So uh... Who wants to guess what Fynta did to get Noara arrested? Chaos sent me this amazing art a few weeks ago and I am literally the worst and dragged my heels on posting it. Thank you! I love it and I am sure @cinlat does too.
Secret Santa gift fic for @cinlat! I thought long and hard about what a perfect Life Day celebration would look like for a Mandalorian, and this is what I came up with.
I hope I managed to get Fynta (and Aric) right, thank you for letting me have fun with them. Just let me now if there is anything you want changed, it's no problem. Happy Life Day!
~~~
A time of joy, this is. Of friendship. Of family. - Master Yoda
~~~
Fynta landed a punch square in the bounty hunter's face. As he went down behind the counter, his nose made a satisfying sound. It was followed by a Wookiee's battlecry, several glass bottles breaking and an alarm starting off in the distance.
Within seconds the whole cantina erupted into chaos. Droids screeched, patrons dropped their cards and gathered their credit chips, stuffing them into their pockets. A table was flipped over and all the drinks spilled on the floor. Everybody who was not ready to join the fighting scrambled for the exit.
Fynta was having the time of her life. She kicked a Nikto in the groin and ducked under the swing of a Trandoshan bouncer, tackling him to the ground with all her strength. The evening had started out with so much promise and it was only getting better and better.
Another bounty hunter came at her with a vibroknife, but as he saw the smirk on Fynta's face he reconsidered his course of action and backed off with raised hands.
Turning around and looking for a new opponent, Fynta was suddenly lifted off her feet. The roar ringing in her ears left no doubt as to who had just picked a fight with her. Haar'chak!
The Wookiee was strong. Hairy arms lifting her up in a durasteel grip as if she were merely a doll. From the corner of her eyes Fynta noticed a worried Aric trying to fight his way through the crowd, but then all she could see was the dirty floor of the cantina coming up to meet her.
The impact rattled her teeth, pushed the air from her lungs so she couldn't even curse, but it didn't slow her down. In one fluid motion she jumped back on her feet and faced her opponent again. The Wookiee towered over her, attempted to grab her, but Fynta was faster, dancing out of reach only to attack with a series of punches.
They traded punches for a while, both of them giving as good as they got, both of them unable to finish the other off. It was only when Fynta realized the cantina had gone suspiciously quiet that she lowered her fists and looked around. The Wookiee did the same.
Most of the fighting seemed to have ended, just as quickly as it had started. Some of the clients were already back to drinking or playing Sabacc, others were watching Fynta's fistfight with interest (and probably placing a few bets on them as well).
Aric was standing next to them with arms crossed in front of his chest, tapping his foot.
Before Fynta could say anything the Wookiee started laughing and those big, wiry arms gathered her into a crushing hug.
~~~
A little later they were sitting together on one of the cantina's big tables, sharing a bottle of Mandalorian black ale. The Wookiee, her name was difficult to pronounce but she seemed nice enough, voiced her appreciation loudly. She seemed delighted with her new acquaintances, and had already ordered a new round for them to share.
Aric pressed an ice cold drink to a dark bruise on his temple. He made a grumpy face, but Fynta knew it was just out of principle. He looked good like this, fresh from the fight, and she made a mental note to tell her husband later.
For now she just refilled his glass with a big grin on her face. “So what was it you were saying earlier?”
“Before you launched yourself at that guy? I was just asking if Mandalorians have any special Life Day traditions.” Fynta raised her eyebrow, about to launch into an explanation, but it was the Wookiee who spoke up first.
Joy. Friendship. Family. That was what Life Day was about. Wasn't this what Mandalorians valued as well? And hadn't this been the most fun ever? What a fight it had been.
Fynta's grin only widened as she agreed and raised her glass in a silent toast. This was indeed the best kind of Life Day for a Mandalorian. Fighting and drinking, enjoying life. Sharing that joy of being alive with your friends (she raised the glass to her new Wookiee friend) ... and your family.
She looked at Aric and saw that frown on his face melt a little.
Look, this request is so old that I can’t even remember when it was sent. I have no reasoning except I’m a general failure as a person. Have this story as an apology.
Awareness returned in agonizing pulses. Dense foliage overhead, completely foreign with the dark greens vines clinging to impossibly tall trees. The rank stench of burning wires. Thin silver lines splintered across Genma’s vision while colored lights flashed in front of his eyes. His heartbeat was erratic, pounding in his ears, then slowing to a more manageable rate. Warmth coated one leg and he was fairly sure that at least two fingers were broken. Blinking the pain away, Genma tried to force the images to steady.
Blue eyes appeared above the man’s face, disarrayed strands of blond hair framing smudged, dirty skin. The woman’s voice buzzed in his ear, but Genma couldn’t decipher the meaning. Fynta smacked the side of his helmet and the static increased to a high-pitched whine. She fumbled with something on Genma’s neck and the sound stopped.
