Chapter Text
ONE I TERRIBLE THINGS HAPPEN WITH PIRATES AROUND
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OCHRAN SYSTEM
8 ABY
It began with terrible noise. Hours had passed since opening and a thumping ache sparked through Kitra's head, accompanied by the leering jeers of their regular clientele. Rhythmic stomping pulsated through the floor underneath her as she weaved her way around the throng of customers. Clanging echoed in the tight spaces – cups either being dropped or smashed together. The din was terrible tonight. More so than other recent evenings. But the noise was routine. Kitra had long learned to drown out the incessant jabbering that surrounded her, focused on delivering drinks to the rowdy crowd.
With their systems fuzzy from alcohol, eyes fixated on the night's potential bedmate and mouths occupied with shouting across tables, none paid any mind to the young girl sweeping across the floor. Allowing her to work without distraction. A sullen expression filled her face as she delivered another tray full, replacing them with the empty cups on the table. The patrons picked up their new drinks without batting an eye in her direction.
Fenra's Dive was a local hotspot on Ochran. Nestled in an alcove just off Ochnal Space Port, it attracted an amalgamation of the galaxy's most wretched scum. Bounty hunters, pirates, wayward brigands searching to stir up trouble. All were welcome. And Fenra himself merged into the crowd, camouflaging himself with such an astute sense of belonging that even Kitra couldn't recognise him in the horde.
Whilst he drowned himself in drink, his thirteen year old daughter spent long hours on her feet, serving their customers alongside the droid staff under her father's ownership. She had come to believe that her father saw her as one of them. An unwavering, unfeeling machine. Though if the droids made mistakes or malfunctioned, they weren't the ones to receive the consequences.
Missteps were detrimental in her father's eyes. He had scraped and bartered a reputable business, harping upon the fall of the Galactic Empire. Whilst the New Republic scrambled to rebuild a functioning and competent government, outer rim territories remained in chaos. Rife with bandits, pirates and bounty hunters alike, Fenra had capitalised upon the new population, marking his bar as a place of respite for the galaxy's most deviant.
Mistakes made him look disreputable. That's what he always said. Which left Kitra stepping on glass that cracked continuously under every careful step she traced. Mistakes brought calamity down upon her, left evident through marred and mottled skin. The first lesson she'd ever learned in her life; never talk back to Fenra Halon.
Placing the tray back onto the bar, she eyed the next one full of cups. A sordid mixture of ales and liquors that made her nose sting.
"Table seventeen." Sita, the barkeep – and the only other sentient employed in Fenra's – mumbled out as she continued serving the customers at the bar. The woman was as indifferent to her as the clientele were.
Kitra nodded, picking it up without a word. Curly, dark hair flipped around her shoulders as she turned, making her way to the aforementioned table. It was one of their larger booths near the back, spacious enough to seat at least twenty if you didn't mind your personal space being invaded. Most of its inhabitants were locked in deep conversation or making merry with each other; teasing jeers thrown across the table. The exact same picture as the rest of the tables she'd served that evening.
She only gulped slightly when she caught the figure of the Shistavanen sitting at the far edge of the table. Dark fur, leathery skin and intimidating red eyes that glowed from the shadows. The race's hound-like features made them an extra indomitable presence. Taking a steadying breath, she kept the tray balanced and moved towards the table, unable to tear her eyes away from Shistavanen.
Which meant she was blind to the stumbling figure crashing through the crowd towards her. The cups tumbled out off the tray before she could rebalance herself, liquor splashing right upon the boots of the Shistavanen.
Her throat tightened and shoulders hunched as the hulking figure leapt to his feet with a harsh growl. The luminous crimson eyes turned on her and her eyes found the floor, clutching her now empty tray with whitened knuckles. "Are you blind brat, or just stupid?"
"I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean it. I’ll get a droid to clean it up right away." Kitra shook her head, voice quivering as she hoped the commotion would remain small enough to go under her father's radar.
