characters that were simply unexplained.  Sometimes, after the wonderful scenes and moments, the author just ran out of energy.  The conversations became shorter and less in continuity with the rest of the series.

Finally, the news went public:  the author was suffering from a degenerative brain disease that no medical experts – Imperial or Republic – had yet found a cure for.  Then his obituary appeared.

The author had been dying.  The last book documented the decline; he had good days – many of them.  He started out strong in the mornings, it seemed.  By the end of the day – by the end of his life -- it was clearly painful for both author and reader to plumb through the text, much like the visit to the Thief. 

Theron didn’t think Eva had anything fatal, but he was fairly confident she was burning out – on the job, on him, on them, on something that currently lay beyond his reach of knowledge.

The problem rested partially in the fact that she was playing a cover – one that required make-up and bad behavior and questionable associates and an extremely curtailed sleeping schedule.  He could not observe whether there was an underlying problem or whether her behavior sprang from these circumstances directly. 

SIS protocol dictated that assets were prized for their information and their capability to succeed in operations.  They were also, ultimately, disposable; agents weren’t expected to invest personally in assets.

Some did, in a most selfish way. Theron didn’t; he focused on the optimal way to serve the Republic, while always holding tight to the idea it was very difficult to extol the Republic’s virtues while getting assets killed or endangered.

That’s not to say it hadn’t had to happen in the past, or that the asset had strayed too far for Theron to protect them. 

Theron grimaced as he felt his datapad buzz.  That was the signal to head out to the Wolf’s Den.  He couldn’t deny that he had an urge to keep Eva on a short leash.  What Theron couldn’t discern was whether it was a professional concern or a personal one.  He knew that if his gut was at all wrong about there being a problem, she would break that leash without a second thought.  She didn’t belong to any side but her own.

But Theron knew his gut was rarely wrong.  He hadn’t advanced in SIS so far so fast, nor stayed alive this long without having good instincts.  He might have had fewer scars if he’d ignored those impulses, but he also wouldn’t sleep as well as he did. 

Something was wrong with Eva Corolastor. For now, though, he had to meet with the captain of the Red Hulls and her merry crew and pretend he was nothing but a spacer with a potential drug habit or some other backstory that would be useful in this context.

**

Lana shrank back into her hood slightly as Theron led her along the streets to the Wolf’s Den.  He apparently had heard it had some of the better food on Rishi.  She wished she had his confidence to move through the street, face mostly uncovered as the orange and red skies gave way to purple, dotted with stars.

Lana also wished she had just a bit more experience in this realm of spy games before stumbling over a galactic conspiracy.  Theron had been an operative since for over decade; Lana had been standard military, working on Hoth and and Taris and other planets with the Imperial troops.  She was known to people, a prominent advisor; Theron had spent his entire career behind the scenes.

Theron knew her face before she knew his; he found her, identified her, and made it clear he was the true ‘spook’ of the two.  Lana knew how resourceful SIS agents were and how devout they were to the cause; she’d had to dispatch 4 of them during the Talay initiative, and even the one who had broken under interrogation had earned her respect during their brief encounter. 

The final SIS agent – the woman – had stolen any victory the Empire had hoped for in the short term, but Talay’s conquest was inevitable.  She knew it. She knew she would die for nothing, in the grand scheme of things, but she did it anyway. 

Theron struck her as the same sort of person, not that Lana planned or desired that fate for him.  No, she would be reluctant to carry out orders against Theron Shan.  That said, she didn’t understand the man.  He made choices that seemed somewhat illogical to her, including his choice of cohorts in this grand conspiracy.  The Voidhound – criminal menace to both Empire and Republic alike – he decided that this chaotic agent and her bizarre little cadre were the best operatives to pull this off.

To top it off, the Voidhound was nothing like Lana had anticipated, but she supposed that was the result of legend-building and deliberate misinformation to make her seem so much larger, so much older, so much more ….

No, she actually was that threatening and dangerous.  She was also as resilient and fierce as advertised. 

Lana had been shocked by how young she was…and honestly, how pretty.  Stars, she’d felt foolish upon first meeting Eva Corolastor and feeling the tinges of a schoolchild’s crush --- after Lana had referred to Eva as ‘inadequate’ due to her lack of professionalized training as military personnel or as a Force user but ‘surprisingly’ beating Lana’s expectations.

Marr was right.  Lana had indeed taken on some of the foibles of being a Sith lord, including the arrogance, the superiority complex.  Though she hadn’t taken on the distasteful trait of thinking less of non-humans due to their birth alone, she certainly had set the bar lower for non-Force users.  Eva and her crew of humans and non-humans had blown that out of the water in their own, unorthodox way. 

The fact that Theron had not only kept his cover for months, just as she had, but somehow also had managed to keep tabs on one of the greatest criminals in the galaxy and get her to Rishi also spoke of his skills.  Or at least something between Theron and the smuggler that Lana couldn’t quite put a finger on.  The flirtation was obvious, but was it anything more?  It was clear she was interested in him – most sentients would be; Lana had no issue in recognizing Theron’s looks, though they did little for her.  But would he – no, ‘stoop’ was not the correct word.  ‘Resort’ was another that conveyed some sort of degradation of the smuggler, who had proven herself to be quite something else. 

It was a matter of contradicting philosophies and ends, Lana decided as Theron pressed a hand into her shoulder to make her wait as a rambling crowd of drunks passed them on the street.  Lana supposed the real test would be what happened at the end of this op – would Voidfleet take this Republic planet without a fight, or would Theron intervene?

Lana was ambitious, but not foolhardy enough to involve the Empire in a scrap over this planet.  Rushing in here would be a waste of time and resources, especially at this time with the cult of Revan and Imperial resources still strapped from Eva’s little stock market jaunt.  Rishi would wait til much later, in terms of Lana’s priorities. 

And her stance was conveniently substantiated as a body hurtled through the transparisteel front window of the Wolf’s Den about twelve feet in front of them, followed by a flurry of blaster fire.

Lana’s head snapped to the left as another body came crashing through.  The Wookiee – Bowdaar – took one step over the threshold to point a claw and shake it at the two offending pirates.  Her Imperial translator rendered it as “And stay out!”, although Theron started to laugh a bit as his Republic translators did their job. 

Sometimes, Lana did feel as if Sith arrogance in the technology sphere made her miss out on some rather good alien colloquialisms.

Bowdaar had continued to bark out something else that the Imperial translators declined to translate, but then he noticed the two figures patiently waiting at the edge of the building. “Oh.  Hi.”  The Wookiee seemed oddly sheepish, then held up a large hand.  “Give us a few minutes.  Getting a table.”

Calmly, Bowdaar walked back inside the cantina as several blaster bolts whizzed by his head. 

“Smugglers,” Theron muttered.  Then he shrugged.  “Got a blaster?” he turned to ask her.

“ A small one, yes.”  Lana knew she couldn’t draw her lightsaber on the street, so she had packed her EC-17 holdout.  “…I’m unsure how helpful I’d be with –”

“Let’s move this along.”  Without another word, Theron shoved his off-hand blaster into her hands and ducked low, main-hand blaster drawn. He moved into the dim cantina, right into the line of fire.

Lana stood out in the street for a moment, listening the sizzle of blaster fire and the breaking of various objects all around her, awkwardly holding Theron’s blaster. 

She just wanted dinner, really, not a floor show.  She had little choice in the matter; she was exposed if she stayed out here.  So against her better judgment, Lana crouched down and carefully made her way into the cantina.

The scene was as chaotic as it sounded.  Tables were upturned and made into makeshift fortifications as the Red Hulls fought a rival gang.  Lana didn’t actually recognize many of the Hulls; Eva’s recruiting drive had been successful, seemingly. Through the hazy atmosphere – contributed to by both the blaster fight itself and the rampant cigarette use – Lana could vaguely see the Mon Calamari, Guss. 

A clatter ahead of her and to the right revealed Eva and one of the crew members she was not familiar with – a young man with noticeable scarring on his face with dark hair.  The pair had  just overturned a table, apparently retreating from a previous position. Lana could just barely hear Eva say, “Hey, Corso, you’re pretty hot.”

The young man seemed too distracted to perceive the double entendre.  His stuck his head up to get a look at the rival gang’s position and nearly lost an ear for his trouble.  “Uh, what?”

“You’re smoking –”  Eva frantically looked around them for a moment, then seized upon an abandoned bowl and snuffed out the apparent fire that had started to creep up his pant leg. 

“Oh, thanks, Cap,” he finally answered, distractedly, still try to get a visual around the table.

Eva raised the bowl to check if the fire was indeed out, and seeing that it was, she flung the bowl over the table, where it shattered – whether it was hit by incoming fire or had successfully hit a mark, Lana could not tell.  “You know, Corso, I waste so much banter on you.”

“I like it better than the stream of insults from Risha, so I appreciate it,” he returned.  Eva cracked a smile as she peered around the edge of the table. 

“This dinner party apparently isn’t going as planned,” came Theron’s sardonic remark.  Lana turned to find him across from her, one table behind Eva’s set position.

“So the Void Wings decided not to be friends.  I’m handling it.” A blaster bolt splintered the edge of the table by her head, and Eva shifted slightly inward toward Corso, not taking her eyes off Theron, who was looking fairly exasperated with her at this point.  “It’s just taking a little longer than expected.  And you showed up early.”

Eva turned back around to return fire, and Theron brooded for a few seconds before assuming a cover position. 

Emerging from the debris in front of them, Lana saw a Mandalorian in her helmet appear. Akaavi Spar, if her intel was still up to date.  “Captain.”

“What do you think?” Eva asked as the Mando swung herself around to take cover just beyond Corso. 

“I think I should surrender.”

This struck Lana as odd, and for a moment, Eva’s face registered it as such.  Then mischief crossed the brunette’s face.  “You’re going to surrender.”

“Yes,” came the firm response.  “I think that will end this quite quickly.”

“You sure about this surrendering thing?” Eva asked glibly.  Lana dared to glance over at Theron, who must have heard this with his implants.  He had; all he had for Lana was a shrug, though worry was starting to leech into his expression.

Mandalorians did not surrender.

Eva pulled on one of her gloves with her teeth, just enough to allow her to shake it off to the floor.  Then she used two fingers to fire off a piercing whistle through the cantina.  “Everyone back!” she yelled over the fray and chaos. 

As the various members of the crew – both smuggler and newly initiated Red Hulls – scrambled back toward her, a Bith crouched next to her.  “What’s the deal, boss?”

“Mando over there is going to surrender.”

The pupiless eyes of the Bith blinked rapidly, and the ridges on his forehead became more pronounced.  “Captain, you do realize I signed on with you because my lifespan was limited with Zykken –”

Eva waved him off.  “Let the Mando surrender.  You’ll make it home tonight.”  Lana couldn’t help but compare the Captain to a cat, perched in anticipation, tail trembling slightly as the little predator waited for.. something.

Risha Drayen appeared and caught that unmistakable look as well.  She nudged Eva with a boot as she slid in beside her, taking shelter from another wave of blaster fire.  “Akaavi’s going to surrender.”

Risha, surprisingly, swallowed a laugh, though the silent amusement remained on her face.

Before she had a chance to say anything, Bowdaar managed to vault himself over the last of the barricades and Lana braced herself for a loud crash.  But the Wookiee landed almost silently with a preternatural grace, crouching low and finding a place next to Lana to take cover.

“Should have ordered snacks before we started shooting up the place,” Corso remarked. 

“Snacks.  We have food at home,” groused Bowdaar as he peered back down the darkened cantina.  “Where’s Fishman?”

“Cowering somewhere – he’ll be fine.”  Eva looked to Akaavi and jerked her head toward the battlefront – a silent command to get to work.  Akaavi nodded, passing her blaster Eva as she crept by.

Lana watched as Akaavi of Clan Spar threw a flash-bang grenade in front of her.  The blaster fire petered out as visibility became nil.  Then she drew herself up to her full height in armor.  “I surrender,” she called out loudly.

A second of silence, then a great wave of hushed chatter erupted.  Akaavi began a slow walk forward.  As the smoke began to dissipate, she cut an impressive figure in silhouette.

One of the Void Wings attempted to put on an authoritative tone.  “Hey, you, uh… put your hands behind your head?”  His voice inched upward at the end, making his demand more of a question. 

“Have her take off the helmet,” came another voice. 

“What does that matter?  You got a kink or something?”  Raucous laughter ensued.  By this point, Akaavi had put her hands behind her head – but Lana could see agile, gloved fingers working away at something on the back of the helmet. 

Of course.  Mandalorians don’t surrender. 

But working with a dishonorable smuggler for five years may have taught Akaavi more than one less-than-honorable trick. 

The Void Wings on the other side of the barricade of overturned tables and barstools seemed to be in conference at this point, unable to decide how to handle this.  “Stop right there.”  Akaavi halted where she was in the middle of the room.

“Take off the armor!” another voice called out, and more laughter populated the room. 

Lana could see no visible reaction from Akaavi, not even movement from her head. “Do you want my hands behind my head or not?” she replied coolly. 

Another discussion ensued, but this one was much shorter.  “Show us your hands first.”

Lana turned at the noise of either Risha or Eva choking on a laugh.  The two women watched their comrade quietly, smiles threatening to break out across both faces.  Lana redirected her attention back toward Akaavi; she wasn’t going to want to miss this. 

Steadily in one smooth, slow motion, Akaavi let her arms flex at the elbow, the palms of her hands becoming visible to those in front of her.  Twin beeping noises became audible.  A harsh red glow reflected off the metal of Akaavi’s gloves, the light hazy due to the persistent smokiness of the room. 

Lana realized what they were as Akaavi effortlessly threw them toward the Void Wings.

The panic was almost immediate.  “Thermal detonators!”  Chaos on the other side of the room broke out, as whatever remaining furniture was hastily shoved out of the way as the Voidwing’s vacated the building.  The Red Hulls seemed to be ready to act on the same instinct, but with a wave of Eva’s hand, the new crew members uneasily remained in place. 

Lana felt herself fight the urge to run and instead settled on a reasonable response of a force shield.  She heard Theron groan in irritation and saw him twitch his jaw out of the corner of his eye – oh right, his implants and his hearing.  Lana took the clue and covered her ears as well.

She was just in time; a split second later, the explosion ripped through the back of the cantina.  Lana’s cloak flapped in the backdraft, only to be tacked down thoughtfully by Bowdaar’s foot.  The building rocked unsteadily for ten, twenty, twenty-seven seconds.  Lana watched the lighting fixtures in the rafters sway, dust sprinkling down upon the huddled figures behind their fortifications.

Then there was stillness.  Lana’s eyes flitted around the room.  Corso and Risha had clamped their hands over their ears, eyes shut tightly, lines forming on their faces. Bowdaar, next to her, had his hands over what she assumed were his ears, but his eyes were active, searching the darkness for Akaavi.  Eva already had her eyes open and was already starting to stand up.  Theron’s hand grabbed at her elbow, a nonverbal reminder to stay low.  Lana could see the tensing of his jaw – likely reactivating his hearing implants, now that the great thunderous noise was gone. 

Eva did not have to move forward any further; Akaavi approached, her cool professionalism just flowing off of her.   “Done,” she blandly said.

“Best sabacc face in the business.”  She let out a low whistle as she surveyed the damage.  A few quick gestures with her hands, and the new crew immediately set to work on setting the cantina to rights … somewhat.  That was going to be a challenge, given the fact the back wall was blown out.  Guss had reappeared by now and was peering out along the pathway near the docks, which branched in two directions.  A small marina lay immediately in front of them.  It actually was a rather nice view --

Just then, a Bothan stumbled out of a door behind the smoldering bar.  Eva jerked her blaster so quickly that Lana almost didn’t see it make its way from her holster to her hand, but she maintained a control that kept her from firing on who was apparently the operator of the bar.  Lana’s Imperial translator failed to translate any of the likely exotic curses coming out of his mouth.  Judging from Theron’s expression, they were colorful and innovative.  “What the kriff did you do to my cantina?” was the only coherent sentence that the translator managed to extract for Lana.

Xenophobic translators did have their downsides.

Eva thought for a second before replying with all too much cheer, “I got rid of your problem with the Void Wings.  We’re the Red Hulls. Is the kitchen still open?”

The Bothan stared at her, seemingly not understanding what she said.  Then his eyes caught sight of the now-missing fourth wall.  His nostrils flared, and his fur seemed stand up on end as he walked toward the massive hole.  More sputtering and incoherent noises erupted from him.  Guss watched him for a moment before interrupting, “You know indoor/outdoor dining is all the rage on Trask.  For Mon Cal, anyway – lot of rain.  You get a lot of rain too but it eventually does stop.  I think you should view this as an opportunity.”

The Bothan turned to glare at Guss, unable to speak anymore due to silent rage.   With a nervous laugh, Guss held up both hands and steadily backed away from the Bothan, who then began a silent, shaking vigil over the hole in his back wall. 

Chapter Text

Lana was shocked when they did actually have dinner.  Credits and free labor from the Red Hulls – even as the smuggler and her cadre were eating -- smoothed over things, not to mention that Eva paid up front in hard currency for their meal. As they waited for the food to arrive, Lana surveyed their surroundings carefully.  She, Theron, Eva, and Bowdaar were sitting at a table not far from the kitchen, eagerly awaiting their supper.  Corso had sat there for a bit, but his discomfort around Lana – even when she smiled politely at him – had caused him to go investigate the decrepit jukebox that sat, half lit in a corner.  Risha and Akaavi were at the bar, having their drinks and discussing something called a V.A.T.  The pair looked over at Eva a few times during the course of their conversation, but it seemed not to be immediately relevant to this operation. 

Guss had somehow endeared himself to the Bothan, despite their rocky beginnings, and they were actively arranging an outdoor eating area on the dock pathway.  The rest of the Red Hulls that had been recruited had cleared away the rubble and managed to either repair or replace the broken remains rapidly.  It would be several days before Lana thought the place would be up to standard, but that was “several days” rather than “never.” 

Thanks to Akaavi’s stunt, the whole lot of them were able to dine in peace with no eyes on them.   “You work quickly,” Lana commented as she saw the Red Hulls dragging in lighting devices to replace the old ones in the Wolf’s Den – still low, but fewer dark corners and warmer in tone.  It was almost welcoming.

Almost, Lana considered as the lights illuminated a bloody blast darts target in a forgotten corner. 

Eva swirled the ice in her Sullustan gin and tonic.  “I got a supply line, and I got bodies that like being paid for half the risk they were running under Zykken.  It’s easy to make friends and influence people.”

“What is Void---”  Lana’s question was cut off by Bowdaar swift hand across her mouth, claws carefully spread to not cut her.  Lana stared up at him and then at Eva.

“We don’t talk about that here,” Eva simply said, eyes sharp and alert, then Bowdaar took his hand away.  “I’m just Captain of the Red Hulls, the most fearsome lady pirate in the galaxy – and the newest.”

Lana glanced over at Theron, who had watched this entire exchange silently.  Then he asked Eva, “What makes you think the Wings aren’t going to come back to you over this?”   He took a sip of his Corellian whiskey.

Eva held her drink with one hand, counted her fingers on the other, and had one foot kicked up on a neighboring chair, which had been vacated by Corso a few minutes before.  “I’m pretty sure I killed their captain, suggested by the lack of brain cells we saw tonight. I have a Mandalorian who knows what she’s doing – Akaavi should take most of the credit for getting the Hulls in line and to work.  And we’ve proven we can destroy a place and rebuild it in less than a night.  Superior organization, group cohesion – they’ll think twice.”

There was a momentary dimming of lights and a terrified yelp.  The table’s occupants turned to see what had caused the power drain.  Corso lay sprawled about three feet away from the now-dismantled jukebox.  “I found the short!” he explained when he realized he had an audience.

“Corso, I know you know everything there is to know about small arms, but jukeboxes?”  Eva turned in her chair, propping her chin on the back of it.

“Can’t dance if you don’t have music.”  Corso smiled at her and got back to his project, pointedly making contact with an unattached piece of metal before sticking his hands back in the guts of the machine.

Bowdaar grunted over at Corso.  “He’s the four-time Margengai glide champion – don’t let the lanky body and the constant slouch fool you.”

“And the Boxnov-three step champion,” Eva added.

Bowdaar scoffed, “He beat a bunch of octogenarians for that one.”

Lana almost sputtered into her Menkooro bourbon when Theron quipped, “They had sixty more years to practice.”  Bowdaar huffed in good humor and Eva laughed.  Theron let a lopsided smile cross his face. “Are you his partner in these competitions?”

Eva shook her head.  “No, that is Risha or his cousin Rona, whenever she’s in town.  I don’t—” Her lips quirked.  Whatever expression Theron had made at her was gone by the time Lana’s eyes went back to him.  “You know.”

Now she had some real questions about all those times Theron completely disappeared off the radar. 

Before she could press the matter further, their food arrived.  Theron had decided to go for the famed grilled seafood tower of the Wolf’s Den, and indeed, it lived up to the billing visually: it had to stand at least three feet tall, each layer specially heated to best suit each kind of indigenous seafood on Rishi.  Lana could vaguely identify crustaceans, various types of fish, oysters and clams of some variety, and even some creatures she swore were still … moving. 

Theron ran his eyes over the massive tower once.  “I have to admit, I might want some help on this one.”  His enthusiasm for new food did not waver for a second, however. 

Eva unrolled the flatwear from her napkin, which had been hastily folded into the shape of some native bird by the owner.  “So y’see, this is why I didn’t order anything to eat; it’s not just because I’m alcoholic.”  With that, she speared some sort of scallop-looking piece of meat and dragged it back to her plate.  Theron gave her a look, then let a small grin cross his face as he dug into his side of the seafood tower.

Bowdaar huffed again, shaking his head at Eva’s jest.  He was served a large whole shark, minus the head, but it was beautifully arrayed across the plate, which took up most of his end of the table.  Lana had settled on a crab bisque with a large crabcake to go with it. 

By the end of the meal, she had to admit, despite Rishi being a backwater, the Bothan knew his craft.  “I think this is the best thing I’ve had since before I took my leave of absence,” Lana sighed, leaning back in her chair.  She’d cleaned her plate.

“Bowie, would you hate me forever if I kidnapped him and let him run our galley freely?”  Eva asked plaintively, staring at the remains of the seafood tower.  She looked as if she wished to continue on, but there simply wasn’t any more room. 

“Only a little,” the Wookiee muttered back, his shark cleaned down to every individual bone. 

Theron sighed, and he scowled at the remains of the tower that taunted him.  His pace had slowed considerably, and he inevitable reached the same point as Eva had.  “Don’t think it’ll keep longer than a day in the freezer unit,” he remarked sadly. 

Eva gave him a tap on his bicep.  “The Thief has better freeze systems.  If you can trust us not to eat it, I can take it from here.”

Theron nodded, and Eva looked around in order to flag down someone still around.  The barmaid saw her and came over with to-go boxes kept under the bar, leaving Akaavi and Risha to fend for themselves temporarily.  As the woman collected the remaining pieces of cooked seafood from the various layers of the tower, metal caught the lights in the cantina, causing a tell-tale glint on her neck. 

A slave collar.

Lana saw it.

Eva saw it as well, and the relaxed, convivial mood that Eva had cultivated during the course of the night vanished.  Her face set itself into something just shy of anger, but the eyes – the eyes burned with it.  Eva reached into an interior pocket and left hard currency on the table.  Before the woman could object, Eva rose to her feet.  “Management issue.  I’ll be back.”  She made a beeline toward the kitchen, the door swinging both ways before being locked from the inside with an audible magnetic bolt. 

The woman stared after her, then hurried swept the money into her apron and finished packing up the seafood and hastily leaving it in front of Theron.  She nervously retreated to the bar, waiting for whatever came next.

Theron gave Lana a questioning look; he had not had the angle to see what had perturbed Eva.  “Collar,” was what Lana simply offered.  Theron absorbed this, then drew back in his seat to wait for Eva’s return.

Bowdaar had seen the collar and heard Lana’s explanation to Theron.  His eyes lingered on the kitchen doors for a moment or two moment before returning his attention to the table.  Lana was surprised when he spoke to her.  “I work with her because of these things.  What she does when there is no profit.”

Lana nodded.  Wookiees were known for their sense of honor throughout the galaxy.  “I can understand your admiration for your captain in that matter.  Despite the opportunities presented by sentient trafficking, she’s declined to participate and in fact does her best to break those systems, at a cost.”  Lana paused for a moment, then pressed forward.  “It is not what I anticipated when I first started to work with smugglers.”

Theron ‘hmm’ed’ and then began to tend to the dregs of his brandy. 

Bowdaar cast another look at the kitchen doors before replying.  “She is not like most smugglers, much like how you are not like most Sith.”

“I like to think of myself as my own woman.”  Lana looked over at her long-empty bourbon glass.  No, no more tonight – she did not want anything to disturb the warm, full feeling her dinner had left her with. 

“For a Sith Imp, what does that mean?” The question was remarkably blunt, and Lana began to actively consider secretly replacing her translator with something more xeno-friendly. That, or she had best start learning Shyriiwook.

“In brief, I’m not opposed to working with sentients not like me.”  Lana chose her words carefully, pointed glances directed at Bowdaar, an alien, and Theron, a non-Force User.  “I have my moments, according to my superior, but I do try to pay attention to individual merits.  I like finding the truth of things, not the convenient interpretation.”  Lana let herself look at Bowdaar and then Theron again, silently offering another point: not opposed to working with the Republic or its allies for the sake of that truth. 

Bowdaar reached for his water glass and took a drink, the vessel almost comedically dwarfed by his large palms.  “You look for individual merit.  What do you do with your slaves?”

The question caught Lana off-guard.  “What do I do in relation to the slave trade?” she asked, trying to clarify.

Bowdaar nodded.

This must be some sort of test, she determined.  The truth seemed to be most suitable here, then.  “I don’t engage with it, personally.  I personally don’t own any.  My parents were entrepreneurs on Dromund Kaas, and they always had their own paid employees.  However, as you know, my home government is very much committed to the use and spread of it.  I must participate as required by my orders.”

Bowdaar took a some time to consider this.  “You enable it?”

“I try to avoid it, but it is not always… feasible in my line of work.” 

Theron took a deep swallow of his brandy, acting as if he had not heard or seen anything. Lana knew that, maddeningly, she couldn’t determine whether he was completely engrossed in this conversation or reading the Holonet through his implants and pointedly tuning them out. 

Bowdaar moved his glass across the table, thinking.  “You consider individual merits.  What merits do you see in slaves?”

Lana knew she probably should have read the Killer from Kashyyyk’s file before fleeing her office.  The Drayen heir had been an obvious read, as had the failed Mon Cal Jedi and the Mandalorian that had defected.  She’d passed over Bowdaar and Corso Riggs – failed to prioritize them. 

Another lesson in spycraft learned – always read all of the files, or at least enough to grasp what traps lay ahead in any conversation with them.  But she did know one or two things about Bowdaar and how he came to be in Eva’s crew. “Are you familiar with the Empire’s emphasis on the Sith and the Sith Code?” Lana couched her question in such a way that any random eavesdropper wouldn’t immediately affiliate her with either entity; she’d learned to leave her lightsaber and her allegiances at home on Rishi.

Bowdaar grunted.  “I don’t play in things beyond my understanding.” 

“What you do need to understand is that all life in the Empire runs on the Sith Code, far more than the Republic runs on the Jedi Code.  It applies to both Force users and non-Force users alike,” Lana pointed out.  Bowdaar tilted his head and silently asked her to continue on.  “While the Jedi Code demands peace – being content – the Sith code expects Force users to use passion to gain strength.  Through show of strength, power is gained.  With power, victory can be achieved.  All that culminates in the breaking of chains.  This is why, in the Sith Empire, a slave can become a member of the Dark Council, such as Darth Nox.”

Bowdaar stared at her silently for a moment.  “And what if a slave has no Force talent at all?  Is there a way out?”

Lana pursed her lips.  “The path is much harder, but I do not think it to be impossible.  You’re an example of that—”

And Lana knew almost immediately that was the wrong thing to say to Bowdaar.  He did not roar.  He did not flip the table.  He did not rip her arms out of their sockets, as Imperial sergeants so liked to tell gullible privates and corporals.  No.

He leaned in to speak to her quietly.  “I suffered a hundred years fighting for the amusement of your kind – not for honor or pride or justice or credits.  The blood of thousands is on my hands, and I have nothing to show for it.  The path is hard?” The translator assuredly rendered that as a hypothetical question correctly; he continued. “The cost cannot be measured.  When I was taken as a child, I was altered to be ‘more handleable’ or ‘less aggressive.’ Their procedures failed, but if you ask me now why I stay with my little girl, it is because she is the only small one I can call my own.” 

Lana felt herself freeze up, her heart skipping critical beats.  She tried to object and explain to him what she meant by that, that she didn’t mean to disregard his experience, that ---

Then Bowdaar stood and smoothly took the to-go boxes out from in front of Theron and left the cantina. 

Anxiety swept over Lana as she sat in her dining chair in the Wolf’s Den.  She cast a look over at Theron, who looked back, calmly.  He said, “I once asked Eva over caf what Life Debt she had on Bowdaar.  She said there was none.  That explains that.  Add it to your file.”  Theron examined the bottom of his empty glass before shoving it away, watching it slide easily and then stop at the perfect center of the table.

In that moment, Lana felt every inch the inexperienced and awkward intelligence operative she feared she was. She still wasn’t ready to do this yet.  Without the Force to serve her, she knew she would have been found out months ago, even as late as a few weeks ago when she foolishly forgot to take off her lightsaber before going out in Rishi.  Lana could have evaded this conversation, but no, she wanted truth and by the Emperor’s Ghost, she had gotten it. 

It would have been easier if Bowdaar had been brutal in his words.

It would have been easier if she was more brutal in her attitude toward aliens. 

Neither scenario was true.  Lana wanted to go back to the safe house now.  “Excuse me,” she murmured to Theron as she stood up and walked briskly out.  As soon as she was out of sight of the cantina, she broke into a run, pouring her focus into the physical exertion rather than giving any attention to her silly desire to cry. 

**

When Eva emerged from the kitchen, she immediately noticed that her table party was decidedly smaller than when she left it.  Bowdaar, Lana, and the leftovers were gone.  Theron seemed to be contemplating their empty glasses, now clustered at the middle of the table.  Eva returned to the table, reaching for a chair to turn around and straddle.  “What happened?” she asked as she sat herself down.

Theron didn’t answer her immediately.  He looked at her an acknowledged her presence, but he seemed to be lost in thought, his exact expression inscrutable.

Eva took the path of teasing.  “Come on now, the crew has a betting pool on those two.  I need to figure out whether we’re paying out to Risha.   She said it would be drinks at the bar.”

Theron cracked a smile, but it was quickly muted.  “The conversation started after Lana saw the slave collar.” 

That explained everything.

“Ah.”  Eva let the smile slip off her face and sank slightly deeper into her chair, resting her chin on the back.  “I take it Lana… is not on the same page as we are for obvious reasons?”

Theron nodded once.  “Not a strong-held personal belief but she believes in the institutions.  She also missed some key parts when she read Bowdaar’s file, apparently.  And he divulged some information that isn’t on there.”  The olive-gold eyes swerved from the glass toward her, and she met them with ease.

Eva held his gaze for a moment before blinking.  “You understand why I couldn’t even pretend to be a slaver, then.  Not for a second.”

Theron bobbed his head  again. “I don’t think he’s upset at her.  I do think she just got a bit of a reality check --  life beyond the Empire’s hierarchy is very different.”

Eva listened to and watched Theron.  In the quiet, he was more relaxed, but the way he spoke made him sound so old at the same time.  She considered it must have been a consequence of playing spygames since he was 16 – something that Lana likely had not done. 

Eva wondered whether she came off like that – old -- sometimes.  She became who she was when she was 16 too.  “You’ll be happy to know that our Bothan friend no longer owns any slaves.  We came to an agreement about wages and housing for our barmaid over there.  Also, lots of surveillance – to keep the cantina safe, of course.” 

“Of course,” he echoed, and this did coax a genuine smile back out on his face. It was still tempered by the heavy conversation, but Eva could tell Theron was pleased that one more woman was free. 

“Buy you a drink?” Eva offered.

“My turn,” Theron countered.  The two of them wordlessly decided to get out of the way so the table could be cleaned and moved to take their drinks at the bar. 

“And then my place or yours?” Eva boldly asked as they sat down on their bar stools.

Theron guffawed, and she swore she saw his skin flush slightly – might have been the lighting though.  “I go to mine, and you go to yours.  You know what I said.  I got rules I follow.”

A “yeah” was offered in response as the barmaid got their drinks ready.  As she waited, Eva idly wondered how far those rules went – how many bridges was she going to have to cross before he let her into his game.  He’d said he wasn’t jerking her chain back on Katalla.  And yet ---

Just stop thinking and have a drink with the handsome man next to you, kid.

Eva took that inner voice’s advice, and the evening finished pleasantly – not quite the way she wanted, but better than Theron’s visit to the Thief;

This time, she could still remember the conversation the following day.

**

Day 4, morning

At some ungodly hour, Eva heard her commlink buzz.  No, she was not waking up yet.  No, she refused to be up for the day. She reached for it on the dashboard, not opening her eyes yet until it was about three inches in front her eyes. 

Through eyes that were barely slit open, this was the morning status report from Lana, who seemed no worse for wear after her failed get-together with Bowdaar.  No adequate intel on the slave locations yet – the trackers had moved but not to any final destination.  Eva and the Red Hulls were to continue their other activities for today.

Grand.

Eva let the commlink drop to the floor with a clatter and went back to sleep. 

She was onboard without remembering her feet moving.  Hands were pulling off her guise with care, extracting her from the shell of the Voidhound.  A perfectly warm cup of tea was pressed into hands and she was sat down, firmly, at the lounge table.

They spoke as if she wasn’t there.  She wasn’t, minus a few tenuous threads that enabled her to listen and drink her tea.

“I don’t understand.”

“We got fooled.”

“But – what he did – to her –”   The voice was uncharacteristically high, and Eva’s dread blossomed.  Don’t cry.  Don’t cry.  I’ll cry harder.

“There weren’t any signs.”

“He was always good to her – I never heard or saw anything –”

“She never said anything that worried me.”

A grunt and a series of puffs contradicted the other speakers.  “No.  Remember Hylo.”

There was a moment of clarity in the room.  “And the kid.  Trick.  He was angry.  I heard him –”

He only dared to hurt defenseless things. 

She was no defenseless thing, not then and most certainly not now.

But….

“Hylo.”  Her hands shook as she tried to bring the tea cup to her mouth.  The saucer caught the drops until an overly large hand delicately gripped the china in its claws and steadied her.

Or tried to.  She ultimately needed a little help.  Then dreams stopped coming.

Day 4, nightfall

Someone was lying. Theron was stumped as to whom.  One candidate didn’t make sense.  The other was, in theory, impossible. 

Even as he delved deeper into a data dive in a remote SIS database – something that hadn’t been tapped in ages – his brain replayed a conversation from the night before over one last round of Corellian whiskey and Sullustan gin.

“I have to update your intel.”

“Oh?”

“You mentioned you and Lana couldn’t log into your old work credentials.  Neither could the droids?”

“Mmm?”

Leaning in close, careful not to speak too loudly.

“T3 still can.  I don’t know if A7 can.  He’s been pulling SIS database information for us to…made some transactions safer for my crew.”

A hand purposefully weaving its fingers into her hair and pulling her close so he could mutter into the top of her head.  They’d look like tipsy, would-be lovers.

“Is it cyber espionage when an authorized droid uses the information for a cover for job that will eventually be legitimized?”

“I’ll leave the ethics questions to you.”  A hand to his chest, getting as close as her barstool would allow.  “But based on what T3 said, he couldn’t find anything on the Nova Blades I didn’t already figure out.  You might know better – he said he wasn’t your droid when you were doing your thing on Coruscant.”

“No.  I’ll check.”

She pulled away, something perfectly appropriate and yet something he didn’t want quite yet.  “Are you having a good night?”

“Best night in a while.  I’m sure no one is looking at me for once.”

“Except me.” 

“Except you.”

That warm feeling in his chest hadn’t dissipated by much, long after his liver had filtered out the whiskey, long after his stomach had processed all of that delicious seafood.

The problem remained:  Eva had mentioned that she’d set T3 on a task to find information on the Nova Blades.  He had reported back that there was nothing.

But there was something.  Theron was staring at it right now.

It had been appended to a case that was sealed – circumstantial evidence that was unable to be submitted in the court.  Theron couldn’t determine the case number, no indication of the defendant – the scrub on the files was excellent – perfect--  and without his personal credentials, he couldn’t pry the files open.  He couldn’t even figure out the date of the case – when it was, where it was.  All he could tell was that it had seen the highest courts in Coruscant. 

Either Eva had lied about there being nothing – which seemed stupid, since she knew he would actually check, and in fact, she’d asked him to do so – or T3 had lied.

Lying was not in droid programming.  “I cannot process this request” or “I am unable to carry out this request due to my programming” were the default answers for SIS droids who were compromised or captured.  The final resort for them was a self-destruct.   Lying wasn’t part of the programming provided by SIS.

Eva might have given him the ability to flim-flam and deceive slightly or mislead – but what Theron was seeing was a bold-faced lie, something that was absolutely not true. He knew Eva had skill in droid programming, but in order to actually make the droid lie, her tinkering would have made T3 self-destruct. 

T3 was still here, so Eva hadn’t meddled that extensively with T3’s programming.  She hadn’t lied.  There was a glut of information on the Nova Blades that T3 had not reported to Eva despite her request.

Theron knew he was standing, toes against the main computer in the Rishi safehouse.  In his mind, he was sitting with crossed legs, piles of flimsi files around him, trying to piece the mystery together.  And what was this court case he was looking at?  Obviously, it was about the Nova Blade slave trade, but it was so sealed and so censored that ----

An abrupt buzz brought him out of his mind palace.  It was urgent, and he began his emergence from his deep dive. 

Lana’s voice floated to him.  “Theron, that sounds awfully important.”

“I know, I know, I’m disengaging.  Trying not to leave any doors open behind me.”  Theron would be quick, but never at the cost of being careful in this case.  The op was in motion, and his haste wasn’t going to screw it up.

As soon as his eyes were able to focus on the world around him – the safehouse at Rishi – Theron drew up the message that had nearly rattled his datapad right off the table.

To: Spike

From: Fishman

No holos this time.  VW friendly.  New guys: the Bluebarbs.  Living up to their name.

Bluebarb wasps were known for their poisonous properties – enough of their venom could kill someone with the right sensitivities, or at the very least make them quite sick. 

Theron paused before replying.  What did they want him to do?

To: Fishman

From: Spike

???

Theron consciously kept himself from fidgeting as he waited for Guss to reply.

To: Spike

From: Fishman

EC needs a hot date.  Mandos aren’t made of beskar inside.

Theron's mind snapped the pieces together, and he took the stairs two at a time to hastily scramble together some sort of Rishi wastoid costume in his room.  He didn’t hear Lana’s question.

Akaavi was poisoned -- Eva was in danger.

Chapter Text

Eva’s commlink jingled her assigned tune for Akaavi.  She held up a hand, pausing the conversation she was having with one of the larger dealers in Raider’s Cove.  “Sorry, the Mando in charge of my security just messaged me – she normally doesn’t, if you know what I mean.” 

He was pretty. Dirty blond hair, hazel eyes, skin over-touched by the sun.  He was young, too, but smart enough not to get entangled in his own supply chain.  He was also shrewd; he approached her before his customers decided to make friends with her directly.  She didn’t know his name – didn’t need to.  She knew his face now and Tomota or Risha could take care of the details. 

To: EC

From: ShriekHawk

We have vinegar.  Stick to your usual.

Eva smiled up at her companion.  “Nothing to worry about.  Minor issue up front. Let me just text her back.”

To: ShriekHawk

From: EC

Who had a taste?

Eva completed her message, then turned her full attention toward the dealer.  “As I was saying, Captain, I can see a future cooperative between the Red Hulls and the Bluebarbs – they’re here this evening, after all, curious about you.  I mean, you’ve been here, what, two or three weeks?  Already the Scoundrels dance to your tune and the Void Wings have given up any token resistance after the last night.”

Eva almost snorted but checked the impulse.  “We blew out the back of a cantina to put down that ‘token,’ I’ll have you know.”  She eyed the black glitterstim packets she’d set out on the table.  “Think the Barbs will be the same?”

The man adjusted the sunglasses that perched on his head.  “Hard to say.  They’re more clever than the Wings, better organized, less likely to lose their head even if you take theirs,” he said pointedly.  “I’d say be careful; any opposition to you won’t be open or obvious until it’s already too late.”

“They’re well-named.”  Eva reached for her glass and took a sip of her Menkooro bourbon – Lana had it the other night and she figured she’d give it a shot.  “Relatively small gang here, but they sound like they are quite deadly, like their namesake.”

“Glad you approve.”  His fingers fiddled with the hook of his sunglasses, just behind his ear.

A slight movement on his part, and that was what she had suspected.  Dealer, her foot.  He was the captain of the Bluebarbs after all, and he had a tell.  Eva took another sip, letting her eyes relax.  “So do we have a mutually beneficial deal, then?” she asked, feigning ignorance.  “Red Hulls supply at a reasonable wholesale price, and you stop messing around with whatever passes for ryll around here.  You profit.  Then you do your very, very best to improve our reputation among the Barbs?”

The man’s eyes flickered toward the glitterstim on the table.  “I think I could seal that deal.  But in defense of my own product, not all ryll on Rishi is substandard.”  Reaching into his vest pocket, he tossed a small packet onto the table.

A cursory glance was enough to tell Eva that this was the sort of ryll she would want to run around here, if she wasn’t thinking in a different direction.  “Personal supply,” he offered as explanation.  “Something I got as a treat.  We could finish up the night with it.”

Eva let the liquor swirl in her glass for a moment before replying.  “Making glitteryll with you sounds fun, but maybe at a later date.”  Her lips curled suggestively. 

He persisted with a charming smile.  “We could have some of the vintage I sent over to your table.  I don’t think you had a taste of that yet.” 

“Can’t say I have.”  The word vinegar flashed through her mind.  She reached for the glitterstim on the table.  “How about we finish business here with an evaluation of the goods, then make our way back outside toward that wine? I think we have time to have a good night.”

Eva used the excuse of checking the chrono on her comm link to silently forward Akaavi’s message; she had not received a reply yet.  Someone had to know. 

As her business partner/gang rival indicated his assent, Eva took two opaquely packaged doses from the larger pack.  “You know this is the real thing because of how it’s packed.  The fakes forget the details.”

“It’s fancy dirt if it sees the light – I know,” he replied, extending a hand to take one of the doses.  “You won’t mind if I ask you to go first?”

Eva shook her head.  “No.  I wouldn’t sell something I wouldn’t take myself – dead customers are bad business, after all.” 

The opaque packets of glitterstim were specially designed to go from the darkness of its container directly into the nose of the user or an opaque syringe to ensure quality.  It wasn’t an expensive innovation, but someone trying to turn fast credits on a less than cosmopolitan backwater would try to cut corners in this way.

Eva didn’t like needles.

She tilted her head back as the empty packet slipped from her fingers.  “I knew I forgot to bring some water in here.”

“If it’s real, it’s still good,” she heard him say.  “That should take hold – in how long?”

“It’ll build over the next twenty to thirty, then you coast for – whenever.”  She could already feel the quickening heartbeat, but that might have been from the adrenaline or the anticipation.

When she was sure it had its grip on her, Eva let her chin fall back to its regular position and looked at her partner across the table.   His eyebrows arched as he stared at her.  “The eyes do go first, don’t they?”  He marveled at the almost supernatural glow her eyes now put out – glitterstim’s hallmark.

His hesitation was at an end – he took his dose as well. 

As he stared at the ceiling and complimented the quality of both the drugs and the building, Eva stole a glance at her commlink. 

Two-Boots and Fishman had replied in the negative.  No word from ShriekHawk.  Reception in the back here was too poor to reach the Thief; she knew going in she wouldn’t be able to reach Crown or Bacca.  Fishman asked if EC wanted to end business early tonight. Two-Boots agreed to that idea and said he’d step outside for a smoke, if that was the case.  Fishman suggested she give ShriekHawk a call. 

Instead, quick fingers brought up the last message from ShriekHawk, and her thumb slid over the silent panic button on her comm, and then she watched her rival carefully.  Bluebarbs were deadly indeed; they had to be handled carefully, but with the right number of precautions, she’d heard of wasps’ nests migrated peaceably and profitably. 

But as the man had said, it might have been already too late.

Eva had to find Akaavi.

**

Theron wove his way through the streets, feeling absolutely ridiculous.  Honestly, it had taken very little effort on his part to look the role of a wastoid – his limited clothing after several months on the run was increasingly faded and easy to tear.  He had some items in reserve for when he actually had to look respectable, as well as his eternally serviceable boots, but most of his clothing was headed the way of the dark brown jacket that had met its end earlier this week: rest in pieces.  A patch from one such shirt had been made to improvise an eyepatch that adequately covered his implants.  Dressing like the dregs of Rishi’s pirate community was no difficult feat.

He came upon the warehouse quickly but lingered at a distance.  He’d managed to find the blueprints of the building and collaborate them with Guss’s photos from the other night. Offices upstairs with adjoining bathrooms.  Warehouse space downstairs, converted to gambling floor and bar.  The warehouse had a large door that opened out onto the docks, and he could see people milling around out there.  He was aware of the large ‘queen’s table,’ for lack of better description and the back rooms that lay beyond it on the warehouse level; he wasn’t sure what their purpose had been originally – offices?  Specialized storage?  Unsure what they were being used for now.   Bathrooms back there as well.  Fire escapes on the sides of the buildings, both upper and lower floors.

Theron meandered around the perimeter of the building at a distance.  He had decided to add a limp and a stagger to his gait this evening; they would bother his knee in the morning, but he would rather throw someone else off than risk being recognized. 

On his second perambulation around the building, he noticed a familiar figure standing a ways away from the building, but keeping an eye on it while searching for someone.  Theron muttered an ‘enhance’ command, and his implants’ night vision setting kicked in.  Corso.

Theron made his way over to the solitary figure, who managed not to do a double-take.  He could play it cool. “Sitrep?” he asked in a hoarse voice with a Rishi lilt to it.

Corso gestured for Theron to walk with him, their pace slow due to Theron’s chosen acting method of the night. “Eva’s brokering something with a major player on-planet..”  Theron knew he wasn’t going to get the details on that directly.  “Akaavi alerted her that the wine he brought with him was poisoned, but we don’t know where she is now. Bluebarbs got a reputation on Rishi for trickery, so I’m guessing all the events are connected. I’m here watching doors, Guss is supervising the gambling and the bar.  Bowdaar and Risha had the night off.  Eva needs out of that meeting.  Risha’s willing to come over if we need help, but we’re trying not to look like we’re swarming – don’t want to give away that something is wrong.”

“And that’s why Guss calls me?  To ‘pull’ Eva?” 

Theron only noticed the slightest hitch in Corso’s step.  “Yeah, get her safe so we can usher out the other guy, and then maybe find where Akaavi ended up.  She’s probably fine, but Guss worries.”

The Mon Cal had always had a… soft spot for the Mandalorian, unwelcome and unappreciated as it was. 

Theron frowned slightly.  “If I remember correctly, Eva had a bio reader.  Does all the crew?”

Corso nodded.  “Yeah, but the only person who can activate it is Eva.”

Theron gave him an odd look – that’s not how he remembered Manaan.

Corso cast a furtive look around him  “She told Risha to activate her biochip – yeah.  But Risha couldn’t do it – Eva’s voice command did it.  Little bit of misdirection, in case someone was eavesdropping; they think we can track all the crew, all the time.”

“Makes them think twice about any abduction plot,” Theron conceded.  “And that’s why you need to get her out of the meeting.”

Corso checked the immediate area before opening the door for Theron.  “More like get her separated from whoever she’s doing business with.  I mean, she needs to do what she has to…”  Then Corso quickly walked through the door, holding it open behind him just enough for Theron to take the hint and come through.

“That normal?”

Corso turned on his heel quickly in the entry way to the warehouse, where they were still out  of sight of the night-time occupants.  “This guy seemed less interested in scoring distribution than he was other stuff.  Given Akaavi’s disappeared – I don’t want to think --- ”  Corso gestured at the situation as it was.  “She’s not like that.  Normally.”

Theron had done enough time breaking up human trafficking rings and the often connected drug smuggling rings  to connect dots.  “Last comm from Eva?”

“She attached a panic signal to Akaavi’s messages – not hers.  She’s fine for now, but I don’t know how long that’ll last, if the guy’s she with –”  Abruptly, Corso stopped speaking and physically shoved Theron forward into the warehouse, nearly colliding with someone that had been heading toward the door.

In character, Theron cursed at Corso before wheeling around to stalk toward the back of the warehouse where the spare rooms were, shoving a few patrons as he went.  Despite the music and the mumbling around him, he was able to pitch his hearing toward the various rooms.  Some were being used for sporting, others for gambling, but he could hear steady conversation coming out of one toward the very back.  He didn’t enter the back hallway.  He leaned against the wall, waiting, giving his leg a rest.  As long as the conversation continued, he could hear that she was alive and coherent. 

He wore a leer as he scanned the room, letting his eyes drop noticeably on certain women that were filtering through – some looked back, which made him regret that choice immediately.  His roving eyes eventually found Guss behind the bar.  When Guss finally made eye contact with him, he silently gestured for a drink, now. 

After he sent the barhop scurrying away, Theron looked at the bottle with the dirty label and dark glass, before swigging it, bracing himself for something truly atrocious. 

It was a vanilla cream soda, and Theron nearly burst out laughing in surprise.  Oh, but there was a shot of something mixed in, just enough to leave the scent of hard liquor in his mouth – just enough to throw anyone who dared get in his face, but so little that it would be a waste of his detoxification implants. 

About half-way through the bottle, he heard the door open.  “Should feel it now,” Theron heard her say.

“Yeah.  That wine is calling – you’ll like it,” came a broadly Rishi accent, with tinges of something from the Inner Rim. 

“What do you like?” Eva’s retort came back, and there was an audible slap of hands to clothing and her surprised, high giggle, something artificial to Theron’s ears.

Then he heard a hard collision, like someone being forced up against a wall.  A muffled cry of surprise, then a groan of desire from a distinctly male voice.

Theron involuntarily tensed up. Normally, the word echoed in his head.  He was half-tempted to finish the rest of his drink.  She probably assumed she’d have to resolve this herself.  Some way. 

She didn’t have to.

Theron carefully turned the corner to face down the hallway.  The dim lights in the ceiling revealed that Eva had her business partner pinned up against the wall in a rather passionate embrace. He could see a strategically placed knee between the man’s legs, angled more for his stimulation than for any threat.  He couldn’t see where one hand was, but the other was clearly tangled in his hair, pressing his face into her neck.  Her head was tipped back, eyes closed, brow slightly creased in concentration.  

Some unbidden feeling rose up in him, but he was on mission.  Get her away from him, without breaking cover, without drawing attention to her excuses for any absence.  As Theron’s shadow crossed the side of her face, her eyes opened.

The red-orange glow of her eyes seared the darkness, and she recognized him. 

And she gave him a wink.

The missing hand reappeared and showed him a vial she had pilfered from the man’s interior coat pockets. 

Theron flashed an open palm to Eva, and she silently launched the small container toward him.  He caught it with ease and made it disappear within the folders of his own ragged clothes.  He stepped back and away from the entrance to the hallway in order to lie in wait.    He contemplated the rest of the bottle of spiked vanilla cream soda and elected to reserve it.

The wall creaked as the body weight was removed from it.  Theron heard a squeal from Eva – an angry one that she tried to make sound amorous.  The man’s voice asked, “Is there an upstairs to this place?” 

“Yeah,” she answered, breathy and rushed. He could hear their footsteps approaching, her smaller steps quicker.  She was trying to make distance between them. 

Before he could react, Eva was out of the hallway, overshooting Theron’s hiding place due to her rapid pace.  She wanted away –

The guy following her was a little taller than Theron, but he had nothing on the agent in terms of physical prowess.  After sizing up his rival, running a few calculations in his head, Theron lurched out of the shadow he was hiding in, one hand still holding his drink.  Making a note to apologize to her later, Theron caught up to her with rapid, long strides, and seized her by the collar of her coat. “You’re late,” he growled. 

To her credit, Eva didn’t fight his grasp on her.  He saw her wince slightly at the weight of his hand, which easily encompassed that sensitive place between her neck and shoulder.  “I didn’t forget, I just had to take care of other business.  You don’t own me.”  She smirked darkly up at him and shook off his hand, maintaining her status as captain while suggesting other, more intimate connections to the business partner that now stood just a few feet away.   The other man’s face – which wasn’t bad, if Theron was to be honest – began to twist as he watched a seemingly domestic (albeit dysfunctional) scene unfold. 

“You done?  For now?”  Theron rasped, giving the man a nasty look that required little acting on his part. 

Eva looked over at her thwarted partner.  “Oh, we sealed the business deal but we had some details to finish…?”

The man scoffed.  “I’ll take a raincheck for when you’re less … occupied.”  His eyes strayed to the wine that had been left on the queen’s table.  “Enjoy it, you two.  I got more where that came from.”  

Theron didn’t like that threat.  With his stare still trained on the interloper, he blindly pushed his drink into Eva’s hands.  “Wash your mouth out with this.  You don’t know where he’s been.”

He didn’t let the guy give him a glare; Theron ignored him in favor of possessively watching the woman that had been wanted that night.  She drank the rest of the vanilla cream soda, and he could see when her lips curved and she realized it was a Guss special.  As she turned to look at the bar, her collar came away from her neck, and he could see a dark mark forming. 

He finally placed the emotion he’d had earlier when he wasn’t sure how much of all this was a cover compared to standard business practice.  Now it was all replaced by fury, as he replayed the sound of her yelping. 

That bastard had bit her. 

Theron knew in that moment he had to get himself out of there.  He could not let these feelings run unchecked; they were dangerous to the op.  Rather than breaking someone’s face in, he opted for an alternative vent. 

As Eva finished the drink and passed it off to a passing waiter, Theron effortlessly picked her up and hoisted her over his shoulder.  He heard her gasp, then the catch in her throat as she attempted to check her laughter.  Theron sorted out his trajectory toward the stairs, and he gave one final, parting shot to the man who still lingered, for some ungodly reason.  “You still wanting an invite up?” Theron stepped in on the man’s space, and his rival hastily backpedalled.

Theron made a beeline toward the staircase, mindful of his limp (and cursing his past self for such a stupid idea), holding Eva’s legs to his chest as the rest of her draped over his shoulders and back. She gave some token resistance, but like many women who found themselves in this position, she elected to take advantage of the moment and grab his ass.

Theron nearly jumped out of his skin when she did that, but that was something lovers would do en route to the bedroom – or in their case, the upstairs men’s room.  It was a good cover.  To be honest, he didn’t mind…  he just wished it was in a different context….  And he wished he wasn’t walking up a flight of stairs with the (idiotic) limp.

Theron ground that thought to dust once they were out of sight, turning the corner behind the privacy screens of the upstairs.  His implants informed him of the bathroom immediately to his forward left, and he used his foot to nudge the door open. After he cleared the entryway, he tilted himself forward and let Eva’s feet touch the neglected tile floor.  She slid easily out of his arms.  Theron couldn’t help the training instilled in him.  He asked her, “Glitterstim?” as he warily looked at her eyes, which were still glowing unnaturally.

“He wanted me to do glitteryll – I like remembering most of my nights, so I just went for the glitterstim. My own supply – I’m safe.”

Glitteryll was used to make people forget, whether taken consensually or not.  Combined with his intentions and the antidote to whatever was in the wine bottle, just enough for himself —

Theron grabbed at her collar again, avoiding touching the mark, but revealing it to the harsh lights over the sink.  “I was only half joking about rinsing your mouth out.  You need to get this looked at – I’ll go with…”  he trailed off as he belatedly remembered one of the rumored, unproven side effects of glitterstim – temporary mind-reading. 

Some thought it was just a delusion of users; their senses were already so heightened, all the data threading together easily as the senses collected it.  Someone could easily run a con using the drug’s effects.   

It didn’t matter whether it was hypersensitive sleuthing or actual telepathy.  Eva’s eyes glowed bright as she read him like one of her skypirate novels. 

His eyes dropped away for a moment before reasserting themselves.  “You need to activate Akaavi’’s tracker.  She still hasn’t checked in.”

Eva’s hands were swift even as her eyes remained on him.  “She had a taste of it – I don’t know how much.  She told me it was vinegar – you know, wine that hasn’t aged properly.  Or has been tampered with.” 

Theron hastily pulled out the vial she’d thrown him.  He held it up to the light to get a glimpse of the liquid within.  “Still intact.  Looks like an antivenom.”

Eva squeezed past him toward far wall of the bathroom, which butted against the outside.  She impatiently held her wrist up toward the window, hoping to improve reception.  “The guy was posing as the dealer for the Bluebarbs and a few of the other gangs on planet.  He was actually the leader of the gang itself – it probably is something naturally occurring but lab concentrated.  Sort of a calling card.” 

Theron had discarded his make-shift eyepatch and was pawing through a set of ramshackle cabinets under the sink.  He let the night vision of his implants kick in, and he was able to discern a new-ish first aid kit, likely from Virtue’s Thief’s early shipments.  “Don’t suppose you know if she had any allergies…?”

With a beep, Eva dropped her wrist comm back down to eye level to stare at Akaavi’s vitals.  Theron could see a swift mind at work, accelerated by the drugs.  Something didn’t make sense – but it was gone in a moment, as her brain supplied other pieces, Theron supposed. 

He really shouldn’t be admiring her brain at work while she was high. 

Eva swallowed once, before saying, slowly, “She’s alive.  Right down the hall in the ladies’.”  Then Eva fixed him with one of those Voidhound stares – not a dangerous one, with implicit threats, but the one she used when ordering people.  “Watch the door for us, but switch off whatever hearing enhancements you have.  I need to talk to her. Ship business.”

Theron frowned.  “You don’t trust me.”

Eva didn’t waver, nor did her temper come out to play.  Evenly and firmly, she said, “It’s not about trust in you.   It’s her business and her Captain’s business.”  She paused a second before adding on, “I’d tell Bowdaar not to sniff around, if he was here.”

That had to suffice, as far as assurances could go, he supposed.  “Got your blaster?” Eva crossed her right arm over her body to cross-draw from a shoulder holster within her coat.  Theron pulled his own blaster, a small model.  “Then let’s go.”

**

After Theron had cautiously poked his head out to survey the upstairs, the pair crept down the hall, blasters drawn.  It was assumed that Akaavi was alone, but given the predatory nature of the head of the Bluebarbs, it was unsaid that there was some risk of someone else being up there. 

Eva’s brain was sopping up information – walking up a darkened hallway was an adventure.  The creak of boards, the distant smells and noises of the gambling floor below them, the lingering imprint of Theron’s body heat on her – all were sensory images that pressed in upon her. 

Another sensation under her boot caused her to look down.  The consistency was slick, like motor oil.  A stain on the floor was still slightly bright in color, though it was drying down to an easily concealed brown color.  “Theron.”  Eva looked up at him briefly before immediately dropping her eyes back down.  There was a trail of fresh blood – small droplets at first, but increasing as they drew nearer to where Akaavi’s bioreader said she was. 

In silence, Theron passed her the medical kit and antivenom. 

As they reached the door, Eva felt her commlink vibrate.  Theron’s hand went up to his implants immediately.  Lana, considerately enough, sent a high-priority holo message in text form – no audio. 

From: Unknown

Two trackers have cycled through.  We have a fix.  Recommend midday recovery mission.  Outside contractor en route. 

“When all creatures of the night are asleep,” Eva muttered to Theron.  “Tell her I acknowledge.”  Eva looked down at the floor beneath her one last time before leading with her blaster into the bathroom.

No visible people in there, as the door opened. 

Eva shrank back to the far wall to ensure nobody was behind the door as it swung shut. 

In the eerie silence, Eva stared at the blank wall in front of her before dropping into a crouch to see beneath the stalls, checking for occupancy. 

No.   Nothing.

Mandos were like cats – they crawled off to die unseen. 

The trail of blood was evolving from the occasional drop and drip to spatters. 

Then they disappeared before the first of the stall doors were reached.

Eva used the blaster in her hand to push open each stall door, safety off, ready to fire.

Nothing. No one. 

Until the last locked door.  “Akaavi,” she hissed desperately. 

An almost inaudible groan reached her ears.  If she hadn’t been rolling on glitterstim, she might have missed it. 

“Akaavi!” she said, louder. 

“Captain,” finally came the weak response. 

“Open the damned door.”

“No.”  The word was stronger now. 

Eva began to recite the medical readout that she’d memorized in the minute she’d seen it.  “Blood pressure, elevated nearing hypertensive stage for Zabraks.  Swelling, feet and face, likely.  Fever.  Likely got a headache due to a the blood pressure and the histamine response.  Nausea.”    She stopped.  She could hear Akaavi’s breathing, no sign of movement yet.  “Cramping.  Rapidly declining hormone levels. Bleeding.”

Silence.

Eva understood why Bowie had shaved part of his fur off after she’d been shot.  The smell of blood was oppressive and lingered.

Eva cursed, then shoved the first aid kit and antivenom under the stall door.  “Take the whole vial.  Then clean yourself up the best you can.”

Silence.  The kit remained untouched.

“If you don’t, I will crawl under there.  Then I’ll have one of the boys carry you home, like some damsel in distress. You know, I think Guss has a fantasy holo about that –”

A red and black hand shot out and scooped up the items with a snarl.  “I did not consume that much.”

“The dose makes the poison, typically size-based.” 

Silence, but Eva heard the squeak of a lid being turned open.  She saw the vial drop, empty, onto the floor and bounce once before her nimble hand shot out to grab it. 

They knew what they were talking about. 

The medkit was rifled through, and Eva could hear the sterile gauze packs being torn into.

“Who is outside?” Akaavi’s voice came with no fire in it. 

“Agent Shan.  The boys didn’t want it to look like the crew was panicking and wanting to run to your aid – which we were, by the way – so they called him in to get me out of a meeting.  I told him to turn his hearing enhancements off.” 

A grunt in response.  Then “Back to the ship?”

“To finish this?  Yeah.  Fire escape doable?” 

“Yes.”

The door finally swung inward, and Akaavi stood over Eva, stoic.  Akaavi’s vibrant red and black coloring on her face had faded; she looked like a de-saturated holo of herself.  Eva stared up to study her crewmate for a moment.  “I’ll tell Theron to go his own way back to his hideout.” 

“Yes.”

**

The hum of medbay comforted Eva.  It was like most of the internal gearwork of the ship – integrated into her own rhythm and pace on the ship.  It was silence.  It was home. 

Eva hoped Akaavi felt the same way, nearly five years after joining the crew.  If she felt safe, the conversation would be…somewhat easier.  The Captain didn’t know how direct this would get.  It wasn’t something that came up on the ship.

Hell, nobody had taken this option in the ship betting pool, that’s how … unexpected this was.

Eva flipped on all the machines and tossed her coat onto a nearby chair.  Akaavi eventually arrived in medbay after changing out of her Red Hulls costume. Now she wore her utilitarian sleepwear and deposited herself on a bed without prompting. 

Eva looked over at her patient, feeling the last tiny peaks of glitterstim run through her system before the big, big letdown.  Whether it was mind-reading or hyper-attuned senses, Eva took a final read on Akaavi.

The medbay computer was then turned on and focused on the Zabrak’s vitals and system readouts.  Eva watched the data filter in.  Cross-reference was made to her previous medbay visits.  All the bones broken and healed, all the pieces of flesh sheared off over the years and reattached or scarred over, the missing appendix, the three artificial ribs that she never talked about from a time before joining the crew, and, of course, her new birth control implant. 

Eva studied the date of installation. 

She opened the conversation.  “So, that guy from the Batuuan Harvest festival a little over a month ago.”

A sigh, then a hum of affirmation.

“They advertise this device as being able to take care of this sort of thing if you got it replaced in the window… guess we were out of it by the time we got to Coruscant.”  Eva kept her eyes on the screen in front of her. 

In the periphery of Eva’s vision, Akaavi shifted uncomfortably on the medbay bed.  “No, I took the risk. I cut the timing too close.” 

Eva said nothing.  She wasn’t going to insult either of their intelligences.

“I thought it would have resolved already,” Akaavi finally volunteered  “If I was not normal next week, then a solution would have been sought.”

“You broke ship rules by doing that.” 

Eva didn’t have the same business her parents had.  Some lifestyle choices were simply incompatible with serving on Virtue’s Thief.   

The Zabrak grunted in agreement.  “It’s deserving of a pay dock.”

“I’ll just hassle you more than usual once you’re back at top form.”  Eva scanned the read out.  “Medically, it’s over.  You need to call someone?”

She shook her head.  “Kept or not, I have no feelings or obligations.” 

“Yeah.  Ok.”  Eva read over the data. “You want me to keep this on record or not?”

Akaavi didn’t answer, so Eva looked over at her.  “It’s your choice.  If it goes in, everyone eventually knows what happened.  If it doesn’t, nobody does, but if it happens again –”

“It won’t happen again,” Akaavi quickly replied. Her body, though weakened by its ordeal, tensed up, as if ready to go to war with Eva over the topic.

With a lazy gesture, Eva switched off the record, saving nothing.  Akaavi watched her with intense green eyes. “We all have our secrets,” Eva observed.  “Not everything has to be common knowledge with the crew.  The Captain always needs to know, though.”  She stood with her hands on her hips, shoulders slightly hitched back  -- she was the boss, but it was something that didn’t have to be insisted upon.  Akaavi knew it.  The crew knew it. 

Akaavi met her gaze easily.  “That was my first mistake.”

“But I guess it makes us even.”

Akaavi stared at her a moment, then closed her eyes and leaned back on the bed, sighing.  “The captain has no obligation to the crew in that regard.  You owed me nothing.  You owe me nothing.  It was different.”  A pause as she let her body settle down onto the medbay bed.  “How long must I rest?”

“Assuming you’re a good girl who takes all her medicine as instructed, about a week.  You don’t have to stay here unless something else happens.”

The eyes opened again.  “Have we gotten any intel on the trackers?”

Eva nodded.  “Just came through before we found you.  It’s tomorrow, middle of the day when most of the pirates are likely asleep.”

Akaavi made a disgusted noise at herself.  “I should be on that op.  It’s my turn and –”  

Eva shook her head.   “Unknown place, unknown amount of resistance, limited intel – I’m taking Bowie.  You were my first choice, but that’s a moot point now.”

Akaavi rolled to her side to stare at her.  “That is a completely awful idea, Eva.”

The use of her first name threw her off momentarily, but a small spike of indignance helped her reclaim her footing.  She didn’t need to hear this from Guss and Akaavi both, since their agreement would signal an apocalypse of some sort. “I take the risks.  Bowie minimizes the risks.” 

“Not here.”  Though her pallor was still off, Akaavi’s green eyes still were lively and intense. Risha didn’t have to tell Akaavi about the whole Pollaran connection for Akaavi to see trouble before it happened.  It’s why she was intel and security on Virtue’s Thief. 

For a moment, Eva wondered whether she should give up command if Corso or Bowdaar started lecturing her – if her decisions were becoming obviously bad ones. 

Fortune smiled on Eva as she heard a rapping at the ship door.  There was a limited cast of characters that would do this, since her crew could walk right on board with their clearance.  “I think we’re getting checked on by our Republic handler.”

Akaavi rolled herself off the medbay bed.  “I’ll head to bed and self-monitor.  I’ll let Risha know to… watch for me.”

“Yeah, being poisoned is not fun,” Eva agreed.  She walked over to the med supply cabinet.  “You need anything?  I think you’re safe for pain killers.” 

Akaavi shrugged.  Eva dispensed a dose of two pills and offered them out to Akaavi.  “The worst is over, as we said.  But you don’t need to punish yourself.”

A flicker of an expression appeared on Akaavi’s face, but it was gone too quickly for Eva to read.  The glitterstim was on the wane.  Akaavi took the pills and then headed toward the medbay sink for a glass of water.  “Thanks, Captain.”

“Sleep well.”

Maybe those that knew were being overprotective – knowing too much and putting themselves into her shoes rather than letting her be herself in her shoes, because nobody else understood --

Eva withdrew from medbay, heading toward the ship door.  She passed T3 in the hallway.  “We got a visual on the security holo?”

“Noisy person = Agent Shan.”

“Thanks.”

Her pace didn’t slow down as she rounded the final turn and then jumped down the steps leading to the ship exit.  The gangplank was still down so Guss and Corso could crawl in eventually. 

Eva consulted her chrono.  Stars.  It was almost 20:00 standard time – nearly 0:00 Rishi time, meaning she and Bowdaar had to call it a night so they could prep for tomorrow.  Whatever Theron’s business was, she hoped it was quick. 

As Eva pulled the door open, Theron’s hand was raised to knock one more time.  He gradually lowered his hand, looking slightly sheepish.  “Hi.  How is she?”

Eva leaned against the doorway.  “She’ll be fine.  Needs about a week of rest to make sure it’s out of her with no lingering effects – I don’t know exactly what was in the drink, but the antivenom seems to have done the job.  I’ll go with Bowie tomorrow to do the job.” 

Theron nodded.  “Good.” 

Eva read his body language as wanting to go, so she started to pull back into the ship, readying for his send off.

But then he stepped in toward her.  “How’s the neck?”

Eva blinked.  She hadn’t even thought of it, and he read that off her immediately.  Before she could even respond to the question, he had tilted her head to look at the mark again, which had likely reached a deep red shade, punctuated by purple marks where teeth had been.  She’d seen marks like that before – had ‘em before.

Eva sure as hell wouldn’t refer to this one as a lovebite though. 

“He broke the skin,” the words tumbled across the skin of her neck, and even that stung, just a little.  “Let me –”  Theron stopped himself.  Restrained himself.  Then Eva almost heard him break the chain.  “I’d have a better angle on it than you.”

“I’ll take an antibiotic shot and ice it,” she offered. 

Theron drew back, a dissatisfied look on his face.  “I know –”  again, the stumble, the chain, then the break – “I know how to make bruises disappear quickly…when I’ve had to on ops.  I don’t want to see it anymore.”

The last line caught her off guard. It surprised him too, based on the expression on his face.  Her mind went back to the face he’d worn before she’d extracted the antivenom bottle from the jerk’s interior pockets.  Before he knew it wasn’t at all real. 

“Never took you as a jealous guy,” she said softly.

“Neither did I,” Theron admitted, quietly. He shifted his weight slightly, letting a nervous hand come up to rub the back of his neck. 

They lingered in the fragile space. 

Eva stepped back from the door, a silent invitation in. 

He only hesitated a moment more before his hand dropped, and he stepped through. 

Chapter Text

Day 5

“Intel to Captain, are you in position?”  Theron flipped a few switches to link in the Thief to their comms.  Eva and Bowdaaar had taken a couple of speeders out to the remote island that the trackers had landed on.  Bioreaders activated and trackers on, both Virtue’s Thief and the hideout’s occupants could see them.

“Affirmative.  I can visualize the containers we tagged at the top of the hill. Nothing more amusing than a Wookiee in a stealth belt murdering slavers.” 

Theron couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face.  “You two have fun.”

(Sixty hours later, there would no words that he would regret more. He had spoken in ignorance.  That was a less than optimal state for an agent of the Republic Strategic Information Service.)

At this time, however, Theron was still mulling over the events of the previous evening – about twelve hours before.  It hadn’t taken long for him to rid Eva of her bruises.  After treating the wound with oral and injected antibiotics, he’d set to work on carefully clustered shots of kolto combined with a few hyposprays of medical liquid nitrogen.  Once the blood vessels were repaired, it was just a matter of removing the blood bursts trapped in the skin. 

“What sort of op did you need to do this for?”

“One where the guilty party would have a bruise shaped like the security actuator; I had to smack it hard enough to set it off so I wouldn’t get caught with the goods, but that within itself would catch me red-handed, literally.  By dumb luck, I had a blaster in my dominant hand, so at least I only lost use of my left hand for a day.”

“This better not make it so I can’t turn my head—”

“No, it’s not as extensive as my entire palm.  You also have a fully stocked medbay at hand. I had a medpack in a hotel room.” 

Lana leaned spoke through the commlink.  “I’m sending coordinates for a rendezvous site with our off-world transportation.  She…has an interesting linguistic style, even for a Twi’lek.”

“She is a good kid. A little abrasive, but she knows what’s right.  Career smuggler like yourself.  Just got her own route and ship, no partners anymore.” Theron couldn’t help but feel proud of Teff’ith.  Unlike Eva, she hadn’t inherited a ship and a business; she’d clawed her way to the top, despite her regular misfortune of helping Theron, which caused business setbacks.  “She likes being a captain, not crew.  Thinks I’m an idiot.”

Eva’s light laughter over the comm gave him the same warm feelings he had last night.

“Sorry you feel like you have to do this.”

“I volunteered.  And you didn’t have a lot of options.” 

“I probably could have figured something else out if I knew you were coming.”

He didn’t have an answer for that.  He tried to fixate on that one persistent blood vessel that hadn’t quite closed yet.  He readied another shot of kolto.

She was still as he did what he had to.  When she felt him move on from the troubled spot, she clarified, “I don’t do jealousy games like some dames do.”

“Like you said, I don’t own you.”

“You don’t, but I feel guilty …  I saw your face when you found us.”

“Sorry. I shouldn’t — it wasn’t appropriate for me -- ”

“Don’t be sorry.  And please be inappropriate more often.”

A hot flash.  A pause in his work.  “When we’re out of this.”

“Promise?”

He had to stop to collect himself again, but he finished his work with a grin.  “I promise.”

“We’re moving.  Captain out.”

“Crown to Captain, we’re watching from home.”  Since the slave camp was so far out from Raider’s Cove, their transmissions were not guaranteed to be secured.  As a result, they were using their private call signs that day. 

“Acknowledged.” 

Lana arched a brow as she looked at the computer read-outs.  “Is it just me, or do they seem…protective of her?  More than usual.  Normally we hear from them at the end of a perilous op, not the beginning.”

Theron shrugged.  “Rough night at the warehouse.”

Lana gave him a look.  “You were out late.”

“But not past my curfew,” he said lightly.  “Minor situation handled.  All covers maintained.”

Lana lowered her chin slightly then raised it again.  Her face was slightly puckered.

“You feeling left out?”  Theron threw out there.

Lana tilted her head back and forth twice.  “Somewhat – not because of what happened with Bowdaar,” she quickly added. “I know they’re your assets, not Imperial.  But there’s something else.  Something not quite right on that ship.” 

So Theron’s gut feelings weren’t failing him after all, despite last night.  “How do you mean?”

Lana winced slightly.  “The Mon Cal – Guss – he can sense the Force but not wield it, correct?  It flows past him and around him?”

Theron gave a half-shrug. “I guess? I’m as Force numb as it comes.”  He’d never fully disclosed his Jedi mental training regime to her.  He still kept it up; he meditated daily at Coruscant’s dawn, wherever he was.  It was harder to maintain on Rishi, but he still clocked the same number of weekly sessions; Rishi’s week had an extra day to atone for the lost 4 hours the other days of the week. 

Lana brushed her bangs back behind her ear.  “Well, Guss is somewhat of a large stone in the middle of the river – the river representing the Force.  And I can sense something happening around the stone.  He’s not changing, but somehow, things around him are.  It’s… troubling.  He’s a unique entity in the Force.  I’m unsure if the Sith screening tests ignore sentients like him or simply aren’t well-attuned enough to find—”

“Captain to Intel, we have a situation.” 

Lana abrupted stopped and punched up a map with Eva’s location.  “We read you.”

“Holos are worth a thousand words.”  Eva had sounded so lively a few minutes before – now, that energy had drained out of her. 

Images began to shoot through Eva’s macrobinoculars to the powerful processor on the Thief and over the secured line to the hideout; it was a nifty little network that T3 had cooked up. 

What they saw was not simply a random collection of slaver containers haphazardly skewed near mining facilities.

“It’s an entire series of slave camps,” Theron breathed.  “We’re not dealing in a liberation of a hundred.”  His stomach plummeted to his boots.  This…

This was the sort of break he had wanted back when he worked sentient trafficking for SIS.  This was not what he wanted to deal with on top of a massive galactic conspiracy of cultists. 

A few grunts from the Wookiee weren’t picked up by the translator.  “Come again?”  Lana asked. 

“He says the size of it reminds him of the slave camp the Exchange had on Dromund Fels about 50 years ago.”  She stopped, and Theron could almost see in his mind Eva turning to Bowdaar, hands on her hips as she said, “And how many is that?”