Genma had expected a wash of cool air when the heavy metal was removed, but was met with the fetid scene of swamp and humidity that immediately made sweat pop out on his clammy skin. Animal noises replaced the hissing from his armor, difficult to distinguish from the ringing in Genma’s ears. He tried to move, but the woman above him kept him from sitting up. Genma coughed and tasted blood on his tongue. “Am I dead?”
Fynta slapped something wet against Genma’s thigh. “Not yet, and that kolto will hopefully keep you from getting any closer.”
“What the hell is kolto?” Genma groaned and fumbled at the bandage. “Are you trying to poison me?”
The blond arched one eyebrow then rolled her eyes. “I’m trying to keep you alive, but if you don’t move soon it’s going to be pointless.”
Genma frowned, taking in the scene around him. He lay hip deep in murky, green water with bits of burning debris sparking in the gloom. Smoke rose in black columns from the wreckage--frown lines around his mouth deepened, then he growled. “I thought you said you knew how to fly that ship.”
“It was a shuttle, not a ship,” Fynta corrected, smirking as she rocked back on her heels. “And I would have made it if my partner knew anything about using the blaster cannon.”
Huffing under his breath, Genma struggled to his feet. “I told you that I didn’t know how to use it,” he growled. “You said I just had to point and click, like that makes any sense.”
Fynta laughed and shrugged, moving further away from the smoking remains of their getaway shuttle. Genma winced when he put weight on the leg she’d covered in a bandage, but the pain wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. He sighed and shook his head. “How long until they figure out where we went down?”
“Three minutes ago, give or take.” Fynta’s laughter sounded louder than it should have in the heavy forest. “Your unconsciousness cost us some time, so we need to move. Think you can keep up?”
Genma shook his head, wondering how he was ever going to make it out of this mission alive. “Do I have a choice?”
Summary: The chapter where Fynta enters the story. What could go wrong?
Chapter Word Count: 3,008
Chapter Rating: T
Ao3 Link
“This place is filthy.” Altan curled his lip, revealing the tips of his sharp teeth. “And chaotic.” With the last part, the Togruta tugged up his hood and retreated within.
Caldus agreed with his younger brother, though for different reasons. The cloying stench of unwashed bodies and lust clawed at his throat no matter how tightly he sealed the filters in his helmet.
Verin gave a dry chuckle and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Welcome to Hutta, boys. A world of debauchery and unrivaled suffering.” Caldus huffed while Altan sank deeper into his cloak. “Come on, she should be in her room by now.”
The only reason Caldus had accompanied the older Mandalorian into the palace was because Altan was curious. As the elder brother, it was his responsibility to make sure Altan made it home. Otherwise, he might have retreated to the ship and let Verin handle his family business alone.
Verin walked with a familiar swagger, the same as a lot of the old timers, though Caldus didn’t think the man was more than a decade older than himself. For a short guy, he didn’t struggle to keep up with Caldus and Altan’s longer stride. At least, not after some quiet chastisement from his brother forced Caldus to shorten his steps; but only slightly.
Once they reached the palace, Verin took the lead as the only one who had ever been there before. The main room boasted the expected sticky floor and slouched drunkards. An odd mixture of decadent fabrics and plush furniture combined with the sort of depravity that made his skin crawl.
Verin didn’t linger, at least, but turned down the left corridor and up a flight of stairs. They moved unhindered until deep within the palace. Caldus thought that was a serious oversight in security. They were two floors up before running into their first checkpoint. Caldus wondered how big this palace was, and where the Hutt who owned it lived.
”State your business.” The Gammorrean grunted, leaning around to see the hutball game on the screen behind them.
Verin held his datapad in front of its face. Caldus realized he wasn’t sure if the creature in front of him was male or female. The guard blinked at the small screen, pretended it could read, then waved them on.
Caldus caught a glimpse of Verin’s ticket as he tucked it away. A Pleasure Pass valued at nearly four thousand credits. For all her sneering about the business, Mako managed to snag them a top class entry.
After counting off the rooms, Verin stopped and knocked twice, paused, then added a third before tapping his datapad against the locking mechanism. Caldus heard movement on the other side and held his arm out in front of Altan to stop the younger man from following. The resulting clang that had Verin stumbling backward from the room he’d entered brought Caldus unending satisfaction.
”Shab Fyn’ika,” Verin huffed from where he sat in the middle of the hallway. “Good thing my buc’ye was still on.”
The woman in question stormed from the room with a heavy bottle raised above her head. She stopped, dark brows raised. “Verin? What the hell are you doing here?” Deep blue found Caldus and Altan, her head tipping back. “And who are these beasts?”
A snarl slipped free from Caldus before he realized she was remarking on their size rather than their species. He still wore his helmet, and Altan was half hidden behind him so she couldn’t have made him for a Togruta yet. Caldus swallowed his retort and clamped his lips shut.
