Chapter 55. Smuggler
From Part 9: Falling Stars
Galaxy Without End
A/N. Vette experienced Act 1 of the Smuggler line during the Warrior's Act 2/3 break, and is dealing with Act 2 after the Warrior's level 50 finale.
*
Vette went all out for her visit to the Dealer’s Den cantina on Coruscant. New heels, a new headband, a shimmering beige dress pouring like liquid over her chest and hips. She strolled into Darmas Pollaran’s private lounge with the secure knowledge that she looked fine.
Darmas looked up from his sabacc hand. His eyes went over her once and then several more times for good measure. Without looking away he drawled, “Ladies, gentlemen, another time, please.” There was grumbling, but people put down their hands and scooped up their chips. They paid Vette the tribute of somewhat jealous stares.
And Vette drifted closer. “Hello there.”
“I’m speechless, my dear.”
Right, like he ever was. “Liar.”
Darmas smirked. “I do find myself calculating what kind of praise gets me slapped. You look good enough to worship.” He gestured for her to sit at the booth that curved around half the sabacc table. “Tell me, what have you been up to?”
She sat, and smirked right back. “Gossip at my level is expensive, Mr. Pollaran. There’s something I bet you can help me with. I got an invitation to Port Nowhere. Ring any bells?”
Darmas shrugged. “Certainly. It’s the freest dreadnaught in the galaxy.”
“It was crawling with Rogun the Butcher’s thugs, and they wanted the bounty on my head for losing his shipment on Ord Mantell.”
For a second—just a second—as he processed her peril, his eyes were dangerous. “I take it they didn’t give you significant trouble,” he drawled, watching her with veiled concern. “Rogun’s thugs tend to prioritize quantity over quality.”
“Let’s just say the Wookiee got to work off some frustrations.”
Only then did he seem to relax. “Yes, your crew has expanded. I was happy to hear it. The life of a lone freelancer has its risks, no matter how romantic the image.”
“Can I ask why you weren’t at Port Nowhere? It would’ve evened the odds.”
“Ah, I didn’t know you would be there. And just at this moment I’m introducing you to someone. Someone who is not cleared to know Port Nowhere’s location.”
Someone new? The dress suddenly felt like a poor choice. “Okaaay, I’m curious.”
Darmas reached for a button in the back of the curving booth where he sat. “Please join us, Senator.”
“Senator?” Vette squeaked.
“Now, then, let’s make her comfortable. She has a proposal I think you’ll find interesting.”
From further in—not the direction of Darmas’s rented bedroom, Vette noted—came a starkly handsome woman in Coruscanti formal wear. Vette stood, not quite pushing out her chest while she nodded.
“Vette, Senator Dodonna. Senator, my good friend and very reliable pilot, Vette.”
“A Huttese handle? You’ve come a long way to get here.” Dodonna didn’t make that sound bad; if anything she seemed pleased. “I hope you’re finding Coruscant to your liking.”
“Well,” Vette said, “the company’s good.”
Dodonna shot an exasperated look at Darmas. “Yes, so I hear.” Darmas spread his hands and shrugged innocently. “Vette, the Republic is looking for independent contractors to aid the Mid Rim worlds against the Empire. You’re a superb pilot and you have a crew and a freighter. You could become an official Republic privateer, under the Republic’s legal protection, with the freedom of the skies.”
Legal protection that didn’t vanish when the Sith du jour did. Freedom of the skies. It was the first time she’d been promised that in a while. “Oh, is that all? You know, I’m used to my freedom of movement being granted by an up-and-coming Sith Lord.”
“Privateers have lower assassination rates,” Senator Dodonna said. “I’ll admit, I was intrigued when Darmas described your resume. The Republic can shield you anywhere in Republic space. Your reputation may grant you some protection against the Empire.”
“Assuming your split with the Emperor’s Wrath was neutral to amicable,” Darmas said idly.