A flinch rippled through her when a hand clamped down upon her shoulder. When she expected to hear her father's chastising voice - raspy from too much alcohol and death sticks - it was a smooth tone and clipped accent that interrupted the tension instead. "Now, now, Brutus. Let's not terrify the poor girl."
Kitra's eyes trailed along the floor, finding the boots of the man who spoke. A brown duster swept around his legs, and she followed the coat up, finding his face. An amused smile danced across his lips as he looked between herself and the Shistavanen. Dark hair marked with silver was shaved close to his scalp, and the fine lines of age were beginning to set into his forehead. Yet his eyes remained alive with a youthful, mischievous glow.
Her head bowed when his eyes met hers and she bit her lip, expecting to be scolded. "I'm sorry sir," She mumbled, "I'll replace your drinks right away."
"No harm done. Accidents happen, don't they Brutus?" Eyes flickering up, she found the heavy sneer of the Shistavanen still upon her and shivered.
"Sure, captain." Brutus spat, giving a vexed huff as he threw himself back into his seat. "Just get me my drink, girl. And hurry up about it."
"See, no harm done. Was my fault really, I wasn't watching where I was going." The human male spoke again. Kitra craned her neck back up at him, watching him appraise her, the lines on his forehead deepening in consideration. "Though you're so tiny that I never actually saw you slipping through the crowd in the first place."
Feeling terribly exposed under his gaze, Kitra knelt down, hurriedly collecting the dropped glasses. "Still, I've dropped all your drinks, I should replace them." She spoke fast, ears trying to reach over the din of the crowd to listen for any approaching heavy footsteps. Attracting her father's ire was the worst of her worries. She needed to move swiftly to prevent that from happening.
"Take your time sweetheart, we can wait."
Once all of the wayward cups had been collected back on the tray - Kitra's boots splashing in the spilled liquor - she stood, sending a shaky smile to the human man. His reassurances hadn’t alleviated her paranoia, but she appreciated him trying. The hands clamping down on her shoulder sent a cold shiver down her spine. "Is my daughter causing you folks any trouble?"
The inhabitants that sat around the table paid no mind to the intruder, continuing with whatever riveting conversations they were having with each other. Her father's words were directed straight towards the human male, the one that Brutus called Captain . His gaze lifted over Kitra's head, landing on the all-encompassing shadow behind her, lips turning down. "Not at all. Just a little accident, nothing to concern yourself over."
The hands on her shoulder squeezed firmly, fingernails digging through the itchy material of her shirt. "Ah, but you see this is my place of business. So accidents are very much my concern. Wouldn't want the customers to think the staff are incompetent now would we?"
Kitra wanted nothing more than to disappear. To slip back into the crowd out of the heaviness placed upon her. But the weight of her father's murderous ire froze her in place as the two men talked over the top of her as though she weren't there.
"Ah, so you must be Fenra then. Nice to meet a businessman who values customer experience." The Captain said, lips twitching up into a smirk that was almost mocking, hands pulling the lapels of his duster back to rest of his hips.
"This is a reputable bar. Ensuring your satisfaction is of utmost importance." Her father responded.
"And that includes the owner getting drunk alongside them whilst his daughter runs around with their drinks?" When she thought the hold on her shoulders couldn't get any tighter, it did. Kitra did her best to hide the grimace that the bruising grip resulted in. With the way the Captain's gaze flickered down to her face, she didn't do a good enough job.
"Are you trying to insinuate something?" Her father's tone stayed even. But Kitra had grown up learning the language of her father's anger. Right now, he was viciously so.
"Not at all, Fenra. All I – and my men – want is a drink. And you're currently holding our waitress hostage after she so kindly offered to replace what she spilled. Whatever happened to good service." His last words were directed at his crew, who jeered alongside him. Completely oblivious to what was happening in front of them and merely unconsciously following their captain’s lead.
Kitra could tell her father had withered slightly. Could imagine the strained smile pulling at his gaunt features. The Captain's words had disarmed him somewhat, his fingers loosening on her shoulders. She released the breath that was held achingly tight inside her chest.