The translators picked up Bowdaar’s response clearly this time. “Between 2500 and 5000 sentients.  The camps are divided up – you see, into three?  Two large, one small?  One for males, one for females, and one for those who need procedures before leaving: branding, collaring, tattooing, prosthetics.”

Theron saw Lana mouth quietly to herself “alteration.”  She was learning.

Eva exhaled loudly enough that static was generated over the comm lines.  “This isn’t going to be an operation of inconvenience.  We’re breaking a spine here.  Captain to Crown, hail the Warthog.  I know he’s keeping eyes on the sky for us, but --- too much to do.  Also, prep the Thief for launch.  Captain to Intel, ETA on your asset?”

Theron looked at Teff’ith’s flight plan.  “Before nightfall.  You’ve got just over four hours.”  Anticipating the next question, he offered, “She’s flying an Aurore for this job – we thought it would be enough to get them all off-world in one shot.”

“Better than two XS stock lights.”  Sounds of fabric scraping rock met their ears as Eva sat down, or at least that’s what it sounded like to Theron. 

Lana gave voice to what Eva was likely thinking, and what Theron was most certainly thinking:  “We need to rethink this entire operation phase and quickly.” 

Then Eva switched her comm off. 

Theron reached up to try to re-establish the connection.  No, nobody was jamming them.  They could still see her transponder on screen.  Theron and Lana exchanged a look.

Something wasn’t right.

**

The Captain of Virtue’s Thief sat on a large rock, hunched over like some vulture. 

She should have called Rogun once they knew they were going for this. 

She hadn’t bothered to ask how big Darmas’ ‘pocket money’ project was. 

He hadn’t gotten to where he was by playing small, professionally or at sabacc or with her. 

She should have known or at least anticipated something like this.

She should have called Rogun. 

The Wookiee stood next to her, arms crossed.  “We can take out the guards.  The fear of them is larger than their numbers.”

“And then what, Bowie?  It’s one thing to move a couple hundred people rapidly using a transporter, maybe let a few of them stay overnight in the warehouse until we can do a second run.  We’re talking ten times that much.” She let her hands come up to cover her face, blocking out the midday sun.  She tried to organize her thoughts, ease her breathing, and block certain faces in her memory. 

Eva was failing. 

Risha was speaking over the comm now.  “I can get a life form scan once the Thief is in range.  I don’t doubt he’s right, but numbers matter at this point.” 

Eyes still closed, Eva brought the wrist comm up to her mouth. “Can you hail Grumpy?”

There was a momentary silence on the other end.  “What do you want me to say to get him on the line?”

Eva let her wrist drop down to her side, and she opened her eyes to stare out at the very pinnacle of her ignorance.  After a good minute or two, she raised her wrist to reply.  “Tell ‘em we’re going to finish Darmas Pollaran’s business.  All of it.” 

Risha took a deep breath.  “Well, that should get him on the line.”

Rogun wasn’t going to like this.

It apparently roused other people on the ship as well.  Eva heard Akaavi, now up from her sickbed, hissing at someone in the cockpit, “What does he have to do with any of this?”

“Hell, I don’t know,” Corso muttered back. 

Bowdaar hadn’t been clued in either, but he didn’t seem surprised.  Eva muted the commlink as he spoke.  “This is where he got them from,” he said in a low voice.

“Most of them,” she acknowledged.  “Some of them were from here, but others were dropped off here by the Hutts or the Imps.  It’s what keeps the slavery rings in the Republic alive.”

“They would want you dead, Voidhound,” Bowie crooned. 

Eva stifled a laugh that barely had any heart in it in the first place.  “You ever think of giving up this life and going to join some investigative agency?  You put the pieces together faster than I did.  Rogun had to tell my stupid ass.”

“You get clever with years.  I have many on you, little --” 

Eva cut him off.  “Don’t call me that now.  When we’re here.  I was a grown woman when I fell in with this–”

“You never –”

Just then, Rogun’s voice cut through the commlink.  “What the hell are you doing?”

“Found Darmas’ pocket money.  2500 to 5000-sentient occupancy sound right to you?” she replied tartly.

Initially, silence came through the commlink.  Then:  “You’re that kid that was told the electro-oven was hot and had to touch it anyway,” Rogun groused.

She felt the anger spike through her.  Eva did not reply.  The Voidhound did.  “I am not – and I was not – a child.  This ends here.  What transports can Voidfleet get here on short notice?”

A low growly drone came from Rogun’s throat, a noise of hesitation before saying, “No.  You want to advertise you’re down there?”

She barreled onward, disregarding his concerns.  “Aurore class ships can handle a few hundred.  We’d need a squadron of them, at least, if this place is anywhere near capacity. Larger freighter might work, but speed is an issue.  I want this place cleared out – tonight.”

“I thought you said you wanted to live long enough to enjoy your credits,” Risha coolly remarked.

She was undeterred.  “How long have they had their lives stolen from them?”

Rogun broke through the comm again.  “This a mass migration that is going to get noticed by the Nova Blades, the governments, hell, even the random spacer who gets his jollies off from watching traffic patterns.  You’re exposing yourself here.” 

She stood up and looked out over the camp complex.  “What’s the point of having it all if you can’t use it?”  If you can’t change the way things are --- affect the balance of power?” 

A crunching sound came through the commlink; Rogun had broken something in his office.  “You’re on a fucking crusade.  You’re trying to right an unrightable wrong – !”

“And why shouldn’t I?”  With all this hard power people keep telling me I’m wasting, why shouldn’t I?” 

“It wasn’t your actions that caused this,” Akaavi started, but she didn’t get to finish the rest.

“No, it was what I didn’t do.  Didn’t  see.  Didn’t know.  I wasn’t a child – I—”

She realized she was on the verge of yelling and blowing their cover atop the vista, and Bowdaar was staring at her, so alarmed, so worried ---

Little Girl, you aren’t going to Corellia. Not like this.

A cold calmness settled over her.  “ShriekHawk, I thought you wanted to see some hard power.  To see me take what the Republic was unwilling to defend.”

Unwilling to back down, Akaavi responded, “Not all the cost-risk factors were made known to your crew before starting this venture.” 

She struck Achilles’ heel with deadly precision and knew it.  Akaavi knew that this was the one thing that would deter Eva from any impulsive path and anything ruled by that unfeeling creature of the underworld. 

It sent her reeling.  Eva’s face faltered – she felt it.  Dizzy, she sat down hard on her perch, eyes still fixed on those below.

I nearly got them all killed, because I couldn’t see.

Voice flat.  “We are taking out the slave camp here today.  This is the job.  We all knew that when we woke up this morning.”

Nobody spoke.

Eva pressed her hand to her forehead.  She could feel the headache coming on.  “What do we do with thousands of newly freed people?  We can’t just set them loose on Rishi all at once – they need to get out of here.  They need to go home…if they still got one.”

“They need medical care and food,” Bowdaar said from experience. 

“Nobody needs to die for them.”  Rogun’s voice was harsh. 

Eva had almost forgotten entirely that Corso was in the cockpit when the familiar twang finally was heard.  “When I was a merc, we got a job to liberate a bunch of folks from separatists – entire village.  Cuz of how banged up everything else was on the planet and all the things that were broke with the local government, we got rid of the separatists and kept the people where they were—they had the infrastructure.  We just….made it better for them.”  He cleared his throat.  “Treated ‘em with some dignity.  Respect.  Made sure they got their medicine….”

Risha interrupted him, but Eva felt her own jaw tremble when she heard how fragile she sounded.  “You made them stay in that place where…all that happened to them?  Where they saw things?”

Nobody on that commlink needed to specify what Risha meant.

Corso’s seat creaked, as Eva imagined him leaning over toward Risha, drawl thickening even as his eyes dropped in deference to her.  “We didn’t have the transport to whisk them all away to a new place.  We were just a tactical force – we didn’t have the firepower to afford attracting attention to ourselves to get them out.  But we did have the government’s resources to keep them safe – there.”

Silence.  A breeze from the sea made the trees around Bowdaar and Eva wave.  Distant calls from a few birds were now audible. Eva took a few breaths before speaking again. “How many were you, Two Boots?  Same number as the Hulls – the ones that checked out, anyway?”

“I reckon.”  He paused. “Ain’t gotten far from Raider’s Cove.  I can call our big-eyed friend.”

Rogun spoke next.  “I can modify the next shipment of supplies.  It’ll launch once Crown gives me numbers.”

“So this is it?” Eva asked, rising to her feet.

An awkward silence, then Risha simply said, “You’re the captain. Is this it?”

Eva shut her eyes for a moment, trying to will herself to get her act straight.  “I still want the Thief and the Warthog to come for their medbays.  The worst will go off with Spike’s friend.”  She opened her eyes.  “Other than that….that’s it.”

A shrill beep rang out.  It demanded a response – it was Intel, who’d been left in the dark for this entire conversation. 

Well, that was at least 2 people that didn’t think she was becoming incompetent.

**

Theron was only slightly relieved when Eva picked up on the second ping.  “Status?” he asked.

“We’re going.  We can’t extract them as planned.  They stay.  They get off the planet a shipload at a time.”  Eva’s voice was clipped, and he could hear a certain jagged quality to it.  Conversations had been had, and he was not privy to them.  He and Lana exchanged a look.  She gestured to him – his asset, his issues.

“Supply in situ?  Management?”  He pressed a hand to his temple as his eyes went back up to the rudimentary map they’d constructed from intel and the early readings off the Thief’s scanners.  That ship was turning back around to Raider’s Cove now.

“Yes.  And the Hulls – the ones we already vetted.”  Theron could hear Eva and Bowdaar moving down toward the camp and he could see their beacons in motion.  “The two smug ships will offer urgent care to those who need it, and your friend can get the worst off away from here.  Where’s she taking them?”    

“Somewhere safe, I assure you.” For the same reasons they were using call signs, Theron wasn’t inclined divulge where Teff’ith did business; the only reason they even mentioned the ships by name was that they were ghost ships – it didn’t matter what they were called, as they were unregistered and untraceable.

And yet… “Do you need back-up out there?” he asked.  Theron predicted her answer correctly.  

“No.”

“Don’t cut out us out of the comm circle again,” he sternly said. “This may be a Red Hulls op, but it’s also our op as well.”  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lana silently nod in agreement. 

“Understood.”  Then the line went idle. 

That was unsatisfying. 

**

The fan over Theron’s head clipped the afternoon light and caused infrequent shadows over his workspace.  He could hear the drone of the main computer and the higher-pitched whine of the strategy table.  Despite the fact he’d been able to deal with it for the past few weeks with no viable distraction, now all of this boring noise ground on his nerves. 

There had been brief comms among the ships and with the strike team.  The Thief’s scanners had indicated that there were about 1000 biologically female life forms, 1600 biologically male life forms, and perhaps 200 life forms in the medical building.  Roughly, the camp was just over half capacity. 

“That should be about 30 guards,” Lana quietly stated.  “They’re armed. They use fear to keep the numbers in line.  More on the male side than female side.  Maybe a handful in the medbays, mostly for the protection of any medical staff.” 

Neither Eva or Theron argued with her estimation. 

Eva’s rationale had involved liberating the women’s camp first, then moving on to the medical camp; the pop was lower and more manageable for her and Bowdaar.  She needed able-bodied people who were willing to stay with the sick and wounded, meaning finding those that perhaps were not as familiar or willing to handle blasters; not everyone was from a Core World where gender equality was encouraged.  Also, armed men moving into the women’s camp would be alarming; armed women moving into the men’s camp would trigger initial confusion, then relief once they realized they had been prisoners too.

The waiting was the hardest part.  The wait for the initial report. The wait for the confirmation they were in. The wait for the first success, the first recruitment, the clearing of guards, the collection of intel. 

The wait.

Theron watched the chrono.  Nothing was running late; all the information they were getting lined up to a logical timeline.  There was nothing to panic about. 

Then, finally, “Guard tower 1 completely disabled.  We’ve been noticed by the right people.” 

Theron felt some tensions escape his shoulders.  “What condition are they in?” 

“Reasonable.  They’re being fed so they can work or sold off-world.  …It’s not as bad as it could be.”  Theron could hear an effort at trying to be bright and optimistic, but they all knew the work was draining and depressing.

Then it became downright harrowing.  Eva’s commlink was typically left on idle unless she spoke into it directly, seeking advice from the ship or from  Intel.  It would only go off if something of high volume occurred, like a blast or ….

Or screaming.

From the telemetry, the last of the guards had been ousted; she had blended in with the prisoners until she was revealed, Eva had commented.  The Thief had just sent notification that they would land as close as they could to the medbay.  They had extra help on board.  By the time the medical camp was cleared out, they would have an idea of who had to go first with Teff’ith, who would be arriving shortly thereafter.  Things were going to plan.

But then the screaming. 

Eva’s commlink activated as she was exploring a bunk room, according to the map data Bowdaar had found in a databank in one of the guard posts.  She’d probably heard it first and went to investigate, blasters drawn, long before the electronics started to pipe it into Lana and Theron’s hideout. 

“They took him!  They took him!”  were a few words Theron was able to make out; it was in Gran, a language he hadn’t spoken in a long time.  Static and sobbing distorted the rest. 

“Kriff,” Eva muttered as the wailing continued.  Then she said, loudly, “Anyone know the language? I got a translator but I can’t speak to her.” 

There was a general hubbub, a conversing among the other female inmates, deciding amongst themselves who would explain.  Finally one voice drew close to Eva as she spoke.  “They took her boy this morning --- took him to the med camp.” 

“Was he sick?”

“They were preparing to send him off-world.”

“We’re going there next.”   There was a sound of fabric moving as Eva shoved her captain’s coat’s sleeves up and away from her wrist.  “Intel, have there been any transports off Rishi since this morning?  I know there was one last night, late.”

Lana’s hands were already racing around the data collected by the Warthog; Rishi’s air traffic control was so poorly and inconsistently maintained that Jakarro had taken it upon himself to use his ship as a monitor.  “No, nothing from that quarter of the planet.  There was a shipment of exonium earlier, but the passengers were all Kel’Dor; their atmosphere on ship wouldn’t permit for a --- what is that person?”

“Gran,” Eva answered.  She said to the woman next to her.  “Tell her that he’s probably still on planet, and I’m going to find him probably within the next hour or two.”

The other woman did as requested, but that only made the woman louder, her begging directly specifically toward Eva.  “He’ll be ruined!  He couldn’t come home with me!  We’d be outcasts!”

Theron thumbed a switch on his board.  “Eva, the Gran have castes.  People with disabilities are stigmatized, no matter how successful they are.  Major body alterations – depending what they are – are viewed similarly.  If you can get to him before—”

Eva cut him off.  “Understood. I’m going now.”  The screaming began to fade almost immediately as Eva started to make tracks – it was distance, not comfort or relief that caused the volume to decrease.

Bowdaar grunted from somewhere nearby, “I’m going with you.”

As Eva moved, voices near her were picked up by the still-open comm link.  “Are you going now?”  “I got a bone to pick with the head nurse.” 

The babble continued as Eva reached the outer doors.  “Bowie, you want to introduce them to the guard’s weapons cache?  I’ll go ahead.”

More voices chimed in.  “My father taught me –”  “It’s point and shoot, right?”  “I was a security guard at a store on Coruscant before this whole mess started—” 

The commlink went as the sound levels dropped. 

Lana gazed at the telemetry flowing in and at the progress both Eva and the Thief were making.  “She should be able to infiltrate just as the Thief comes in range.  Bowdaar looks as if he’s figured out who can already shoot and he’s moving with them toward her.  Obviously, he’s not stealthed, but she is.” 

Theron nodded, silent. 

“Hey, Bacca,” Eva said through the commlink.  “I’m not moving on this until you get here – security is starting to swarm.  They know something happened over at the other camp.”

“I left a few of the armed women back at the camp in case there is trouble.  I have a small group with me – one was a nurse before all of this.” 

Theron thought to himself about other lives, interrupted, that he’d done the victim debrief for.  So few had actually gone back to their old lives prior to captivity. 

“Thief to Captain.  We’re seeing some chatter, and we’re in range,” Corso’s voice came through.

“Jam it.”

Theron spoke up.  “Just be aware the jam will attract their attention and speed up the flow from the men’s camp.  More to deal with now, less later.  Granted, the jam will keep the Nova Blades not already at the camp from coming.  Be careful.”

“Aye aye.” 

The two spies watched as gradually, the tracked dots of the ship, Eva, and Bowdaar and his cluster of vengeful women descended upon the medical camp. 

“Bacca, I’m seeing a guard rotation.  You almost here?”

“Yes.  Go ahead and create the distraction.”

Theron and Lana exchanged a look.  There were some things that they were not privy to, and that was perfectly fine, for the sake of their sanities. 

Ten minutes later, the commlink activated with a blast.  Theron stepped back from his speakers and reached up to his implants to dial down the volume. 

“Need to work on your fuse length, Cap,” Corso quipped.  “I felt that from back here.” 

“So I miscalculated, slightly.  Ready?”

Bowdaar let out a battlecry in response, making Theron doubly pleased with himself that he’d adjusted the volume. 

Minutes passed.

Then.

“Bacca, where are you?”  Blaster fire was ricocheting off walls, and alarms were going off from inside the medical center’s buildings, from the sound of it. 

No response. 

“Captain to ship, where is he?  Sorta assumed he was behind me as usual and – ”  A crackling noise burst through the comm and Eva cursed.  “I’m in cross-fire – nobody was covering my back.”

“That’s not like him.”  Risha sounded worried.  “That’s really, really not like him at all.”   A few switches were flipped and a beep went off.  “He’s alive.  Conscious.  Fine.  Just not moving.  Looks like he was trying to sneak directly into the ward itself and take them from behind while you made your ruckus.  He just…never came through.” 

“That was the plan.  He’d lead any ambulatory cases to you guys, then get the patients that couldn’t move to cover before blockading the ward.  The women still near him?” Eva asked, her voice echoing off the floor.  She was taking cover, low on the ground.

“They haven’t run off and gone rogue, if that’s your question. 

“Yup, ‘tis.”   There was one, two grunts, and then a delay of about ten seconds.  Then two explosions registered.  Theron and Lana watched as Eva’s dot streaked back out of the medical center to the outdoors, the commlink occasionally picking up her coughing. 

“Where?”  she wheezed out.  A “zoop” noise indicated his tracked position was sent over to Eva. 

Theron was able to intercept the signal as well.  Bowdaar was just beyond the ward doors.  Stopped.  None of the life forms within the ward had moved during this process – nobody had gone out to Bowdaar, and he and his group hadn’t come in.

“I got visual.  Give me a minute to check in with the big guy.  Sorry, spies.”

Then Eva switched the comm off.   

Lana let out an exasperated sigh.  “Can you get her back?” 

Theron shook his head.  “I’ll give her a minute, literally, before hailing her.” 

Inwardly, Theron didn’t wait the minute.  With ease, he sliced through the Thief’s prefix codes to port her commlink directly into his head and kept it to himself. 

He had told her that it was his op too.  If something was misfiring or not working – even if it was a 10-foot-tall Wookiee – it was his business. And this wasn’t a bug she’d stomp on once she found it.  Simply put, she wouldn’t find this.

“????”   Theron heard her call out when she was several yards away.  He frowned – his translator caught a “questioning familiar manner” in her inflection and intonation in Shyriiwook, but no words.  He wondered if it was his personal name in his home language – such things had no Galactic Basic equivalent. 

She repeated herself as she was within a few feet of him.  There was still no response. 

“He just froze up,” offered one of the women nearby.  “He’d cleared out the guards here, drew close to the ward with the doors open and… he just stopped.”  Theron could hear the shrug and the confusion in her voice. 

“?????, it’s ????.”  Definitely names in the language, not translatable beyond the intonation of “familiar manner” that his translator suggested.  Theron really was going to have to learn Shyriiwook if he was ever going to keep up with these two.

There was a sudden fuss – “Grab him –”  “He’s huge, be careful.”  “Let him down easy, it’s a long way down for him.”  Different voices chimed in.

Theron assumed that Bowdaar was now sitting on the ground now, with the assistance of at least four women.  Only one continued to speak in Shyriiwook.  “What happened?” she whispered to him. 

He let out a long groan.  “The smells.  It is one thing to see and know.  It is the unseen, the unknown – the burning stopper of blood, the smoke it makes, the sickness and waste that flows out of there.”  There was a thumping noise, Bowie hitting something.  “This place, this place forsaken by justice – it…”

“It’s different,” she crooned, her voice sounding like that of a Wookiee child.  “We buy slaves at market, set them free.  We let loose 20 or 30 from a holding pen.  This place – this place is bottom.  They linger here.  The worst happens.”

“For many, yes.”

“For you.”

Another groan, slightly higher pitched.  “?????”  That name for Eva again.  “Find that Gran boy.  Too many Hutts like their singers young, permanently.” 

Eva’s breath caught.  “You need to get home. You can’t – it’s too dangerous for you.”

“I failed you.”  Quiet huffing, not laughter. 

There was a pause, and Theron could imagine those dark eyes go soft at the edges and that head shake.  “Someone smarter than me once said that some things are riskier for you than for others…let’s get someone else here, ?????.” 

A mournful noise erupted.  Theron cut the comm.  He’d heard enough, plus Eva was likely to signal the ship in the next few minutes. 

In that moment, Theron felt justified in every action he’d taken to break sentient trafficking rings – even the one where he’d nearly had his arm ripped off of him, even the one where he’d ended up having three vertebrae in his spine fused, even the one that cost him most of his natural teeth.

The arm healed (ugly but fully functional), the back only hurt when it rained for three days straight, and dental implants stood up better to caf staining. 

Eva activated the commlink, bridging both the Thief and the spies together.  “Captain to ship, I need some assistance down here.  Bacca needs some time off the line.”

“You need some relief, too, Captain?”  Akaavi asked, swiftly.

“They know me down here.  I’m staying.  And don’t even think about getting up, ShriekHawk.”

“I’ll go,”  Guss volunteered. 

“You’re supposed to be asleep.”  Eva hadn’t expected to hear him – neither had Theron after the previous night; Corso had come back as Eva and Theron we’re cleaning up medbay, but Guss hadn’t. 

“Supposed to, but I’m not.  I’m the least risky person you’ve got available, Captain.”

Theron was willing to bet who that “smarter someone” was now. 

Eva didn’t hesitate long.  “Down you come, Fishman.”

“Fishman?” asked one of the women, wary.

Eva picked upon her concern immediately.  “Mon Calamari.  He’s barely taller than I am and completely biologically incompatible with everyone on this planet.  He’s a fast talker but  harmless.” 

“Tell her I’ll probably be more afraid of her than she will be of me,” Guss tried offer helpfully over the commlink.

**

After some brief discussion, Guss’s arrival, and Bowdaar’s departure, the small group took the ward from within.  The Red Hulls that had tagged along in Virtue’s Thief’s cargo bay made quick work of getting the medical camp into decent order.  The Bith – Tomota, Theron had learned – was brisk and efficient in triage. 

The Warthog arrived.  Jakarro said he’d stick around to watch the skies for the Aurore, make sure she didn’t fly into anything.  Then he’d take a group of Rishi natives back, if they could comm contacts and have somewhere to go. 

The Gran boy was found to be unharmed; he’d had an adverse response to the anesthetic and had his procedures delayed until the following day; the buyer wouldn’t accept damaged goods.

Nobody checked the records to see what was to be done.  He didn’t know either, and it was left at that.  He was sent back to his mother. 

With adequate numbers, the final liberation of the men’s camp began.  After the initial incursion, the remaining guards knew nobody was coming to help them; they surrendered. 

While there was still light out and Lana had excused herself to use the downstairs lavatory, Theron privately commed Eva.  “You ok, Captain?” 

She sighed.  “Still sweeping the men’s camp, making sure there aren’t any loose ends hiding in plain sight.  Anyone who was in the medical center is going with your friend.  Then it’s a matter of who’s been here the longest.  Warthog is giving a lift back to Raider’s Cove for anyone who’s from Rishi in the first place.  One less thing for us to wrestle with.”

Theron nodded to himself.  “Right.  You ok, Captain?”

A breathless and mirthless “heh” was her initial response, follow up by, “No, not really.  But they know me now.  They know the great Red Hulls now.”

“Switch off with someone who can run the show.”

“Nah.  They have their parts to play back on ship.” 

“Not everyone who has skills is on your ship.”  He could totally find a swoop bike, get out there.  He’d done this sort of thing before.

“To be honest?  You ‘re a man and Lana is a Sith.  Let us handle this,” came the brusque response. 

That dashed that idea. 

“Say hi to my friend for me,” Theron said lightly.  She hummed an affirmation and then the line went dead.  He couldn’t help but feel disquieted.  Theron was missing a piece of intel, and he did not like it.

Chapter Text

Day 5

Theron’s contact was late.  “She’s running out of light, Harpy,” Jarkarro complained to Eva over the commlink. 

“Tell me about it.  I’ve got patients ready to move and a bunch of people throwing dice for the extra spaces.  The longer this takes, the worse it is.”  Eva felt as if her entire body was coated in blaster smoke, Rishi sand, and a fine dusting of metal shavings she’d picked up when she’d had to hit the deck inside some of the buildings. 

Her head was dull and heavy.  She wasn’t sharp anymore.

Beyond herself, the longer Teff’ith took to get here, the longer she’d take to get back, the longer this camp had to remain as a functional refugee camp in order to support life.  Eva was leaving the logistics to Risha and Rogun on this one, but she already knew the longer this went on, the worse it was for everyone.

Finally, Jakarro said, “Aha.  All yours.”  She was here, descending down to their rendezvous point in the promised Aurore-class ship. 

Eva waited impatiently for the ship’s captain to emerge.  Eventually, the yellow Twi’lek disembarked.  She still wore the silver and ruby helmet in the intel holo Eva had of her on ship. 

Little time was afforded for niceties.  “You work with Theron?” Teff’ith asked accusatorially, a hand on her hip and a finger pointing at Eva.

Eva nodded, but she couldn’t hide the annoyance in her face and her voice.  “You’re late.”  She crossed her arms.

Teff’ith seemed to ignore the criticism.  “Theron’s always stupid.  Says we can’t meet up, can’t call back, because of ‘known associate’.  What did he do?”  Before Eva could even try to tackle that question, she had moved on.  “Whatever.  Probably stupid.  He said we could help with slaves?”  She pivoted to look around the dock, just as impatient as Eva was to hit the hyperlanes.

That, Eva could deliver in a more concise manner.  “We were all expecting a few hundred – you could have carried them all in one or two trips.  We’re closer to 3,000, and the first few hundred need medical care.” 

Teff’ith just cursed for a good minute in response, the Rylothean occasionally punctuated by ‘stupid,’ ‘Theron,’ and ‘Jedi.’  

Eva tried to disrupt the tirade long enough to get a few words in edge-wise.  “I get that you gave up a lot of money when you stopped running in slaver circles –”

“We couldn’t afford after stupid Voidwolf got killed.  Now Republic rules more common – slavery risky.  Better to run things now,” Teff’ith huffed.  “Where we take these slaves?  We aren’t paying for doctors – not out of what Theron paid us.” 

Seems the SIS slush fund was still somewhat operational….or Theron had scraped enough on his own to ensure her cooperation.  A thought was spared for the sorry state of his wardrobe and the disappearance of the swoop bike she’d seen on Nar Shaddaa, and Eva quickly concluded it was the latter situation.  “I can front the cost.  Where were you planning on taking them?”

Teff’ith shook her head. “Can’t.  We take them to colonies – not injured or sick.  Now they need doctor?”  Teff’ith threw up her hands.  “We are smuggler, not doctor.” 

Eva’s brain rattled.  She’d gone too long.  She was getting foggy.  But what was one ship?  He’d said no to a fleet, but one ship --!  “You in trouble with Voidfleet?  Can you go to Port Nowhere?”

Teff’ith warily looked at her, her nose scrunching up as if she smelled something foul.

Eva rushed onward. “Listen, do you know Rogun the Butcher?”

“We killed for Rogun the Butcher,” Teff’ith stiffly replied. 

Yes, she had made the right connection in her head. Good!  But first – “You didn’t screw up any contracts with him?  Didn’t get any blasters stolen by separatists, kill his friends, accidentally conspire against him and end up --?”

Eva’s words fumbled to an awkward halt; Teff’ith was staring at her as if she’d grown a second head and three tails.  “Theron’s friend strange.  VERY strange.”

“Did you leave it with him on good terms?” Eva asked, exasperated.

Teff’ith nodded, cautiously.

“Great, go to him with the injured, say I sent you.  He’ll pay you, restock the ship, take care of them.  Once you get the sick and injured there, you come back and take the rest to whatever spaceport you want.  I can pay you for each trip.

Teff’ith crossed her arms, the tips of her lekku twitching, as if trying to detect a con.  “Credits now.  Had to wait with Theron, but we know him.  Don’t know you.  Don’t want to get caught coming back here.”

What’s the point of all that hard power, all those hard credits, if you can’t change the galaxy?

Impetuously, Eva pulled out her datapad and drew up a figure – might have been a little exorbitant, but she did place third at that last competition she’d been in.  The one she threw. She thrust the datapad at Teff’ith.   “That enough for you to take them and find people you trust to come back around to Rishi?  Nice little finder’s fee for you, good credits for them.”

Teff’ith didn’t took the datapad right away.  She gave the number a look from a safe distance, then let her eyes take in the guise of pirate captain.  “We do not think you are as you are.”

“No.” 

“Rogun the Butcher listens to you?”

“Yes.”

“And you Theron’s friend?”

“Yes.”

Teff’ith studied the smuggler with a critical eye.  Then, she scoffed, making some comment in Rylothean involving Theron again, something involving his parents and now her – Eva’s head was pounding away as she waited for Twi to stop bitching and take the datapad and fill in her information.  She gestured with the device again.  “Just put in your transfer number, and it’ll go through.  Just guarantee me all of them get out of here safely and they stay free.”

Teff’ith extended a delicate, lady-like finger, typed in her numbers, and made her mark.  “Consider it done.” She never had taken the datapad out of Eva’s hand.  “We make trips.  We have friends make trips.  Former slaves behave on this job.”

Eva made the datapad disappear back into the folds of her captain’s coat.  “No matter how much Theron likes you, I will find you.”

Teff’ith smirked at her this time.  “We are not stupid.  We see you.”

Eva hesitated before replying.  “Good.”  She swallowed and gestured to Teff’ith to follow her into the med center and begin the transfer of patients.  “Theron says hi, by the way.” 

**

Day 6

Sometime in the small hours of the morning, Eva made it to her hot water shower.  A sandy grey sluice was left behind; she’d have C2 deal with it in a few days.

She didn’t want to feel anything anymore.  Tying up loose ends was exhausting. 

2,956 lives. 

Over 40 women were pregnant – 2 were touch and go.  Some knew the father was waiting for them somewhere. Others weren’t so lucky. 

104 children.  Most were with their mothers.  Some were alone.

The worst part of it all was that they wanted to talk to her. 

She didn’t want to know.

Most of them had been there less than a year.  That meant there had been others before them.  And others before them. And others before them. 

Even as Darmas rotted in prison, his curse on this planet continue to take, take, take.

Bowie had made some crazy request.  She said ok to it, whatever it was.  Slavers were scum – nobody would care. 

Her last act ‘on duty’ was to signal that they’d debrief after she’d had a day off.

Then came the severance.

She had to remember she didn’t care anymore.  It wasn’t her problem.  Never had been. 

That was the truth.  She thought.  They – they tried to make it her fault. 

The evidence pointed elsewhere.  But she –

Wasn’t a child.  Wasn’t too young for this game.

Doubt.  Doubt remained.

The last day of hearings, there had been a mob in the courtroom hallway.  She blended in easily – she was nobody, just another faceless clerk or some court reporter or some other ordinary girl on Coruscant.  As Darmas had been marched out, the press had descended on him, asking questions, getting holos for the nightly news.  The guards had pushed him through, around the corner – and right into her, holding a stack of flimsi.  She froze in place, like any innocent young thing face to face with the awful and terrible Darmas Pollaran. 

In the confusion as the guards picked up her stuff for her, Darmas whispered to her, desperately:  “If you believed I ever loved you, then play dumb.  For once in your brilliant little life, play dumb.”

Then he was gone, her arms filled with the dropped paperwork, perfectly stacked. 

Eva didn’t know what he meant.  She didn’t understand any better when she visited him the following year and broke his face into pieces.

Eva woke up, again and again in the middle of the night.  Each time it happened, something more – something more to kill the feelings, something more to smother what remained.

Darmas Polllaran was the person she had loved the most in her life.  Darmas Pollaran was the person she hated most in her life.  The passage of time did little to clear up that contradiction.

Other substances could at least wipe it from her mind for a few hours, making a dreamless sleep.

But the dreams always did return on this planet, this great monument to blindness and dumb naivete. 

Eva had promises to keep.  Wrongs to right, no matter how impossible.  If she needed a push to do it, that was the price she’d pay.

Numbness.  Nothing but phantom feelings that slipped away too quickly to be identified.

If she could contain it, keep it in this room – then no foul. No harm came to her ship or to her crew, she won.  No news out to the spies – they paid for her work, not her day off.  Or they would, when it was all over.

Sometimes, she allowed her mind to drift beyond the event horizon of this op – things he’d said to her “after all this is over.”  But too quickly, she would remember the kind of person he was, the work he did. In a moment of clarity, she knew she’d lost, would lose --

Any time something close to an emotion appeared – she slew that dragon. 

Even the good ones.

She didn’t want to feel anymore.

**

Day 7

She was late.   Theron stared at the door as that critical minute, the one she always arrived in ticked by, then the moment of the meeting was upon them. 

Eva was late for the first time in their association.  No matter how damn early Lana had positioned those meetings, she had not missed it.  No matter how dangerous it had been, she had made it to Manaan.  No matter how long he had spent on a holo call with Satele, she had been punctual and never said a word about his priorities and business. 

She was late, and he was worried.

Lana noticed.   Whether she noticed one or both, she did not let on.  All she said, placidly, was, “You should go find her.”

Theron didn’t need to be told twice.  He only hesitated in his choice for a moment – it was a clear day.  He wore the red jacket.  

He wove through the street patterns he had programmed into his implants – dodge this camera here, that one over there.  Steer clear of a turf war, avoid this, avoid that.

Theron swiftly moved up the docks to hide in the great shadow cast by Virtue’s Thief.  His eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, and he could see Guss beneath the ship.  Theron scanned the area immediately around him, and he allowed his boot to strike a discarded piece of metal, letting Guss know he was here.

Guss whirled around, his large eyes blinking rapidly trying to see the source.  “Oh, hi.”  He blinked once, then twice.  Then Theron watched as the pieces clicked together for him.  “She’s late, isn’t she?”

Theron nodded. “Is she--?”

The lack of eye contact as Guss said, “Just give her a few minutes.  She’ll be out soon” made Theron instinctively start heading up the open gangplank.  Given that Guss was outside – he tried the door and found it to be unlocked.  “Spike!  Spy Guy!” he faintly heard the protests beneath the ship.

His gut hadn’t failed him yet.  He would find the answer. 

The rest of the ship was empty – likely all gone to the warehouse.  Except her.  Eva had slept in.  Eva was late.   This wasn’t like her.

He rounded the hallway of the ship and without hesitation knocked on her door.  He heard her curse, and he heard the flurry of activity. “I know.  I know.” 

Theron frowned deeply.  Something was gnawing inside him, urging him to go in.  Something was wrong. 

But that wasn’t any of his business.  She was his asset.  After the op was over, he probably could barge into her bedroom – hopefully, she’d encourage it. 

Now? 

This was a professional boundary he did not cross.  Theron liked risk, but he also needed to see this op through without getting tangled and twisted in … whatever it was that drove him to her door.  The galaxy mattered more than her. 

The noise behind the door reflected the speed with which she was trying to get ready, more foul language voiced in frustration.  There was a frantic quality to it all that, Theron thought, did not quite match an “oops, I forgot to turn on my alarm chrono.”

Too much pressed his curiosity.  This op mattered too much for him not to –

When the door finally slid open, Theron leaned back against the wall that divided her door from the galley, with a foot angled to prevent the door from closing immediately.  For a moment, Eva seemed off-balance, looking for the source of the knocking.    He watched her face, rushed and hurried on this bright morning. 

Pupils large, eyes darting.  An almost unnatural flush at the center of her face as the rest of her remained almost too pale –

Another curse, and her hand went up to her face again as she felt it – but not quick enough that Theron didn’t see it.

Nosebleed.

That’s all he needed to pivot on that foot in her doorway and turn himself inward toward the chaos that had become her quarters. Drawers still half open, a deliberately off-white shirt (stained with tea?  Possibly, knowing her), cast aside, fresh drops of blood on it.  That had caused the early morning panic.  He only had to crane his neck slightly to see the waste bin next to the desk.  It was filled with empty alcohol containers – they were neatly rinsed out and arranged so the bin wouldn’t overflow – a long-practiced habit.  Then, just peering out from beneath that discarded shirt ---

Theron’s heart missed a beat as he stared at what he thought he was seeing on that dressing table.  That wasn’t what he’d expected.  He reached for it as one might reach for a venomous snake, hoping to grab it and keep its dangerous mouth at bay.  The object was old – Theron had to be mindful not to clamp down on it with all his strength or else he would shatter it.

One thing at a time – he opened the box. 

He found what he expected. 

Medium grade: nothing fancy like glitterstim, nothing dangerous like glitteryl, nothing low quality as to be indigenous to Rishi.  Something in the middle.  Something that would achieve the objective at a price that wouldn’t destroy her own business. 

All in all, Eva’s choice of spice was that of a reasonable woman. 

Minus the part where she was indulging in spice.

“I got the slaves off the island,” Eva said, voice as unsteady as her stance.  “It was a difficult day.”

“We heard.”  Theron’s voice was flat to his own ears as he continued to look at the contents of the old box.  “Word of your raids is going around fast. Even the Revanites have heard about the great Red Hulls.”  The last three words were drawn out, paced, over-dramatized.  He let his eyes travel to her face.  She was indignant.  He didn’t care.  “How long has this been going on?”

“What, the snort in the morning?”  Eva shrugged.  “As long as Lana’s meetings.  A few days.  A week.”  The smuggler then had the gall to shake a finger at him.  “The Sith needs to stop giving us 0900 meetings when she knows damn well we’re up til dawn running the front.”

The anger she tried to convey was undone as another drop of blood escaped from a nostril.  Theron’s hand was quicker than hers, and she froze ---

He didn’t strike her. 

He did worse, based upon the look in her eyes.

He wiped the blood away with his thumb, and her anger fled.  He wasn’t sure what was left behind – hollowness. Maybe.

“Guessing from what’s left in here, I’d say weeks, at least.”  He studied her face again, and she withstood her scrutiny.  “You were clean on Katalla.  If I threw you under your medbay computer, would you even have a septum left?” 

Eva stepped back from him, and his hand didn’t follow.  “The op has been difficult,” she said, again, as if that made everything acceptable to him.

Theron returned his gaze to the box and snapped it shut.  “This doesn’t help.  I’ve worked vice – this never makes anything easier.  For you.  For those around you.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never –”

“I’m smart enough to know I don’t have people that will fix it or run interference for me when I make mistakes,” Theron cut her off swiftly.  “If you think I believe your crew didn’t know about this, you must really think I’m all flash and no substance --- just something pretty to look at rather than competent.”

The expression on her face indicated she hadn’t thought that, but it didn’t matter. Eva’s lip curled back in a snarl.  “I’m still doing the job you asked me for.  This morning was a mistake.  It won’t happen again.”

“Yes, I think you’ll always make it a point to be on time from now on.” 

That’s the way they kept going, the people Theron saw slide down into this.  They made sure they didn’t screw up when it mattered. They could live for their days off, until they couldn’t.  Until it got too big, too much, too needy. 

But it wasn’t just what was in the box that bothered him.  Theron ran his eyes over the closed box to make sure he was looking at what he thought he was looking at.  He had to ask her now, and he tapped the box deliberately with a finger.  Her gaze followed easily.  “Is this from him?” Theron asked quietly.

“Him who?” Eva seemed confused at the question, as if it was non sequitur in her mind. 

Maybe it was.  “Darmas Pollaran,” he clarified.  “Did he give this to you?”

Eva physically took a step back, her face nothing but disgust now.  “What the hell makes you think that?”

Theron tried to keep an even tone.  “This is a collector’s item.  It’s an early Imperial casket that used to carry the engineering room keys to destroyers – they were using keys 50 or so years ago, when the Empire first reappeared.  Where did you get this?”

No less repulsed, Eva continued to pull away from him in the hallway.  “Family heirloom.”

“Yours or his?”  She hadn’t said no, and Theron stepped forward to keep her in range.

“Mine,” Eva said firmly.  Despite the state of her pupils, Theron couldn’t detect any dishonesty. 

The anger that had been bubbling under within Theron developed a sudden edge of unease, of nausea.  “Where did you get this?” he repeated the question.

So much for hiding himself behind SIS screens and training -- Eva noticed the change in his demeanor almost immediately.  Now she stopped moving backwards.  She instead pounced on the tangent.  “What are you more upset about -- the box or the spice inside?”

“I know where you got the supply.  I’m asking about this.”  He had to consciously restrain himself from squeezing the box into tiny little metallic-wood pieces.  It was a luxury item, a privileged item, a high-ranking Imperial officer’s item. “Why do you have this?”

“Imp officer in the family tree, I guess.”  Eva shrugged.  “Stories.  Stories and that box – that’s all I have.”

“What stories?” Theron asked her, the cold creeping into his voice.  This wasn’t a market item.  It wasn’t a token passed off to a one-night stand.  He knew how they circulated.  He knew what scandal accompanied the loss or inappropriate ownership of these boxes. 

If this wasn’t inappropriate…

Eva threw up her hands.  “What do you care?  I’m late for a meeting regarding your op.  I’m sorry. Let’s move on.”  She held out a hand, fingers flicking toward herself, the universal sign for “give me that.”

As she took the box from him, Theron’s mind and heart were already in an active war.  His head reminded him of all that she was: a criminal, a smuggler, a drug runner, a dealer, and now a user.  The list went on why she had always been a bad idea.  Use her for the op. Then it’s done.

And yet something lay beneath the surface of the dark, still water at the center of her overstimulated eyes.  He was no Jedi, but Theron’s gut had rarely failed him where something was not quite right.  He should ask her, grab her, tell her---

No.

“I fold.”  Theron turned his back on her before he could see her face, but he heard the strangled inhale.  She knew what he meant.  “The op will continue.  You – you get what you want for your payment.  See you at the briefing.” 

And then he was gone.  He rounded the Thief’s hallway, probably for the last time, his legs carrying him down the gangplank into the harsh light of the morning.  He moved through the crowd.

He had to leave her behind.

Chapter Text

Eva arrived ten minutes, thirty seconds after Theron did.  He timed it.  He saw her eyes flicker in the dim lights of the safehouse toward him then toward Lana, gauging if Theron had said anything. 

He hadn’t.  She was still an active player in this op.  He would not compromise their ability to get the job done, no matter how he felt about her private life. 

Theron felt nothing about Eva’s private life.  It wasn’t appropriate. 

It was a lot easier to leave her behind this time. 

Lana was onto something, and she was intently tilting her ear toward a transceiver.  “Thank you for coming.  We just intercepted this transmission from the Nova Blades’ headquarters….. waiting for it to finish up.”   Her index finger tapped the console as she waited for everything to buffer. 

At least one of them was in a good mood this morning. 

The three of them watched as a grotesque, large man appeared on their screen.  “This is ridiculous! How am I supposed to hold up our part of the deal if you won’t give us any backup when we’re in trouble?”

The screen then split to reveal his conversation partner:  Revan.  Finally, some sign of him since Rakata Prime.  “Commodore Margok, perhaps we should seek other allies. I’m sure there are other crews on this planet who are capable of managing their own affairs.  Such as those that have disrupted your operations.”

Margok’s nostrils flared and his face turned a nearly plum color in its anger. “Hey, we’ve done our share! You wanted the shipping lanes raided,  we raided ‘em!   Pub, Imp – done.   You wanted stragglers picked off from the big battles, we did it!  Even wore your signs and symbols to do it – we gave up glory for you.”

Theron heard Eva’s weight shift.  That was confirmation that Virtue’s Thief had indeed been in a dogfight with the Nova Blades.  Not only that, it confirmed Eva’s observation that the two larger governments were being targeted – no longer the Hutt Cartel and never Voidfleet. 

The man in the mask was unimpressed.  “And your clumsiness cost us our Mandalorian allies.”

Theron’s hands were quick to bring up his collected intel about the Mandalorians that has settled on Rishi.  He’d heard snippets of gossip, some references in communiques from Dromund Kaas, but as far as Mandos went, these were hermits. 

One more very strange thing about Rishi, he supposed. 

Margok scoffed, “Torch and her crew of old fossils? We’re better off without ‘em.”

Revan’s voice became sharper.  “And I’m beginning to think we’re better off without you. Deal with your own problems if you want to prove otherwise.”   Her terminated the message, and Margok sat on the holoscreen a few seconds longer, fuming. 

When Theron looked up, Eva was staring at the screen, hands on her hips, thinking.  “Didn’t know there were Mandalorians on this planet – pretty sure Akaavi doesn’t know either.  When she knows they’re in the area, she does give us a heads up when we’re about to deal with them – they have rules of engagement.”  Eva stopped herself from continuing.

The conscious awareness of the tendency to prattle nervously.

Theron smoothly summarized the information on his datapad. “Based on what we do know, they are pretty insular.  First presence noted here about ten years ago, settlement permanent within the last five.”

“Anything recent?” Eva asked, looking to him.

He answered, “I’ve heard people around town mention Torch, but I didn’t realize she was tied to the Nova Blades or the Revanites.  Might be a good lead for later.  Dealing with the Nova Blades is more critical.”

Eva paused for a moment, rolling the situation around in her head once.  “We have Revan and his followers fooled as far as thinking the Red Hulls are just upstart pirates. Impressive upstart pirates.  We’d better move quickly – if the Revanites cut the Nova Blades out and start looking elsewhere for help, there may not be any information left to recover if they wipe the banks.”

Lana dismissed the intercepted holo transmission and nodded.  “I agree. Speed is essential now.” She brought up a holo image of a large, aged shipwreck. 

Theron took that as his cue.  “The Nova Blades are based out of an old crashed warship: The Aggressor.   You’ve probably seen it, off in the distance on Horizon Island.  This is essentially their mothership –this is the primary living and working space the Nova Blades have occupied over the years.”

Eva pursed her lips as she looked at the image.  “Some might call it dirty pool to attack a person’s home.  King and his castle.”

“You need to hit them hard – make it look like the goal is to completely crush them so nobody notices when we raid their computer cores for intel,” Theron insisted, narrowing his eyes at her.  “Remember, this is about the Red Hulls and the Nova Blades – it’s a front.”

“Oh, I didn’t include myself in the ‘some.’  My crew and I have no issue with destroying slavers livelihoods and lives.”  An uglier, angrier express crossed her face.  “As Risha says, they probably view themselves as humanitarians for not killing people – we don’t share that view,” she finished coldly.

Lana’s eyes darted over to the ship trackers.  “In that regard, I can tell you that people are continuing to be moved off Rishi to different space ports around Republic space, as promised. I’ve asked Jakarro to refuel his ship and assist you in this present planet-side matter.  While you approach The Aggressor, you can use your target designator to call for his assistance, just like before.”

Eva stepped back from the meeting space. “Sounds like fun,” she said lightly as she moved toward the door.  “I’ll get in touch when I hit The Aggressor, so you can start pulling together a victory party at the cantina.” 

Theron had to suppress a smile as he watched her swagger – he shouldn’t do that anymore. 

Lana called to her as she headed out the door, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Good luck,” Theron called as he turned back toward the mainframe. 

That was appropriate.

**

Within two hours, Eva confirmed that she and Corso had reached Horizon Island. They were running a stealth reconnaissance first around the island before approaching The Aggressor directly; the ship consumed most of the land, but there were enough outbuildings that were large enough to house anti-aircraft measures.  It was decidedly preferred that Jakarro and The Warthog not be shot at.

As Lana was in deep discussion with the ground team and Jakarro, Theron suddenly realized his private line was being pinged by Virtue’s Thief.  He could hear Eva’s voice on the line with Jakarro and Lana, so it was not her.

Theron shifted his work to the far end of the work room, an eye on Lana’s back the entire time.  “I read you,” he muttered quietly. 

“You alone?” Theron blinked a few times.  Risha?   This day was getting stranger by the second. 

Still keeping an eye on Lana and on the rest of the mission, Theron replied, keeping his voice low.  “Yeah. What do you need, Risha?”

“I want you here tonight.”

“That’s not appropriate.”  That seemed to be the catchphrase of the day, both in his head and out loud.

Risha huffed.  “You don’t understand.  The day before yesterday –”

“Was a difficult day.  I heard that earlier.”  Theron had the urge to disconnect the comm.  He wasn’t going to --

“You apparently didn’t hear me still in the galley with my caf.”

He had to admit, he was a little distracted.  Theron kept silent.

Risha continued, “It wasn’t just a bad day for her.  It was a bad day for Bowdaar.” 

“I gathered.”

“You know what they did to him?”

“Yes.”

“That’s part of why she’s so bad.  The thing is…”  Theron heard Risha sigh.  The normally direct and witty Risha Drayen appeared to be searching for words.  “You know Bowdaar was freed by our dear Captain, right?”

“Yes.”                                                                                 

“He’s the one responsible adult on this ship, honestly.  He consistently makes sure all of us eat and sleep.  Eva is my closest friend, but I can’t control her.  We’re too friendly for that.  She can pull rank on me if I’m too hung up on myself, not the other way around.  Bowie anchors her.” 

“Why do you need me there, then?”

He heard her shuffle somewhere, the ambient background noise around her fading slightly.  In that moment, Theron realized that Risha was hiding somewhere on the ship to make this call. “Bowie… has decided to abdicate that responsibility for now.  He asked Eva for permission and she gave him whatever he wanted – after that day.”

A sense of dread arced through him, again.  “What did he ask for?”

“There were a few surviving traffickers from the raid.  Some of them were particularly unrepentant.  Bowie… asked for the Red Hulls to take them alive.  He wants to punish them by using them as live targets.  From what he’s grunted about over the last few days, he’s going to throw them in the air, one by one, and shoot them with a bowcaster he’s borrowed from Jakarro.” 

Theron felt his eyes practically bulge out of his head.  “That’s the voice of reason? And Eva said yes?”

“Oh, she thinks it’s a great idea.  She might help.  But she’s not ok.  She is seriously not ok.” Risha sounded suspiciously emotional and not like herself at all.

“Risha?”

It finally came out, angry and hot.  “Bowdaar kept her on course after everything that happened a few years ago.  He’s not doing it now.”

“He hasn’t been doing it for weeks, from the look of it.”

“It … wasn’t obvious.  She kept it minimal.  I – could tell.”

Theron didn’t answer.  His eyes watched as the two pinpoints marked as Eva and Corso curved around the island.  He’d heard it before, from sisters and housemates that swore the problem was under control, until it wasn’t.

“I didn’t even realize it until she knew my personal supply was empty before I did.”

Theron couldn’t help his response.  “Kriff.” 

Risha’s haughtiness returned, momentarily.  “Three orphans in their early twenties running around Nar Shadaa with more credits than braincells and a constant fear of any touch of boredom.  The majority of us didn’t turn out just fine.”  A pause for a moment.  “Eva is safe with Corso around.  He’s not as effective as Bowdaar, but for today – he’s the one.  But what happens when work is over…” 

Theron didn’t answer.

“This isn’t normal for her.”

He didn’t care.  He wasn’t involved personally anymore.

“Theron –”

“It’s business between her and me, Risha. I don’t know what gambling pool you had on the pair of us, but it’s irrelevant.  My chief concern is this operation finishing and exposing a galactic conspiracy.  What she does in her off-time – it’s better I don’t know.”

Theron disconnected her and instead hooked himself up to a database he’d left half searched the previous day.  He calibrated his implants, set up a notification for when the slice on The Aggressor was activated, and took a deep dive.

As his implants did their initial spider’s crawl across those mainframes, Theron’s internal monologue rambled on.  He had an operation to manage. This wasn’t the time for her to try to make good money on a betting pool or be a good wingman.  His temper simmered.  Eva had gotten into something since the last time he saw her.  It changed things.  He didn’t want to play anymore.  That was it.  That was the smart decision for him.

Being attached to people was already difficult.  He knew his limits.  He had told her from the beginning, if there was a choice, he would make it.  For the sake of the Republic, he wasn’t going to sink to the bottom with her.  Other SIS agents hadn’t made the right decision on that count, and it wasn’t just with assets.

Hell, it was how he shot up through the ranks so quickly.  The high-stress life, the ugliness of it all – SIS agents fought a long war of attrition.  Many didn’t make it to retirement age, which was why those packages were so generous to survivors. 

Theron had his calendar marked for the month before he turned 37.  He’d be a twenty-year man by then, and he would have earned every credit.  Every perk. 

And then he’d likely stay on, until his knees gave out. Or until they kicked him upstairs to some awful desk job.  He didn’t want to end up like Trant, who did a poor job of hiding how much he missed the field.  He did want to see the future, so he hardly had a death wish.

It just happened that sometimes, the personal risk to Theron was worth that better future. 

This wasn’t those times.  He was willing to be civil for –

What the –

Theron sensed his implants alerting him to an SIS protocol droid in the vicinity that needed an agent to address a vital security concern.  T3 was sitting right there in the safe house – it was not an emergency.  Yet the little droid was singing out a distress call, right into his implants, and he was doing it in a way that Theron could not ignore. 

It was deliberately designed to be one of the more annoying sounds in existence.

With an angry growl, Theron pulled himself out of the database, slamming the proverbial security doors behind him.  As soon as he was ‘back’ in the safehouse’s main room, he heard himself say to Lana, “T3 is having an issue – I need to take him to the other room to deal with it.  Republic security thing.  Do you mind?”

“No, go ahead, Theron.  It has been making a strange noise – rather distracting.”  Theron glanced at Lana to see her absorbed in the progress of their two teams.

With a brisk motion of his hand, Theron indicated that T3 follow him to the back room.  There was a lopsided couch, a chair with a creaky leg, and a low table scattered with some of the papers they occasionally brought in to keep themselves somewhat aware of the outside work.  He rarely was in here – Lana was the one who actually took a break once in a while.

Theron gave T3 a sour look.  “Divided loyalties, now?”

T3 made a noise, and Theron couldn’t describe it as anything other a stubborn pout. “Smuggler = friend = Risha = friend.  You = listen.”

Theron closed his eyes in frustration.  Too much damn personality.  “Fine.  Pipe her through.”

Instead of the audio only, T3 was able to send a holo image of Risha standing at the engineering console, hand pressed tightly to her ear.  “Some messages are best conveyed in person.  Or the closest thing to it.”

Theron didn’t answer her.  He just stood, legs shoulder width apart, arms folded. 

Risha looked like she was about to explain, then she stopped herself.  She flinched.  “If I was in her shoes and knew a crewmember was doing this, I’d have them executed for mutiny.”

“You’re lucky she’s captain, then,” he said dryly.

“You have no idea.” 

Risha’s hand came away from her ear and she pressed it over her mouth as if –

 Theron really hated his gut these days.  It was always right.  It was right about something being wrong with Eva – and it was right about it being something more than just the drug use. 

“The slave trade on Rishi was Darmas Pollaran’s slush fund – it’s where most of his trafficking came through.  This is his – something she has to clean up again.” 

Theron had to wince.  “That … isn’t pleasant unfinished business.”

“No.  And she’ll tell you it’s all about us being in danger – how she failed us as captain.”

Now his gut was now telling him that wasn’t enough.  That intelligence was relayed by that same sour, curdling sensation he’d had back in his apartment as he looked at pictures of Pollaran.  He was a spy, a professional, layers upon layers of cover.

“If I didn’t laugh, I’d cry over it all.”

“But there’s more.”  He said it as a statement, not a question.

Risha’s entire face was pulled downward, and no arrogance or front could conceal it.  “Darmas was never a distant or remote handler for the Rishi route.  He had his hands and a few other body parts in the slave trade.  Very personally involved.” 

Theron’s eyes closed. 

He could hear Risha taking advantage of the fact his eyes were closed; she let her voice crack.  “Monster.  He was -- .”  Risha couldn’t finish the sentence.  He kept his eyes shut.

Risha Drayen, daughter of Nok Drayen, had called someone a monster.  A chill raced up his spine and remained.  “Did he –”  The unasked questions made him nauseous.

“That was never the face he showed her.  She never –.” Risha cleared her throat.  Theron felt it was safe enough to open his eyes again.  Risha seemed to past the worst of her mutiny now, and a certain calm had appeared.  “Unscathed physically.  But – not entirely.” 

For the first time, Risha looked directly into the holo cam that she’d set up in engineering. For the first time, she said directly to him, “He led that life and everything that came with it the entire two-and-a-half years she was with him.  And she was one of the last to know.” 

“Physical trust is easy to give away.  It’s easy, temporary, and it only affects me.  It’s everything else that really matters, and I’m already in over my head.”

But it was never just that for her. 

“I’ll be there tonight, Risha.” There was nothing else he could say. 

She nodded.  “Thank you.”

Then it was over.  She disappeared from his view.  Theron was alone with his cold body and his uneasy stomach. 

And a droid that was long overdue for questioning.  “You’re lying to someone,” he said to T3, his voice rough.  “You told her there was nothing about Rishi and its pirates and its slaves on the SIS network.  I found attachments relating to a court case that said otherwise.”

T3’s head spun once.  “T3 = not liar.  Information = does not exist for smuggler.”

Theron crouched down to look T3 right in his optics.  “But it exists for me.  And I’m pretty sure you have the clearance to undo the scrub job on the court case.”

“Court case = does not exist.  No trial.” 

Theron scowled.  “The data still exists.  You can get it.  Do it.  That is a direct order.”

T3’s lights blipped a few times.  “Acknowledged.”  It was a cold, sullen blurt. 

And now Eva was signaling that the slice was prepped; she needed Theron to do his part. 

At least they could work together.  They needed to. 

**

“Eva, found it.”  Eva looked over to see Corso pushing away plant life from a small hatch on The Aggressor.  In retrospect, it was obvious it had been placed there, but Eva wasn’t going to rake herself over the coals for this one – the massive wreck was a twisted mess that had been made more complicated by the additional hallways, walkways, and rooms that were built after it crashed decades, centuries ago.  It resembled nothing like the plans that they’d received from Risha on-ship. 

Once the greenery was removed, the hatch hissed open.   A nod, and Corso guarded her as she carefully latched her omnitool onto the computer circuitry inside.  “Thinking they’re watching us?”

“I’d be surprised if they weren’t, Cap.  I think they might notice the ones that are missing by now.”  A grin spread across Corso’s face.  No love lost on slavers.

Eva adjusted her hat as she tilted her head to watch the omnitool’s lights flicker and bounce.  So slow but so effective.  A loud click, and Eva’s hand reached to keep attached to the computer as she signalled Theron to start his slice in. 

It took just over a minute – Eva wondered if she’d caught him doing something else.  He normally wasn’t slow.  A panel next to her flipped open. “Corso,” she hissed.

The two of them flattened themselves on either side of the panel, trying to avoid whatever came out next. Much to their relief, it was a projected holo image of their handler.  His hands flew over his board, and a whirl of a holocamera opposite them made it clear that he could see them too.  “Good work.”  The image flickered a few times.

Then it was gone.

Abruptly, Theron’s form was replaced by the appearance of a particularly infuriated Margok.  “You really are insane. Coming after us here?”

“You take people out of their homes on Rishi.  Why do you think you’re so special?”  Eva shot back. 

He made a dismissive gesture with his hand.  “You should have stuck with picking on tourists in the Outer Rim, schutta!”

Eva almost rolled her eyes at the insult, and she came off the wall to speak to the image.  “You’ve sold your last slaves.  Between my crew and the people you stole, we got more than enough to hold that camp.  The Nova Blades are finished.”

Margok fired back as his image began to warp and fade away – Theron was slicing back in.  “We’ll see.  The Nova Blades founded Raider’s Cove. We’ve been here long before you, and we’ll still be here long after.”

Before Eva could respond, the man was gone.  In his place, Theron stood.  “Disabled his ability to transmit to you again. I can get the doors open, but it looks like the Nova Blades have their own slicers on staff, so I can’t get any real data yet.” 

“We’ll take care of them,” Corso spoke up. 

Theron nodded. “Good luck.” 

For a second, Eva thought Theron’s gaze lingered on her for a moment.  But it was only for a second – he was gone.

Yeah, he was gone gone. 

She knew playing with the stuff would be a turn off for him.  She wasn’t dumb.  He wasn’t either.  She liked him for that, which didn’t make the current state of things any easier to get over.

**

“That was sort of disappointing.”  Corso nudged the body of Margok with his foot.

“You were really expecting him to throw down an epic final stand?” Eva asked as she latched her omnitool onto the console the man had been defending.

Corso leaned on the console, a safe distance away from any vital buttons.  “We got more resistance trying to take the cantina.”

“Cantina’s got some redeeming value – and I’d fight a duel for that chef.”  Corso laughed and nodded – that was some divine food.  “We also made a mess of their main slave trading depot.  I wouldn’t be surprised if a bunch of the Nova Blades decided to hastily mend their ways.”  Eva tipped her hat back to adjust her bandana and scratch her forehead.

Corso crossed his arms.  “But not the ones Bowie is going to deal with tonight.”

Eva noncommittally raised and lowered her shoulders once.  “Making an example of slavers on Rishi might go a ways in making sure this place doesn’t let it come back.  I mean, we’re taking over but that’s not to say people aren’t going to try to keep that trade going.”

“So scare ‘em?”

“Promise them.”  Eva stifled a yawn, hand going to cover her mouth. 

Corso leaned a little forward to get a look at her, even as she ducked her head to avoid being rude.  “Pretty sure those circles under your eyes aren’t makeup now.”

Eva froze for a moment, then eyed him warily.  “Nope.  Didn’t want you to worry.” 

“Been wondering why you kept me managing Red Hull business out at the warehouse.  Yeah, so I’m your ‘official’ First Mate – Risha got the business brain though.  And she probably knew what was up weeks ago.”  Corso’s good humor evaporated as he spoke. 

“Akaavi didn’t know.  Bowie didn’t know.”  She made the feeble offering.

Corso pushed his hair off his neck and adjusted his collar.  “Akaavi’s been distracted the entire time we been on planet – ain’t none of my business.  Bowdaar’s got himself in a tizzy over the slavery –which I understand—and that Sith lady – which I just don’t.  But they knew something was up with you, probably.  You went through a lot of effort to ensure I wasn’t even at the ship half the time you were.”

Eva directed her gaze back to her omnitool.

“And you called in the spy to rescue you – hell, I could have picked you up and got you outta danger and no one would have batted an eye in there.”

“This better not –”

Now Corso grabbed her arm.  “Don’t throw the jealousy card at me. You’re not gonna fly away with me to Dantooine – I know that, you know that. You called him in because you knew I wasn’t going to be happy about you dipping into spice again.  With him, you could just front it as a business necessity – I know how it actually works with you, normally.  When you’re trying to stay clean.  And then I’d figure something else was going on with this whole Red Hulls front that you weren’t honest about.” 

Corso let her go, and although she still felt his hand on her arm, she knew he’d only pressed the thick fabric of her coat into her skin – nothing more.  “You said you were gonna make Rishi better.  But it’s like Akaavi said – you didn’t tell us how risky this was, how just plain unsafe it is for you to be doing this.” 

Eva ran a tired hand down her face.  “Are you all going to take turns and lecture me?”

Corso pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Until someone gets it through your thick skull that you don’t have to be the one taking the risks all the time, Cap.  You do this cuz you feel guilty over what happened –”

“And I only got the present to fix it in,” Eva cut him off. “I’m not going to wait years for some sort of redemption to come through – I fix what I screwed up.”

“But not everything is your screw-up, woman.  This entire damn planet was the way it was before you entered the holo.  It ain’t your fault just by association with him.”  Corso wave his hand out toward the rest of Rishi. 

“But I can fix it. I got the power,” she retorted.

“And I don’t have objection to that – but you’re doing this for reasons that nobody other than you blames you for.” Corso made a fist and gently pushed down on the console with it.

“And you know that’s not true,” Eva reminded him. 

Corso looked down at his fist for a moment before looking back up at her.  “That … still bugs you?”

“Always will.  Always have the doubts.”

Before Corso could say anything else, the omnitool clicked, and Theron and Lana’s image appeared before them.  The First Mate of Virtue’s Thief made a face – she had been saved by the spies from any further lecture.

Good, in her mind. 

Theron’s hands were flying across his keyboard before he reached a hand up to his implants.  “I’m in. This should give me a quicker view, a better assessment.” 

As Theron’s eyes went out of focus, Corso elbowed her.  “I never want something in my head that sends me through the Holonet like I’m there in person.”

“Not on our ship – we’d have to wade through Guss’ browsing history to get out the door.  Who wants that?”  The two snickered as Theron paid them no attention at all and Lana waited for the Republic spy to offer some indication of his findings.

Despite whatever his eyes saw, Theron was still able to let out a low whistle.  “There are dozens of comm logs in here. Hundreds. Sent to people all over the galaxy.  Coruscant, Dromund Kaas, Corellia…”  Theron slowly shook his head, as if using it as a touch gesture – or perhaps an indication of his disbelief at the volume of data they had found.  “The names are all encoded, but breaking through that is only a matter of time.”  He closed his eyes tightly for a moment and brought himself out of the data dive.  “I’m going to get started right away.  Great work.”  With a few strikes of his comm board, Eva could see Theron port the data over to his workstation at the mainframe and turn away from the comm.  He was already obsessed with the new information. 

Eva thought the ever-curious mind was cute.  Too bad she’d ruined it.

Lana turned to watch him walk away without another word, then turned to address Corso and Eva. “You should hurry back. Despite what we overheard earlier, the Revanites could show up at any moment to try and help their allies – we’ll deal with them another time.    Besides, I think we’ve earned a bit of a celebration – I think it’s a little late to arrange something for tonight, but tomorrow would suit better.” 

Eva smirked up at Lana’s image. “And you said planning a party would be getting ahead of ourselves.”

Lana bowed her head in good humor.  “Do forgive my basic sense of caution.  Well done, you two.  Enjoy the night off.   We’ll be in touch.”

As the transmission cut out, Corso turned to her.  “I don’t suppose I can talk you into pushing back Bowie’s festivities tonight… or at least you talking a night off from being down there.”

Eva sighed at him.  “I’m there to see and to be seen.”

Corso looked over her for a few moments longer than necessary.  “You’re getting stuck in the illusion, Cap.  You aren’t that pirate person, the one that doesn’t have the sense to know her own limits.”

“For now, I am.”

“You didn’t have to be on your day off yesterday.” Corso spun himself around, tiredly, and started to head back toward the speeders they’d arrived on earlier that day.

Eva had kept it all to herself, but Theron had been correct.  The crew didn’t need to know explicitly what was going on behind closed doors to figure out ----

Things were falling apart.  Would she even have a crew after this op?

No confidence.  Increasingly unfit for duty. 

Eva never felt heavier as she followed Corso back to their transportation. 

She didn’t want to feel anymore.

**

Theron caught himself humming twice as he plowed through the data Eva and Corso had retrieved.  This – this was the motherlode.  This was the break.  This was everything he’d been searching for over the last few months.   Now they would have names and faces and ---

They could save the galaxy.  This was a good day.

Then T3 chirped at him. “T3 = done.  Document = decrypted and unredacted.”

“I’m busy T3 – this is important.”  Theron didn’t tear his eyes away from his screen for a second.

“You = promised.”  T3 then bumped into his leg twice, as if trying to push him away from his work.

Theron looked to the chrono.  “It’s hours before I need to go.  And she might be wrong – I might not be needed tonight.”  Maybe Eva would be too tired to attend tonight.  She might stay in and do – whatever.

“Court data = long.  You = read.  Now.”  T3 rolled around Theron to harass him from the other side.   “New data = can wait = longer than court data.”

Droid had a point: Theron couldn’t really transmit anything until all elements of the names were properly decrypted and organized – that could take days.  But starting now could speed it up – and there were only so many hours, so many operations the computer could –

Theron growled as he lost the internal argument.  “Send it over, T3.” 

“Read = in private.”

Theron had a sudden urge to give T3 a sharp kick in the axle, but he didn’t do it.  He wasn’t that type of a droid owner.   Instead, he simply grabbed his datapad and went upstairs to his room.

Theron had barely sat down on his narrow bed when T3 sent up the file as promised.

As his implants rendered the documents for his viewing, Theron realized it was a good thing he was sitting down for this one.

UNFILED

CASE REDACTED BY S. KARTUR

Galactic Courts of Justice, Coruscant

Supreme Court Division

Galactic Republic

          Plaintiff,

v.

Eva Corolastor

          Defendant,

Cause:

12 planetary members of the Republic file the following charges against the plaintiff in connection with Case GCJ-356021—9853 (Galactic Republic v. Darmas Pollaran).

1. Sentient trafficking
2. Sex trafficking
3. Procurement
4. Piracy

…

…

…

The charges ran over multiple pages. 

Slightly numb, he scanned through the initial legal arguments that the prosecution had planned to use against her.  She was too close, too clever, and too good at her job not to know. 

Eva was Darmas’ fully acknowledging and consenting partner in everything.

Everything.

That was the prosecutor’s argument.

About halfway through the massive document, Theron noticed a change in format – the case brief wasn’t properly completed.

Anonymous sources, legal opinions, and government officials – they had issue with the prosecution’s case.  There were even filings from Pollaran’s lawyers stating he had no such accomplice.  Then there was a fleet of memos from the Courts of Justice to refute – then back and forth again. 

Theron stared down at some of the sources they’d taken on.  Victim statements – why the hell wasn’t he on this? 

When he wasn’t breaking bones or wedged somewhere in Imperial space he shouldn’t be, Theron had made it a point to see his trafficking cases to the end – the very end.  He wanted convictions.  That wasn’t achieved without victim testimony.  Victims didn’t testify if they didn’t feel safe and heard.

Despite Theron’s incompetence in his personal life, somehow…. Somehow, when it came to the wronged and injured, he had the gift of compassion without being some overzealous, self-righteous law officer.  He had the ability to help others pick up the pieces without judging their failings.  He had similar remarks during his field medic training with SIS, no matter how bizarre the injury presented to him was.  The nurses complimented his beside manner. 

Master Zho would be proud.

This was exactly the sort of case he would have been called in on if they really wanted to nail Corolastor to a wall.  He could have -- Theron checked the date on the initial drafts and when the victim testimonies were collected.

Oh.  Ascendant Spear.  He probably was getting punched somewhere or stuck in the bowels of an Imp destroyer, getting cramps from dehydration.

Theron should have found this months ago, when he was trying to determine her character and her suitability for recruitment.   He went back to the top of the first page again.  “Unfiled.  Why?” he heard himself aloud.

T3 was apparently listening in from downstairs.  “Government = insufficient evidence.”

Theron checked the page count of the court case.  “Not for lack of trying.”

“Smuggler = innocent = T3 assessment.”

Theron felt that terrible feeling in his stomach again.  “…I need to see for myself.”

Truth was the liberator.  Either it would make it easy for him to remain detached… or he’d have a card game to attend.

Chapter Text

Theron finished reading the document after sundown. 

He wasn’t going to be able to go to sleep after reading that.

He went out in disguise, as promised to Risha. 

That happened on Coruscant a lot too -- the going out to get a little lost in the night.   Theron dodged his way into a small door way not far from the warehouse’s entrance to observe the people going in and going out… to think. 

What he’d read in that report wasn’t particularly better or worse than what he read on his usual beat.  It went a long way to explain his caf consumption during the day and whiskey consumption at night. 

The problem was that the accused was a person he had let slip past his defenses, something that he should have picked up on.  Theron didn’t mix his professional life with his personal life.  When he dated SIS personnel, they were never field agents – no distraction on the job itself.  Hell, his best relationship to this point had been someone who worked in a completely different building, completely different part of the Republic government sphere, who had the same loyalties he did.

Eva wasn’t even on the same side, politically.  Philosophically – somewhat. He knew that before he found that Imperial antique in her possession; that certainly didn’t make him feel any better about it.  Even if he did find something redeemable tonight, it wasn’t going to erase those questions.  But…

She made him feel, intensely, to his discomfort. 

But he liked that challenge, that battle – he wasn’t dead inside yet.  He wasn’t complacent. 

He was terrified, yet wanted to draw ever closer to her.

Theron definitely liked risk far too much to be a Jedi.  That much was clear, as he slid from his hiding spot and made his way into the warehouse.  Theron merged quietly into the crowd at the Red Hulls’ den.  He would only show himself if necessary; he felt as if he was intruding upon Eva’s end of the operation, even with all of Risha’s assurances that he was needed.  Now where was she?

What he’d internally referred to as the queen’s table was empty.  Many people milled about inside of the warehouse, and Theron was able to make brief eye contact with Guss at the bar.  Theron moved toward the open docks, where there was another queen’s table set up – also empty.  There was a smaller, rowdier crowd toward the edge of the water. 

He finally caught sight of both Eva and Bowdaar there, at the far end of the docks.  True to Risha’s word, Bowdaar was heaving the ringleaders of the Nova Blades’ trafficking arm into the air over open water and shooting at them like clay pigeons.  

He was actually getting some pretty good height on them. 

Theron’s footsteps slowed as he tried to place the other members of the crew.  Akaavi was not here.  Corso had been with Eva today; he wasn’t likely to be out.  Risha –

Risha sat at a table further down the side of the warehouse, glaring at the festivities from a distance.  Theron leaned against the wall, waiting for her to see him. 

She did.

The two watched.

Seated on the dock was Eva.  The clothes of the Red Hulls’ captain were unchanged – skin at the shoulder and waist were bared, showing off old scars.  Her hair was loose and voluminous, held back by a bandana.  She laughed, loudly, cheering the Wookiee on.  But despite every image of being the Pirate Queen, the eyes –

The eyes were those flat creations of the Voidhound.  The perverse joy was an act.  Something was passed to her on a tray by someone Theron didn’t recognize – it was a Red Hull recruit but that was all he could see – she consumed it with barely a look.  She was indiscriminate. 

In that moment, another thought popped into Theron’s mind.  Risha had been… benched, unofficially.  He hadn’t seen her out in the field in a week, since she accompanied Eva to the initial briefings... before the trafficking issues came up. Akaavi, yes, prior to her poisoning.  Guss, Corso, Bowdaar, yes. Even T3 had gone on walk-about once.

Something else there, then.  But that had to wait. 

Theron focused his attention on Eva and peripherally on Bowdaar.  The Wookiee had worked half-way through his prisoners now.  Eva had a new drink in her hand – not the regular gin and tonic, something he didn’t know at first glance.  She’d consumed a lot, if her rate had been consistent the entire night.

He knew she had a high capacity from years of doing this…but…

It happened so quickly nobody could have stopped it. 

Bowdaar had just thrown another slaver into the air.

Flash of light.

Theron’s implants registered an EC-17 blaster flash followed by a bolt --

The Wookiee screamed.  The bowcaster clattered to the ground.  Theron’s translators picked up the cry as “Little Girl” -- --

He’d screamed for Eva.

The crowd startled at the sight and the sound.

Theron saw Eva’s face go white as the glass in her hand fell away and shattered on the boards as she unsteadily rose and charged toward the edge of the dock, her main blaster drawn in a surprisingly smooth motion.

Theron instinctively went to draw his own concealed blaster, but checked the motion, instead pressing himself toward the wall to watch and wait.

A flurry of motion to his left, and Theron grabbed at Risha as she tried to run past him, pulling her to him – she only struggled for a moment before –

The witnesses began to panic as the captain of the Red Hulls intervened --

She killed the other slavers so quickly – shot one by one up the line Bowdaar had arranged them in. 

Risha’s breathing sped up, and she tried to break Theron’s grip – whether she was running to Bowdaar or Eva, he didn’t know, she couldn’t yet --

The mob stampeded down the docks to run back through the warehouse to escape –

Eva shot into the water, a scream indicating she had hit her mark --

Bowdaar made a noise and rolled to his knees --

Theron let Risha go as they went past.

Eva turned on unsteady heels, eyes wild, mind addled

Bowdaar open his hand, pulling it away from where it had been clutched against his chest ---

His hand, only his hand, had been hit. 

As Risha reached Bowdaar and began to shepherd him away, Eva said something – Theron couldn’t catch it. 

And then she was storming away, her off-hand blaster emerging from its holster. 

She was livid.

Theron only cast one more glance at Risha and Bowdaar.  Bowdaar was cradling his hand.