“Yeah, well, she didn’t chase me out,” Vette breezed. Sort of. Well, only a little. Vette had to hurry past those feelings. “I like your offer. I have to run it by my crew.”
“We would expect no less,” Dodonna said. “In token of goodwill, I’d like to offer you a suite for your crew as long as you’re on Coruscant.” She looked to Darmas. “Please, contact me when we have an answer.”
“I’d be delighted to, Senator.” Darmas waved as if leaving the question to the ether. “Is there anything else?”
“I have business topside. Vette, a pleasure.” She walked out.
“A job and legal protections?” said Vette. “You just get better and better.”
“Let’s not talk business,” he drawled. “You’re not dressed for that occasion.”
Vette surprised herself by snickering. “How many girlfriends do you have right now?”
“None in line of sight. I’ve got a promising prospect, though.”
She scooted, not toward him in the booth, but away toward the empty space near the bar. “Hey, put on some music.”
His hand strayed over the console beside him. “What are you in the mood for?”
“Anything we can dance to. It’s what a gentleman would do.”
“We are talking about the same Darmas Pollaran, aren’t we?”
She laughed out loud. “Dance with me and you just might get lucky.”
He pressed a button. “I place myself in your hands.”
*
Vette met her crew in the hotel Dodonna had paid for.
With some mumbled words about checking the room out first (he knew better than to directly impersonate a security guard for Vette’s benefit), Corso walked in and stared at everything at once. “Sheesh…”
Risha strolled in and laughed. “Now this is a queen’s retreat.”
Bowdaar seemed tense. He stared at everything, too, without saying anything.
And Vette sauntered into a picture of luxury.
The carpet was pale and shaggy, the lounge in front of her decked out in burgundy and cream. Four cut-crystal chandeliers in varying sizes studded the ceilings. There was a glass bar in one corner. Alternating art and mirrors were framed around the room in gold and red. It was impossible to tell where the warm light came from. There was a broad window, which brought Vette to a view of skyscrapers and a distant eight-line speederway glinting below. There were four adjoining bedrooms, all equally decked out with mirrors and spotless carpet and beds mounded with shimmering covers. The fifth adjoining room had a hot tub with a refresher beyond.
“One of these beds is long enough for Bowdaar,” the Wookiee yelled.
“I could pay for a degree with one of these,” Corso reported while he hefted a bottle from the bar. “Possibly the college itself, too.”
Risha leaned over the windowsill and ran a fingertip down the seam of the glass and frame.
“Hm?” Vette said.
Risha grinned darkly. “Just seeing if this cage is gilded.”
“I like their offer.”
“Oh, so do I.” She shot a significant look at the nearest chandelier, which might have who knew what surveillance. “Let’s keep our eyes open.”
The recent exertion with Darmas had involved some literal eye-closing, and it worked out okay. “Yeah,” Vette said confidently. “We will.”
*
Somehow, someone was always watching. Kind of.
On the Light Red, they never hung out in Ruth's room. The yacht had four sumptuous suites, and Ruth's was off limits. Not even Mr. Sneaks went in there. Vette had no idea what secrets lurked there. Not men; she was stuck on Quinn.
Anyway, Vette had the biggest room, and it was here that the ladies of the crew gathered with snacks and a premiere view of the planet du jour.
The Imperial colony of Ziost had been that day.
Ruth was seated on the floor at the base of a cushy chair. “The Empire can't grow by eating its own tail. If the Light Side Sith organize, they can stop the hard liners. When I'm strong enough, I can stop the hard liners. Then we won't need weapons. We can make peace, proudly.”
Sometimes Ruth talked like she was younger than Vette and had seen very little of life, which was true. Vette pointed out, “Uhh, the Republic will want that with a white flag.”
“Make it a ceasefire rather than a surrender. They'll understand, in time. We could have an exchange program. I can tell the Jedi about the Sith Code and they can explain how they think, because I surely don't know. Our soldiers could stand guard together. We could prevent the next war by converting anyone who might lead it.”