“We’re here to rescue you.” Verin shoved up from the floor without the aid of those standing around him. “Didn’t you hear me knock?”
Fynta lowered her weapon, then jerked her head for them to move into the room. Verin harrumphed his way inside, while Caldus and Altan followed at a more respectful distance. He wasn’t sure that Fynta could reach his head without aid, but the parts she could reach he’d prefer to keep unassaulted.
Once the door snapped shut, Fynta dropped the bottle on an overstuffed chair and set about drying her hair. It was only then that Caldus realized she wore little more than a sports bra and shorts. She had the kind of brown skin Caldus remembered seeing on workers who spent their lives in the sun. Her black hair was a matted mess of wet tangles that she attacked with a brush as if it were her nemesis. Caldus also noted that there was indeed a target tattoo surrounding a nasty bruise on her right eye.
Upon closer inspection, Caldus could pick out the similarities between the Wolfe siblings, though Verin’s coloring was lighter all around. They shared those odd, ocean deep eyes, nose, and both looked to be well muscled and stocky. Caldus couldn’t keep his eyes from straying to the impressive set of abs emphasized by how little she wore. To say nothing of the definition of her thighs and arms. Then, he noticed the cybernetic that replaced her left leg from the knee down and glanced at his brother. Unsurprisingly, Altan’s gaze had locked on that. Caldus doubted the Togruta had even noticed the woman’s face.
“They took my comm,” Fynta huffed, waving the hairbrush now clogged with black strands at her brother. “I was going to get it from Cin tonight so I could let—our contact know that we move tomorrow.”
”Speaking of my lovely wife, where is she?” Verin removed his helmet and leaned a hip on the edge of the table, watching his sister with a warmth that made Caldus realize how much fear the man had bottled up on their trip here. It annoyed Caldus to find common ground with the hunter, but he had to admire Verin's poise. If Altan were in this situation, Caldus would be beside himself with—he shook his head, it didn’t bear consideration.
Still, Caldus couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what it meant to be an adult. He was heading towards his mid-twenties and still felt the need to ask Valk if he could go out for drinks with the guys. Even on this trip, he’d taken a backseat and let Verin make the decisions because he seemed to know what he was doing. Would that be Caldus one day? Would he wake up and find the galaxy made sense?
“She’ll be here soon,” Fynta answered, finally giving up on her hair and tossing the brush in the same direction as her improvised weapon. “She’s getting me some untainted food.”
As if summoned, another set of coded knocks echoed from the door. Fynta shooed her brother out of her way and tapped the latch button to admit Cinlat. Verin rushed forward to take the bags from the tiny figure who entered behind him.
Somehow, Caldus had envisioned the famed bounty hunter to be a giant. The larger than life winner of the Great Hunt some decade or so ago. This woman in the red and black beskar’gam didn’t even reach his chest.
After pressing his forehead to his wife’s helmet, Verin dropped the bags on the table and dug through them. “Have they tried to drug you?”
”Succeeded once,” Cinlat answered, her voice deep and robotic through the helmet speakers. “I found her hunched over the toilet with half her hand down her throat and a fever that would have killed anyone with more brain cells."
Fynta shrugged and snagged a wrapped sandwich from her brother. “Still not sure what that was. It passed all the tests.”
Cinlat made a noise that Caldus couldn’t decipher and turned towards him. “You must be Beroya’s boys.”
Caldus dipped his head out of respect, but he wasn’t ready to join the conversation yet. There was a lot to process in this room. The woman they were joining forces sounded…chaotic. Caldus needed a moment to take it all in and decide if this contract was worth the risks if this was the normal life Fynta led.
Then again, Cinlat and Verin were revered. Even Fynta had a reputation that Mando’ade whispered about. Apart from being a massive brute who could track game, Caldus had no such clout. He would never get any either unless he took risks. Fynta seemed to attract plenty of those.
Verin invaded his sister's personal space, trying to examine the blackened eye. She batted him away, even going so far as to plant her natural foot in his stomach and shove. The man folded his arms and frowned. “What happened?”
“Zigged when I should have zagged.” When Verin’s frown deepened, Fynta rolled her eyes like the petulant little sister she’d probably been. “It’s the Pits, di’kut, what do you think happened?”
When Verin only huffed in response, Fynta went back to the bag for seconds. “We’ll call it a lesson learned.”
Caldus heard Altan’s stomach rumble and made a mental note to find something to eat when they were done here. Fynta beat him to it, holding out a wrapped skewer towards the Togruta. “It’s probably a rodent. Helps not to sniff it before you eat.”
To Caldus’s surprise, Altan accepted, and the skewer vanished into the depths of his hood. Fynta made no remark on the odd behavior, but continued her story while crumpling up the empty bag. “Tomorrow is the auction fight. Once I win, I’ll be taken to the platform where our source says the kids are.”