Risha was staring at Theron, asking him.

He said he’d be there.

“Eva,” he called out to her. 

She didn’t heed him. 

Eva’s speed picked up as she moved down the docks and then abruptly turned left, out to the alleys of Rishi. 

Theron did not rush.  He could still trail her without attracting attention to themselves.

He watched to see where she would go.

The tortuous back alleys of Rishi were easy for Theron to navigate.  He was already awake due to what he’d read, but the implants made him hypervigilant; he’d memorized the maps of Rishi as well. 

For Eva, it was a greater challenge, he could tell.  What she had consumed, the late hour after a long day, her emotional state – she kept in motion through sheer anger, stumbling, reaching for walls as she passed, heading toward –

Rishi’s red light district.  The path became clear. 

The night’s humidity only intensified the smell of rotting seafood and the waste thrown into the back alleys they traversed.  Infrastructure here was poor – was there even garbage pick up anyway?

Theron had given some thought to becoming a vigilante some years ago.  He had all the skills and toys to do it.  However, vigilantism made the law look weak (something an SIS man did not want), and not everyone’s motivations or judgment would be as benevolent as his might be.  He’d read too many comic holos, borrowed from his bunkmate, to know that. 

To have Eva go rogue on Rishi would have been fine in any other circumstance – there was no law to compromise here.   They were trying to build a Nova Blade turf war – targeted, specific, with clear motivations. A reign of terror on sex traffickers and pimps would blow their cover, attract too much attention to them at precisely the wrong time. 

“Eva!” Theron finally yelled out sharply. 

This time, she turned to look at him.  No, no Voidhound here.  No Eva either.  Her eyes were wild.  She had not been right all evening, and now – now she was off her chain. Theron felt himself start to take longer steps to catch up to her as she looked away, as if his presence had not registered entirely.

He caught up to her as she strode down the alley, still blasters drawn and ready.  “Go back to your safehouse,” was her cold greeting.  They moved in matched strides, passing through the street lights of Rishi, alternating between light and darkness. 

“Only if you go with me.  Or if you come back to the Thief.”

“Tonight’s not my night to be dealt in.  I have other business tonight. Try again tomorrow.”

He knew all the techniques to push someone away.  He’d used them.  “This isn’t about that.  This is keeping you from destroying the op.”

“I thought you were fine with some extracurriculars.”  Her eyes were fixed ahead of her, on her goal. 

“This extracurricular will attract all the wrong attention.  You sent your message to the Novas, loud and clear.  Anyone else, the message is muddled.  It gets too personal.”

“Then I’m out of the op. I’m doing my own thing. You find someone else to work with.  This is mine.”

In her state, Eva could only focus on so many things at once.  Moving forward and using her blasters was probably all she had. 

Theron abruptly slammed her with his left shoulder into the wall, knocking one blaster out of her hand.  The weapon clattered for a moment before hitting something. That quicker left hand was already in motion, and he was able to meet it, grasp the wrist, pivot it.

If Eva was going to blow someone’s head off, hers would be first; he had her own hand pinned to the alley wall, the muzzle of the blaster pointing at herself, not him.  Theron’s left hand held her right shoulder tight to the wall. 

That was too easy. 

“That’s not happening,” he stated, staring ahead at the dirty, drab walls of the building.  He didn’t look at her.  “You know the rules.  This op must complete.”

Eva didn’t fight.  She went still. 

Now he knew something was very, very wrong. 

“Is that the end, then?”  The voice was lost.

“What?”

“I’m no longer of use to you – I’m more a liability than a tool.  Isn’t the part where spies tie up loose ends?” 

Theron’s eyes snapped to focus on her face, and he stared at her. Her pupils were blown out, focused somewhere over his shoulder. Her pallor was off – that could be because of the drugs too.  Or because --  Did she think --?  What did she think he  --?  He choked down his indignance as he answered her, emotionlessly, “You aren’t seriously asking me that.”

“You told me – my life or your op…”  She swayed even as he had her pinned to the wall, and he instinctively pressed the length of his torso into her to keep her upright.  “I’ve seen it before.”

Corellia. 

From his now awkward angle, Theron tried to make eye contact and get her to look at him, not whatever she saw over his shoulder.  The eyes persisted in their listlessness, her expression blank.  “You’ve had way, way too much to drink.  And maybe you had something else?” he suggested.  “I think we should go back to your place and let you sleep it off.”

“No.  Nightmares.” 

“About…?”

No response.

“Eva.” Her name seemed to summon her back for a moment. “We need to get to somewhere safe then we can talk—”

“No talking.”  Then her mouth was at his throat, as she was pinned too tightly to go for his face. 

Theron was thankfully in full agent mode.  This wasn’t the first time a woman had pawed at him and tried to distract him from the actual matter.  Theron’s jaw twitched slightly to activate the implant that released a small bit of analgesia – insurance against temptation once outside of agent mode.  There would be no lingering physical memories on his part. 

He tightened his grip on her left wrist and finally, the blaster fell down harmlessly next to them.  His hand now free, Theron grabbed her by the chin and detached her mouth from his neck, forcing her head back against the wall.  Once he was successful in that venture, his grip loosened.  He didn’t want to bruise her.

Theron tracked Eva’s free hand.  It clamped down on his forearm, as if there had been a dull realization she was going to drown. He pressed whatever awareness she had.  “Yes, talking.  Sleeping would be good too.   Not this.”  Theron cast a look at the abandoned blasters in the alley.  “Or that.”  He kept his touch on her jaw soft, but strong enough so she wouldn’t try to lurch forward toward him again.  “We can go back to your ship.”

Somewhere, in that skull, something broke open.  “No, I can’t.  I’m not fit.”  Eva’s voice came out higher and more distressed than he ever heard it.  “Not like this.”  Then the russet eyes turned up toward him, abruptly lucid.  “I missed it.  I missed the blaster. I checked – and –”

Theron kept his face neutral as she began to beg  him – she begged.  She begged.   “Don’t take me back.  They can’t see me like this.”  Her face crumbled down.  “I promised – not again, not unfit.”

And then she was crying.

Theron retained his composure as an SIS agent, even though there was a part of him that was uncontrollably flailing in panic.  Theron was getting whiplash from her moods. Most of this was likely due to the mind-altering substances.  But those had been consumed as way of –

not thinking about things.

The things Risha mentioned.  The thought he’d had about Corellia. 

Pieces of Eva’s life started to fly around his head.  Something had been broken – always had been broken the entire time he knew her – he just hadn’t pieced it all together. Theron set that to the backburner of his mind.

He had to get them out of there.  This area was not safe. Her ship was not an option.  His hideout was not an option – too many eyes on the way, Lana, A7 being nosy, T3 proverbially wringing his hands and roaming around the safehouse…  Theron narrowed the possibilities and chose one.

She was still crying. 

“I need to let you go so I can clean up and get you out of here.  Don’t move.”

Theron made fast work of grabbing the loose blasters from the alley, not thinking about what they had landed in.   When he looked back, she was where he had left her, crumbling inward upon herself, so unlike the woman he knew.

What else did he do to you?

He returned to her, murmuring, “Eva, it’s Theron.” There was some flicker in her eyes, a slight tick in her face, that told him she knew he was there.  She knew he was who he was.

Theron took her hand in his.

He led her away. 

**

Theron’s ultimate destination was a warehouse rooftop near the opposite end of the docks from Eva’s warehouse.  It was the quietest, prettiest piece of real estate he could find without going into the wilds.  He used it to meditate.  He could see the dawn clearly from there.  Theron and Eva sat down with their backs to a shed, obscuring the view of anyone on the ground. Here, nobody could see them.

They sat in silence.  Theron considered what the best course of action would be.  Asset extracted and secured.  This was just about where SIS training ended.

So he was going to wing it.

“Hey,” he said softly.  Eva looked at him, tears still falling, but she had put on that pazaak face.  That blank, polite one.  The one he liked less and less each time he saw it, because it wasn’t her. “Let me see your face.  The real one.”

She silently shook her head.

He nodded his head. “Please.” 

She stared straight ahead. 

“Please.”  Theron opened his hand, as if to reach for her, but he didn’t touch her.  He repeated himself.  “Please.”

Eva’s eyes darted between his hand and his face.  “It hurts.”

“Y-you can tell me.”  Theron made a hasty decision.  He was an idiot for that.  If she could listen to him on Coruscant…he could take it here on Rishi.  The full story.  The one that he’d ducked away from on Katalla.  “It’s just me.”

As Eva emerged from behind her mask, she reached for him.  He let her.  He let her crawl between his legs.   He let her bow her head and press her face to his chest, so he wouldn’t see her. He let his own arms hold her close to him.  He let her cry.

**

Eva hated crying.  She did it rarely.  In theory, it was enough to remind herself that if she could get over her promotion to captain, she could handle everything else.  Just get on with it. 

Today was a complete and utter failure of that theory.  

Now she had bawled her eyes out in the arms of a Republic SIS agent who probably knew most of the story anyway, while she was still coming off of a significant amount of illicit substances and alcohol.  He used to think she was his best asset, the one he needed for this all to work, the one he would have feelings for. 

She didn’t think he would have those thoughts anymore. Given his likely knowledge of her file, Eva might as well hang a sign on herself:  Dead Dove – Do Not Eat. 

Eva exhausted herself before she felt like she was done with the crying.  That was the problem. She never felt done, so it would never end unless she did something to smother the thoughts. 

Cue: a series of really bad decisions today.  The last few weeks. 

It was awful that they were together on a rooftop looking out over some really pretty scenery, and she was so very miserable.  She reclined on her side, head to Theron’s chest.  She could feel his arms around her tightly, and his chin was propped atop her head in an almost protective gesture.  Why did it have to be awful now?

Eva had little ability to censor herself at this point, so thoughts came tumbling right out. She sat up slowly, still more than a bit woozy from everything in her system. He released her with ease.  “And here you thought I was the one with her act together.”  She glanced behind her.

Theron sat, back to the wall, legs spread wide enough to accommodate her. One hand was planted on the ground, and the other rested atop a knee that had been drawn up, possibly to stretch.  He shockingly didn’t seem angry or disappointed.  “You run a good con, Captain.  But most of us do for stuff like this.”  Theron adjusted his position on the hard roof.  “You just happened to catch me first.”

“You had a bad day, me coming in all shot up.”

“I thought you lost your arm.  Then all of the trouble caused by that one very good bouncer,” Theron sighed and shook his head.  “You’ve had a bad day too.  Multiple, even.”  He let the words hang in the air. 

Eva hugged herself around her middle, still speaking to him from behind a shoulder.  “You know that Bowie and I both hate slavery and trafficking.  We really got up close and personal with it.  He couldn’t take it.  I sucked it up and kept going anyway.”

Theron waved the hand propped up on his knee.  “I was in on the call.  And now we’re here.”  His gaze was not piercing, but it certainly had force behind it.  “You thought I was going to serve you a burn notice.”

“It’s the drugs.”

“If you thought I was a chartreuse pom-hopper, that would be banthazolate,” he fired back immediately.  Somewhere inside her husk, Eva appreciated that he was not having any of her bullshit.  “You accusing me of planning to kill you – that’s not the drugs.” 

Eva grimaced.  Don’t cry.  Don’t goddamn cry. “That’s not about you.”

“That’s….what we need to talk about.  Because it’s about you.   And as long as I am a spy with SIS – the rest of my career – it’s about a hypothetical ‘us’.”  Theron’s tone softened. 

Eva drew in a breath and tried to sit up straight.  “Akaavi did say my taste for spies wasn’t for the weak.  So let’s talk about Darmas Pollaran.” 

Eva saw Theron swallow hard.  Oh, he definitely didn’t want to bring up the ex.  “You’re not weak.  She’s right about that.”

“I feel weak.  It makes me feel weak.”

Theron’s hand made a ‘come hither’ gesture.  He waited.

Eva’s head and her heart went to war.  Trust issues.  But she was already here alone on a roof with him.  He could kill her if he wanted to.  Done it already; he’d held her, had her blasters on him, definitely carried a knife in his boots.  This was a moment that more alcohol would have been a good idea to institute a cease fire. 

Guess she had to do without. 

Eva went to Theron.  She let him arrange her in his arms.  He was strong – her memory was correct from that speeder ride on Nar Shaddaa and that gaudy night on Katalla.  Eva cooperated, now leaning her back against his chest, her head able to tilt back on his shoulder.  His face was so close to hers but just far away enough to permit conversation.  His hip and legs lay outside of hers, cradling them while still letting her remain seated on the roof. 

Now they were in the exact position she had dreamed about the night after they’d parted ways at Manaan.  Now they were going to have an excruciating conversation instead of the pleasantries of lovers in a holo. 

Eva felt Theron’s arms wrap around her waist, and he spoke against her hair.  “It’s just me,” he reminded her again. 

She began slowly.  “Darmas was an Imperial spy.  He used me to conquer the underworld, in the hope that the Voidwolf would align it all under the Empire.  He covered as an information broker, Pub side.  A semi-pro sabacc player.  And unknown to me, a human trafficker.”

Eva stopped.  She steadied herself.  Theron’s hand moved against her – he was still there, still listening. 

“You probably know about the top two lines of the charges against him.  Spy.  Trafficking of no fewer than 15 women.  Life plus 300 years.  That’s what they got him on.”  Eva ran her tongue over her teeth in her mouth, nervously.  “He cooperated with the Republic prosecution to chuck Dodonna under the speeder.  He pled out on other charges to expedite the trial and to keep the sentence to just life plus 300 years.  One of them was inciting a riot – the lynch mob on me when I had outlived my usefulness.  When he could no longer control me.” 

Theron’s initial response was an attempt at playfulness.  “I have no illusions about controlling you.”

“But my life or the Republic,” she reminded him. 

Eva could almost palpate his humor evaporating.  There was a pause before he spoke. “I meant that in terms of sending you out on risky missions.  I’ve kept assets in play in the past, and they were killed.  That wasn’t a deliberate action on my part.  It was a consequence of the mission. I also meant that if there was a choice between a relationship with you and service to the Republic – if those two things were mutually exclusive, there was no choice. As far as taking you out of play – ”  Theron’s breath was warm against the shell of her ear, “I can do that without killing you.  And if it did come down to a life or death decision – I’d exhaust a lot of other options first.”

Eva’s hands sought his, and he gave them to her to hold onto and then grip tightly.  “But you would make the decision.”

“I’m not going to lie to you or fool myself.”  And from the sound of his voice, he didn’t want that choice to be on the table. “I can’t let attachments make me choose one person over the good of the galaxy – what’s better for thousands, millions of people.’

Eva finally grasped everything he had been distressed about that night on Coruscant – his crisis about physical closeness, about desire, about being attached as a spy and as the kind of man he was.  This was the gamble.  This was the fall-out.  “Deal me in” was a hell of a request, one that had far more weight that she had thought.  Eva had been so bold, so cavalier – and now she was finally getting it like the goddamn adult she wasn’t yet, seemingly.

Theron had understood. Eva had pretended to. 

She began again.  “The other charges Darmas pled out on were related to the women he trafficked.  I went to every hearing.  We were on Coruscant for weeks.  At those hearings, I heard everything he had done to each of those women.”  A breath.  “Personally.”  Another breath and a hard squeeze to Theron’s hands.  “Whenever I wasn’t around Port Nowhere.”  She held his grip.  “Slaves can’t give consent.  Women forced into prostitute can’t give consent.  My boyfriend was a rapist.  Prolific.” 

Theron’s breathing remained even.  He remained calm.

Eva felt her control slip.  “He was so bad that the Republic prosecution thought I must have known.  That I was an enabling partner.”  She felt that familiar shudder roll through her, and her hands withdrew as her arms crossed over themselves. Theron folded his arms over hers, securing her.  “They thought I helped him.  Sent them to him.   Or at least I knew what he was doing to them.”  She felt her entire body jerk with a sob at the memory.  “Those women suffered because I should have known.  I was so stupid.  I was his idiot smuggler captain, and I hurt so many people.  I destroyed their lives because I was blind--” 

She shattered  into tears. As she pulled her legs in toward herself, she felt his warm, strong body curl around her.  A strong sense of revulsion struggled up inside of her – not directed at him.  “I don’t deserve to be comforted – I could have stopped–!”

“No.”  Theron’s low voice rolled through her.  Even as she was shaking her head, he hushed her, his unshaven cheek pressed against the side of her head.  Eva felt so safe in his arms – she didn’t deserve that.  She didn’t deserve a lot of things he had on offer. 

She had to take it all, before it slipped through her fingers.  Her sense of time was warped.  She found herself counting the beats of his heart behind her.

Sobs still escaped her. Theron murmured in her ear as his hand intertwined with one of hers.  “Eva, he used you strategically to make sure you couldn’t see what he was doing.  He endangered you in so many ways.”

Eventually, her voice cracked as she argued, “He did worse to so many--”

“No matter how good he was to you, no matter what he said --- he came home to you without telling you what he’d done, not even to let you protect yourself.”  Theron’s anger cut through the night air. 

Eva remembered an agonized shriek that had echoed through the Thief, years ago, as the list of names – all of the names – came through. 

Then, for an indeterminable amount of time, all Eva could see was the ceiling of a women’s clinic on Nar Shaddaa.  All she could hear was a Nautolan nurse telling her there would be some pressure but it would be over quickly. All she could feel were hot tears coursing down her face, Akaavi letting her grip her hand so tightly the Zabrak’s fingers were purple by the end of the appointment. 

“I didn’t get pregnant.  I didn’t contract a disease.  I was fine in comparison.”  The voice came out of her from some far away and distant place. 

Theron spat his words, “I know this is rich, coming from me, but you are not fine.”

Voices in a courtroom marched through her head.  Eva had a vivid memory of Darmas, repeating over and over again on the rostrum how he had no accomplice in those dealings; the smuggler he’d employed was a dumb patsy.  She was someone who would take the fall and be killed by Rogun or by the Voidwolf himself when the time was right.  She was so dumb.  She was an idiot – how could anything think she was his partner, his equal in anything?  How could they think she meant anything to him?

“For once in your brilliant little life….”

Eva trembled a little.  “Risha had a friend.  Couple of friends, you know.”  Master Sumalee and Shariss Kartur. “They had to throw weight to make sure I didn’t end up on the docket either and then personally made sure any evidence gathered, any drafts of indictments, anything with my name on it was destroyed – internally and externally.  That’s how keen the Pub was on me.  Risha called in her favors. For me.” 

Theron made a noise, somewhere between a groan and a scoff.  He bowed his head, resting his forehead on her shoulder.  “I’m beginning to see why you don’t think the Republic is the good guy.” 

“I should have stopped him.  If I wasn’t so stupid, so blind, I could have.”  Another tremble rolled through her.

“And how would that have gone?” Theron lifted his head from her shoulder, keeping his hands on her but no longer speaking softly in her ear.  He leaned back, sitting up straight.  “Confronting him in private at the Dealer’s Den, where he owned every worker there?  Going to report Senate Dodonna, who had her own operatives poised to preserve her political career at any cost?  Even in the prosecutor’s office?”

Eva sat up slightly.  She’d never considered it.  “But if I said –”

“Said what? Before he tried to burn you, did you know anything at all?” Theron asked her, point blank.

Eva felt everything hurt.  “I didn’t know anything that would stand up in court – but my gut...”  Eva felt the heat rush over her face again as she raised a hand to the piercing feeling in her chest.  “My heart… I knew the illusion was breaking, but I didn’t know what was beyond it.”  She had to take a series of deep breaths or else she would just  -- “It was real to me.  I thought he – we were real.”  She tried to get more air into her lungs, which already ached.  “And I wonder if he said all that he did on the stand about his ‘idiot smuggler’ to keep me safe.  Not just because it was the truth, but … because…?”

She didn’t want to be one of those molls, one of those sidepieces who had some lingering form of a mad love that kept them awake at night. 

She didn’t.  She didn’t.

Theron’s breath caught behind her, and he seemed to struggle for words before trying to deflect. “You know I don’t do those types of ops – I can’t.  I know I can’t, as I am.”  She felt his flingers adjust his grip on her, not too hard.  “What a spy does to keep cover – it’s never going to be clear.  Y-you’re never going to be secure in any explanation they give you, he gives you, I give you….it’s unanswerable, your question.”  She’d detected the slight stutter – not a habit for Theron.  A signal of his own – discomfort? Pity? Some other feeling he kept on a short chain?

Your taste for spies is not for the weak.

Akaavi was obnoxiously right. 

There was a lull in the conversation.  Eva felt herself coming down off of her emotions, as well as the drugs and alcohol.  As she started to approach semi-solid ground again, Eva extracted herself from his arms to face him, sitting with her legs crossed.  She saw him press his lips together as he saw her face after all that crying.  He looked downright sad for her. 

Theron chose his next words carefully.  “You are …. younger, aren’t you?”

Eva closed her eyes, and a pale smile appeared.  He had it.  He had the second biggest secret by its throat.  “What makes you think I wasn’t just in love when all that happened?  It’s a powerful thing, you know.”  She opened her eyes again.

Theron crept along the conversation with a light touch.  “In witness interviewing tactics, we’re reminded that when discussing trauma with a victim, they tend to revert to the age the trauma occurred.  Someone who saw a murder at five years old will describe it as a five-year-old child, even if they’re some eloquent university professor in their fifties.  You… aren’t acting like someone in their mid-to-late twenties.  And ….” Theron’s voice dropped slightly.  “You don’t look your documented age once you take off your armor and your Dermaplast.”

Deflect.  “You like them young, Agent Shan?”   Flirting.

She saw those lips curl back in a slightly impish smile.  “No, but I do like you, as you are.  And I don’t think you’re older than me.”

Eva took a good hard look at him.  It was just Theron.  No SIS.  “Can you keep a secret?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, one side of his mouth hitching up as he saw the innate humor in someone asking a spy to keep a secret.  His eyes were gentle, tired (she’d exhausted him), and – something else.  Not sure what. 

“I think my official record says I was 26 when it started, 29 when I became Voidhound.  31 or 32 now.”  She shook her head.  “I wasn’t.  I’m not.  Chain code is off by 6 years.  I was 19 when it all started.  A few months after my 20th birthday, I burned my bed and bought a new one because some asshole named Skavak stole my ship.  I’m going to be 25 soon.”  Eva watched his face for the response. 

“It came tumbling down when you were…. 22?  Almost 23?”  She nodded.  A cautious hand reached out to her, and she gave a small nod before it ran a thumb over her cheekbone.

Theron’s hand suddenly jumped against her skin.  The expression on his face finally registered the new information.  His eyes met hers, more than a little awe in them.  “You were just 16 when you became captain.”

“Yeah.  It’s sort of the benchmark for me.  If I could get through that, then everything else should be easy.”  She gave a half shrug. “I shouldn’t be up here with you like this. I should be-- ”

Theron’s expressed shifted to something – maybe it was sadder.  Maybe it was self-reflective – or both.  “Unfortunately for us, we are allowed to have more than one set of issues,” Theron said softly.  “Sometimes, a lot more than one set of issues.”

“And somehow we’re supposed to stagger through.  Who made that crummy rule?”  Eva leaned into his palm. 

“Someone or something way above my paygrade.”  Theron’s voice was low, his thumb tracing her cheek again. 

The breeze blew up from the waters on Rishi, a fresh scent of salt and the black sands.  The light wind ran through Eva’s loose hair, wrapping it across Theron’s hand.  His own hair, the pomade now long gone from the hot night, was ruffled.  The moon was still high, and stars shone down on their quiet corner of the docks. The roof was quiet.

 If the two of them weren’t such damaged adults, one of whom was of questionable mental capacity due to being under the influence, talking about their issues which were extensive and manifold, running an expose of a mad cult that threatened the galaxy,  -- yes, if none of that was in play, they’d kiss.

But it all was in play.

Theron’s hand eventually trailed off her face as they both looked out at the ocean.  They soon both sat facing it, backs against the shed, as when they started the night here.  The sound of the waves lapping at the shore filled the silence. 

Eva frowned at a thought that skittered across her mind.    Her filter was still broken, so it came out, destroying that fragile peace.  “What do you think of him?  Spy to spy.”

The silence was thick for several moments that stretched into the territory of over a minute.  Eva was willing to let him not answer, when he finally did.  “Pollaran was an effective spy, which is why he was able to operate freely for many years.”  Theron paused. “He did monstrous things to keep his cover.  He’s what I would consider a bad man in an alley.  Possibly one of the worst men.”

He took a breath and moved to sit next to her, hip to hip.  Then he put his mouth to her ear. “One more reason why I need to complete this op. I don’t want there to be any doubts or questions about motivation.” 

For the first time in this entire encounter, Eva felt some hope.  “Even though I --?”

“Certain things need to stop.  I won’t –I won’t tolerate them, personally or professionally.”  She heard him take a short breath.  “There’s more to you than those things.  But if you let them rule you – no.  I can’t.”

They weren’t in complete shambles, then.  Eva made a small offering in return for his response.  “I have a thin little dossier on you from my sources.  What was it you once said to me?  You’re not easy to find, but that’s a good thing in your line of work.”

Theron used his hip to nudge her.  “And what did you find?”

“The uniforms and haircuts are as bad as you said.”

He laughed at that, but he kept an eye on her as he asked, “And you saw before?”

“Only a little.” That was the truth.  His life before was only a single line: “failed Jedi youngling.”  Eva’s heart still hurt a little for him whenever she read that.  She could only imagine how he felt about it.  “And when you grew up, you busted slave trade rings.  A lot. It was a relief.”

She saw him nod from her peripheral vision.  “Finding out you forged slave chain codes and then blew out the slave market – major points in my book, too.”

They listened to the ocean for a few minutes.  Then Theron cut into the silence.  “Just to tie up loose ends -- tonight?  This morning?  Yesterday?”

Eva inhaled and then exhaled.  “That’s a simple matter after everything else, really.  After the job was done, I couldn’t get things out of my head, so I drank and did excessive amounts of drugs.  Bowie got shot because my fucking scrambled brain missed the EC-17.  I had not screwed up that bad since Darmas.  I really did almost get him killed.”  She opened her hand and held it out to him.  “You want to guess who took my stupid self to Ilum to sober up before Corellia?”

Theron considered for a moment. “Bowdaar.”

“He told me I was unfit.  To my face.  And so I was tonight, but without him to tell me off…. I break my own rules.”

“You only drink when you’re happy.  Not when flying.  Not to excess when on duty.”

Eva balanced her wrists on her knees.  “But I am an alcoholic.  That label doesn’t fall away, no matter how long you’re dry.” Eva deliberately turned her head to face him, and he held her gaze.  She wasn’t hiding this.  The olive-gold eyes didn’t waver.  He got it.  “I admit, the early morning meetings make the spice easy to excuse.  Special occasions, normally.  But this op.  It’s all of his unfinished business.  And I dream.  I remember.  I don’t want to.  So, oblivion.  Then, when oblivion failed, the impulsive anger.  Then the attempt at scoring mindless sex.”  She had the grace to lower her eyes slightly.  “Sorry about that.”

Theron’s teeth hooked onto his lower lip for a second.  “Coping.  Failing to cope.  I get it.”  He worried his lip further.  “You talk with someone about this before?”

“No.  I figured it’s the sort of thing that would kill any interest.   Damaged goods and all.”

Theron frowned, deeply, at that.  “Don’t – if you are then…. So am I.  I don’t always cope well either.”  Then he shrugged.  “I’m boring compared to you, though.” 

“Oh, don’t insult yourself or my curiosity, now that you’ve teased it.”

“Now I know you’re feeling better, being merciless as usual,” Theron grumbled, semi-theatrically.

“Thanks to you.”  She nudged him with her hip. 

They exchanged a look.  They understood each other perfectly.

Theron cleared his throat.  “I’ve done that – the mindless sex.  Just to turn off my brain. It was a phase, though – I did it for about 3 months, once, when I was younger.  I caught feelings and made everything worse.  Not that my usual dating life is more successful, even when I’m supposed to have feelings.”  Theron shifted his weight.  “No drugs.  I drink a little more than I should.” He blinked.  “No, a lot more, on random nights. Not often, but enough that I flinch at my surprise empties at the end of a month. You know?”  Yeah, she did. “I am a workaholic.  You’ve noticed that.  I take it home with me.  Sleep is optional.” 

Eva absorbed this.  “You’re right.  You’re very boring compared to me.” 

Theron’s mouth worked for a few seconds and then he spluttered, indignant, then began to laugh as he saw her grin. 

They eventually watched the sun come up before he walked her home. 

Chapter Text

Day 8

Theron woke midday.  It had been a long night.  Not only had he sat up til dawn with Eva, he’d dreamed.  He’d dreamed about spring grass on Alderaan.  About a girl who was the same color. 

He hadn’t thought of Karrie in nearly a year.

Karrie was content with everything. She was a self-admitted underachiever; her job at the embassy was the greatest thing she’d done yet, and as a Miralan, that’s what she got her tattoo for.  She was sweet in everything in she did, and she was beautiful.   

Theron had walked into a door the first time he saw her.  Karrie crossed the embassy courtyard to see if he was ok. 

Theron was beyond ok.

Karrie wouldn’t have caused him any trouble, long term, as long as he came home.  She didn’t pry, didn’t argue – just made a soft space for him to land without a fuss.  She didn’t demand a lot from him.

But… he’d always been drawn to people who reached for something more.  Someone always in motion, like he was.  He knew he’d screw it up and break her heart if that person came along. 

He ended it with Karrie.  She had to tell her parents that he wasn’t going to meet them.   He found the design for the tattoo she planned to get for their “serious” “grown-up” relationship in his kitchen wastebin a few weeks later, when he finally came back from a mission. 

Eva came along less than a year later.  Theron hadn’t thought of Karrie since.  Until now.

She wouldn’t have put him through this.  She wouldn’t have had this sort of thing happen to her. 

And yet, despite the ease of that relationship, Theron didn’t miss it – or her – as much as he should have, if he was at all smart or knew what was good for him.  Karrie wasn’t as dragged around by the universe as he had been…

Or she had been.

Theron’s eyes opened fully.  Theron had comforted someone personally, beyond just reassuring Karrie that inexperience wasn’t a turn-off and she did look good in that dress.

It was easier to do it with victims, strangers, people he didn’t have to get attached to, people he just had to shepherd to the next safe harbor. 

He’d jumped into the deep end with Eva, with far less hesitation than he expected of himself.  He… wanted to help Eva to start picking up the pieces.  It wasn’t a professional requirement.

Theron could argue it was selfish.  Getting to hold her was selfish.  Letting her divulge everything, getting more intel on her – could be selfish.

Yet, he felt himself tugged along, experiencing pieces of her shame, her horror, her living nightmare that Darmas Pollaran still worked in the galaxy.  The man’s reach seemed to be neverending.  Hell, Theron had thrown himself off the professional and emotional equivalent of a cliff….

Somehow, that fact was now both intensely gratifying and terrifying at the same time.  He had done something on a personal level that –

that—

-- that he hadn’t had for himself when he had his world taken out from under him. 

It was an old wound, he reminded himself.  It was over.  Done.  Nothing to fix anymore – his life was what it was, and he was happy in his service. 

But he’d done that kindness for Eva anyway.  He…was capable.  That…was surprising. 

And that gut of his told him she’d do it for him in a heartbeat.

Only if he let her.  He wouldn’t – didn’t need to.

Theron most certainly didn’t like it when that thought didn’t ring true to himself.  He let out a low groan and rolled over, burying his head under his thin, cheap pillow. 

**

The words came first. 

“Listen, it’s your ship, your choice as to what you have on it.  I’m just saying that you’re running a riskier game now that you’re a privateer.  You wouldn’t want anything to happen to him.”

“….you don’t like him.”

“That’s true, but I’m just asking you to think about it, sweetheart. He’s an old cat…. This isn’t a business for old men.”

“Then why are you in it?”

A laugh. It sounded darker in retrospect.

Then came the vision.

It was a semi-tropical planet.  He’d never be cold.  The natives worshipped the skeletons of large, ancient cats they dug up.  These prehistoric animals were long gone, but the reverence remained.  Eva was willing to gamble that they’d accept a smaller version as a god.   She certainly dressed the role of some ethereal being from their past; she’d assiduously researched their history, their cave paintings, their religious systems.   She had to fit. 

Hylo would fit. 

Bowdaar actually fit as well; their mother-goddess had a hirsute companion of great height.  Father, lover, protector – the exact nature of their connection in the local religion was unclear.  Eva didn’t care.  They just had to carry it off for the few minutes it took to deliver the most precious cargo. 

“Little girl, you don’t have to do this.”

“I want him to be safe.”

Bowdaar crooned down at her.  Her chest felt so tight as she carried Hylo. He had his paws on her shoulder, looking back at the ship he hadn’t been off of in the twelve years he’d lived with Eva.  In short, almost his entire life since kittenhood.  He headbutted the side of her face, purring loudly in her ear. 

“Why are you doing this for a man who doesn’t sleep on your ship anyway?”  Bowdaar asked her.

“He says…”  Eva didn’t bother to finish.  Bowie wouldn’t understand.

The last, questioning meow in the arms of a grateful priestess nearly broke her and made her run back.

But she didn’t. 

Hylo was deified, as Eva expected.  He never wanted for anything.  

Eva missed him so much. 

She didn’t deserve him.

**

“So good to catch you in, Captain. I trust you’re finished playing white knight to poor little smugglers?”

Eva stared up at his image on the holoscreen.  He looked displeased.  “Alilia is giving us a piece of the action.”

“The kid would have been worth a lot more to Dodonna,” Darmas answered coolly.

“Yeah, the kid – Trick is a child.  I don’t traffic in sentients, Darmas,” Eva retorted with far more heat.

Darmas scoffed. “Could you really call it that?  Sentient?” 

Eva squared herself.  “Is there a point to the call, other than to question my decisions?  I still got skin in the game, plus I have a trustworthy contact that won’t burn us – compare that to the White Maw, who have a modest collection of brain cells they rent out by the hour.  You going to narc on me to Dodonna?”

Darmas gave her a hard look.  After a few tense moments, he spoke.  “Let’s drop it.  If you’re finding yourself at loose ends, a business opportunity has presented itself that I thought might interest you.  If you aren’t thinking of a career change…”

“I’m a smuggler, sweetheart.  I do business in non-sentient creatures and objects.”  Eva glared at the man before her.  She wasn’t going to back down.

“You’ll love this, then.  It might even play to your heroine complex …”                                                                                                                

After the comm was switched off, Eva caught Risha snarling at where Darmas’ image once stood.  Akaavi, leaning at the entryway to the lounge, noticed.  “She didn’t fulfill the contract, you know.”

Risha swallowed hard.  “Some contracts aren’t worth keeping.”  She tore her eyes away and marched off.

**

Darmas was just out of reach behind the transparisteel divider.  He smiled at her, pleased she had come to see him, a year later.  They’d exchanged pleasantries.  He knew she remained the Voidhound, but her identity as Eva Corolastor was safe.  He knew how to keep a secret. 

The former spy folded his hands in front of him.  “Got the locket.”

“Hope you got it somewhere safe,” she said nonchalantly.  He stifled a laugh as he got the unsaid dirty joke. 

The conversation trailed off into a silence.  He darted a glance toward the guard before daring to slide his hand along the table through the small gap in the divider.  Darmas had been exceedingly well-behaved the past year – model prisoner.  They’d downgraded his security status.  He could have received a small parcel – subject to search, of course – through the gap.  Instead, he sought a touch of her hand.

Eva didn’t give it to him. 

He cocked his head slightly to the side, as if getting a fix on prey.  “I did mean what I said, sweetheart.”

“On the stand?”

Darmas’ smile disappeared.  “You know why I said those things.  They were coming after you.  What was perjury, after life plus 300?”

Eva leaned back in her visitor’s chair and crossed her legs.  “Am I supposed to thank you? After all that?”

Darmas remained close to the transparisteel.  “No.  I’m supposed to apologize for that. And Corellia.  But I meant what I said there – I was a fool for not telling you who I was.  Dealing you in as a real partner should have happened before.” 

“Before” would have coincided with the locket.  That had meant a lot of things, once.  Now it was Eva’s turn to tilt her head and study Darmas as if he was some rodent.  “You’re sorry for not making me an agent of the Empire too.”

“Yes.”

“You’re sorry for Corellia.” 

She sat up and leaned in toward the divider again.

“Yes.”

“You’re sorry for hurting me.”

Her hand began to slither toward the gap, toward his hand.

“Yes.”

“But you’re not sorry for the trafficking cover.”

Darmas’ eyes hardened, and he made the mistake of looking away from her in some sense of shame, leaning back.    “I did what I had to in order to continue my business for the Empire. If I had dealt you in, things wouldn’t have continued that way.  That was my mistake.”

“But you’re not sorry for what you did to maintain cover.”

Eva’s hand stayed on her slide of the divider, flat to the table.

“No.”

When Darmas looked at her again, he realized he had missed Eva’s transition from the girl he once knew to the Voidhound.  He had no time to react; he’d been out of the field too long. 

Her right arm shot through the gap in the divider, and she sank her fingers into his prison-issued shirt collar

With everything she had in her arm, Eva wrenched Darmas face forward into the transparisteel once – his nose splattered blood.  The guard startled. 

He tried to pull back and away, and she let him, for a second.  Then she was on her feet, the visitor’s chair shoved aside, and she yanked him back into the divider again.  This time, he managed to turn his face to the side, but Eva got the satisfaction of hearing Darmas’ cheekbone pop and snap. 

“For the women,” she hissed. 

Darmas’s eyes opened, the circles under his eyes already darkening.  The guard was on his feet now, but he seemed uncertain as to whether to intervene. 

Everyone knew what Darmas Pollaran had done.

The former spy was too dazed to really resist Eva.  Eva stared at Darmas for a moment,  then jerked him back one more time and his face met the transparisteel visitor divider one last time.

“For Hylo.”

Then she released him and he slumped forward on the table.  She shook the loose droplets of his blood off her hands, wiping the rest on her black trousers, where no one would see.  The guard, stricken, stared at her.  Wordlessly, she procured a small stack of credits and pushed them into his frozen hands. 

“What about you?” 

Eva looked back at Darmas.  She saw him run his teeth through his mouth, and somehow, he retained a sort of elegance, a sort of grace as he plucked a lost tooth from his mouth.  He held her gaze, unyielding as ever. 

“Not worth it.”

**

Eva woke with a start, and she was discombobulated. 

Strange place.                                        

No.

Wait.

She was in her bed for the first time in weeks.  She hadn’t woken up in the middle of the night either.  She’d gotten through all the dreams, all the memories without using anything to enter a dreamless sleep. 

Eva needed to shower.  She’d gone to bed in her clothes from last night –

A fleeting memory of the final march up the gangplank, Theron holding her hand until a worried Risha opened the door.   The pair exchanged words that Eva didn’t hear, and then he gently guided her inside, not going further than the door. 

Eva had been ushered by Risha to her quarters, given a glass of water, and told to go to bed.    She did so, obediently.  And she’d managed to sleep all the way through the night, despite the dreams.

One hand rose up to her face to rub at her eyes, which were scratchy.  Hylo always made her cry, the only man ever worth her tears, honestly. 

Worth.  Eva absent-mindedly let her hand rift from her eyes up to the rat’s nest that now was her hair.  She never really had clarified what she meant by “not worth it,” to Darmas or to herself. 

Didn’t matter, she told herself.  Shower.

Eva took her time.  Her hair needed it.  She had aches and pains that that the spice had probably numbed or at least distracted from.  She knew she was going to feel like she had the flu for the next day or so.  Had she ---

No, she hadn’t promised Theron she would stop entirely.  She had to do business on Rishi.  But she had taken his point that what she had been doing was a no-go for him. 

Her own crew had made that point.  Eva sighed under the spray of the shower. Captaincy and control of the purse – it complicated who could tell her what to do.  The situation at hand did too.  After it all happened, dealing with her was like handling a live grenade with the pin out.  Then there was Bowie and what happened to him.  Risha, too. 

She didn’t pay Theron.  He wasn’t part of her crew.  He was removed from the personal situation.

He could do what needed to be done, and he didn’t care.

No, he cared.  But he was detached enough to cope with the consequences better than someone who had to live with her. 

Eva turned off the water.  Theron was a good friend that way.  Maybe another reason not to look deeper.  She needed that type of friend.

Then again, she had actually felt right being held by him.  He said he didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings; they had to wait for the op to end. Then… who knew.  And Eva had marked Theron as a runner; too much, and he’d be gone.

It didn’t have to last forever.  But it didn’t have to be something fleeting either.   Maybe something in the middle was what she needed, after all the others. 

Dry and dressed, Eva emerged from her quarters.  The ship was quiet.  Half the day was gone. 

She turned sharply into the galley.  Bowie sat there at the counter, quietly, holding a cup of caf in one hand.  His bandaged hand lay on the table, white and clean.  The smuggler and the Wookiee regarded each other for a moment before Bowdaar used his free hand to snag another mug by the handle off a nearby shelf and gestured toward the caf pot.  “Should be enough left for one.”

Eva grabbed the caf pot and sat down across from Bowie, pouring herself the last cup. 

They sat together for a while.  They didn’t speak.

Then, eventually, as they both reached the dregs:  “Aren’t we a pair.”

Bowdaar huffed in agreement.  “Old wounds still are dangerous when they do not heal properly.” 

Eva couldn’t disagree with that, so she let her mug “clink” with Bowdaar’s as they finished the last of the caf. 

“You should send a message to Spike.  He brought you home safe last night,” he suggested, finding the bottom of his empty mug absolutely fascinating to examine.

Eva held back a laugh but grudgingly nodded.  “Yeah, figure I should.  We were supposed to have a party after breaking Margok’s face, but I think… I’ve done my share for a few weeks in advance.”

“Eh, a little celebration is good – we have achieved much and broken many chains.”  Bowdaar pushed his mug off to the side.

Eva checked the bottom of her mug as well and set it down next to Bowie’s empty one.  “Speaking of chains – what happened to your gal pals after the prison break?  They go home?”

Bowdaar gestured with his hands as he spoke.  “Some did. Others were from here originally. It is one thing to be a slave, another to be self-employed – you understand, Little Girl?”

Eva nodded carefully as a frown started to appear on her face, but stopped at the initial phases.  “To be blunt, the Nova Blades picked people that wouldn’t be missed or those who were part of the underworld – single women of a certain age, the local prostitutes, people already on spice, people traveling alone….”  Eva rapped her knuckles once on the table as an idea started to form.  “Bowie, they give you an idea of how business runs here?  The local sex trade, not what the Novas do.”

Bowdaar looked at her as if she was crazy.  “No.  I heard mention of boyfriends and husbands for some, but I did not ask for the business model.”

Eva nodded.  “Right.  I’ll message Theron, let him know I’m still alive.  Then I need to go out.  Risha around?”

Bowdaar stared at her for a moment.  “She’s managing the books at the warehouse.  You have an idea.” 

“Always.” 

“Can I go with you to see your idea?”

“Yup.  You might even like it.”

**

Secure Connection: Virtue’s Thief to Safehouse

To:  TS

From:  EC

Subject:  Still alive

Thanks for last night. :)  No party today.  Lana say anything?”

To: EC

From:  TS

Subject:  Re: Still Alive

Good to hear. :)   She looked at me like a tomcat slinking in after a late night.  I told her no one mission-critical died, so everything is ok.

To: TS

From:  EC

Subject: Re:Re: Still alive

Wish I saw her face.  Back to business tomorrow?

To: EC

From: TS

Subject: Re:Re:Re: Still alive

As far as I know.  Late start for me today, but I might have more from the files you gave me by tomorrow.  Stay safe.

Eva had to force herself to not respond.  She had to get started on the day, if she was going to have anything complete by business hours tonight.

But texting with him did make her feel good.  And he always did tell her to stay safe – as if that was a reasonable option for either of them…

He was also probably hot to get back to that data that Risha had somehow forced him to abandon.  Eva had already started to formulate a few guesses as to what Risha – undoubtedly -- had  explained to him. 

The memory of his hand around hers told her whatever had been said, it hadn’t doomed anything. 

Eva noted that it was a few hours before sundown; people should be awake for the night.  She called for Bowdaar as she stepped out of the Thief in her Red Hull garb and headed toward the red light district.

**

Day 9

0900 came early the next day.  Eva was there to greet it.  She felt like absolute bantha drekk with full body aches and a chill that she couldn’t shake, but she was at the safehouse as requested by Lana.

The Sith was undoubtedly a kriffing morning person.

“Welcome back!”  Lana greeted her as she came into the main room of the safehouse. 

Theron distractedly grunted something along the lines of “hello.”  He was fixated on the data flowing through his implants and on the screen before him.  Eva had to check her smile.  She did love seeing that curious mind at work. 

Lana primly put down her datapad and addressed Eva directly.  “You have achieved more in your short time here than we ever thought possible.  You should be proud.  I may not have expressed adequate appreciation for your work to this point.”  Lana seemed anxious to give this praise to Eva; the smuggler wondered what prompted this.

Eva shrugged once.  “It’s a job. It’s done.”

The answer to Lana’s mood came rambling through the door at that moment.  “Droid, they are all just standing talking.  You said this would be a party!”  Jakarro groused loudly at D4.

D4 snapped right back.   “I also said we should stop for decorations on the way! Now the party’s terrible and it’s our fault as much as theirs!”

Lana grimaced slightly.  “I realized I may have indicated –”  

Eva checked her chrono.  “Little early for a party,” she said with a short laugh, as she privately considered that she’d been to more than a few parties that had breezed right through 9 am the morning after the night before.  “You could always come out to the Red Hulls’ little home on the bay if you want a real party. I have some business tonight to transact, but you can rely on the crew to make a good time.”

Jakarro mulled this over momentarily. “Done.  Just keep your Wookiee –”

Eva interrupted him smoothly. “Bowie is my heavy when I have to do business.  He lurks in my corner while I deal with men that think they’re a better businessman than I am.  He and I will be busy tonight, so feel free to hang out with the rest of the gang.”  Eva paused for a second, considering the nature of her business that evening.  “Risha might be with me too, so I hope you won’t mind the boys and Akaavi, if she’s up for it.” 

Jakarro nodded. “What about you, Beniko?” he asked the Sith Lord.

Lana thought it over and seemed indecisive.  “Well, someone has to stay here to monitor things; we try not to leave the safehouse unattended….”

Theron interrupted her smoothly, as if he had been listening to the conversation the entire time (when he clearly had not). “Go.  I have stuff tonight.  The Nova Blades files…  Give me one second, I think I have something.”

Lana only mulled it over for a moment more.  “A night out in disguise would be fair and fitting, since Theron has disappeared a few times.”

Eva didn’t respond outwardly.  She knew where he’d been on both occasions. 

“Then it’s decided.  We make acquaintances with the Red Hulls officially while Agent Shan works.  Which isn’t different from what he normally does,” D4 dryly observed. 

Theron was still thick into his data as he distantly replied, “Yeah.  Slicing the Nova Blade files is slow going, but I’ve already found more references to this Torch person that Margok and Revan were talking about.”

Theron’s fingers went to his template and with a touch gesture, he was able to throw the data in his implants out toward the main strategy table.  Some security holos of Mandos with helmets on appeared.  A speculative map of where their home might be popped up as an inset to the larger holo display.  “Torch definitely heads up a group of Mandalorians based here on Rishi. They were allied with the Nova Blades, then the Revanites but then broke ties within the last few months – and not on good terms.  If we can find Torch and get her talking, she might give us some good intel. Maybe even help us take the Revanites on.”

Eva made a noise tight in her throat.  “I wouldn’t count on that. It depends on the type of Mandos they are – motivations, their views on contracts and discretion, and whether they still have the spirit of battle.  Mandos love a good fight, but if they’ve left the Novas and the Revanites alone… I’d guess there’s a reason for that.” 

“Think you can consult your resident Mando on the matter?” Eva turned to look at Theron, who had finally pulled himself out of the data. 

Eva shrugged. “She didn’t even know there was an entire covert on-planet. I’ll have to ask her what she needs to even start investigating Mando clans.” 

Theron nodded then closed his eyes.  “Sending off some of the holo stills of the Mandalorians to the Thief.  I know some have a particular sigil, helmet designs… I’ll leave it to her.” 

Eva watched and privately reaffirmed her decision never to have something installed in her brain like that.  Too weird, too intrusive.  “So intel analysis today, party tonight.  You two need me for anything?” Eva asked both spies.

Lana looked down at her datapad and seemed to run through a checklist.   “No, I don’t believe so.  We need more intel to proceed, but I do believe the Nova Blades are nearly out of commission.  I would advise some caution in mixing with the Rishi locals.  Some may not be pleased about this development, though I’m confident many are.” 

Eva gave Lana a nod, then said to Jakarro and D4.  “See you tonight.  Come hungry.  We got a new chef.” 

Eva turned to say goodbye to Theron, but he was already gone with his data. 

Well, she had distracted him from it for long enough.  As Eva walked back out of the safehouse, she let herself grin slightly.

**

Day 9, night

The pre-set alarm went off in his head.  He took a deep breath and checked the chrono.  Time to hit the head. Oh, and eat something, or else he’d miss today’s meals entirely.  Theron knew himself well enough to remind himself to eat. 

After he finished his business in the washroom, Theron pulled out one of the nicer ration packs from Virtue’s Thief.  The safehouse was silent except for the hum of the machines: the main computer, the strategy table, the consoles he and Lana had hastily improvised when the main wasn’t sufficient, and then their two droids, A7 and T3.  T3 had been the last addition, thanks to Eva.

When he’d staggered in yesterday morning, T3 had asked if the Smuggler was ok.  “As much as she can be.”

“You = friend = her?”

“Yes,” he had answered, with no hesitation. 

Theron looked at the rehydrated bread roll before he bit into it.  He felt a slight pang when he thought about how effectively he’d ignored her for most of yesterday and today.  She didn’t seem to mind it, but…

He’d consciously done it.  Everything from night before last – it was a lot for him.  It was intense. 

He couldn’t even get through “meet the parents” prep with Karrie, but hearing about the intergalactic sex offender Imperial spy ex-boyfriend?  And then offering comfort and emotional support?  Somehow, that wasn’t a challenge. 

He was fine with bearing that emotional weight with Eva. 

And that wasn’t fine. 

The fact that that it immediately didn’t freak him out made him freak out later. 

So Theron had let work consume him.  Admittedly, he would have been like a kid on Life Day morning with the new data anyway, but he really let it run his life the last day and a half.

The safehouse door rattled, then swung open.  Theron put the bread roll down long enough to pull his blaster and carefully train it toward the door. 

Lana walked into the room, then startled as she realized Theron was there and armed. She shot him a withering look.  Theron hastily reholstered his blaster.   “What happened?” he asked. 

Lana walked over to the medkit they kept in the room and popped it open.  “Apparently, I’m allergic to the Rishi coconut, and the very lovely drink I had was made with coconut rum.  I’m taking an anti-histamine and going to bed.” 

Upon closer observation, she did look a bit puffy. 

“What’s really rotten is that I already ordered my food – by the way, they did get that chef from the Wolf’s Den to come over to the warehouse tonight – and I absolutely couldn’t stay another moment.  The Captain is covering it, but all the same, I rather it not go to waste.”  Lana rooted through the medkit before finally pulling out a small blue pill bottle, consulting the label, and shaking out a pill before putting the medkit back to rights.

Theron crossed his arms and leaned back against one of the computer consoles.  “That your round-about way of getting me out of the safehouse?” 

“You do need a break, Theron. You’ve been at it nearly constantly since you woke up yesterday afternoon,” Lana answered matter-of-factly.  “You were drinking caf still when I left a few hours ago, so you’re clearly not going to bed yet.”  She swallowed the pill in one smooth movement, dry. 

Theron dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand.  “The faster I finish that, the sooner we get back into the good graces of our respective governments.  This sooner this ends.”

Lana swallowed twice, and not just for the good of the pill.  “Maybe I’m too new at this, and maybe the grand sense of adventure hasn’t worn off yet... but I have enjoyed the independence this has afforded me.”

“You thinking of running off with Jakarro when this is all over?  Or Bowdaar?”  Theron cracked.

Lana let out a short laugh. “I have no idea what it is that makes Wookiees like me so much.   It defies explanation.”  Then Lana seemed to contemplate the larger question.  “I am keen to return to home – the Empire.  To some shred of normalcy.  But at the same time, seeing the galaxy through an entirely different viewpoint has been enlightening.  If I had remained strictly in the Military Sphere, I wouldn’t have.” 

Lana crossed her arms and regarded Theron.  He waited for whatever it was she was going to ask, from one spy to another.  “Is it awful of me to say that I’ve enjoyed this?  This dangerous, potentially life-altering conspiracy and its impact on trillions of sentients on all sides – my experience of living a life that is not my own – there’s a part of me that won’t regret having gone through it?”

Theron gave a half-roll of his shoulder.  “Part of the thrill of it.  New faces, new life every day.  The chance to play the hero – for whatever side you’re on.”  Theron paused and let the light of the console play across the room for a moment as it did its regularly scheduled security sweep. Lana was new at this, but she was smart enough to see her own shortcomings and the perverse joys one got to experience as a spy.   

“The thing is, you will tell yourself you’re doing the real good work.  You’ll never get glory or credit for it like an Emperor’s Wrath or the Hero of Tython; the good things you do always remain in the dark, and so you let yourself get a bizarre sense of pride about it.”  Theron looked over at Lana, pointedly.  “For some agents, they think it gives them license to do things they shouldn’t, because just like the good, the bad never gets attention either.  Sure, your superior might make a comment –”

“But if you’ve achieved the objective, there is little for them to critique.  Results, not methods,” Lana filled in.  “A cold pragmatism, which I can appreciate.” 

The fact that Lana was turning over the idea in her head with her lawful, Imperial-shaped world views –

The same systems that created her created ---

“I think I’ll take the opportunity to go out, Lana.  Feel better.” 

Theron lit out of there before he could read her face any further. 

About three quarters of the way to the warehouse, he had the dull realization that he wasn’t just walking away from a confrontation.  He was going to someone.

**

Forty hours.  Akaavi checked the chrono over the bar.  Forty hours, and then she would be back on active duty. 

She’d made her own choices.  They had been foolish.  The consequences were appropriate to the medical readouts.  She’d even consulted the Holonet, and the restrictions the Captain had placed on her were not onerous, assuming she took her medicines as instructed.

Akaavi had taken them right down to the precise, exact minute she’d started dosing herself.  One week, no more. In the meantime, however, she had not been inactive.  She had tightened security protocols on the ship.  Now, Shan had started feeding her intel about the Mandalorian residents of Rishi.  That was news to her, when the Captain had first mentioned it.  The wilds of Rishi didn’t lack prey for a hunter to work with, but it seemed off to Akaavi that they gave up bounty hunting in favor of slave trading as partners of the Nova Blades.

An old Mando saying: Slaving was like hunting mice: no challenge, no honor, and cruel to the mice.

If slaving was acceptable but working with the Order of Revan was not, what sort of Mandalorians were they? Were they dar’manda’ by their actions?  And who had they been before?  Where had they been before? 

As Akaavi sipped her vanilla cream soda (no spike, she’d made clear to Guss), she combed through the images supplied by Shan.  The helmets were all different.  No sigils.  The visors – the visors were the same shape on a number of them.  It was a strange thing to mandate on a Mandalorian suit of armor, but not out of the question.  But then there was the complication of other Mandalorians who wore different visors.  Some of them matched each other.

Akaavi scowled.  It wouldn’t surprise her if they were a conglomeration of outcasts, of failed warriors from across the stars.  They just washed up here on Rishi. 

And yet….

Akaavi’s train of thought was interrupted as Eva and Risha emerged from the backrooms, trailing behind their business associates for the night.  Stranger, less rough crowd than usual.  Bowdaar brought up the rear, and he seemed inordinately pleased. 

 Eva was talking to Risha but then stopped, abruptly enough that Risha looked over at her and stopped walking.   Eva had seen something outside through the open doors of the warehouse.  More likely, someone outside.  Akaavi shoved her datapad into a small compartment behind the bar, which caught Guss’ attention.  “You have a view outside?” Akaavi asked.

Guss took a few steps back to look at the holovid cam he’d hastily rigged up to view the exterior, in the general vicinity that Eva was looking. “Uh oh.”

“How big of an ‘uh oh’?” Akaavi asked, watching the doorway and watching Eva stare outside.

“Grand scheme of things, not very big.  Next three days, massive headache.  May want to hide the extra ammunition.” 

Three days, massive headache, hide the ammo –

“Are you karking kidding me?”  Akaavi got out of her seat and came around to Guss’ side of the bar.  She stared at the lurking figure on the docks of Rishi.

How?

How in the galaxy did this idiot manage to find them right at the moment they were going to deal with other Mandalorians?  Akaavi only had thirty-nine hours, forty minutes to go until she was medically clear. 

“Kriff, it’s Gronn,” she swore out loud. 

Chapter Text

Akaavi wasn’t sure if Bowdaar had heard her or if Gronn had drawn close enough to the door to see him.  Either way, the Wookiee’s posture stiffened momentarily before murmuring something to Risha. 

Eva – Eva was already walking toward him, as if compelled.  He had that kind of power over her, and Akaavi never understood it.  Nobody did. 

Akaavi heard the gravelly voice before she saw the tell-tale helmet live and in color within the warehouse, but only a moment before.  Light from the warehouse glinted off his visor as he almost stepped into the light. “Evita.” 

“Oh, extra bad timing.”  Guss carefully poked Akaavi in the elbow with one finger, minimizing contact, before backing all the way up away from her as he pointed toward the main entrance.

Agent Shan was here.

Before Akaavi could say anything to him or yell out to Eva, Gronn fired off two grapples – one to the roof of the warehouse, and the other around Eva’s waist.  Her surprise was almost immediately supplanted by laughter as she was yanked toward him, and then the pair disappeared up into the night.

Agent Shan saw the whole thing, but Akaavi was quick to notice he didn’t move.  He didn’t panic and run to where they had stood.  He looked at Risha and Bowdaar, who were rolling their eyes and walking toward her and Guss at the bar.  She and Guss hadn’t moved, and minus their displeasure at the intruder’s presence, they hadn’t reacted out of fear either.

Akaavi believed Theron Shan was owed an explanation.

**

3640 BBY

13 years after the Treaty of Coruscant

Days after the Battle of Corellia

She heard it before she saw it:  something small, something struggling.  Little squeaks of distress were still able to penetrate the dust and ruin of Coronet City. 

Eva rounded a corner, but she folded herself behind it when she found what she had heard.  Some huge Houk had a child Selonian by the throat, dangling him far above the street with a single thick hand.  “You know, I used to find baby animals like you when I was a kid.  I wonder if you make the same noise when you get squished.”

The young creature squawked again and struggled all the more.  Eva had enough, too. She audibly unholstered both blasters.  “You put him down.  Nicely.”  The Houk turned his head to see her, but there was no recognition on his face that he wished to understand her instructions. 

The safeties came off next.  “You put him down while he’s still alive.  You let him run away, still alive.  Or I will space you.”

“You ain’t nothing, girly.  I bet I could pop his head like a zit before—”

Even after everything had happened, Eva was a damn fine shot.  Two bolts burned through the Houk’s arm.  She heard his bellow, and Eva was off – she wasn’t built for speed, but goddammit she was going to try to make it. 

As her vision bounced with each step, Eva saw the muscles tense as he tried to live up to his bet, but the damage she’d inflicted was too severe – after precious important moments of hesitation and determination, he dropped the child with a final angry splutter. 

Eva wasn’t a fast runner, but somehow, she had reached the child before he could tumble to the duracrete beneath them.   She broke the child’s fall with an arm, slinging him behind her and the flare of her long, blastweave coat.  The spin and the weight caused her off-hand blaster to fly out of her hand, clattering somewhere into the ruins.  She felt the Selonian’s small body inhale sharply, ready to cry for his mother – he was fine for now.

The fact she stood between him and an enraged Houk – Eva was not fine for now. 

She thrust out the still-hot blaster ready to fire again as the Houk attempted to stand up straight again, his arms useless.  “I’ll burn you down.  Get out of here.”

The Houk sneered at her.  “Gonna tell me to pick on someone my own size?” 

Before Eva could answer, he was charging. 

Her finger instinctively pulled the trigger, and the bolt flew true into his shoulder, toppling him off to the side – but not off his feet entirely.  He was still moving, still trying to get at her –

Another blaster zipped off to Eva’s left, and whatever meat was in the Houk’s head skittered across the duracrete. 

A rough, deep voice came through a modulator.  “Pick on someone your own size.  Satisfied?”

Eva blindly reached back to press the Selonian child’s head into her coat, and after a few stutter steps, he picked up on the fact she was trying to lead him away.  He didn’t need to see this.

Given it was a Houk’s head, the blaster was high-powered – military grade, not a personal sidearm.  Eva’s brain was rapidly weaving pieces together as the suit of body armor from the wanted posters came into view.

The Grand Champion of the Great Hunt.  His helmet was trained on her and the tiny second set of legs that stuck out from behind her coat.

The Selonian child squeaked again behind her.  “I can run home,” he pleaded into Eva’s coat, desperately.

Eva regarded the still, silent figure in front of her.  She tilted her head slightly to her left, and he nodded.  She let go of the child.  “Run straight ahead, to your left, and get underground.  Don’t stop, don’t look back.  You never saw me.” 

“I won’t!”  The boy was off like a shot, not even looking at the Grand Champion or back at the woman who had cloaked him in the night and hidden him away for vital, precious seconds. 

The two figures stood in the ruins of Coronet City.  They weren’t partisans.  They didn’t have to kill each other on sight.  Hopefully.

“Grand Champion?” Eva ventured first.

“That’s me.  Heard my advertisement?”  came the shockingly cheery response. 

The tension broke.  Eva internally had to recalibrate.  So much for the cold-hearted, cold-blooded murderer of the Republic Chancellor.  “Yeah.  Catchy.”

The armor creaked as it moved toward her.  “Didn’t expect to see you down here, after the fireworks in the sky.” 

“I’m just a smuggler.  Everything else is a misunderstanding,” she answered. 

“People who are ‘just smugglers’ don’t stick their neck out for others.  And they don’t show up in the background of major Pub propaganda,” he retorted.  He towered over her, and the rill on his helmet made him even taller. 

Eva cast a look back at the remains of the Houk.  “Thanks.”

The voice modulator scoffed.  “Pfft.  I should thank you.  Been looking for a reason to space that asshole for ages.  You gave me the shot.”

Eva turned to look up at him.  “He part of your crew?”

The body language of the Grand Champion’s shrug conveyed haplessness.  “I picked him up on a prison planet –”

“There’s your first mistake.”  Eva didn’t feel like sharing she had feeling her Belsavis pick-up was also a really bad idea – but for now, Ivory was useful.  Very useful. 

“Yeah, tell me about it.”  The Grand Champion turned his head to look where the boy had gone.  “My crew and I aren’t Imps.  We work for them but –”

“I work for the Pub.  I’m not Pub,” Eva reassured him.

The Grand Champion looked down at her.  “Even if you were, I wasn’t going to let him hurt you.  Or the kid.  What kind of a guy hurts defenseless things for fun?  I mean, you’re not defenseless, but the kid…”   The Grand Champion looked over her should at the remains of the Houk, and Eva wouldn’t have judged him harshly if he’d pumped another few blaster bolts into him.

Indeed, what kind of man hurt the defenseless, the vulnerable? 

Eva knew.

The Grand Champion was rambling on, unaware of her internal turmoil.  “Been trying to put things to rights around here.  Empire did a nasty thing to the Selonians.  I did my part, but -- I don’t – my crew and I aren’t like that.  Especially now since he’s gone.…”

Eva cut right to the chase.  “You got a bounty on me?  Already?”

The Grand Champion startled.  “No.  I think they need more to go on than ‘shadowy possibly female figure.’”  He paused.  “But who really knows who the Voidhound is anyway?  Could be anyone.” 

The pair studied each other a few moments more.  Then the Grand Champion held out a hand.  “Gronn.”

“Eva.”  She grasped it. 

**

Well, that was an unexpected twist.

Theron fought back a number of urges, one of which was to storm right out of there.  That was the least logical of the bunch, but it was the one that burned most.  He noticed Risha and Bowdaar drifting toward the bar where Akaavi and Guss perched, already discussing this development. 

When in Coruscant…

Theron joined them at the bar, calmly.  “Where’s Corso?” he asked, voice low.

Risha bit back a laugh.  “Off tonight, fortunately.  Otherwise, he would have been scaling the roof like a fool trying to chase those two.  He really doesn’t like Gronn.”

“The only one who likes Gronn is Fuzz Face here, and even that defies logic,” Guss countered.  Then he reached for a glass and poured himself a vanilla cream soda.  “But he’s not that bad.”

“He’s not the worst,” Risha clarified.  Akaavi grumbled slightly, but there was a grudging … acceptance?  …resignation?  Toward the man who had just left the warehouse.

Bowdaar defended his opinion.  “There are certain things we never have to worry about with him.  Ever.  As long as they’re stubborn as they are, they’re both safe with each other.”

Theron watched the conversation turn around the bar as he felt his implants grow warm on his forehead.  Through T3’s back door access, he was trying to remember and search for ---

The Grand Champion.  That was him.  Despite the night obscuring most of him, the way the light reflected off the helmet reminded him of certain intel holos he’d collected.

“How did you cross paths with the Grand Champion?” Theron asked, calling up the parts of the Korriban raid files he’d privately kept reserved in his memory. 

All of them at once answered, “Corellia.”

Where Darmas Pollaran ended, the Grand Champion began, it seemed.  He’d known both agents had been on Makeb, but the Voidhound had already become his first choice. 

Akaavi let a hissing breath out through her teeth and shook her head.  “It’s a strange association between those two.  Mostly due to him.  Gronn is a zealot.  He goes beyond Resol’nare.  He wasn’t born to Mandalore or to the culture, but he’s taken on some of the more …ascetic practices.  He never takes the helmet off.  He doesn’t come out during the day unless it’s for a kill.  He does not break bread with his fellow Mando’a.”  Akaavi grimly looked out into the night, her captain long-disappeared.  “He’s the worst for her.  And the best.”

 “How does that work?”  Theron asked.

Bowdaar barked some clarification.  “Nothing deeper develops with them – but it’s honest.  It’s clear.  Nothing is hidden. She won’t live by his code, and he won’t take off the helmet for her.”  Bowdaar stopped and then cast a look over at the girls and Guss, not daring to say more. 

Risha cut in, bluntly.  “He doesn’t take anything else off for her, in case you were jealous.” 

Theron was mindful not to look at Risha.  Eva had joked about not having a Mando kink in private, but he hadn’t realized that it wasn’t a joke.  “So what’s the dynamic, then?”

Shaking his head, Bowdaar grumbled, “Humans ruin everything with genitalia – especially love.”  Theron could pick up that his implants had most certainly substituted a more technical word for what Bowdaar said.  The sentiment was there, though.  The Wookiee got up and headed back to the dock to watch the card game. 

Love?

He must have asked aloud, because Akaavi gave a little sigh as she watched Bowdaar go.  Her scowl lessened.  “She loves him, and he loves her, I would suppose.  But it’s not like what she feels for her crew.  It’s not like – before.   It has its limits.  It’s self-destructive.”

Theron stared out into the night.  “Why?”

Risha sighed.  “Rebound.  After everything, she latched –”

Akaavi shook her head emphatically.  “He wasn’t first.  You forgot the CorSec man,” she said to Risha.  To Theron, “Older, wiser, devout to the Republic.  Somewhat like you, Shan, but not at all.  He knew she was rebounding and wanted nothing to do that.”

Risha nodded reluctantly.  “Which didn’t sit well with her, because he wouldn’t take her to bed, and you know what she was probably thinking after – ”  Risha didn’t continue the sentence. 

Damaged goods, Eva had said.

“As long as Gronn follows his warped Way, he won’t take her to bed unless she takes on his strange little belief system.  She won’t; she won’t be controlled like that.  So he’s safe for her to run around with him…and Bowdaar likes him for that.  He can’t betray her that way.”  Akaavi’s voice turned tight and sharp. 

Theron remembered being vulnerable at 22, 23.  Not in the same way she was.  He…his issues in that department were different. 

Guss sipped his soda.  “The problem is that they rather waste parsecs with each other instead of something deeper.  It’s like fireworks when they’re working together – they get the job done, they have fun in the off hours – and like Risha said, not that type of fun.”

Given the fact he’d seen the Skavak footage (unbeknownst to them, but all the same), Theron found it bizarre that the crew were trying to defend her honor or virtue.  “Her private life is her private life.  It’s not my place to judge it, as a business partner on this op.”

Risha hummed with thoughtful look on her face – he’d almost say it was approvingly, but she always had a certain reserve.  Risha was always guarded. 

Akaavi shook her head.  “I think she’s selling herself short.”

“I think they’re going to get each other killed one day,” Guss added. “They don’t do quiet nights.”

Theron felt his heart sink slightly, but it was all out of his hands.  He had nothing to say about her actions in her off-time – which this technically was.

Theron also knew himself well enough to know he was jealous.  He’d watched her be whisked away without hesitation by another man, and he had a response to that. 

Not that he had any right, stake, or claim.  The fact he felt ---

Ugh.

Theron contemplated the option of heading back to the safehouse and to Lana and her pragmatism. 

“So, what did Lana order anyway before she left?”

**

“Why the hell are you here anyway?”  The thrill of being stolen away was fading as Eva waited for him to administer his night cap.  After the last few weeks, she didn’t have the same tolerance for this sort of thing.`

Especially since she wanted to join in.  Gronn always could ferret out some new thrill.  He never bored her.

The hiss came first, then the answer.  “Crysta’s dead.”

Her brain stalled for a moment, trying to recall in the late night.  “What?”  Eva stepped closer, trying to get an angle on Gronn’s helmet, the Rishi lights bouncing off him. He withdrew the hypospray from his neck cover.

“Crysta’s dead,” Gronn repeated.  “My old handler.  She got spaced here.” 

Eva leaned back against the building he’d scored the stims at.  “Sorry.  You on the hunt now?”

Gronn nodded.  “Heard about the Red Hulls.  Saw you.”  He tilted his armored head toward her.  “Got distracted.  But I also need your help.”

Eva looked out back in the general direction of the warehouse for a moment.  “Why me?”

Gronn rubbed at his neck.  “Crysta’s daughter is a smuggler.  Got in trouble with the Kanawyn Syndicate. I was wondering if you could – ”

Eva felt her temper well up involuntarily.   “You don’t need my help. You need the Voidhound.”

Gronn had the grace to bow his head toward her.  “Yeah.  But I need my girl around too –”

“Gronn, every girl is your girl – me, Mako, Crysta’s kid now.  Any damsel, anywhere – you’re a sucker for pretty women in trouble… Crysta’s kid looks cute, right?”  Eva was only half-teasing; for someone who never showed his face, Gronn had a tendency to draw in good-looking women.

Maybe there was a helmet kink after all.   

“You say that, and I’ve never let you down,” he reminded her, brightly.  The eagerness in his voice belied his occupation and the coolness with which he executed those job responsibilities.. 

Eva considered an idea for a moment before voicing it.  “We can talk business tomorrow morning – and I don’t care what you think, I do business here during daylight hours.  Be awake or be gone.” 

Her companion grunted. 

“Let’s keep it light tonight.  No business.  Just – how are you?”  A pause.  “What else do you have? Are you the only one who gets to have a good night?”

He chuckled.  As Gronn’s hand approached her, she realized he’d long had a dose for her prepared. The hiss of the hypospray against her neck was ice cold, but it felt good in the humid Rishi night.   “You sure you were careful?”  A little fun was fine.  Gronn-sized fun for Eva wasn’t so good; he stood close to 7 feet tall in his armor.

“Who does this more often, you or me?”

“I haven’t been good lately, so don’t ask.”

“….so how are you, Evita?”

“You want me talking about other men?”

There was a brief silence before he said, “Let’s say I owe you for a few inconveniences.  I’ll listen.”

**

Dinner didn’t settle well on stake out.  Again, the border between personal and professional interests was blurring for him, and he hated it – he hated it for the lack of discipline.  He hated it for the wait.  He hated it for the undue possessiveness he felt.

Theron had finally identified that unplaceable emotion he’d had back on Coruscant.  When she’d been hunted by Mandalorians before. 

Akaavi had assured Theron that Gronn’s quirks didn’t include trying to claim bounties on the Voidhound.  He’d known since the Battle of Corellia who she was.  She’d also said Gronn wasn’t “for the Empire,” but Theron had his doubts.  The man had killed Chancellor Janarus.   

Given Saresh’s tendencies to seek direct conflict with the Empire, Theron decided he could hate the Grand Champion just for that; Janarus wasn’t his favorite person by any means, but….the replacement was quick to grate on established agents and civil servants.

Theron lurked in the shadows of Virtue’s Thief.  He wanted to make sure Eva did make it home.  After an hour waiting after dinner, he finally heard them clamor across the docks. As he pitched his hearing implants toward them, his anger awakened. 

Eva was buzzing away on something, as her giggles echoed and her steps stumbled. Based on the way the beskar clinked against any available surface, Gronn wasn’t steady on his feet either – injectables?  Hyposprays? 

The oblivious pair skirted around the far edge of the ship, away from where he was waiting, and they ascended a drop ladder to the roof of the ship.  Eva’s laughter at Gronn’s stumbling didn’t improve Theron’s mood.  After they’d both made it up without breaking their necks, he heard the male voice say, “Fuckin’ a, girly.  You’d bring a man to knees with those cans.” 

“Yeah, but I can’t seem to draw you out of your can.”  There was rapping noise, as Eva struck his helmet with a few well-placed knocks.   “Love is shit, Gronn. Absolute shit.”  She sat down hard on the roof the Thief.

“Totally shit.  It rips your heart out, every time.”  There was a loud clatter as Gronn collapsed next to her.  “But we always work out.  Too bad you’re too stubborn.”

“You’re too stubborn.”  Eva let out a brief laugh. “You seem to run your mouth on an awful lot for a person who never lets me see him.”

“You see me all the time, Evita – I don’t hide me, just the ugly mug.” 

That struck a chord.

“Mandos always seem to have something to hide.  Don’t know whether it’s the job or the culture or what.”  Theron could hear Eva lean back against the ship to look upward toward at the sky. 

“Some do.  We’re not all the same,” Gronn replied, his voice increasingly distant as whatever was in his system took hold. 

“I know Akaavi isn’t like you,” Eva replied.  “I don’t know anyone like you.”

“I’m me.  I’m an indi—indiv—”  The word slurred and tumbled out, and laughter erupted as the rest of the sentence became impossible to come out.

“Well, that’s three of you on this planet – Akaavi, you, and Torian…assuming he’s still putting up with you?”

“Torian loves me,” Gronn insisted.  “You love me.  And there are more of us than you think, Evita—”

Theron felt his lips curl back in a smirk as he heard Eva answer, “Oh?  More Mandos?  Here?” The faux innocence was laid on thick, and Theron almost laughed at her audacity.

“Maybe.”

“Mandalorians are decisive if nothing else.  They must be here.”

Gronn seemed to sound confused for a moment.  “You know them?”

“Oh, yeah.  Akaavi knows everyone.  I’m wondering if you know them.”  There was a dull clunk of beskar, as if some part of Gronn was pushed against the hull of the ship.

“Um… yeah.  They came from Coruscant, you know?”  The voice was spaced out, increasingly distant.

“Yeah, I know.  Lots of different helmets – how many clans?”  Eva’s voice persisted.

“Dunno.”

“You happen to know one by the call name Torch?” 

Theron paused  to listen – she might be pushing too hard.

“Vizla made the calendar.  The way we are.  And I’m ending 32 for vaaaaay-cation.”  A solid, heavy CLUNK echoed into the night.

“The calendar?”  Eva said to herself aloud.  “Gronn – Gronn?  Ah, kriff, you idiot.”

Theron heard Eva get to her feet and throw open a hatch on top of the Thief.  “Son of a bantha, I hate you.” The beskar dragged across the helm of the ship before a moment of silence, then an audible crash down into the bowels of the ship. 

Theron only hesitated a moment before moving toward the gangplank of Virtue’s Thief; the crew had left it unlocked for him.  He had no idea what he was going to say, but …

Vizla.  Vizla.  Vizla.  The name mattered, and Theron knew it.  He punted the question over to T3 – he was distracted.

The Thief’s lights were low, but not out. He crept around the turn to medbay in time to see a pair of men’s boots disappear into the doorway. 

“If you’re going to follow me into my ship, you can help me haul his sorry ass on to the medbay scanner,”  Eva’s voice called out. 

She shouldn’t have heard him.  He was a spy. 

Theron apparently wore a disappointed expression as he stepped into room, since Eva looked up at him and her face immediately softened as she saw him.  “Don’t be like that.  I know every sound in this ship – everyone’s footsteps.”