She meant it. Well, she’d pulled off miracles before. “What's your next trick after the war doesn't happen? Want to try ending slavery?”
Ruth nodded decisively. “I think that'd be a fine use of integrated units. So, me and a lightly corrupted Jedi. We'd throw the Hutt economy into shambles. And tear down the Imperial 1% in favor of some real leaders.”
A heavy knock came on the door. The girls tensed. Ruth unfolded herself and rushed to the door to find Lieutenant Pierce.
“Milord,” he said, running his dark eyes over her and everything else. “Got tired of rations. There’s grilled sleen and noodles in the mess.”
“Thank you, Pierce. We’ll be right out.”
He nodded and withdrew.
Jaesa said it. “I don't think he'd go for integrated units.”
Vette nodded. “Ever think the men on this ship aren't on the same wavelength as the women?”
“I'll just show them,” Ruth insisted. “We'll show everyone. Pierce will stay enthusiastic as long as there’s a challenge somewhere, and personal security plus occasional cook to a Sith will always offer that.” Ruth wound her arms around her knees and blushed. “And I talk to the captain. Between things. He always wants to hear about how Sith are going to be leading the charge, but…I think he understands that we’re stronger together.”
“You, him, and the rulebook,” Vette said. Jaesa stifled a giggle. “C’mon, let’s not give Pierce any more eavesdropping material.”
Jaesa stiffened. “He didn’t really…?”
Vette grinned. “Chow down.”
Yeah…maybe the strange part was that it had lasted as long as it had.
*
The planet was Balmorra, which Corso had never been to. Vette described the war-torn ruin and origin of her least favorite Imperial officer in vivid terms as the shuttle descended. The setting was Bugtown, which was apparently named after some native wildlife that had since been pushed outside the town limits. The mission was a Nebula project, an Imperial weapons cocktail meant for immediate delivery.
Vette frowned at the colorful diagram of explosions. “They don’t even control a spaceport anymore. They can't have enough to ruin the planet. More.”
Their contact, Numen Brock, cracked a grin at her as if the rest of the crew didn’t exist. “They don't have to. The Jedi, the Hero of Tython, is on planet. Without a security retinue. If she's still here in forty-eight hours, boom.”
Vette sighed. “Celebrities, am I right? Just tell me where to go, and watch me work.”
“With pleasure.” Corso twitched. Vette looked pleased. Hadn’t she been sneaking off with Darmas Pollaran exactly one hyperspace jump ago? She was just about the prettiest spacer he had ever met, but that didn’t mean she had to act like it.
Communication with the Imperial mole currently feeding the Republic every detail of the Imperial withdrawal—and poison pill—was as cagey as if the war were still on. Corso didn’t mind that they separated from Brock, and didn’t terribly mind that an Imperial team had kidnapped him to the one cave they had left in the area.
But Vette rushed to help him out.
There, south of Sobrik, in a network of winding caves, Imperial guards came in pairs. A tall woman in full armor made it into the maze of cells first. She and Vette conked out two guards in unison, just a few paces from one another.
“Stay out of my way,” said the armored woman.
“See any Twi’leks this way?” said Vette.
“No.” The woman turned to one of a scattering of forcefield cells. “You. Why are you in this cell?”
“I was…captured…?” said a concerned-looking prisoner.
“You weren’t supposed to be here.”
“The last guy got executed. Just an hour or two ago.”
The woman shucked off her oversized helmet to show a red Zabrak face with full horns. She smoldered. “The last of my clan…by just an hour. You.” She didn’t turn toward Vette, but the shift was obvious. “If you oppose the Empire, we may speak. But first, get anything you care about out of here within five minutes.”
“Yes’m,” Vette said, looking nervous. “Okay, guys, Brock will know how to use these neutralizers to get the other Imperial prisoners free. We just have to find him. Scatter.”