"Right." Her father ground out. "My apologies. Consider this round on the house. For the trouble."
“How generous of you.” The captain said with a tight-lipped smile.
The slap on the side of the arm was her cue. Swallowing, she ducked her head down, weaving her way back to the bar, breath falling heavily with each step away from the crushing tension her father's presence had waylaid upon the situation. A dreadful churning stirred in her gut. Part of her hoped that her father would get drunk enough tonight to forget her misgivings. That hope died before it could come to fruition; her father never forgot.
As she waited by the bar – Sita redoing the whole table's order with a vexed roll of her eyes – she chewed at her lip absently, nerves stinging with the sensation of eyes everywhere. The entire bar felt unsafe; as it always did with her father's constantly shifting moods.
Sita replaced the last drink. Heavy fingers gripped at the back of her neck. Kitra swallowed. She'd become so used to her father's heavy-hand and easy violence that she hardly even flinched anymore. When you expect it constantly, it never comes as a surprise.
Her throat caught when the warmth of his breath hit her ear. "You spill another drink in front of those pirates and you're dead, girl.” He hissed. “Remember what I always said? Terrible things happen with pirates around. I don't need any excuse for them to flippantly decide they want to plunder the place. Do you understand?" Kitra nodded. Any hesitation to answer him would only make things worse. "Good. Now get going before they get even more impatient."
The grip disappeared, and when she turned around, her father's figure had already slipped back into the crowd. Warmth gathered at the bottom of her eyes, but she blinked back any traitorous tears. She learned long ago to never cry. Crying only ever made things worse. Steeling herself, she picked up the tray, hyper-aware of her surroundings as she navigated back to the table.
Everyone was welcome at Fenra's Dive. It attracted all of the scum in the galaxy. But Fenra always remained vigilant whenever pirates frequented the establishment. Bounty hunters, mercenaries and even assassins could be expected to behave; they worked for others and outside of their job they sought no trouble unless provoked. But pirates were unpredictable. They served themselves and their whims could turn a merry night into an opportunistic plunder.
Appeasing them was always her father's way of ensuring his bar would never turn into a target, no matter how temptingly lucrative his business became.
Kitra stayed silent as she returned to the table. The crimson eyes of the Shistavanen still terrified her, and she could feel the heavy weight of the Captain's gaze on her as she passed their drinks around the table. As long as she kept her head down and remained unassuming, she could pretend that her hands weren't trembling. That the back of her neck didn't prickle like there was a fire at her back, ready to swallow her whole.
Before she could escape back into the sanctuary of the crowd, a soft grip on the sleeve of her shirt stopped her. Shoulder's hunching slightly, she anticipated whatever insults or orders may follow. But no words came. Instead, a gloved hand slipped a couple of credits into her palm. When she felt the cold touch of metal, her head flipped up to catch the gaze of the Captain.
His eyes were blue. She could see that now, where the shadow of the lights had prevented her before. They sparkled with a childish mischief, similar to the street kids she sometimes played with.
Pirates liked to search for trouble. It was known throughout the galaxy that they were ruthless, cutthroat and cared not about the lives they destroyed in their greed-filled pursuits.
But when the Captain winked at her as he handed her the credits, she felt much safer under that gaze than she ever had a single day under her father's care. As she walked away from the table, she had to fight the smile that threatened to curl up on her face.
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The city of Ochnal never slept. With its bustling space port and its reputation as an outpost for miscreants, the planet often found itself inhabiting many wandering souls as a place of refuge, respite and resupply.
Many locals, like Fenra, had taken advantage of the newer population, opening Cantina's and new vendors opening up shop for necessary supplies those of the criminal occupation sought. Food. Fuel. Weaponry. There was even a significant increase in pleasure houses. Unlawful trade had become rampant in recent years once the Imperial presence had died out and the New Republic’s eye remained far from them.
But one thing that hadn't changed since Kitra had been born was the view of the stars. Ochran’s climate may have been dank and dreary, downpours a common pattern in the weather. But when the sky remained clear of clouds at night, the stars shone so brightly with a burning glow.