Theron took some comfort in the fact that he could see her. Not the pirate, not the Voidhound, not whoever she pretended to be for the job.  Theron could see Eva.

She held his gaze as she knelt on the floor next to the still, unconscious body in armor.  Eva continued, “You… aren’t part of the crew.  You don’t sound right in here.”  She seemed to be holding back some key word, something she wanted to say to him.

“You certainly seem to have your wits about you,” Theron blurted out, instead of letting the words come out of her… or him. 

He winced almost immediately, but Eva only gave him a wry smile.  “I’m guessing the crew clued you in about Gronn?”

Theron gave her a brief nod.  “Your life, off-duty,” he reiterated.  Then he awkwardly gestured in the direction of the warehouse.  “I came in as you left.”

“Oh.”  Eva closed her eyes and had the grace to grimace.  “Help me get him up on the table. I think he overdosed on his stims,” she said calmly, eyes opening and rising to a crouched position.  “Please.”

She added that unprompted.  She raised her chin slightly, eyes tired.  She knew it was a significant request, given the context. 

Theron felt a pang of guilt.  Then he helped her haul the Mandalorian up onto a medbay table  More accurately, she helped him (Theron was far stronger).  The med scanner went critically red on nearly all stats. Whatever Gronn had consumed, it had him firmly in its deadly grasp.

As Eva prepped a reversal, Theron felt compulsed to ask, “Should you make one for yourself first?”

Her lips quirked in the harsh light of the medbay work table. “He gave me nitrous – poor man’s giggle stim.  The dumb stuff you get your hands on as a teenager.”  She cast a look at the prone body.  “He definitely went for something harder though.”

Relief shot through Theron.  He couldn’t say anything: “Good” was insensitive.  “Thank you” made it sound as if she did it for him – which he didn’t dare assume she did.  “Don’t do this anymore” was too plaintive and revealing. 

Fortunately, his message to T3 was finally answered with new data, saving him from any actual emotional introspection. He thumbed his implants at his temple to page through the information rapidly.  “According to Republic intel, a bounty hunter named Shae Vizla aided in the sacking of Coruscant, specifically the destruction of the Jedi Temple.”  He frowned at the thought.

“The calendar,” murmured Eva as her eyes returned to her work, hands still quick.  “The Treaty of Coruscant – we date everything in reference to it.”  She cast a look at Gronn before finishing her task. 

“Strange place for a hero of the Empire to end up. This isn’t exactly a hub of activity or even an upscale retirement,” Theron leaned back against a wall in med bay, thinking.  “According to T3, she’s become leader of Clan Vizla.  About five, ten years ago, they relocated here – and now live quiet lives.”

Eva made a face.  “That’s some extra strange Mando activity.  Gronn is a weirdo, but at least he’s still in the Game.”  Eva brought a prepped hypospray to Gronn’s bedside.  “This will bring him out of it, so if you have questions, you may want to be ready to ask him….if he’s awake after all that.”

With nimble fingers – and more than just one practice session, Theron speculated – Eva easily found a way around Gronn’s neck guard, and he heard the tell-tale pressurized hiss.   Gronn’s limbs jerked once, but he went still, his readings returning to yellow and green areas of acceptable function. 

Gronn didn’t wake up, however. 

Eva exhaled and tossed the empty hypospray in the general direction of the medbay’s sterilizer and stared at the screen with her hands on her hips.  She didn’t screen any of her emotions out as she looked at the bio readings and at the man on the table. 

The words “Are you sure you’re ok?” crept out of Theron’s mouth, unbidden.  He wanted to take them back and swallow them. 

Friends care if the other lives or dies, his inner voice reminded him. 

It’s one thing to live or die on a mission he gave.  It’s another to be involuntarily in danger.  But this – this was her life outside of him – that’s not his area of concern.

As Theron waged an internal war, Eva smoothly hopped up on the other table in medbay.  The computer scanned her, and her readings came through, green lit all the way.  “I’m fine,” she told him.  Then she gave him a mischievous look.  “The good stuff is on the third or fourth screen, if you wanted to indulge any curiosities.”

Theron stifled a laugh and made no moves toward the screen.  He was satisfied that she wasn’t about to crash.  He… could smile for that.  And she smiled back at him.  “That wasn’t exactly what I meant.”

Eva tossed her hair back over her shoulder.  “You know it won’t disappear like magic.  I just… get through it.”

“The grey area between being around vice and indulging – I know it’s the cover, but---”  Theron tried to articulate his worry without admitting --. 

“I’m fine, Theron,” she firmly interrupted him.  “Not all of us are so skilled at evasion or stalwart resistance in the face of temptation.”

“I wouldn’t call it stalwart,” he corrected her all too quickly.  There was a part of him that started to rail about inappropriateness, about too much disclosure before the op was over –

And then there too large a part of him that was pleased when she gave him a knowing grin and playfully swung her legs back and forth on her perch. “So I take it I’m not the only one with interesting dreams and not-so-idle thoughts?” 

She ---

She thought of him like that.  The way he hadn’t wanted to think of her but seemingly couldn’t help it.  Since Katalla, when they posed as intimates (and he had been left with a strange feeling of loss when he woke up alone).  The accidental meeting on Nar Shaddaa (they couldn’t stop staring at each other).  That moment of indiscretion on Manaan (across the desk or one of them in the chair?).  When he had spoken to her as if they lived together for the sake of a bouncer (it wasn’t the first time he’d wondered she was like in private life). 

And all those nights in between now and when he first saw her in Carrick Station (and the way she’d deliberately shown herself off to him in the cantina--)

Eva thought of him like that.  And that made Theron feel a thrill – forbidden, but something he couldn’t help but rejoice in.

Theron didn’t stop himself from affirming her statement.  “No, not the only one.” 

As her face brightened, he saw those dark eyes start to weave thoughts and consider options.  He couldn’t help but wonder whether one of those thoughts would involve Gronn waking up very jealous due to the noise –

Her commlink chirped in the thick silence, and her attention was immediately drawn to it; she’d been waiting, apparently.  She read the message and her eyes brows raised before her gaze returned to Theron.  “Do you know what I was doing before my village idiot showed up?”

Theron let out a short laugh before shaking his head ‘no.’

“I was in talks with the local sex workers,” Eva proclaimed proudly.  “Do you know that sex work is legal on Rishi as long as it isn’t coerced?”

“Can’t say I did extensive research on the matter,” Theron answered honestly.

“Well, the thing is, coercion happens anyway – we know it does, based on the Nova Blades and their allies.  And to be honest, not every establishment has a benevolent proprietor.  So the Red Hulls and their Captain had a meeting with several of the madams here in Raider’s Cove that feel that with adequate support from the right people in the right places, the sex workers could unionize and protect against such offenses.  The Red Hulls would be able to enforce union demands and essentially run out anyone who doesn’t want to play.”

Theron was quick to catch on.  “And wherever the women go, the men tend to follow on a planet like this.  Things are about to get hot here for any remaining Nova Blades and like-minded groups.”

Eva nodded.  “I said I was going to make this place better – not everyone would say encouraging prostitution would be a good route, but if it’s voluntary – if it is someone’s own business, not just an illusion or some show put on to make janes and johns feel less guilty –”  She trailed off, looking back down at the message which apparently read in the affirmative.  The unionization was going to happen.

And the smuggler delivered once again.  Maybe not the way the Pub  or the Imps wanted it.  But she did it in a way that pleased the locals, who would cover for her if agents came looking (just as Theron had all those months ago).

“Good work,” Theron said quietly.  She was doing something that extended beyond their operation – after she was gone, this change may yet remain. 

Eva look up from her commlink again, and Theron took a step toward her – she was in reach. 

Some unearthly noise emanated from the man on the table, and his vitals ticked up slightly.  That distracted Eva, who went to his bedside.  “Gronn, you in there?”

Another vile noise erupted before words attempted to form.  The armored figure awkwardly lurched into a sitting position.  Voice low and even rougher than it had been previously, Gronn managed to growl out, “You Agent Shan?”

Theron didn’t answer him.  He only stared at the Mandalorian in silence.  Gronn awkwardly shoved himself further forward, a wavering right hand held out to the SIS Agent. “I’m Gronn. I’m Marcus Trant’s man on the inside of the Revanites.”

Theron stared at the hand and then at the helmet that extended it. 

He had to fight the urge to bounce his fist off it.  Goddamn Trant, again.

“You know, the one who supplied the intel about the hit on Evita here,” Gronn offered, still addled. 

Theron did not move.  He did not speak.

Theron saw Eva move in his periphery.  “Excuse me?” her sharp voice cut through the silence in medbay.

“Oh, don’t get mad at him, babe.  He didn’t know about it til – til he blew up Carrick with Trant  – Trant told me not to holo call him,” Gronn drawled, attempting to turn himself toward her while maintaining his precarious seat on the medbay bed “I wanted to – I swear, beautiful.  But Trant’s giving me – giving us – the deal of a life time…”  The speech began to slur.  “You gotta believe me – I would have gone fought ‘em all for you.”

Eva’s face was unreadable as she calmly reached for a hypospray.  “I think you need a nap.  Say good night, Gronn.”

“Goodnight, Gronn,” he repeated back to her.  “And say sorry to Mako.  Again,” his voice hitched up slightly as she pushed his neckguard out of the way to shoot it right into his neck.

The Mandalorian slumped back, unconscious, his armor rattling as his limbs went limp.  He looked like a puppet with his strings cut. 

Gronn had been the person to find Theron on Katalla, which led to Trant using both Theron and Eva for his own means and ends.  Gronn had been Trant’s inside man for the Revanites.

Gronn could have stopped the assassination attempt on Eva. 

Suddenly, a panicked idea surfaced in the SIS agent’s mind:  Trant had used Theron’s intel for the Korriban job to get Gronn for his own use.  …

…he’d set that all in motion, inadvertently. 

A curse in Old High Gamorrese vented into the medbay of Virtue’s Thief.  “The old man is still trying to manipulate the situation.  And he managed to find your village idiot to do it.”

Eva didn’t answer.  She still stood next to Gronn’s bed, empty hypospray in hand.

Now she didn’t look fine.  “Eva?”

“I asked him directly what brought him here.  That wasn’t it.”  A beat.  “He said he needed the Voidhound for a job.  Yeah, that’s true – he just needs me in that capacity for multiple reasons now.”  Her dissatisfaction oozed from the words.  “I guess at this stage of the game – how big I am, how Voidfleet is – I shouldn’t assume someone wants to see me.”  Eva tiredly tossed the hypospray toward the sterilizer, missing this time.  “Even you put up with my bullshit because I’m useful to the op.”

That stirred him.  “No.  Not just that.”  Theron dared to take a step closer to her now.  “I have to see this op through – expose the conspiracy, save the galaxy.  But as I said – dreams and thoughts here, too. I’ve waited months to see you again.  Not just to progress the op.”

Theron ran out of words.  So he just looked at her without the SIS mask of neutrality in place – he looked at her like he wanted to, honestly.  Like he wanted her.

She didn’t reach out to touch him – she knew that was against the rules. A slightly frustrated smile crossed her face.  “You know that this is far more drawn out than it has to be?”

“I don’t want there to be any confusion about who I want and for what reasons.”  He’d said that out on the roof a few nights ago.  He still meant it. 

Theron could see Eva, not the Voidhound, just as Eva could see Theron, not just the SIS agent.  He could see the moment when she had that tiny revelation – and he could have run for days on the high that came with how she looked at him thereafter. 

Theron didn’t remember exactly how they ended the night – what words were exchanged.  He had to get back to the safehouse and his data, she had to hail Mako (whoever she was).  They agreed to deal with the Gronn situation in the morning.

But he remembered the feeling of being seen, and, for once, the spy didn’t mind as he finally made it back to his bed.

Chapter Text

Day 10

Gronn jolted awake and let out a howl and a gasp.  “Goddamn it, Eva.”

Eva had absolutely no compunction about waking up the freeloader in medbay with an ice cold glass of water down his neck, the one place she could access his skin.  The bounty hunter rolled off the medbay bed and stood up, and he regretted it immediately; the ice water slid down inside his armor, right down his back. 

Eva leaned back against one of the cabinets as she watched Gronn twitch and move jerkily as he tried in vain to avoid the cold, wet nuisance that had invaded.  She swore she heard his teeth rattle.

Good.

“Good morning, Gronn,” Eva greeted him in a syrupy sweet voice.

Gronn cursed again; he seemed to know he was in trouble now.   “Can explain, I swear to God.” 

Eva remained unimpressed.  “So I commed Mako.”

“Ah, fuck.”

“She said that you only told her about the Crysta thing too.  You didn’t mention Trant.”  Eva pursed her lips into a thin line.  “By the way, you blew your cover, massively, if you remember.”

Gronn’s helmet tilted.  “I knew who the spook was, by sight,” he replied indignantly, even as he uncontrollably shifted away from the cold that had seeped into his shirt.  “I found him in disguise out on Katalla.  I figured if I found you, he wouldn’t be too far away, if you two were still working together.”  The helmet righted itself and leaned forward slightly.  “He’d be an idiot if he wasn’t trying to work with you.”

Eva brushed off the insinuation.  “You and Trant both seem obscenely invested in the two of us – you want in on the crew’s betting pool?  It’s got more people, so more credits up for grabs.”  Eva pulled away from the cool surface of the cabinet; she wasn’t yet wearing her captain’s coat, and medbay’s temperature was kept slightly lower than the rest of the ship.  “What are you doing mixed up with Trant anyway?” 

“Means to an end,” Gronn answered, and he didn’t seem pleased about it. 

“The man sent his dogs after you for years because of that obsessed Jedi and his pet chancellor.  The hell you doing taking work for him?  Directly from him.” Eva moved around the medbay to force herself into his field of vision; he was avoiding looking right at her.  It wasn’t as if she could see behind the helmet and read his expression, but she had the distinct feeling he wasn’t being honest.

“I could ask the same thing.”

“SIS never came for me – Shariss was my only contact with them, and she’s ok.”

Eva had a lot to be grateful for in regard to Shariss. 

“But Katalla –”

“I had fun.”  Eva saw the armored figure go still and silent for a good thirty seconds, and then she wondered whether Gronn had only been charged with finding Theron rather than continued surveillance.

He’d decided to be a less than fully interactive partner awhile ago.  That would not curb jealousy on his end, but it sure as hell made Eva’s forward path clear.

If the op went well.  That always seemed to be the contingency that lay behind any shy smile or any hopeful looks they exchanged.

“You still went in on this for a paycheck.  So’m I.”  Gronn finally seemed to stop twitching, meaning that the cold water had lost its effect.  “That, and it means you’re safe from Revanites – bunch of whackjobs following a guy who never takes off his mask.”

Eva silently smirked at him, and he made an exasperated noise.  Point taken.

“So beyond making sure I don’t end up too dead and stopping those crazy cultists, what’s your deal? Crysta’s kid?”

Now Gronn started to look at her again.  He could be honest about that, if not his Trant connection.  “She needs your protection.  Apparently, since I’m in the Empire’s back pocket, I’m not scary enough anymore.”

Eva scoffed at that.  “Idiots.”  Gronn hadn’t worked for the Empire since Makeb, and even then, their two crews knew exactly what the score was on the planet. 

“Yeah, really not sorry about you dumping deathsticks and blasters on that planet for shits and giggles, now that it’s all said and done.  I had Mako hack into the security holos, and we spent a week just watching Imps frag each other.  She didn’t approve, but the rest of the crew enjoyed the show.”

Eva raised her brows at Gronn.  “I’m not as queasy as Mako is, but I didn’t watch – I just had to live with the knowledge I’d done it.  So who’s not scared of you anymore?”

Gronn let out a low growl as he tried to remember the name.  Eva was well-aware that Gronn had probably taken one too many shots to the head over the years.  “Kanawyn Syndicate.  Killed Crysta to intimidate Thera.  They want her routes, her clients, her business as a small-time smug.”

The name was floating around in Eva’s brain for some reason.  “They operate here on Rishi?  Are they pirates or just smugs?”

Gronn shrugged.  “Does it make a difference?”

“When I’m running the biggest smuggling fleet in the galaxy, yes, it does,” she answered, and Eva pulled out her datapad to trawl through the digitized quick reference she had.  “Not pirates – they typically don’t go around stealing other people’s goods.  They tend to coerce them –”

“They skinned that one Exchange guy alive,” Gronn offered.

“Don’t tell me that; it’ll make me like them better.”  Eva’s eyes briefly scanned the data file.  “Not pirates, not Voidfleet either.  They’re not under my protection, if you wanted permission.”  Eva read over the rest of the Kanawyn file.  “There’s less than fifty of them, so if you take out a few of their leaders, they’ll probably crumble.  What did Thera do?”

“Huh?”  Gronn let out a confused grunt. 

Eva gestured with her free hand that he should follow her out the door of medbay.  “I’m asking you what she did to get in trouble with them.  People don’t just go around targeting other people’s smug routes out of boredom.  Galaxy is at war – there’s lots of action everywhere.  Why Thera?”

Eva strode up toward the cockpit, and she could hear Gronn’s clank and stuttered footsteps behind her; he checked his gait so he wouldn’t step on her heels as they went.  “I didn’t ask.”

“Should have.  I don’t get between smugs outside of Voidfleet; I don’t need a rep as a busybody.”  Eva chucked her datapad onto the Thief’s dashboard and reached for her captain’s coat that hung off the back of the pilot’s seat. 

Gronn’s helmet rill smacked into the doorway to the cockpit, and he staggered back a step momentarily.  “They killed her mom.  Without Crysta, I wouldn’t be much.  I wouldn’t have met you.”

“Again, are you trying to get me to help the Kanawyn or Thera?”  Eva smirked at Gronn.  The helmet ducked under the doorway properly this time.  “I’m going to have to talk to her.  See what she’s about.  Is she willing to come out of hiding, wherever you’ve stashed her?”

“You can’t just take my word for it?”

“Gronn, you have a very selective memory.  I don’t need to get shot at again –”

“That only happened once.”

“Twice, and Gault still owes Corso from that sabacc game.”

The Voidhound and the Grand Champion’s alter egos stared at each other in the cockpit of Virtue’s Thief.

Then.

“Blizz told me to ask you –”

Eva just shook her head. Gronn and Blizz were equally incorrigible; the Jawa would have been outraged if Gronn hadn’t asked, regardless of the context.   “He needs another gizmo programmed?”

“You’re the best he knows for droids.  This one might actually be useful onboard, for once.”  Gronn leaned back against the storage closet and waited for her to answer. 

Eva sighed.  “Fine, bring the whole bunch of them to the Red Hulls’ warehouse.  I’ll be there after taking care of some business –”

Gronn cut in quickly.  “I have information that can help you get information out of Shae Vizla, Torch.  The leader of the Mandalorians here.”

“The one who was at the sack of Coruscant. You told me last night.”  Eva wondered how much of last night he actually remembered. 

Gronn bobbed his head twice.  “You need to take me to her.  And Theron Shan.”  He brought up a hand to shake a finger at her.  “But not the Sith.  I don’t work with space wizards.”

Eva sighed and gave him a wary look.  “Then I guess you’re coming with me today.  The day job and the night job.” 

Lord, did she deserve caf.

**

From: EC

To: TS

Subject: (no subject)

Tin Head wants to see you only.  Got a spare room?

From: TS

To:  EC

Subject: Re: (no subject)

Yes.  No meeting with the neighbors?

Also:  mutual shark wanted to know where you went.  Coming back tonight since you left early.

Eva’s lips pulled into a smile as she saw Theron’s use of smuggler cant.  She’d used it on him during the Katalla op, and he seemed to understand it with little explanation.  It made her wonder whether he’d always known it or whether he was learning it because of her. 

And she had been a poor host for Jakarro – and D4 - it would be fair to give a redo of last night.

**

From: EC

To: TS

Subject: Re:Re:(no subject)

Tin Head’s issues with your old man were personal.  The neighbors aren't welcome.

Shark and bolts welcome.

Theron absorbed this early morning message.  “Old lady” or “old man” was smug cant for the Republic; the “neighbors” were the Sith. 

Gronn -- the Empire’s most prized hunter, the man who killed the Republic Chancellor – did it for personal reasons, not the patriotic ones that were uploaded into the propaganda blasts that circulated around Corellia and were broadcast to the colonial worlds of both sides. 

Interesting development. 

Theron stepped out of his bedroom and pitched his ears downstairs.  Lana wasn’t down yet.  Good.  He covered the short distance between his door and hers and knocked, politely.

“Yes?”

“I have Pub business to settle with Eva and with another SIS operative… It’s probably better you don’t see them.  It might cause problems for you.”

That wasn’t a lie, exactly. 

Lana didn’t reply immediately then she answered, “Do let me know when they’ve departed, then.”

Satisfied, Theron rambled down the stairs.  Theron wondered what Trant had chosen to convey with this messenger.  He was more than a bit put off by the sudden appearance of Trant’s previously unnamed operative.  That said, the operative was trustworthy (in Trant’s eyes) because he was attached to a key person, not a government.  That person happened to be Eva, based upon the intel from Makeb.

Theron had done the logistics work-up for Makeb.  He hadn’t looked at the during and after-action reports closely; he’d already moved on to the next thing.  Same thing went for his research into candidates for the Korriban raid – once he had fixated on the Voidhound, few things had distracted him from that choice.  After Gronn’s reappearance, he looked at those reports much more closely late last night, especially those that involved the smuggler and the bounty hunter.

They certainly hadn’t had a boring time on Makeb. 

Gronn was the most bizarre Mandalorian Theron had ever heard or seen intel on.  The guy managed to get on Keylander Station – the Pub orbital station – while apparently high off stims and danced on the bar in full armor (which rendered him just over 7 feet tall), trying to provoke security into shooting him.  Meanwhile, Eva was seen downing Reactor Cores with a petite woman not far away, both of them just staring at him and looking pretty miserable with themselves.  Based on intel Theron had collected for the Korriban raid, he recognized the woman as Mako, the Grand Champion’s manager of sorts, for lack of better description. 

There were other incidents – Guss defacing Imp and Pub shuttles with the help of a Jawa, Eva and Corso getting into a ridiculously high stakes sabacc game with a Devaronian and half of the Republic’s speeder pool (both ships were bet at one point, and technically, Theron thought Eva now own them and a few Pub tanks, legally), Risha and Akaavi having a rather loud disagreement over something related to a young man who also appeared to be a Mandalorian.  That was resolved as the young man slunk off to sit with Eva and Gronn, face red as the Imperial flag. 

Of course, review of that information also revealed security holo footage of the crewmembers of Virtue’s Thief stumbling out of various tents in the early hours of the morning.  Risha in particular made a name for herself as she went through an entire planet of newly enlisted –

And Theron didn’t like the implications of that name, if he was going to be honest.

Eva was decidedly more restrained, and Theron couldn’t help but notice that she actually looked back as she left the first few tents.  That didn’t stir jealousy – just made him wonder whether those encounters were the first ones after everything that had happened to her, the first evidence to herself that she could move on to other people. 

A few nights saw her stumbling off the bounty hunter’s ship, but that was different, it seemed – her body language as well as the verbal comments from Risha suggested that she had one association with the Pub military and something different with Gronn. 

They don’t get to see the rest of me.

Comments from her as Metis Vaner rattled around his head as he scarfed down a ration bar for a hasty breakfast and readied for Eva’s arrival with Gronn in tow. 

Theron didn’t have to wait for long – he heard the heavy walk of the man approaching the hideout long before he saw it.  Eva was stealthy; Gronn was not. 

The size difference between Eva and Gronn was almost comedic to see, but Theron held back any commentary.  This was business.  “Eva,” he said, giving her a nod.  “Grand Champion,” he addressed Gronn.

“Gronn’s fine,” the modulated voice replied. 

“You’re Trant’s man?”

“Yes, Mr. Vaner.”

And there was the confirmation – the knowledge of the Katalla fake ID Trant himself had created.  Eva’s eyes bounced between the two men, only stilling once she heard that name.  Gronn was theirs, confirmed.

Theron leaned back against the main computer and pulled out his datapad.  “What intel do you have for me about Shae Vizla?”

Gronn shifted his weigh slightly.  “Some stuff.  Uhm.  You aren’t sore about the whole assassinating the Chancellor thing?”

Theron was very sore about that, but he held his tongue.  He told a different truth.  “You were third on my list for the Korriban raid that started this whole exposé – Eva won the contract though.”

Eva reached up to adjust her bandana.  “Who was number two?”

“One of the top Imp intel agents – Cipher Nine.  Burned both the Pubs and the Imps before disappearing after Corellia.  Imps did him worse though, so I thought he might –”

Gronn scoffed through his modulator, which further mangled the noise.  “That guy is barvy.  I met him. He committed to the Revanites for real after the Imps tried to erase him. He’s nuts, seriously.  Glad you went with Eva.”

And Cipher Nine was Darok’s first choice.  That slid another puzzle piece into place for Theron for Darok’s behavior leading up to the raids.  Not that it mattered now, but still, Theron found it satisfying as the puzzle began to complete itself.  “So am I.  Vizla?”  Theron cut to the chase, promptly. 

Gronn didn’t seem put off by this, or at least Theron couldn’t tell. “Sometime between five and ten years ago, Vizla and her clan came here.  But they also brought with them members of other clans – they agreed with her about something, and they left their clans to go be with hers.  Some married in, others didn’t.  Clan Vizla was still in the bounty hunting business, but they eventually transitioned to being slavers.”

“Divisive enough issue for people who were fine with it to leave their clan,” Eva remarked, quietly. 

Gronn continued.  “They started being go-betweens for the Nova Blades and the locals – smoothing problems over real easy.”

Theron frowned, his brows furrowed.  “The Nova Blades were here for centuries before Clan Vizla showed up.  Why did they suddenly need a middle man?”

“State of business changed in a couple of ways.”  Gronn meandered around the sentence.  That caught Theron’s attention.  Instinctively, his eyes went to Eva.

Eva’s gaze was directed at some indeterminate point on the safehouse floor. At Gronn’s words, she looked up at him and then over at Theron, only to find him staring at her.  “Darmas was the Nova Blades’ silent partner – their ‘in’ for Republic markets.  I ruined that.  It’s why I’m a Red Hull, not the Voidhound here.”

Theron felt more than a few emotions collide inside him as his analytical mind stitched the situation together.  “They lose their planned market expansion and it gets even harder to run slaves to the Republic.  Because of you.” 

Eva nodded, and Theron had the horrible realization of how dangerous this all had been for her on yet another level.

But business for now.  “Times get tough on Rishi.  Clan Vizla keeps the peace.  The Revanites?” Theron directed his attention back to Gronn.

Gronn rambled on, past the difficult part of the narrative. “Revanites started working with the Nova Blades.  They had money, Novas needed a stop-gap for their losses.  Those crazy cultists have been around for ages – you find enclaves of them on Dromund Kaas, out in the woods.”

Theron was well-aware of the devotion to his ancestor.

“Revanites got in touch with the Novas through their slaving routes, because the Revanites are fine with slaves too.  When they came to Rishi, the cultists got issues with public relations, and Clan Vizla tended to make good excuses or at least intimidate people.”

Theron’s frown persisted.  “That association seems to have gone sour over the last few months.  The Mandos were cut loose by the Revanites and Nova Blades.  Do we know why?”

Gronn shook his head.  “It was always volatile.  Things got worse after some guy started running around pretending to be the cult leader, insisting he was the real deal after 300 years.”

“That would do it,” Theron commented flippantly.  He activated a few files on his datapad and ported them to the strategy table.  “Torch – the local nickname for Shae Vizla -- and Clan Vizla control their own island not far from here.  Think you could head over and see what she has to say?”

“For you?  Anything,” Eva let it roll out of her as easily as water.

Theron responded no differently than if she’d given him a “Yes, sir”: a quick nod and the forwarding of the pertinent data.

“I’m going with you,” Gronn interjected. 

Theron looked over at him and said nothing.  That was Eva’s choice. 

“How fast you want it done, Theron?” she asked.  Theron’s attention went back to her, and he could see she now wore her calculating face; he saw it on the Voidhound, but he also saw it on her when she was at a pazaak table.  Math.  Risk.  Reward.  Timing…

“A.S.A.P.”  Then he thought of another situation.  “Akaavi’s still not cleared, is she?”

“She seems to think we’re running on Rishi 20-hour days instead of Coruscant standard 24-hour days in terms of recovery.  She thinks she’s done tomorrow night.”  Eva shook her head.  “She got a nasty round of poison, and combined with other issues…”  Eva trailed off.  “She’s another day out after tomorrow.  Torian is a good kid, but he’s young and Clan Cadera doesn’t have a good reputation…”

That left one Mandalorian available.  Clanless was better than a shamed clan; Theron didn’t know about this Torian kid, but he understood some elements of Mandalorian culture.  The obvious fact it was better not to go alone didn’t need to be said. 

Eva turned to square up with Gronn.  “We deal with Torch today.  We deal with your situation tonight.”

Gronn grunted his agreement.  “Fine.  Give me a minute with the spook.  Trant sent something.  I don’t even know what it is.”

Eva’s face hid nothing of her distaste for Trant, nor her awareness of what Gronn’s usual job was.  “You kill him, I kill you,” she warned Gronn.

Theron would have been touched if his death by Imperial assassin wasn’t so likely, statistically speaking; Technoplague would have been a proverbial feather in anyone’s cap.

“There are some marks worth having alive, if only to piss off other hunters.”  Gronn’s modulator crackled, and Eva gave him one last warning look before she turned to go.

“Stay safe out there, all right?” Theron couldn’t help but call after her.  He saw her right hand go up in a quick farewell, but she never looked back. 

Time for another part of the Revanite puzzle to slot together properly.  Theron shut down not only his datapad but also any other tracker/recorder in the safehouse. Lana might eventually find out about the Grand Champion, but this – this wasn’t for her at all.  “Director Trant sent something?”

Gronn ambled over to him and activated a compartment in his armor.  The hydraulics hissed, and despite the thick armoring around his fingers, the bounty hunter was able to pluck a small datacell out and held it delicately between his forefinger and thumb. 

Theron’s implants went straight to work in analyzing it, making sure it wasn’t a small explosive or a gas pellet.

“I’m too dumb to open it,” Gronn said, bluntly.  “I don’t know what’s on it.  He told me to tell you not to open it until you’re right with at least one of the governments.”

Theron scowled; Trant did not have full confidence that the Republic would be the first to come around to the Revanite conspiracy.  At least the Empire had been dealing with the cult for over a decade; they could and would believe the viability of the threat, if he and Lana lived long enough to present the story.  Whatever was on this cell likely led toward that end. 

Theron extended his palm and Gronn let the small data cell drop in.  It was as it appeared, as far as Theron’s implants could render.  The fact that it didn’t erupt in the palm of his hand was also a good sign.  “Why?”  Theron asked, his eyes on the cell.  “Why me alone?”

In other words, what was Gronn keeping from Eva?  And now in turn, what was Theron expected to keep from Eva?

Gronn stared at him.  Theron couldn’t stare back at the helmet effectively.  There was nothing human to fixate on – no moving eyes, no lips in motion, not even a face that could flush and reveal anger.  The cold, inhumanity of the helmet was unsettling.  The modulated voicebox added to that, deliberately.  “You’re SIS.”

“A spook, as you said.”  Theron was used to the spacer slang.  He did not flinch. 

“You know what SIS did to me?”

“Yes.”  Theron had actually prepped for this conversation, in case the Voidhound rejected his job offer and in case Cipher Nine proved unreachable.  “Trant likely is paying you a lot of money.  But he might have offered you something else.”

“Yeah.”  Gronn’s helmet continued to tilt downward toward Theron.

“Something that the Chancellor couldn’t – or wouldn’t – offer.  Something that would convince you to work with him on … whatever.”

“You’re good.” The helmet tilted sideways.  “That’s why she likes you – you’re clever, like she is.  She likes me because I’m not that bright.  I can’t put one past her.  You  -- she matches wits with you.  Like she did with him.”

A nasty, cold grasp took ahold of Theron’s spine.  “I’m not him.  I’m not the type of agent he was.”

“You better not be.”  Gronn took a step inward –

And then Theron had his right arm angled so that the poison darts in his wrist bracer would go right into the thin, soft covering over Gronn’s neck.  He didn’t hide it under his sleeve, this time.  “I’m still an SIS agent though.  I like my personal space.”  Theron did not move.

Neither did Gronn.

“Why?” Theron asked again.  “What did Trant promise you, besides a paycheck and a chance to play hero for her?”

Gronn’s helmet had not yet moved once.  He seemed to ignore the imminent danger of Theron’s holdout weapon.  But he did answer the question.  “Project 32.”

Theron shook his head.  “Don’t know what that is.”

A low growl came from the helmet.

“Not every agent is read in on every project.  I dealt in sentient and drug trafficking.  Slicing.  Sabotage of Imperial projects, technological and diplomatic.  Unless it falls in there, I’m as clued in as the general public.  Security concerns.”  Theron’s explanation was coolly delivered, a trained calm forced over his hot-blooded instincts. 

Gronn didn’t move. “Mako – you know ‘bout her?”

“That she exists, yes.  That she’s the best way to reach you, yes.  Nothing more.”

“She’s an SIS project.  They made 12 little girls, all identical, all just like her, with those implants in her face.  Lot like yours actually.”  Gronn pointed a thick forefinger at Theron’s face, not close enough to touch but certainly close enough that Theron had to resist the urge to step backwards.  “SIS-issued?”

“Yes.”  Theron’s voice became tight.  He knew SIS had some less-than-ethical projects running around – literally.  Actual cloning?  News to him. 

“Well, SIS made her, then lost her in Nar Shaddaa about twenty years ago.  They keep coming back around to look for her ever since one of those little girls went rogue and killed the rest – except Mako.  They wanna know where they screwed up – so they can try again.”  The helmet shifted its position slightly.  “To create what, I dunno.  Maybe good little SIS agents with no wildcards.” 

Theron stayed as still as he possibly could.  Despite the armor and the helmet obscuring the human face, Gronn was visibly angry. 

“Your SIS – and lot of the people in it -- you’re the type of spooks that keeps little girls awake at night, wondering where her parents are – if she even has parents besides a test tube.  Wondering if once I’m gone, the repo man comes for her.” 

Gronn finally took a large step backwards.  Theron felt his insides twist in that cold grip as he considered that the Republic had pulled off something that the Empire likely had long-desired – if what Gronn was saying was true.

Then again, did Gronn really have the imagination to make this up?  He certainly didn’t have the sense to keep his mouth shut before revealing he was Trant’s man to Theron.

“That’s what Trant promised me.  She’s free.  No more Project 32, no more troubleshooting, no more clones in the service of the Republic.”

“Hope he follows through,” Theron replied, almost as a reflex.  He couldn’t resist. 

This was probably why he got punched while on ops, more often than not.

Theron pressed onward when Gronn didn’t take a swing at him – the audacity may have stunned him just enough to keep Theron’s head attached to his shoulders.  “Trant likes running ops, and he does pay, but he also doesn’t have any issue with a little bit of collateral damage.”

“Little bit of collateral damage” equaled “up to the population of a few planets,” Theron had learned years before.

The helmet didn’t move, its soulless eyes still pointed in Theron’s direction.  “And you?”

“I have issues with collateral damage.  I don’t waste my assets.”

Theron must have had a tell. He must have conveyed something silently somewhere, at some point in the last twelve hours.

Because as simple (not dumb, just simple) as Gronn was, the Mando still said, “You must’ve lost your damn mind when she got shot.  Good.  I did, too.”

Theron froze in place as Gronn finally turned to follow Eva out to the docks. 

It was only when Lana finally sent him a text over the Holonet asking if she could come downstairs that Theron was set back into motion.

Chapter Text

From: EC

To:  Virtue’s Thief; Ash Angel; Spy Guy; Blondie

Subject:  Home late

Speeder had some engine trouble.  Will be late for party. 

**

“Not very welcoming,” Eva had commented as she and Gronn shook the black sand out of their armor. Tracyn Island was not as unoccupied as it had seemed from the shore.

This was promptly made evident by the manicured pathways, the tastefully arranged blooming plant life, and of course the rather large challenger’s arena that they were herded into.  Their first few tests were some of the larger animals on the planet. 

“Torian would have loved this,” Gronn commented as another sample of megafauna bit the dust. 

Eva didn’t comment much throughout the day; this was all leading up to something. 

And indeed, as they finally entered the main hold on Tracyn, the doors closed behind them, and a lone, female figure in full armor awaited them.

On sight, Gronn yelled out, “Shae Vizla!”

He had absolutely no sense of stealth or even keeping his cards close to the vest.  Eva had to control the impulse to facepalm right there.  The urge got stronger as he strutted down the walkway toward the female Mandalorian. 

“You had a falling out with the Revanites and the Nova Blades.  One Mandalorian to another – think you can help me out?  I want them gone – and so’s she,” he hastily added as he realized Eva was giving him a positively poisonous look. 

Vizla had pulled off her helmet at this point to glare at him and assess the other woman.  Eva sized her up as well.  Red head, green eyes, older, but still deadly and capable.  Eva kept herself on guard, hands ready to go to work on jerking her blasters, but she made no hasty moves. 

Eva felt Vizla’s gaze upon her as she tried to identify all the gadgets on her armor – what she had, what she didn’t have.  Every Mandalorian had their own preferred style of combat; some ran traditional with their clans, others deliberately bucked the system to give themselves that special edge. 

Vizla’s eyes lingered on Eva a few moments more before scoffing in Gronn’s general direction.  “I might be off the grid these days, but I’m not thick.  You didn’t think I’d recognize Manda’lor’s favorite champion?  Or for that matter, the Red Hull pirate giving the Nova Blades problems already?”  Vizla shifted her weight as she made an adjustment on her helmet.  “I know your angle, Captain.  Could I help you? Yes.  But will I?  Do I really want to…?”

Vizla gave Gronn another glare.  She couldn’t figure out his angle.  What did he want with a local pirate?  At least that was Eva’s read on it.

Maybe Trant had chosen well after all.  Gronn was a simple man in a complex situation.  He didn’t make sense at all, because what he wanted wasn’t on Rishi anyway.  Eva’s reading of Gronn plus her own gut instinct told her that him being here had something to do with her and Thera, but that wasn’t the entire situation.  If his allies didn’t know his stake, then his enemies had little chance of sorting it out and manipulating it.

Vizla seemed to reach that conclusion.  “Tell you what, instead of whatever grand gesture of cooperation you thought might happen here, why don’t we try something a little different?”

Thanks to Guss, Eva knew of certain holo films that started this way.  One of these days, she was going to fire him for that.  On the other hand, the fact that someone in SIS had had to plow through days of Guss’s pornography collection to crack their coded message never ceased to amuse her, and she did have Guss to thank for that one. 

Fortunately, life did not imitate art (she would have been done with this op if it had), and Gronn started checking his own equipment in anticipation of a fight. “You lookin’ for a scrap?”

“Been a while since I had a decent challenge.  I’m taking this opportunity to show my clan how it’s done,” Vizla readily answered. 

Never get between two Mandos fighting; Eva was at least that smart.  She withdrew quietly from the arena and found a perch not far from the action – but far enough that she wouldn’t be accused of assisting.

Now it was up to Gronn.

**

“Project 32 was a secondary attempt at creating the ideal Republic servant – technologically enhanced, loyal to the State, and far better than any droid.  Clones were the way of the future, according to some.  Many still hold that opinion.”

Theron stared at the grainy holo image of Trant.   “Are you actually going to keep your promise to the Grand Champion?”

“Yes.  The primary attempt worked out just fine, Agent Shan.”  A figure entered Trant’s end of the holo call.

It was him, in the old SIS uniform he’d worn in his early twenties, before his promotion.

A creak in the floorboards behind him caused him to whirl around, blasters drawn.  Theron felt his heart clench up as he stared back at himself as a Jedi – how many years had he dreamed of looking like that—

“There’s usually a defective clone in every batch – they all have the same DNA, but one just goes ‘bad,’” Trant explained from behind.  “We managed to create the ultimate Republic agent – no impulsiveness, creative but never out of line, unshakeable loyalty.  We also made the ultimate Jedi – disciplined, powerful, but firmly committed to the side of the Light, unlike his ancestors.”

“With your parents, success was inevitable.” 

Theron’s left blaster jerked toward the noise, the right still trained on the Jedi.  Theron’s eyes eventually followed his off-hand –

Ngani Zho.  “Your parents were the best of us.  These men are the best in their respective areas.  And then there’s you,” the old Master narrated, in that aloof tone that Theron had heard again and again and again at Haashimut.  “Force-null and headstrong and a risk-taker, now a traitor to the Republic and engaging in behavior not befitting a Jedi Knight – by your own commission and by association.”  Zho shook his head. “But as the Director said – one in every batch.”

“You could have been so much more, Theron.”

“Theron.”

“Theron.”

“Theron, wake up.”

**

Theron’s muscles spasmed in a panic, and he felt himself tilting backwards---

Oh yeah, he’d fallen asleep with his feet kicked up on the strategy table in the safehouse –

His head made contact with the very solid floor, and he cursed. 

When his eyes open, Lana stood over him, peering down curiously.  “Sorry.  Didn’t mean to cause that.  But I did mean to wake you.”

Theron let himself lie there, sprawled, waiting for her to get to her point.  He’d worked to the point of exhaustion, fallen asleep, had a dream that would give a therapist a field day, and then fell off his chair in front of an agent of Sith Intelligence.

Great. 

Lana eventually got the hint and continued.  “Speeder trouble.  Captain Corolastor sent word she would be late.”

That got him up and on his feet.  “When did that come through?”  Theron ran his fingers over his implants to examine the message and its protocol address, see if he could get a geo fix on it. 

“A bit more than an hour ago – I was working, distracted.  I was cc’ed.”  She only hesitated a second before plunging forward.  “As was the Grand Champion – I recognize his ship’s call signal from my own work prior to the dissolution of Sith Intelligence.”

Theron didn’t look at her as he made his way to the main computer.  “No comment.”

“On SIS assets? Of course not.”  Lana made no attempt to keep the irritation out of her voice. 

Theron didn’t take the bait.  “Makeb. You should know better.”  Theron started to run some basic diagnostics on the comm.

Lana huffed.  “I’m well aware of their personal association – the entire planet had some sort of documentation of it.  He works for her, she works for you – is that the chain of command?”

“Sure.”  That was one way to interpret Gronn’s presence here, if one wanted to.   “If you were going out tonight for the redo with Jakarro and D4, you would have seen him anyway.”  That was true, as far as Theron knew; he planned on staying in, for once.  He didn’t yet look up from his work.

“Have they gone to meet with Torch, the leader of the Mandalorians here?” Lana’s accent seemed to become more clipped, crisp, and precise the more agitated she got about being left out of the circle.

“They’re trying to.  Judging from what happened to their speeder, success is not guaranteed.”  That was also an honest assessment.  Out of the corner of his eye, Theron tracked Lana’s movements. She was not pleased in the least.  “Gronn being here is not ‘need to know’ information for you – or your superiors.  It has the potential to make trouble on your end.”

That seemed to strike the mark for Lana. “They made a great deal of publicity out of his loyalty to the Empire after assassinating your chancellor.  Him being a traitor like us –”

“I was thinking about him being at the beck and call of the Voidhound.”  Now Theron tore his attention away from the computer and gave Lana a little insight.  “Given how she got her current position and her recent activities as they pertain to the Empire, no one in your chain of command wants to hear that their propaganda is about to be debunked.  And if they ever affiliate her with SIS, then everything the Grand Champion did might be called into question.”

The bizarre, illogical instance of Gronn working with Trant willingly within itself was useful fodder for Theron when it came to Imp operations.  Theron also hadn’t forgotten that the Voidwolf had been an Imperial Grand Admiral, as much as some on the other side of the galactic conflict wanted to; Kirill had been of low birth, a slaver, and demographically unsuitable, but not even the Sith Empire could deny his skill.  Now, they couldn’t deny the Voidhound some acknowledgement of her skill between the past and present.  A neutral party that leaned Republic – just a bit of a lean – attracting an Imperial hero like that –

Lana’s cogs had already started to whirr away, and she was sharp enough to get the point.  “Everything looks like a set up for him to be an Imperial hero.  The more disaffected may wonder whether he was working for SIS all along.” 

Theron thought it would be overkill to drop in the idea that conspiracy theorists could connect the rise of the warhawk Saresh with Gronn’s actions and then the subsequence Republic strikes against the Empire, so he didn’t.  But that was something to file away for later, should the opportunity arise on his end. 

Instead, he said to Lana, “My advice?  Enjoy dinner with the Captain of the Red Hulls and her old friends.  Nobody needs to know who they really are.”

Lana gave him a nod, but he could tell something was brewing in her head. 

Something to watch, he supposed, before he turned back to monitoring the comm signal from Tracyn Island. 

**

For all of his shortcomings, Gronn was still worthy of his title.  Eva had to hold back a cheer as Vizla peeled herself off the floor, hand raised to indicate Gronn should hold his fire.

She had yielded.

Eva began to descend from her seat back down into the arena.  She could hear Vizla speaking to Gronn through her helmet’s modulator. “Little rustier than I’d like to admit – but just a little.  Felt good to be in a real scrap for once.”  She tugged off her helmet and shook out her hair. 

“I can still see the Mandalorian who helped lay Coruscant to ruin,” Gronn offered in return.

Vizla’s mouth hitched up on one side, and Eva couldn’t read that expression fully – it came and went so quickly.  “I’d say you’ve earned a bit of intel for that performance. You were asking about the Revanites, right?”

Gronn nodded, then gestured to Eva.  “Answer her questions.”

Eva stepped forward.  “How you’d get tangled up with them?”

“We helped the Blades have a good relationship with Raider’s Cove.  We hooked the Revanites up with the Nova Blades.  Even helped them win a scrap or two.” Vizla began to fiddle with her helmet again.  Nervous? Uncomfortable.  Guilty?  Eva had decent people-reading skills (decent enough to be a galactic pazaak champion), and Shae Vizla was throwing all sorts of tells in different directions.  She felt conflicted.  “Once they started the secret-manipulating-all-out-war nonsense, I pulled us out. I’ve had my fill of war.”

“Manipulation.  They’re trying to provoke a war with the Republic and the Empire?” Eva repeated back to Vizla as if trying to confirm her understanding.  She nodded.

…Unless Eva was misunderstanding, she was missing something.  It had always been obvious that the Revanites were working against both governments’ interests.  They were at war, covert though it was.  Vizla was simply saying the obvious. 

Gronn cut in.  “I thought war and fighting were your life, Vizla.”

Vizla fixed Gronn with such a hard look that Eva could see the years appear on her face; Gronn was a dumb young thing in comparison to her, and he should know it, based on that expression.  “Fighting, yes.  War...  I guess it depends who you ask. I think it’s boring.”

Gronn cocked his head, silently asking for more.

“You spend most of your time waiting around between battles, and when they finally happen, it’s just a bunch of random killing.”  Her lips frowned and her brow creased.  “I prefer my fights sporting.  Or at least interesting. My role in Coruscant was more… refined.  We weren’t just bodies on the field.”  She seemed to linger on the memory now 25 years past before returning her sharp eyes to Eva.

“And the Revanites don’t see it that way.”

“Nope.  They stack the deck as much as they can.”  Vizla winced as if tasting something suddenly sour in her mouth.  Then she lowered her voice to speak to Eva.  “I do know they’ve got a whole fleet of warships tucked away somewhere on this planet.”

Eva opened her mouth to speak, but Vizla cut her off. “They never gave me any real details or coordinates.  They just told me they were here for the next phase.  Whatever that is.”

Vizla stepped back, and Eva saw her put on an air of nonchalance.  “If you want to find them and smash them up, more power to you.  I liked this place a lot better before they showed up.”

“If I asked—”

Vizla’s rejection was without hesitation. “No.  We’re not for hire, we’re not Imperial lackeys” – she directed that straight at Gronn – “and we’re not getting involved.”  And yet, Eva could tell a good part of her indifference was staged.  The rest of the galaxy beyond Rishi didn’t matter to her anymore.  Hell, she was retired – why should it? 

Yeah, how many times had Eva thought about retiring with that same logic?  But she always got reeled back in – she always wanted a piece of the action, the next adventure. 

“Then I think we’re done here,” Eva said evenly. 

Vizla gave her another once over, as if sensing there was something more to this pirate…but she couldn’t place it.  She gave her two visitors a curt nod and gestured toward the now-open doors to the outside. Then she quickly took her leave of them, using her jetpack to head to parts unknown. 

“That help?”  Gronn asked.

Eva considered the question.  “Both more and less than I think.”

Gronn’s modulator rasped.  “You smugs never give straight answers.”

“Ask me a question where I know the answer, and I’ll give it to you straight.  Probably,” she amended slightly.  “But an armada on this planet…I can see how they built it, with their Revanite-funded ships and technology.  But why Rishi, of all places?”

Gronn started to head toward the door. “Maybe it’s just ignored enough by the Republic and the Imps.”

Eva fell into step with him.  “Simple enough answer, and maybe that’s it.  You hear anything from Trant about the Revanites and their flow of credits?  Anything about the Hutt Cartel?”

The bounty hunter guffawed at that.  “I’m an errand boy to him.  I gave Shan something – don’t even know what.  He trusts me because he knows I know who you are – and I haven’t cashed in.”

“That is simple.”  Too simple, Eva privately thought.  “But you have other lines of business.  You bringing Thera tonight?”

“Yeah. Rest of the crew fine?” 

“As long as they don’t start anything I have to finish…”

**

Day 10, Night

Corso looked up as Risha approached the warehouse door.  “She’s back.  No issue that I can see.”

He exhaled through his nose.  “That’s… good, I suppose. He’s still coming?”

“We can’t win them all,” she replied.  Risha pursed her lips and with a slight shake of her head in disgust,  she went inside.   

A few steps behind her was Akaavi. She looked no worse for wear, but she was pissed that she’d been benched in favor of ol’ Gronn.  Corso had to give it to Eva she was technically correct about the number of hours that Akaavi was supposed to be off active duty.

Woman was braver than he was, though; he wasn’t going to tell that Mando what to do, nope. 

“How’d it go?” Corso asked Akaavi.

Akaavi made a gesture with her hand to indicate ‘so-so.’  “Some things, we already knew.  Others are disturbing.  There is a Revanite fleet here on Rishi.  For what purpose, we don’t know.”

Corso blinked a few times before leaning against the warehouse door with his arm. “Isn’t that obvious?  They’re making war with the Republic and the Imps.”

“But why here, Corso?” Akaavi asked, rhetorically.  “There are more secure locations closer to the Core planets, if they really wanted to make chaos in the war.  I believe the Captain is right that there is something more here that we are yet to see.”  Then Akaavi scowled.  “We’ve yet to convey that to the employer.”

Corso offered a shrug.  “Can’t dismantle a fleet in a night, especially if they aren’t even off the ground yet.  She’ll do it tomorrow.”

Akaavi’s demeanor didn’t improve as she went inside.  She wasn’t wrong that Eva was taking her dear sweet time in getting back to the spies.  For some reason, she’d prioritized Gronn and whatever circus he was roping her into this time. 

As Corso finished opening up the warehouse for nightlife, he ran though a mental checklist for the night.   

Jakarro and D4 – here and impatient for the party to start, finally.  It had been delayed yesterday due to Gronn’s arrival.

Ugh.  Corso hated that guy.  Always mixed up with multiple girls and leading them in all different directions.  Corso knew he had the opposite problem, but at least it left fewer casualties and hurt feelings (namely, him). 

Lana the Sith was here.  Corso knew it was a little rude just to judge a person based upon their Force abilities and their beliefs about it, but he also was a true Republic citizen.  He fought separatists trying to steal planets out from under other citizens.  What really confused him was Bowdaar’s soft spot for her, even after that whole scene at the Wolf’s Den.  Corso might have been wedged into a jukebox at the time, but he still saw the whole thing.  It was one thing for Eva to be flirting with the right side of the law for once – this was a whole ‘nother bantha wrangle. 

Agent Shan – Theron – wasn’t going to be here tonight.  There was a part of Corso that was pleased he was staying away for once, but that was counterbalanced by the part of him that rather have him around if Gronn was around.  Theron didn’t cause trouble or hook Eva up with trouble – whether it was troubled people or drug trouble, Gronn always seemed to have a bit of both following him around. 

Tonight was no different – he had some small-time smuggler who’d crossed someone bigger in the pond.  Now Gronn was bringing her here to see what Eva could do.

…Corso had to admit that’s what he’d tried to do all those years ago, but boy did that backfire.  And if there’d been another option like Eva was now, the story would probably have been different.  Corso reckoned he couldn’t hate Gronn for this.

In regard to that one issue.  Just that one. 

Corso checked his chrono.  Time to deputize one of the newer Red Hulls to collect the cover charge…

Corso was getting his damn money back from Gault, one way or another.

**

Not long after the night began, Corso found himself in a back room with Risha as Eva sat herself down at a table to wait for Gronn and his damsel in distress.  Well, Eva sat; the Voidhound waited.  Corso felt slightly reassured that an impulsive decision wouldn’t be made when that thing was on watch.

Corso had briefly seen Torian come in to case the joint before greeting Akaavi as Mandos do.  He hadn’t seen that Jawa yet, but he’d told Guss to keep an eye on anything small and shiny.  Wouldn’t do to have all that disappearing. 

They heard Gronn before they saw him, his armor heavy on the old floors of the warehouse.  With him came Mako and Gault and someone Corso didn’t know – Thera the smuggler, Corso assumed. 

Gault seemed at ease with the entire situation, and he lifted his chin toward Risha in acknowledgement.  Gault was old as hell and remembered the heyday of Nok Drayen.  He gave the princess her due, and Risha returned the gesture.

Smugglers typically didn’t make it to their 40s, let alone their 60s like old Gault had. 

Mako wasn’t comfortable with this situation at all, if Corso was reading her right.  She didn’t want to be here.  He knew there were some old wounds between her and Eva, but he’d thought they were mostly resolved – they both lost. 

Gronn stooped down to enter the room, then plopped himself down in the chair opposite Eva.  “I brought you Thera.”  He stuck his thumb out in the direction of the young woman, who looked as nervous as she was young. 

Eva played it cool with a nod and an implicit refusal to look directly at Thera right away.  “So.  The Kanawyn syndicate.  You have a problem with them.”

Thera looked at Gronn, then realized the question was directed at her, even if the eye contact wasn’t.  “My mother, Crysta, protected my business from the Kanawyn Syndicate  - thugs dealing in weapons and spice.”

“You deal in the same,” Eva remarked.

Thera leaned slightly on one side more than the other, hands grasping at her jacket. “They killed my mother.”

“What were you doing that required protection in the first place?”  Eva asked, still staring at Gronn.  Corso caught Mako sneaking a look at Thera; she had a good heart, but she had the tendency to be suckered into sob stories.

If anyone had told Gronn to help Thera, it was Mako. 

Thera became indignant.  “You can look at me when I talk.  I ain’t a child, just someone who lost her mother.”  Thera dared to plant a hand on the table and lean in on Eva.  “You’re not that much older than me, if you are at all.”

Eva let her head leisurely roll around to face Thera.  There was no sudden snap, no jerky movement.  Risha liked this part; Corso didn’t.  The flat, shark-like eyes of the Voidhound stared at Thera dispassionately, and their iciness made her lurch back from the table. Corso always feld that the Voidhound persona had something…inhuman or unnatural about it.  Risha liked it for that reason, as it kept people at a distance.  In an equally flat tone, the question was repeated.  “I’m looking now.  What were you doing?”

Thera swallowed hard and tried to regain her wits as she realized that “this old friend” of Gronn’s was a little bit more than the guise suggested.  “They- they’d been after me for months.  They want my routes, my customers.  Crysta and Gronn’s reputations made them keep their distance…”

“What was so terrific about your customers, your routes?” Eva demanded.

Thera didn’t answer, not seeming to comprehend the question. 

Eva gave a shake of her head, dissatisfied.  “Go on.  What happened here on Rishi?”

Thera took a breath.  “A few weeks ago, they started harassing me again.  Crysta showed up…”  She hesitated.

Cap’s got her pinned, Corso thought.  That stop, that reluctance – bad sign. 

And Eva knew it.  She sat there, staring with those flat eyes, and Thera squirmed.  “I-I mentioned the Grand Champion’s name.  They said they wouldn’t buy it this time.  They said mom was washed up.  They said he’s an Imperial now – he won’t do an underworld job.”

“And they killed your mother?” The question was asked without emotion.

“Yeah.  But I still got money.  Gronn told me you were running this planet, and I’d have to talk to you first before I set a bounty on the Kanawyns’ heads.  I’m doing that now.  I even done my own research and got a list of their hideouts.”

Corso saw an eyebrow twitch.  Something was bothering Eva.  She was onto something. 

Gronn finally spoke.  “Told her to keep the credits.  I owed Crysta a lot.  Least I could do for her kid is keep her safe.”  Gronn turned to look at Thera, who immediately turned her attention toward him – something marginally more comforting than the Voidhound’s gaze.  “I’m thinking you’ve picked up this isn’t just some small-timer.”

Thera nodded her head vigorously. 

Eva’s head tilted, and from Thera’s standpoint, it would seem to be a disturbing angle; Eva had once showed Corso it was all about the angle of her shoulders and her coat, not her neck.  Corso did like that element of the show.  “Awful lot of lust for a few small-time smuggler routes.  And it’s a very big galaxy with a rather nice galactic war ongoing.”  She paused.  “How’d you screw them over?  Lost a shipment?”

Thera’s expression faltered, and Eva watched.  Corso saw Gault finally move.  He had silently leaned himself up against the corner of the room and watched the proceedings like a tennis match.  Now he started to peer in on the proceedings.

Honestly, Corso did like this part – reminded him of all the reads she did at the pazaak table.  She corrected herself.  “No, you didn’t lose; you didn’t have permission in the first place.  You delivered something –”

“—that I shouldn’t have in their territory.  I know.  I should have checked.  But the credits I was offered –”  Thera burst out, slightly panicked. 

Mako sighed and cast a pleading look over at Gronn.  Gault sighed; of course they’d get suckered in.

Eva looked over at Risha, who met her gaze with interest.  “You know, a common insult in the smuggling world is that we’d sell our mothers out for a Calamari flan or whatever the local cheap currency is.”  Then her head ratcheted back to leer at Thera.  “How much was that?”

Thera blanched.

Risha laughed. 

Gault let out a low whistle before shaking his head and letting that crooked smile show through. 

Corso disapproved, and Mako did as well.

Gronn didn’t like it either.  His chair’s legs screeched across the floor as he stood up to his full height in that small room.  “I brought her here so you –”

Eva stood as well, and by golly, she might have had nothing on him in terms of height, but in terms of what she projected – she was a giant.  “You brought her here to me so I could protect her in the future.  I don’t need her making trouble like this in Voidfleet.  She’s learned an ugly lesson – I want to make sure it sticks.” 

The Voidhound and the Grand Champion engaged in a staring match.  Corso was able to sneak a look over at Risha.  She was entertained, he supposed.  She liked it when Eva flexed some of the ruthless muscle she had. 

Some sort of silent resolution was found between Eva and Gronn, and she asked Thera, directly, “What would you do for me?  What do you have to offer?” 

Thera ran a nervous tongue over chapped lips.  “I sold everything except the business to pay him.”

Eva shook her head.  “I don’t need credits.  What do you have to offer me?”

Thera looked a little lost and turned to Gronn.

Smugs seemed to get younger and greener every year, in Corso’s view. 

“Do you have any pull there anymore?” she asked. “Priority access, clearance codes, anything?”

“Where?"  Gronn asked.

Thera shrugged then offered hopefully, “Dromund Kaas?”  She turned back to look at Eva.  “That’d be a new market for you, wouldn’t it?  Something you don’t have a firm hold on yet?”

“Well, we did, but we had a rather high stakes venture go well for us…”   Risha’s lips quirked slightly at the fond memory.

Thera turned back to Gronn, too eager to please.  “I need the Dromund Kaas market.  Please.  You’re not in their back pocket, but you do have a lot of weight to swing around.”

Gronn stood, frozen in place for a few minutes.  Corso could almost smell the wood burning in that head of his, trying to work a solution quickly. 

Thera was persistent.  “I’ll cut you in.  You’ll get paid for this job for the rest of your life.”

Gault cleared his throat, pointedly, at this point.  That was an enthusiastic yes.  Mako stood there staring at Gronn, waiting for him to make his choice. 

Finally, the modulator spat out a few words.  “Not a bad proposal.  All right.”

Mako’s eyes opened wide, and she immediately objected. “What?”

Thera kept her focus on Gronn.  “Is she going to be a problem?”

“No.”  The answer came quickly, and Mako’s temper was visibly rising. 

Thera turned back to face Eva.  “That enough to join Voidfleet, boss?”

Eva dipped her chin down once.  “No slaves.”

Thera tried to object, “That’s like tying my hands behind my back –”

“My rules.  Take it or leave it,” came the sharp reprimand. 

Thera slowly nodded.

“Spice?  Fine.  Blasters?  Always make the drop on time,” Eva ordered her, with experience behind the words. “I got some free people that need transportation to Voidfleet; you’re going to help with that and report to Rogun the Butcher – you know that name.”  Eva saw the recognition flicker in Thera’s eyes, as well as a healthy dose of fear.  Good.  “Stay alive long enough to keep your promises.  Make sure you learn something from this – Gronn isn’t always around to play hero.”  Eva paused a moment in order to fix Thera with a heavy, pointed stare. 

Thera nodded, and Corso hoped that this kid was going to get her act together.

A quick gesture from Eva, and Corso opened the door for her.  The younger smuggler scurried out, saying, “I promise, I’m a good partner!”  She made it a few steps down the hall before scrambling back in to say to Gronn, “Thank you – not just for business, but for Crysta too.” 

The helmet bobbed up and down once, slowly, and then Thera Markon was back out the door. 

The second the door closed, Mako was right in Gronn’s face.  Corso had thought of how small Eva was compared to the persona she projected; Mako was an AT-AT in that regard. “Will you sell out anyone, or just the Empire?”

The argument was old and tired, even as it emerged from Gronn’s mouth.  “We’ve put up with a lot from the Sith and their military already.  We’re not breaking any promises to them – haven’t since Makeb.  What do you care about the Empire?”

Mako frowned.  “I don’t.  It’s just… we’re not criminals.”  Mako paused long enough to look over at Eva and Risha.  “We are bounty hunters.”  Mako insistently kept staring up into Gronn’s helmet.  “We’re supposed to enforce the law – our law – not break it on purpose.”

“Bounty hunting is a complicated profession,” Eva said from her position on the other side of the table.  She had not moved since Thera’s plea and then departure.  “Especially with cross-factional targets.  You do exist in a grey area, Mako.”

“Well, now we do.  Now that we’re tangled in your business.”  Just as they saw Gronn as a bad influence on Eva, Mako saw Eva as a bad influence on Gronn. 

Corso had to object to that, however.  “Listen, y’all hauled off and killed a Jedi long before we crossed paths.  That’s what started this mess, didn’t it?  You killed a citizen of the Republic – murder ain’t legal on our side of the galaxy.” 

“The bounty went through the regular channels,” Mako replied sharply. “He was the final kill on the Great Hunt.”

“You didn’t kill a criminal; you killed a war hero,” Corso countered.

“Funny how the Empire sees it the other way around,” Gault dryly observed.  He was bored, now that business was done.  “Anyway.  Always a joy to see you at work, Captain.”  He tipped an imaginary cap to Eva.

Eva smirked.  “We all know what you did to your last smuggler girlfriend; don’t waste the flattery on me.”

Gault straightened up and rolled his shoulders.  “Buy you and Risha a drink then?  I’d offer a meal, but the cover charge here is steep.” 

Eva kept a magnificent pazaak face, in Corso’s opinion.  “Sure.”

Mako was the first to leave the room, hastily.  Gronn sighed.  “Oh, come on, Mako,” Corso heard him say as he started to follow her out the door.  He stalled for a moment to speak to Eva.  “Kanawyns are a go?”

“I told you before, they aren’t with Voidfleet – you do what you want…”  She trailed off.  “One thing.  When you go find them, can you slice their computers for me?  Just a dump of everything they got on there, minus games and porn; my people will sort through it.”

Gronn nodded, helmet bouncing up and down, and then he was out the door, chasing down Mako. 

Gault let himself visibly twitch for the benefit of his audience in the room before pursuing them. 

Risha turned to Eva.  “You know she might end up being a smear on some floor on Hutta – she’s queen alecake.”

Eva was clawing her way out of her Voidhound persona – she hadn’t gone too deep tonight.  “She got her mother killed, Risha; there aren’t many more opportunities that get ideas through people’s heads like that.” Eva reached up to adjust her bandana and to keep her hair out of her face. “Dinner’s calling.”  Then she looked over at Corso.  “A cover charge?”

Corso turned his palms upward.  “Gault doesn’t owe me anything anymore.”

Now Eva laughed, and Corso would always hold it was one of the best sounds in the universe to him.  “I’ve been such a bad influence on you.”

Chapter Text

Day 11

Theron checked the chrono.  Theron had zero intent of waking Lana for any 0900 meeting.  According to T3, she had indeed had a good night; the stairs to her room had proven a challenge.  By 1000, Eva had sent word she was on the way, and Theron heard T3 unlock the hideout door in anticipation of her arrival.  Jakarro, per D4 was still alive; whether he could manage to scrape himself off of his cargo bay floor was another question. 

Indeed, a good night had been had.

Theron had made progress on his data, so he counted that as a good night for himself.

That wasn’t as comforting as it usually was when he skipped office parties. 

Eva strolled in fashionably late.  Her light footsteps and their gait were becoming a sound Theron could pick out easily from the normal background noise in the safehouse.  “You’re starting out the morning well – waylaying a former Hutt Cartel operative and a member of Imperial Intelligence,” Theron greeted her without looking up.

“And I did it all without a weapon.”  Theron looked up to see Eva stretch her arms behind her head.  Then she hid a yawn.  “Word to the wise, Bowdaar personally has a hangover that would kill smaller sentients.  I don’t even want to know what that’s doing to Lana right now.”

Theron felt his eyebrows climb up his forehead.  “Lana got into a drinking contest with the Wookiees?”

“No, all three of them went up against Akaavi; woman has a hollow leg.  She doesn’t take it out for a stroll too often, but when she does – ”  Eva shook her head.  “Let’s say I don’t drink or bet against her.  She did it to mark her territory, what with Gronn and Torian around.” 

“Were there any survivors?” Theron asked, initially rhetorically.

“That’s what I’m here to talk to you about – I had a side-job last night.”  Theron saw Eva’s eyes dart up to the security holos, as if checking for someone.

Theron put down his datapad and leaned on the edge of the main console.  “I intercepted some transmissions about some smugglers getting spaced last night.  I take it that was Gronn’s work?” 

Eva mirrored his stance and his position within arms’ length of him.  “Plausible deniability.  Let’s say he came to see me, then went out to run errands, then came back in time to watch some livers get abused.  Including his own.” 

Theron nodded.

“Did you also get that some, um, sensitive information was disappearing from certain locations?” Eva asked, delicately dancing around the issue.

“I did.”

“Let’s say Gronn’s best slicer and I have had a series of fallings out, so we went with his number two – who is still pretty damn good, but I have to preface that by saying he’s just… quirky?”  Eva gave him a most charming smile, which was a prime signal that some little bit of chaos was going to happen.

Theron braced himself.  “Quirky like -- ?”

“More sticky-fingered than Guss, more fixated on small arms than Corso, and more prone to wonderfully bad ideas than I am,” Eva replied all too cheerfully. 

Theron closed his eyes and let one side of his mouth tick upward.  “I’m guessing your asset is just outside the door and out of view of the security holos?” 

Eva nodded.  “You might want to secure anything you don’t want walking…it’s a Jawa.”

Both of them were drawn to the sudden spat of movement from A7 and T3.  The two droids, at the sound of Eva’s words, immediately took themselves to the far side of the room and, with four loud clanking noises, they secured themselves to the floor. 

“That’s a little specist, don’t you think?” Theron said mildly, while also trying to contain his humor at the droids’ own responses.

Eva shook her head.  “No, he’s a great guy, but he’s a true scrounger at heart.  He doesn’t mean any harm, and if you ask him, he’ll give it back – not without some disappointment and some attempt to guilt you into giving him some sort of compensation for said disappointment.” 

Theron stared at Eva for a moment.  “And you want to bring him into a secured safehouse?”

She gave him another one of those winning, hopeful smiles. “I may have promised him I’d use your mainframe to do some programming  in exchange for some of that sensitive data he so helpfully found for us last night.”

“Why don’t you do that on the Thief?” Theron asked.

“Too much stuff he can steal and far too many places for him to hide on board,” Eva replied matter-of-factly.  “At least here we can keep an eye on him.  And he does have information you’re going to want to see.” 

God, smugglers.  Theron rubbed at his face with a hand.  He needed more caf.  “Bring him in.”

A series of clicks emanated from the side of the room with the astromech droids, and they folded their optical sensors into their respective chassis.

Eva swiftly walked to the front door of the safehouse, just out of Theron’s line of sight, and spoke a few words to her ‘operative.’  He waited patiently for Eva to reappear alongside, as promised, a Jawa.  “Agent Shan, this is Blizz.  Blizz, this is Agent Shan, who frowns upon people taking things without explicitly asking.”

“Blizz knows Republic Spook when Blizz sees one,” was the translation rendered by Theron’s implants.  “Blizz has information Boss collected for Lady Boss.  Very messy, but good party after.”  Blizz stood toe-to-toe with Theron and stared up at him.  The yellow eyes glowed as Theron saw him glancing around, trying to get a good visual on the astromechs, who were cowering just out of his line of sight. 

“She told me.  She’s going to use my computer to help you – she is, not you,” Theron emphasized as he saw the Jawa’s sleeve extend toward one of the panels of the mainframe.  The limb returned to the Jawa’s side.  “Eva, go ahead and start running whatever.  Blizz, can I see what you found last night?”

Blizz made an untranslatable noise and immediately walked over to the strategy table.  He offered Theron a data disc and gestured for him to run it through the system.  “Blizz found data on computers.  Blizz is great slicer, but some data bad.  Lady Boss had list of hideouts for Kanawyn Syndicate – little baddies.”

Theron silently ran a quick virus scan on the disc before letting the computer fully access it.  Soon, a map with annotated markers appeared on the multi-dimensional screen.  Blizz continued to chatter.  “Little baddies work with Nova Blades – big baddies here.  Lady Boss says Republic Spook is looking for big baddies’ friends – weirdos.  Revanites?”  Blizz struggled over the word; he knew what it meant but going from Jawa to Galactic Standard wasn’t an easy task, pronunciation-wise. 

Theron stared at the data on the screen, then turned to Eva for clarification.  True to her word, she was working on some sort of long-form programming for a droid Blizz had apparently constructed.  “You found a list of safehouses?”

Eva nodded, the glare of the screen on her face making that one scar particularly noticeable.  “Gronn was hired to take care of some problems.  I told him to get me data they had – just a hunch on my end, given they were dealing in slaves on this planet too.  Paid off – they’re in bed with the Novas and by association the Revanites.”  She squinted at the code on the screen then made a sour face.  “Blizz, what are you trying to do with this ‘idle process’?”

“Blizz wants organic movement – what creature would do if just there.  Small motion less noticeable than frozen,” he said.

“Are you going to make it look ‘organic’?” Eva’s expression continued to stand on the edge of disgust.  “If you kill and skin something, don’t you dare bring it around my ship.”

“Hmm, maybe later.  Right now, Blizz wants it to move like organic so baddies think it’s small animal, not droid.” 

Eva relaxed slightly but her brow creased as she stared at the programming.  “Ok, I get it.”  Eva went back to her promised task as she picked up the conversation with Theron again.  “Anyway, the safehouses.  If you’re looking to speed along your decoding of the information off the Aggressor, this is it.  Knowing low-level flunkies, they never keep things as secure as they should.  And just finding these places maybe some more insight as to the reach they have on this planet.”

Theron wanted to kiss her for that alone.  Well, maybe not that alone, but this was completely professional justification for that impulse.  “That’ll speed things up.  Good.”    

Just then, her comm unit buzzed.  Eva looked down and made a face.  “Nobody else should be up,” she murmured.  She took the hail.  “Talk to me.”

“We got détente, Captain,” said Guss over the line.

Eva straightened up and looked straight ahead at the screen, unseeing.  “How’d that come about?”

“Gronn’s side project scared the right people.  That, combined with the new sex workers’ union, means that most of the planet’s organized crime wants in with the Red Hulls.”

Theron made it a point to divide his attention between Eva and Blizz.  The Jawa seemed to be listening to the conversation at least as much as he was – not inclined toward grabbing anything.

Eva made a fist and gave it a small pump.  “That the morning gossip?” 

“That was the last thing I heard last night before I stumbled up into the ship; we got a few comms this morning making it formal.”  Guss cleared his throat.  “And Rishi folks have their own qualifications of formalization.”

“That means?”

“They want to meet with you.  Tomorrow night.” 

“Oh?”

“The Blaster’s Path is having an open night. Dancers, singers, whatever – they come and compete for favor and credits.  There are a few locals that want to meet you there.” 

“Ooh, more party,” Blizz commented. 

Eva digested this.  “Any of them known to be Nova Blades?”

“Nope,” Guss replied.  “It looks like we’ve made enough of a nuisance of ourselves that the other gangs are giving in and want to know what protection you can give ‘em.”

“And with everyone else on board, the planet is ours.”   Eva stepped back from the computer to look over at Blizz, then at Theron as she spoke to Guss.  “I’m going to make the bold prediction that someone will try to get me out of the way before tomorrow night.”

“You’ve got the planet talking, Captain.  They’re going to be looking for you,” Guss affirmed. 

“Then we strike back under the guise of the gang war – the Red Hulls and the crew of Virtue’s Thief.  Still need to tread carefully,” she mused. 

“Blizz thinks Ash Angel crew will help.  Maybe not Mako,” Blizz offered.

“You talk to Gronn about that, before you commit yourself – I don’t know what his plan is beyond what we already did,” Eva told him. 

Theron rapidly started to think through a plan.  “While you’re acting as a massive distraction to the gangs of Rishi, Lana, Jakarro, and I could feasibly break into these safehouses and see if we can find a Revanite nest.”

Eva turned to Theron.  “You think they’d be game to go crashing in like this?”

“Do you have any intel to suggest it wouldn’t be worth it?”

“Yes.  Especially after last night,” came a very weak voice from the door. 

Lana looked like death warmed over.  She hadn’t bothered to fully put herself together for the day yet; covered neck to knee, Lana only had one layer on composed of shirt and trousers, rather than the usual three or four layers of robes. 

“Oh.  You’re alive,” Eva observed with a good measure of respect. 

Lana nodded, very gingerly, as if too much movement would cause her head to fall off and roll away.  “I am surprised as well.”

“Did yourself proud.  The key is not to end up on an IV in medbay.  Good work,” Eva congratulated her.  “How much you hear?”

Lana sat herself down in a chair before answering.  “Something about safehouses.”

Theron heard the computer beep, and he put through a series of commands that neatly interlinked the intel from the Kanawyn Syndicate with what they had sliced out of the Aggressor. “Eva’s friends found a list of safehouses for a minor gang…which happens to be allied with the Nova Blades.”

Lana straightened up in her seat, slightly.  “Anything on the Revanites?”

Theron cast an eye at the data through his implants. “Not explicitly yet.  But if we start checking out these safehouses, we might find a few people or things left behind.”  He focused back in on the room and looked over at Eva.  “The Captain has some big cantina thing tomorrow night that she’s expected to attend.  We can probably start tomorrow, cover as much as we can at night while she draws all the wrong sort of attention.”

“And if I draw enough wrong attention, the safehouses may be unoccupied or at least understaffed for the foreseeable future.”  Eva turned back to the programming she was doing for Blizz.  “You want to tell me why I need to install a self-destruct sequence?” she asked her companion.

“No trace if caught.  Blizz thinks of everything.”  The Jawa moved back to stand next to Eva, neck craning to see the screen she was working on. 

Lana blinked.  “There’s a Jawa in the safehouse.”

Theron paused for a moment before confirming, “Yes. Yes, there is.”

Lana absorbed this information.  “Is Jakarro alive?”

“From what D4 said from underneath the collapsed Wookiee, yes,” Theron confirmed.

“And Bowdaar?”

“We observed signs of life, but if you’re asking me to wake him now, that’s a big nope,” Eva piped up. 

Lana numbly bobbed her head once.  “Anything else?  You went to the Mandalorians.”