”You’re sure about this?” Verin’s brows pulled together, a strange expression crossing his face. Now that he was back with his wife and sister, the easy going facade that he’d presented to everyone at the enclave slipped.
For his part, Caldus’s attention perked up at the mention of auctioning off kids. Even Altan had gone completely still, the half eaten skewer dangling from his fingers.
”I confirmed it when I got here.” Cinlat leaned against Verin’s side, and he slid an arm around her. “It’s the only reason I’m still here.”
Fynta gestured at the two hunters with the remains of her sandwich. “Once I figure out where they are being kept, we can figure out how to get them off world.”
”Can our Friend help out,” Verin asked his wife, before settling his glare on Fynta. “Since it’s kind of her fault we’re in this situation in the first place. She should’ve known better than to give half baked intel to Fynta.”
Cinlat’s helmet angled as well, and Caldus felt like he was missing an entire portion of this conversation. Fynta threw her hands up, crumpling the food wrapper in the process. “We would've taken the job eventually. I just did the heavy lifting.”
An audible sigh wheezed through Cinlat’s speakers, and Caldus resisted the urge to smirk. “Regardless,” the hunter began. “Yes, I have contacts. Now, we just need to get into the fights so we can offer backup.”
”About that.” Verin gestured at Altan with the hand not hugging his wife close. “It seems our boy here is good at more than sharpshooting.”
At the sudden shift of attention, Altan slinked deeper into his hood. He didn’t edge behind Caldus, though. Clearly, the Togruta wanted to stand alone, he just didn’t want to be perceived while doing so. Caldus flexed his fingers to resist stepping in front of his brother.
”He has a little friend on planet,” Verin continued as if he didn’t notice Altan’s discomfort. That irritated Caldus, though he swallowed his grumblings. “She got us in here tonight and a VIP box next to an exit.”
”Smart girl,” Cinlat commented.
An alert chimed on Verin’s datapad, a warning that his time with the champion was at an end. The man stood and strode across the room to where his sister leaned against her desk. “We’ll find a way to communicate with you during the fight. Whatever happens, roll with it.”
“I always do,” the woman grinned back.
Verin rolled his eyes, then wrapped one hand around Fynta’s neck and bumped their foreheads. “Stay out of trouble until then.”
Fynta chuckled and shoved him away. “Ori’pel.”
With a snort, Verin waved for everyone to head out. Caldus waited until Cinlat was between him and Verin before following, but paused when he realized that Altan hadn’t moved. The Togruta reached up and lowered his hood, dipping his head. “It was nice meeting you.”
”Likewise,” Fynta beamed, surprising Altan into a smile of his own. Then, he covered himself with the hood again and scurried after Verin and Cinlat.
Caldus stared at the woman for a moment longer. Fynta met his visor’s gaze easily. “What’s up, Cabur?” He frowned at the word. Caldus had been with Valk and Jos for seven years. He spoke Mando’a fluently, but word usage varied from clan to clan.
“Good luck, tomorrow.” Caldus ducked through the door before Fynta could answer, straightening on the other side. “Where to now?”
”I’d like to talk to Mako again,” Altan chimed, then more forcefully. “I think she might be able to help us with our communication issue with Fynta.”
”Then that’s where we go.” Cinlat’s voice rasped through the speakers, and Caldus couldn’t help but wonder what she looked and sounded like beneath the armour. Clearly, she used the armour to hide her identity. It wasn’t unheard of, but becoming more rare. Even the official Hunt records only ever pictured the woman inside a completely sealed set of beskar’gam.
The group walked in silence through the palace, just four Mandalorians looking for a good time. Once outside, Cinlat paused, her vizor tilting up at Caldus, then over to Altan. He saw the moment his claws caught her attention.
“You Cathar?” The fact that she’d figured it out so quickly had Caldus nodding in agreement before he could stop himself. When she looked over at Altan, her next statement carried more weight. “I heard Jos and Valk had taken in a couple of alien boys, but that is unexpected.”
Caldus remained silent, so Verin answered. “We aren’t allowed to ask.”
“It was better than being an Imperial slave,” Caldus answered, mostly to spite Verin. While the man had been nothing but friendly, he rubbed Caldus the wrong way.
”That’s fair,” Cinlat answered and didn’t ask for more. The tension in Caldus’s shoulders relaxed a modicum that she didn’t expect the full story from him.
As they walked, Caldus glanced at his brother every so often, noting that he’d been buried in his datapad since they left. Finally, Altan took up position on the opposite side of Verin, placing both hunters between the brothers. “You’ve done this often. Freed slaves.” It wasn’t a question that required an answer, but Cinlat gave a sharp nod of her helmet.
To his knowledge, Caldus was the only slave freed by Mandalorians. They were allied with the Empire, where owning other beings was not only legal, but a sign of status. Seeing others from a different clan doing so caused an unwelcome bloom of hope in him. Caldus crushed it immediately and changed the subject. “What do we do for the rest of the night?”