It wasn't often Kitra found an opportunity for a break. But when she spied her father passed out at a lone booth in the back of the bar, she took her chance. It was risky, but she told herself she would take thirty minutes to sit down outside and hack away at her current project.
She was pleasantly surprised to find the BD Unit in the scrap heap. It was in terrible condition but she convinced herself she could fix it up. It was something she kept quiet from her father, hopeful that if the droid companion remained secret, he wouldn't take it away. Perhaps then – when she did get it working – she could be a little less lonely.
But the wires weren't fixing themselves in the right ports, far too frayed to stick. And she noticed pieces missing from its circuits that she'd have to buy. The issue was that she had no credits. Apart from the three that the generous pirate captain had slipped to her inside. Not enough to obtain what she needed.
Staring at the optics of the droid in front of her – terribly dark and lifeless – she huffed, craning her neck up to the night sky. So many planets in the galaxy and she was restlessly stuck under the rule of a father who never wanted her. She briefly wondered if the woman who gave birth to her was out there. Somewhere amongst those stars freely traversing the galaxy. Did she ever think of the daughter she left behind thirteen years ago? Kitra doubted it.
Fenra always reminded her of how her mother – she never even learned her name – had left her upon his doorstep, unwanted and alone. He'd searched for her, to beg her to take the child back. But whoever her mother was had been too prepared; stolen away on a cargo freighter bound for another system. Neither of her parents wanted the burden of a child. Her father had just capitalised on the charge he was given.
When Kitra was old enough to understand words, she'd been taught how to fix droids. She'd been forced to memorise the table layout in the bar and set to work before she'd ever been old enough to comprehend what a job meant. And whenever she stumbled, she was punished for it. Even when she wasn't old enough to understand what she was doing wrong.
But when she grew up, she'd learned.
A knot caught in her throat and she looked down at the BD Unit once more. It stared up at her lifelessly and she could've almost cried at the sight. Was this her future? To be used, discarded and end up in the scrap when she had outlived her purpose. On a backwater planet where no one cared about her existence.
It dawned on Kitra then, that she was destined for a terribly lonely death after a terribly lonely and miserable life. The crushing weight of knowing she was going to live and die on Ochran was a little too much to bear.
A commotion by the stairway down into the bar pulled her focus away from the BD Unit, a recognisable voice echoing out into the night. "I'm just going out for some fresh air, start without me. Be ready for when I come back, because you're all gonna lose your credits."
Whoever the voice was talking to replied inaudibly, causing a cackle to rip from the man coming up the stairs. "I'd like to say I've improved, but we'll soon know for sure won't we?"
A figure, shadowed in between the soft glow of the street lights stepped out into the night. Kitra recognised the brown duster and short hair immediately. The man breathed out a deep sigh, hands placing themselves on his hips. Remaining seated on her crate off to the stairway’s right, Kitra studied him. Without the withering presence of the rest of the crew, his shoulders slumped slightly, as if released of a tonne of pressure.
Inside the bar, he had postured in front of them, a suave confidence pouring out of every patch of skin. Now, he seemed pensive; deep in thought. As though the lack of noise finally allowed him to think. Kitra could understand the feeling.
The BD Unit toppled over on its unsteady legs.
The Captain startled at the crash, Kitra's hands fumbling to catch the droid before it fell to the ground. "Kriff." He said. Looking back up, Kitra froze under his surprised gaze. "Karking hell kid, you're quiet."
"Sorry." Kitra mumbled, fiddling with one of the BD Unit's legs.
"Do you do anything other than apologise?" The man said, and Kitra watched the way his brow furrowed, studying her just as she had done him.
"What?"
"You say sorry a lot." He said it so simply and openly that Kitra felt rather disarmed by the notion.
"Sorry." She murmured again. The man raised his eyebrows and an embarrassed heat rose to her cheeks.
His eyes flickered down to the droid still in her grasp, a curious glint coming over them. "What have you got there?"