Corso picked a branch and moved. There were more forcefield cells scattered all around, some with guards, which Torchy took care of, and most populated, which he couldn’t help before he got Brock.
Speaking of which. He rounded a corner into a high cavern with three cells, and Numen Brock in one of them.
“You! Corso! I don’t suppose you got the disruptor?”
“Vette has it. Two shakes, I’ll be back.”
It occurred to him, much later, that he could have just accidentally not seen Brock down there. Well, he could’ve been petty, but that would be wrong.
The team, and Brock, and two dozen miserable-looking prisoners, got out of the cave and passed the armored Zabrak. The armored Zabrak looked Vette in the eye and pressed a detonator.
And boy, nothing beneath would’ve survived that explosion.
“I want Moff Tyrak,” she said shortly.
“No idea who that is,” Vette said.
“Then I continue.” She put her helmet on and stalked out toward the impromptu speeder lot. Numen got the prisoners in line and piled onto speeders to get to safety.
“Vette?” said Corso. “Did you see a lot of Mandalorians the last time you were here?”
“One in Sobrik. Tall one, might’ve been the same person, I don’t remember. Any place at the edge of the Empire’s authority will drive prices up, and Balmorra was definitely an edge case. Though…if our red friend keeps going, there might not be even a toehold for the Empire.”
“I’m crushed,” Risha deadpanned. “Just heartbroken.”
Which was usually enough to get Bowdaar to start trying to focus the group. “They might still get their weapons to the surface. One raid on Bugtown will kill the Hero of Tython.”
“Not if we go sell the goods elsewhere,” said Risha.
“Do we have to sell them?” said Corso. “I mean, if they might end up in the Empire’s hands?”
“Weapons aren’t dangerous,” said Vette, “people are dangerous. That said, of course it’s going back to the Republic. I am a privateer, y’know.”
“You’re cute when you’re loyal,” said Risha. “I will let you know the market price versus what Dodonna is giving us.”
“You got a calculator for these things?” Corso said dryly.
“Honed with long years toward perfection,” Risha said breezily. “Come on, let’s go.”
*
The Mandalorian woman wanted the Imperial informant who had cracked Project Nebula. The Imperial informant was a blithering moron, so Vette didn’t feel too bad handing him to Akaavi.
But when it was done, and Vette had forwarded the Project Nebula carriers to the Republic, Akaavi just stood there. Looking.
“Hey,” said Vette. “You all right?”
Akaavi took off her helmet and said, “Do you need another gun?”
“Well, apparently I do, but…don’t you want to know about the ship and what we do?”
“I see that you fight, and that you oppose the Empire. I believe my interests coincide with yours, for now.”
“We have to share a refresher,” Risha said. “In the interest of full disclosure.”
“I am Mandalorian,” she said. “We have larger crews than this.”
“Yeah,” said Corso, “but are they as hairy?”
Bowdaar grumbled.
Akaavi didn’t move anything but her eyes. “I am not afraid of hair.”
And just like that, Akaavi lived with them.
*
“I’m stopping by Bugtown,” said Vette. “Gotta give Numen the good news.”
“With tongue?” Risha said innocently.
“Tongues are required for talking. Obviously.” Vette grinned. “Don’t wait up for me.”
“Bowdaar will keep the engines ready,” Bowdaar deadpanned. “In case he takes the news the wrong way.”
“Somehow,” Corso said, “they never do.”
*
“Well, look what the nexu dragged in.”
Vette had responded to a distress call from some tarball of a planet called Quesh. The ground was poisonous. The air was poisonous. The random spacer was in trouble. And Beryl Thorne walked off his trapped ship.
Risha took Beryl’s barb with a grin. “And I’m supposed to believe we’re not all in imminent danger due to something you did?”
Beryl threw up her hands. “The Imp planet screen wasn’t me! They’re shooting down anything that takes off, we were just unlucky enough to be around when it started.”
“Yeah,” Risha drawled, “but wasn’t it a little bit you?”