Verin took the lead as they crossed the threshold into the noisy cantina. Weaving through the back hallways with Cinlat and Altan falling behind and Caldus slumping into the rear. “We plan,” Verin answered while looking over his shoulder. Whatever else he might have added turned into a strangled yelp when the hum of an energy blade hovered at his throat.
Caldus pulled his blaster at the same time as Cinlat and Altan. He might not enjoy Verin’s company, but he’d be damned if the man got himself killed on his watch. A treacherous voice warned that if Fynta was as careless as her brother, then the mission was already a failure. Caldus crushed that thought too. He needed this to work.
The woman who pinned Verin against the wall was no bigger than Cinlat, with dark hair and angry pale eyes. It was the green beam of energy that held Caldus’s attention, though. “Who are you? More of his lackeys?” Her hissed words were accompanied by a flash of blunt teeth.
Verin’s hands raised slowly. “We might be in the wrong room.”
”Release him, or I’ll add a new hole to that pretty face, girl,” Cinlat snarled. For all her aloofness earlier, Caldus caught the undercurrent of possession. He couldn’t pretend to understand the older couple, but there was no doubt that Verin belonged to her.
”Whoa, what the—“ Mako ran into the room, shoving Altan’s arm away when he tried to bar her path. “Easy, these are friendlies. Sheesh, I leave for five minutes and you’re all ready to kill each other.”
The woman with the energy blade eased back, but she didn’t release Verin. “You know these Mandalorians, Mako?”
”Yeah, well, mostly.” Mako’s brown eyes widened when they landed on the newest member of the group. “No way, you’re Cinlat. I’ve read all about your tactics. Do you mind if I pick your brain a little? This is our champion for the Great Hunt, Noara Naberrie, and I’d love to get a professional’s opinion.”
”Only if she lets my husband go.” Cinlat’s voice remained tight, her blaster still leveled on the younger woman. Caldus appreciated the lack of shake in her hold.
Finally, the dark haired woman deactivated her weapon and pushed away from Verin. “Sorry, we’ve run into some bad luck with Mandalorians lately.” The hardness in those icy blue eyes made it clear enough what kind of troubles she meant. A hypothesis confirmed when Mako’s shoulders slumped and her mood dulled.
The woman looked to her friend. “Are you okay with them? I need to—do something.” If she was a contender for the Hunt, Caldus didn’t blame her for being discreet.
”I’m good. Be careful out there.” Mako waved the woman away, then turned to them. “Sorry. Like Noara said, we’ve hit a rough patch. I don’t want to talk about it. Anyway, what can I do for you?”
Summary: Fynta and Caldus finally come to a head and are forced to enter into a shaky truce for Altan's sake. Oh, and there is plot…
Chapter Word Count: 3,295
Chapter Rating: T
Ao3 Link
Fynta might have been more excited about Altan’s new armour than he was. Still, she’d seen more smiles from the Togruta in the last few hours than the entire trip combined. They were back on the floor while he put the finishing touches on her new helmet and she explored his tools without touching them. Fynta opened her mouth to ask more about growing up on Rishi when the door snapped open.
Caldus staggered in, took one look at them seated on the floor and bared his teeth. Fynta had a feeling she was going to see a lot of those teeth before this job was over. “You two look cozy,” the Cathar grumbled, one hand pressed to the wall. A brown bag dangled from the other, and the clink from within told her everything she needed to know about its contents.
A single glance at Altan told Fynta this wasn’t unusual. Fynta had read somewhere that a Cathar’s metabolism rivaled that of even her clansmen when it came to alcohol. The sheer volume he’d have to drink to reach his current state must have put a decent sized dent in the yacht’s supply. She hoped he left some for the rest of them.
A heavy silence filled the room while Caldus glared and Altan tinkered. Standing, Fynta dropped the datapad in Altan’s lap so he could complete the final touches on his armour request. “I’m going to hit the fresher.” She could see a brewing sibling-type argument in Caldus’s eyes and didn’t want to get involved.
Caldus tracked Fynta all the way to the fresher, his molten eyes burning with disdain until they vanished behind the closed door. She didn’t bother pretending that she wasn’t going to listen and pressed her ear to the hollow material in time to hear the Cathar’s rumbling growl.
“You got a crush on her?” A loud thump indicated that Caldus had made it to the bed.
Altan’s answer was softer, almost ashamed. “She’s our ally. There is no point in alienating her.”
”She’s a fucking human.” The venom behind those words painted a clear picture. Verin had told Fynta about the Cathar’s comment to Cinlat. That it was better being feared in beskar than a slave to Imperials.
“She’s using you,” Caldus spat, followed by the rattle of bottles. “Don’t let your guard down.”
”She’s not the one treating me like a child,” Altan snapped, then took a deep breath. “I’m an asset to her, not someone she had to protect.”