Kitra looked down, holding the BD Unit so it could be seen under the glow of the street lamps. "Old BD Unit. Been trying to fix it, but it's missing parts I don't have."
Footsteps approached her, and she felt his shadow hover over the crate she sat on. Looking up, she found his gloved hand outstretched towards the droid. "May I?"
Hesitantly, she placed the BD Unit – back port still hanging open where she was trying to fix the wiring – in his hand. He handled it with unexpected care from someone in his profession. Frown lines deepened as he studied the inside of the rectangular 'head'. "I wondered where you ran off to when you were replaced by a service droid. Hiding away from your father?"
It was hard to swallow the knot in her throat, but she choked it down, shrugging off his question. "In the moments I can." It was an odd sensation, displaying her distaste for her father so brazenly. But with how exposed she felt under the sharpness of the pirates gaze, she already had the sense he could see underneath her skin. One interaction between herself and her father was all it took for this man to tell what was happening. And how frightened she was of the man who created her.
She didn't know whether to be terrified or awestruck.
"He doesn't seem like the most pleasant person to be around. It's a wonder this place hasn't been robbed blind with the lack of security and his knack of goading his own customers." The man said.
Kitra found herself fiddling with the Multi-Tool that lay at her side. "The bar is a favourite spot of the local bounty hunter guild. You try and rob the place."
The man hummed in amusement. "Noted. Kriff, it really is a mess inside this thing. Attachment bolts are missing, which means you'll never connect those wires. Not the hardest to come by though."
"Hard enough when you don't have any credits." Kitra mumbled. It was meant to be to herself, yet the sharp intake of breath above her told her that the man heard her.
The BD Unit was placed down beside her, the man following to occupy the rest of the space on the crate. His hand rested on his knee as he appraised her. "You mean to tell me you do all the work in this place and he doesn't pay you?"
Biting her lip, Kitra nodded, "I mean, I am his daughter. It's my responsibility to him-"
"Bantha-fodder." The man interrupted. "You work. You get paid. That should be the deal. I'm some of the worst scum in the galaxy yet I still split my plunder with the rest of the crew. You'd have a mutiny on your hands otherwise."
Kitra craned her neck up to meet the man's eyes, lips twisting into a confused pout at his words. All of her life she had been told she owed her father her labour. He sheltered her, fed her and clothed her. He fulfilled his responsibility to her and she to him. She'd never known anything else. It was the natural order of things, he'd said. All over the galaxy, children worked for their parents. And if they misbehaved, they were punished.
Kitra never even questioned the lack of bruises on the children she played with in the streets. She just figured they were good children who didn't make mistakes.
As if sensing her inability to comprehend such a simple idea, the man moved past the subject with a heavy frown. He picked up the BD Unit. “So, if you had the right parts, you’d be able to fix this?” Kitra nodded, distrusting her voice. “Can you fix any droid?”
Swallowing, she dipped her head back towards the stairwell. “Fixed all the droids in there.” Fenra always got them for cheap due to their state of ruination. But Kitra was naturally gifted with mechanics. So long as she could fix them, her father didn’t care what state he bought them in.
The Captain leaned away slightly, lips dipping down in a thoughtful frown. "Impressive. What's your name, kid?"
Gulping, she looked away. "It's Kitra."
"Kitra? Kitra." He ruminated on her name for a moment too long, before shaking his head and screwing up his face. "Nah, think I'm just gonna call you Kit."
Kitra felt her lips twitch mildly at his words. Just like when he had slipped her the credits at the table he shared with his crew, him calling her Kit sent a foreign warmth through her chest. "I like that. And what's yours?"
"You can call me Silvo." Silvo. It didn't entirely fit him. Something told her the name wasn't true. She'd heard somewhere that most pirates took on false names. A way of forming a new identity from the one they were running from in the first place. Something that struck more profoundly than their true name.
She couldn't imagine any parent naming their child Brutus .
But Silvo had a lovely ring to it. Like a clear chime of a bell. A comforting whisper in the dark.