Eva played it off coolly; she was a good card player.  She kept her eyes on the screen as she continued her programming work. “If you trust Shae Vizla, the Revanites started manipulating things to create an ‘all-out war,’ and that’s when the Mandos bailed.  The only big piece of intel I got off of her was that the Revanites got an entire fleet of ships out here.”

Silence ensued as both Theron and Lana digested this.  Theron wasn’t particularly surprised, but at the same time, he felt his stomach drop.  He’d hoped they hadn’t progressed to this point. 

Lana’s only response was a deep frown on her face.  “That would explain how they tried to detain your ship on the way to Rakata Prime – the techniques, the combat.”  Lana seemed to become more self-aware and reached up to sort her blonde bob into better order.  “That may be reassuring; all of their ships may not be military grade.  This ‘fleet’ may be quite ad hoc – put together from ships they’ve captured…but we mustn’t forget the conspiracy has infiltrated quite deeply into the militaries.”

“What they had over Rakata Prime weren’t a bunch of garbage scows,” Theron remarked, voice gruff.  “What’s Vizla doing now?  She know where any of this is?”

Eva finished the program with a flourish and inserted a small data cell to copy it off for Blizz.  “She knows nothing, and she’s doing nothing, pointedly.  The Revanites never considered her a full partner, so they didn’t give her all the information.  Vizla says this is about war for the Revanites, not fighting – it’s not sporting.  The Revanites have stacked the deck to crush anyone who gets in their way.  So Vizla and the Mandalorians are sitting this one out.”

“Not helpful, but not hurtful either.”  Theron looked over at the new data at the strategy table again.  “We need to get into those safehouses.  Between decrypting the data from the Aggressor and finding the fleet, they’re too valuable to leave alone.  I suggest we surveil clusters of them, see which ones are unoccupied, sweep those first.”

Lana stared at the highlighted locations on the projected map.  “How do we handle those that are occupied?  Creating a distraction once is one thing; constantly creating distractions may blow our cover.”

Eva passed Blizz the data cell as she spoke.  “That’s partially my job.  I’m having a pirate meeting at the Blaster’s Path that may bring all sorts off the benches; some of those houses will be empty.”  Then she directed her words toward her companion.  “And I do believe your droid might be of use here, Blizz.”

“Blizz knows.  Blizz waiting for opportunity!  Needs testing.”  He hastily pocketed the data cell.  “Blizz finish droid.  Blizz bring tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, absolutely.  Bring it over to the Thief.”  Eva cleared the programming off the mainframe computer.  “We good til tomorrow night, then?” she asked Theron and Lana.

Theron made a few quick gestures and ran the data through the mainframe, quickly.  “Actively, yes.  Passively – walking back to your ship, can you take a look at the buildings on this path?”  A modified image flickered to life. “Look for signs of inactivity or abandonment.  If we can quickly eliminate a few of these places or extract data from them with minimal interference, then we can take fewer risks with the occupied safehouses.” 

“Just one pass?”

“Just one. Don’t attract attention to yourself.”  Theron switched off the strategy table using his datapad.  “I still want to get through more of the Aggressor data to make sure we’re not walking into something pre-staged.” 

Eva gave him a crisp nod. “C’mon, Blizz.  We need to check on Gronn and Torian.”  The pair started to walk toward the door.

“Boss and Torian in medbay.”

“Ha, I knew it.  Lightweights”  was the last thing Theron heard as they disappeared down the hallway and headed out the door.

With the click of the safehouse entrance, A7 made an irritated noise. “Safe now?  Jawa = gone?”

Lana tiredly replied, “Yes, A7.  I suppose I should get ready to follow up on Eva’s reconnaissance, when it comes in?”

Theron was already back at the main computer.  “If you’re up for it.  I’m planning on doing a few tonight while the computer grinds through more of … this…” He gestured with his hand at the mess that had been extracted from the Aggressor. 

“I’ll be up for it in a few hours – food and another attempt at sleep would probably be recommended.”

As Lana go up and left the room, Theron distractedly added, “And water.  Drink water.”

**

A shrill beep startled Eva as she was finishing up what Guss called her “deathstick chic” make-up.  Eh, if it was messy, it sold better.  Eva tossed down the eyeshadow stick and hastily ran a finger over her eyelid to blend it, while her other hand reached to check the comm unit on her desk. 

A quick look made her raise an eyebrow.  It came from a local source, but the signal was registered to --  She locked down her cabin door and took the hail.  “Beryl Thorne,” she said aloud as the Holo image flickered into view.

“Well, if it isn’t the Voidhound herself,” came the familiar voice.  Beryl’s familiar face, scar and all, came onscreen.  “You know, I was on Port Nowhere not long ago.  It’s cute how your minions fight to be your favorite.”

Eva let a small smile cross her lips.  “Don’t say that too loudly – Voidhound isn’t here right now, not on this planet. How long’s it been?  Quesh?”

Beryl returned a thin grin. “Let’s not talk about Quesh. I still have a rash from the fumes.  Look, I saw you were on Rishi, and I thought I’d run something past you.”  She rushed through the sentence.

She seemed overeager, excited…. Nervy. 

When Eva didn’t reply immediately, Beryl swiftly pursued the subject.  “An opportunity’s come up. How would you like to make a fortune together?”  She was breathless.

Eva’s eyes darted to her cabin chrono.  It was late. With Rishi’s lack of regulated space, Beryl had taken her chances trying to land in the dark.  Or she had arrived earlier and had waited til now to call her.  Why?

Couldn’t take too long to reply.  “Been awhile since I had an offer like that.  You know I’m in.”  The words slid out of Eva easily, in the well-practiced tone she used at the pazaak tables.  Buy time, think the next move through. 

“Good, because I’m out a crew, and this is a two-person job, minimum.”  Beryl looked away from the Holo comm, and Eva could see a brief flash of distress.

Eva looked past Beryl into the depths of her ship.  There was someone missing.  Her droid.  Slow play.  “Where’s Argo?”

Beryl’s eyes snapped back toward Eva, a little wild and panicked.  “I—He – I lost him escaping Nar Shaddaa.  Hutt Cartel infighting.  It’s been rough.  Listen, how about you meet me at my ship?”

Eva’s brain raced as she let herself nod, trying to keep Beryl on the line.  “I could do that.  When?” 

“Tonight.  Now.”

“It’s a little late,” Eva gently reminded her.  Put on the brakes. 

Beryl awkwardly shrugged one shoulder.  “Oh, you look like you’re ready to go out on the town.  Just stop by – I’ll give you my hangar number.”

Eva nodded again, her senses perked.  Something was wrong on Beryl’s end. Very wrong.  An uneasy, almost nauseous feeling settled within Eva.  “So how’d you catch wind I was out here?”

Beryl blinked.  “Port Nowhere, like I said.”

Eva crooked a grin at her.  “Yeah, sorry, been pulling long nights out here on a 20-hour cycle – I’ll probably call it after I’m done with you.”

“See you in a bit.”  Beryl’s tone shifted to something Eva could not place, but deep down, she knew something was afoot.

As the image went out, Eva frowned deeply and closed her eyes. Only Rogun knew she was out here, and he didn’t talk to anyone unless told.  Beryl wasn’t tight with him or Alilia.

Someone who knew she was the Voidhound knew she was here.

Eva’s intuition told her she’d spoken to a dead girl.  “Kriff.”  She ran her fingers back through her hair at her temples.  As a shaky breath passed through her lips, Eva stared at the Holo comm on her desk, now still and silent, the lights blinking as they usually did to indicate a signal.

“Kriff,” she repeated.  Eva grabbed her hat off the hook on the door and swept out of her quarters, heading straight to Risha’s bunk.

Risha was reading the latest datapad financial investment magazine on her bed when Eva barged in.  Any complaint fell to silence as she saw the look on her Captain’s face.  “Problem?”

“Beryl Thorne is a hostage.  Or dead.” 

Risha sat up.  “We –”

“Can’t.”  Eva sat down on Akaavi’s bunk across from Risha.  “She called me, offered a job.  Said she heard I was here from Port Nowhere.  Argo is gone.  Sounded nervous over the comm.”

Risha grimaced.  Getting Beryl arrested was one of the few things she ever carried guilt for.  Now the chance to make it right was likely gone.  “You’re probably right.  She wanted to meet you?”

“Yeah.  She buzzed me locally, so she knows where we are, more or less.  They only want me, I think.”  Eva tugged on her trousers slightly, trying to get a wrinkle to release. 

“You’re not seriously going to go?” Risha said, incredulous. 

“The hangar is on the other side of the Cove.  If I go, I’m leading them away from here.  They probably are already watching the ship… so tomorrow’s your birthday right?”

Risha stared at her as if she was nuts.  “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“You want to invite someone over?  You gave that one young guy some time the other night at the warehouse.”

Risha was on her feet, datapad tossed onto her nightstand, hands on hips.  “How can you think of something like that right now?”

Eva leaned back on Akaavi’s pillow, likely earning an ugly look in the future from her.  “I’m going to issue a bug out order disguised as a ‘do not disturb’ for your birthday.  He comes over, I step out politely, we make it very visible.  You activate all the security measures for the Thief and don’t let anyone back on til daylight.  Rest of the crew goes to bunk with new friends – or at the warehouse.” 

Eva saw Risha consider the plan, her expression becoming less annoyed and more concerned.  Despite the situation, Eva couldn’t resist smirking.  “He fits the bill for a private party, right?”

Risha rolled her eyes at Eva.  “Yes, if you must know.  How you managed to find him on this planet, I don’t –”  She let out an exasperated huff.  “And what are you going to do? Walk right into that trap?” 

Eva pushed herself upright. “Yeah.  I know what I’m probably going to find.  Just a matter of staying ahead of whoever is waiting there.  As long as I don’t come back here, they might watch the ship, but they won’t try to board.  They lose track of me, they get panicky –”

“And then they get stupid, because sentients are panicky, stupid creatures in a group,” Risha finished.  “Fine, I’ll call him.”

**

Eva slowed the speeder down as she approached the disused space port on Rishi. Most pilots just used the public docks – it wasn’t as if anyone was actually going to enforce the use of the hangar or even collect fees there.  A smuggler suddenly wanting to be law-abiding on a planet without law was a red flag.   

They must have thought she was an idiot, or at least overly sentimental. 

Eva didn’t think they were completely wrong on either count.

She killed the lights on the speeder as she drew close, then parked it just within the shadows of streetlights.  The moment her hands released the handlebars, they went to her blasters, both of them.  That made the dismount a little awkward, but Eva wasn’t going to be unarmed for a second out here. 

The port loomed across the street, most of the lights burned out.  With what little light there was, Eva counted the hangars until she reached the seventh.  There was a small bit of light that she could see from a distance. 

For a quick moment, she dropped her left hand to her belt to activate the stealth mode, never letting go of her blaster.  She heard the field rev up and she saw herself fade out of existence.  That always left a little fear in her; when she was young and more ignorant, she worried she wouldn’t be able to get back out of stealth (it was as simple as taking off the damn belt).  That fear had been reasoned through and discarded, but on a night like this, every little fear, every bump in the night, every slightly distressing thought was magnified. 

Eva then moved on light feet toward the hangar’s entrance, making no sound.  The anticipation was profoundly heavy, however.  She’d been lucky so far.  Most of her allies from before she was officially the Voidhound were still alive.  A few got themselves spaced.  More left the game.  A couple, she had to space herself, but they’d done enough that she didn’t regret it.  This was different.   This was her job title getting someone else killed; that was new and awful. 

Eva kept both blasters up and ready as Beryl’s silent ship came into view.  No internal lights.  No engines running.  Eva grit her teeth. She had to spring the trap.  She had to tip the first domino and let everything fall.  Otherwise, they’d come looking for the crew – and that she could not control.  She could control their pursuit of her.  She had to take the bait. 

The humidity of Rishi persisted, even as the daytime temperature did not; there was a strange, lukewarm mugginess in the hangar.  She chalked it up to the air circulators at the port no longer operating.  Did custom agents even report in anymore?

Eva looked up at the chrono within the hangar. It was broken, frozen at 1432.  Who knew how long it had sat there, useless. 

Then Eva was struck by the fact that there weren’t even vermin at the port.  Not even a few bugs.  Everything was still.

She rounded the far end of the ship, bringing the gangplank into sight.  Beryl had been in the middle of unloading her cargo.  Containers were stacked at the end of the gangplank, and as she continued her approach, Eva could see more waiting at the top of the gangplank.  Beryl shouldn’t have left it out at this time of night.  She shouldn’t have been doing it alone either. 

One of the lights flickered.  Eva checked her impulse to jump.  It was pointless.  She knew they were there, just as they knew she was there at this point.  Eva didn’t call out for Beryl.  No, she simply kept walking toward the last sign of life in this port – the half-unloaded cargo. 

Eva saw the top of a dark blonde head just barely visible from behind a stack of boxes.  As some part of her grieved with each step she took, Eva began to calculate the angles and contemplated what were her options for cover.  She and Beryl had never been close friends, so hijacking the ship with borrowed access codes wasn’t an option; the omnitool wouldn’t have the time to work.

Another step.  Eva began to come around the side of the stack.  She was still invisible to the eye, but anyone with the right tech would pinpoint her position; she made no assumptions about Revanite capabilities at this point. 

Now Eva could see an arm, the hand resting on the floor.  Her feet kept moving, the scene coming into view fully.

Beryl sat with her back to the crates, her right palm flat to the floor.  Her knees were pulled up toward her, her left arm across them.  Her head was propped on top of the arm, as if trying to catch some sleep. 

Eva silently cursed.  They were forcing her to confirm the kill.  Jaw tight, teeth grit, Eva took the last few steps toward Beryl.  She knelt down.  She only had one chance to do this right.  She used her right hand – still clutching her blaster – to tip the woman’s chin upward.  The contact briefly deactivated the stealth belt. 

Beryl Thorne’s lifeless eyes looked toward the ceiling, her eye makeup all run down her face.  She’d cried – begged for her life.  A blackened blaster mark marred the middle of her forehead, the surrounding area all red from how the laser had boiled the water in her skin. 

“Sorry, Beryl.”  That was all Eva could give her.

As the words left her mouth, she could hear the high-powered whine from some indeterminate location, and she dove behind the reinforced crates. As her knees scraped the floor and debris shattered around her, Eva pushed off and continued to slink behind cover back toward her speeder.  She holstered her blasters – they were no match for the rifle.

The blaster rifle continued to fire, clipping Beryl’s ship with a solid ‘ping’ each time and breaking cargo containers all around Eva as she fled.  Splinters and shards skittered across Eva’s path as she zig-zagged out of the hangar.  Eva heard the bolts strike the duracrete near her, creating potholes in what remained of the Rishi space port. 

As she rapidly changed directions, Eva felt her hat fall away from her head. 

There was a split second consideration to go back for it – she dismissed that urge. 

The speeder was in sight.  Eva reached into her coat pocket. 

A sizzle and then Eva yelped.  She’d been grazed, right leg.  “Kark!”  She could still run, with a limp.

She couldn’t stop.

She couldn’t stop.

Move.

Eva didn’t look back as she lurched to the right around the speeder and kept running.

She thumbed the remote detonator, and the speeder blew up behind her.  Using the explosion as a cover, Eva leapt off the dock, taking a great breath before her boots hit the sea. 

Water swirled around her ears, and she could still hear the blaster rifle firing over her head, the sound warped and distorted.  Eva let herself sink down, the weight of the Red Hulls’ uniform dragging her toward the bottom – but not too far.

Had Eva let herself break the water’s surface in close proximity to the hangar, she may well have heard the scream of frustration and the cursing by the would-be-assassin aimed at himself.  And perhaps she would have heard, most damning of all:

“I’m sorry, Evita.”

**

A knock came at the safehouse door, late.  Lana’s eyes darted up to the monitor.  “I can’t see anyone – the night is too dark.”  She paused, then continued, “I don’t sense any danger or ill-intent.”

The knock became more insistent, then it switched to a more teasing syncopation.  Theron and Lana exchanged a look.  “I’ll get it,” she said, amused.

Theron kept his ears open as Lana walked the safehouse hallway.  He heard murmurs at the door and the door opening.  It was Eva.  But then Lana gasped and that brought his attention to a high alert, even as Eva gave some joking response.  Theron crossed the room swiftly, hoping to catch stray words of explanation.  T3 trailed after him.

“Is everything – stars, Eva, what happened?”  As he reached the entry way into the main room, Lana and Eva appeared.

The smuggler was covered head to toe in the black sands of Rishi, a thick layer caked on.  Though she had cleared her face of the sand, it had still stained her skin a dark grey.  “Speeder bike blew up.  Guess Blizz’s prototype engine didn’t work.  I’m fine, just in dire need of a shower and a wash of clothes.”   Eva tugged at the stubborn bandana that had remained on her head, and it hit the floor with a sodden ‘thunk.’ 

Lana used a light, gloved hand to turn Eva slightly.  “Can you make it back to your ship?”

Eva shook her head.  “Risha’s birthday.”  Eva shrugged off the equally saturated overcoat.

“Oh, happy birthday to her… what does that have to do with anything?”  Theron watched as a fine layer of black sand began to coat the floor where Eva stood, every word and gesture shedding another few fistfuls of granules. 

Eva grinned, and Theron braced himself for the answer, giving Lana a look of warning as well.  “I found Risha the one attractive male virgin on all of Rishi.  She’s got the ship to herself for the night.” 

Theron shut his eyes and shook his head, silently chuckling.  Lana’s hand went up to her mouth to cover a laugh.  “Is he… on board for that?”

Eva made a face at her.  “Yes, of course.  Entire crew has decamped for the night.”  Eva started to work at her boots.  “C2’s a good scout – folds himself into a closet somewhere and sends out an all-clear when Risha’s shown her guest the door.  But until then – ” 

Lana crossed her arms.  “You’re stuck here.  The shower we can offer, but these clothes – I can get my astromech on it, but it may take some time.”  The Sith eyed the sand dune forming.

Eva procured an airtight bag, tossing it on the floor away from the ever-mounting pile.  Theron laughed, short and brief.  “Of course, the rules.”  Lana looked at him, puzzled, then down at the bag.  “Extra underwear saves lives, in essence. Ship rule to always carry spares.” 

“If one of you has something I can throw on over that, then I can wait out Lana’s astromech without too much fuss.” Eva lined up her boots at the door.  “If you guys don’t mind, I’ll strip to my skivvies here and head upstairs?”  Off her socks came. 

“Yeah, I’d appreciate not having a new beach spread throughout the safehouse,” Theron dryly commented.  Then to Lana:  “You got a spare set of pajamas or something?”

Lana shook her head.  “Nothing to fit her.  I have limited clothes here and she….is of a different shape than I am,” she finished diplomatically.

“Don’t want me stretching out your robes, huh?” came the chipper voice as Eva began to undo the buttons on her sandy trousers.

Lana primly turned on her heel, blushing.  “Sorry.” 

“I get it.”  She looked up at Theron as she carefully removed her trousers. “Got a spare t-shirt?”  He attempted to maintain eye contact, not looking anywhere below her lovely neck – but he failed when a stark, red mark was revealed on her right thigh, about halfway up.

Theron’s eyes went to Lana, who wasn’t looking at Eva, pointedly.  Then he looked Eva in the face.  She knew she was caught.  That was a blaster graze if he ever saw one. 

Eva looked at the wound in the light and winced.  It hurt. 

He gently tugged at the olive t-shirt across his chest.  “I buy these in packs of six,” he answered, keeping his voice level even as he tried to assess the wound from his vantage point without attracting Lana’s attention. 

She slid her shoulders out of her shirt and left it on top of the pile. She continued to banter with him.  “Unsure whether to chastise you for your lack of fashion sense or envy you as a man for being able to get away with it.”

At that moment, A7 began to roll toward them and clucked at the heap of clothing.  “Pubs = messy.”  His optic sensor spun slightly and then fixed on Eva.  She shifted her weight and turned slightly away, but it seemed the droid had noticed her ‘defect.’  

“Master Beniko –” A7 began, but T3 chose that exact moment to use the shock taser Eva had installed.  A7 let out a wild squawk before screeching away toward the backroom.  T3 spun his dome at Theron and Eva, then chased after A7. 

Theron was never going to let SIS reprogram T3.

Lana spun on her heel to follow them.  “I’ve told you two more than once that this is a neutral zone for the time being – you can’t just electrocute each other out of spite.”

“Shower up that way?”  Eva asked Theron, pointing up the stairs.

Theron nodded.  “Yeah, I’ll take you up, get the shirt for you.” 

Eva stepped in front of him to start up the stairs, but when it came time for her right leg, she hesitated.   It was the lift up the step --

From the next room, where T3 and A7 were loudly hissing at each other, Lana called out, “Are you sure that’s appropriate?”

“Don’t worry, we were married,” Theron threw out flippantly as he, unbeknownst to Lana and to Eva’s surprise, effortlessly picked up the smuggler, as she were his bride, and started to climb up the stairs.  In a low voice to Eva, he muttered, “Shower, then we patch that.  Then you tell me what really happened.” 

Eva nodded as Lana audibly balked at his previous comment.  “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” came Eva’s cheeky reply.  Despite the circumstances, Theron felt a grin spread across his face as he imagined the aghast expression on Lana’s face.

He wondered if T3 was recording all this, somehow. 

Chapter Text

One week prior

“No.” 

“You don’t have a choice anymore.” 

Gronn never hated someone as much as he hated Marcus Trant.  It wasn’t just for the past stuff.

It was the new stuff.

“No,” he repeated, again.  So many ‘no’s in such a short conversation.

Trant looked bored at his refusals.  “You stopped answering your sect’s leader months ago.  You’ve roused their suspicions.  That’s on you.  I need you to get back in their good graces.  You do what they tell you.”

Gronn shook his head, his voice modulator swaying inside of helmet, knocking against his chin and throat…he had to fix that.  “You made me shoot at her once. I hit her.  I didn’t mean to –”

Trant calmly put the datapad he held down.  His thumb hit the projection control, and a holo of Rishi shot into the space above Trant’s desk.   For a man who kept his cool and dressed neatly, his desk was a mess.  “You’re a hunter.  That’s what you do.  And it made them very happy to know you clipped her wings.  They understand that the consequences were unforeseeable.  They trusted you.  You helped me a lot.”

 “I hurt Eva.  I helped your mission.”

Trant reminded him, “You’ve helped her a lot.  She’s on my mission.  After the shooting, my agent has been exceedingly careful in tending to her safety.  And if anything, her recovery has made them think twice about attacking her again.  Until now.  Would you prefer someone else get the assignment?  Do you think they’d miss?”

Gronn wanted to slam his head into a wall.  It was always one more thing to do, one more loose end.    “I got into this cult so you’d leave Mako alone.  Then you roped Eva into this –”

“My agent contracted her.  She’s a willing participant.”

Gronn didn’t think Eva willingly volunteered to get shot.   Gronn stood up and towered over Trant.  “I’m not shooting her ever again.  Find another solution.”

Trant looked tired and irritated as he tried to see past the visor.  “Fine.”  Trant made a few swiping motions on his datapad, and an image of a woman appeared.  “Accept the assignment.  Then lure this woman to Rishi, kidnap her – whatever you see fit --  and dispose of her.  Use her as bait to bring Captain Corolastor to wherever you would want to shoot her – then miss.”

Gronn stared at the blonde woman.  “I don’t know who she is.”

“Does it matter?”

Gronn tilted his helmet slightly.  “Why would Eva come for her?”  The woman was a little older than Eva.  She had a scar.  He wondered how she got it.  “What did she do to deserve --?”

“Nothing.  She did nothing,” Trant answered matter-of-factly.  “She’s a credit-a-dozen smuggler.  An old business partner of Corolastor.  Nobody will miss her.”

Gronn drew back from Trant’s desk.  “So I have to kill an innocent woman –”

“She’s far from innocent, but yes, she’s unconnected to any of this.  But you need to show the Revanites you are serious and still committed to the cause.  You need to lure out Captain Corolastor – and miss this time. Thorne won’t be missed.”  Trant gave him another frustrated look. “If you’d just answered your holos –”

“I wanted out.  I did my end of the bargain,” Gronn growled.  “You asked me to do… that.”

Trant grabbed his datapad off his desk and the image of the woman disappeared.  “Your job will be done when my agent can return to Coruscant and the Revanite cult is broken.”

Those had been the terms. 

“That agent is awful valuable to you.”

Simple words had power.  So did Gronn’s trigger finger.

Trant spun on his heel to glare at Gronn, slowly approaching the bounty hunter. “That agent is the key to saving the free galaxy.  He’s keeping your smuggler safe –”

“And she’s keeping him safe.  You sent me to find him on Katalla.  I did.  Told me to watch ‘em.  I did, and I saw you trying to get them to play house.  Now you want me to deliver this package to him on Rishi and hurt her?”  Gronn watched Trant as one would watch a cornered massif. “I’m kinda dumb.  I might get confused.”  Gronn stepped in on Trant.

“I want a guarantee.  I want a dead man’s switch.”

**

Eva hadn’t expected to be swept off her feet when she went to the safehouse, but here she was, in her underwear with most of her skin grey from the sand, being carried up the stairs by her favorite spy, spare set of undergarments in hand. 

Practically, this was the fastest way up the stairs with her thigh screaming at her.  It was just a graze, but a graze from high-powered rifle hurt, and the wound was large enough to make her feel as if something vital was going to fall out if she didn’t watch it.

Personally, Theron picking her up – ‘wow’ was the first thought that managed to form.  He was strong; that surprised her over and over again, given how often he hid behind the data and intelligence.  But when he did show off that physical strength –

Wow.

The injury seemed to override any qualms Theron might have had about propriety and diffused any sexual tension that could have resulted from this.  As her foot brushed against the wall of the narrow staircase, he murmured an apology and adjusted the angle of approach.  Despite her rough night, Eva felt a warm little tug inside. 

Ah, hell. 

She thought this was romantic.  He wasn’t making that sort of an overture at all, but her brain was generating all those warm fuzzy feelings just because she was in his arms, being carried up the stairs. 

And she wasn’t fighting her brain on this because it felt nice – after nearly being drowned, blown up, shot at, and finding Beryl –

Being held for the duration of the climb up the stairs was something Eva let herself enjoy, probably far too much.

And then it was over, her feet touching down on the upstairs landing.  Theron pulled the chain to activate the weak light in the hallway.  “Bathroom’s that way.”  He pointed toward a door further down one end of the hallway. “I’ll leave the shirt on the doorknob. My room’s this one.”  The door on the opposite end of the hallway.  “Yell if you need anything.  Try not use all the hot water.”  Then he paused.  “You’re ok from here?”

Eva nodded.  “Yeah.  Got a medkit?”

“In my room.  Come in when you’re done.  And then we need to talk about your extracurriculars.”  Theron looked at her for a few more moments, an inscrutable expression on his face, before he turned to walk down the hallway toward his room. 

**

Eva tried to leave those feelings in the hallway.  She turned the water shades of black and gray as she showered off the sand.  She watched as the water then tinged a brownish pink as she tried to get some of the grit out of the blaster wound, and she cursed at the sting.  The effort to try to get all of the sand out of her hair resulted in reddish brown henna washing away as well.  Eva knew it couldn’t be helped, plus she was getting sick of being a redhead.

After toweling herself off and dressing in her spare bra and panties (Rule 19 saved the day yet again), Eva cracked the bathroom door to reach around to the doorknob.  The promised olive t-shirt awaited.  She tugged it on over her head.  She was busty, so it rode up a little higher than was probably expected (or appropriate), but it would do until the droids sorted out her laundry downstairs.

Eva was mindful of how her gait sounded as she walked across the planks in the hallway.  She couldn’t let herself limp here; Lana (or her droid) might have been listening downstairs.  At Theron’s door, she knocked. 

“Come in.” 

Eva opened the door and surveyed the room as she took her first tentative steps in.  The room was sparse. There was one lamp in the room on slightly lopsided bedside table, the bulb casting a dirty yellow light on everything.  Eva could see at least one of the travel bags Theron had with him previously thrown into a corner.  Theron had tucked himself into the large windowsill that was in his room. Through the window, he surveyed Rishi’s darkness.  He’d removed his boots, and she could see increasingly threadbare socks emerging from the bottom of his trouser legs.

When he turned to look at her, Theron’s neutral expression faltered.  A myriad of emotions paraded across his face.

She wondered if he’d ever lent a shirt to a woman in this context, based on that response. 

She decided to make nothing of it.  “Thanks for the coverup.  T3 says it’ll take an hour for the wash and dry, at least.” She held up the wrist with her commlink still attached and functional.  Eva pulled her hair into a single plait, giving it a slight twist as she pulled it over her shoulder.  “I didn’t use all the hot water.”

“Thanks,” he managed.  Then the professionalism dropped into place, as usual.  “Sit.  Leg out, so I can take a look at it.” 

Eva scanned the room, and the only place to sit with her leg extended was his bed. It was still neatly made from this morning, probably a hangover from military school.  Eva walked over, leg complaining the entire way.  “Leave it to us to have this be the way you get me into bed” 

Theron closed his eyes, momentarily, steeling himself.  When he opened his eyes, his calm was restored. 

Then he surprised her. “Keep talking like that,” he said, his voice lower in his register than usual as he crossed the room toward his bed.

“Seriously?”  This was really how it was going to happen? 

Well, okay, then, fine by Eva.

Theron soon loomed over her.  His voice was a whisper, and Eva considered herself lucky that she knew how to read lips.  “If you don’t think there won’t be a nosy Sith with an ear to the door – or her irritated little droid--”  Theron let the sentence hang in the air before continuing.  “Better to obscure what we’re really talking about… even if it means I don’t look like a good agent for it.”

It struck Eva that he was willing to sacrifice his good reputation to keep her injury – and whatever other news she had – secret.  She nodded at him.

As she sat down and swung her legs up, Theron knelt by the bedside and pulled out a medkit from under his bed.  He pitched his voice just loud enough to cover up any noises he made while rifling through the kit.  “I’ll fully cop to the fact that I made a terrible miscalculation when I gave you my shirt.  I’d have been better off if I just pretended you were in a swimsuit or something.” 

“It does make my gams look good,” she replied as she hiked up the hem of the shirt to fully reveal the graze. 

“You’re wearing it like a trophy, something you won.  I like it.”  A critical eye swept over her leg.  Quietly: “Not a bad.  The sea water didn’t help.  Think it just needs a dressing.. maybe a burn kit so the damage stops spreading.  You’ve probably had worse.”

Eva nodded and addressed his previous comment.  “So what else do you like?”  Eva replied, loud enough for someone outside the door to hear.  She ran her fingers around the hem of the shirt, somewhere between a threat and an offer.

He rolled his eyes. “Stop that,” Theron hissed.  Oh, he did have his limits on this little ruse.  Eva took her hands off the shirt and raised them where he could see them. 

Before either of them could say anything, Theron’s head snapped to the side, staring at the door.  Something else caught his attention – Eva opened her mouth to speak --

Theron shook his head, then deliberately sat down heavily on the bed, making it creak.  His eyes were fixed on the door --  no, lower, the floor by the door. 

Eva saw shadows shift there, and she suddenly remembered that both Theron and Lana were playing a longer spy game than she was.  She reached over to tug at Theron’s pant leg, and he drew his feet off the ground, making the bed creak again.  They watched the hallway light shift subtly.  Eyes still fixed on the door, Theron leaned to murmur to her, “Can you–”

“I never got into the habit of faking it – not going to start now.”  The wheezing hitch of his breath was worth it as the pair waited for any other movement. 

There was none.

“That would have been overkill,” Eva supplied. 

“I wasn’t going to ask you to do that, but – agreed.”  He cut himself off.  Still cautious, his gaze began to jump back and forth between the door and her leg.  “Speak quickly.  They might come back around in ten to fifteen minutes to eavesdrop on pillow talk.”  He shifted back off the bed to kneel on the floor.  He pulled out a pair of tweezers and a magnifying light from the medkit. 

Eva leaned her back against the wall and closed her eyes; she didn’t need to see this part.  “Old friend came to Rishi.  Shouldn’t have known I was here.”  She exhaled in discomfort as Theron carefully debrided a small amount of sand from the wound.  “Knew where the ship was.  Risha was the only one onboard, so she stayed.  Invited her friend over – we ran a check on him, new recruit to the Red Hulls, young but harmless –”

“And you told everyone else to shelter in place, more or less,” Theron filled in.  Eva opened her eyes to watch as he ran the light over part of the wound, checking for more loose particles.

She nodded, then a quiet ‘ow’ as he found more sand. 

Theron looked up from her leg.  “Then what?”

Eva frowned as she watched him return to his task, running the light over the wound again.  “Went to her.  She was already dead.  They staged her body so that I had to touch her to confirm the kill – had to break stealth.”  She heard the tremor in her own voice.

So did Theron.  He paused his work to look at her.  “They knew what equipment you ran.  They’ve been watching you for awhile.  Planned this for awhile.” He studied her face, expression neutral. “Then they shot at you?” he prompted.

“Yeah.  Close enough range that I heard the rifle warm up – it wasn’t like last time where they took the shot from far away.”

“And they missed.”

“A few times.”

The lines on Theron’s forehead became more prominent, and Eva could see the lights of his implants blinking.  He was thinking and searching, trying to piece it all together.  “…it was a message.  Or they never wanted to kill you.  Or something went wrong that they didn’t anticipate.”  He must have felt her gaze upon him, and he dropped his head low again, hiding his face.  “How’d you escape?”

“Blew up the speeder to give myself a screen, dove into the sea, swam as close to here as I could.”  Eva tried to stay brisk – she tried to think of this as something someone else did, not what she’d done after Beryl.

Theron put away the tweezers and the light and grabbed a disinfectant spray.  “Why’d you go to meet this friend, if you thought something was up?  Stay still for a moment.”  Theron blasted the wound.  Eva pulled a face as the wound burned, but she was silent. “Thanks for not screaming.  I don’t need Lana thinking certain things about my love life on top of everything else,” he awkwardly cracked. 

As the sting faded, Eva let her facial muscles relax, and she offered Theron a small grin that would have been far larger if she’d been in a better place.  “I can be quiet, if the situation calls for it.”  Now he smiled, and Eva answered his question.  “She’s a friend.  Well, was.” 

Grief bubbled up, and Eva brought a hand up to rub at her temples. “Goddamn, Beryl’s dead.  I knew her before I was –” Her last sight of Beryl’s face before Eva let her chin drop back down and started running for her life –

That was burned into her memory. 

 “I’m sorry.”  Theron had pulled out the medical gel and a sterile wrap.  “Almost done here.”  He bent her knee upward so he could wrap the bandage around her thigh. “Try to change out the dressing every night with gel.  Should be fine in a week.”

Eva nodded and tried to focus on watching his hands.  Funny how the image of him breaking that one guy’s neck on Katalla surfaced as he did such careful work on her leg.  “She never had an easy life.”

“She didn’t work for you?”

Eva shook her head.  “Beryl had her pride.  If she was going to escape the Hutt Cartel, it was not going to happen just so she could serve someone else.” 

As she finished speaking, Eva took notice of the very neat bandaging job Theron had done on her leg.  She tilted her head to get a look at the underside, where the bandage was almost invisibly secured. “Nice work.  And you bring a whole new meaning to ‘bedside manner.’”

Theron laughed, briefly but genuinely.  “I aced my field medic training.  The instructors were miffed that I didn’t specialize in it rather than slicing and intel gathering.”  He considered the memories for a few moments.  “I like getting the whole story, not just reacting to immediate situations.”  Theron pulled himself up to his feet and reached down to gently tug the shirt back into place, partially covering up his handiwork.  “I am sorry about your friend.  Beryl …Thorne?”  When she nodded, he continued, “She appeared in the research I did on you – Taris and Quesh. Didn’t seem to exist before Taris, though. How did she get tangled up with the Hutts anyway?”

Eva paused.  “Beryl wasn’t her real name.  She ran with Risha when they were both younger.  Imps caught her and sold her as a slave; Risha escaped and has had the guilts ever since. Beryl felt she was a different person after all that, so new name, new life.”  The sickening feeling that had threatened her all night surged to the fore.  “Gods, I have to tell Risha…”

“That can wait.  She’s occupied, right?”   For the first time, Eva detected a tone of utter disapproval directed at her or one of her crew. 

That was rather remarkable, given everything she and the crew had done.

Eva stared at him, silently.  Theron shifted his weight and rolled his shoulders once before starting to walk back toward his perch in the window.  Then he paced back toward her.  “It’s technically none of my business, what you or your crew do in their off-times, as long as it doesn’t threaten my op.  I shouldn’t have an opinion – it’s unprofessional in my business.”

“But you do.”   That was obvious, Eva chided herself.

“Call it a hangover from being a youngling; I don’t like turning a blind eye to certain things.”

Like the whole drug trade on Rishi. He wouldn’t forget it.  He wouldn’t let her welch on that promise to improve things here.  But the Risha thing – “Such as?”

Theron let out a frustrated sigh and gave Eva a hard glare with his olive-gold eyes.  “Risha seeking someone out because of what he is, not who he is.  It sounds predatory.  But that’s my perspective from dealing with traffickers who have checklists for their clients’ desires.” 

Oh. The virgin thing. 

Eva carefully folded her legs under her on the bed, trying to get more comfortable without flashing him (that probably wouldn’t go over well right now).  “He and Risha hit it off.  She’s having fun on her birthday.  Is it a bit of thing for her?  Yes.  Does he check a box?  Yes.”  Eva pointed a thumb in the general direction of Virtue’s Thief.  “But he’s legal, she’s legal, and it’s nobody’s business.  Including mine.”

Theron crossed his arms.  “Some Makeb after action reports had her nickname, from Virtue’s Thief’s stint there.  It’s not exactly a one-time thing for her.”

Eva smirked.  “Virgin Slayer.  Yes, she coined that one herself, years ago. She’s had it as long as I’ve known her.  Even when she was barely 21 and the guys she was with were older.”    Old memories resurfaced, and Eva let her amusement fade.  “She’s not doing anything sinister, in her mind.  Trust me.”

Theron’s eyes brightened as he filed this information away.  “There’s more to it.” 

“Yes,” Eva firmly replied. “If you’ve got all that intel on me, you’ve got hers as well.”

She could almost hear his brain working the angles.  Theron tilted his head.  “She presents herself as much harder, more criminally inclined, more ruthless than she actually is.”

“Correct.”

“She would rather be seen as predator than prey, at any moment.”

“Correct.”

Theron stopped to think.  She could see him squint, the dull light from the lamp obscured as he concentrated.  Eva wondered if he could sort it out himself.  Theron’s fingers laced together, and he planted them on his head, pensive.  “They’re not a threat to her.  She feels safer leading them.” His eyes opened wide, shut, and then took on a sad aspect.  “Oh.”  His arms dropped to his sides.  The silence filled the space between them.  “She doesn’t want them to end up like her.”

“Because it happens to boys, too.”  An old memory intruded. 

The summer on Corellia, when Risha climbed trees.

Risha had told Eva after she rejected the Count’s offer of marriage.  After Eva’s court case was dismissed. It explained a whole hell of a lot when they were planetside over the previous three years.  How picky she was, how Eva overheard last night’s date say Risha was the first nice lady – or partner in general – that he’d had, how young they tended to be, though with some exceptions.

Risha had wondered if she’d always be broken like this.  Eva couldn’t give her a good answer at the time.  She was pretty broken at that moment, too.

Still was, in a lot of ways. 

Without asking, Eva untucked Theron’s blanket from the bottom of his bed and folded it over her left shoulder, then grabbed the portion at the top of his bed and wrapped it over her right shoulder.  As she did so, she spoke to him, quietly.  “When I found out what she did, I suggested an alternative to that nickname.”

He waited, and when the rest of the story wasn’t forthcoming, he asked, “And that was?”

Eva pulled the ends of the blanket tight to her, smelling traces of Theron.  “Risha of Drayen, Patron Saint of Good First Times.”  Eva scoffed at her younger self. “I was drinking a lot at the time.  So was she, but she thought it was too ‘do-gooder.’  Too virtuous for what she does.”  Eva cleared her throat.  “To be clear, it’s not a compulsion.  She does it when she wants with whom she wants – but if she has advanced knowledge, she makes an extra effort.” 

Theron gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head.  “She was on her own for a long time.”

Eva shrugged.  “It can happen regardless whether or not you’re alone in the world.  But the odds go up when you’re by yourself starting at age 11.” 

“Or 16.”  Theron’s gaze was intense. 

Eva felt herself pull back toward the wall, slightly shocked, then a bemused smile broke over her face. “No, I just like sex.  No trauma behind that.” 

He gave no response, only his continued focus.

Given the topic matter, she grew bold.  “What about you?”

That made him startle slightly, but he shook his head.  “No.  I’m more like you.” 

The two of them continued to study each other.  “Think we should have that conversation?” Eva asked.

Chapter Text

“Think we should have that conversation?”

Theron deflected, initially.  “How long does it take for a droid to do the laundry?” 

“Lot of sand.  It’ll be awhile.” Eva was only half-joking. “And I can’t go back to the ship – not til it’s all clear.”

Theron sighed. “And you didn’t know I’d suggest this” – he gestured at her in his bed – “as a cover.”  He ran his hand through his hair. “Why do I do this to myself?”

Eva shrugged, wrapping his blanket around her a little more tightly.  “You like risk – bit of a gambler.  But when you bust, you really bust.” 

Theron let out an indignant huff.  She stifled a laugh as he sat down on the bed next to her, feet on the floor, hunched over with his forearms on his legs, hands folded.

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes.  The silence wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable.  It was just there.

Theron finally broke the ice.  “Sorry. Thinking.  I used to break slaver rings.  Interviewing victims was part of that.”  From her peripheral vision, she saw him swallow, hard.  “Didn’t realize Risha was...  She was more concerned about you that night…” 

Eva reached for the hand closest to her.  “Theron Shan, are you getting attached to my crew and having feelings and giving a damn about them?” 

Theron was still.  Then, in an unexpectedly cheeky tone, he replied, “Well, win over the crew, show some care for them, and you win the Captain.  Sort of like children and their single mothers.” 

She released his hand to sock him in the arm, half-heartedly, and they laughed, briefly. “If it makes you feel any less worried about me…ask.  Just let me ask you, too.” 

Theron turned his head to look down at her, surprised.  “You worried about me?”

“I’d be a fool if I wasn’t.  Spies and smugglers live fast lives.  Lot can go wrong, quickly.”   Eva readjusted the blanket around her shoulders.  “Besides, there are things we should know before we – you know – when this op is over.” 

Theron sat back against the walls “Yeah.  I’ve been thinking about that.”  In the dim light, she saw his breathing pick up slightly and perhaps a slight change in his pallor.  Theron folded his hands over his chest, and he spoke in a voice that sounded like he was trying to resummon his bravado.  “We’ve been shockingly honest for a spy and a smuggler so far. Why ruin the streak?”

Eva leaned back against the wall, still wrapped up in Theron’s blanket.  “Where do you want to start?”

Theron considered this question carefully.  “You’ve collected intel about me.  I’ve collected intel about you.”

“You show me yours, I’ll show you mine?” Eva wiggled her shoulders at him suggestively.

“Yeah.  Let’s view it as a challenge of our respective intel gathering skills.”  A certain arrogance crept into Theron, and Eva couldn’t deny she was attracted to it.  

But she also saw the crutch.  “You’ll get through this conversation easier if you have the Agent around rather than just yourself?”

“Hey, if you use the Voidhound to do your job –” Theron shrugged.

She raised her chin slightly, giving him the go-ahead.

Once he dropped into that mode, Theron was swift and relentless.  “Beyond the one I know, I don’t anticipate there have been any long-term partners.  I wondered about Makeb and Gronn, but I’ve been informed there have been impediments to any sort of further arrangement.  You and your crew did carve a path through the men and women on Makeb, but nothing that lasted past your business there.

I’m aware of some of the short-term arrangements, such as on Voss.” 

That startled her, a little.

His tone was cool, efficient, and neutral, but his eyes sparked when he caught her off-guard. “You shipped him love poetry; I found the receipt.”  Theron stopped speaking, and he looked at her as if he was calculating, trying to weigh out probabilities.  “The Voss situation was the first fling you’d had in years.  Prior to that…I may have received some information regarding … someone you quite literally spaced.”  Theron was very delicate in his approach.

Eva was not.  She more than eagerly rattled off the chain of events.  “Skavak. He stole my ship, I stole his chance at Nok Drayen’s fortune.  He fucked me, I fucked him, then I insulted his performance, punched him in the balls, then shot him.  And I got Corso’s blaster back.”   

Theron held back his laughter, just barely.  “You regret nothing?”

“I regret absolutely nothing, minus the fact he stole my ship in the first place.  Even then…”  Eva considered the way her life had turned because of his theft.  “Even then, I can’t regret the fact I ended up meeting Corso and Bowie because of him, and Risha commissioned me to find her father’s treasure.”  She gave Theron a nudge.  “Without Nok Drayen’s fortune, I don’t catch the Republic’s eye.  I don’t become Voidhound.  You never recruit me.”  Theron’s face softened at that consideration. Eva simply repeated, “I regret absolutely nothing in that chain of events.  Other things surrounding that –”

“I already know,” Theron finished her thought. He returned to his original findings. “So no other long-term partners?”

“Smuggling doesn’t lend itself to settling down or double-backing on your steps too often.  Often, I was with other spacers that wandered just as much as I did.  The one relationship I had worked because of the professional dynamic.”  Eva made a gesture out into the vague darkness, not wanting to put a name to him, not wanting to delve further.   “Best guess on the body count is however many weekends are in 4 years of me being single.”  Eva wasn’t ashamed.

“No, I don’t need that.  Other things matter more,” he answered quickly. Despite the almost elegant veneer, Theron looked like he wanted to apologize for even tangentially approaching her ex. 

Eva didn’t let him.  “What about you?”

He returned the volley with a quick “What’s your intel tell you?”  Something sparked in Theron’s eyes, as if he was waiting for a challenge to be thrown down.

Eva hesitated.  “Are you really testing the criminal underworld’s ability to gather intel on law enforcement?”

Theron gave her a most charming smile.  “Well, it’s a good test case.  I’ll know if you’re bluffing.” 

Eva could call and bluff with the best of them.  Taking a breath, she laid out what she knew.  “As I said before, you’re a hard man to find.  But I’ve spent probably more than half of all my waking hours planetside in cantinas, reading people from all walks of life.  That goes with being a professional gambler.  And I listen.”  Eva adjusted the blanket slightly as her left side threatened to tumble down from her shoulder. 

“I don’t know any specifics.  You probably took every precaution to keep whoever you had safe and separate from your spy career.  That also led to the relationship ending, because that person was so compartmentalized away from your job; they didn’t get it or you didn’t let them get it.” 

Eva squared her shoulders and dove in headlong.  “In the little packet of data my sources did manage to scrounge on you, there was some evidence to suggest you planted some rumors in the SIS mill to keep people guessing and confused about your private life.  I think that’s true?”

Theron was already smiling.  “Cheap thrills for when I’m actually on Coruscant.”

Eva nodded.  “That’s more or less the dating pool’s opinion of you too – fun for a few dates, but not commitment material.”  He chuckled at that.  Eva plowed forward.  “That was the consensus opinion of men and women in SIS.”

Theron didn’t react.  He held the smile he was already wearing.  Check.

Time for her to bet.  “You’ve always referred to past partners as ‘they.’   You said our tails at Katalla weren’t your type – they were both men.” She gave him a slightly embarrassed smile.  “You seemed to understand – absolutely – my affection for the male figure.”

That caught him entirely off-guard, and he burst into laughter. “That might have been obvious.”  His bravado persevered, but Eva could hear the nervousness in his voice.

That made her want to sit on the last piece of intel she’d received recently.  The reason why he might be nervous, why he’d hesitated – she understood, she did. 

Theron noticed her pause.  “Anything else?” he asked knowingly.  “I did bring up Lokir-Ka, after all.”

He was taunting her, wasn’t he, by naming that poor, sad man. 

Eva called the bluff.  “I did recently acquire some restaurant security footage from a few years ago.  You had a glass of water thrown at your head and a whole ream of slurs screamed at you by a female date.”  Theron’s smirk faded away.  “You didn’t let that stop you from enjoying your lunch after she left.  You got the waiter’s Holonet number; he saw the whole thing.” 

“Nice guy.  Shame that the only thing we had in common was being bisexual.”

Theron had said it so off-handedly, so uncaringly, Eva almost thought she’d misread him.  She’d made it a bigger deal than it was…

But then he dared a brief, inquisitive look at her, and she caught him – wondering if she –

He’d worn the same look on the holo just before the tantrum started. Eva felt her heart sink again; the first time she’d seen the footage, she’d realized that he felt every eye upon him as he had his meal after his date had dumped him and tried to humiliate him publicly. 

And he’d carried on, despite or to spite her.

Without looking at his face, Eva grabbed both of Theron’s hands and interlaced her fingers with his.  She wasn’t going to hit him.  She wasn’t going to throw anything. She wasn’t going to leave. 

After holding his hands for what seemed like a small eternity, she felt him squeeze her hands, and she looked at him.  Theron’s expression was serious.  She squeezed his hands back. Theron regarded her quietly, a small flash of relief crossing his face, intermixed with some anxiety.  “My SIS coworkers are fine with me and my private life.  They know.”  Now he frowned. “I wasn’t trying to hide or lie about it,” he insisted, a certain desperation on his face.  “I disclose when it looks like it might go beyond three dates – like we might be something.  People in general don’t always take the news very well.  As you’ve seen.”

“None of my business until a certain point.  This is pretty much the conversation it would come up in.”  Eva gave his hands another squeeze.  They both didn’t move for several moments.  Then one set of hands released the other.

At the same time “Do you want—”  “I think I need –”

Then Theron and Eva let out a few short laughs, and she found herself holding him.  They were hugging, but she most definitely the giver, the securing force.  One hand crossed over his shoulders, applying pressure and presence, while the other gently combed through his hair.  He shakily exhaled as his hands went around her waist.

“What, you thought I was a bigot?”

Theron let a small, hitching laugh out.  “For some, it’s one thing to have bisexual friends and another to go to bed.”

 “They missed out.”  She pulled him closer. 

After awhile, she asked him, “Want to go beyond intel?”

“Ok.”  She felt the slight increase in tension on his part.   “Got time to kill anyway.”

“First times?  Since that was the topic that started this conversation?” Eva figured more recent history might be a bit fraught for both of them.

“Ok.”  The answer was muted.  “I can do that.”

Eva seized upon the opportunity to defuse the situation almost entirely.  “So this is less awful than it sounds, but I have no idea which incident would count as my first time.” 

Theron pulled his head back to stare at her, his expression caught somewhere among confusion and annoyance and amusement.  “I knew it’d be something ridiculous with you – you were far too eager to talk about this.  How does that happen?” 

Eva shifted to rest her left shoulder against the wall.  “One of the smug crews my parents were friends with had a young hand – he was about my age, maybe a little older.  I was sixteen, hormones everywhere.  We finally get some alone time on his ship, and one thing led to another – well, that’s when the story gets into dispute.  He says we did, I say we didn’t.” 

Theron considered it, a reluctant smile coming over his face.  “I’m going to guess he was insecure and – possibly – ”

“Probably,” she filled in.  “I think he made it to the destination before he even got to my loading ramp, if you know what I mean.”  

Despite himself, Theron let a slightly lewd cackle escape.  “Poor guy.” 

“Poor me,” Eva huffed.  “Never saw him again – smuggler life wasn’t for him and he eventually left his ship.”

Theron nudged her.  “Now, the other story.  Seriously now.” 

Eva nudged him back.  “I think it’s your turn.  I’ve already guaranteed you another story.” 

Theron looked at the ceiling for a moment before turned his attention back to her.  “It’s pretty boring.”

“I hope you’re not boring now,” Eva replied, catty. “No one wants to hear that.”

He gave her a withering look in jest before relaxing.  “She was a sister of my bunkmate at SIS’s early recruitment program.  I got her attention even before I grew my hair out from the military academy.  She was older – first or second year in civilian college. She visited him with their parents on the weekends.”  Theron ran a hand back through his hair, almost bashfully.  “We snuck off to the running track a few times.  She knew what she liked.  I had a good memory.  I was 17.  The controls on the academy’s biodome permitted autumn weather.”  The smile that crossed his face was distant.  “We weren’t serious.  She eventually met a grad student and married him.  I met someone else too.”

Eva watched him as he told the story.  A good memory for him.  Maybe it didn’t end like he’d hoped, but nothing too bitter. “Was it fun?”

“Yeah, absolutely.  She liked it too.”  Theron seemed to emerge from his memories.

And then --  

“On the topic of Katalla,” he whispered in her ear. “I was right.  You were right. There were Revanite agents in the Hutt Cartel, at least until we screwed up their operations on Katalla.  They arranged the Revanites as stand-in managers for that Hutt vacation.”

“Are you using intimate conversation as a cover in case there’s a nosy Sith or her droid at the door?”

“Wouldn’t you, if you were Pub in what now seems to be a nominative alliance?” His grip tightened around her waist and his face pressed against her neck.  “That’s so much opportunity for the Sith Empire, financially and politically, if that was public knowledge.” 

“And we’ve drowned it in heartfelt confessions and intimate disclosures about each other.  You are good at your job.”  She practically purred her appreciation. 

God, they worked well together. 

 “Now, how about the real story about yours?”  Right back on the attack. 

Eva good-naturedly rolled her eyes.  “Fine.  This guy was smart.  He checked my chain code before having anything to do with me.” 

Theron’s expression froze.  “Were you--?”

“I was of age on the planet, 18, but not everywhere – chain code said otherwise, as you know.  He was older.  Older than you now, if I had a guess.”  Eva started to giggle at the memory.  “He was wise enough to doubt the chain code, look at me, and say, ‘You’re so young, if I even  look at you funny, I’ll knock you up.  You got a birth control implant?’”  She did a rough imitation of the spacer.

Theron raised a brow.  “Did you?”

Eva preened and rearranged the blanket around her shoulders.  “That was my sixteenth birthday present from my mother.”  The other eyebrow joined its partner in racing up Theron’s forehead.  “She was progressive.  And as a smuggler herself, very realistic and practical. Dad gave me my first hold-out knife.  And my own start codes to the ship, if it makes you feel any better.”

Theron blinked as it all registered.  “They didn’t leave you defenseless.”

“They were good parents,” Eva reminded him.  “Anyway.  The guy was apparently progressive too, since he had a birth control implant – the male variety was new on the market.”

“Not that new.  Five years or so at that time,” Theron corrected her all too quickly. 

A moment of silence ensued, and then Eva felt the corners of her lips turn upward. 

Theron grudgingly let himself smile.  “I was first in line to get one.  I was 17 – yeah, I had it for her, but always for myself, too.  No sense in repeating mistakes.” 

Eva bit the inside of her cheek and considered objecting.  Her mouth opened to do so.

Theron saw it and immediately said, “Don’t even say it.  I’m as much a mistake as you are a criminal.  Finish the story.”

She remembered how she’d been honest about the label and how he resisted using it at all.  Eva wasn’t a criminal to Theron, as much as Theron wasn’t a mistake to Eva.  She did as he requested.  “He got us a room at the cantina – he knew a guy, so it was actually clean and well-stocked.  I had good safe time.  And this time, I was sure something happened.” 

“Was it fun?” he asked, quietly. 

“Yeah,” she answered lightly.  There was a slight grin on her face, but nothing like the smile he’d worn when he ran through his memories.  “He wanted to be able to say he gave a great night to someone that young and that pretty.  He had something to prove.  I benefited. Never crossed paths again.”

They lapsed into silence.  Theron knew it was his turn.  He straightened up, still holding her.  “I don’t think I’ve talked about this before. I don’t… talk long enough with men to get to this part.  I sleep with them. I’ve gone on dates with a few more without us going to one apartment or another.  Women, though – I date them, I have one-night stands, I pursue relationships with them.  They make up about three-quarters of the body count…they hear the first story, if they ask.” He stopped for a few moments, and Eva saw something flicker across his face.  “Neither of my serious girlfriends wanted to hear this story.”

“I’m listening.”  She didn’t hesitate.

Theron looked at her, thinking over how he wanted to tell the story.  He spoke finally.  “Yes.  The other first time was good.  Fun.  Safe. I was an adult with my own apartment, but I went over to his place a few times before.  I was probably way too carefree about it all.  I learned what I liked.” His expression changed to something slightly wistful.  “Despite all the new experiences, the one memory that stands out is the feel of his stubble on mine, kissing after we’ve each had a cup of caf.  Sometimes the chocolate croissant – what I had that morning after in the park.”

“That sounds very romantic,” she murmured.  Eva didn’t have those memories with her weekend flings.  She had them with Darmas, with brunch on the weekends on the rare occasion she stayed over. 

She didn’t miss the man anymore.  She missed --

“It’s more romanticized, if anything,” he admitted.  “I never felt that way about him.”  A beat.  “There were a few times I wished I – with other guys – I don’t know.  I’m not the most emotionally available person, even with the best of partners.  Even when I try.  It just seems to happen easier with women, for me.”  Theron shook his head.  “Anyway.  First time with a guy was a success.  I got rid of a lot of hang-ups.  I learned aftercare is more than just volunteering to sleep in the wet spot.”

She sputtered in laughter at the abrupt proclamation.  “Oh, that’s already more noble than 60% of men, in my experience.”  She continued to shake with the giggles as they looked at each other in the dim light of the room.  A slightly embarrassed smile was crossing his face, and he was laughing a little as well. 

Then.

“I haven’t … not since before Korriban.  With men or women.”

“Not since before Korriban either.”

That covered the entire seven months of their association. 

So both of them had –

They both grasped at the revelation and each other.  Eva could feel his heart beat through his shirt.

Theron’s hand suddenly tugged at the hem of the shirt she wore.  She pulled back, a silent question.  His eyes drifted down to her legs.  More accurately, the scars on her legs and the newly bandaged graze.  “When we -- I have a lot of scars.  More than you.”  He paused.  “I rather you didn’t ask about them.  It’s –most of the sources are classified.  But it’s not just that.”

Eva let a sad smile creep in.  “You’re not the first spy in my life.  I can guess.  And I’m a smuggler.  You can guess.”  

A quick intake of breath signaled he hadn’t quite thought of it that way, but he quickly moved to distract both of them.  “You’re forward.  I like that.  Makes it easier for me.”

“Forward is fine with me.  Smug life is full of a lot of doubletalk and things left unsaid – I guess being a spy is much the same. Explicit is good, in so many ways.”  She let a slightly naughty grin play out on her face, before she relented and let her face relax as she looked at him.  “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together, once you’re off this op.”

Theron hugged her tight to him again.  “Same.”  Inwardly, Eva wondered if this tight hug was to prevent further temptation or to grab onto some safe comfort in this conversation, this very emotionally intimate conversation, both because of and in spite of the topics. 

It was a sweet moment, only broken by his own, quiet whisper, “My God, how long does it take that droid to do laundry?”

Eva giggled.  “You started it.”

“No, you started it by crawling up to our doorstep with an entire beach attached.  I … just made it worse for myself.  As usual.” 

**

Mako knocked on Gronn’s cabin door.  He could tell her knock apart from anyone else’s in the galaxy. 

He sat on the floor by his bunk, limbs stretched out as best they could be in the cramped area.  His helmet and respirator stared at him, dismantled at his feet. He was finally fixing the modulator.  It’d gotten loose when he jumped off the roof on that random-ass planet to avoid Bowdaar. 

Gronn let other Mandalorians get torn to shreds by Bowie.  One more black mark in his book. 

He growled at the door.  He heard her soft sigh from the other side.

“I just – I have our next gig lined up.  Whenever you feel like you’re done here, we’re ready to go.”  Her footsteps tread away from the door for a few seconds, then they walked back.  “Listen, I’m sorry about how I acted last night.  What I said – well, I meant what I said.  We’re better than just being underworld enforcers.  You did a good thing for Thera, but…I don’t like being tied up with the Republic. You know why… and she’s… you know who she is.”

Mako knew about Eva and the SIS agent.  She’d see his green dealer’s visor for what it was and pointed him out on the security holo.  She knew a little something about hiding cybernetic implants. 

“Are you still mad about the marriage registration?”

Gronn sat there, numb.  Why’d she have to blame herself all the time?

“You went to her on Makeb when you --  I’m sorry.  I just got ahead of myself.  Of us.”  A touch to his door, and he somehow knew she was leaning her head against it.  “You’re the best.  I wanted – still want – it to be that way.”

After a long period of silence, Gronn opened his mouth to respond.  “Baby, you’re the best.”  But then he realized she’d already left.  “I promise, Mako.  You’ll never have to deal with SIS again.” 

Then he laughed.  “Neither will I.”

He laughed until tears came down his face and he went hoarse. 

**

Not long after Theron commented about the laundry, T3 chirped that he’d finished with the Captain’s trousers, which was enough for Eva to return downstairs and not scandalize Lana any further.  A7 was still squawking at the shirt and coat in his care. 

Theron went downstairs to retrieve the trousers, and when he closed the door behind him, he paused.

Eva stretched her legs as she stood up to cross the floor to him. “Enjoying the view?”

Theron made a noise adjacent to a chuckle but not quite.  “Dreams begin or end with you looking like this,” he admitted. 

A smile bloomed on her face, and Theron felt its warmth as she drew near to him.  “…That’s good to hear.” She extended a hand to take her trousers, and Theron let them go, easily. 

As she began to pull them on, Theron rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not much but the couch downstairs is free if you need to crash.” 

Eva raised an eyebrow as she hopped momentarily to get her foot through one trouser leg.  “So you take me upstairs in a state of undress and then you make me sleep on the couch?”

Theron rolled his eyes and grimaced.  “We had to talk. Don’t care what Lana thinks about that.”  Then he said, in a much lower voice, “It’ll be different— ”

“One would hope!” Eva managed to tug the other trouser leg on successfully and buttoned her fly.  “I’ll sneak out once Risha sends the all clear.  You’ll keep me posted on how the safe houses go?”

He nodded. “As long as you let us know that the distraction is working — anything that causes someone to get up and leave early—”

“You got it.”  Eva moved past him to leave, looking up at him one last time.  “Night, Theron,” she said quietly. 

She lingered in the doorway for a few moments as he said it back to her, then she was down the stairs and creeping across the main floor, chatting with T3.

He couldn’t close the door fast enough.  He’d disclosed. He told her.  Part of Theron soared, free and thrilled because she didn’t reject him or hurt him. She was as good as the dream version of her, even better since the real Eva didn’t insist on breaking his professionalism into pieces…

His libido cursed the tight chain he had on it when he was conscious.  Unconscious— that was a different story, and Great Maker, it got more difficult to let her go or push her away when he was awake.

But somehow, Eva’s open and undeterred affection for him was worse.  That would have been the easy out, the escape from something already too deep.  Theron could have written it off and gone back to his life as usual once this op was over — the end was near once they cracked the data, sent it to Grand Master Shan and Darth Marr, and returned home.  Then Theron could go back to eating his way through Coruscant’s restaurants.

Now he had to come up with an excuse as to why she couldn’t come along.   

Being a traumatized drug addict? Not enough.  Crime lord? Nope. Alcoholic gambler?  Barely made a dent. 

Theron perceived her as none of those things. She was witty, practical, never boring, bold, and strangely principled, in her own way. 

As he lay down on his bed a bit later that night, he cursed as he could breathe in dilute traces of her, her hair products, her body wash, her perfume  – whatever had not been fully drowned out by the utilitarian soap in the bathroom.  That conjured sexually charged recollections of her face and neck, her legs that went on for days, the breasts he wanted to see and feel more of — his personal weakness.

Oddly, what annoyed him more now was that he’d lied to her.  He said it’d be different when they actually did sleep together.

Theron usually did the leaving in the middle of the night.  He rarely let partners even enter his apartment.  He would hope they’d leave promptly if they did. 

Now he dreaded that with her. Because …  he didn’t –

Theron shoved his head under a pillow.  Somehow he always managed to plunge himself into heaven and hell, at the same time.

When Theron woke to meditate at sunrise Coruscant time (he needed to clear his head before dealing with Lana), Eva was gone.  His shirt, abandoned on the back of the couch, was the only sign she’d been there.  Theron picked it up to take it to the laundry pile. As he clenched it in fist, he felt the conflicting feelings: of wanting to be close to her and also to push her away. 

Yeah, she had her issues. But so did he, and at least she wasn’t taking hers out on him, no matter how indirectly. 

He idly realized his shirt now smelled like her too.  And it made him relax, despite the war in his head.

Ugh.

Chapter Text

“I don’t like this.”

“You don’t get to have an opinion on this right now, Corso.”  Risha’s eyes met Corso’s in the makeshift dressing room mirror.  “The Red Hulls need representation at this strange talent show thing, and there’s only one person on the ship with any talent they’d be interested in.”

Corso sighed as Risha went back to work with the eyeshadow palette and simulated gold dust. “I know.  I just think we’re asking for trouble, setting up this kind of act in a place like this.”

“And that’s why you’re here with me – you won’t let trouble get too far.”  That seemed to disarm Corso enough for Risha to finish her handiwork.  “I’m actually more worried about Guss.”

“You’re worried about him?  Good golly, you’re going soft.”  Corso barely managed to dodge Risha’s elbow.  “Anyway, that’s why we sent him with Bowdaar.  Someone tries funny business with that transaction, they lose a limb or two.” 

“I still don’t like it.  The Sacorria Scorpions want a special meeting to sample the Red Hulls’ spice supply tonight of all nights.”  Risha carefully placed the headpiece of the costume.  “Then Eva decides to use Guss and the drugs to keep people here at the cantina rather than let them go back to their safehouses – where the object of her frustration is.”

Corso gave Risha a sidewise glance.  “Inside track not so good?”

Risha fixed him with a look that was so sour, Corso thought his mouth would pucker.  “I have no idea.  She strolled in this morning, showered with her clothes laundered, humming Corellian showtunes.  I asked her whether my birthday had resulted in her getting the present – and she had the gall to say ‘no’ with the most disgustingly happy look on her face.”

Corso couldn’t help but let the grin crack across his face.  This was probably one of the more entertaining betting pools yet.  “Well, I can’t say offering free samples of spice outside a cantina with a lot of blasters and alcohol is a great idea, but it sure as hell make sure people won’t want to go home.  And it’s just dumb enough to work that we’re sending those two and not Eva, not while she’s got the big fish to deal with.  And Akaavi’s with her.  And pissed.”  Corso carefully maneuvered around the dressing room table.  “She’s been pent up since she got poisoned, plus Gronn being around put her in a sour mood. I wouldn’t cross that Mando tonight, at all.”

Risha offered a slight nod in agreement.  “Almost show time.  Walk with me to the backstage area.  I’ll watch for strange hands if you do.”

**

Guss really didn’t have a palate for hard drugs; he didn’t even know the ryll he’d scrounged up a few weeks ago was bad until Risha and Eva dissected it in front of the crew. That wasn’t exactly a proud moment to figure out he’d been snorting sand.

At least he got the Wookiee to help, though that scared him a bit too after that giant fuzz ball had smacked him into the side of the Warthog in order to christen it.  Guss wasn’t sure how he ended up doing these jobs, but it sure beat having rugrats with laser swords dancing around him or freezing his ass off on Hoth. 

“You ready?”  Bowdaar looked over at him, adjusting his sword’s straps. 

“I’m about to execute a drug deal that really is above my paygrade while not having any idea of what quality is, and I’m paired with you, who would never defile his body with such a substance and doesn’t have a glowing opinion about me or the transaction.  Yeah, I’m peachy.”  Guss tucked his hold-out blaster into his coat’s inner pocket.  “Remember, we’re supposed to be keeping an eye on the bodies milling around outside, not just these powderheads.”

Bowdaar nodded.  “We keep them from leaving too soon and missing the fan dance.  Very tasteful.”

Guss shook his head.  “Never thought I’d see it, but hey, we all have our gifts.  I haven’t found mine yet, but I’m sure it’s in there, somewhere.” 

Bowdaar nodded sagely.  “It’s likely very deep inside you. Well-hidden.”

Guss appreciated Bowdaar.  He said such nice stuff.  Guss motioned for Bowdaar to follow him out the warehouse doors to the Blaster’s Path.  “So Corso and Risha have that covered.  We’re talentless and so we’re dealing drugs outside like my mother always expected of me.  What’s Akaavi doing to keep people around Eva?”

“Glaring,” Bowdar answered bluntly.

“Yeah, that’d be good enough for me.” 

**

 Indeed, Akaavi was glaring.  Although she admitted that the Captain did things that most criminals lacked the courage to do, there was a line between imprudence and gutsiness…and Eva liked to edge along it.  On this, Risha and Akaavi agreed, though where that line was, the two women disagreed. 

Having a party on the roof of a cantina while knowing someone wanted her dead was over Risha’s line.  For Akaavi, defiance against intimidation was an appropriate response; being visible was fine. But casually having a drink and making friends?  That was over Akaavi’s line; it was one thing to sit in vigilance, guarded and intimidating.  It was another to act the role of the fool in an effort to deceive. 

Yet here she was, watching Eva quaff drinks and speak in low tones to men that were no longer on the front lines of Rishi’s pirate gangs; they’d grown fat in their hideaways, gone grey in their boltholes as they waited for better days.

Akaavi believed Rishi wouldn’t have remained under the thrall of the Novas if these men had dared in their youth, but now their cowardliness profited her captain.  Akaavi still thought Eva should have moved with Voidfleet, but the argument of whether she’d be alive to enjoy the victory – Akaavi couldn’t help but let her eyes drift toward the hidden bandage beneath Eva’s trousers; she’d changed the dressing before coming out tonight, and it did look like it was on its way to healing properly. 

Akaavi could figure out who she’d crawled to; Gronn’s work was never so neat. 

Agent Shan, however, was becoming a distraction, mostly because he hadn’t responded to Eva’s messages today.  Akaavi hadn’t seen any correspondence go out or be remarked upon, but the way Eva’s hand twitched toward her comm unit, the way her eyes would periodically skip down to her wrist to see if she’d missed a message – it was obvious to an observer.

That was sloppy.  The behavior could not continue.  Akaavi stepped away from where she had leaned herself up against the wall and trudged toward her captain.  The pirates gave her a wide berth, and as Akaavi drew closer, she could hear Eva making conversation with a pair of the local leaders.

“So this pirate get-together – annual thing?”  Eva sipped some unknown dark substance in a glass.

A portly, red-haired human with a cybernetic hand replied, “Aye, but there are other days where we signal parley and fraternize.  The only crew that doesn’t honor that – well, you’ve met them.”  He glanced around the room, as if a Nova Blade would lurch out at any second. 

“Without the Nova Blades stirring things up, how much conflict would you say there is on Rishi among the various crews?”

A dark blue Arconan missing an eye (not that he’d miss it; their poor vision was renown throughout the galaxy) answered this time.  “The Nova Blades have been a fixture here for centuries.  It is difficult to guess how much they cause and how much they prevent.  If they were to fall – ”  The Arconan shook his head.

The human picked up where his compatriot left off.  “I’m of the thought that when the big shark dies, all the little sharks will be free to eat each other.”

Eva tilted her head slightly. “And if there was another shark entering the pool?”

The Arconan made a trilling noise – Akaavi supposed it was his equivalent to laugh.  “That would depend upon the shark and her teeth.  You have enough to destroy the old shark, but managing all the little ones may be beyond you.”

Eva seemed to take a moment to think as she downed the entire contents of her glass in one gulp.   “Beyond me, yes,” she said as she came up for air.  “But not beyond us.  And others that want to see a Rishi without them.”  Eva had picked upon her drinking buddies’ reluctance to call the Novas by name.  She spoke their language.

And she was going to offend them if she didn’t stop fussing with her comm link.  Akaavi finally inserted herself into the conversation.  “Captain, your comm link,” she demanded, monotone.

Eva paused to stare at her a moment, before realizing she’d be caught – rightfully so.  She was cool as she wordlessly unclipped her comm link and tossed it to Akaavi.

**

Lana cast a nervous glance out the window.  She knew that Eva could do her job and do it exceedingly well, but the fear of getting caught loomed around her despite her best efforts.  The exterior neon lights cast a sickly tone over the room she was working in.  Lana kept her head down, below the level of the window frame.  She was quick at retrieving the information that was scattered around the physical rooms but painfully slow at slicing.  Theron had kindly taught her a few tricks to get her past her rudimentary, holotext-wrought knowledge but any talent in that realm remained far, far inferior to Theron’s seemingly natural skill.  Lana tried to prioritize her other intel gathering skills before resorting to slicing. 

Jakarro stuck his head into the room.  “Lana, big storage room.” 

D4 sounded irritated. “It all looks like normal paraphernalia that a bunch of criminals would use.  Nothing significant.”

“But what would ‘normal’ equipment for criminals look like on Rishi if they weren’t Nova Blades?”  Lana rose to her feet in the shadows, avoiding the light from the window.  “Show me.”

She followed Jakarro down a hallway and then down a short flight of stairs to a room with the digital lock blown off.  “Where’s Theron?”

“Found a computer.  Seemed important.” Jakarro shrugged.  He wasn’t one for details, and Lana simply nodded distractedly and began to assess the room she now stood in.

The room clearly had been used for storage, but there also appeared to have been an assembly area of some sort.  The table was strangely clean – it was out of place in a hovel like this.  Effort had been exerted for the orderliness and the meticulously neat area.  Lana ran a hand along the table – nothing. Not a crumb, not a speck of dust.

Lana didn’t need the Force to sort out something wasn’t right.  Intuition and observation still had their places in her life.  What had been here?

She turned to gaze at the boxes, also clean and arranged purposefully on the shelves and stacked against the wall. No torn tops, no evidence as to what, if anything had been used.  The meticulous labeling told her what was here. In sum, everything in this room added up to nothing.  It was a question of finding the right equation, the right combination of item in this room that could tell her what had been here. 

**

When Theron finished thoroughly infesting the computer in the Nova Blade hideout with spyware and installing his own backdoor into it for later access, he pulled out of the dive enabled by his implants.  He regained his sense of location and carefully walked to the stairwell.  He looked over the railing to see Jakarro hidden just out of sight of the front door.  D4 scanned for approaching sentients at the back, his eyes casting a glow across the width of the house.  Trash was scattered throughout, the scent of food waste accompanying.  Housekeeping wasn’t one of the pirates’ strong suits. 

“Theron!”  Lana’s voice was crisp and clear as it shot through the house, loud enough to make him move swiftly down the stairs.  Jakarro flicked a wrist in the general direction of the Sith, keeping watch at the door.  Foot traffic had increased as the night had gone on. 

Theron darted between the shafts of neon light that came in through the windows and doors, reaching a large storage room.  Lana stood there, hand stroking her chin thoughtfully.  “You need to keep it down –”

“Theron, is there only one bathroom?  And on this floor?”

Theron just stared at Lana.  “You called me down here for this?” 

Unflinchingly, Lana replied, “Yes.”  Then she finally made eye contact. “Is there a bathroom upstairs?” she asked, increasingly insistent.

“No?”  Theron continued to stare as she brushed past him to walk toward the bathroom in question.  “Lana, seriously, what —?”

A triumphant “aha” emerged.  Theron let out an exasperated sigh and followed.  Lana had pulled open all the cabinet doors in the bathroom and was looking at a stash of tall brown bottles.  “With as much hydrogen peroxide and nail polish remover as they were hoarding here, you’d think they would be opening a beauty salon.”  She spun on her heel to look expectantly at Theron. “Or perhaps one other, more feasible option that suits their interests.”

Theron froze as his brain made the connection. He strode back toward the storage room and tried to assess the table and any tools—

“They’ve swept them away. That’s one thing they were careful enough to clean up after — and rightfully so.” Lana came up behind him.  “If that crate of hydrogen peroxide was half empty, how powerful of a bomb could they have made?”

Theron swallowed as he calculated out — “I’ve never made something that big.”

“Is it enough to raze down a cantina?” Lana cut right to the heart of the matter, and Theron felt his innards lurch in response

“Yes” was his verbal response as he pulled out his datapad to send a semi-frantic message to the woman whose Holotexts he’d been ignoring all day.

Theron had to make space. He had to disengage or else it would be too burdensome. He’d said too much, let her in too much --   Once things cooled off he could bear to comm with her —

“We need to get over there.”  Theron shoved the datapad into his jacket.  “Based on what I pulled from their files, the Novas who hung out here had converted to the Revanite cause — they’ll blow themselves up to get rid of the Red Hulls.”

“What about the other bolthole? It was empty. Where have they gone?”  Lana kept pace as he began to grab their gear from the main room, preparing to clear out. 

Theron’s hands continue to pack bags as he spoke. “Either they don’t know and they’re collateral or they’ve gone to get target practice in — confirm the kills.”