“No! Vette, tell her I wouldn’t attract an Imperial weapons program to a perfectly good smuggler’s bolthole.”
Vette gave this due consideration. “I think your droid’s the only informed character witness.”
“I left the droid on Taris. I did leave in a hurry. Oh—this is Captain Ozzik. He will also vouch for me.”
The cute spacer looked around with a grin. “I’m a little afraid to, looking at these two.”
“Oh, thanks.”
Captain Ozzik cleared his throat. “Speaking of which, Beryl, we’re already late. Vette, I can get you the location of the Imperial sensor station, but we’re pretty much pinned here.”
“Scenic walk in the corrosion field, got it.” Vette grinned. “Back in a flash.”
She remembered Quesh from Ruth’s brief visit. The place was entirely lung damage and lies. So she was surprised to lead her crew into an orderly, well-lit bunker with well-labeled systems and staff who, after four expert shots took out the sentries, clearly were not accustomed to weapons of any kind. This was a product demo with technicians, not a production-scale military capability with soldiers. What a great thing to disrupt before it laid out an assembly line.
“Corso, tie ‘em up, I need at least an hour’s worth of knots. Bowdaar, start over there. Risha, with me. Let’s wreck every eye they have on this planet.”
They did. Then they stole speeders to return to Ozzik’s little nook. At least it was high up in a hill, clear of the main miasma.
“What did I tell you?” Beryl said as she strolled off the ship beside its captain. “Vette gets it done, and no paperwork in sight.”
“A lot more people than me are grateful,” Ozzik said. “But it’s time for us to haul jets.”
“What?” Vette said. “I was going to invite you for drinks. For old times’ sake.”
“Love to,” said Beryl, “but we’ve been delayed here long enough.”
“Wait. Wait.” Vette started patting her jacket, trying to remember how she had filed things in its delirious array of pockets. In time she pulled out a sleek aurodium flask. “Here, if I can’t bring you to drinks. One for smugglers’ luck.” She undid the cap and sipped, then handed it around.
“That was not cheap hooch,” Ozzik observed before licking his lips.
“Got it from a very nice hotel. If I can’t toast people with something really tasty, what’s the point?” Beryl and Risha each took a sip and nodded. “All right, get going. It’s a big galaxy, but we always seem to end up in the same messes.”
“That we do,” Risha said. “Good luck.”
*
Lenn Terall looked absolutely ecstatic.
“Lovely Vette.” The Alderaanian nobleman was looking well-fed and luminous. Apparently House Terall’s fortunes had held after Vette bailed them out. “What a pleasant surprise it is to hear from you. Did you ever find your planet?”
The perfect one for her to retire to? “Not yet, but my ship’s in great shape.”
“A romantic lifestyle. Did you backtrack for me?”
“I dunno, are you free tonight?” She had come all the way to the planet to ask. Or visit Jaesa’s parents, back in their ancestral home. But partly to ask.
“For you I’ll clear my schedule. Please, let me make the arrangements.”
Alderaan was a series of snapshots for Vette. Jaesa’s parents’ modest but colorful house, after Ruth had gotten them out of Imperial space. Once, a long time before that, helping Wynston with his Killik problem, meeting Vector, hauling Ruth to a kolto tank. Spending days in House Thul waiting for Ruth to regenerate, playing dejarik against Wynston and finding him good. Then, more recently, helping House Terall with old family secrets and one really nice date. Ruth had been a distant, friendly presence then, popular with her Sith masters, content. Yes, sleeping with Lenn Terall had been a highlight of a happy period in Vette’s life.
And when Vette re-used her sparkling dress, she felt right again. The booty call went off flawlessly.
She did like tall Humans. Tucked into Lenn’s arms, his heated skin pressing her…she was surrounded and pleased with it. Stars, it would be a long time before the novelty faded enough for monogamy.
“My exquisite. I can’t believe you’re really here.”