"So, have you lived on this – in the nicest way possible – shithole of a planet your whole life?" The crude language pulled a snort out of Kitra.
"Born and raised." She said. "Though don't let the locals hear you say that. They get defensive."
"I think I can handle the locals."
Humming, Kitra turned to him again. "Father said you're a pirate."
Silvo held his hands up in surrender. "Guilty as charged."
"So you travel across the whole galaxy? Visiting faraway planets?" She asked.
"When we can." He said, nodding to her question, "We stick to hyperspace lanes mostly. Pillage ships that come our way. Search for treasure ." He leaned in conspiratorially on the last words. When Kitra’s mouth hung open, enthralled, he sat up, letting a small huff of laughter slip. "It's not all glamorous though."
Eyes seeking the stars once again, Kitra smiled wistfully, "Still, must be nice, having that sort of freedom." If she had any other choice, she would've abandoned Ochran a long time ago. But she was a child still. And children remained in the temple of their parents making until they were deemed ready to leave.
Kitra doubted she’d ever be ready to leave. She would never even be let go.
"You want some advice, kid?" Silvo's voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and she turned back to him. His eyes were unreadable, but there was something indescribable about the tiny spark of understanding she found in them. "I've lived many years. And in those years, I've discovered something. People, are obstacles. They attach us to places we don't necessarily want to be in. Sometimes you need to sever what's holding you in place to find your true path in this galaxy." A gloved finger poked towards her chest. "But you have to make that decision for yourself."
In all of her life, Kitra had never heard such sagely advice. Encouraging advice. She grew up with her father's drunken ramblings and jaded insults. Cautionary words that led to a life of being hyper-aware of every step she took. Living in the chilling embrace of fear.
She didn't want to live in terror every single day of life. She wanted to be free of being careful.
"Have you ever played Sabacc?"
The swift topic change flipped her brain around, sending it diving right back into confusion. "What?"
"You ever played Sabacc?" Silvo asked again, a considerate frown pulling his brow together.
Once the question fully registered in her mind, she answered hesitantly. "I've played with the other kids around the area."
Nodding to himself, Silvo stood abruptly, sauntering towards the door. "Good. Come on then." Frozen to her place, Kitra watched him go, expression scrunching up in a half-bewildered stare at the man’s flippant attitude. Silvo stopped at the top of the stairway. He turned back to her, nodding his head down the entrance of the bar. "Well, are you coming?"
"To do what?" Apprehension seized her shoulders, stiffening them in place.
"To play Sabacc of course. My crew are starting up a match inside. Now, they're brutal and bloodthirsty when credits are involved, but I have a hunch you can handle them just fine." Silvo stared at her expectantly, yet Kitra remained where she was.
"I-" She began, fiddling with her Mutli-Tool, "I have to get back to work. My father-"
"Your father has been passed out drunk for the last hour. This place really could be robbed blind and he wouldn't even know it." Silvo interrupted. Kitra let his words sink in, knowing he was correct. When her father passed out, very little could wake him.
Irate father aside there was another problem. "I don't have any credits to play with."
Silvo shrugged, cocking his head. "That's fine. Because you're going to be playing with mine."
If Silvo's words hadn't already confused her, his impassive statement had. "You'd- you'd trust me to play Sabacc with your own credits? Why?"
"Call it curiosity." He said.
"Your curiosity is very misplaced."
"Nah. I don't think it is. Now come along. I'll explain along the way."
Kitra looked back down to the BD Unit – its lifeless eyes glaring back up at her – considering Silvo's words. His offer. Pirates were dangerous. A well known fact across the galaxy. Getting mixed-up with them invited all sorts of trouble; a notion her father had instilled upon her when the bar became popular amongst miscreants. And here she was, toeing a treacherous line.
But Silvo's words had stuck inside her brain. Sometimes you need to sever what ties you to where you are. Kitra didn't want to waste away on a planet that never cared for her. If she could face down a crew of pirates in a game of Sabacc, would that finally give her the courage to make her life her own?
Silvo was also not the only one out of the pair who was curious.