Caldus’s snarled response was too low to translate through the fresher door. Fynta decided to make her entrance while Altan was still brave enough to face off with his brother. She imagined being a quiet man in Clan Vizla meant his opinions were often drowned out by their noise.
Throwing open the door, Fynta stretched as she crossed the room. She ignored Caldus’s glare and reclaimed her seat on the floor next to Altan. He offered her the datapad, eyes still fixed on his brother, and Fynta sent the armour request to Solus. Caldus sat forward, his knee jabbing into Fynta’s shoulder. She gave it a shove and the grumpy bastard spread out more.
”Now that everyone is here,” Fynta started, refusing to look at the Cathar. “Shall we go over these files?”
That got Caldus’s attention at least. Altan’s too.
They stopped glaring at one another long enough to move closer to her. Fynta opened the holo program on her datapad and entered the password that Keeper had included in their hiring packet. “Where should we start?”
Altan reached forward, hesitating until Fynta moved the datapad closer to him, then scanned through the items. “There were four other teams before us, one was an Imperial Spec Ops group. There should be body-cam footage.”
A few more swipes, and the Togruta’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Nothing. That’s odd.” Even with full access, the contract was vague. Altan’s brows drew together. “Just this file from nearly a month ago, no label.”
”Play it,” Caldus rumbled, dropping what Fynta realized was an empty beer bottle onto the floor beside her. He sighed and leaned over her shoulder to see the screen. “Maybe it will show us what we’re up against.”
Caldus’s thigh pushed against Fynta’s shoulder, but she refused to be moved. The haze of alcohol seemed to clear from his eyes by the second, leaving Fynta impressed with how quickly the man sobered, maybe even a little jealous.
Tapping the file, Fynta ignored the blatant posturing at her back and focused on the shaky images of a dark room. “Is that flashing light a marquee?” Altan asked, brown eyes narrowed at the screen.
Fynta hadn’t considered the lighting, she was too focused on the figures within the smoke-filled space. Sure enough, it flashed through a series of neon colors consistent with advert boards. “Whatever this is, it's been on Nar Shaddaa the entire time.” It was a small clue, but helped establish a timeline and sequence of events. If their quarry had been there from the beginning, then it was unlikely her small team needed to watch the spaceport.
Fynta started to nudge Altan’s shoulder, then settled for a smile. “Good catch.”
The scene illuminated, triggering a hiss from Caldus, but Fynta was transfixed. “That looked like lightning.” A mountainous creature stepped into frame briefly, snarling words Fynta couldn’t translate, but she swore she felt the vibrations through the feed. Curses filled the audio, accompanied by blaster fire from multiple directions, then the feed cut out.
They sat there staring at the blank screen. Thirty seconds of chaos and nightmare fuel, but no answers. Finally, Cladus voiced what they were all thinking. ”What the fuck was that?”
“May I?” Altan asked, palm open and stretched towards Fynta.
She relinquished the datapad and leaned closer to Altan while he scrolled manually through the footage. It meant she leaned against his shoulder, but the Togruta didn’t tense this time, so Fynta didn’t back up. She wanted to see what his eye had caught that hers missed.
Altan’s finger slid slowly along the motion bar, pausing on the half revealed monstrosity. It looked like nothing Fynta had seen before. Yellow skin stretched across slabs of thick muscle that made Caldus look ordinary. It was the red glowing eyes and vicious looking fangs that captured Fynta’s attention, though.
“I think…” Altan rubbed his mouth, the lines of his brows pulling together. “I think it's a Dashade.”
“A what?” Fynta and Caldus asked in unison. They shared a look, his irritated and hers probably irritating.
Altan ignored them, transfixed by that blurry image. “An ancient creature on the verge of extinction.”
Setting the footage aside, Altan collected his personal device and scrolled until he landed on what he was looking for. When he turned it towards them, Caldus leaned over Fynta, his breath a distraction against her neck. The Cathar had made his distaste for humans clear, but that didn’t stop her from appreciating the mountain of man at her back.
“They are Force resistant,” Altan explained, pulling the datapad back to himself when neither of his companions looked at the information it displayed. “I remember reading about them a few years back when I was studying Sith Ancestry. Once a mighty warrior species turned assassins for the Sith.”
A low rumble vibrated against Fynta’s shoulder and she was sure it did not have the desired effect. Thankfully, Caldus didn’t seem to notice. “So they fucked around with a Dashade. Now it’s loose. Fantastic.” The Cathar chuffed and straightened, leaving Fynta chilled without his inhuman body heat.
“It’s flesh and blood, just like anything else.” Fynta took a shaky breath and forced herself to focus on the real threat in the room instead of her hormones. Though, capturing the thing alive looked like a distant priority now. Dead with proof might have to be enough.
”It’s also an endangered species,” Altan argued, his voice firming the same way it had when they discussed his skill with a rifle. “Whatever they did to him is not his fault.”