“Oh. Ghost sensations?” She trailed a fingertip down his chest. “Just, completely inexplicable.”
“Better than dreaming. Are you going to run out again?”
“If you knew how paranoid I have to be about my ship…” Vette sighed. “I had probably better. You? Happy?”
“Stricken by a bolt from the heavens. Stunned, but quite grateful.” Lenn brought up a hand and trailed two fingertips down one lek. “That ship is all you have until you’ve found your planet. I understand. If you want my personal guard to watch it…”
She shivered pleasantly. “No, no. Let me go. The Republic is due to give me my next assignment and I should be wearing clothes for that.”
“Remember me.” For a second his airy negligence went away.
“Lenn. I crossed half the galaxy for you.” An exaggeration, but if you added up the short jumps… “You’d have to knock me on the head pret-ty hard to push that out.”
She could keep his smile in her pocket and take it out when in need of a pick-me-up.
She slid into her dress and hooked her fingers into her strappy heels for carrying. Then she left the sumptuous bedroom and started down the golden hall. A strap slipped and she reached to pull it up.
Just then a woman rounded the corner ahead. She was dressed in a plunging neckline and not much else, and she looked at Vette as if sending blaster bolts.
“Who is this?” she said loudly.
Lenn was at Vette’s side, belting a robe. “Niall! This is, this is nobody. She’s an old friend. Friend of the family.”
“You liar,” said Vette, though she couldn’t be surprised. “Wife? Mother? No offense.”
The woman’s mouth opened. “Our association is less formal,” Lenn babbled. “I can explain. Vette here was just trying on a dress for a hot date, and she wanted me to help. You know, give the masculine perspective.” He gulped. “Don’t hurt me.”
The woman’s eye blasters returned to Vette. “He’s a snake with three rumored fiancées and I didn’t have proof until you finished dressing just now.”
Lenne waved anxiously. “My exquisite, you—”
The woman stalked to an alcove that held a very fancy vase, too fancy to actually have flowers in it. She grasped it and hurled it at Lenn’s head.
“Hey!” Vette squeaked. “I stole that fair and square!”
“Shut up,” the woman grated.
Lenn had dodged. The vase had shattered in the corner. Now he looked helpless and the woman looked homicidal. “Well,” Vette said, “I’ll just leave you two to get less acquainted.”
It was easier to run with her shoes in her hands.
*
Days later…
Vette and her crew piled into a little bubble of a speeder, which was humming wildly in its efforts to heat the cabin and move at the same time.
“Bowdaar?”
“Yes?”
“Is this cold?”
“Yes.”
“Just checking.” If the furry guy hated it, it must be bad.
They were on Hoth, trying to get some cloaking tech from the White Maw pirates. It was ninety degrees below anything sane or normal and Risha and Corso had come up with seventeen and eleven reasons, respectively, why they shouldn’t go down to the surface.
Well, they were here now. Vette had once spent a week chasing down a Darth’s wounded pride on this iceball, and damned if everyone else wasn’t going to share in the experience.
Vette started the controls down a wide, wide plain of white. Above, the tiny white sun was clearly at its peak for the day, and was not going to contribute anymore to the warmth of the situation. Small-time con man Languss Tuno said he could get her to the White Maw’s cloaking device, and so far he’d been the only Hoth sentient outside Aurek Base not to open fire on sight, so by process of elimination he was their best local contact.
On his counsel, and with very little small talk, they entered the wreck of the Star of Coruscant, which was longer in diameter than Vette’s home planet, she was pretty sure.
But with the pirates bluffed out of the way, Vette found out why Guss had referred to the cloaker as “he.”
“He has just enough Force power to hide when he’s scared.” Alilia, attachée to the White Maw until about thirty seconds ago, stared defiantly at Vette over the bulk of a cringing Kitonak. “So they torture him, and he keeps their ships cloaked.”