Tucking the BD Unit under her arm and pocketing the Multi-Tool in her jacket, she hopped off the crate. A self-satisfied smile twitched at Silvo's lips as she followed him back down into the bar.
The noise was still terrible when she entered, but Silvo winding an arm around her shoulder as he steered her through the crowd made it lessen somewhat. Muffled the pulse inside her brain.
"Now, here's the deal." Silvo began, the low murmur of his voice still reaching her through the din. "Something the crew like to hold over my head is the fact that I am terrible at Sabacc. They may respect me as their captain, not so much around the gambling table. The amount of times I have been rinsed for credits by Brutus should be criminal. So, what's going to happen here, is I'll provide the credits, you play. You win, we split the winnings. Sound fair?"
Nodding along, Kitra replied, "What makes you so confident that I'll win?"
"Something tells me there's more to you than what's on the surface. I'm just testing that theory." Amusement laced Silvo's tone as they approached the table. "If there's one thing I like more than credits, it's being proved right. Plus I just want to see the look on Brutus' face when he's bested by a child
They stopped at the edge of the table, several players around it enthralled in a game, heads bowed to their cards. Eyes shifted between their hands and the other players, studying their behaviour. Tracing every single tiny flicker in each other's expression. The rest of the crew loomed around them, hardly breathing in anticipation.
Silvo's coat shifted beside her as he crouched down to whisper to her. "You're already observing them, that's good. But look at every single detail. Make note of every slip. When the time comes, use it against them."
Swallowing down her nerves, Kitra folded her arms, eyes flickering around each player. They cycled through a trading phase. The woman to Brutus' left, a heavy-set human with tanned skin and a tight braid, discarded a card and picked one from the pile in the middle. Her lips remained still, but a slight twitch at her eye gave away her frustration. Brutus was next, picking a card straight from the deck. His teeth bared, displaying knife-like fangs. Kitra couldn't tell whether it was a grimace or a grin.
The other two players were far easier to read. Another human male, dark-skinned and bald with cybernetic augmentations over his ears and right eye. His mouth remained in a tight-line, but it strained with the card he picked. And finally, a leathery-skinned Quarren whose facial tentacles twitched habitually.
Another few rounds passed – betting, trading, dice – the stakes rising as more credits were added to the pot. The players continued their tense silence, gazes flickering languidly across the table. All background noise disappeared, Kitra keeping her gaze focused on every single play. Cards being placed in the interference field. The way the woman's shoulders relaxed minutely when the dice called for no shift. Brutus' consistently bared teeth.
Kitra shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. "They're very good players. I don't think I can beat them." She whispered to Silvo.
The man crouched down at her again. "Don't let them intimidate you. You have a major advantage against them here." When he didn't elaborate, Kitra turned her head, fixing him with a confused stare. He continued. "Your youth. Let them underestimate you and then pull out something unexpected. That's how you'll win."
Brow furrowing, Kitra went back to watching the game. When they entered the next trading phase, the woman called out with conviction, "Alderaan."
The dark-skinned man winced. The Quarren's tentacles twitched with agitation. Brutus remained unmoved, a statue of resolution. Completing the rest of the trading round – Brutus staying, and the other two making final trades in hopes of a better hand than they obviously had – the round came to an end.
The dark-skinned man sighed, revealing his cards. "Nineteen."
Chucking down his hand, the Quarren grunted. "Bombed out."
"Tough luck boys." Shaking her head in amusement, the woman placed her cards down, revealing a straight twenty-three.
Brutus barked out a laugh. "Unfortunate for you, Kona." The Shistavanen's hand was revealed. Minus twenty-three. "Was about to call Alderaan myself."
"Damn you, Brutus."
The surrounding crew erupted into cheers, the noise eliciting a flinch from Kitra. With a familiar paranoia creeping up the back of her neck, her head darted around the bar, searching for a familiar mop of dark hair that sent pitiful dread surging through her bones. He always appeared with noise.