Jakarro rose from his position by the door.  “Didn’t want to go to that party anyway.  Shan, you and Beniko go ahead. Jakarro will finish the job here.”

There was a mildly awkward silence as everyone knew exactly what Jakarro meant by that.

Then two pairs of boots were rushing through Rishi’s streets towards the Blaster’s Path.

** 

“The ladies and the boys were the final straw for my crew.  If they’re in with you, then I guess we are as well,” slurred Gingerbeard (Eva couldn’t remember his name).   “All the morale boosters are on your side.  And if there are no ports to anchor ships-- ”  He shrugged, a hopeless expression on his face. 

Eva nudged her glass back toward the bartender.  She couldn’t remember exactly the details about these two guys and their crews, but she knew getting blind drunk with them was like a bloodpact, but less messy.  Kareena gave her a knowing look and slid another glass down toward her.  Eva tilted it toward her face and sniffed.

Tonic water only. 

Eva raised her glass to her, “And one for yourself.”  Kareena snorted and got herself a real drink.  Eva noted that she kept sending full-strengths down toward Gingerbeard and the one-eyed Arconan (who she’d privately started to refer to as the Cyclops).  “What about you?” she said, turning slightly toward the Arconan.

He trilled in amsuement as he had earlier. “My crew are mostly women; they’d follow you just for existing.  Arconan men are used to their women being wild and taking the lead on these ventures – I’m the strange one in my culture for being out here rather than at home with my children.”  He sipped his drink, pacing himself far better than Gingerbeard had.  “Do you have any?”

Eva nearly choked on her drink.  “Children or strange men?”

The Cyclops tilted his head toward her, considering.  “Both.”

Before Eva could start to engineer her extrication from this situation, a glint of metal in a curved mirror over the bar caught her eye.  Parley required that all weapons be surrendered at the door.  She watched a few moments longer to make sure that this wasn’t some shiny fabric or an overcompensating belt buckle. 

No, she knew a blaster when she saw one.  Poor choice on that bloke’s part if he was trying to be stealthy.  Maybe he was.  Maybe he didn’t care.

She cleared her throat and put her tonic water to the side.  Hands flat to the bar, she said in a slightly elevated voice.  “Barkeerp.  Angel shot?”

Kareena’s head snapped up. She knew the code.

So did the Cyclops.  “I apologize, I mean no disrespect or –”

“No, don’t apologize. Flirt harder and make a scene,” Eva hissed.  Then, to Kareena as she walked over, “You know a variation of the shot?  The Avenging Angel?”

“If you tell me how, I’ll make it,” Kareena said just loud enough for those around them to hear.  She leaned in to hear Eva as did the Arconan, who put a spindly, clawed hand to the small of her back. Gingerbeard was too far into his cups to notice.

“You tell me what, if anything, the human in the blue, far side of the room, is drinking,” Eva asked. 

Kareena pulled out a shot glass as if to prepare a drink, her eyes racing around the room to find Eva’s mark.  “Oh, he’s drinking all right,” she answered, hands blindly assembling the shot.  “He’s not with you?”

Eva pulled back slightly away from the Cyclops’ nose.  “Not with my crew.  Nor his,” he supplied.  “Breaking parley is punishable –”

“I don’t think these guys care for punishment by your code or any other,” Eva grumbled.  She looked to Kareena, her most charming expression worn.  “Avenging Angel shot, please.  I don’t need a rescue.”

Kareena’s shoulders slumped. “Not this shit again.”

“Totally, this shit, again,” Eva answered.  “Now pass me your security piece.”  Kareena rolled her eyes and ducked below the bar.  To the Cyclops, Eva turned slightly.  “So, what do you think is the curve on the mirror? 130 degrees?”

The Cyclops shrugged.  “135, maybe?”

Kareena reappeared and slid Eva a blaster.  “I hate you, officially.”  Then she disappeared back below the bar. 

“135, it is, then,”  Eva replied airily as she angled the blaster and shot at the mirror.

The blaster bolt hit the mirror and ricocheted.  Shrieks went up as those at the parley saw it, but the intended target never moved; it struck him square in the gut.  He crumbled to the floor, his own blaster clattering into the view of everyone there.  Akaavi sprang on it and had a boot to the man’s neck almost immediately. 

Eva turned to look at her mark.  To the Cyclops:  “Should have gone 130.”  To Akaavi, as she rose from her seat, “Check him for identifying marks.”  Eva backed herself up against the wall to the side of the bar, dark eyes gleaming.  The occupants of the rooftop bar were stunned, silent. 

Akavi’s hands were swift as they pawed through the man’s pockets and around his shirt, seeking some sign of affiliation, her foot remaining on his neck the entire time. The pool of blood grew around him, and whatever noises of pain he made gradually faded away.  Finally, with a tear of fabric, Akaavi straightened back up.  The man’s breast pocket was now in her hand, and she showed it to Eva, silent.

The insignia pin she’d seen at Katalla – this man had one.  He was a Revanite. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, sentients of all ages – grab your nearest friend that has that on them.”

A mad scramble, and everyone pulled their concealed weapons.  Eva flipped Kareena’s security blaster, safety on, over the side of the side of the bar.  Then she jerked her own blasters from her back holsters, under her coat.

The Cyclops drew his own long-barrel blaster from within the voluminous folds of his cape. Gingerbeard finally seemed to register the course of events and rolled off his barstool to take cover and draw his blaster from a hidden compartment in his boot.

Yeah, like anyone on Rishi was going to a parley truly unarmed.  Visibly unarmed was far more reasonable and believable. 

That was Eva’s last thought before the blaster fire started to fly through Rishi’s night sky. 

**

The ping of a blaster bolt off his helmet indicated to Gronn that things were not going the way he was told to expect. 

His orders were to wait for a clear shot on Eva.  He hadn’t had one.  First, she had that beskar vest on.  She got smart after the other night with Beryl.  He knew why she didn’t wear it around here, usually; too heavy for constant use, plus she was around water.  She’d sink straight to the bottom with it.  Now that someone had taken a shot at her – a serious shot – she wore it.  Second, Akaavi was studious as hell; she knew the angles of the surrounding rooftops. 

And then a firefight had exploded on the roof, nearly decapitating him from his vantage point a block away.  Gronn dropped to his stomach and peered through his scope.

Great Creator, what a mess.  Eva looked hot, as usual.  There were bodies –   A face caught his eye.

Then another.

Revanites.  He knew them.  He’d seen them on Dromund Kaas.

There was a body down near the bar.  Shirt ripped.  Akaavi was nearby, the trophy tucked into her belt as she lay down some covering fire for Eva and two friends, men that were old enough to be her father – or at least old enough to be leading a pirate crew and be smart enough to remain alive on this world. 

She’d won their favor just in time to flush out a pile of Novas. 

But their presence at this parley wasn’t part of the plan that he was told about.

An icy claw clutched at his heart.  Trant had been right.  He had lost the faith of his sect leader.  He didn’t trust him to do the job. 

Now Gronn didn’t know who was coming after Eva.  Was he the backup now?  Or was there something else?

And now Gronn had to wonder whether someone would be hunting him in due course, since he’d outlived his usefulness.  That didn’t bug him so much.

He’d made arrangements.  Mako would be safe.  He could live – or die – with that.

**

Bowdaar turned his face up toward the night sky as bolts of lights arced from the roof in all directions.  “Party started.”

Guss whined, “Don’t you dare go charging up there.  I’m vulnerable.” 

“You made the big drop with the Scorpions – gave them too much, but that means they’ll be in too much of a stupor to do anything tonight.  The hard part is done.”  Bowdaar scoffed, but he also keep looking upward, wishfully.  “Akaavi must be having so much fun up there.”

“Hey, attention down here.”  The streets of Rishi were now dark.  The lights on signs were in ill-repair, and their light mostly failed to reach the streets.  Guss and Bowdaar stood at the edge of the Blaster’s Path’s front, at the mouth of the alley that took them back toward the staff entrance and kitchens.

Guss was an awful drug dealer.  Too nervy.  Bowdaar would never go into business with him if this smuggling gig ever ended.  He personally couldn’t see it; his captain was born a smuggler and she’d die one, if she had anything to say about it.

His ears picked up familiar footsteps, albeit faster than usual.  He could also hear the distinctive, soft noise a lightsaber hilt made as it tapped the thigh of its owner. 

Then a blaster shot singed the fur on his left arm and hit the wall behind him and Guss.

Guss cursed in Mon Cal and whipped out his own blaster to return fire, blowing one pirate’s head clean off.  Fish Man did have some skills, as much as he tried to cover them in cowardice and laziness.  Bowdaar reeled around and drew his blade.  A small group was trying to rush their door.  He caught one darting a glance upward.

There were more invitees to the party.

With a roar, Bowdaar leapt into the midst of them, slashing an arm here, felling a leg there.  His blood sang with the rhythm of battle.   

More came.  It was as Bowdaar spun through his last man not only that more pirates were charging him, but also that another group was approaching the far side of the Blaster’s Path, angling to get in through the kitchen entrance.  He howled at Guss, “Kitchen!”

Guss’s round eyes had already rolled in that direction, and he started to run toward the intruders, firing his blaster to dissuade them from entering the door.  He tried to draw them toward him and Bowdaar instead.

They pried the door open and began to flood in –

Then a blaster bolt from further down the alley felled the man first in line.  The second turned and fired, blind.

His bolt was batted away by a red lightsaber as if it were nothing.

To her, it was nothing.  Swift footfalls, and then a dark cloaked figure leapt into the air, neatly spearing the man who’d shot at her, then dispatching the third with a neat slash.

Lana Beniko. 

The blaster from the far end of the alley dispatched the last two pirates that had been poised to crash through.  As the last body fell, a now-familiar frame came into Bowdaar’s field of vision. 

Theron Shan. 

The two spies surveyed their handiwork as Guss and Bowdaar went to meet them.  Bowdaar pointed up at the roof.  “They’re already in, some of them.”

“You have far larger concerns.  We suspect they’ve planted a bomb on site.”  Lana switched off her lightsaber and holstered it. 

Guss groaned. “Not my night.  How big?”

“Big enough to leave a crater,” Theron answered, bluntly.  “Where’s Eva?”

Bowdaar pointed up toward the roof again.

Theron looked skyward, watching the light show that had erupted on the roof.  “Figures.”  He ran a hand over his implants.  “Why isn’t she answering?”

“Probably busy right now.  Plus you had her on ‘read’ on all day.”  Guss nudged one of the bodies with his foot. 

Lana visibly bristled.  “After last night, I’d think that was uncalled for.”  She glared at Theron.

Theron scowled at her and Guss in rapid succession.  “Not what you think.  Who’s with her?”

“Akaavi,” Guss replied. 

“She’ll answer me,” Bowdaar growled as he activated a well-hidden earpiece.  “She is also the most skilled at bomb-making.” 

From:  Bacca

To:  ShriekHawk

CC: Crown

Party has uninvited guest – your specialty.  Help Crown find it?

“We don’t have much time.  Who else is here?” Lana inquired.

Guss looked back toward the front of the building.  “Risha and Corso, but they’re …busy.  They’re supposed to keep everyone’s attention here so they don’t bother you guys.”

“Change of plans.  Get them to start searching the place.  Try to push people out.” 

Bowdaar cast a critical eye at the size of the cantina.  “More need to search the building.”  He gestured at Guss and Lana.  “One needs to prevent more from going in.”  He pointed at himself.

His comm unit buzzed.

From:  ShriekHawk

To: Bacca, Crown

EC busy with new friends.  Moths to flame.  Rats off the ship for the dance. 

I have her wrist comm.

Bowdaar bayed up at the roof in frustration.  She would, wouldn’t she?

“What?”  Guss asked. 

“Eva is trying to draw the Revanites out – get them on the rooftop to dispatch them.  She’s already sent Akaavi down to help Risha and Corso keep people here to let the safehouses be raided. And Akaavi has her comm unit.”

“Why does she have that?” Lana asked.

Bowdaar shrugged.  “Could have gotten in the way – shot off?  It could have been distracting Eva and she passed it off.” 

The Wookiee noticed Theron shift his weight and frown.  “I’ll go up, see if I can meet Akaavi on the way, get word to Eva to get out of here.  The rest of you try to find the bomb.”

And then he was off through the kitchen door.

Guss leaned back slightly and gave Lana’s sleeve a quick tug, dropping the fabric almost immediately as if it would burn him.  “C’mon.  We need to find Risha and Corso and spring her.  How do you feel about feathers?”

Lana stared at Guss, unsure of how to respond. 

Bowdaar barked, “Get moving.”

Lana and Guss didn’t hesitate anymore.  They headed back up to the front of the alley to enter the Blaster’s Path through the main entrance.

Bowdaar was alone outside the cantina now.  He let out a puff of breath, followed by a whine.  He’d live another day.  He hoped everyone else did as well. 

He also wondered what Lana was going to think of the fan dance.

Chapter Text

Theron shoved his way through the steamy kitchen, heading toward what he thought was a back staircase up to the rooftop bar. At least that’s what his analysis of the cantina’s floor plans had turned up. He got a few dirty looks from the line chefs, but with his blaster drawn, they weren’t inclined toward voicing their grievances. 

The Blaster’s Path was one of the larger cantinas on Rishi, and tonight was set to be one of the busiest nights of their year.  The kitchen was sprawling.  As Theron thought he’d reached the end of it, he found himself in a second extension.  His feet slowed as he tried to gauge where the hell was that door that went upstairs. 

Theron came to a complete halt before the third kitchen line, where completed orders sat waiting.  He watched as a flock of servers came by, swept through, and grabbed every plate on the elevated shelf before disappearing back out into the cantina…

… except one. He broke away from the group and took a hard turn right and disappeared through a separate door. 

Theron had mostly forgotten to eat that day. 

Theron paused just long enough for another round of dishes to be placed on the kitchen line, then with his free hand, he grabbed an unsuspecting kebab off a plate, and then he was off to find out whether that waiter was going to lead him up to the roof. 

He heard a few angry slurs behind his back, but the blaster in his other hand thwarted any actual reaction. 

Theron passed through the doorway and found the lights dimmer and the stair case far narrower than the aisles of the kitchen.  He could hear the steady tread of the waiter ahead of him, and he patiently kept his distance, making quick work of his improvised dinner. He tucked the leftover stick behind his ear; better to police it than leave it on the floor and give away his presence. 

Suddenly, ahead of him, Theron heard the waiter sputter and then squawk, a massive crash erupting as the man’s entire platter of dishes fell to the floor and started to slide down the steps toward Theron.  Voices rang out, confused and angry.  Theron tucked himself into a darkened corner of the nearest landing just in time to miss being run over by a group of pirates who didn’t have the taste for a firefight this evening.  He heard them cursing, alternating between blaming the Nova Blades and the Red Hulls. 

Theron was on the right track.  He pitched his hearing implants to capture noise further up the steps and waited.  If people were running down the stairs, it would make sense if they were running from something that could be pursing them.  He wasn’t keen to find out what that was via collision.

It took about a minute, then a steady, confident pair of feet made their way down.  They moved with speed, but nothing was frantic about them. 

Theron crouched slightly to look up the stairs.  “Akaavi,” he whispered as loud as he dared.

She stopped as she cautiously readied her tech staff.  Theron hastily stepped forward into a bit more light and he said her name again.  Now she could see him.  “Agent Shan.”

“She up there still?”  Theron pointed with his blaster up the stairs.

“Yes.  We were separated – couldn’t give her back her wrist comm. Bomb still not located?”  Akaavi reached into a pocket and pulled out Eva’s wrist comm.  She offered it to Theron, who quickly took it.

“No word.”

“If I planted it, I would put it in the basement.”  Theron caught the phrasing and tone; Akaavi, indirectly, sought his professional opinion. 

“That would be logical.  But I think the Revanites have a flair for the dramatic.” He peered up the stairs, where plenty of drama had apparently occurred.

“Somewhere more visible then – less effective but a bigger statement.”  Akaavi’s green eyes danced slightly back and forth as she contemplated the issue.  “I have an idea.  Make sure the Captain stays alive.” 

With that, Akaavi shot down the stairs swiftly.  Theron watched her turn a hard corner on the staircase before taking the set of steps two at a time.

**

Guss wove his way through the crowd within the cantina, and Lana struggled to keep up; she was used to the people parting to create a path for her in the Empire.  On Rishi, she was just a woman in strange clothes. 

It was strangely refreshing.  Lana could understand the appeal of blending into a crowd, being anonymous… something she as a Force User simply could not do in the Sith Empire, even if she had wanted to. Even if her parents had wanted her to.

As they approached the bar, manned by a fellow Mon Cal, Guss stopped in his tracks and spoke to her.  “Uhm.  Lana.  Stay here a second.  My type of people are a cowardly lot, and you being a statuesque blonde Imp doesn’t help.”

“I can keep my mouth shut,” Lana offered.  How else would they tell that she was from the Empire?”

Guss shook his head.  “It’s not just the voice you got going on here, lady. Give me a few minutes.”

Guss finally made his way to the bar of the cantina and spoke to the bartender, a fellow Mon Cal.  They spoke in their language as Lana kept her head up.  Her attention was drawn toward the stage, where the band normally played.  Tonight, it had been commandeered by the pirates of Rishi  under parley, a temporary peace agreement.  A yearly custom, the pirate gangs would do something other than shoot at each other. 

Lana cringed slightly as she listened to one young man warble along to a band tuned half a note flat, with a drummer clearly in a different time signature than everyone else.  She observed those around her for a moment.

When in Dromund Kaas…

Lana effortlessly snagged a drink off a passing tray and downed it in a gulp.  And with that, the stage show sounded much improved. 

Guss appeared to get the information he needed off the bartender and waved her toward him to follow.  Lana abandoned her glass on a table and squeezed through the tight throng of people to catch up to him.  They slipped through a doorway partially covered by a tattered and worn drape, only to find themselves faced with another door. 

Guss peered around Lana to make sure they weren’t being followed and then tapped out a rhythmic knock.  As Lana recalled, it was the syncopated patter that Eva had used to signal her presence at their safehouse.   A brief silence ensued, and then a cautious completion of the knock came from the other side.  “Risha, Corso, it’s me.”

“Are you idiots joking about a bomb?” came the irritated answer from Risha. 

“Nope.  Akaavi’s on her way down.”

“Who’s with you?”  Corso asked.

“Lana.  Bowie’s outside keeping watch.  Spy Guy went to the roof.”

Corso grumbled, and it sounded as if he drew away from the door.

“Of course he did.  It isn’t as if he knows anything about bombs.” The sarcasm rolled off Risha in waves.  She made a good point, however.

Slightly distant, Lana could hear Corso speak to Risha.  “Point is, Cap doesn’t know about the bomb,” Corso reminded her.  “If Akaavi didn’t go back to get her and give her back her wrist comm, I’m thinking there’s a reason.”

Guss waved his hands at the door.  “Are you going to help us look?”

Risha snorted, “No, I’m going to savor the show and my last moments on this godforsaken planet.  What are you going to do?”

“Mmmm, that was my idea, since everyone else is way more competent than I am.”

Risha groaned from the other side of the door.  “Start in the basement, work your way back up.  When Akaavi gets here, we’ll figure out other possibilities.  Now move – you two are probably obvious, especially her with the lightsaber.”

Lana pressed her lips into a thin line as she self-consciously ran a hand over her holster.  It was far less obvious than it previously was – she wanted to inform Risha of that, but she kept a civil tongue in her head.  “To the cellar then.  If we find it, we’ll signal Akaavi via Holotext?”

There was no reply on the other side of the door. 

Guss cleared his throat.  “Nerves.  It was meant to be the main distraction… still has to be unless we want a stampede on top of a bomb.”

“One more complication.”  Lana surveyed the packed room before her.  The main floor was full.  There was at least one floor below and one above, plus the roof.  The Nova Blades were quite content to eradicate their friends and rivals alike to get at the Red Hulls. 

A thought occurred to Lana.  “Guss, why not call upon the Ash Angel and her crew?”

Guss shook his head so hard his eyes bulged, and he began to move quickly through the cantina toward the staircase down to the lower bar and probably the cellar entrance. 

He waited for her to catch up at the top of the stairs.  “Bad business to have other crews in on your job.  Especially when your boss already asked and their boss already said no.”

“For what reason?” Lana asked. “He went with her –”

 “Gronn’s never been the most dependable guy in the galaxy – and that’s coming from me.”  Guss rotated his eyes around before beginning his descent, motioning Lana to stay in step with him. 

Yes, the details must have been egregious if even Guss Tuno, for all his flaws, couldn’t like someone.  Lana gave Guss one last look as they descended into the realm of the Blaster’s Path’s lower bar. 

**

“You know, dying an old man in my bed is over-rated,” pronounced Gingerbeard as he sat hip to hip with Eva and the Cyclops behind Kareena’s long-abandoned bar.  He was flushed and sweaty, but he’d had fun for the first time in ages on Rishi.                                                                    

“That’s your opinion. I’d like to make it home in as few pieces as possible,” the Cyclops retorted.

“If either of you could pass me a sugar cube, I can die in peace knowing I drank top-shelf liquor that’s probably worth the bounty on at least one of us.”  Eva was attempting to temper some obnoxiously rare, expensive, and delicious absinthe with water and had realized, at this critical moment, she was missing the sugar. 

Gingerbeard guffawed and passed it over without a fight. “You seem awful cool for someone trapped on a roof with two old dogs and a horde of enemies.” 

Eva placidly started the process of dripping the water through the sugar in a slotted spoon she’d scrounged from the dishwasher.  “We’ve killed a lot of them now.  They’re wondering whether we’re worth it.  Your crews and mine have left, but they don’t know how many people are back here.  Could be all of them.  Could be just us.  Or no one, if you wanted to creep down the stairs for a snack.”  Eva looked straight up at he mirror over the bar, carefully angled to see across the room.  Yep, the surviving Novas were still there.

Cyclops shook his head. “This action is too good to miss, after so long of watching them push their way around the planet.”  

“Hey, I got the bottle open – you want one, too?”  Eva gestured at the absinthe.

The Cyclops and Gingerbeard exchanged a quick look before opting in.

Despite her elevated state of being, some time later, Eva managed to hear someone creeping up the steps, cautiously.  With a slight objection from the alcohol sloshing in her stomach, Eva forced herself up to her hands and knees and began to crawl toward the end of the bar, just so she could get a visual and a shot at whoever came up the stairs next.  She brought her glass of absinthe with her – hell if she was going to leave it in trust with those old soaks.

Finally, the source of the noise emerged into view, crawling up the steps to maintain cover.  Eva crooked a grin in anticipation as she recognized the hair that rose over the edge of the staircase.

And this was how Theron Shan found Eva: back against the edge of the bar, blaster in one hand pointed at him, glass of electric green absinthe in the other. 

“Well, don’t you look cozy,” he whispered as he slithered across the floor to the safe cover of the bar. 

“There’s more where this came from,” Eva offered.  She pointed a thumb over toward the middle of the bar, where Gingerbeard and the Cyclops each raised a glass at her, but then went back to marveling at the green liquid still in the bottle and whether they should dare each other to actually eat the bit of wormwood still in the bottle (which was probably there for show). 

Theron shook his head in polite refusal and cut straight to business as he sat up across from her against the back wall of the bar.  “There’s a bomb, somewhere in this building.  Triacetone triperoxide – that, or, as Lana says, the Revanites are going to start moonlighting as beauticians.”

Eva burst into giggles, despite her very best efforts at staying serious for Theron’s sake.  

“You’ve had a good night. Made friends?” he observed.

“And influenced people.  Revanites don’t have much in terms of allies anymore.”  Eva tipped her head back slightly to indicate the bodies that were scattered across the rooftop.  “The Novas’ days are numbered here, but we’ve also had the pleasure of killing a lot of pin-wearing Revanites.” 

Theron frowned. “They’re not hiding anymore.”

“Well, darling, a bomb isn’t exactly a subtle message either.” Eva took another sip of the absinthe.

Theron seemed to be unable to stop a smile, no matter how slight and brief, at the sound of the endearment.  “That’s another thing.  I don’t think all of the Novas are on the same page as the believers.  The latter are willing to decimate their own numbers now.  I think they’re nearing their endgame — whatever that is.”

Theron and Eva regarded each other silently.  The end meant something good for them, if they both managed to get out of it alive. But that was a very large “if.”  He spoke first.  “We need to get out of here.”

As if the universe had heard him and laughed, the sound of footsteps crept along the edges of the roof.  The pair leaned around the side of the bar.

Not only had a small team of Nova-presenting pirates scaled the side of the building, several had touched down by use of personal jet pack. All seemed to be looking for the troublesome captain of the Red Hulls.  Eva scowled. “I’m having flashbacks to Nar Shaddaa.”

“So that’s how that started.” Theron had only come into the chase halfway through. Eva never had asked him how he’d found her.

Now wasn’t the time either. Theron cocked his head to the side and listened, intently. He turned around to look at the stairwell that led downstairs and cursed.

“I take it we got imminent company.”

“We’re in a less than optimal position,” Theron conceded. 

Smoothly, Eva shotgunned the last of her absinthe, then she reached into the interior pocket of her coat.  Her fingers wrapped around a few small canisters. Carefully running the pads of her fingers around their shells, she calculated how much of each she needed before pulling them out. 

With no further conversation, she lobbed them down the stairs, Theron’s arm coming up a split-second too late to stop her.  He sighed at her as they watched both the flash bang and the smoke grenades go off.  Eva looked down toward her new friends waved a hand.  The two captains acknowledged with continued sipping of their drinks.  “We’re on the clock.” 

Theron grimaced.  “Yeah, we are now.” He paused to listen to the confusion. “They’re hailing their friends downstairs — bomb went off early? Is this an abort?”

Across the room, Eva could distantly hear the Nova Blades trying to hail their compatriots downstairs. Getting on her feet, she bent over to  carefully peer through half-empty bottles to see their lips move. “Friends up here overheard that — what bomb?”

Theron crawled to her side then imitated her awkward stance. He flinched, but made no sound. “They’re confused. Arguing amongst themselves now.”  Theron’s eyes danced back and forth as he thought through the situation. “This might work out if the unconverted Nova Blades can figure out they’re bantha fodder to the Revanites.” 

“We just let them kill each other.”  Eva turned to Theron, their eyes meeting. With a shared nod, they dropped back to the floor and crawled back toward Gingerbeard and the Cyclops. 

Gingerbeard noticed Theron’s presence immediately.  “Friend of yours?”  He gestured at Theron with his now-empty glass of absinthe.  The Cyclops silently turned his one marble blue eye toward him.

Theron cut in before Eva could answer. “I was never here.”

The two captains bobbed their heads, sagely.  “Just as well, I don’t think any of us remember each other’s names at this point,” quipped the Cyclops. 

“It appears that the Nova Blades are at least two factions with different goals.  I think we can get off this roof and let them resolve their internal issues on their own,” Eva suggested.

Gingerbeard looked down at himself, then over at the end of the bar that was far from the staircase.  “I’m not exactly aer- aero—hell, I don’t fly. How do you think I’m getting down, three stories up?”

Theron’s left hand went up to swipe at the implants on his temple.  His eyes unfocused as he seemed to study the plans for the rest of the cantina.  “Fire escape.  They might have obscured it, but it’s up here, somewhere.”

The argument among the Nova Blades on the stairs and the Nova Blades on the rooftop seemed to reach a peak as yelling erupted.  A few moments later, the Nova Blades on the stairs charged up, ignoring the four huddled figures behind the bar as they went to confront their former allies, blasters already out and firing.

Before Eva could stop him, Theron popped open the half-door that closed off the bar on the side away from the staircase.  He only cast one hasty look before he darted across the aisle to hug the far wall.  Eva’s heart jumped as he made it, staying down in a crouch.  He began to edge down, his back to the wall, to try to find that fire escape.  The management had probably hidden it behind an elaborate planter or an ill-placed table.  He kept his blaster up and drawn, checking behind him as he went.  The Nova Blades were too busy fragging each other to notice him.

Eva forced herself to keep breathing as she watched Theron search.  If she forgot to breathe, she’d take a deep breath, and any small noise might attract attention back here, and that would put him in danger –

Eva didn’t like the thought of that, not even for a second, not even if that was part of his job.  She really wanted this op to be over.

**

Akaavi knocked furtively on the stage door.  The familiar pattern was rapped back.  “Let me in.  The package is here.” 

A momentary pause, then Risha hastily yanked the door open.  Akaavi stepped inside, and the door closed promptly. “Why--?”

“What sends the bigger message?   A hidden bomb --?”

“Or one that blows up the Red Hulls right in the middle of their act.”  Risha’s quick mind had filled in the rest.  “We need to be fast.  It’s almost our slot.” 

“Is Corso ready to go?” 

“Yes.”

**

At last, Theron waved them over.  He’d found the fire escape.  Eva let each of her hands drop onto the nearest shoulder of Gingerbeard and the Cyclops.  She nudged them forward.  She’d follow.  Eva watched as the two men crossed the floor and began the anxious trek toward Theron.  Eva cast a final look around the bar to make sure she wasn’t leaving anything mission critical behind. 

The security blaster panel was still open.  After Eva had flipped the blaster over the side of the bar, Kareena had shoved it into the hiding spot, then fled the scene without closing it.  Eva thought she should close that up so some yahoo didn’t try to rob the next bartender on shift.

Eva’s eyes kept wandering back toward the remains of several bottles that the captains had drained while bunkering down.  “Ah, hell, my conscience.”  She rifled through her coat and tried to estimate the fair market value of the absinthe.  It’d come out of Kareena’s paycheck if she didn’t.  A fist full of credits was hastily dumped on top of the blaster in the security panel, and then Eva shut it---

And then the door to the rest of the room shut in front of her with an audible ‘thud’ and ‘click’ of the automatic lock.  The lighting over the bar itself shifted slightly, from a red shade to a green one…Eva hadn’t noticed the shift when the fight first started. 

The angry voices and coinciding blaster fire tapered off. 

Footsteps drew near her hiding place behind the bar.

Risha was right.  Curse her do-gooder tendencies.

**

Guss grumbled.  Nothing. Lana had finished her survey of the dark cellar with the assistance of her lightsaber. No bomb, no crates in disarray, zilch.  The pair climbed the stairs to the main floor, passing the lower bar they’d already checked. 

The comm links had been silent.  Not good.

As Lana and Guss emerged on the main floor, an announcer’s voice rang out across the room.  “Now, the Red Hulls’ debut on the fine stage of the Blaster’s Path.  Tonight, they offer a Karuki dance from the hot sands of Tatooine. Let’s give Phoenix a warm welcome.”

Lana turned her heard toward the stage as a pair of shapely legs strolled onto the stage, the rest of the dancer’s body and face obscured by two large fans made of brilliant red feathers.  Hoots and hollers erupted from the crowd.  Guss watched as both blonde eyebrows rose toward her hairline.

Well, she and Spy Guy had asked for a distraction. 

Guss watched the stage for a few moments before nudging Lana. “I’m gonna go talk to my friend at the bar.  Need to figure out something.”  He cast another glance up at the stage, his large eyes rolling. 

Lana nodded. “What do you need me to do out here?”

Guss fidgeted.  “You could message Bowdaar and keep him company.  Mostly just make sure nothing happens to Phoenix up there.  Cap would kill me if some idiot in the audience got –” 

A small shriek and then a man yelling in Quarrenese gutterspeak caught Guss’s attention.  Some poor Mon Cal waitress had spilled something on the Quarren, who towered over her by at least a meter.  Guss growled.  They might have come from the same planet, but that didn’t make Mon Calamari and Quarren friends. “Change in plans.  First her, then the bartender.”

“I suppose chivalry isn’t dead?” Lana teased him.

Guss shrugged. “It’d be more chivalrous if I didn’t know she probably had at least three sisters.”  He pointed toward one of the kitchen doors, where three sets of eyes were peering out, watching the waitress cower before the Quarren.   “Anyway, later.”

And off he went. 

**

“Now, the Red Hulls’ debut on the fine stage of the Blaster’s Path.  Tonight, they offer a Karuki dance from the hot sands of Tatooine. Let’s give Phoenix a warm welcome.”

Akaavi sat perched on the edge of a lighting boom.  As the lights onstage came up below her, casting her into shadow, her suspicions were confirmed. 

The Revanites had managed to wedge the bomb behind a piece of movable scenery on one of the upper tracks.  When the timing was right, it would descend down onto the stage, right behind the fan dancer. 

Akaavi heard the ladder behind her being climbed by familiar feet.  Apparently, her hard stare conveyed the necessary information.  “You got a visual?”

“Yes.”  Akaavi held her right hand out behind her, blindly requesting the tool kit she knew her partner carried. 

“Let’s make this quick then.”  The toolkit was placed in Akaavi’s hand, opened to the holsters for wirecutters and a digital slicer. These tools were universally used for such a delicate operation. 

The unsaid plan was to disarm it and leave it in place.  It far too large for them to attempt to carry it or even roll it with any control.

Suddenly, the door on the opposite side of the stage swung open.  Akaavi froze where she sat, green eyes glowing bright.  The familiar flash of metal made Akaavi growl despite her efforts at trying to remain silent for the sake of the dancer below.  No missteps, tonight of all nights.

Gronn.

Her companion cursed behind her.  The music covered their noise, but they knew Gronn’s helmet was outfitted with additional sensors; he might not be able to hear them, but he could see them through their heat signatures.  And indeed, he tilted his head up, as if he had heard them. A slight jerk of the helmet meant that he’d also seen the bomb, the chemicals within already heating to critical temperature.

That thought caused Akaavi to check her anger for now and get to work.  They didn’t have time for this nonsense.

The familiar sound of a jetpack on low hover caused Akaavi’s task to be interrupted gain.  Gronn had floated himself up to the other end of the boom, and now he shimmied toward her in a crouch.

Before she could say anything, he spoke.  “You can’t disarm it.  It’s rigged to go off with no failsafe.”  The modular rasped as he attempted to whisper.  “Help me cut it loose.”

“And then what?” Akaavi hissed.

“Fly up and out.”

The safety of a blaster clicked off from behind Akaavi.  Instinctively, she leaned out of the trajectory for the shot as best she could; it was close quarters up here.  “No. You’re not flying off with that thing.  We can disarm it.”

Gronn’s modulator crackled in frustration.  “You’re wasting time –”

“How the hell do you know if we can’t disarm it?”  The blaster and its owner took a step forward, making the boom sway slightly.  “Were you a Revanite?  Or ARE you a Revanite?  She thought you were done.”

“She didn’t ask.”

Akaavi reached silently for the chain that kept the boom attached to the ceiling, trying to keep it from moving too much – the last thing they needed was for that thing to hit the stage while they squabbled twenty feet up. 

“Goddamn you.  You’re not good for her.”

Akaavi ignored the argument and delicately opened the panel that had been used to set the bomb in the first place.  Carefully using the back end of her slicer as a guide, Akaavi followed the wires to and from the various parts of the bomb.

“As if any man is, unless he can pay you or buy you something.”

Main explosive.  Timer.  Detonator. 

Gronn was lying.

“Fuck you,” Risha snapped.  “Get the hell out of here.”

Akaavi flipped the slicer around, but she stopped as something shiny caught in the chrome finish as she moved it.  She flipped it around again.  And again.

Oh.

In one fluid movement, Akaavi yanked her boot knife out, stood and hacked off one side of the bomb’s straps, causing it to swing toward Gronn.  His reflexes swift, he procured his own vibroknife to cut the remaining ties and grab onto it. 

As he activated his jetpack to take the weight, Risha fired before Akaavi’s forearm came crashing down on hers. 

Eva was consistently the best shot of them all, but when angry, Risha’s marksmanship improved.  She hit Gronn square in the chest, the kick of the blast sending him and the bomb back into the far wall.

Enraged, Risha turned her head – but not her firearm – toward Akaavi, demanding an explanation. 

The Zabrak condensed the explanation – a specialized discussion of wiring materials and failsafes was best saved for another night.  “Breaking the circuit sets it off too.  He’s right.”

The women turned to watch Gronn fire up his jetpack.  How was he –

“Gronn!”  Akaavi yelled for him.  The helmet appeared to look toward her, but she was not sure if he could hear her over the din of his pack, the beginning of the music’s final crescendo, and the increasingly raucous crowd as the fan dance reached peak scandal.  “She’s on the roof.”

Akaavi thought he might have nodded, but she wasn’t sure.  All too quickly, Gronn shot straight up through the ceiling, punching a hole into the bar on the floor above.  The ceiling was cheaply finished, and debris began to rain down on the stage below.

Looking up, Akaavi could see people above them trying to escape the widening hole on their floor. She heard the screams of surprise.

No time to think of that now.

Almost in unison, Akaavi and Risha jumped to safety, grabbing onto the ladder attached to the floor and wall.  The boom’s chains lost their mooring in the ceiling, and the long cylinder crashed down onto the stage below.

As she tightened her grip, Akaavi scanned the floor below for the fan dancer, but she couldn’t see for all the dust and cheap wood.

Risha coughed as she managed to choke out.  “We have to get out of here.  Move.” 

Akaavi managed to swing her legs onto the rungs below her and began a rapid slide downward, Risha right above her and pursuing.  

The party was over.

**

The lights over the bar turned green, suddenly, and Theron heard the locks on the bar door clamp down.  The Nova Blades noticed, and after a brief discussion, eyes on the bar, a small delegation of both the bar group and the stair group began a slow approach.

Not good.

Theron composed a quick holotext to Jakarro

If you were planning to

Suddenly, there was a flash and then a rumbling noise from the far side of Raider’s Cove. 

Never mind then.  Theron canceled the message, then turned to look at the two captains.  “I’ll get her.  Go.”  The Arconan and the human began their descent down the fire escape without another word.

Theron checked on the Nova Blades.  Their backs were turned toward him, conversation revolving around “Isn’t that our safe house?”  “Did someone leave the oven on?”  and other related concepts.

He couldn’t hesitate and he didn’t.  Two steps, a deep knee bend, and Theron launched himself over the edge of the bar, turning a smooth somersault midair as he touched down on the narrow strip of floor behind the bar.  He landed in a crouch, one hand’s fingers splayed on the floor to stabilize himself.  His smirk was uncontrollable; he didn’t need the Force to do that trick.  Since she wasn’t in front of him, Theron turned to look over his shoulder.

Eva stared at him, silent, like a little owl, eyes wide open. “Jedi kid,” he supplied, taking more than a bit of pride in the execution.

She broke their shared gaze to look up over the bar.  The Nova Blades were still talking amongst themselves.  “What stopped them?”

“Jakarro got bored.  What did you do?”   He turned and crawled closer to her, trying to ignore how his trousers stuck slightly to the floor.

“Replaced the security blaster and left credits so it wouldn’t come out of Kareena’s paycheck.” 

Theron sat down beside her and looked to where she pointed at the security panel, now closed.  That was the source of the light change…Theron’s shoulders slumped, and Eva shrugged at his exasperated look. “Very sweet, but very stupid,” he whispered.

“So’s coming back for me,” she volleyed quickly.  Theron’s smirk returned for the moment.  “Now what?”

“Sneak out and risk attracting their attention.  Wait here and hope they remain distracted until they leave.  We blast our way out.”   On that thought, Theron reached for both of his holstered blasters.

“Can’t get out of the bar without exposure, we might be here all night, and what’s a little bit of blaster fire between friends?” Eva paraphrased his options.  “First one, but prepared?”

Theron agreed with her final assessment.  She leaned her head on her shoulder as she shifted her sitting position on the floor.  She reached for her off-hand blaster under her coat, unhooking it from her back holster.  She’d never let the main one out of her hand since she’d finished her drinks.  Her arm and shoulder bumped up against Theron’s as they both got ready to make a risky exit.

After they’d checked their firearms, there was moment of still.  They both sat back against the wall of the bar, collecting thoughts, considering words.  Theron took the opportunity to meditate and reset himself. 

It was strange to take comfort in the fact that they’d  both been shot up before.  It wasn’t traumatic as much as it was an occupational hazard.  Hopefully, they’d both scrape through without much more than a few blaster burns like the one she got the other night.  “How’s the leg?”

“Fine.  Medic did a good job.  Nice hands.  Bet they’re even better off-duty.”  Her grin  was contagious, even in this tense situation. 

His lip curled upward. 

And then the floor burst open.  The jarring crack, the flying debris – their eyes snapped to the mirror over the bar.  All they could see was the gaping hole, and the men that been approaching the bar were swallowed.

A beat.

Then both Theron and Eva sprang up, reholstered some of their blasters (Theron couldn’t remember if he’d done one or both or if she’d done one or both), vaulted over the bar and started to make a run for the fire escape.

Even through the debris and chaos, they’d been seen. Blaster fire peppered the walls and furniture they passed.  The fairy lights that had been strung around the rooftop bar popped as the blaster fire raked them.  The lanterns caught fire and sparked. 

They didn’t think to return fire. 

A few more steps –

A few more steps –

A few more –

Eva skidded to a halt and stumbled to try to reverse herself.  Theron came to a jarring halt as he looked at her and then toward the fire escape –

Which now had Nova Blades coming up with their blasters drawn –

Theron felt Eva grab his arm and squeeze it and they scrambled to cut back ---

Theron clamped his hand over hers as he tugged her to cut across the dining area, tables and chairs overturned, food abandoned.  Whatever had been left standing was flipped as Eva and Theron tore through, trying add more obstacles to their pursuers. 

A blaster bolt whizzed right by Theron’s head – he thought he smelled his pomade catch the heat.  Then, suddenly, instead of the blaster fire flying past them, it began to ping as if off beskar.  Then a shout, an obscenity, and the shooting stopped.

Theron heard Eva’s breath catch and drift away from him – no, he was still moving, and she was not.

Theron turned around to see her staring up at Gronn, who hovered over the roof.  He’d found the bomb. 

He carried it.  He probably had to use the strength amplifiers and servos in his armor to cope with the size and weight.  Even at seven feet tall, Gronn was just a man. 

Had he known?  Was the double agent job over?  Or ongoing?

Later.  He’d deal with it later. 

Eva stood, transfixed.  She seemed to have a silent conversation with Gronn.  Maybe she reached the same conclusion he did. 

Eva’s hair whipped around her face is the draft caused by Gronn’s jetpack.  Her Red Hulls uniform had seen better days – it wasn’t the same vibrant red it had been two weeks ago.  Her hair had already started to grow out, the deep mahogany brown infringing on the riotous, faded red curls and waves.  Despite the tropical environment, she hadn’t caught much sun, but it was just enough to take the unnatural edge off the shade of spacer pale she had been. 

The one thing had not changed at all were the eyes, the ones that were deeply unsettling when flat and shark-like.  Now they were far more human and soft, but in Theron’s experience, equally dangerous.  She was asking Gronn, without words, what he was doing.

Gronn held her gaze for precious seconds before he silently waved at her with a free hand. Then he turned away and flew toward the Nova Blades.

Eva was frozen as her eyes followed Gronn’s flight path.  She knew what he was going to do.

This wasn’t a good time for stargazing. Theron could see the Revanites turn to fire at them, even as they were attempting to get out of the blast radius.  He grabbed her wrist and yanked her into a run.  “We need to go.  Now!”

That snapped her out of it, and he dropped her wrist.  The pair ran across the rooftop, leaping across the narrow alley to the next building.  Theron tried to keep rack of her footfalls and heavy breathing as his own heart raced during the sprint. “Waterfront!” he barked at her. 

“They’re coming,” he heard her yell as they crossed another narrow alley toward their target.

Eva and Theron kept going, not looking back.  Blaster fire scored the building ahead of them and to their sides; the Revanites were giving chase. 

At the last rooftop before the buildings met the ocean, Theron lost sight of her as his pace gained slightly.

She was just a step or two behind him –

As Theron turned to see her, he saw a blaster bolt arc, then hit its mark in her back.   A dull, thick ‘clang,’ and Eva stumbled forward, eyes wide open with surprise, a high-pitched gasp erupting, her hand reaching out toward him –

Theron thought this would be the ultimate inconvenient time for a heart attack.

But then a hole didn’t appear in her shirt.

The beskar vest.  She’d worn it. 

Theron’s momentary relief disappeared as quickly as it had come.  Reflexively, he grabbed that hand and saved her from falling on the roof, instead pulling her in front of him and pushing her onward, breaking his stride for only a second. 

And then the blast caused his hearing implants to automatically shut down to preserve his augmented ear drums.  He felt himself shoved forward, the last few steps toward the building’s edge massive and exaggerated.  Theron wrapped his arms around Eva as they both were lifted and blown clean off the roof by the magnitude of the explosion.

All of this happened, and Theron couldn’t hear it.

Dark water swallowed them.

**

Debris from the ruined floor above clattered on the stage.  Tiny arcs flew from the broken electrical  currents, the cords hanging down from the remaining ceiling like deadly vines.  Some swayed as the air circulation system of the cantina partially kicked on.  It was inevitable that the cords swung into the tatty curtains that had framed the stage.  A spark, the dust, and the fabric conspired, and soon the Blaster’s Path’s main stage was on fire.

And Phoenix danced on.

Lana felt as if she was glued to her spot as the surreal events unfolded.  Even as smoke rose from the floor, the fans flapped and whirled, as if the dancer didn’t notice at all.  Not once had they hesitated, and the dancer’s identity remained concealed behind them.  Sentients began to file out of the cantina, a strange calm settling over some of them.  Others started to frantically look for buckets to try to put out the fire.  Someone yelled for someone to turn off the damn breakers –

And Phoenix danced on.

A commotion in the pit below the stage, where the musicians had played a few minutes before, caused Lana to strain to see over the heads of those in front of her.  She stood on tiptoe in her boots.  It was Guss, with an oversized bedsheet and four Mon Cal waitresses.  “Hey!  Hey!  Jump!”

Phoenix only paused for a moment, as if weighing the risk of jumping into Guss’s arms versus taking chances on the burning stage.

And Phoenix danced on.

Another ruckus tumbled down the stairs. Men and women had fled the roof above, likely in the wake of something relating to Captain Corolastor, no doubt.  The entrance was wider than the staircase, acting as a bottleneck so security could keep an eye on who traveled where.  Security had long abandoned this place.   Lana’s sharp eyes noticed an livery pin on one’s collar – a symbol she had long studied so that she knew it on sight.  Theron had made sure she’d known it, if she’d run across it on her own.  Revanites.

The scene was already chaos.  Lana carefully brought her hood up to conceal her features and her distinct blonde hair, tucking the loose ends around her face in a makeshift mask.  Without warning or hesitation, Lana strode toward the unfortunate pirates caught in the jam, and her lightsaber hummed to life.

And Phoenix danced on. 

After Lana had finished dispatching the enemy agents, her yellow eyes bright and her face flushed from the exertion, she found herself nearly alone on the cantina’s main floor, the crowds gone, the stage still burning.  There yet was an audience, however, closer to the stage. They seemed mesmerized, despite their peril.  The dancer was finishing up the routine.  Whether it was an accident or an artistic choice, Phoenix’s fans had dipped into the fire and now began to burn themselves down to the handles, even as Phoenix continued to whirl.

Finally, as Guss’s yelling reached a frustrated and hoarse crescendo, the last fronds turned to ash and Phoenix cast away the fans, revealing a scanty costume to the remaining audience.

Lana’s hand flew to her mouth in shock.

It had been Corso, all along.

Before anyone could fully react to the revelation, Corso finally took Guss’s suggestion and dove off the stage toward the waiting makeshift safety net of the bedshift, held by the Mon Calamari.  Lana snapped out of her momentary shock and hastily darted out the front door, heading back toward where Bowdaar kept a lonely vigil.

Chapter Text

Theron felt the grit of sand already whirling across his exposed skin as water saturated every inch of his clothing.  He felt Eva slipping out of his arms as the weight of the beskar vest pulled her down, like an anchor.  Dully, he realized he should probably start kicking his legs or else they’d both sink to the bottom.  Eva had the same realization, and after a momentary disagreement as to what direction was up, Theron sighted the moon and propelled them toward that.

Theron was still stone deaf as he broke the surface of the water, unable to hear his own gasp as his lungs burned for air.  Eva came up a split second later, and he saw her mouth open and felt her chest press against him as she tried to breathe.  Relief rushed through him, but that was supplanted by the urgent need to find cover.  He turned, almost frantic, in all directions, trying to gauge where they were, where the enemy was.  He couldn’t see anyone or anything in the dark.  Parts of the dock nearby had caught fire.  That would attract attention.  They needed to get out of here.

Eva’s hands squeezed his shoulders, drawing his attention back to her.  She looked panicked, and her mouth tried to form words.  Dark water spilled out of her mouth.

Theron couldn’t hear himself as he tried to reassure her.  “You just got the wind knocked out of you.  You’ve got to calm – ”  Theron knew what he was saying was dumb even as it left his mouth.  They just dove off a building to avoid being blown up – calm down?  Really, Shan?  “Relax, here.”  He let his hands press against the hard weight of the beskar.  “Stay with me.”

He saw her struggle to untense enough to breathe.  She looked up at him, still alarmed.   Her lips moved, and Theron realized his hearing implants hadn’t turned back on yet.  “Kriff.  Hold on.”  Theron tensed his jaw and tried to reboot his hearing implants through his teeth. 

The water lapping at them came through first, then the crackle and sizzle of the fire on the dock. Their heavy breathing followed.  Finally, he heard her.  “Theron, you’re bleeding.” 

Theron had to let that register before he reacted.  “It’s nothing.”

Eva was already shaking her head at his rejection.  A quick hand slid from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, then pulled forward.  In the orange glow that was spreading to the docks around them, Theron could see the dark red slick on her palm.

Yeah, he was bleeding.

Even as that processed, Eva was breaking free of his grasp to try to swim around him.  He was slow to turn, and he internally cursed as another sharp little intake of breath punctuated the sensation of her hands on his back.  “Your jacket is all torn up –”

“I’m sorry, I know you just gave it to me.”  Farewell to that nice grey all-weather. 

Eva scoffed.  “Who gives a kriff about the jacket? We need to get back to the Thief, and get you into medbay.”  He heard her take an extra, gulping breath as she swam back to face him.  That beskar must be getting heavier by the second. 

“Not necessary.”  No.  Not happening.  Theron avoided looking at her directly. “Let’s get you out of the water before you sink.  I’ll patch up back at the safehouse.”

As he went to start swimming toward the nearest dock that wasn’t on fire yet, he felt Eva’s long fingers sink into the shirt below the shredded jacket.  “I’m not letting you get me home then roam the streets of Rishi with a chunk of shrapnel hanging out of your head.”

Theron shook his head.  “I’m fine.  I don’t need you to coddle me.”  It came out harsher than intended.

“I don’t think you can coddle someone who just got blown off a roof,” Eva snapped back.  He felt the water push against him as she treaded in place, and then her hands reached for him.  “You can’t reach back there by yourself,” she said firmly.  She made him look at her, gentle fingers on his jaw and cheek.  With her words, he was doomed. “Come home with me.”  Her dark eyes searched his face, trying to look for some hint or some hope that he’d agree. 

Theron had first seen her – wanted her – felt drawn to her -- when she was indignant and insistent.  She was smart enough to know the truth. She was those things here, too, as she knew damn well that his head and his back hurt, even though the fog of adrenaline and the surge of analgesics provided by his implants.  Eva was also all the warmth and compassion he’d seen in the intel he’d gathered on her...

And now she was directing it all at him, like he was something ---  

No, she’d already said he was “something else” at the cantina back on Fleet, all those long months ago.  She’d toasted him after he’d bought her drinks…. And then he’d smiled until he fell asleep that night. 

Theron had done so well on Rishi to tamp down that stupid grin when she complimented him and the thrill he got whenever she touched him.  He’d made the effort after he’d last seen her and they’d…pretended really well.  That was so dangerous.  Carrying on as they had would have been dangerous here.  Still was.

He was so compromised.  He knew it already.  “Fine.”  It came out quieter than he wanted.  Eva’s face was still concerned, but she immediately brightened up when he gave in.

He felt like she was burning right through him, even in the water.    

**

Eva swam behind Theron.  His larger body made a wake that made it easy for her to follow, despite the weight of her clothes.  Yes, that was one valid reason for following him instead of taking the lead.  The other:  she had to make sure he wouldn’t sneak off to deal with his wounds in private. He’d gotten hurt because he came for her; the least she could do was care for him, in her mind.  

Several times, they’d sheltered under a pier, waiting for drunken carousers to pass on the boards overhead.  It was during one of these moments that Eva suddenly remembered something.  “Kark.”  She immediately clamped her hand over her mouth as the feet above their heads stumbled.  Theron silently stared at her in the Rishi street lights that filtered between the slats.  “I lost my comm unit – we can’t –” she whispered.

He silently shook his head and reached into the remains of his jacket.  He fished around an interior pocket then gingerly offered it to her. She took it but waited for the people overhead to pass.  Then she reactivated it; it was waterproofed.

That was something she’d learned to do the hard way after going to Dak once with Guss.

As they tread water, Eva rapidly sent a message via her comm unit.  “Told Blizz to send over his toy this morning.  It’s technically morning.” 

“Surveillance droid?”  Theron asked, his voice muted.

Eva nodded. 

“He still awake?”

She nodded again.  “Old habit from Tatooine.  Too hot under the twin suns.”   

The pair slid back into the shadows of the pier as they waited for a confirmation from Blizz.  After tonight, Eva didn’t feel like having anyone lying in wait at her ship.   As the water lapped at their sides, Eva heard herself ask, “Think he made it?”

Theron didn’t say anything.  He only looked at her, his hair darkened by the water and slicked back away from his face. Both of them were turning grey from the sand clinging to their skin.  On him, the grey drew out the gold in his eyes, giving them an unnatural glow.    

Eva knew better than to ever suspect he’d done glitterstim. 

“He was here for more than what he said?” Eva asked, her voice barely more than a breath over the dark water. 

The only reply was a squeeze of Theron’s hand at her hip as his eyes gazed up at the boards overhead.  No more tempting fate with conversation.  More footsteps passed overhead.  The slightest vibration on Eva’s wrist told her Blizz had responded to her message.  Yes, he would check it out for Lady Boss.   

The water continued to ripple around them as they slowly made their way in the darkness toward Virtue’s Thief.  Eva kept her eyes on Theron, watching his back in more ways than one.

**

As they bobbed in the water, ten yards away from the Thief, Eva tiredly kicked her legs to tread water.  They waited in silence for some sign of Blizz’s surveillance droid.  Now they were in the deepest part of the night, as the air and water went cold without the sun.  Sunrise and its accompanying warmth were still hours away. The docks were cast in blue light from the moon and stars, undisturbed by light pollution; as obnoxious as Rishi’s neon lights were, they had little impact beyond the immediate area.

Eva saw something move in the darkness near the gangplank.  Before she could say anything she saw Theron’s jaw twitch and a cold hand go up to his temple.  She heard a near silent “enhance.”  Then he sighed, the exhale catching slightly in the cold.  “Just a cat.”

“Check again,” she whispered through chattering teeth.

Theron frowned down at her, then he went back to observing the suspected cat.  The creature jumped on to the gangplank. Eva still couldn’t tell what it looked like, but apparently, Theron could.  “I’ll be damned. It’s a droid.  And it’s giving itself a bath.”

“That’s why I took forever writing code for a system idle process.  Please tell me they didn’t kill a real cat to disguise this one.”

Theron held back a guffaw.  “No, it’s just a very dark metal and it’s very… lifelike.”  He shook his head.

Eva consulted her comm. “Blizz says the area is clear.”

Theron didn’t hesitate; he started to swim toward the ship in even, strong strokes.  Eva dog-paddled along behind; she knew enough not to sink.  Theron was quick to haul himself up onto the rotting, wooden steps that led down into the water.  They likely came from a time before the tides on Rishi had risen as high as they now did.  Eva tried to hurry along as she noticed him waiting.  As she reached him, she held up an arm –

And then out of the water she came.  Theron effortlessly hauled her up, beskar vest and all, one-handed.

Eva forgot that he was more than just a data jockey, sometimes. 

Her breath caught even as he didn’t let go of her hand; he just tugged her along the dock, walking single-mindedly toward the ship and respite from the cool night air. 

“Theron, your back –”  That little stunt couldn’t have helped.

“I’ll let you look at it.  Just… I want to be less cold.”

Their clothing was heavy and sodden with water, and despite their best efforts, their heavy weights caused the wood under their feet to creak, and the fabric that remained on them squelched with each motion. 

Eva remember to send her entry signal just as they hit the gangplank, and she heard the ship door unlock.  “C2’s probably waiting up.  Whole crew is now late.”

She saw Theron’s chin go up and down once, ever so slightly.  Eva really didn’t need her protocol droid shot by an edgy spy to top the night off.  Eva let go of Theron’s hand and pushed past him to be the one to open the door into the ship, just in case.

It was palpably warmer inside the ship compared to the outdoors.  Eva edged up the steps further into the ship slightly, looking for C2, as Theron shut the door behind him.  She called for the droid, and she heard his metallic, clunky shuffle start down the curving hallway toward them.  Eva faced Theron in the small vestibule.

In unison, the smuggler and the spy sighed in relief.   They were safe.  Theron sagged against the wall momentarily before he let out a yelp and pulled away from it.  Eva’s hands quickly went to his back.  “We need to get you out of this.  Or whatever’s left of it.”  Concerned eyes scanned what she could see of the back of his head.  “I think you caught some metal in there too.  Sorry,” she offered as she pulled the wet fabric away from Theron’s back, and he hissed. 

“Be quick then.”

Eva didn’t think twice as she went for her boot knife and with a quick flick of her wrist, she finished tearing the back of the jacket from collar to hem.  Now in two pieces, she was able to peel it down Theron’s arms.  He grabbed hold of one side and did it himself, seemingly resigned to his fate of being fussed over.  Eva’s triumph in that moment was choked out as his shirt back now appeared in a deep reddish brown color.  Eva’s careful blade gave the shirt the same treatment as the jacket, but before she could try to pull it off him, Theron stepped away.  “I can do that myself.”

Eva stayed still as he slowly turned around. She noticed the bracers on his forearms – some sort of defensive device.  She didn’t dare touch him there.  “You’re staying here.  I’m going to look at that for you.”  She saw Theron’s eyebrow rise.  She was using her captain’s voice on him.  Normally, she could get people to follow instructions just by asking; the voice was for particularly stubborn individuals, like Akaavi.  Or him.

Then Eva started coughing and realized she was still weighed down by the beskar vest.  So much for looking the part.  She broke eye contact with Theron and struggled to escape her captain’s coat.  It was cold and thick and heavy; she’d spent far more time in the water tonight than she had the previous night.  Her fingers were sightly numb from the cold water.  She fumbled as she tried to shrug it off.

Then it was lifted from her shoulders – Theron.  Without hesitation, she pulled her arms out and walked away from it as he let it drop, heavy.  “Let’s get you out of that thing,” he said tiredly, hand vaguely gesturing toward the vest, the cause of her current problem.  Eva could see the start of dark circles under his eyes, even as a small shiver went through his body.  He was just as cold as she was, plus he’d had to help drag her across the waterways of Rishi.  And he was probably still bleeding.

“Same to you.  Get out of the cold stuff and let C2 handle the mess.”  Eva’s hands worked the buttons of her shirt, still difficult but more manageable as she started to thaw in the ship’s well-maintained environs.

“Got nothing to wear.”  Theron seemed too exhausted to care.  He waited for Eva to shrug out of her shirt before starting to help her with one side of the vest’s cinches.

Eva felt a small flutter inside when she realized he remembered how the vest work from all those months ago on Port Nowhere. She let Theron continue his work.  “We got surplus from a few broken deals, plus Rogun sent common merch that is overpriced on Rishi.  Clothes.” 

No response came as they continued to work the vest’s straps, made all the more difficult by the fabric being completely inundated with water.  Finally, with a violent jerk, Eva managed to free her side.  Theron took a few moments more, but he got it loose enough for Eva to raise her arms and have him lift it up over her head. 

The beskar vest dropped onto the ship’s durasteel floor with a loud ‘bang,’ only slightly muffled by its soaked fabric.  Theron’s eyes dropped to the ship floor, as politely as he could manage.

Fine. Eva wasn’t going to stand there in her ice cold trousers a second longer.  She went to work on her boots as she spoke.  “Strip here, get a shower in medbay,” Eva requested, still using her captain’s voice.  “C2 will grab you something, and I’ll be in to look you over.”  As her boots were tossed aside and her trousers tugged down over her thighs, Eva looked up at Theron, who was consciously avoiding looking at her in her underwear.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  You saw me last night.”

“You’re not injured.  I have no reason to look, professionally speaking.”

“Oh for – ”   Eva rolled her eyes and stood up straight.  “Is this why you didn’t answer my holos today?”

Theron stubbornly kept his gaze on the ship’s floor.  He swallowed, his throat moving.  “No.  Yes. Not what you think.”

Eva felt her temper flare up, even as she tried to be patient with him.  Her voice demanded his attention.  “Theron.” His eyes immediately focused on her face, the tiredness in them persisting, now laced with anxiety.  “Don’t leave.”

Eva pinned him with her eyes – something she could do as Eva, not as the Voidhound or any other con she might run. “You are formidable,” Theron said quietly.

“And you’re hurt.  And you don’t have to take care of it all by yourself,” she replied simply. 

Uncertainty filtered across his face, and Theron started to say something, but then he was interrupted by an “Oh dear.” 

Eva had to give a smile to the Hollis droid as he came down the steps, despite his timing.  “Ran into a little trouble at the cantina tonight.  We got something for Agent Shan to wear in medbay?”

C2 tilted his head slightly at Theron.  “Affirmative, Captain.  I shall start laundry immediately.”    He returned his attention to Eva. “The usual for you, Captain?”

“Two blasters, a boot knife, a few leftover flash and smoke grenades, a holdout blaster, two fragment grenades, and the single-shot electrodart.”  Eva paused for a moment. “I think I might have left that one loaded, so be careful, C2.” 

“Yes, Captain.  May I remind you I am due shortly for my maintenance cycle?”  C2 gingerly bent down to pick up Eva’s coat, treating it like it could go off at any second.  Which it could.

“You may.”  Eva went up the steps into the interior of the ship, then she turned around one last time.  “Make sure you get an inventory on Agent Shan too.” 

Then, subtly, C2 planted himself in front of the ship’s exit as he gathered up Eva’s clothes and the remains of Theron’s jacket.  Before Theron could object, C2 addressed him.  “Could you please provide a list of the weapons on your person?   I have taken the liberty of reinforcing the washing machine for blast damage, but I do prefer to avoid a live fire drill while on the spin cycle.”

For the first time since the rooftop, Theron was able to muster half a grin.  “That happen often?”

“On this ship, yes.”  C2’s tone was as close to annoyed as his programming permitted.

As Theron started to finally strip down, Eva made her way to her quarters for a hot shower.

**

Eva padded in stocking feet to medbay.  Eva’s parents weren’t military, but the importance of a three-minute shower was impressed upon her.  She’d gotten dressed in a basic t-shirt and exercise pants in record time, hair barely tamed into a ponytail.  She didn’t want to risk Theron grabbing clothes and running while she did her hair or something silly. 

She stopped short in the hallway just as the door came into sight.  She didn’t want to barge in on the poor guy.  Well, she did, but not while he was hurt and resistant to even being looked at in the first place, for some reason.  What the hell was that, anyway? 

C2 walked into medbay with the promised article of clothing and then walked out.  Right, give him a few minutes.

A comment about his scars surfaced from the previous night.  Yes, he had said he had more scars than her and that he didn’t want to talk about them.  But it wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen them before.  She’d gotten him halfway out of his shirt on Katalla in order to distract a would-be-assassin.  She’d seen how he’d been sliced up and gouged…

Her right hand came up to rub at her brows.  Reality had gone blurry on that impromptu op, thanks to Trant. Was that what he was thinking of? 

…Yeah, her immediate response to his scars on that occasion was far, far less than professional.  Eva wasn’t trying for sainthood, but there probably had been less sexually charged options than kissing him there.  She still regretted nothing on that count.  Maybe that’s what had him nervous. 

Could be the lighting.  There was a difference between medbay and a dark roof or bedroom. 

Bedroom – she’d inferred from a reaction that he’d never slept over at someone’s place without sex being involved.  It would follow that he didn’t let his partners help with wound care; he said he didn’t need to be “coddled” after being blown up and hit by shrapnel.  Based on his scars, he was bad at following doctor’s orders, even though he probably had a good government healthcare plan. 

Eva rubbed her left shoulder.  She did the best she could, and the latest mark – even though it was still pink – was heading toward silver, which would barely show on a pale spacer.

Right.  Five minutes were up.  Eva squared herself in front of her medbay door.  “You decent?”

A few moments of silence.  Then “yeah.”

Eva stepped forward, the door slid open automatically, and she walked through.  C2 had delivered one pair of briefs, sufficient coverage for the exam.  Then a replacement shirt would be procured, and he’d be reunited with the rest of his freshly washed wardrobe and the small arsenal he likely had hidden on him.

Eva could be business-like if she had to be, so that was the guise she put on as she assembled the necessary medical elements to extract debris and stitch Theron up, if needed.  As her hands were busy, so were her eyes, watching the man in front of her with help of some well-placed mirrors and reflective cabinet doors.  He sat on the edge of the nearest bed in medbay.

Theron Shan had been marked by his work in service of the Republic.  The face always had to get patched up.  That couldn’t reveal his high-risk job at any moment.  Before Katalla, Eva had idly wondered whether, like the Empire, the Pub government had mandated their agents have regular skin resurfacing to keep them unmarked and anonymous.  She’d heard about that from spacers who’d slept with younger agents.  Older ones bore marks of their duty, in her experience. 

Eva learned on Katalla that clearly, the Republic didn’t force that on their agents.

Or maybe it did, and Theron just found a way around it. 

Under the harsh lights, Eva regarded what many people would regard as ‘extensive damage.’  Two white lines quartered his chest, coming and going at different angles; she’d seen part of them before.  Another two crisscrossed at his abdomen, marring an otherwise perfect abdominal musculature, slightly darker than the ones at his chest.  Vibroblade wounds of different ages. They all interrupted the flow of moderate hair that covered Theron’s chest and stretched down to the waistband of his briefs (and beyond). Toward the center of chest, just past his heart, there was rippled area of skin about the size of Eva’s three fingers to the second knuckle. She’d seen that before, and that particular wound left her aching for him.

Onto new information.

There were a series of harsh red lines around his right shoulder, as if an arm had been nearly ripped off and reattached.  That looked disturbingly fresh to Eva.  That either meant it was, or it has been very serious at the time it happened.  She didn’t know what was worse. 

Peeking out from beneath the hem of his briefs was a scar from a direct blaster hit on his left leg.  She could see grazes and nicks on the sides of his arms and legs as he waited patiently for her, staring straight ahead at the opposite wall.  She had her fair share of those.

As she drew closer, she saw other scars.  There were a few areas that looked like they’d been burned but healed over, such as on his right bicep and forearm.  The swoop racing scar on his left wrist was an old friend. 

Theron’s back looked painful. More lines crossed his back, as did a few blaster shots and burns.  A pair of marks was unfamiliar to her at first glance, then she remembered one time when she’d been running with Akaavi.  He’d been shot with a slugthrower, twice.  Other marks simply looked like gouges, as if someone had stabbed into him just to dig out flesh.

Theron was a spy.  Spies had secrets.  People would do a lot to get those secrets.  He’d been tortured.

“Don’t ask.”  Theron finally spoke into the silence.  Eva considered the emotionless face that continued to fix its gaze at the opposite wall.  He expected her to ask or demand information, disregarding his previous request.  He likely expected her to stare at him in silent horror. He expected this to be some awkward affair thereafter, with her fawning over his wounds or trying to get him to open up to her, reaching for some heartfelt moment that would go wrong because he wasn’t up for it.

Eva was going to take relish in disappointing him.

Chapter Text

Theron had felt Eva’s gaze upon him from the second the medbay door slid open, the ‘swish’ of air making her arrival obvious.  He’d expected a gasp or a question right away.  That didn’t happen.  She was a decent actress.  She could hold it back. 

Theron wasn’t self-conscious about his scars.  He’d earned them.  They were proof that he had completed his missions successfully. He’d made it back alive without giving the enemy anything vital. They were proof that everything he couldn’t talk about had happened and that his life was real, even if there were no corroborating witnesses.  The work he did mattered, even if the case files were sealed and the witnesses were under a gag order.  Even if the victims disappeared into Republic protection systems and started new lives, Theron knew what he had done.

Theron mentally listed all the marks he could still see and remember.

When he was 18, his neural remapping and implant installation had gone sideways; he had an anesthesia allergy, it turned out.  He woke up in a really nice apartment, with two little kids peering over the side of the couch at him.  Mr. Trant introduced Mrs. Trant and the two kids as his own.  Mrs. Trant took care of him.  That was a new experience, being mothered, including being nagged to eat.  He kind of liked it.  But he didn’t let himself like it enough, because if he did, he’d miss it when it ended.  So Theron didn’t let himself get too attached, which was just as well.  Thereafter, he always kept his hair longer than military standard to cover up the scars left by the implant installation all around his brain.

All the nicks and cuts from live-fire practice on the SIS campus decorated his arms and legs.  His initial drug busts were uneventful – a blaster burn here or there, a slash from a vibroknife.  They just added up over time.

The scars got bigger and deeper as he started to match wits with smugglers who ran sentients.  Breaking the slave trade was ugly, dangerous business.  Theron lived for the few absolute victories he had, and he carried on for the sake of the bitter-sweet ones.  The scars started to run together and overlap.  Theron lost most of his teeth in fights.  He lost a few to torture.

Theron had been tortured twice.

The first time had been with Master Zho.  

The second time happened on purpose; he let himself be caught.  It was almost a catastrophic miscalculation, when the torture device decided that dismantling his rib cage – one rib at a time – was a logical strategy after it had disposed of his few remaining natural teeth.

The theoretically “safe” assignments of minding diplomats and escorting them places were surprisingly dangerous whenever he had to do them.  The time he thwarted a Mandalorian assassination plot on a planetary governor led to the first time he ever encountered a slugthrower, intended to thwart the governor’s Jedi bodyguards.  Theron wasn’t a Jedi, and their plot ended pretty quickly.  So did Theron’s protection duty, since he had to get the bullets removed – that was a novel experience for both him and the attending physician.

Corporate espionage against Czerka netted him a nasty chemical burn on his arm from one of the vats that blew up during his extraction.  He’d also had to kill an Imperial agent on the same run as he was.  Theron was the smarter agent and, in this case, the better shot; Theron took a blaster bolt to the thigh, but the Imp agent took a bath in industrial grade acid used to clean the machine parts after Theron shot the chains that held up the catwalk.   

Theron was a bane to nurses chasing him for follow-up appointments.  He never did attend them; he reported his wounds had healed without infection or complication over Holo mail to the physician.  He didn’t want their questions about how he got previous marks.  He didn’t want a referral to a plastic surgeon.  He didn’t want their pity or reassurances either – he didn’t need them.  The doctor – already overworked with SIS agents with far less resilience – stamped his clearance. 

The exception was that one time he’d prevented a slaver from jettisoning a shipping crate of Twi’lek slaves into a star in order to escape the Republic corvette in hot pursuit.  Theron had managed to sneak onboard and sabotage the main engines, only for the captain to decide to destroy the evidence – the people he was trying to smuggle.

Theron manually prevented the seals from releasing properly.  It nearly ripped his arm off.  Kriffing Jonas Balkar had found him and managed to signal for a medic before fainting into  Theron’s pool of blood. 

Balkar got a concussion and third-class medal for being injured in the line of duty. 

Theron got a first-class commendation.  He woke up a few days later in Trant’s apartment, with Mrs. Trant the Second metering his IV. “We really need to stop meeting like this,” were the first words out of his mouth.  She laughed. That was the last time he saw her; she divorced Trant the following year for his chronic infidelity.  Theron heard she got the apartment and physical custody of the kids until they were adults. 

Theron didn’t attend his follow-up appointments for that injury either.  And so his arm still looked like it had been hastily reattached, with more care dedicated to functionality than looks. 

But the Twi’leks were all fine.

Theron had accumulated more scars since then.  He couldn’t explain them to civilians. His work was classified.  But it was real.  He did make a difference in the galaxy.  He didn’t need anyone to get him through this or pity him, especially a potential --

“All right then, let’s start at the top; I’m pretty sure you have some shrapnel in that head wound.  Just hope is isn’t in too deep.” 

No questions.  Maybe she could follow instructions. 

“Any allergies, sensitivities, or favorite Holonet cartoon characters?”

Theron let a short “heh” escape as he turned to face her, and --- “Sithspit. Eva.  What --?”

Eva was trying to give him a heart attack.  He was certain of it.  “We have Shiv Starrunner bandages because of Guss.  Princess Power-Tart bandages are hidden in the back, because Risha doesn’t want to share, but I’m pretty sure she won’t miss a few.”  Eva wore that awful, wonderful devilish grin of hers – and not much else. 

Theron supposed he was lucky that she’d resorted to no-nonsense sports support basics rather than more direct and deadly lingerie.  His eyes saw a neatly folded pile of clothes nearby.  She hadn’t spent as much time staring as he’d thought.  He tried again.  “What--?”

“Didn’t want you to feel awkward.”  The words flew from her mouth with ease.

The words jolted his memory.  Theron didn’t know whether to have that heart attack or laugh hysterically.  The decision wasn’t helped when she flipped the box of Shiv Starrunner bandages at him, and then she mostly disappeared into the nearby cabinet so that she could search for the Princess Power-Tart ones. 

Smugglers.  This smuggler.  Stars and planets above. 

He did manage to catch the box though. 

Eva emerged from the cabinet, the electric pink and purple box in hand.  “These glow in the dark, if you’re interested.”  She paused as she read his expression, which was probably torn between amusement and panic, if he were to be honest. 

Then she shrugged.

Theron faced forward.  He shook with laughter, silently. 

“Hey, now.”  Eva was rounding the medbay bed, her voice concerned.  “Oh,” she said, relieved, when she realized that he wasn’t – whatever it was she thought he was doing.

“I’m fine,” he insisted.  “It’s just – there was a mission, my partner and I ended up less than dressed.  I didn’t expect you to say what I did at the time.”  Theron then gestured at her. “But this isn’t –"

Eva planted the Princess Power-Tart bandages next to the Shiv Starrunner ones.  “I figured since I’m going to be seeing a whole lot of you, I might as well give you everything I got.  Well, almost.” Eva crossed back behind him.  “Now let’s take a look at your scalp.”  He heard a few clicks and a bright overhead light came on.  Her hands grasped the sides of his head firmly and adjusted the angle of his neck to where she wanted it.  He felt careful fingers part his hair toward the top of his skull. 

Theron also felt the warmth of her skin just grazing his back. 

“You—you’re very distracting.” 

“That’s the point.  While I get a visual of the hunk of metal in your skull that you didn’t come to Rishi with, you sit there and imagine me prancing behind you in my underwear.”

Theron sighed. 

“If you’re going to do that, stay still.”  There was a hiss to the side of his throat, and Theron felt a local anesthetic seep upward. 

“This wasn’t how I imagined…. Well, I didn’t imagine you seeing me like this.” 

Eva made a noncommittal noise in her throat. “Ehh.  You feel that?”

“No.”

“Good.  So what did you imagine about me seeing you?”

Theron remembered her instructions and stayed as still as possible even as he felt his ears get hot.  “I –you – no, I’m not answering that right now.”

“You got something better to do?”  Theron heard a few metallic clicks as Eva reached for something behind him.  “Come on.  I’m playing by your rules – I’m not asking certain questions because they’re classified.  So you can at least answer what isn’t classified.”

“You’re awful.”

“I’m fair.”

“Both can be true.” 

“And so they are,” she crowed triumphantly over his head.  “So, how did you plan for me to see you less than fully dressed?”

Theron was silent for a few moments.  Then he felt her weave the fingers of one hand into his hair and gently tilt his head forward.  There was a bit of pressure, then he felt the cool air of medbay make contact with the warm blood that started to come out of his head again.  “Got it.”  He heard an ugly clatter into a specimen dish.   

He felt the bubble of kolto in the wound, and a gentle dry warmth started to creep across his scalp.  “Electrocautery?”

“On a low setting.  Takes longer, but no need for follow-up.  Which you apparently suck at.”

Theron gripped the edge of the bed with his hands, as he stifled a laugh.  She was right.  But… “You don’t have to bother.  I’m already … it doesn’t matter.”

“Does it bother you that it does matter to me?”

Theron swallowed, still facing forward.  He chose the less scary option.  “I imagined that you wouldn’t see me at all.  I’d be very distracting, and the lights would be out.” 

Eva didn’t hold back her light laughter; he felt her breath across his neck even as he hand remained steady as she closed up the cut in his head.  “Is this how you keep other partners from asking questions?”