Fynta saw the heart of a boy, then. The young man who’d somehow remained gentle despite the way he’d come into his family. She risked a look at Caldus, and for once, didn’t find fury in those bright eyes. The Cathar ran a hand down his face and sighed. “It might not be its fault, but it still needs to be put down.”
“Why?” Altan jabbed a finger at the screen. “Because whoever created it says so?”
Before either of them could answer, the Togruta shoved to his feet with unnatural grace. “I need to stretch my legs.”
Caldus started to stand, but Fynta elbowed his calf and shook her head. To her surprise, the grumpy Cathar flopped back onto the mattress. She waited until Altan was clear of the door before adding more. “Let him sort out his feelings. I have faith that he’ll do the right thing when the time comes.”
“He’s been like that since I’ve known him.” Caldus snorted. “Protect the ant hill, feed the strays, rescue the downtrodden. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that it extends to monsters.”
Climbing to her feet, Fynta arched her back until her spine popped, then looked around. “Hey, where’d you put those beers?” She found them before Caldus could answer and snagged one from the bag next to his boot.
The Cathar settled against the headboard of his bed, golden eyes focusing on her with a predator's intensity. “Those are mine.”
”Right,” Fynta smacked the top of the bottle against a ridge on her prosthetic with a grin. Then, she lifted it in cheers. “Thanks.”
A long breath escaped through Caldus’s nostrils as he produced a blade. Fynta lifted a brow at the open threat, then added the other when a block of foam appeared next. “Since I’m sober now, hand me one too.”
Fynta obliged, setting the bottle on the table that separated their beds. Long curls of foam drifted into the cloth spread across Caldus’s lap. Those massive hands with their sharp claws cradled the foam block with practiced care. Fynta wondered what it would become, and if he’d show her when it was finished.
Fynta must have hovered too long because Caldus slowly raised his eyes. “What?”
“How much can you drink before you feel it?” Fynta propped her shoulder against the wall, pretending that she wasn’t more interested in what he was creating. If she asked directly, the stubborn Cathar would shut down and she’d never find out what it was.
Caldus must have read the challenge between Fynta’s words, because he flashed a few too many teeth to be friendly. “Don’t try it, human. You wouldn’t survive.”
Fynta renewed her grin, pleased to have an interaction that didn’t involve snarls—yet. “Don’t you know it’s instinctual for a Mandalorian to push her limits?” To prove her point, Fynta let her gaze slip down Caldus’s body. Even with his back to the wall, the man’s feet nearly reached the end of the bed. One of his thighs was as large as her waist, and fierfek, those arms.
A snarl rolled through Caldus, snapping Fynta’s attention up to his eyes. His teeth were bared, those burning embers filled with more rage than she deserved. Fynta was rarely innocent, but she hadn’t even begun to be a big enough pain in Caldus’s ass to warrant that glare. Then, the Cathar’s chest expanded, nostrils flaring in a deliberate inhale.
Shab.
The curse had barely rolled through her mind before the realization landed. Cathar senses were legendary, which meant there was a real chance that Caldus could scent exactly where her thoughts had wandered.
Caldus clicked his teeth, eyes narrowed. Finally, Fynta understood.
The tension between them pulled taut, nothing but the hum of the yacht’s engines to fill the silence. She took a step closer, and Caldus rumbled another warning. Testing her limits was fun, but this felt different. She wasn’t just annoying him, she was provoking. That had never been the plan.
Raising her hands, Fynta steadied her voice to hide the pounding of her heart. “Listen, we need to get this sorted before we get to Nar Shaddaa.”
Caldus didn’t hesitate. “Sort what out?” Judging by the Cathar’s tone, he understood and was being an ass.
”This.” Fynta gestured between them, refusing to rise to the bait. “Whatever this animosity is.” Though, she supposed she couldn’t blame the man. Not if her suspicion was true and he could physically scent her moods. Fierfek, that was going to complicate things.
Fynta continued before Caldus could speak. “Otherwise, someone is going to get hurt. With our luck, it’ll be Altan.”
Caldus was off his bed in a heartbeat, and Fynta nearly flinched back. She caught herself at the last moment and forced a glare up at the Cathar. She’d faced deadlier men than him. He wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her unbalanced. Altan was a trigger though, that she filed away for later.
Chest heaving, Caldus straightened to full height, blade and foam block forgotten on his bed, the shavings he’d meticulously collected scattered across the floor. “I don’t trust humans,” he managed between gritted teeth. Fynta didn’t miss the symbolism of his discarded weapon either. He could kill her without one. She let that slide off her without acknowledgment.
”That’s probably fair,” Fynta agreed, lifting an eyebrow in challenge when he leaned into her personal space. Each interaction gave her more of his measure. Caldus used his size and species to intimidate, trying to crowd her out. It was a brute tactic mostly likely learned at the hands of brutes.