“That’s horrible,” said Vette. “The Sith would pay top dollar for someone to hurt like that. Not a good direction to go in, I’m just spitballing. I know some Sith who would be nice to him, but they don’t have a safe place to live right now.” Jaesa was still meeting Light Side Sith in secret, and she didn’t have a permanent place to do it. Trick could be deeply useful for her, but Jaesa would never take someone in for the sake of being useful. “I don’t know a lot about the Jedi, but I’m guessing they can help…heal him? They would give him a safe place. I hope. I mean, I don’t see a Jedi picking on a helpless person for a cool military trick.” She had heard a lot of things about Jedi hypocrisy while traveling the Empire, but not all of them could possibly be true.
And nothing else would help Trick right now.
Alilia didn’t seem comforted. “What are you going to tell the soldiers who sent you here?”
“That a Force user who could do it got injured and can’t choose to activate it anymore. That’s all they’re getting out of me.”
The red Twi’lek—and Vette knew that red Twi’lek were even more popular slaves than blues—studied her face and said, “Thank you.”
It seemed wrong to leave it to somebody else. Not like Vette could help, but she couldn’t leave it at this. “Do you think I could hug him?”
Alilia leaned toward the boy’s bloated face. “Can our friend Vette hug you?”
Trick’s hands twitched. He stood and half held out his arms. He was tall and he looked strong and he barely had any mind left. Vette stepped in and wrapped her arms around his trunk.
He wrapped his arms around her and gently cradled her, bowing his face to her lekku. There was no sense of force, no sense of threat. She squeezed and let him go. “You be good,” she blurted.
Alilia was there. “May I?” she said. “I truly never expected to find kindness on this rock.”
Vette was careful with Alilia’s lekku when they folded together. “Don’t let those Jedi do anything you wouldn’t do,” she advised. “They talk a good game, but they tend to break down under basic logic.” Then she raised her voice for the benefit of the Republic officer. “Captain, I’ll take care of the report. Thank you for looking after my friends here while I settled things.”
Everybody’s eyes turned toward Guss Tuno.
“Oh,” the Mon Calamari said. “Wow. I’ve never seen anybody do something that nice before. When you could have a cloaking device at will?”
“I have a kid who needs help,” Vette said. “I’m sure you’ve seen people being nice to that.”
“Hmm. Nope. Not really.” He raised a hand to his mouth and bit worriedly at one fingertip. “You do things differently here. It’s just…you’ve saved my life a lot. Most people don’t do that, either.”
“Captain?” Corso prodded. “We’ve never taken someone on out of pity. Apart from Trick, but he isn’t really qualified to look out for himself. Guss is.”
“Arguably,” said Risha.
Akaavi took more interest in their surroundings than in the Mon Calamari, which went to show how big a threat she thought he was. “He will slow us down.”
Guss’s eyes somehow got bigger. “Slow you down? They call me the Air Traffic Control Whisperer in some sectors. And I know a lot of hidden places between here and where we’re going.” He swallowed. “Where are we going?”
“Aw,” said Vette. He was good at thinking on his feet. And it was obvious that every criminal on this iceball had given up on him. If Vette were way more hapless than she was, and hadn’t run into someone who could get her off Korriban and protect her while she found herself, would she be conning small potatoes and hiding in wampa caverns for a living? “C’mon, we’ll find out where we’re going.”
They dropped Alilia and Trick with tickets to a Jedi hospital on Coruscant, then checked at Port Nowhere.
*
“Piracy,” Vette decided brightly, rolling her shoulders and wriggling her fingertips to get all the rush out.
The crew looked up from the cantina booth. “Wait, wait, I know this one,” Guss said. “The partner Dodonna assigned is even higher on Rogun’s list than you are.”
“That’s possible?” Vette said. “That’s a relief.”
*
After the piracy, it came down to Ilum. And, after several runs of arms through contested skies, and the discovery that Guss was prone to violent motion sickness, she decided to land at the Republic base. That’s when it got complicated.
*
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