“Only doing it in the dark is pretty effective,” Theron said flippantly.  Then he impulsively added, “And so am I.”

He felt the electrocautery turn off for a few seconds before Eva regained her composure.  Score one for him.  He smirked.

Eva cleared her throat as she continued to close up the wound on his head.  “So are any other scars like the swoop one on your left hand? Unclassified?”

Theron paused.  He hadn’t even thought of that one when he ran down the list earlier.  “No.”

“Do you answer questions about that one?”

“I normally don’t get any.”

“But you did about the others?” 

Theron felt the warmth on his head abate, and he heard her rattling the piece of metal she’d extracted in the specimen dish.  “Let me see that.”

“One moment.”   He heard the snap of sterigloves that he’d never heard her put on. 

Eva was very good at distracting him. Theron turned around to see her putting it under a scanner for identification. “Checking if we have to give this a makeshift funeral.”

It took a moment to register.  Gronn. 

Before he could say anything comforting or really dumb, the computer chirped at her.  “Not beskar, so not him,” she said lightly.  She picked up the specimen dish and walked it over to Theron, holding it low enough for him to see. 

Bigger than the bullets he’d had removed, but not by much.  “Must have struck at an angle.  At full velocity —”  A hand pressed against his lips, and he stopped to look up at her.

Along the way up to her face, he took in the sight of the fresh blaster graze to her leg that now paired with the older, more serious scar; something that looked like it had been a deep wound on her left thigh; a few grazes along her sides, two shots to her abdomen that must have bled badly, and then her shoulder.  The blaster bolt scar looked better despite having been stabbed recently.  She had similar nicks and cuts to his own; she’d been in more than one firefight and had survived. 

And her hand was on his mouth, as if she didn’t want to hear anymore about how lucky he was.   Theron raised his chin up to speak.  “Don’t want to talk about this one?”

Eva’s fingers drifted down his chin.  “This one I know wasn’t necessary.  If you’d just tugged me along instead of getting all protective, this would have gone over my head and the rest would have hit my vest.”  She leaned back slightly to look at his back, as if to confirm that his wounds would have been harmless to her. 

Theron shrugged.  “I’ve survived worse.”

“Apparently.”  Eva moved toward the medical disposal.  “Don’t want a commemorative keychain?”

“Pass.”  Theron watched her tip the small hunk of metal into the bin and that was it.  “Better me than you anyway.”

“Theron,” Eva whined, stretching out the two syllables.  She went to the medbay sink to wash her hands before tackling his back.

“You’re proving my point about why it’s better not to talk about them.  Or see them.  I don’t mind them.  Others do.  They get excessively concerned or they start thinking I’m bad at my job – or the job itself is bad.” 

Theron watched her move to dry off her hands and grab another pair of sterigloves to work on his back.  “When you feel obliged to accept that as ‘part of the job,’ maybe it is?”

Theron shook his head, resolutely.  “No, it’s for the Republic.  And most of these were for people in the Republic – it’s better I get shot up or burned or ripped apart than someone else… or have someone disappear because I wasn’t daring enough.”

Theron didn’t have to clarify what he meant by that; Eva knew. 

“Then why does the concern bug you?”  Eva’s hands went to his back and they were careful to pull at the skin, gently, to see what she was dealing with here.

He winced at the slight sting.  “It’s not necessary.  I made the choice.  It’s my body, my job, my duty.  They can’t know the details anyway.  It’s better for them to not know.  Not see.”

“Rhetorical question: are people who express care considered doubters in you or the Republic?  Is their concern – is that seen as a lack of faith in one or both?  And because they don’t get it - ”

Theron wanted to get off the medbay bed, but her instructions had been clear. “Hey.”  His voice was sharp.

“It’s a rhetorical question.”  Eva fell back on that defense.

“I counted more than one.”

Eva reached over for a hand-held scanner.  “I can’t see anything in your back.  Don’t want to open you up more than necessary if there’s nothing in here.”

There was silence as the little machine did its work.  When it beeped, Eva gave it a quick glance and put it aside.  “No metallic debris or foreign matter in there.  We can just let kolto gel do its work and you’ll be closed up in a few minutes.”

Theron nodded. 

Eva quietly went to work on the simple matter of his back.  He could feel how long the cuts and scrapes were.  No wonder he’d ruined the shirt.  “So, in the name of distraction, do I get to know about your scars?”

“I got most of these because I was greedy or just plain dumb at the time,” Eva said.  “They aren’t like yours.”

“But are they classified?”

A few beats of silence.  Then, “No. Fire away.”

“The left leg?”

He heard her giggle.  “My first and only time climbing trees with Bowie.  I took him to Alderaan – you know the really, really tall trees out in the forest?  It was his first time in a tree in years.  He wasn’t rusty.  I missed a critical branch and I fell.  Then I impaled myself about three quarters of the way down.  Bowie felt awful.  At least I’d had my dancing lessons with Lenn first,” she added on as an afterthought. 

He felt her hands skate over his back.  “After I’m done here, mind if I give you a tetanus booster with an iodine sidecar?  Don’t know how dirty that bomb was.”

He nodded.  “I prefer not to have systemic blood poisoning.  No further clarification on your eye?”

“It falls under the dumb and/or greedy category, just like the rest of them,” she replied airily.  He tensed as her hands crossed over the red lines on his shoulder.  “Sorry,” he heard her say.  “Still hurt?”

“No.  Just not used to being touched there after.” 

Karrie had nearly cried when she first saw it.  That had eaten at him. He wasn’t suffering.  Her feelings about him made her suffer, and he didn’t like that. 

Eva reached to activate the medbay computer attached to his bed.  “Just a check to make sure I didn’t miss anything.” 

The machine lit up green.  Theron heard Eva prep a hypospray and then its cold hiss against his left bicep.  Then he felt her nudge his arm.  Theron turned his head around.  Eva held up the two bandage boxes.  “Starrunner or Power-Tart?”

Theron felt a smile break across his face, uncontrollably.  “Starrunner,” he answered after careful consideration.  It was so silly.  He watched her peel back the wrapper and affix it over where the hypospray had touched.  It was silly and useless.

He liked it. 

Eva came around to stand in front of him, still unashamed and mostly undressed. “My work here is done.” She made a sweeping gesture toward the door – he was free to go. 

Theron looked up her face, and then he dared.

Eva’s breath stuttered inward as he ran calloused fingers over the scars on her abdomen.  “What about this?” he asked, voice low.  She was soft here – not hardened from any discipline yet not a sign of overindulgence as one might expect from a smuggler.  

“What can I say?  My job is a workout within itself, but I like gin and dessert,” she joked.

Theron made a dismissive noise up at her.  “That’s not –”

“I learned young that being arrogant at a pazaak table can get your smart mouth wiped right off your face.  Or, in my case, make you bleed like a stuck roba.”  She gripped his wrist and guided it to one specific wound.  “I deserved that one.”  Then she moved toward the other, which was far better healed and barely noticeable.  “This one, I didn’t.  Lady welched on a deal.  It got messy.  Akaavi had to haul me back, howling the whole way.” 

“What happened to the lady?”

“I shot her on my way down.  My kill was clean.”

Theron looked at the marks on her skin.  “Does that count as greedy or dumb?”

“Dumb.  Should have worn the vest.”  Eva let go of his wrist to tap her own left shoulder.  “Same story with this one.”   Theron looked up and watched a slightly amused, yet still sad look cross her face.  “I miss the days I could go get pancakes at midnight and not get shot at.”

The memory of her showing up on Coruscant with an empty sleeve made Theron’s heart lurch.  “That’s –”

“Not your fault.  Voidhound attracts trouble, if she isn’t terrorizing someone herself.”  Eva rolled the shoulder in question.  “For example: Ivory came for me, and you had nothing to do with that; that was inevitable with him.”

Theron’s eyes drifted to where the large bruise had bloomed on her on Port Nowhere.  All gone now.  He ran a thumb across the skin there and watched as he raised goosebumps in his wake. 

Eva seemed to remember the same moment of being in a hallway, being checked for a stab wound through her blastweave.  Theron had been on his knees, removing her clothes.  Just as she did there, Eva ran her hand up to the back of his head, but gently.  Theron let his eyes shut at the pleasurable sensation.  He then felt her tilt his head toward her to check over her work from a different angle.  Then she let it tilt back, but she didn’t unhand him.

Those moments on Port Nowhere could have been a lot more fun in a different context. 

Well, this was a different context. 

Before he could talk himself out of it, before he could berate himself, Theron grasped her hips and pulled her toward him.  She leaned back slightly in surprise, her dark eyes questioning.  Another steady pull, and she stood between his legs. “I—I’ve had a rough night.”  He was cold, tired, and sore. 

Eva wasn’t just there.  She was warm in all senses of the word.  She understood.

“Yeah,” Eva confirmed, her rate of breathing picking up.  He could see that quick mind race to the next logical point. “So you mentioned a birth control implant the other night.  You still got it?”

Theron brightened up at that question. “You need to replace it every ten years.  Mine was redone two years ago.”  He raised his chin toward the computer attached to his bed.  Eva tapped the screen twice.  Theron saw the digital outline of the implant appear on screen, the new model type clearly identified.  He saw a few other lines, but he couldn’t read them from his angle.  “And yours?” 

“I’m due next year,” she replied.  Keeping her feet planted where they were – as if she’d lose her place if she dared move away from him – Eva leaned and reached for the neighboring bed’s computer and called up her medical records.  “I also don’t have anything to give you to remember me by.”  She impatiently drummed her fingers on the screen edge until it finally sparked to life.  She pressed a button three times to bring up the relevant page.

Eva adjusted the screen’s angle so he could see, smirk on her face. 

Carrying no disease, nulligravida, nullipara.  The outline of her implant was displayed.

Theron blinked, then asked her, “Is that what’s on page three and four of the med readouts?”  Then something finally clicked.  “Oh, so when you offered to show me your page three and four the other night--- oh.”  Theron let a slightly abashed grin cross his face.  “I’m so bad at this.  Especially if I’m trying to be just ‘Theron’ and not the agent.”

Eva gave him a smile and ran a hand along his jaw. “‘Just Theron’ is just fine,” she reassured him.  She let her hands come to rest on his shoulders.  Again, Theron flinched as she touched the grisliest of the scars.  “Sorry  --”  Eva let the hand slide to his bicep, a less offensive place despite the old burn there. 

Letting go of her hips for a moment, Theron stubbornly moved her hand back to its former place. “No, I need to be touched there.” Their eyes met. 

And then he needed something more. 

Theron abruptly pulled her in close to him, and her face lit up as their exposed skin made contact.  He felt the thrill go through him.  “I like you touching me,” he insisted in that tone of voice he knew she liked.  He was all too cognizant that with a slight change in angle, he could kiss her breastbone and then run his lips all over her. 

Her chest rose and fell quicker now as he let his legs make contact with her long, smooth ones.  “Not everywhere. Not yet.”  Her eyes had somehow gone darker as she looked down at him. “I’m going to kick you off the Thief if you keep that up and don’t—”

“Everywhere.” 

Then everything moved fast, and his grasping hands were on her backside, pulling her up to straddle his hips as he tried to move further back.  Her hands were in his hair and tilting his head back so finally, finally they could kiss and be themselves and not playacting.  He blindly reached for the small button marked ‘privacy’ on the computer attached to his bed, hoping that locked the door or dropped a screen or something relevant to the label.  His blood was hot and roaring though his ears, just like it had when he’d first had the urge to touch her back on Fleet. 

Then the most plaintive voice filtered through the medbay speakers.  “Eva, let me in.”

They ignored the voice.  She growled, and a knot formed in his belly as he felt a knee press into the bed next to his thigh.  Theron felt as if every part of him was reaching for her, tightening anticipation, and he was too done with the night to care about propriety.  He wanted to drown in her body, and he wanted her to soar because of him.

“Eva, I’m naked and afraid in the streets of kriffin’ Rishi, let me the hell in.” 

She stopped her climb up Theron’s body and straightened up, pulling away from him.  She talked at the ceiling.  “Corso, you got a comm unit.  Use it and let yourself in.”

“Woman, I don’t have it on me.  Where do think I was gonna put it in this get-up?” Corso retorted.

“I got a few suggestions,” she said tartly.  Theron had a laugh at that, but he buried his face into her skin so Corso wouldn’t hear him.  “I thought Risha was with you.”

“Went with Akaavi.  I was with Guss, but would you believe he found four sisters from Dak?”

Another voice was overheard.  “Captain?” came C2’s rightfully timid inquiry. 

This was happening because the op wasn’t over yet.  This wasn’t the right time.  Didn’t he have data from The Aggressor to finish decoding?  Safehouses to crash?  What time did he think he have to fool around with his asset?

Theron was doing something wrong. 

Theron tried to slide out from under Eva without her noticing.  She did.  The look of utter despair she wore would have been comical if they both weren’t so frustrated.  “Oh, no, you started to think about duty and the Republic again, didn’t you?”

He mutely nodded, apologetic.

“The god abandons me.”  Eva let herself descend from her perch to stand in her medbay.  “What, C2?”

“The Ash Angel is hailing us.  The Grand Champion hasn’t made it home, and Miss Mako –”

“—is asking.”  Eva looked over at Theron.  “Is Agent Shan’s laundry done?”

“….affirmative.”  C2 sounded regretful.

Eva considered his response for a moment.  Then a mischievous grin crossed her face.   “You got credits in the pool now too, C2?”

“….T3 as well.”

The defensiveness in C2’s voice made Theron lie back on the bed and laugh.  This was ludicrous.  Even the droids were in on it now.

Eva allowed herself a few moments of shaking her head and grinning before she followed up with C2.  “Agent Shan requires his clothes to return home.  Make sure you got all the weapons too.  I’ll rescue Corso.  Captain out.” 

She was already crossing the room toward the t-shirt and exercise pants she’d long-abandoned.  Theron watched her dress quickly.  He managed to say her name before she left.  She looked at him, expectantly.  No other words came to the fore for Theron.  He didn’t know what to say – he was and was not sorry, for different reasons.  All he could do was look at her. 

Eva accepted his silence.  She got the last words however.  “Theron?”

He lifted his head in acknowledgment. 

“The lights will be on.”

Then she was out the door, and C2 came in a few seconds later to deposit clothing at the end of his bed.  Theron digested her words, sighed, and dressed himself in his freshly washed clothes and a certain grin.

**

Day 14

“Did you send the message?”  Eva asked Risha again. 

Risha, irritated, stuck her head up from beneath the bar at the warehouse.  “I did.  If they don’t want to come to your overgrown kiddie party, I don’t blame them.”

“Pfft.  Their loss.  Our parties are great – even without the liquor.”  With that, Eva grabbed the tray of drinks.  Dodging a few small, hurtling bodies as she crossed the warehouse floor, Eva made her way across the docks.  She had to walk for a fair bit, but she eventually made it to the shore. 

Bowdaar awaited her.  “Little Girl, finally.  The ones smaller than you are thirsty.”

“Risha hasn’t mixed a non-alcoholic beverage in awhile.  She’ll get faster.”  Eva put the tray of drinks down and surveyed the strip of beach that had been cleaned up by Corso and Guss at an impressively fast speed.  Bowie headed back toward the warehouse to collect another round of sandwiches.

The Red Hulls had done it.  They’d won the planet.  The local gangs – the real pirates of Rishi – had thrown in their lot with her and her crew.  And this was the great sign of good will:

Their children were out in daylight. 

Corso was trying to organize the small ones into teams for something.  It was going about as well as anyone could expect.  The slightly larger ones were sensible enough to stay within a small orbit of their parents for now. 

But they were here.  They were seen for the first time. 

And they weren’t in danger.  According to the spies, they’d yet to come across another occupied Nova Blades safehouse.  It had been two days since the explosion at the Blaster’s Path, and the Novas were either dead or had withdrawn further into the interior of Rishi to be closer to the Revanites.

Either way, it mean Raider’s Cove was free of them for the first time in centuries.  The gangs that remained – now united to the Red Hulls – were interested in more than taking everything Rishi and its people had.  They wanted to make it something more than a slum planet. 

Eva’s train of thought was broken as Akaavi came to stand next to her.  “When do you plan on telling them?”

“Soon enough.  I have a feeling a few of them know I have deep pockets.  How deep – they might guess.”  Eva was going to offer up that she was a ‘representative’ of Voidfleet.  Not the boss.  Not yet.  Maybe not ever.  They didn’t need to know it was her.  She wasn’t in it for the fame or the bounty on her head. 

Speaking of which.

The Ash Angel had left the day before.  Gronn .. had not been found.  He wasn’t answering his comm unit, but it was still intact, according to the ship’s computer.  Eva didn’t know what to make of that.  Mako had decided to make it her fault, which Eva accepted along with a creative variety of foul names that Mako bestowed on her.

Before she hung up, Mako said that the only thing winning the Great Hunt had ever done for her was take away everyone she loved.  If it wasn’t for the Great Hunt, Gronn wouldn’t have been on Corellia. He wouldn’t have met Eva.  Mako wouldn’t have lost him.  Mako wouldn’t have lost Crysta and Braden and other names Eva didn’t know. 

Mako was leaving her game.

Eva had meant it when she said she missed going out and doing stuff without worrying about being shot up.  Nobody cared about small-time smugglers. 

“Akaavi, if I said I wanted to retire –”

Eva didn’t even get to finish the thought before the Zabrak started to laugh, her white teeth bright in the sun.  “You won’t.  Too much adventure in the galaxy.  Too much for you to meddle in.” 

Yeah, Eva had said a few things about retiring that never happened…because something always happened next. 

Akaavi sobered up, gradually.  Then she looked at Eva, sidewise.  “Most of us wouldn’t sit around with you, you know.”

“I know.  Another reason I can’t go so easily.  Minus Corso, I don’t see any of us calling it a day.”  Eva let herself soak up some sunlight before speaking again.  “I don’t know anything but smuggling.  I’m at the top, but some days it just feels like a long way to fall.” 

Akaavi grunted.  “It’s only a fall if you don’t want it to happen.” 

Eva’s breath caught.  She could do without the lean days and the worry, but going back – could she?  Did time make her forget the other scary things of being the common smuggler?

For some reason, Thera popped back into her mind again.  And then Beryl.  No protection.  No safety net.  Not for them.  Not for their crew, if they had any.

Eva watched as Corso finally managed to track down a well-abused ball and tried to demonstrate how to play some game using Guss.  That wasn’t going well, since Guss’ most athletic activity was watching Huttball. 

“I’m going to go bang a nail in my coffin,” she explained to Akaavi.  She turned to head back to the warehouse.  Kids didn’t need to see that bad example.

**

It was about half-way through her second of three planned cigarettes on the roof that she heard someone come into the alleyway below her.  She peered over the edge then consulted her comm unit.  Ten minutes ago, Risha had dutifully notified her that Theron and Lana had showed up looked for her, in response to the invitation.  Lana had gone onward toward the make-shift field. 

Theron, on the other hand, had not yet eaten today.  When Bowdaar had picked up the sandwiches, he’d insisted the spy take one. 

It seemed Theron was almost done and disposing of the scraps.  But he was having second thoughts about that.  Eva watched as he moved toward the trash can, but then reconsidered it and decided to try to finish the sandwich.  Bowie’s cooking tended to have that effect on people.  Eva licked her thumb and forefinger and squeezed the end of the cigarette out before tucking it behind her ear.  She didn’t want to give away her position yet.

Eva promised that she’d think of Beryl and Gronn again after he was gone.  Theron was alive.  They were dead.

Eva propped her chin on the roof’s ledge and looked down as  she heard a clatter below.  Theron had heard it, and he was quick to whirl around.  “Blizz, is that you?” she heard him say.  Blizz was long gone, she knew. 

The reason for his question became evident.  A dark little cat slunk into view, body low to the ground. It warily regarded Theron.  From a distance, Eva supposed it could pass for Blizz’s sentry, but the presence of fur indicated otherwise.

Theron didn’t approach it.  He leaned back against the warehouse wall and watched the cat make a few laps around the alley, never getting close enough for him to touch.  Theron experimentally tore off the edge of his leftover sandwich and tossed it ahead of the cat.  It trotted over, sniffed it, batted at it, but didn’t eat it.  Then it looked at Theron, disgruntled. 

Cats knew what they wanted and how they wanted it.  Eva had remembered that lesson from Hylo.

Theron knew it from somewhere too, apparently, as he crouched down and tried again.  “I won’t tell the Wookiee if you won’t.  Just don’t bite me.”  Now he extended his hand, the sandwich meat dangling from his hand.

The cat took its dear sweet time in deciding whether or not to trust Theron.  Five, ten minutes it took to approach his position, belly to the ground. 

And Theron was patient. 

The cat finally took its prize from his hand and darted away with it, wolfing it down without letting it touch the ground.  Eva heard a “heh” float up from the alley as Theron watched the cat and then rewarded its audacity with another offering.

Maybe it was because Eva had been thinking about her life before the Voidhound.  Maybe it was because she recalled the early days of having just Corso, Bowie, and Risha on the crew and how simple that was – no offense to Akaavi or Guss…it was just the time immediately before becoming a privateer …

And giving up Hylo. 

Hylo was a living god on some lovely tropical planet and had just celebrated his sixteenth birthday.  It was the best life she could have given him, minus keeping him and dumping Darmas. 

She really should have kept the cat. 

Maybe it was that.  Maybe that was the tipping point for Eva. 

Because watching Theron be kind to something so small and defenseless released something inside of her that she didn’t think she had anymore. 

And when she realized what it was, Eva gasped. 

Theron heard her and craned his head to look up at the roof, only to see her peering over the edge at him and his new friend.  Then he grinned up at her. 

Eva was done for.

When dusk came to Rishi, Eva, Lana, and the rest of Virtue’s Thief sat and sipped their non-alcoholic drinks as they watched Theron join Corso in ditching his boots to play with the children on the beach; most of them didn’t have shoes, so the adults leveled the playing field.

It was a good day.

**

Day 16

And then everything went wrong on the third day of the raids on safehouses.  Eva received an emergency, silent signal from D4 at midmorning. No explanation.  But he sent it over the Voidhound’s lines to indicate severity. 

Eva appeared in the safehouse as Jakarro bellowed at Lana. “I could have caught up!”

“We can’t afford to be so reckless, Jakarro!” Lana retorted, visibly perturbed.  “Losing Theron is bad enough – what if we’d lost you, too?”

Eva’s teeth rattled up and down against each other twice, as her jaw trembled.  For a moment, she felt color drain from her face and seemingly draw down into her stomach.  D4 said – something – about Lina of Onderon.  Eva missed it entirely as her feet strode into the room, didn’t regard Lana’s angry snap in response as anything more than background noise.  “Where’s Theron?”

**

Chapter Text

“Where’s Theron?”

Jakarro and Lana startled at the sound of her voice and then stared at her.  As they thought of what to say, scenes from the last few days flashed through Eva’s mind. 

It had been a good day.

It had been a few good days in a row, even. 

**

Everyone had slept for most of the day after the Blaster’s Path incident.  Eva woke to dozens of messages from pirates on the planet, directed to her Red Hulls persona. 

Somewhere toward the bottom of the pile were six messages from Guss, who had apparently found out that the four sisters were only working as waitresses part -time.  There were only so many males that were biologically compatible with them on Rishi.

Another six were from the madam regarding  Guss. The first three messages were timed increases in money; the longer the Red Hulls didn’t pay, Guss would be kept indefinitely as a hostage.  The last three were reversals of those charges, because Guss had quickly worn out his welcome.

Akaavi had helpfully offered to convene a crew meeting and take a vote on the topic, but Eva had simply rolled her eyes and transferred the credits.  Guss was dumped at the bottom of the Thief’s gangplank within the hour.

After Eva had plowed through all the necessary Holonet mail, she dared to message him.  She half-expected him not answer.  He’d done that a few times now – any time they actually got close (physically or emotionally or really in any sort of way), he retreated for days, which was improved from the long weeks of silence while he was undercover.  The cat in the alley was less cagey than he was.

She’d tried to ignore it, because she didn’t want to be hung up on him.  Much like making friends with a cat, if she tried too hard, he’d skitter away.

Then again, he’d tried to pull her into bed with him the night before, so …

SECURE HOLO MESSAGE LINK ESTABLISHED

To: TS

From: EC

We ransomed Guss back from the local whorehouse.  How’s tricks?

To:  EC

From: TS

….Boring in comparison, I guess.  You ok after last night?

To: TS

From: EC

We talking the cantina or my medbay?

He might not answer after that one.

But he did.  And the rate of the messages sped up.

…Both. 

Not a scratch, even though I had an itch.

Sorry. Unprofessional.

I like periodic reminders I’m hot enough to melt your professionalism, honestly.

Stars.  Awful, fair, AND correct.

That made her smile.  Ended up in medbay because of your gallantry, trying to keep me safe.  I’d be a liar if I said that didn’t do something for me.

Like the disguise on Katalla…?

That had its own purposes and appeal. 

I remember.

So what’s next?  When DOES the Rishi op end anyway?

We get the information to Pub and/or Imp gov’t.  Someone listens.

If they don’t?

This thing is big enough that if they don’t, L and I are unemployed since our employers won’t exist. 

I’m always taking applications.  You have an edge, unless something interesting comes up in her resume. 

Thanks.

I’m serious.  And I just said that about L to be nice; you’re the top candidate.

: )

She left it at that; they both had stuff to do.

Eva saw him the next day when she invited Theron and Lana to the Red Hulls’ get-together with the people of Rishi.   The cat incident ---

Yeah.

Since then, they hadn’t seen each other in person – he was back on decoding the data dump from The Aggressor, if he wasn’t, he was sweeping the now-vacant safehouses left behind in the wake of the events at the cantina.   She was breaking the news to various parties it wasn’t just the Red Hulls that had bumped out the Nova Blades – it was the Voidfleet. 

Interestingly enough, that had eliminated any residual reluctance among the crews; for them, the question had always been whether the Red Hulls could keep what they’d won.  Other ambitious pirates had come to Rishi before them in the last few hundred years.  A few had even driven the Novas to the edges of Raider’s Cove and into the wilderness… but never for long.

The muscle of Voidfleet was the assurance necessary.  Eva didn’t let on she was the boss.  Theron thought that was wise.

With the apologies for keeping them in the dark came the necessary schmoozing that came with it.  That included give and take – this bottle here, that paper there, try this over here. 

Eva decided to be more cautious than usual.  No, that wasn’t true. She had indeed made a reputation for herself in her first few weeks on Rishi.  So her ‘usual’ was now something else from what it would have been if it were her and Risha amusing themselves on Nar Shadaa, seeing how far they could make it in their respective gambling circuits while buzzing away on their substance of choice. 

But she wasn’t fooling herself – she wasn’t doing as much as she could have because of him.

Because of Theron.

That didn’t mean she was clean.  No, there wasn’t a magic wand for that, given how much she’d been doing a week ago.  He was a realist.  An optimistic realist, but a realist all the same.

They comm’ed at night, to keep the other up to date with their progress.  He knew she was tapering.  She let him know Rogun had confirmed the safe arrival of all of the captives they’d freed; Teff’ith was as good as Theron’s word.  Eva would ask how everything had healed up.  Fine, he’d say. He let her know what progress had been made on the decoding and how fruitless each safehouse raid had been.  The Red Hulls had done too good of a job in driving the Nova Blades out.

Except apparently, they hadn’t.  Theron’s customary position near the mainframe was vacant.

**

Lana’s eyes studied her, the unnatural glow intensifying slightly as she spoke, “He was captured.”

Eva was silent as she felt her head go cold, her ears venting all of the heat in her head. Instinctively, she threw her comm open to Virtue’s Thief.  She didn’t know who’d be listening now. 

Lana continued, even though Eva perceived her as being distant, far away on some other island.  “The Nova Blades data – one of the safehouses was specifically designated as Revanite, rather than Nova.  We …. We thought about asking you to do it, but we decided the work you were doing on the planet was important.  We tried to investigate it ourselves –”

Jakarro cut her off, “There were only 10 of them.  We saw it happen, but she used her Sith wizardry to hold me back!”  The Wookiee paced uneasily, angry at Lana, angry at himself for not being able to resist the hand-waving. 

Lana drew herself upright and pressed her lips into a thin line before retorting.  Eva wasn’t the only one bold enough to go toe-to-toe with a fully grown Wookiee.  “Theron is the only one the Revanites saw.  They may not know about the rest of us.  If so, we need to maintain that advantage or else –”

The rage came hot and sudden, piercing the veil of cool shock that had draped itself on Eva. She erupted, drowning out whatever Lana was about to say. “Between the two of you, there was no hope of rescuing him?  I don’t buy that for a second.” Her sharp voice echoed back and forth across the room.

Lana, visibly frustrated, reined in her temper, though just barely. “That’s not the point!  Whether we saved him or not, the attempt would have revealed us to the enemy, and then we’d be running now instead of completing our mission!”

Eva strode up.  Regardless of the height difference, Eva didn’t hesitate to get in Lana’s face.  “He wouldn’t have left you behind.  He wouldn’t have left Jakarro behind or me either – the hell makes you think it’s all right to abandon people for a strategic advantage?”

Eva felt Jakarro’s claws hook into the back of her coat collar.   D4 hastily tried to calm the situation.  “I really think you’re all much too worried.  They took him alive! That’s a good sign.  They’re probably just torturing him a bit, maybe doing some interrogation…where he could tell them about us…”  Then it finally registered on the droid. “Oh no!”

Eva’s stomach churned.  He’d already suffered.  He’d suffer again.  For the Republic. 

Not just that.  He’d suffer for the figures in the room that let him be---

She wanted to cry.  The urge was swallowed down, consumed by something that was far stronger in that moment.

And Eva let it.  She let it, because cruel, clean efficiency was the one way she’d get through this.  It was the one she’d be able to get to him in time. 

As her anger roiled, Lana’s hands raced over the consoles, seeking to pull up data.  “That won’t be an issue. Theron has several discreet implants to help him ignore pain and chemical manipulation.”

A flash of memory, and Eva saw Corso’s shudder at Lana’s holovid encounter with Kai Zykken.  “What if Revan or one of his followers use the Force?  Couldn’t they read his mind?  Or use it against him?”

“I’ve never been able to ---”  Lana stopped short as Eva’s glare pinned her to the floor.  Realization – Lana recognized the change in her. Even though he was out of her line of vision, Eva could sense Jakarro seethe behind her.  He growled, deeper and more resonant than Bowdaar’s. 

Lana tried to recompose herself.  “Yes, I’ve tried. I’m sure it’s no surprise.”

The cold silent stares in the room clearly indicated contrary.

“Theron’s mind is highly ordered, very… resolute, shall we say.  Probably due to his childhood training by the Jedi.”  Lana looked down at the intel on the screen, now painfully aware that her choices were not universally acclaimed.  “He will keep our secrets, and we will rescue him.  But right now, we need to focus and think it all through – just like he would.”

“I trusted Theron.  I don’t trust you.”  No, she trusts Theron.  Don’t put it in the past, he isn’t---

Eva saw Lana’s breath stutter slightly.  “Trust that I want to defeat the Revanites just as badly as you do.”

Jakarro rumbled in Eva’s direction, in Shyriiwook smug cant, “Sharks need each other, like Jack and Jill.  The death stick without a slim jim and old hat can drink tea, especially during a cleaning.” 

“Death stick’s got bad breath, but the spanner is still hooked – that’s the wash now,” Eva returned in Shyriiwook.  Jakarro grunted in assent. 

“I’m not even going to try to translate that,” was D4’s only comment. 

Coming out of the cant, Jakarro continued, “Arguing and killing each other is pointless.  We need to be killing Revanites.” 

His real message had already been conveyed.  Eva appreciated that. 

“And not least of all, keeping their fleet on the ground, wherever it is.”  Eva cast a look over at the strategy table that Theron had left open to a surface scan of Raider’s Cove and the immediate surrounding areas.  She rotated it with a flick of her wrist, thinking. 

The comm on Eva’s wrist crackled.  “Captain.”  Risha.  “They’re only playing with Imperial and Republic trading lanes – you were right about ignoring us and the Hutts.  If I may?”  Eva reached into one of her interior pockets and pulled out her personal datapad and linked it to the strat table.  The image of Raider’s Cove flickered out, and Risha sent over the survey of galactic space near Rishi.  “Thanks.  With trading lanes come military patrols to maintain and protect trading territory. So if I input the data on where the Revanites struck Imp and Pub shipping….and then modify routes in the least intrusive way possible…”

The trading routes flexed and bent.  As the routes took Risha’s final, predicted form, simultaneously, Lana and Eva’s brains clicked.  “They’re drawing them here!” Lana exclaimed as Eva spat angrily, “Revan is trying to get them into battle over Rishi.”

Lana turned sharply toward the mainframe, pushing Jakarro out of the way.  He growled again, but he watched her work.

“And the Mandalorians do not have the artillery or fleet to accompany them into battle.  That’s part of why Shae Vizla is staying out – no more debt than a clan can handle,” Risha concluded. “Money turns a Mando into a relative pacifist.”

Lana ran a hand through her hair as the other swiftly pulled up geographic data on the planet’s surface.  “With his own ships in the mix, both fleets could be devastated.”

“Weakening both sides so that he can make his own play – that’s been the game all along, hasn’t it?” Eva’s memories flipped through the Tython and Korriban ops, everything in between.  

Then private conversations and observations between her and Theron also clicked into place. The Hutt Cartel thought it could get in on the action – before it got more costly than it was worth. Theron’s private op on Katalla had hamstrung finances, causing this crisis between the Novas and the Revanites. 

That was it.  That was all it. 

“And let’s not forget the people here, below the space battle to end all space battles.”  Rishi had been ignored by the Empire and neglected by the Republic.  Eva hadn’t gone through everything she had just to let this screw the people over again. 

“We have to find some way to interfere.” Lana clasped her hands as the data she’d pulled up seemed to offer no help, nothing more to decode. 

D4’s eyes lit up.  “I know where to find them!”  The room focused on the droid.  “After they caught Theron, I intercepted their transmissions. After that, triangulating their base was a simple calculation.  I completed it almost 87 seconds ago.”

A sudden calm approached. “Give it to me, now,” Eva demanded. 

“They’re on a small island not far from here.  The native Rishii have a trading village on the same island. I’m sure they’d give us comfortable lodging,” D4 said as he uploaded the coordinates to the console and Eva rapidly intercepted them with her comm link.

As she ported them up to the ship, Eva spoke into her comm to Risha.  “I’m going to get the Thief up and ready for potential intercepts.  I want eyes in the sky.  I need to go back.”  Eva was almost mechanical in her statements as she filed and sorted what needed to be done.  What had to be done now.  Her vision tunneled as she felt herself move toward the door.

“We’ll be ready, Captain.”

“How long has he been gone?” Eva asked Lana, still moving.

“Two hours, forty minutes.  We hid until it was safe.  They’ve probably taken him to their hideaway.”  Lana’s footsteps pulled away in the opposite direction of the door.  “We need to clean up any trail we might have left here.  Go.”

Eva didn’t look back or acknowledge, not even as Lana’s throat started to form some words that never fully emerged.  They might have been apologies or wishes of luck.

Eva didn’t care any more about the Sith.

She didn’t care too much if the Pubs and the Imps blew each other to kingdom come either. 

They just couldn’t do it here – not this planet.  Not her planet.  Not to the people on the planet.

And not least of all, Theron Shan. 

**

“You’re taking the Wookiee.”  Risha stood in Eva’s bedroom doorway. “That should increase your life expectancy down there by 300%.”  Old joke.  Still worked. 

Eva nodded, silent. 

Risha leaned back out of the captain’s quarters to see Akaavi working at one of the hallway computer terminals, keeping a careful eye on them. 

Akaavi had sat silent with Risha in the cockpit as they absorbed the contents of the unexpected meeting.  She had conveyed the nature of the latest briefing on the Rishi safehouse to the crew as Risha had prepped the Thief from her seat in the pilot’s chair.  Everyone had cleared out to their favored positions on the ship by the time Eva returned.  They hunkered down.

Eva, as the Voidhound, was not easy to live with. 

The air had gone heavy as she entered the ship, as if yet another great storm had rolled into Rishi.  The Red Hulls guise was gone; her demeanor had already transitioned to that of the Voidhound, all sharp, angular, and cold.  Her boots beat an even, swift rhythm to her quarters.

Virtue’s Thief took off within minutes of her arrival.

The Red Hulls’ Captain was never seen again.

By the time Risha had managed to open her door, Eva had already washed away all traces of the pirate.  The face in the mirror was flawless, perfect.  The Dermaplast sealed away her imperfections, leaving a flat, pale canvas. 

She’d also hacked her hair off.  There was just barely enough to pull back now, but gone were the remains of red hair dye. Just past the fresher door, Risha could see the haphazard curls lopped off on the floor, discarded.  The familiar mahogany remained.

Now Eva pieced together the image of the Voidhound, dark and immaculate, with each stroke of a makeup brush. 

The Sith had let the spy be taken.  Risha supposed that of the three, he was most likely to resist giving up information.  She wasn’t going to tell Eva that, make it sound as if she agreed with Lana.

But he potentially was the most fragile, lacking Wookiee resilience or the Dark Side’s ability to force heal under duress.  At least, Guss thought they could do it if they had to.  But what the hell did Guss know? 

Theron would die with his secrets.  That what the Sith was counting on, unless he was rescued.  The thought struck Risha as she saw Eva’s flat eyes in the mirror’s reflection.  This wasn’t going to be over, even if Theron was rescued.  Or his body recovered. 

Risha peered down the hall making sure the coast was clear, save for Akaavi.  She actually liked Theron.  Some time ago, Risha had realized that he’d been the first man Eva hadn’t tried to sleep with at the first opportunity. He was so different from any other man that had crossed her path. He’d ruined any sense of odds in the betting pool. 

The crew had deleted the pool upon hearing the news, a historical first. 

Some things were more important than credits. 

Eva steadily rose from the chair in front of her desk and pulled on the Voidhound’s coat.  The silence carried on as she pulled on the large hat that would obscure her face from the sun and from curious eyes, latching it around her chin, hair obscured.  She brushed by Risha on the way out the door.

Risha felt the rage, tightly coiled in her friend’s form.

At first, it had been fun to create the alter ego – something Eva could hide behind and be more serious than she was – a twenty-year-old silly spacer.  It was something Risha could use to distract and leave people off balance when they saw Eva and the Voidhound in the same place. 

They’d started playing with it after they got the privateer gig.  After Hylo left the ship, Eva seemed more keen on making it something to fear. 

It didn’t have a name until after Corellia, until the press got ahold of the story.  The liberator of Corellia, the slayer of the Voidwolf – and the smuggler who’d played the Republic and the Empire to make her own empire. 

Time had turned the Voidhound into an avatar that concealed Eva’s emotions and removed any hesitance toward what had to be done, no matter what.  It was something for Eva to become, to turn into, rather than something that hung in her closet until needed.   

Now, sometimes, Eva was left to hang in the closet while the Voidhound roamed.

Risha quietly began to pick up the mess, left behind in the wake. 

**

Risha and Akaavi watched the sensors in the hallway to the cockpit as the mission to the Revanite camp progressed.  “Stars.”  That’s all Risha could say as she watched the ship’s sensors picked up life forms around them. Then as Eva moved from the ship into the camps, the lights flickered out. 

“The penalty for treason in the Republic and in the Empire is death, all the same.  She merely skips the trial and concludes at the inevitable,” Akaavi reminded her. 

“Why aren’t you down there, then?” Risha asked, eyes never leaving the screen.

“The Wookiee is noble.  He’ll be her conscience.”  Peripherally, Risha saw Akaavi’s lips snarl.  “I cannot say I would be a good influence, after the trickery that has occurred.”

“You’d take out the Sith?”

A pause.  Then. “I once said there was no honor amongst this crew, except for Bowdaar.  Somehow, the Sith has stooped beneath our captain.  The agent wasn’t weak.  He was not a coward.”  Akaavi only hesitated a moment. “He trusted me and my skill despite most Mandalorians’ alliance to the Sith Empire.  He trusted us  criminals, as we trusted him to guide us.  The Sith failed him, and I suspect deliberately.”

That didn’t make Risha feel any less angry about the situation.  “As much as Theron had us play for the Republic…he never let a hair on her pretty head be blown astray.”

“Bowdaar won’t let her kill her.  He is the best of us, even if that is tainted by his own affections.”  Akaavi stared at the lights that went dim.  “You remember Voss?”

Risha shifted her weight, eyes unable to move from the screen.  “Yeah.”

“Did you ever hear about the name the Gormak created for her?”

“Yeah.”  Risha tore her eyes away from the screen and began to move toward the galley, just to get away.  “The Death That Walks.  She’s nightmare fodder for the children on that planet.”

Akaavi scoffed behind her. “Not for the Gormak.  She culled the weak.  She is fearsome.  She is just.”

Risha approached the door to the captain’s quarters.  She stopped in front of the door, considering it.  “We’d like to think that, wouldn’t we?”

Then she moved on toward her destination.

**

The Captain and Bowdaar returned late.  No more little lights flashed on the sensors. 

Food was shoveled down. 

Sleep for the Wookiee came easily. 

Eva sat in her quarters.  She went through the motions of preparing for bed.  She tried to focus on the anger at Lana, at the Revanites, and hell, even Jakarro for letting Lana—

But the rage that had swallowed her up at midday wasn’t enough.  Other feelings were stronger as she spent her frustrations, and they made her weak.

She didn’t want to feel anymore. 

They made her want to sink to her knees and beg three distant moons for ---

She didn’t want to feel anymore. 

Fingertips ran down the smooth finish of the old box.  It wasn’t a question of would-she-won’t-she.  It was a question of the dose. 

She didn’t want to feel anymore.

But – he –

No more.

**

Chapter Text

18 hours, at least.  He figured he had another five minutes to himself in the darkness before they tried again.

The initial beatdown wasn’t too bad.  Didn’t lose any teeth, anyway.

No food. 

Better that way.  Nothing to vomit up when the next round of beatings came.  Two and three weren’t great.

Minimal access to water, minus when they’d submerged his face for a minute forty five. every two minutes for an hour.

They’d get much better results if they randomized the frequency and duration, but he wasn’t going to tell them that.

He was starting to cramp in the humidity, as he sat with his legs splayed out in front of him, hands cuffed up behind his head.  Classic stress position.

There is no death, there is the force.

He’d had use of a bucket in a corner, though the need had grown less and less as the water supply dwindled.

When something sweet had been put in the water, Theron had spat it out at his captors, who held his face upward and forced the drink down his throat – or had tried to.

That last beatdown …inspired… motivated … Theron knew something was wrong and there was no amount of meditation that was going to fix that. 

But he wasn’t going to break.

No.  All they ever got was his service number and “I am a disavowed Republic agent.  I do not work in the interests of my government.” 

When he was questioned about the Sith: “I am a disavowed Republic agent.  I do not work in the interests of my government.”

When he was questioned about the Wookiee smuggler:  “I am a disavowed Republic agent.  I do not work in the interests of my government.”

When he was questioned about a ghost ship and her crew: “I am a disavowed Republic agent.  I do not work in the interests of my government.”

When he was questioned about his lover, that smuggler woman on Katalla, and told him they had her: “I am a disavowed Republic agent.  I do not work in the interests of my government.”

He knew they were lying, especially when they went into detail about they’d degrade her, pass her around, then leave her wailing on the floor with him when she had nothing left.

He knew her.  And he knew her crew.  She was safe.

“I am a disavowed Republic agent.  I do not work in the interests of my government.”

Abstractly, Theron was intrigued that they didn’t degrade him.  They left him in his clothes.  They didn’t make him soil himself.  When they ran a current of electricity through his feet, they kept it just below the point where he’d lose control of his bodily functions.

He’d already turned off his non-critical implants, so the headache hadn’t been too bad.  Again, it was patterned and predictable; he could tolerate it. 

For some ungodly reason, they were torturing him while letting him keep his dignity.  He was sleep deprived, hungry, dehydrated, battered, and scraped up.  But nothing permanent.

They said they knew his name.  They did.  He didn’t care.  He didn’t give it to them.  He gave them nothing.

But why were they giving him anything? 

His five minutes were up.  He heard footsteps toward him, and he tensed his muscles one more time to prepare to take the blow.  He exhaled and ignored his lungs’ increasingly shaky demands for more air. It was hard to draw in due to the bruising, his hands tied above his –

And then he felt the durasteel stun cuffs release.  “Drop your hands.”

That voice.

Revan.

Theron carefully let his hands drift down in front of him, and before they could tell him otherwise, he changed his position, his numb hips tingling as proper blood flow was restored.  His eyes searched the absolute darkness they’d left him in. 

And then he felt it.  There was no subtlety, no attempt to distract or obscure what was being done.

Theron felt someone attempt to rifle through his mind, like a curious scholar trying to flip through books that were chained shut.  That was the image he cast out –

Theron placed himself in the Jedi library on Tython. Nearly everything had been converted to datapad, but there were still a few dusty old tomes lying around.  He drew on his memories the few times he’d been there with … someone.  The lighting was wrong.  He stood at the circulation desk, watching a dark shrouded figure at the far end of the room attempting to find – something.

Then the figure looked at him.  A well-leashed fear crept up Theron’s spine as the mask tilted slightly to speak.  “You are gifted.”

“Not exactly.” 

He could hear himself and him.  Not with his ears, no.  But through some ethereal breeze that ran through the room in his mind --

“My son was like you.”

“You never knew your son.”

“You never knew your father.”

The volley was unexpected, but Theron didn’t move, didn’t immediately say anything back.  He just watched him in the eerie light –

Revan was changing the mindscape.   

Suddenly, they were on Manaan.

“I know who I am.”  Revan’s voice skipped across the water, like a carefully chosen flat stone.

Whoever this was, the person was Force-Sensitive and knew of Revan’s history, both recent and further back. 

“So do I.”

Theron shoved forward worthless memories.  Swoop racing.  He was on his bike, at top speed.  He felt the phantom tickle of when his hair was much, much longer on the nape of his neck. 

His face was obscured by his helmet, and there were hundreds of other swoop riders that looked exactly like him.  He ran the race, anonymous in the swarm of bikes that crowded the Manaan track. 

“You hide.  It is your profession and your devotion.  But you could serve an even greater cause – do more for your family and its name than any other.”

An image was pressed forward of a woman with light eyes - the holos Theron knew her from were ancient and accessible only for vital research.

Then a more familiar face — Satele.  Her descendant.  Revan’s — theirs.

The dark figure stood in the middle of the swoop race, the other bikes swerving around him.  He observed.  He remembered.

“I wasn’t even born with this name.” 

“You chose it once you knew it was yours.  You have a greater fate –”

Theron felt the bike wobble under him, as if unbalanced – Revan had been on Tython.  He’d been on Manaan.  He knew these places, just as Theron did. 

Spike of terror – who was in charge of Theron’s mind right now?

To prove he could – that he was ---

Nar Shaddaa.  Still on the bike.  Flying through traffic, barely dodging the speeders and the freight haulers that caused gridlock.  The pollution, the yellow fog –

Theron let himself sink down into it. 

Burst of light.  Theron watched a small creation – something no longer than a tip of a finger produced life deep inside that dying planet. 

Revan had been here too.

“Parted by hundreds of years, you follow my footsteps.”

“It’s a small galaxy, what can I say?”

Theron let a warm weight at his back steer him to a different memory on a swoop bike.  Galaxy had gotten bigger since Revan had wandered around, even during his brief stint on Tython.

Revan had never been here. 

“Who is she?”

Change of plans.  Theron jumped from the speeder, escaping her arms.

She didn’t need to get roped into this family drama. 

With a soft pfthump, Theron let himself land upon a great pile of snow.  The Mandalorian Wars hadn’t reached here, directly.  Revan hadn’t been here.

“You must listen.  Everyone you hold dear will be consumed, devoured by him.”

With a frustrated grunt, Theron drew himself to his feet and started to stalk through the forests of Alderaan.  “I will stop you from tearing the galaxy apart.”

Distantly, Theron heard cannon fire and blaster bolts and the crushing of trees. The smell of burning filled his nose. 

No, he wasn’t the one in control.  These weren’t his memories. 

But how—

Then—

Great Maker.

As the history holotexts had conveyed, almost 29 years before, Satele Shan vaulted across the field, her lithe figure making swift work of all obstacles that stood before her. Her focus was fixed, her target obvious: Malgus. 

As Malgus’s lightsaber met her staff, there was no doubt that his physical strength was greater. Beyond the initial inertia, Satele’s attack soon shifted to a defensive stance as Malgus hammered away at her staff.

Theron knew this was not real. Satele was on her capital ship somewhere. She wasn’t yanking a tree down to give herself an edge only to find herself thrown, like a ragdoll against another.  Then she wasn’t disarmed.  Theron kept telling himself that she wasn’t driven to her knees, using all of her control of the Force to prevent Malgus from running that lightsaber through her hands and right through her heart.

Theron existed. Therefore, there was only one ending.  He kept his logic firmly in control here.

Then a battle cry, and a huge trooper hurled himself into Malgus.

Jace’s voice filled his mind, the memory from a caf shop on Coruscant unwillingly yanked from him.  “I did the math. There was the Republic’s best hope, there was the Empire’s invasion leader, and there I was, with a grenade.  There wasn’t a choice.”

Theron heard his own voice – no, that’s not yours, he shrieked at the intruder – he heard his own voice ask, “Any last thoughts?”

“For the Republic.”

The slight movement of a thumb, and suddenly, Theron’s face was ripped off as he was thrown backwards, away from Malgus. 

Jace had said he didn’t feel anything due to the blast rendering him unconscious and then the shock when he finally did get up.

Revan made sure Theron felt all of that agony.

The raw wound made it excruciating to even cry out, the dirt forced into it as his limp body rolled across the forest floor.  Theron felt the scrape of it as he slid the final few feet, the throbbing and the continued burning of his skin, the longer it was untreated.  The severed nerves spat jolts of pain at each breath Theron drew into his misshapen mouth.

The pain.

Something pulled him upright by his hair – the stretch of his skin upward on his face pulled a sob from him  -- and forced him to look.

Satele and Malgus were gone. 

Revan remained, pushing back on some great dark force.

No, Force.  The Force. That Great Darkness that stood in opposite to the Great Light.

But Revan was not alone.

Another dark, shrouded figure stood in the smoldering remains of the forest.  It was immense and yet vested in just a person.  It was incorporeal yet the most solid thing Theron had ever seen. 

“I kept him for centuries.  Now he is free.  I must destroy him, regardless of the governments, regardless of sides, regardless of divisions in the galaxy.”

Revan extended an arm to Theron, using the other to keep that dark force at bay.  Theron felt himself being dragged toward him and that great looming monstrosity.

“Join me.  It is your birthright.  Your family has fought him for centuries – finish him.  Help me set us all free from him.  You – and people like you – won’t suffer anymore.”

Through the agony, Theron struggled to his feet.   “Not at your price.  No.”

The wave of anger that washed over Theron was punctuated by Revan increasing the pain, driving Theron back down to his knees.  Theron clenched his teeth so hard he thought they’d crack.

Suddenly, Theron’s vision was gone, and he was left only with pain and a blinding white light, images shoved at him in a fury.

“My price?  I have been imprisoned for hundreds of years.  I watched my family and their families and their families’ families fight and die.”

Vaner Shan dying never knowing Revan, his father.

“Be exiled.”

A woman saying her goodbyes to – oh, god, he knew – Satele, he knew – and then Tasiele walked away, leaving her behind to be raised by strangers.

“Suffer.”

The whispers, the shame, the need to prove herself beyond any doubt that she was nothing like the mother and the faceless father she never had a chance to ask about. 

“Be abandoned by those they most trusted.”

“I am sorry for your loss, but the power of the Force is not within you.  You will never be a Jedi.  There is nothing for you here.”

The deepest pain, ripped up and out and shaken before an unforgiving sun. 

“Reconsider it.”

“No.”  His answer would not change.  Theron would not break.  He would not yield. 

Another barrage of agony – this time, all of his old wounds at once, ripping him apart – somehow, this Revan knew how they felt, how he’d gotten them.

Theron knew he’d survived them once, he’d survive them again. 

And then he was flung down on his prison’s cool clay floor, like a child’s toy that had no longer been adequately amusing.

All the pain was real.

A trembling hand went up to touch his right shoulder – that was the one that would kill him if –

No, it wasn’t reopened.

The tremble graduated to a full-on shake. Theron dragged his hand to his face.  He could no longer feel the sinews of his jaw exposed to open air, but his lip was still busted, his face still scraped up and bruised from what had actually happened.

With a final shudder, his body gave out, and Theron plunged into sweet, blessed unconsciousness.

**

Chapter Text

Day 17

A flickering light gradually lured Lana back to full consciousness.  She raised her head to look out the window at the sky beyond the hut. 

Dawn.  20 hours.  A day here on Rishi. 

Theron had been missing for a day. 

Lana had forced herself into meditative trance to substitute for sleep.  She just couldn’t.  Not after –

She’d done the right thing, the rational thing, the practical thing, the ‘make use of the skillsets at your disposal’ thing.

She wondered whether it was because she was a Sith that it was viewed as cruel or cold.  Or, perhaps it was because Captain Corolastor had feelings for Theron Shan. 

Or there was an illusion of such.  Theron was the vastly more experienced spy; he had multiple fronts running at once. Lana would have been naïve not to think so.  Using the smuggler – whether she knew it or not – would be a convenient distraction to anyone watching.

Theron was a good spy; he kept Lana guessing.  If he survived this, they would be ahead of the Revanites, for once.

Lana waited for Corolastor’s inevitable arrival.  She would come.  She would still be angry.  The best Lana could do was to be prepared and assess the data that had flowed through during the course of Rishi’s short night. 

The cause of the flashing light on her datapad was D4’s morning conversation with the native Rishii that had cleaned Jakarro’s hut and brought a cold breakfast for whenever the Wookiee did wake.  Lana rolled from her stomach to her back in order to crane her neck at the door.  Yes, there was a tray there.  The Rishii were very quiet and considerate of guests.  It certainly helped that Jakarro slept like the dead.  Lana skimmed what D4 had gathered.  Another facility.  Another place to search, if Eva hadn’t already found Theron and simply decided not to tell Lana. 

Lana didn’t think it likely, but she accepted the possibility.  She continued to read the report from D4.  The Rishii had seen great machines and ships that they didn’t quite know how to describe in their native language (D4 had kindly started the conversation in their tongue and only switched to Standard when it came to the technology).  They weren’t shipping freighters or passenger ships. 

That must have been the fleet.  Lana drew in a measured breath as she took the datapad with her toward the waiting breakfast. Grabbing a piece of what she supposed was the Rishii equivalent to toast and jam, Lana crunched through as she read what the Rishii understood of the Revanites here. More had come over the last week – obviously the impact of the cantina incident.

Even after D4’s notification had been dealt with, the light on the datapad still blinked, indicating other transmissions.  Lana marked her place in D4’s report and switched over.  About an hour ago, Corolastor had slice into some computer –

Had she been up all night?  Lana frowned and pulled up the telemetry that Theron had established between the datapad and the smuggler’s crew.  No, there had been a four-hour cessation.  Then Corolastor moved, alone, without Bowdaar. 

Oh, he must have been so mad when she came back in.  Lana consulted her chrono.  Having observed Bowdaar, he must have insisted she sit and eat whether she liked it or not.  That would take time.  That gave Lana about fifteen minutes to run analysis on whatever Corolastor had sliced. 

Best get to it.

**

He knew he was aching and sore before he was fully conscious.  Theron didn’t know how much time had passed since –

That hadn’t been fun. 

But he hadn’t given in.

His muscles twitched, as they remembered what they thought they’d experienced. 

He really needed a drink of water.

As if by magic, Theron felt a cup nudging his hand.  He froze, stilling any subtle movement of waking.  He did not grasp it.

“You are far more valuable alive than dead.”

Yeah, that was probably her logic at the time.  She wasn’t wrong so far.

(Keep the thoughts shallow, never scraping beyond the surface. Give him nothing. Learn from last time.)

“Drink.  It’s unaltered.”

Theron rose to his knees, got into a somewhat comfortable position, and then wrapped his heavy hands around the cup.  His fingers felt as if they’d been ground down into the earth, swollen.

(Subtly, he activated his detoxification implants with a bit of pressure on his teeth, which were miraculously still in his head.)

Theron knew it wasn’t over. Drinking water would make little difference, even if it was dosed; Revan was a mindtrip on his own.  All the same, he couldn’t reactivate his implants.

(in case they decided to electrocute him again)

“It would make little difference.  There is a signal jammer that prevents inbound and outbound signals from Republic and Imperial ships and assets.”

“Good to know,” he said flippantly.  “Any reason for keeping the lights out?”

A pause.  Then. “No.”

The lights came up.  Theron absorbed his environment, most of which he’d already sussed out.  Bucket in the corner.  Plain duracrete walls.  Clay floor.  Durasteel door, no devices on the inside.

And nobody in here with him.

Huh.  That wasn’t expected.

The voice, which was clearly in his head only, explained. “I have gone ahead to prepare the way.  The operation here on Rishi is in full motion.  Nobody can stop it.”

“Force projection.  Neat trick.”  He wasn’t here before either, then.  Theron inspected the water and the cup it was in.

“That is real.  You are aware of the properties of the Star Forge – it creates from almost nothing.”

(Of course, he would retain pieces.  Or have his cultists bring them to him.)

Theron sat silently, drinking his water. 

“Are you not curious about the plan?” 

“You said I can’t stop it.”

“But you still can join it.  Your mind is clouded by the indoctrination you’ve received from the Republic.  From the Jedi.  You cannot fully see.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“But you would not let yourself be blind to the dangers of the Emperor, if you knew.”

(Theron let a small ripple of surprise flow through him.  That was believable.)

“If I knew what?  Was not the Emperor slain by the Hero of Tython?”

“Not slain, yet not living – the Jedi would keep him in limbo, while the Sith would put him back on his throne.  Only I – with my followers – can stop him.”

“And you want me to hop on the bandwagon?”

“You see beyond the conflict of Force Users and their philosophies.  Unlike your mother.”

(Don’t react.)

Theron let the last of the water lap up against his lips, then let it flow back toward the bottom of the cup as he put it down.  “Have you pitched this idea to her?”

“No.  I do not believe she can be convinced of the truth.  She knows better, yet she now leads the Republic here blindly.”

Theron shook his head.  “She has no business at Rishi.  Nobody does.”

“You did.  So did the Sith.”

“My business was related to you disrupting the galaxy.  Corrupting the Republic. Smuggling Rakata tech, which has the tendency to destroy planets.  Ruining trade in this sector – which belongs to the Republic, by the way.” 

He said nothing about the Sith.  What Sith?

“Yes.  Profits will drive Republic and Empire here to investigate.   Then I shall make them all see.”

“With your fleet, I suppose.” 

(Set out the bait, prove to him you’re as clever and ‘gifted’ as he thinks you are.)

“And their own.  My followers are legion.”

(Thousands.  They aren’t all here.  They’re everywhere.)

“The leaders of the Sith and Jedi will converge here, and I shall clear the board for the rest of us who would put aside petty squabbling – the politics of this galaxy.”

Theron stared at the cup in front of him on the floor.  “And then what? You take the two largest fleets in the galaxy – where?  To do what?”

Theron felt a spike drive through him, and he fought not to scream.

“And I thought you weren’t curious.”

**

Lana steepled her fingers in front of her mouth as she thought, datapad cast aside.  Risha Drayen had been right.

Before Lana could digest this all any further, she felt a presence.  Her.  Lana knew she was there before she turned around.  The fury radiated off Captain Corolastor, even as she kept herself cloaked in a cold discipline.  That Voidhound persona was something… unexpectedly different from the Captain she’d worked with previously. 

Lana knew there was no point in a calming suggestion or a slight manipulation to make her less hostile toward her; that had failed yesterday, with no effect.  Corolastor’s mind was nowhere near Theron’s level of discipline; she simply seemed to have a natural resistance against the Force.  Her mind seemed to be impenetrable.

Lana could sense Bowdaar as well, disquieted by the circumstances but most of all, concerned for his Captain.  Lana readied herself, then turned to face her.  “Good morning.  The Rishii told us about some disturbances in the camps.”

The movement of her head and body as Corolastor entered the hut was serpentine.  “Both Imp and Pub were dealt with.”  Flattened affect, nothing in the eyes.  “Went back for data recovery. I sliced in to find that there was a third camp.”  A flicker of an emotion crossed her face, but it strangled before it manifested in anything more.  “Theron is being held there in a stronghold nearby.  Did you find anything else in the data I sent you?”

“The valley facility?  We just learned about it ourselves. The Rishii tell us there are quite a few starships hidden in the vicinity.”  Lana noticed Jakarro creeping into the hut, but she kept her eyes on Corolastor.

The Captain nodded almost imperceptibly.  “Revan’s fleet.”

“Precisely. And according to the Nova Blades’ datalogs you sent me, his plan is moving swiftly.  Risha was correct.”  Lana grabbed her datapad, opened the file, and held it out to Corolastor.  She didn’t take it.  She simply looked over at it as Lana continued to speak.  “Fleets from the Empire and the Republic are approaching as we speak, likely ready to accuse each other of galactic piracy in this sector and its neighbors.  It’s trivial in a war, but it would be convenient for warmongers on both sides.”

Lana decided to pull the datapad back – the offer would not be taken.  “These aren’t just small patrol groups – both navies have gathered their most powerful warships. They’re being overseen directly by Darth Marr and Satele Shan.”  Lana paused.  “I don’t think this is accidental.  Darth Marr was my superior.  Grand Master Shan – you are cognizant of her significance to both Revan and Theron.”

“And I would guess these would be the first two people you would attempt to tell about the conspiracy?” 

Lana nodded.  That had always been Theron’s and her plan. 

Captain Corolastor finally betrayed some sort of emotion.  Her lip curled back in displeasure.  “I wouldn’t normally turn down a VIP party, but this one is going to get even uglier than we thought.”

“This talk is pointless!” boomed Jakarro, impatient and probably in need of a caf fix. “We know where Theron is, we should go after him.”

Corolastor took the cue and asked, “What do we know about the Revanite facility?”

Lana let her mind knit together the disparate pieces of information they’d gathered so far.  “It seems to be their primary operating center on Rishi.  Heavy security, with only one clear path of approach.”  She paused as she turned a few options over in her mind.  No. No good.  “You’ll have to attack straight on if we’re to have any hope of rescuing Theron and stopping this fleet battle.”  Lana bit back the urge to apologize; there was nothing to be sorry for.  This was reality, and regret for that served no purpose. 

Corolastor didn’t notice or express any hesitance on the matter.  “Then that is what I’ll do,” she said, simply.  She was already turning to walk out the door, Bowdaar following along in her wake.

Lana raised her voice as the pair left.   “We’ll assist you in any way that we can. Good luck.”

She didn’t know if they heard her at all.

Jakarro sat himself down in a chair along the wall and dug into the rest of Lana’s breakfast, uninvited.  “Little space harpy doesn’t need your help,” he said candidly.  “Especially not while she’s –”  He gestured at the space where she had once occupied.

“The Voidhound is self-sufficient.  And terrifying,” D4 concurred.

Lana simply turned her attention back to her datapad, raising it up slightly to show the pair. “This isn’t the mainframe, but I can slice things from here.  Theron did teach me a few things – left behind some tools on this as well.”  She stared down at it.  “I will be useful.”

She said it as much to reassure herself as she did to assert herself here.

Lana hadn’t calculated the personal cost of letting Theron be captured.  She hadn’t calculated that others wouldn’t see it her way…

…and she hadn’t calculated how she would feel about all of that.

No matter.  Not until he was retrieved.  Or recovered, chimed in a petulant voice.

Lana threw herself into the data, blocking out the presence of the Wookiee and his droid.

**

Theron felt as if he’d been impaled on a meat hook and left to dangle.  He knew reality was that he was sitting on the floor of his cell, alone.  Revan kept pressing images of the galaxy into his mind.  Unlike his torturers, he was actually good at their job.  The images were presented at random at infrequent intervals.  Injustice.  Starvation.  Oppression.  Slavery.

Then Revan started getting personal. 

An old man, hiding among slaves to witness the atrocity of the Empire.  His sanity was ground to dust.

Theron did not flinch. 

(He knew, he already knew.)

The obvious images of Satele on her ship, speeding toward Rishi.  Then, Darth Marr’s fleet, on intercept. 

(She always could handle herself in a fight.)

Then Revan threw in a memory of a Jedi master being shot down at the gangplank of a shuttle –

Then back to Satele, drinking her tea in her quarters, unaware of what she was flying into.

“That would affect you, would it not?”

“And you think me betraying the Republic wouldn’t affect her?  Or him?  You don’t need to show me him sitting in his office on Coruscant.  You made your point earlier about his suffering.”

That only made Revan pause a moment. 

“Not all those you care about are in the Republic.”

Teff’ith in her new ship, a matter of pride for her (and for Theron). 

Teff’ith before he got in her way.  A drug smuggler.  A slave runner.  That squalling, screeching unwilling companion that somehow, the Master thought was redeemable.

Theron sat still, his face impassive.  “I enjoy working with her.  For the Republic.” 

“You believe in a better future.  For those in and out of the Republic.”

Eva Corolastor in her ship, running system checks, in her element.

Eva, with all pretense stripped away, just having a cup of caf with him in the early morning hours.

That swoop bike ride on the way to the spaceport, her arms around him, body pressed to his back –

“Perhaps even for yourself. You abandoned that thought earlier.”

(He’s intrigued by the girl.)

“I enjoy working with her.  For the Republic.” 

“Is that all?”

They sat on the bench outside SIS, Eva’s empty sleeve waving in the slight breeze.  Words flittered in and out of hearing – attachment, mutuality, unrequited, unattached, outside the bounds –

(Honest feelings to do dishonest work. She’d approve.)

“Don’t show me her suffering.”

(Too much?)

“People like my son, like you, like her -- they are trampled on by these wasteful governments.  You think for yourselves and refuse to accept purist ideologies that play to the extremes of Light and Dark.  The Republic and Empire seek her, do they not?”

“She is a criminal.”

“She is more. You know that.  What happens to her after she has served her purpose to your Republic?”

Theron did not answer. 

(He kept his mind deliberately blank.)

Revan was silent.  Waiting.

(A tiny piece of a dream.  Push it as reality, carefully, pull it back, as if trying to hide it.)

A stray thought, hooked and dragged up to the surface. 

“No,” Theron said, weakly.

Revan let the fragment of a long-awaited moment alone, free of conspiracy or guise, roll around in the mindspace between him and Theron. He had him.

(He had him.)

Abruptly, Revan broke the silence.  “I must go.  I await you on Yavin 4.  Bring the asset.  I have use for her.”

Theron glared into the empty room.  “I won’t go.  We won’t go.”

“You will.  And you will bring her, if she is to be spared.”

Theron slumped forward and caught himself with his hands on the floor as Revan’s presence left him. The piercing sensations were gone from his shoulders. 

Theron steadied himself.  Revan could clearly see the past.  But the future?

Revan’s conviction that he would go to Yavin was absolutely correct.  He’d go to Yavin. 

And bring an armada with him.  

Now to wait.  Consider the offer.  And then he’d escape. 

**

The last Revanite camp in the valley was massive.  It was a space port unto itself.  If Eva had any innocence left to her, she’d be scandalized at how an operation so large could have been created on a planet that was governed by the Republic.

Eva had none, and she sneered at the situation; she supposed this was a textbook lesson in not neglecting one’s planets.  Much like herself, it was apparent that neither the Pubs nor the Imps read that bit.  At least she had the decency to be honest about her lack of rigorous study. 

She holstered her blaster and stepped over the bodies of the Revanites that had been manning this small guard station, strangely removed from the rest of the complex.  That got her thinking.  Was this complex was still bigger yet?  And had they just found the way point?

This was already horrifyingly large.  She and Bowdaar didn’t have the time or the resources to sabotage the few remaining ships on the field.  She had comm’ed Lana and told her that the fleet was already airborne.  Then they cut fuel lines and fried the electronics that were easily accessible…but that wouldn’t make a difference.  Not now. 

Bowdaar crooned at her, “Captain, a security panel.  It looks more important.”

Eva’s quick eyes ran over the screen, and then she sliced in.  “You’re very right.  Omnitool is too slow for this.”  She hit her wrist comm.  “Lana.  I’m hooked into a security computer –”

“I’m on it” came the quick answer.  She sounded overeager to do something to fix what had happened. 

It wasn’t going to be that easy.  No matter how fast she was.

Thirty seconds passed.  “And… in.  Theron’s toys make all of this slicing much simpler than I’d imagined.”  Lana’s image appeared on the holo projector attached to the computer, and Eva could see her reading the data.  Her lips moved slightly, reflecting the speed that she was trying to digest the data. 

“Can you find any hard data on his location?”  Eva looked over at Bowdaar, who paced behind her, eyes on the door. 

“Let’s see.  You’re off the main compound,” Lana remarked with a frown as she looked at the data. 

Eva raised a shoulder up and down.  “This is a glorified space port with living quarters attached.  It doesn’t have prisoner facilities or even a main operations hub.  We’re missing something.”

Lana nodded and her breath caught. “Here we are. Recorded interrogation sessions.”

The hair on Eva’s neck and arms stood upright as a chill passed through her.  The thought of him tortured --

“I can’t access them – I’m still not good enough for that yet.”  Eva bit back the “good” that almost spilled out of her mouth.  “But the coordinates as to where the interrogations took place—they’re included. I’ll forward them along.”

Eva took the transmission as she asked, coolly, “What about Revan?  Any indication of his exact whereabouts?”

“No information either way.  I’d advise caution.”

“Fine.”

Eva cut the comm quickly.  Bowdaar grumbled at her.  “Don’t you even start, Bowie.  Would you keep your manners if she did that to me?” 

At her words, his face hardened.   

“I thought so.”

As Eva strode out into the sun, she felt the black blastweave warm again.  Her commlink went off, the signal emanating from the safehouse.  Eva noted the distinctive jingle.  “T3?”

“T3 = left behind,” he plaintively chirped.  “T3 = hidden in basement.  Sith = tried to shut down.  Sith = bad with Pub tech.” 

She seriously didn’t have time for this.  “Things happened fast.”

“Theron Shan implants = offline.”

That brought her up short.  “What do you mean, offline?  He turns them off –”

“Offline = no Pub frequency available.”

Eva stared at her wristcomm as Bowdaar caught up to her.  “Pub subspace frequencies are everywhere.  So are Imp ones.  That’s impossible.”

“Government frequencies = jammed.  Local network = open.  Port Nowhere = open.  Hutt Cartel = open.”

Eva’s mind raced as Bowdaar puzzled over the idea.  “Let’s go, Bowie.  I think we’re gonna have company a lot sooner than we thought.”

With that, the Captain and her Wookiee broke out into a dead run.

**

Enough time had passed.

Theron sprang to his feet, and every inch of his body protested at that stupid action.  “Guard!  Guard!” he called out as he stalked toward the door.  He rapped on it, his hands sore.

His right side had started to swell up.  That probably wasn’t good, but it didn’t hurt.  Left side? Awful. Cracked ribs.  Sore muscles.  He needed more water.  His face hurt to move.

An intercom crackled to life.  “What?”

Theron was breathless, mostly because he couldn’t take a full breath, but he hoped it’d be read as over-eagerness or excitement.  “I want to take Master Revan’s offer.  To go to Yavin 4.”

A hand went over the comm, and Theron could hear mumbling and some debate on the other end.  How many? Two, three? 

Theron cautiously stepped back away from the door as the conversation dragged on.  Too long, and they’d probably decided he was full of it and blast him when the door opened. 

Well, it had been worth a shot. 

Finally, the door slid open.  A long hallway lay before Theron, and there were just three guards outside his cell.  The superior officer beckoned from slightly further up the hallway.  “Come, heir of Revan.”

Guess he’d told them about the family tree. 

As Theron walked, legs stiff, he noticed the guard closest to him opening his arms.  The other guard of lower rank stood behind him, as if in a receiving line.

Seriously?  Seriously?  This –

As Theron was pulled into a welcoming hug, he grinned. 

Too easy, he thought as he threw his arms around the man, and swiftly grabbed at the other guard’s blasters, unguarded in their holsters.

**

Eva’s gut feeling about the compound had been correct:  the main operations center and its fortifications were separated from the fleet.  They were heavily guarded.

The Wookiee and his Captain burned through the Revanites before reaching the interior of the operations center.  Eva stalked around the main table, looking for any sign of life.  “I hope they didn’t bug out and take him already.”  They’d already started to evac out.  Where to? 

The coordinates were accurate within a half a of a click.  Theron had been here, somewhere.  No flimsi remained.  There were empty shelves that once held documentation of some sort.  The labels had been ripped off.

Bowdaar whimpered softly.  “He’s here.” 

Bowie must have smelled human blood.  To him, it was distinctive and pungent, no matter the quantity.  The tension wound tighter in her, and not a single cultist she had killed relieved any of it. 

Eva internally startled when the holoviewer booted up by itself.  Externally, she simply stopped moving and glared.  Revan’s image flickered to life.  “Another pointless attack.”

Eva flatly demanded, “Where’s Theron?”

“He and I have had some… interesting conversations.” 

Eva mused privately that that family reunions were typically torturous in entirely different ways than this one apparently had been.  She held her tongue. 

“My own flesh and blood, completely blind to the sacrifices I’ve made.”  Her anger simmered as the voice continued.  “I’ve struggled for centuries to preserve the galaxy. To protect future generations from the most destructive evil that’s ever existed. How can none of you see this?”

“Less talk.   More Theron.  Where is he?” she snapped.

As if on cue, a distant blast shook the facility.  Revan himself seemed divided by annoyance and amusement by this development.  “Not far, it seems.” 

Blaster fire sprayed the hallway beyond the holoviewer, and Eva strode around to get a better look at the action.

The silhouette of a man emerged from the dust at a dead run.  Another second, and that familiar red jacket entered her vision.  His name caught in her throat as she saw his hand slam onto the door actuator, closing it right behind him. Her gut twisted as she saw how battered he was, just before he doubled over to catch his breath. 

Theron Shan.  He had stolen an ugly-as-hell blaster, he was bruised up, his lip was busted open, one of the lights on his implants was definitely out, and she could tell by how he leaned that his left side was tender.

But he was alive, and that was worth a hell of a lot to her right now.

Theron glanced upward at her as she instinctively stepped toward him.  He winced as he straightened up, but his SIS training hid it away as quickly as it had appeared.  “You’re here,” he said, seemingly surprised.  But he moved on so quickly.  “Come on, we have to go, now!”

Revan’s voice intruded.  “Escaped all on your own?  I hoped I would have more time to make you see…”

Theron disregarded the image’s presence and took another few steps toward her, the olive-gold eyes bright with urgency, despite the condition of the face they were set in.  “He’s got a signal jammer that’s blocking all starship communications in the Rishi system.  The fleets will come out of hyperspace practically on top of each other.  No coordination, saboteurs in every crew – it will be a massacre.”

“And at last the board will be cleared of distractions.”  Revan pressed a button on his wrist comm, and his image fizzled out.  A distinctive alarm went up all around the base as another explosion, much closer, shook the floor they stood on. 

Theron grabbed at the console to steady himself.  “It’s a self-destruct sequence.  We’ve got to go now.”

Eva watched as security droids started to flood into the room.  Theron drew closer to her, eyes on the newcomers.  She spoke first.  “I think they have something to say about that.  Fortunately, we do too.”  Eva jerked a spare blaster out of her inner pocket and offered it to Theron.  “You good to go?”

He took the butt of the blaster without hesitating. “As good it gets.”  Their eyes met.

Yeah, this was pretty much as good as it got for a spacer like her, as she almost drowned in relief when he looked at her like that – that despite the circumstances, he could still look at her like that.

“Let’s go, boss,” Bowdaar reminded her just before he charged in to start hacking the droids to pieces.

Eva let the battle take her.  Shoot-outs in space and shoot-outs on the ground had very few differences, once one dropped into the battle, the speed, the rhythm, the flow.  She was distinctly aware of his jacket brushing against her shoulders as he covered her back, as she covered his and Bowie’s, her vision unobscured by swelling.  

She heard him bark an order – to clear a path to a console.  She sighted it.  Her brisk relay in Shyriiwook changed Bowie’s path – he couldn’t think in Basic while fighting. 

At some point, there was a break in the waves of droids that swarmed them.  Eva and Theron darted to new cover.  “How’d you get loose?”

“Tried to grab a guard’s blasters while getting a hug – long story.  I got one blaster” --  Theron held up the ugly one – “and missed the other and got a grenade instead.  Worked out just as well.”  He tried to catch his breath as he watched the door.  “Thanks for the assist.”

“You looked surprised when I showed up.”