Fynta took a step closer, intentionally invading the Cathar’s space to show that she wouldn’t be so easily cowed. “Are you willing to risk Altan’s safety over it?” When Caldus tipped his head, their faces now inched apart, Fynta continued. “We are going up against a veritable myth, something I didn’t even know existed until ten minutes ago. You and I need to be in sync, trust each other to do the job we were hired for. If you can’t manage that alongside a human, then sell your portion of the contract and go home.”
Finally, Caldus relaxed his posture, straightening without relinquishing the gap between them. Those same fingers that held the foam so carefully now curled into tight fists at his sides. He took a shaky breath. “What do you suggest?”
Fynta wasn’t interested in a game of dominance, she just wanted to know if it all went to osik, he’d have her back. So, she took a step away, releasing the tension in her shoulders and legs so that her stance matched his. They entered an awkward stalemate of sorts. “Apart from being human, what am I doing to piss you off?”
That shabbing lip pulled back again, but the answer carried more honesty than Fynta expected. “The way you look at me, it reminds me of them.”
Fynta had no concrete evidence who them was, but given the pieces of conversation she’d managed to drag out of the surly bastard she assumed his owners; human owners. Another piece of the puzzle dropped into place and she didn’t like the picture it built. Because the way she looked at him had nothing to do with possession, but appreciation of an impressive physique.
“Shab.” The word slipped out, hot rage flooding Fynta’s system. Another growl started somewhere deep inside Caldus, but she spoke before he could interpret her outrage as pity. “Listen, I'm Mando'ade. I live shereshoy, and I have a type.”
The sound built, rolling up his chest. Caldus tensed his shoulders like he might throw a punch. “And what is that?”
”Strength,” Fynta answered simply, getting the word out before he escalated. She had no reason to be ashamed of her preferences. Male or female, Fynta had always been a sucker for anyone who could put her on her shebs in a fight. While she hadn’t tested it, Caldus fit that description.
When the Cathar raised both brows, Fynta forced a grin. “I like people who can go toe to toe with me. Shereshoy. Any day could be my last, so I’m going to live like it is.” When Caldus opened his mouth, Fynta held up a hand. “That said, I’ll do my best to rein in the flirting for you.”
The steady rumble stilled, but Caldus's eyes narrowed. Fynta took another step back and lifted her hands where he could see them, yielding this particular argument. “You are your own man, Caldus. I won’t let anyone take that from you.”
”Not even you,” Caldus spat, though Fynta thought his tone might have carried a little less malice.
With a smile that echoed none of the lecherous thoughts she’d entertained before, Fynta thrust her hand into the space between them. “Especially me. Be’mev, vod.”
Caldus snapped his mouth shut when the door opened to reveal Altan. He had his face buried in the datapad as he walked, oblivious to the tension between her and his brother. With a huff, Caldus gripped Fynta’s forearm in a truce, then flopped back onto his bed and collected the knife and block. She called it as much of a win as she was likely to get.
“How do you think it got out?” Altan asked as he wove through the piles of electronics he’d left behind.
Fynta picked up his line of thought as a sort of peace offering to Caldus. He clearly didn’t want to discuss whatever brewed between them, so Fynta shoved it to the side for when it became a problem again. “Did anyone else notice the lightning? That reeks of Sith.”
”But were they attacking it or helping it escape?” Caldus added. Now that he wasn’t snarling like a deranged akk hound, his timbre had settled back into that lovely combination of gritty calm. Fynta forced herself not to think about it.
Instead, she settled into her professional hunter persona and pretended to be a responsible adult. “We can’t rule either out, which means once we land, no one goes out without their armour.” The last line she aimed at Altan, who glanced up long enough to nod.
“I’ve been monitoring Nar Shaddaa’s local news network and there haven’t been any instances of monster sightings.” Altan returned his attention to the screen, folding himself back onto the floor. “You’d think a Dashade would stand out.”
“You’ll understand when we get there,” Fynta laughed and settled into one of the chairs with her duffle. There was a small folding table behind it, and she set about arranging her solvents to begin maintenance. Caldus had given her blasters a rushed cleaning at the range before they left Dromund Kaas, but Fynta wanted to make sure they were ready when she needed them. Knowing there was possibly a Sith involved changed the way they needed to approach this mission. “Have either of you fought a Sith?”
As Fynta settled into the familiar rhythm of dismantling her weapons, Caldus answered without looking up from his carving. From stolen glances, all Fynta could make out was that it was cylindrical. “Some religious nuts on Rishi are as close as we’ve seen. They usually keep to their part of the island though.”
“Shea had that run in with a couple last year,” Altan added. “Half the jungle was on fire before they went down. Luckily, it was monsoon season.”
Fynta smirked at the image Altan painted. Clan Vizla’s leader had a reputation for being fiery. From Altan’s recounting, it sounded earned. “Whatever you do,” Fynta continued as she lifted the barrel to peer down it for evidence of missed grime. “Don’t hesitate.”