The arm that remained around her shoulder squeezed. Not the harsh clamp of her father’s finger, but half-reassuring. It brought her back to the table, and Silvo murmured to her again. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye out for daddy dearest. You just keep your focus on the game."
Nodding, Kitra steeled herself. Fighting off the apprehension that felt like a second skin, she glanced at the table again. Silvo had placed an unfamiliar sense of faith in her. A desperate part, hidden deep down inside her, wanted to prove herself to him.
"Who wants to continue trying their luck?" Brutus’ rasp sailed above the pulsating noise of the crowd.
Silvo stood up straight, nudging her forward. "Got room for another player?"
All heads turned to their captain, passing straight over the flighty girl standing next to him. Brutus chuckled from his spot at the table. "You asking to be rinsed of credits again captain?"
Silvo shook his head, "Not me. Her." The dip of his head directed their attention to her. Multiple eyes bore holes into Kitra's skin, and her scratchy shirt began feeling tight and uncomfortable; her mind self-inflicting an imagined constriction on her chest. Swallowing back shallow breaths, she attempted to make herself stand tall. To not wither away under the angry red eyes of the Shistavanen.
He grinned menacingly. "Does the brat even know how to play?"
Running her tongue over her suddenly dry lips, she forced herself to speak. "I know the rules."
A white lie. Amongst the street kids who played Sabacc – betting trinkets found in the scraps, measly pocket-change and food – she had learned to best them all. And when it came to games, children could be as brutal as any pirate. But she didn't have to tell them that. Silvo was correct. She was young. They'd underestimate her. Let them think she was clueless all they like. Because when she played their game and played it well, she'd be the one laughing.
"Ah, what the hell." The Quarren muttered, standing from his chair. "I'm out of creds anyway. She can take my spot."
"How gracious of you Glerb." Silvo said, pushing her forward by the shoulders towards the now empty seat. It placed her directly opposite Brutus, who sneered down at her. Suppressing a shiver, she peered back up at Silvo, who patted her shoulder encouragingly. "Remember everything I said. Here." A large pouch was produced from his waistband, being placed down on the table with a resounding clink.
The terrible noise of the bar died down.
"Still risking your own credits, captain?" Brutus asked.
"Not a risk if she wins." Silvo said, the suave confidence he'd displayed all evening shielding him from any taunt Brutus threw his way. It was awe-inspiring, how easily he could place that posturing mask on again.
"Not a chance." Brutus’ statement remained unanswered. Instead, Silvo’s lips twitched up, a self-assured smirk on his face as he turned his gaze to Kitra one last time. Prove me right , he mouthed, sending her one last spirited wink.
Stifling down the last of her nerves, Kitra turned back to the pouch in front of her, pulling the credits out and stacking them on the table. Locking eyes with Brutus across the table, she remained resolute under his withering glare. The red eyes had made her want to hide before. To disappear back into the crowd where she'd gone unnoticed her whole life.
But newfound determination would see her through. She was tired of hiding. Living a life in fear was exhausting and weighed on her so heavily that if she remained any longer, she’d be sure to perish. If she could take on an entire table of pirates in a game of Sabacc, she felt like she could take on the entire galaxy.
The woman – Kona – was selected as the dealer. Each player paid their ante; a credit each into the Sabacc pot. The cards were shuffled, two passed out to each player. Brutus had not backed down, pulling Kitra into an unwitting staring match. She held his venomous gaze as best she could.
Kona's deep baritone pulled her out of it. "Left of the dealer pays the blind, kid. Forgotten the rules already?"
There was no slip-up on her part. She hadn’t forgotten the rules. It was purposeful; playing the foolish, naive kid that was in over her own head. The rumbling chuckle around the table told her the act was bought and sold. Perfect. She was ready to pull the rug out. Picking up a credit from her pile, she flicked it up, its trajectory landing it directly in the centre of the table. Instead of nerves prickling her gut, a thrilling anticipation buzzed in her bones. With one last glance at Silvo, she sent the man a swift wink, allowing her lips to twitch upwards ever so slightly, before picking up her cards.
The game had begun. And she was going to win.