Theron’s shoulder rose and fell, and he didn’t look at her.

“You didn’t think I’d come for you?”

“Yeah.  And I’m amazed you made it.  I was awake when they brought me in. This place – ”  Theron shook his head at the memory. 

“Has been redecorated.  When we get out of here, tell me how it looks.”  His initial response bothered her.  They’d talk about it later. 

There was no more time for further conversation; the next round of droids broke through the door Theron had locked behind him. 

An indeterminate amount of time later, and Theron carefully tilted his head. More feet clanked across the floor toward them.  “I don’t hear anything beyond this room.  I think they’re done.”

Eva nodded as she yelled, “Bowie, head for cover.  We gotta slice the console.” 

As the alarm continued to blare, the last droid dropped to pieces at Bowdaar’s feet.  Eva and Theron darted to the console. Eva sliced in, quickly, and she stared at the screen.  Tripartite termination codes required.  There were a few ways of doing this, but there was no time for the omnitool to go on automatic or to hail the Thief for T3’s help. Instinct it was then, and Eva set to slicing the first code while Theron, in coordination, took on the second.  Eva was aware of his heavier than normal breathing.  They’d done a number on him.  She had to get him out of here. 

Third code now.  “I got this one.”  Eva swiftly let her fingers do the work, all the old tricks her father taught her awakening.  The omnitool took the guess work out, but it was so slow compared to her, even if she did make errors. 

She didn’t make any errors.  For a brief, shining moment the screen went green – and then Eva caught sight of a tiny black skull flashing on the screen’s corner and she jerked back instinctively.

“Eva!” Theron yelped as the screen blew out toward her face.  The self-destruct alarm continued to blare.

Her reflexes were good however, and she’d stepped back and gotten both hands up.  Eva’s gloves melted back into their third layer, protecting her but destroying them.  She stared at the ruined gloves before looking up at Theron’s battered, worried face. 

Another peal of the alarm that wasn’t going to stop. 

A stunned “sorry” was all she mustered before the ceiling gave up a great groan. 

Theron grabbed her gloves and pulled her in toward him, the ceiling starting to collapse over their heads.

In the last moments, he had her head tucked under his chin, one hand covering her head and completely crushing her hat while the other hand held her close to him, while she tried to reach to cover his head, only making it to the back of his neck. “Sorry” was his reply, pushed through painfully swollen and split lips.

Suddenly everything stopped.

A clipped, Imperial accent filled the room.  “Hello?  Is everyone all right?”

Bowdaar responded first, with candor, from his position behind a wall support: “Are you kidding me, pretty lady?”

Eva tilted her head slightly to yell at the speaker.  “You shut down the self-destruct?”

“I’m beginning to get the hang of this slicing business!” came the excessively cheery reply.  Bowdaar let out a few choice words in Shyriiwook as he dragged himself up to his feet and over to the spy and the smuggler. 

Theron muttered, “I’ve created a monster.” Eva let out a short humorless laugh, and she felt his arm tighten around her slightly, just before stepping away. 

“You should hurry back.  The Republic and Imperial fleets will be arriving very soon.”  At Lana’s words, Theron’s face became grim. 

Eva realized that Revan may well have told him that his mother was enroute and that she would be among the first to die.

(It was the sort of thing she used to break people as part of VATs.  Akaavi went the direct brutality route, but psychiatric torture – that was Eva’s gift in her cargo hold.)

“Wasn’t planning on staying here anyway,” Eva replied.  She looked over at Theron.

Gods, he looked rough.  Still, his resolve never wavered.   “I’ll meet you back at your base – I need to grab a few things on the way out.” Theron holstered his acquired blasters and began to move back into the building. 

“Theron—” Eva raised her voice to object, but the look Theron gave as he turned to look over his shoulder silenced her.

“I need to police the recordings.”

His interrogations.  Oh.  Because – Lana – slicing. 

“Fine.  But you meet us in front, through here,” she replied.  She was using her captain’s voice again, and it caused him to turn around.  She couldn’t read the expression on his face, so she clarified.  “We’ll take care of transportation.  You take care of your loose ends.  We leave together.”

She saw his shoulders rise and fall once, some smile or frown threatening his face, before he turned back to deal with the recorded evidence of his torture. 

Bowdaar drew up next to her.  “You got the medical tracker on him?”

“Did the best I could – didn’t expect him to grab me by the gloves, but it was pre-loaded on the holdout trigger.  Back of the neck.”

“Tell him when he’s outside  – he doesn’t need two women lying to him.”

Chapter Text

That had gone on longer than he thought. 

Theron systematically reviewed his interrogation records on fast forward.  He had to admit it was disconcerting to see himself talking to an empty room in darkness.  At the same time, the holo recording made him feel less mentally unbalanced – especially when the cup of water moved by itself with no assistance.

He hadn’t been broken.  He hadn’t lost it.  This was all real. 

Theron cringed at the headache that was forming, and he gingerly moved a hand toward the side of his head.  A wire immediately poked him.   Oh, and he had at least one implant that needed to be repaired emergently. A glance at the fast-moving holos revealed the absence of one of the lights on his temple.  That indicated his targeting, mapping, and virtual environment for deep dives were out of commission.  The slicing assistant still worked, and Holonet access would work, if he could get a signal. He had understood Bowdaar, which meant his translator was still in order. Theron reached to touch his intact implants, wincing at the contact; even a feather-light touch from his gloved hand was… torturous.  He confirmed the signal jammer was working; he couldn’t get anything but the local network that had been set up for the safehouse, the Red Hulls’ warehouse, and Virtue’s Thief. 

Theron sent a quick proof-of-life message to T3.  The little droid sent back a non-verbal celebratory sound.   Theron’s lip pulled upward slightly, but he couldn’t hold the smile for long.  It hurt too much, and he didn’t have the time.

Revan – or whoever he was – was real.  He was a Force User.  He knew the history of the Shan family.  He was strong.  The level of arrogance seemed to be a Force-User exclusive, but that was old news to Theron. He also knew that the Emperor wasn’t completely gone.  That was privy to a limited circle in the Empire and the Republic.  He wondered how far in Lana was on that count.  He’d stitched it together based upon his review of the after-action reports of the Hero of Tython: one to the government and one to the Jedi Council.

Satele would probably forgive him one day for using her credentials, if she ever found out.  If she hadn’t already.

Revan’s intel on Theron was… interesting.  According to the Revan rescued from Maelstrom (something he needed to talk to Eva about), he had been used by the Emperor to see the future.  Seeing his own descendants’ future seemed to be within the realm of plausibility.  This Revan had the past clearly visible to him; the Battle of Alderaan was as real and as accurate as it got. 

The present and future were more questionable things. If this Revan had been an impersonator, there was no way for him to see Theron’s childhood or the smugglers.  To the general public, Theron was an orphan and a faceless employee of SIS.  He wasn’t like his parents (Jace was on a box of cereal once).  Teff’ith and Eva lived outside the boundaries of society; the common person in the galaxy didn’t know they existed.  Most certainly, there was no public record about Theron having caf in Eva’s ship with her. 

Yet, Revan’s intel was spotty.  He could see Eva but not the Voidhound; the Revanites hadn’t confirmed the connection entirely, despite their best efforts. If Revan had confidently said she was the Voidhound, then that would have been the end of her some time ago.  He saw Teff’ith with the new ship, but nothing about the Ascendant Spear. And yet he also saw her with the Sun Razer and Master –

Theron noticed that he’d skimmed through all the interrogation records.  He set everything to be wiped and the drives reformatted.  Then he returned to the problem in his head.

Did Revan still have that ability?  Or had that been truncated or altered by his escape from Maelstrom prison?  Did he rely upon an intelligence network now that he was no longer exclusively focused on that task?  That would explain some of the gaps in his knowledge over the past few years, but close accuracy on anything prior to the Maelstrom Prison break.  Revan had issues remembering Eva, based on his response to her words on Rakata Prime and the seeming lack of connection when he spoke to Theron about her.

Could Revan have combed through his mind and simply used the information against him?  Possibly, but not so likely; he had been fooled by the false memory Theron had --

Yikes, he was going to have to talk to Eva about that. 

Theron shook his head, hard, dismissing the thought.  Not now.  

By throwing a piece of fiction in, Theron had proven that Revan was very fallible; he’d taken the fantasy as fact and given up the Yavin location. But ---  the cost.

He had a lot to think about on his way to prevent the two fleets from destroying each other.

Theron finished wiping the computers in the interrogation suite, then he set his stolen blaster to overload.  He carefully put it down on the table and briskly jogged out of there.

It was… midday?  Afternoon?  Theron had to squint as he exited the building, the rumble of an explosion behind him.  He didn’t know how long he’d been gone.  More than a day, less than two days.  That’s all he could figure out. 

As his eyes adjusted, he saw Bowie talking to Eva from the passenger seat of a parked open-air speeder.  Eva –

Eva was upside down in the driver’s seat.  Her hat – ruined by him – had been discarded in the flatbed of the speeder.  As Theron approached the vehicle, Bowdaar turned to look at him, then said something to Eva.   A boot moved back and forth as she continued to do… whatever it was she was doing. 

He opened his mouth to speak, once he was close enough, but a bare hand came up, her index finger raised to stop him.  “They took the keys.  I can fix it.”  The cover to the steering column was off, and she was carefully tracing which wire went where. 

Theron leaned slightly to try to see her face in the footwell of the speeder.  “How?”

“If I can hotwire it, I can fly it; courtesy of Hadrian Corolastor’s Finishing School for Six-Year Old Smugglers.  I fit down here a LOT easier when I was six, though.” 

Theron held back a laugh; his gut hurt too much to actually let loose.  “Though you didn’t joke as the Voidhound.”

Bowdaar gestured with an upturned palm. “She isn’t joking.”

There was zap, and Eva cursed as she wrenched her hand away and shook out the shock.   “I got it.”  There was another zap, but this time, the speeder started up. 

And not a moment too soon – a blaster rifle shot hit the ground three feet from Theron’s left foot.  “Sniper!”  Theron suddenly found himself capable of running around to the far end of the speeder and somehow hoisting himself onto the flatbed, innards screaming the entire way. His shoulder giving a particularly emphatic crackle and crunch as he landed on it, then he reached to pull up the tailgate to give himself some cover.

Bowdaar was trying to move Eva from her inverted position but another shot ricocheted off the speeder’s hood.  “Kark this – Bowie, steering wheel.”

Bowdaar grabbed the wheel, gave it a hard turn, and then the speeder was off like a shot.  Eva was flooring it with her hand as she tried to flip around without giving Bowdaar a boot to the face. 

Theron lay on his back in the speeder and watched another bolt fly over his head. He grunted as the vehicle hit a nasty bump in the road.  He wasn’t going to die today; it just felt like it.

Somehow, Eva managed to get herself right-side up in the moving vehicle, sliding to the edge of the speeder seat to let Bowie budge over into the driver’s position.  As she rose up to shift into the flatbed next to Theron, another bolt whizzed by.    Eva jerked her blasters and set down a cover spray as she straddled the top of the seat.  In the brief respite that followed, she unceremoniously flopped down onto the flatbed next to Theron, taking cover behind the tailgate.

Another shot dinged the tailgate.

Then another skimmed the top of the vacant passenger seat, and the smell of burnt plastic filled the air. 

Eva re-holstered one blaster, then rifled through her coat.  “How fast you going, Bowie?”

He howled something back at her, and Eva seemed to run numbers in her head.  Theron watched as she timed her smoke grenades, pitching one at a time to provide them a long trail of smoke cover.  Then she was up on her knees, firing through the cloud cover to make sure nobody was following them. 

And then there was silence, minus the roar of the engine as Bowie flew through the Rishi jungle.  Theron dully watched the landscape disappear behind them as the speeder continued its journey.  He heard Eva say his name, then shake his shoulder when he didn’t immediately respond.  Gods, he was exhausted. “I’m fine,” he finally answered, tearing his eyes away from the smoke to look up at her.

Theron had expected the Voidhound to be staring back at him, all emotionless and cold.  He hadn’t expected Eva.  How she was looking at him at this second made him want to melt under her warmth. Theron could tell she’d been so damn worried.  He could see the relief, but also -- 

He didn’t want to read any deeper into those eyes.

A mix of emotions flooded him, and Theron internally berated himself.  She wanted to help him, and here he was, wanting to push her away, tell her he didn’t need her.  It was made worse by the fact that her guise was falling away, literally; the hat was already destroyed.  The gloves had melted down, and now she reached for him with bare hands.   

Theron tensed in anticipation of the pain that would come with handling by another person.  It didn’t come.  Instead, worst of all, her eyes grew softer out of concern for him.  “Can you sit up, at all?”  She held out her hands for him to grasp or lean forward or invite or something.

Theron closed his eyes and nodded, gritting his teeth as he started to push himself upright.  He felt her hands on him, helping him bend more gently forward, a hand for him to hold.  For a fleeting second, Theron was sorely tempted to let himself lean on her and let her hold him.  The urge was squashed by the jolt of pain from his ribs.   He hissed.

“Easy, don’t go too fast. We got a ways to go before we get out of this cesspit.”  Theron opened his eyes to see her casting a disdainful look at the road beneath them.  No, she wasn’t looking at the road.

Theron stared out at the devastated Revanite camps.  The light of the afternoon was piercing and bright by itself.  The way it bounced off the smoldering ruins of the camp was downright harsh.  He could smell things still burning.  He could smell bodies, about a day old.  Theron felt his face and head feel more heavy and swollen than they already had.

Eva had --

Theron swallowed, hard.   “Your handiwork,” he stated.

“Yes.”  She confirmed.

 “Nothing left, huh?”  He could see the still sentients forms, still lying exactly how and where they fell.  It was if some great plague had swept through, leaving nothing untouched, nothing sacred in its wake.  He returned his gaze to her, the gimlet eyes burning back at him. 

A thought he’d previously had about her resurfaced.  Yes, it was sometimes easy to forget that something so small and bright could cast such a long, dark shadow.  He’d thought that about her when he’d partially overheard the torture of a would-be assassin.  He thought this again as he realized she’d ---

“Apprehension and return to their governments wasn’t an option.”  Theron said that aloud for his own benefit as much as hers.

“Treason is a capital crime in both the Republic and the Empire, if I remember correctly.”

Yes, yes, it was.

But she hadn’t done it for any government at all. 

She’d done it for him.  For Theron.

Eva managed to find a way to get him right in the heart, no torture or weaponry necessary.  Theron somehow managed to feel wonderful about that and be absolutely horrified by it. 

He was so messed up.

Eva cleared her throat over the roar of the engine as Bowie shifted gears.  “I got a med tracker on you. Very basic.  Just making sure you won’t die in the next few hours.”

Theron had figured as much, the sudden cool feeling at his neck indicative of such a maneuver.  Strangely, he did not find it offensive.  But he was sure to insist, “I need to finish this.  We need to stop Marr and Satele from blowing each other away.   And we need to stop the Revanites.  You might have killed a legion, but there are more.”  Theron’s eyes flickered over the memory of the dead and the annihilation.  No, there were assuredly more. 

He brought his eyes back to her, a brief cursory scan.  “You ... should probably get out of that.”  Whether she was aware of it or not, the Voidhound outfit was splattered in gore.  Theron looked down at himself, at that thought; he had grabbed her when he thought it was the end.  Yeah, he needed a change too.

Eva gave him a slightly dirty grin before she took a good look down at herself and realized he was right.  Eva hummed to herself and then activated her wrist comm.  “Lana, where are you?”

“Still in the Rishii village.  I have doubts about the security of the safehouse in town.”

“You got the tech to run whatever the hell we’re doing next?” Eva asked.  She covered the comm for a moment.  “They stayed at a bed and breakfast in a hut,” she explained to Theron.

“Affirmative.  Jakarro dismantled a computer in his ship and brought it over to me.  He said the space harpy would know how to put it back.”

Eva froze for a moment before staring down at her wrist.  “Acknowledged.”  She cut the comm and looked at Theron, utterly bemused.   

The vehicle began to slow down, and Theron saw the edge of the hull of Virtue’s Thief come into view.  “We’ll fly down to the village.  It’s far enough, and it’ll get the Thief into position for whatever is next.” Eva stood up as the speeder began to slow down.

Theron stared at her for a second. “I’m not going to your medbay.”

“What, you want to fly with my gangplank down so you can leap out at first chance?”

“Is that tracker giving you an alert?”

Eva hesitated before shaking her head.  She’d considered lying to him, evidently, but hadn’t. He appreciated that.  She quickly moved on.  “Seriously, don’t jump, even if the tracker isn’t going off.”

Theron gave a half-hearted scoff. “I need to get to work.  Just… get me to whatever makeshift ops center we have.” 

Eva looked at him, annoyed.

“Galaxy’s at stake here. I don’t matter.” 

Eva turned away, so Theron didn’t see her reaction to those words.  She was out of the vehicle before it completely stopped moving, making tracks up the gangplank, assumedly to get cleaned up. 

Theron hauled himself over the tailgate and staggered up the gangplank, perching himself at the top, waiting for his ride to start moving.

Bowdaar paused as he passed.  He raised his hand as if he was about to thump him on the head, but he reconsidered it.  “You’re too beat up, even with that hard head of yours.”

Theron gave Bowie a slight smile before the Wookiee went inside.  The ship started take off procedures.  Theron looped his arms around the railing and gripped it. 

Theron closed his eyes and started the most basic meditation exercises he knew.  Eva and Bowdaar were right.  He was stubborn.  He was hurt.  He was in pain.  But he just had to get through this.  He just had to keep going long enough to make sure this wasn’t all for nothing. 

Emotion, yet peace.

Ignorance, yet knowledge.

Passion, yet serenity…..

**

“Attacking from the air is pointless.  The anti-air defenses are much too thick.”  Eva heard Theron speak as she entered the hut that had become a make-shift war room. 

Jakarro gave him an affectionate but still gentle headthump.  “The torture has rattled your brain! The mighty Jakarro is not afraid of a few cannons!” 

“Well, I’m afraid of them. Does that count?  What are our other options?” demanded D4.

Theron scanned the data on the holo screen before him, the blue light illuminating the texture of some of his scrapes and bruises.  Eva knew he hurt.  “I think a surface attack is our only real shot at taking the jammer down.”

“Leave that to me,” Eva said, and she was rewarded by Theron’s eyes as he looked to her.  She’d transformed again, not back to the pirate queen, but to the slim silhouette of the smuggler, wearing her favorite brown jacket, hair pulled back, Dermaplast firmly in place.

This was Eva, as she was.  It’d been awhile, and the flicker in Theron’s eyes signaled his recognition.

Lana seemed to take no notice of the change. “Perfect.  I trust the Thief is ready for the drop?” 

“I also got an idea about long-distance comms.”  Eva gestured at the hastily made mainframe courtesy of The Warthog.  “Right now, we’re working on an intranet of personal comms linked through my ship.  Once we go too far afield – like out to that jammer – we won’t have anything since we can’t use the Imp or Pub frequencies.  If I recalibrate the intranet to use Port Nowhere channels, that won’t happen.  They aren’t jamming those.”

“Do it.”  Theron stepped back from the make-shift mainframe and gestured for her to get to work. Eva moved quickly to stand next to Theron, and she began her work in resetting the frequencies. 

Jakarro pointedly gave Lana’s arm a tug.  “Logistics need to happen, Sith.  Let those two gremlins talk of sabotage.” 

Theron’s tongue briefly came out to test his lip, and he winced as he watched Jakarro and Lana depart. “Polite Wookiee.”

“Most dangerous Wookiee.  We’ve had words,” Eva corrected.  She sidled up closer to him.  “Nobody is happy with what she did –”

“It is what it is.  What matters now is that you’ve got to move fast.” Theron turned his intense gaze to her.  “The fleets are going to be dropping out of hyperspace any second now.  The longer we take – ” 

Theron stopped short as a spike of pain cut through his left side.  Uncontrollably, his right hand went to clutch just under his left rib cage and his face contorted.  Eva was quick to stop what she was doing and reach for him. Theron gave her a warning snarl, empty of all actual threat.  He finished his briefing.  “The longer we take, the more we lose.”

“You should be in a kolto tank instead of planning missions,” Eva hissed at him, her hands batting his away to pull at his shirt, get a look at the injury.  Theron twisted away from her, but when that caused another quiet yowl of pain, he gave in, reluctantly.  As Eva tugged the shirt out of his trousers, she was greeted by purpling bruises.  “Cracked ribs, I’d bet.  Bruised lung would be a pretty good guess too.”

Theron grit his teeth.  “Nothing life threatening.  Painful, but not impossible to work through.  I need to think straight, and kolto makes me feel like my blood is carbonated – I can’t think.” His breath hitched as he looked at the ceiling, Eva inspecting the rest of him.  

“I don’t like the look of the right side.  Bruising is worse.”

“Doesn’t hurt as much.”

“That’s why I don’t like it,” Eva replied.  “And I know I can’t get you to do a damn thing.  As long as that med sensor doesn’t go off, you technically aren’t in any fatal danger.”

Theron just had enough energy and control to smirk at her.  “Where’d you find one of those non-alarmist medical alarms?”

“Akaavi made it for her stupid, stubborn captain,” Eva replied as she carefully put Theron’s clothing back to rights, right down to the tuck of his shirt.  Her hands were light and deliberate.  “I want to have an argument with you, but I know you only have enough in you for a few tasks, so I’m going to let you do those tasks.  Once you’re sufficiently recovered, I’ll ream you out.”

Theron gave a slow nod.  “I’ll stand by for post mission reaming.”  Eva gave him an exasperated look and then turned back to the computer.  He moved on in the conversation. “I need to finish slicing the last of the Nova Blade files.  They have data on every ship with Revanite infiltrators aboard.  As soon as the jamming clears, we’ll have to broadcast everything we’ve got to convince the fleets to cease fire and lock up the Revanites in their crews.”

Eva nodded, eyes watching the programming of the computer process.  With a final flourish, they were live on Port Nowhere’s frequencies. “I think that’s it.”

Daring a glance at the door, Theron stepped closer to Eva, head bowed.  “Watch your back.  I’m starting to think my little visit to the Revanites might have been her idea.”

Eva delicately tilted her head toward him, so that the assumption would be ‘romantic interlude’ rather than ‘conspiracy’ if anyone walked in.  “You think she’s working for the Revanites?” came the breathy reply.

“No,” he answered quickly.  “But I don’t think she’s putting all of her cards on the table either.  Stay alert.”

“Can’t say I fell for that ‘friendly Sith’ act in the first place.” Eva broke his gaze to check the door herself.

Theron leaned forward slightly, breath hot in her ear.  “I didn’t think I had either.  Be.  Careful,” he emphasized.

There was a moment before the realization struck Eva like a slap.

Theron hadn’t made a mistake. He hadn’t made a mistake that would have got him caught.  Lana –

A squeeze on her arm made her snap to attention beside him.  Eva had felt her temperature spike up as her temper threatened to burst through.  A silent shaking of the head.  A quiet conversation with those olive-gold eyes.  For a second, Eva could swear she was back on Pub Fleet, the first time she saw Theron Shan.  Oh, how different things were and yet, they were the same: him silently telling her to hold back, to wait, and then they’d fix this.

Together.

“Go,” Theron quietly ordered her. “Go save the galaxy.  It’s what I recruited you to do.”

Eva felt something well up inside her as she looked up at Theron.  “You’re saving the galaxy, too.”

“And I need you to do things I can’t.”  Another squeeze to her bicep, and Theron let her go.  He stepped slightly to the side to let her pass. 

Eva knew there was no other path but forward and out of this hut, out and away from him.  Eva drew up everything she had and took the first steps.  She deliberately let her hands brush past his, then she went for it: she grasped his hand as he had hers back on Manaan. 

Theron’s labored breathing caught as he realized what Eva was doing.  Their fingers intertwined.  She gently squeezed his hand at first, not knowing what the Revanites had done to him.  He returned the squeeze more firmly, stronger than she thought he would. 

Eva took what she needed, and then she let go of him.  She walked away.

Chapter Text

“Oh, God, he’s dead.”

In the cargo bay, Eva turned her head to stare at Guss, cigarette still clenched between her teeth, lighter still lit.  “Huh?”

She capped the lighter, but Guss went in for the hug before Eva could stop him.

Eva maneuvered the cig in her mouth, hands-free, just enough so Guss wouldn’t light himself on fire.  “What is wrong with you?” she asked.

Guss disengaged from the hug almost immediately.  “You’re – I thought that meant – ”

Eva shook her head.  “He’s alive.  Beat to hell, but he’s alive.”  Eva exhaled some smoke through her nose as turned back to the supplies she was rooting through. “He should be in medbay—”

“Cap, that’s a little funny coming from you.”  Eva turned again to see Corso leaning in the doorway. “You keep right on rolling til something knocks you flat.”

“Yeah, well.”  Eva shrugged and tried once again to resume her task.  “He’s got one of those gadgets Akaavi made for me, so he isn’t going to drop dead on us right away.”

Corso came into the cargo bay and started rifling through boxes.  “Saw your gloves when you came in – you had a close one down there too.”

“Nothing like being tortured as you’re trying to save the galaxy, though; I just had a temperamental computer to deal with.” 

Guss, who wasn’t taking Corso’s silent hint, plopped himself on a box.  “So who’s going with you to the big signal jammer?”

Eva briefly tapped off the ash from the end of her cigarette into an ashtray she’d placed on the worktable.  “I’m thinking nobody.  Stealth op.  Just get to the top as fast as I can while not getting blown away.” 

“Oh, I don’t like that at all, Eva,” Corso looked up from the crate he’d opened.  All-weather socks, but no gloves.  “You barely slept last night.”

Eva gave him a peeved look as she put her cigarette back in her mouth and reached up for another unlabeled box.  Next person who pissed her off was going to get this place organized. 

Corso was a prime candidate, if he kept pushing.

“Don’t give me that – I heard you crawling out of here before dawn, then coming back in to grab Bowdaar for another round with those crazy cultists.”  Corso put the crate to the side and then reached for another one. “Never seen him happier, sending them wanna-be martyrs to their reward.” 

“And what were you doing up?  Still hadn’t gone to bed yet?”  Eva answered back.  “How much sleep you get today, Corso?” 

Now it was his turn to give her an annoyed look.  Guss snorted and laughed at their bickering.  He swung his legs as he sat on his perch. “Seriously, though, you’re doing the signal jammer thing by yourself?” 

“Yeah.”  Eva sent up a puff of smoke with her reply. 

“Nervous?”

“Yeah.  But it’s gotta be done, and I don’t want to be worrying about anyone else.  Not anymore.”  She shook her head at the next box and moved on to search through something else. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Corso tilted his head toward her.  “This place just seemed to be a magnet for trouble….”

Eva let out a ‘heh.’ “You’re thinking what I’m thinking, aren’t you.”

Guss lurched back into the conversation.  “Probably not.”

Corso sighed.  “You don’t think it’s funny that we had no fewer than three ‘old friends’ traipse through here?”

Eva raised a hand to wave him off, slightly.  “Darmas was baked into Rishi before this op started.  Just nobody told us, on purpose.  But Beryl and Gronn showing up like they did – yeah.  And now they’re dead because they knew me.” Eva checked how much of her cigarette she had left and decided not to snub it out in the ashtray.

“Gronn ain’t dead.  We wouldn’t be that lucky.”  Corso’s reply was quick and harsh, and it caused her to spin on her heel, eyes wild.  The man cursed, quietly.  “Sorry, Eva.  Not right to speak of the dead that way.  But he did screw us over on Ilum.”

“I’m not relitigating this with you, Corso.”  Eva turned her back on him in order to continue her quest for gloves.  Stars, what a wreck the cargo bay had become.  Couldn’t find anything.

“On the one hand, not meeting us there and then ending up having to take out the bald guy by ourselves – bad.  On the other, lots of profits and cookie points with the Republic.”  Guss mimed the scales balancing.  “Also, you were campaigning to be her rebound at the time.”

“I was not!”  Corso snapped.

“You were, too,”  Eva and Guss said in response, both weary of that argument.  Eva continued on.  “Gronn came through for us on Makeb.  And he did here too.”  She paused, considering Corso’s words.  “But minus not showing up for the Ash Angel’s departure, there’s no firm evidence he’s dead.  No body, no beskar salvage, which would get the scavengers going crazy.”  Eva grimaced as she considered the possibility --- no, no more.  She had a job to do.  “But Beryl – I know she’s dead because of me.  Because someone knew I’d come looking for her.” 

Corso softened at that.  “Beryl had a rough life, through and through.  You were one of the good ones who didn’t make her life harder –”

“Until it was taken from her.”  Eva let the smoke come out of her nostrils in two long trails.  Then she let out a short, barking laugh.  “I haven’t had time to say goodbye to them properly – just have had to keep the con running, then sort out the new pecking order here on Rishi.”  Another drag of the cigarette went in.  “I haven’t had time to think.  Just – gotta save the galaxy.”

Corso ran his hand over his hair, his eyes scanning the cargo bay as he puzzled over the missing gloves.  “Cap, you’ve said in the past that the dead are dead; we’re working for the living.  That applies here – can’t do anything for Beryl or Gronn now.  Just have to save everyone else – and that means taking Akaavi with you – she’s going stir crazy.”

Eva exhaled her smoke, a smile threatening but never quite making it to her face.  “I’m going for speed and stealth, not maximum casualties.”

Guss thumped his heels against the box he was sitting on.  “You want alone time.  Cuz of her.”

Yeah, she needed to reset after being the Voidhound.  The whole façade had started to crumble the second she saw him, and she could only think of --   “That too,” Eva admitted. 

There were other things, but Guss and Corso didn’t need to know that.

….wait a second.  Eva bent over and tilted her head sideways until she could read the crate Guss was sitting on.  “Aha!” 

Corso quickly caught on, and the pair of them unceremoniously flung the crate open, catapulting Guss right off.  “Found them!”

**

“Don’t know if you can read me but I’ve arrived.”  Eva’s voice was marred by a bit of static, but Theron could still read her clearly.   Virtue’s Thief had dropped her in the jungle not far from the jammer, assuming there was a surrounding compound.  There was. 

“We read you.”  Theron stared at the screen.  Stars, it was a mess, not least because Jakarro had probably never cleaned it.  The available channels on Port Nowhere’s frequencies were highly limited, and it appeared it wasn’t picking up all the telemetry.  “Who’s with you?  Trying to track them.”

“Ahhh….  No one.  It’s going to be dark enough soon, and I figured I’d chance a stealth run,” she admitted.  He heard the scrape of leather as she adjusted a few holsters and then the unmistakable whine of a stealth generator booting up.

Theron checked the chrono.  It had taken time for her to get out to the signal jammer, even on the Thief.  He’d been rescued in the afternoon, briefed her… yeah, it was already nightfall on Rishi and its 20-hour days…  That was going to be two days he hadn’t slept, unless Eva managed to find a short cut. 

“You sure you want to do that?” he asked.

“She who travels fastest, travels alone, or something like that.  Besides, less likely to be caught if it’s just me.  Whoa.”

A distant rumble managed to audible through her comm.  “What was that?” Lana asked.

“Look outside.  Fireworks.”

Theron gave Jakarro a look. and the Wookiee hastily exited the hut.   “The fleets have arrived,” D4 reported.  “They’ve engaged.”

Theron cursed softly.  “All right.  You need to get going or there will be nothing to be saved.  What do you have in terms of a visual?”

“The jammer is in sight.  It’s Rakata Prime all over again – it’s on top of a structure.”  Theron heard a brush of fabric and the whirr of calibrating macrobinoculars.  “It’s a bizarre pile of technology, not a temple.  I don’t know how stable it is.”

“Elegance isn’t exactly a priority here. I’ll do what I can to guide you through, but that signal jammer might cause some hiccups, if we have some of your people pass through and crowd the line.”

“Acknowledged.”

“One more thing.”  Theron had considered this since the time she’d departed, and now it was as good of a time as any to spring it on her.  “You’re going to make contact with the first fleet that picks up – you send out the hail.  If it’s me or Lana, a Revanite onboard might decide to get creative.  They’ll use our ‘wanted’ status against us.  You have a better chance of getting through to the Grand Master or Marr as a smuggler captain.”

“Isn’t that a comment on the state of affairs.”  Eva checked a laugh.

“We have to get through in order to expose the conspiracy.  You know that the Revanites wanted wipe both of our fleets out.”   Theron  pressed his lips together as he contemplated how to ---

“They obviously planned to do something once both fleets were, so I’m assuming that is the next problem, right?”

“You always were clever.  Yes.”  Well, that took the pressure off.  He was relieved, at least on that count.

 “You want me to keep the line open?” Eva asked.  Theron could already hear her moving through the underbrush. 

Theron considered the offer.  “No.  Don’t want the risk of any feedback in case you get to close to their comms.”

“Alright then.  I’ll keep you posted.”

Eva cut her comm.  Another twinge shot through him, and Theron grit his teeth.  He accidentally turned off his translator for a second, but he switched it back on.

It was  going to be a long night.

**

Between the now-destroyed encampments and the fleet, the Revanites hadn’t left many people on the ground to defend the signal jammer.  Still, there were enough that Eva decided to strategically assassinate officers of a certain rank; if there were no leaders, it was more likely these enlisted would disappear into the greater galaxy rather than try to continue the cause.   Disorganization and demoralization could be induced here. 

It wasn’t the first time during this venture that Eva was grateful for Akaavi’s instruction in irregular warfare. She hadn’t physically brought her with her, but the spirit was certainly there.

Eva managed to wedge herself in behind a set of decorative planters and activated her stealth belt as she waited for a patrol to pass.  She tried to take the time to try to reorder her increasingly frayed thoughts.

Yes, it had been the right call to go alone. 

Because of signal quality and the concern of too much data attracting attention, Eva was mostly running silent.  She couldn’t comm Virtue’s Thief.  She was trying not to call Theron; he was still working on the decryptions, and he didn’t need to hold her hand for her to get this done. 

All in all, it was a lonely birthday.  At least, the first few minutes of it was, if she’d done the math right; Rishi’s short solar rotation and its different calendar system made her wonder what day it actually was on Coruscant…but as best as she could figure, she’d just turned 25, Coruscant time. 

Alone, chilled, hiding in a bunch of plants, avoiding deranged cult members, while trying to save the galaxy.  Oh, and fighting withdrawal sickness. 

Everything had started getting foggy after the adrenaline had started run thin after Theron was sitting next to her in the speeder.   Her mood had bottomed out after she’d left him at the makeshift ops center.  ….she hadn’t made a great choice the night before.  It wasn’t as massive as it could have been, but the hit was definitely disruptive to the taper she’d been working on… and now here she was, stone-cold sober, literally.  Eva shivered.  At least tonight, she wasn’t sopping wet. 

The odd wave of nausea crept up on her.  Not enough sleep probably wasn’t helping either.  What Corso had said about old friends – yeah.  That was weighing in on her too.  She ran her tongue over dry lips, and a dull throb bounced between her eardrum and the inside of her nose. 

There was a half-hearted, weak urge to cry, but she couldn’t muster the effort.  This whole month was a constant volley between burn out and death by rush, adrenaline or otherwise.

Eva noted that the patrol was well out of earshot now, and she swiftly moved toward the security gate.  Her omnitool, carefully attached beneath the main panel and barely noticeable to the eye, had been silently signaling it had done its job.  She was in the bottom floor of the jammer tower. 

“Happy birthday to me,” she quietly warbled as she reactivated her stealth belt and disappeared into the darkness of the stairwell.

**

“Theron, do you copy?”  Her low voice brought him out of his decryption work immediately.  Theron felt his eyelids flutter in a series of blinks as his concentration was broken.  He was almost done. 

Oddly, Eva interrupting him wasn’t bothersome.

“I copy.  What’s your status?”  Theron experimentally rolled his neck as he switched programs to watch her progress.  He was stiff all over, and he’d been slightly bent over the mainframe for – he shifted his gaze toward the chrono in the lower right-hand side.  About two hours? Maybe?  Lana had done the best she could to help, but her skills were limited in this area.  He’d sent her and Jakarro out and away from him… or more accurately, his piss-poor mood had.   He assumed they were somewhere nearby, but didn’t think too much about it.

“I’m about to enter the security checkpoint by the elevator that will probably take me right up to the jammer.  It’s blocked by a force field…. Any suggestions on how to bring it down?”

Theron silently stared at the screen, then input a few commands.  “Console in the security checkpoint controls that.  Looks like it needs … huh.  This is old.  It needs a turn key – a literal key object – to drop the force field.  Hope you aren’t opposed to a little combat in your stealth run.”

“Gotta get it from them somehow, and I don’t think I can convince them I’m collecting donations for Jawas Without Borders.”  Eva’s breath hitched for a second after the last word, then there was a rapid shift of fabric, then a muffled grunt, and a crackle of static.

Then nothing.

“Eva?”

“—py.  Pat – by.  I’ll use --- .”

The signal grew progressively weaker.  Theron stared at the telemetry and the map.  Her dot blinked in and out before disappearing.  The data stopped streaming in... and then restarted.

Theron knew this was coming.  There were limits to operating around a jammer that large; even if it was trained on a given set of frequencies, it was still powerful enough to disrupt everything in the general area.  Well, at least he could see she was still alive.  Once in awhile. 

He watched the erratic lights on the screen for a minute or two more.  Then he switched back over to his decryption.  Eva would do what she had to do.  She hadn’t failed him yet.

Theron wasn’t going to fail her by not being done with the decryption in time to transmit. 

His focus was short-lived.   “Theron?” Eva’s voice came over the line, and he felt relief, instantaneously.

“I’m here.” 

“Did you lose me just now?”

“Yeah.  Did you get the force field down?” He swapped screens again to see her moving back to where they’d last spoken clearly. 

“I did.  I realized I was talking to myself about half-way through the security team.  I’m going up to the jammer itself.”

“Ok then.”  These were simple words that belied the weight of the situation.  This was it. 

This was the last move in this holochess game they could make against Revan and his followers, this match of wits that had started over a library on Korriban.  It had been Theron, then Lana, each working alone, then together.  Then Eva had entered play and transformed the board more than once.  Jakarro had played his part as well, getting into places where neither spy could.  This had been a game that had been years in the making, its active phase only coming to fruition these last seven months.

This was it.  This was going to be the grand reveal of the intergalactic Revanite plot. 

Then the real war would start. 

“There’s some artillery up there too – see if I can’t ruin someone’s night.”  Eva’s voice echoed slightly off the metal in the walls.  “So…uh.  I guess I’ll see you on the other side.”

“I’ll be here waiting when you get that jammer down.”  Theron pursed his lips.  She was going to move out of range – say something.  “Eva?”

“Yeah?”  The voice was initially quiet, but then she moved back to where the connection between them was stronger…

Theron closed his eyes, and the right side of his mouth hitched up slightly.  “Don’t forget your card game.  Dealer can’t start without you.”

The words hung in the air for a few moments, and Theron waited for them to make impact. “You’re right.  Can’t be late to that.  Eva out.”  He could hear the smile in her voice, and then, just before the transmission finally cut out, he heard a slightly distant, celebratory “yeah, baby.”

Theron grinned so hard his face hurt.  That wasn’t particularly difficult to achieve given his current state, but her answer still made him feel pretty damn fantastic.

**

Eva crept out of the elevator and took in the environment around her.  No personnel on this level.  Little wonder; the drone of electronics was so loud and constant it made her ears sensitive.  She was already nauseous, so she could not tell if this was making it any worse. 

The signal jammer – a great overgrown satellite – was obvious.  Creep over, slice in, let Theron do his job.  She consulted her chrono.  Stars, Rishi and its short nights – it would be dawn soon. Eva kept her blaster drawn as she crossed the catwalk to the jammer.  No sign of life anywhere.

Eva drew close to the main computer and deactivated her stealth belt.  She watched as her hand flickered back into sight and then she went to work with the help of her omnitool.  No mistakes.  No time to make any mistakes, Eva amended as she gazed up at the light show over her head.  She’d redirected the AA canons to the Revanites, but they were still punching above their weight, since the Pubs and Imps couldn’t decide whether to fight them or each other.

As she watched debris sparkle as it burned on its way down through the atmosphere, Eva spared a thought for the poor people living underneath this mess.  The people of Rishi had thrown their lot in with her.  She had to deliver. 

One last sequence – and then the drone stopped. 

“You did it!”  Theron’s voice came over the comm.  “I’m sending out the files now. You’re on.”

“Captain Corolastor to Fleet.  Captain Corolastor to fleet, come in.  Do you read me?”

Eva left the comms open as she stared up toward the night sky.  Dawn was coming.  It needed to hurry up and get here.  “Pick up.  Come on,” she impatiently implored. 

Finally, a young man activated the holo viewer and patched her into the main comm spike of a ship.  “Flagship Dauntless here. Patching you through to the command deck.”

The Pubs had picked up first.  “Aye aye.”

The screen filled with the image of a woman facing away from the holo screen.  Eva recalled a now distant memory of Makeb, of a woman seen through several layers of interference as Risha played her part – pretended at being the Voidhound.  No VH here now.  EC was here, just a starship captain and a common, credit-a-dozen smug. 

Grand Master Shan turned around.  “This is Satele Shan.  Captain Corolastor, do we have you to thank for shutting down that jammer?”  She appeared at ease, unaware of the danger she was in, fully.

“That, and a whole lot more,” came Theron’s voice through the commlink.

Shan’s eyes widened as she recognized the voice.  “Please activate all holo screens.” 

As ordered, Theron’s image ported in, as if to stand beside his mother.  No doubt, Grand Master Shan saw the inverse:  Eva and Theron standing together.  Satele’s eyes danced sided to side, mind racing to piece together why her renegade son was here with a nobody.  Eva noted that the static and the quality of the holo obscured the worst of Theron’s facial bruising.  She also was careful to assemble together the facial features of the pair that were similar; she remembered wishing she’d looked closer at the Jedi in case Theron never came back.  Holostills were one thing; the features moving on another person were another. 

Captain Corolastor squared herself up to the images of the Shans.  “There are traitors hiding on every ship in  your fleet – the Imperial ships as well.  They are manipulating the battle from both sides.”

Grand Master Shan frowned, lips pulled down in a thin line, brow creasing. 

In the back of her mind, Eva had a sudden thought of Theron’s grumpy face.  She kept that – and would forever keep that – to herself. 

Theron spoke again, his image working over his console.  “I’m transmitting the traitors’ names now.  They’re part of a cult… the Order of Revan, led by the man himself”

Grand Master Shan’s reaction was a whisper.  “Revan?  But he was killed – ”

Theron cut her off.  “Apparently, it didn’t take.”

The elder Shan’s attention was draw away from the holo cam, likely toward a viewport.  She thumbed a switch on her command console.  “All ships cease fire.”  Then, to the comm officer on the spike: “Open a channel to –”

A deafening pop and blast went off over Eva’s head leaving her ears ringing.  Instinctively, her hands went up to her ears as she looked skyward.  A troop transport was power-diving in toward her.  “Incoming!”   Eva hit her stealth belt and as the generator came to life she pulled away from the holoviewer.

Eva frantically scanned the area for cover and, finding none, crouched down by the main console.  Kriff this.  This wasn’t how she was going to die.  No room behind the main console, it was a long karking drop to the ground from here ---

The troop transport released its payload, and it immediately deployed as it struck the tower floor dead center with a loud “BANG.” The entire structure gave a violent shudder.  Eva grabbed the side of the computer as she watched spindly legs unfold and the main body rise up.  “We got a walker up here.” Eva heard the building beneath her whine as its girders bent and began to buckle.  The flooring suddenly seemed more fragile. 

“Structural integrity has been compromised.  Captain, you need to get out of there,” came Theron’s professional voice through her earpiece. 

“Working on it,” Eva replied.  She pulled her wrist comm close to her mouth, never taking her eyes off the machine.  “Captain to Ship, I need a pick up about three minutes ago.” 

“Ship to Captain, it’s hot and heavy up there,” Corso came back to her over the line.

“I noticed.”  The walker was doing a visual search of the entire platform. It knew someone was up here, since the jammer had been disabled. 

Then the walker stopped its visual scan and its head locked down.  Eva felt a shiver run up her spine as it seemed to look right at her.  That was impossible though.  The stealth belt rendered her invisible to the eye.  Unless –

“That walker is getting ready to fire,” Theron warned her. 

“How?  Stealth belt is on.”

“Don’t know.  Move!”

His order came as she heard the mounted blasters heat up in anticipation of firing.

Well, shit.

Eva was on her feet and running as she heard the head unlock.  Loud pops of blaster fire peppered the floor behind her as the walker tried to get a bead on someone it theoretically couldn’t see.  She caught sight of an auxiliary control panel and made a dive for it just as she felt the flooring at her heel shatter away. 

Eva landed on her shoulder and rolled onto her belly.  She stayed flat to the floor as the walker began to pump the front of the console full of blaster fire, the bolts ricocheting in all direction.  The pulsing fire disrupted the air and making her ears pop and repop over and over again.  The firepower wasn’t enough to punch through the console right away, but Eva knew she had a limited amount of time before she had to run for it again.  “Corso, you coming or not?” she yelped into her comm unit. 

“I’m hurrying, Cap, but you might have noticed some traffic on the way over.” 

Eva made a non-committal grunt, then drew herself up on her feet, still in a low crouch as the walker continued to fire on the panel, parts of it starting to fly away.

“Missile locking on.”  Theron’s voice was calm but she could hear the frantic worry around the edges. 

Eva hauled herself up and started to make a run toward the elevator.  Hell, might as well see if it was still in operation.  Probably wasn’t the brightest idea she’d ever had, given the structural compromise of the building, but ---

She pivoted to take the turn around the corner and flew toward the elevator

Eva could hear the pace of beeping from the walker increase until it was nearly a long straight tone – and now she couldn’t get out of its way—

“Eva!”  Theron cried out for her.

As she turned around to face her fate, feet still carrying her toward the elevator door, a massive burst of light shot down from the sky.  It blew the walker to pieces, leaving nothing standing.  The scorch mark sizzled around the center of the floor. 

The missile never got to launch.

Eva took a few steps forward to crane her neck upward to see who her savior was.  It wasn’t the Thief, she knew that much. 

Her eyes encountered an Imperial star destroyer, Terminus-class, its master having dropped it low into the atmosphere in order to make that critical shot. 

Theron asked, hopeful in her ear, “Eva, I got telemetry for you – still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here, Theron.”  Eva broke into a dead run back to the holoviewer.  That ship was vulnerable, a sitting duck.  “You should probably hail the commander of the Imp destroyer parked over my head.”

“No need. I’ve been listening.”  Marr’s image appeared, and Eva could not contain her instinct to step back at his appearance.  He may well have saved her, but he still provoked a response akin to that of an unwanted venomous creature.  “As ruses go, this is quite creative.  A cult, a Sith legend, a conspiracy – even the walker was a nice touch.”

Eva glowered at Marr.  “I don’t have so much love for the Pub that I’d get blown up in order to convince you.  Round up the people from Theron’s list and see for yourself.”  Eva was careful not to refer to Theron as Agent Shan in front of the Imperials…at least not until he said so. 

Marr regarded the smuggler, as if attempting to place her in some great framework in his mind – at least that’s what it seemed like to her.  His body language and voice conveyed a great deal, but without a face, certain things could not be decoded.  “And if you’re correct?  What do you propose?” 

Eva shifted her gaze to Theron’s holo image, and he answered, coolly and professionally.  “A meeting.  Face to face.  On neutral ground.”  Then he gestured at Eva.  “Captain Corolastor is a representative of Voidfleet, which has recently developed a vested interest in the planet.”

Eva had to bite the inside of her mouth hard in order to prevent herself from beaming like a madwoman.  Well, if he couldn’t stop her from running the planet, he could at least use it to his advantage.  Adopting a typical polite but disinterested expression, Eva picked up where Theron left off.  “There’s a town on the surface:  Raider’s Cove.  We’ll send coordinates for the meeting spot.”  She lifted her chin at Theron’s image, and she saw his hands fly over the console. 

Eva had to leave that to Theron. It was far too tempting to send the coords for the Red Hulls warehouse or an even more disreputable location; there were a lot of those on Rishi.

Marr was silent as his head turned slightly to watch the coordinates roll in.  Eva could hear the sound on the holofeed be muted.  The mask obscured any movement on his face, so reading lips wasn’t even an option.  Eva shifted her eyes back to Theron, who she found looking intently through the holo at her.  She gave him a thin smile as they waited.  Wasn’t much they could do other than wait to see.

“Very well.  Three hours.”  The answer came suddenly, and the feed cut within seconds thereafter.

Eva watched the console in front of her to make sure he was really gone before exhaling. “Nice not to be shot at for once today.” 

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”  Satele Shan directed her words both at Theron and at Eva. 

Well, Theron had given her the part to play – a representative of Voidfleet.  Not the Voidhound.  “Lady, I have no idea what I’m doing.  I’m a … specialist in discreet cargo delivery.  Anything else is a massive misunderstanding.”

“We’ll explain once you’re planetside,” Theron interjected, quickly.  “Three hours, like Marr said.”

“I understand.  Grand Master Shan out.” 

The signal cut out.  “They’re coming,” Eva heard Lana said softly, the relief obvious.  She’d joined Theron at some point off-screen.

After the Grand Master’s image had flickered into nothing and the connection was terminated, it was Theron’s turn to let out a long breath.  “‘Lady’?  You just had to say that, didn’t you.”

Eva shrugged and let that stupid grin she’d been sitting on through.  “‘Recently developed a vested interest?’”

“‘Specialist in discreet cargo delivery?’”

“Hey, it sounded good when Jakarro used it.”

Theron’s stifled laugh was jagged and complicated by his injuries, but still audible.  “Come back to the safehouse, Captain.  We’ll meet you there.” 

Eva activated her wrist comm.  “Corso, come pick me up.  The elevator was busted anyway, and I don’t want to walk down all those stairs.”

“Cap, you have no idea how hard it’s been to watch all of these fireworks overhead and not strategically aim at some Imps.”

Eva rolled her eyes.  “Corso, if you think us playing nice with the Empire is at an end, you might wanna take any shore leave you had saved up.   I’ll talk once I’m boarded.”

Chapter Text

Day 18

Virtue’s Thief easily zipped across the sky as dawn began to chase the night over Rishi.  Eva had to admit that Rishi had given her and the crew more of an opportunity to see dawn than they ever had before.  Eva had plonked herself down against the wall in the cockpit, giving the crew the quick rundown as Corso and Bowie navigated back to the docks in Raider’s Cove.  “So we’re apparently doing breakfast with two of the most powerful Force Users in the galaxy.  And their fleets.  No biggie.”

Then she took a quick power nap, sprawled on the floor of her ship until Bowdaar had poked her with a careful claw.

After making a quick detour in town, Eva strolled into the safehouse, alone.  It had been decided to keep her as the face of Voidfleet – nobody else needed to be seen by the Grand Master or Darth Marr yet.  As she entered the main room, it was just the droids and Lana, fussing on how to arrange the place for an impromptu peace conference. 

At the sound of her footsteps, Lana didn’t look up. Before Eva could say anything, hostile or otherwise, Lana spoke, hasty.  “I tried to send him to his room for rest, but he’s not having it.  He’s still trying to work.” 

“On what?”  Eva asked, incredulous. 

“You’ll have to ask him – I’m trying to get this place into some semblance of order after leaving sudd—”

“T3, don’t let him pipe anything through you.”  Eva strode over to the mainframe and yanked the power cord out of the wall.

There was a beat of silence, then “LANA!” angrily erupted from upstairs. 

T3’s dome rotated.  “Theron Shan = pissed.”

“He’ll get over it.”  Eva walked back across the room toward the stairs. 

Lana finally detected that Eva was carrying additional cargo.  “Is that breakfast?”

“Not for you.”  And then she was scaling the steps two at a time.

Eva could be a petty bitch when the situation suited. 

Eva looked up and down the hall for a second, trying to remember which door was his.  Her foot caused the floor to creak loudly, and another outburst of temper followed.  “Beniko!  Go away!  You can plan whatever kriffing tea party you want downstairs, but I have to finish this after-action – which I have to fill out because of you.”

Oh, boy.  She was catching him with his professionalism off.  This was going to be interesting.  Not saying a word, Eva knocked on the door.  She heard the slam of a datapad down on a bedside table then a stiff, angry strut toward the door, an alien dialect barely under his breath, probably nothing good.  As the door swung open, Theron growled, “I told you on Jakarro’s ship, stay away.  You ---”  As he tried to glare furiously at Lana, he found himself staring at the wall opposite his room; the person on the other side of the door was several inches smaller.

“Room service!”  Eva chirped, holding up a carryout bag from the bacalhau place she and Risha had found on their first day there. 

Theron’s eyes dropped to stare at her, her presence taking more than a few seconds to register.  “Eva.  What --?”

“I’m here to service your room – and whatever else you’re up for,” she saucily replied.  The anger ran away from his face, but it was replaced by a completely nonplussed expression.

There was a split second where Eva thought he was going to slam the door on her, so taking advantage of her mobility compared to his, she ducked under his arm and squeezed past him into his room.   “Seriously, I brought breakfast.  I’m guessing you haven’t eaten since…” she trailed off as she realized Theron was still standing at the open door.   “Theron?”

He tiredly turned around.  Gods, everything over the last two days seemed to weigh him down and make every motion agonizing to watch.  “I have work to do.”

Eva scoffed.  “It can wait.  You haven’t eaten, haven’t slept – well, at least you cleaned up.  Sort of.”  He’d managed to change his clothes and give himself a wipe down with a rag or sponge, ridding himself of a few layers of grime.  She was willing to bet that a lengthy shower hadn’t been part of his clean-up.

Theron shook his head.  “Beniko created paperwork, since I ended up in enemy hands.  I’m trying to get that done before the Grand Master shows up so I can submit that.  Then we move on to the next thing.”

“And that is?”  Eva placed the bag of food on the oversized windowsill in his room.

“I’ll tell you later.  Downstairs with everyone else.  Doesn’t make sense to go through it twice.” He ran a hand over his hair, clearly not washed, and let it rest at the back of his neck.  His hairstyle was passable, if one didn’t see Theron on a regular basis. 

“We got an hour and half before we’re supposed to meet with everyone downstairs.  That’s plenty of time to finish that report – and eat.”  Eva gestured at the breakfast at the window sill.  “You can multi-task, right?”

Theron shrugged, his eyes straying back toward his datapad.  As he turned his head away from her, his implants caught the earliest pieces of the morning sun. 

“Theron, your implant – it’s broken.”  Eva couldn’t stop herself from moving toward him.  That must have hurt so much.  She’d seen men double-over if someone knocked on their tinsel. 

“It can wait to be fixed later.”  Theron was reaching out for her arms, not to draw her in but to keep her at bay. 

“We have time now.”  Eva patted at her jacket, hoping, hoping – aha.  She had remembered to take precautions last night;  she’d brought her backup slice kit with her, in case the ancient omnitool (older than her mother) did finally decide to pack it in.  The tools were fine and thin enough to do basic implant work; she’d seen it with a guy she -- .  “Theron, if you trust me, I can just have T3 look up –”

“I need to keep them on in order to work.”   Theron stepped back from her and  moved in a wide circle back toward the datapad.  He picked it back up.  “Thanks, but you need to –"  He motioned toward the door.

Eva was never the type who took kindly to being dismissed, and after all they’d been through – oh, he knew better.  She snapped,  “Oh, let someone take care of you for once, without an argument!”  She felt her temper rise up as she glared at that wonderful, frustrating man. 

Theron shook his head dismissively.  “The meeting – I need to be ready.  This doesn’t matter.”  He gestured at the implants – at himself.

“You matter,” Eva insisted. Then, in a softer tone: “To me.” 

That brought Theron up short.  As he visibly fought a war with his emotions, Eva pressed her advantage:  she grabbed his hand, gently tugging him toward the window.  

As she guided him to sit in the large window sill, Theron looked out the window.  He blinked. “It’s dawn.”

Eva started to tear into the takeout containers. “Yeah.  New day.”  She stopped as the words came out of her mouth.  They’d talked about this, so many months ago.  She looked down at Theron.

“Maybe today, it’ll all work out.”  Theron gazed up at her, face open and hopeful.

Silently, she nodded and pressed the food into his hand. 

**

“Theron, wake up.”  The voice was low and gentle, something out of dreams.

Theron had dreamed so many times.    On crowded, grimy transport ships and in the safehouse on Rishi, he dreamed in his tiny room.   More than once, he woke up alone, hot, tense. A drink of ice water sometimes helped; a cold shower was more effective, if he could get it.  Frustration rolled off him in waves when he didn’t have time to manage the problem and shove the fantasies behind a door. 

Privacy had been fleeting and rare, and he often chose meditation over any other coping mechanism.  Meditation kept other internal crises at bay.  Any time his meditation routine was off, any time his discipline slipped, however, her temptations and his other issues presented themselves in the most complicated and dreadful ways.

Encounters with her during his off-the-grid days were contradictory.  They were respites from loneliness and feeling like a deviant with unrequited feelings, because she was never shy about her interest in him.   But afterwards, he dealt with new additions to the wardrobe, new plots, and new dialogue in his dreams. 

After he’d seen her on Katalla, he felt loneliness upon waking, as if she should have been there with him when his dreaming ended.  That was doubly strange, as he rarely let people sleep over at his place, and he always slipped out before his partner woke up. 

Theron awoke with his head in Eva’s lap. 

He remembered that she had started to assess the damaged implant and had texted T3 to pull files.  After eating a real meal for the first time in days, his body had mutinied, and the exhaustion dropped down on him, unrelenting.  He remembered being helped toward bed but not landing. 

But the pain in his head was gone. 

A hand went up to his implants, brushing the fabric of her shirt.  She had fixed the wire, with T3’s help.  He experimentally clenched his teeth.  Mapping was back online.  He didn’t test the targeting one or the deep dive, but they felt like they sat correctly now.

Theron opened his eyes.  “Time?”

“The Pub shuttle just landed.  We got about fifteen minutes.”  The dark eyes focused on his implants.  “That feel right?”

He nodded.  Then, impulsively, he brought a hand up to her face.  “So does this.” 

Eva’s long, thin hand laid over his larger, darker one, holding him against the skin of her jaw and chin.  They didn’t have time for anything else.

They only lingered there a few minutes more before Eva helped Theron pull on his miraculously intact red jacket.  “It’s as resilient as you are,” she commented.  He gave her a small grin before he began his descent down the stairs.

**

The tension was palpable in the room as A7 rolled around the room, offering drinks to the attendees unsuccessfully.  Even Satele waved him off.  D4 attempted to make small talk, but that failed spectacularly.

Eva leaned into whisper, “Nobody’s been shot or choked yet, so…”   She gave a slight rise of her shoulders.

“All right then.  Off to a good start,” Theron murmured back.  Eva stepped back and away to blend in with the scenery.  She was just a smuggler, after all.

Eva read the room.  Satele and her guards were alert, but their curiosity was more palpable than the Imps.  On occasion, the Grand Master let her eyes linger on Theron.  Yeah, despite their best efforts, he still looked like hell.  The Imps just looked flat out uncomfortable…and the guards for Marr felt a little useless.  Dude was built like an isotope-5 tank, so little wonder. 

A sudden thought popped into Eva’s head. Note to self: tell Bowdaar to change his translator voice to ANYTHING but Darth Marr. 

… maybe not, she could probably use a laugh. 

Lana was interesting.  She wavered between relief and wanting to return to the fold –stand on Marr’s side of the room.  However, something weighed her down and kept her in the middle with Theron, despite his refusal to acknowledge here presence at all.  She kept darting glances at Theron…and back at Eva.  Eva kept her expression flat. 

Somebody had conflicting feelings about what she’d done.  Interesting. 

Jakarro and D4, much like Eva, had slunk into the shadows at the edges of the room.  He eventually came to stand next to her, towering over her.  Quietly, in Shyriiwook, he spoke.  “The mighty Jakarro has his ship ready for take-off.”

“Same.”  They both were criminals, and if the two leaders didn’t buy their story, they’d be just as screwed as Theron and Lana.  “Let’s see how this goes.  I got flash grenades.  Just keep an eye on the door.”  Jakarro grunted, and D4’s eyes flickered in acknowledgement. 

Theron had retrieved a datapad from the table and seemed to be waiting for either Marr or Satele to make the first move – set the mood for how this little détente was going to go. 

Marr took the initiative.  “The Revanite ships have all been scattered, captured, or destroyed.  Their accomplices about our vessels are in chains.”  He turned his head not at Theron or Lana, who stood between his contingent and that of Satele Shan, but at Eva.  “You’ve found a threat.”  Then he returned his attention to the center of the room.  Despite the mask and the heavy armor, Eva could feel his attention on Theron.  “And you’ve given us the means to root it out.  Separately.”  Then Marr seemed to narrow his focus and put all his intensity into a question directed at Lana. “What do we have to discuss?”  He sounded impatient and wanted to know why he was here, wasting his time.

To her credit, Lana didn’t cower before her old boss. “Revan is still alive, my lord.  And his plans don’t stop here.”

Theron stared hard at Marr, not thrown by the attempt at intimidation. “The Emperor is not dead.  Most of us already knew that.”  Eva could see Grand Master Shan shift her weight slightly, just within her peripheral vision, but she didn’t take her eyes off Theron or Marr.  “Revan thinks he can fix that.  But he’s wrong, isn’t he?” 

Eva knew fuck all about how Sith and Jedi managed not to die or whatever trick it was where the clothes remained and the body went poof.  Even she knew that Theron’s question was not really a question; he was trying to lure information out of Marr – challenge him.  Make him acknowledge the problem.

Frankly, Eva wasn’t exactly sure what “the problem” was.  It wasn’t like the Sith Emperor was part of her daily life in the first place; when that one Jedi killed him around two, three years ago, there had been a collective shrug around the underworld.  Life didn’t slow down for them.  It didn’t change for people like the crew of Virtue’s Thief.  So he’s not dead.  Big whoop.  Try again.

She and Risha had been hired to bust Revan out of jail.  He said things.  Weird things happened. 

But then Eva remembered…. Guss had heard things later…  Felt things….  And he didn’t know what Eva had done with the proprietary information about the rescue.  That had been a business matter for Eva, Akaavi, and Risha. 

Theron’s question seemed to have a visible effect on Marr.  The irritation went away, and now he seemed to take the spy more seriously.  He perceived “the problem” to be real. 

In that moment, Eva realized she really might have made a serious mistake when she sold the Jedi out to the highest bidder.

“No one person – not even Revan – can truly destroy the Emperor,” Marr answered Theron.

Even as she had one track of information in mind, Eva spoke another.  “Revan isn’t exactly alone in this. We’ve stopped a lot of his followers, but who knows how many more he’s got?  How many thousands?” 

Marr turned his head back to face her. “It doesn’t matter.  They will fail, and we will all suffer for it.”   The huge man squared himself to the rest of the room. 

Eva had heard about Marr, only recently got in his way directly…. And she didn’t know if it was one of those tricks or some kind of raw magnetism that he had naturally, but he managed to hold the entire room spellbound as he spoke.  Even she felt that.  “The Emperor’s current state is … nebulous.”  Marr searched for a better word.  “Incorporeal.  To strike at him, Revan will first have to return him to a physical form.”

Grand Master Shan spoke up, her expression grim.  “Which is exactly what the Emperor wants.”

Marr continued on.  “He will destroy Revan, then move on to the rest of us.  He will consume the life force of the most strong, the most wise, the most quick as they come to stand against him.  In time he will consume all life in the galaxy.”

Eva made a sour face.  “Maybe I’m a dumb smuggler here… but you knew this was his goal, and you still followed him?”

Marr fixed his heavy gaze upon her.  It was unnerving, given that Eva couldn’t actually see his face, but she could feel the power coming off him.  “I only learned of his true plans recently.”

“And yet he still has his devout partisans in the Empire, which why you got the internal problems you do?”

Marr didn’t answer, but his masked face stayed still as it continued to watch her.

Eva scoffed and looked down at the floor, shaking her head.  “Y’all are crazy.”

Marr replied, “I am no more interested in being fuel than you are.” 

The way Marr said it made Eva look up again.  He seemed … amused by her audacity.  Lana, on the other hand, looked like she was about to faint, while Theron was caught somewhere between being entertained and being horrified. 

Grand Master Shan had a downright admirable pazaak face, and she plowed onward.  “We have to stop this – intercept Revan before he can restore the Emperor’s form.”

Marr’s head weaved back and forth slightly.  “The Emperor’s hideaway is a secret, even to the Dark Council.”

The holoviewer buzzed to life as an image of a planet was pulled up.  Theron wore the slightly, self-satisfied smirk.  “The fourth moon of Yavin.  That’s where we’ll find Revan.”  In response to the silence from Marr and the slight arch of Grand Master Shan’s eyebrows, Theron simply explained, “He wanted me to join him there… never said I couldn’t bring a few friends.”

Lana smoothly picked up the briefing line.  “According to our data, he still has extensive forces at his disposal. We would stand a better chance of overcoming them together.”

To Eva’s slight surprise, Grand Master Shan had the first objection – but it was a reasonable one.  “No matter what evidence I present, I doubt the Supreme Chancellor will agree to any kind of alliance or truce.”

Marr seemed to agree, initially.  “Neither will the Dark Council.  But my ships and the soldiers aboard them are loyal to me.”

Eva totally believed that.  He commanded a room by simply standing there. 

The Grand Master considered the image of Yavin 4 for a moment. “I can convince my troops to maintain a truce.  They’ve seen Revan’s threat firsthand now.”

Silence.  Marr’s mask nodded up and down, and the Grand Master returned the small gesture.

“Then we meet on Yavin 4,”  Eva said aloud. 

“Agreed.”  With a jerk of his head, Marr’s soldiers fell in and obediently followed him out of the safehouse, swift and efficient. 

The Grand Master watched her counterpart go.  Then she turned to look at the mainframe computer.  Theron had slipped away and had apparently gone right back to work once the trip to Yavin 4 was settled.   Eva checked any external response, but the urge to roll her eyes and sigh at him remained.  “Theron.” Grand Master Shan said his name, as if to open a conversation.

But Theron cut her off quickly.  “We can talk on the way to Yavin.  I have some business to finish here.  Send down a recon team to clean up.”

Grand Master Shan absorbed that response with only a momentary hesitation, then turned her attention to Eva and Jakarro, who still stood at the edge of the proceedings.  “Thank you for your help.  All of you.  This can’t have been easy.”

The two smugglers stood there, silently gazing back at her.  What did they have to say?  It was a job.  They’d done it.  They were getting paid.  The only thing they could do was give her a nod, which she took with a certain graceful easiness, and then she departed with her soldiers. 

The Grand Master’s presence was not as obvious and intimidating as Darth Marr’s, but. Eva couldn’t help but notice the seeming void left behind. 

As the door shut behind the Pubs, silence filled the safehouse again, minus the hum of the machines and Theron’s swift keystrokes. Eva took a breath and then blew it back out through pursed lips.

Lana, relieved, let herself sit on the edge of the strategy table, her shoulders slumped and more at ease than they had ever been, at least as far Eva knew.  “The conspiracy is finally exposed.  We’ve been hiding from our allies for so long… it’s a relief to have everything in the open.”

“So we can talk about how you threw me to the wolves, now?”  Theron spun around so sharply that he startled Lana and Eva both.  Despite his injuries, it appeared his anger was more powerful than whatever pain he felt. 

Jakarro, however, let out a loud howl.  “So that’s why you stopped me!  To get Shan in there, on purpose!”  He stepped forward and shook a claw at Lana.

Eva didn’t believe in getting between a Wookiee and his quarry.

Lana drew herself up, her guard back up.  “I made a calculated, strategic decision.  And it worked, as we can all see now,” she rationalized coolly.

Theron crossed the room, his voice low yet brimming with animosity.  “And if you’d talked to me about it, I would have volunteered.  But you didn’t even give me the choice!”

Lana seemed to draw back into her voluminous Sith robes even further, if that was possible, and she held her hands behind her back.  Eva could see the moment she chose her final course; she wouldn’t apologize for this.  “We couldn’t risk the Revanites knowing that your capture was a ploy.  You had to be in the dark for the plan to work.”

It was the arrogance, the self-confidence, the absolute refusal to be critiqued that got Eva’s back up.  “Sith, I don’t care what your excuse is.  You lied to us!”  This was Eva Corolastor angry, not some avatar or alter ego.  “Do it again, and it will be the last time.” 

Lana was uncowed. “I will do whatever serves our goal best.  Defeating Revan must outweigh all other concerns.”  Her face tightened and she swiftly plowed onward.  “I think it’s time we moved on. Yavin is a long way from here.”

Jakarro, Theron, and Eva all simply stared at Lana.  The great unsaid “You first” hung in the air.

Lana held her head high as she walked out, with the hollow victory of achieving the acquisition of intel, but at great personal cost.

Eva quickly noted that it was just the four of them remaining.  She dared a look over at Theron… who was already looking at her.  “Theron, can you stay for a moment?”

Oblivious, D4 chimed in.  “I  can stay and chat for awhile.”

“No, you can’t!”  Being a good wingman was apparently a trait inherent in Wookiees.  “I need to prep my ship.  This droid is worthless!”

The pair’s bickering continued as they went out the door and part of the way up the main drag of Raider’s Cove. 

Eva turned to see Theron untense and drop his professional SIS façade.  He was still exhausted, and the meeting and confrontation with Lana had tapped him out. 

He caught her looking at him, likely with concern all over her face.  “Guess you’ll think twice the next time a spy asks you out for a quick drink.  Wouldn’t want to go through all this again.”  Theron stared at the room around him. “It was just a little raid on Korriban,” he mused.

Eva looked up at him. “I could definitely imagine more relaxing ways to spend my time.”

Theron balked momentarily, then his face broke out into a grin.  “Me, too.  At least there was good company for the ride.”

Eva decided to throw it out there.  “Yeah.  If you ever get tired of that government salary, give me a call,” she offered.  He was going to refuse, politely, or dodge it just as he had a few days ago, of course--

The grin didn’t dissipate as he said, “Will do.”

  He—what?  The grin only got larger when she felt her eyebrows rise up her forehead.

Taking the momentum, Theron put the datapad on the table, face down.  

**

So this was it.  Theron hoped it sounded as good as when he ran it through his head all those nights alone.  And this morning.   The day had already been worth it for the quiet moments upstairs and how he had just surprised her with his response ---

Hell, he’d surprised himself with how much he wanted that response to be absolutely true.  It wasn’t, but –

He hadn’t completely eliminated the option if things really went to hell.  Theron remembered to speak.  “Things usually do go better for me when I’m on my own.  Never been much of a team player.”  His throat bobbed.  “Might have mentioned this.”  She already knew this.  All of this. 

Eva nodded, her dark eyes on him.  She wanted to hear… and she deserved to hear, after all that.

Theron paused to just look at her, as she was, no guise or con being run.  Those warm feelings that he locked up regularly were finally sprung.  “Relying on someone else has been interesting,” he admitted.  Then he took the plunge.  “I’m beginning to think I should have started a long time ago.”  He paused. “Working with you has made all this madness worthwhile.”

Eva stepped into his personal space, and he felt the world start to upend as she grabbed the edges of his coat, to pull him near without grabbing at his torso.  “The feeling is mutual.”  She looked up at him, eyes large and not obscured by any trick of a card shark.  She wanted him to--

Theron ached.  He physically hurt, yet the resilient desire to express affection remained.  All he could muster was a stiff step forward and his arms, rising toward her waist.

Mercifully, Eva came the rest of the way to meet him.  Her hands reached up to rest on his shoulders, avoiding the temptation to hold him too tight, too close.  Theron felt weeks – months – of tension dissipate as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight to his body. The smile on her face as he did that made his heart skip a few beats.  Heavy-lidded, he saw her eyes drop to his mouth and her right hand came to trace along his jawline, ever so mindful of the split along his lips on his left side.  Theron leaned his cheek into her hand, luxuriating in every scrap of contact. He could feel her curves pressing against his body, distracting him from the exhaustion and pain. 

Finally, ever so gently, with such precision, Eva kissed Theron, making sure to avoid reopening his wounded lips.

Theron felt his internal defenses deactivating.  The op was over.  She was alive.  He was alive. The conspiracy was exposed.  He wasn’t right with the Republic officially, but he was right with someone in a highly influence place.  Technically, three people in highly influential places.

For a few minutes, he was free.  This was all his.

The tension escaped his back and shoulders, and he let himself relax into her.  He felt as if the kiss was the only thing keeping him on his feet.   She felt soft, clean, and warm – all the good things in this first kiss. He knew he felt rough and unshaven – he felt as if he just showed up and got lucky. 

The kiss trailed off gradually, and she pulled back a little to look up at him.  She –

She was checking in on him.  He felt a small pulse of guilt; he had put her through a lot to get here. 

But now that they were here, the least he could do was show some enthusiasm. 

At least, that was his logic.

In the rush that followed, he stepped in toward her, and his lips moved against hers.  Theirs lips locked together and came apart, her victories in trapping his lip between hers far more tender than his desperate conquests.

She was trying to be kind and careful.  He wasn’t. 

Capturing her lower lip between his own, Theron swept his tongue over it.  A hitch of her breath, and she eagerly submitted to him, opening her mouth slightly.  Theron took the opportunity and let himself have his first taste of her.  One of his hands snaked up to hold the back of her neck, trying to keep her mouth where he wanted it. The other splayed across her back. His body felt a wave of desire as she let him.  His heart was finally light, free of the guilt and anxiety that normally came with this.    

Eva had always been willing, and she had no shame.  Theron could feel her hand along the side of his face, and he felt the other reaching up into his hair, his scalp prickling at the pleasurable feeling.  Eva’s tongue brushed his, and he deepened the kiss, knowing he had an enthusiastic accomplice. 

Rallying fire shot up and down his body.  He wanted.  He felt himself moving forward, somehow taking her with him, and he heard her gasp as the backs of her thighs hit the strategy table.

Suddenly, he felt her break her lips away from his, and he felt them reappear at his throat, accompanied by a playful nip of her teeth.  That surprised him and brought him out of his heady passion with an excruciating gasp – his ribs.  He felt her tongue trace his throat in apology, and he silently forgave her as he let his hands travel down to her waist.  Her hands returned to the safe position of his shoulders, barely any pressure applied to them.  He rested his forehead on hers. In a raw voice, Eva spoke to him.  “We can’t.  You’re too injured.  You need a round in a kolto tank before – anything.” 

He knew she was right.  Ribs cracked, ribs broken, and a bruised lung would add up to pneumonia if he didn’t get it looked at.  That all considered --- “There are worse ways to die,” Theron weakly joked.   Despite the profound inconvenience of his current state, he could still say, with optimism, “I’m glad we’re on the same page.” 

Eva hummed her assent and confirmation of that statement then tilted her head up toward him again.  Theron took some small pride in the lips that had been well-kissed.  He loved the joy in her eyes even more.  He started to lean in – but she drew back.  “Only if you behave.  And they are waiting for us.”

“I would sigh overdramatically at you if I could,” he replied in a low voice.  Then, behaving himself, he kissed her again.  It certainly wasn’t chaste, but it wasn’t a step toward the utter madness that had threatened them a few moments before.  

As Theron continued to kiss her and let his hands run up and down her hips and waist, Eva’s comm unit went off.  She broke the kiss momentarily.  “Listening.”  She let go of Theron’s jacket long enough to hit what he assumed to be the ‘mute’ button on their end.

“Captain, is Theron with you?” asked Akaavi, a lilt in her voice the only giveaway she already knew the answer. 

Theron eventually had to end the next kiss, lest any more suspicion be cast upon them.  Eva blinked a few times as she answered, after marked delay, “In a sense. What’s up?”

“His med sensor is going off.  It thinks he tore his liver.  His next celebratory drink will be his last one.”

Eva and Theron stared at each other, both sets of eyebrows raised in surprise.   “That’s a new one for me,” Theron finally admitted, leaning in to mumble in Eva’s ear.  “And not something that your ship can fix.”

Eva reluctantly nodded, then said to Akaavi, “Ok, then.  I’ll get him on the next capital ship shuttle, then I’ll get back to the Thief.” 

“Our destination?” Akavi asked.

Theron gave up any illusion of fooling Akaavi, “We’re going to see what Yavin has in store for us.”

“Understood.”  Almost immediately, Akaavi killed the comm line. 

Theron would have laughed if Eva hadn’t delivered another kiss that made his knees weak.  Wow.

He finally had to come up for air.  “Let’s get out of here before they start to talk…and before I drop dead in here from organ failure.”

Eva drew close to his left side and willingly, voluntarily, and perhaps unnecessarily, Theron leaned on her as they walked out of the safehouse into the sunlight and toward the nearest shuttle to Satele Shan’s flagship. 

“Not a bad first hand.”

“No, not at all.”