The Weight of Beskar - Ch 10: Spite
Summary: Solish survives on Spite and Audacity Chapter Word Count: 1,585 Chapter Rating: T Ao3 Link
The stench of ozone burned Solish’s nose. She dodged beneath a knife blade and slammed her claws into the spot under the mercenary's arm where his armour was weak. Warmth coated her hand when she ripped it free.
Khem’s growl rumbled to the left, followed by the pop of dislocating bones. Her ears twitched, tracking the sound through the smoke they’d filled the room with. Then, she turned away.
Pain slashed through Solish’s ribs and back. High-voltage blue surrounded her like a cage. The scent of singed fur, followed by the long forgotten animal panic of prey caught in a trap.
Solish jolted awake and hissed at the too real pain in her back and side. She lay there on that woefully thin cot and stared at a ceiling dotted by stains she shouldn’t dwell on. It was as if life had come full circle in some sick, cosmic joke. She had been a slave, sleeping in huts much like this while her master gorged on lavish dinner parties so many years ago.
For a short time, Solish had been Sith. Still an apprentice, yes, but apprentice to one of the strongest Dark Council members of their time. She’d been more than the alien, she’d been indomitable. Then, it all changed.
Pushing upright, Solish ignored the way her bandages stuck to her fur and let the dream fade into obscurity. Khem wasn't her bonded, but Darth Nox’s choice to restore Zash had been unacceptable. Solish hadn’t expected the old witch to adapt to the Dashade’s claws and strength so quickly.
Solish forced her first deep breath of the day, gagging on the cloying stench of refuse and old cooking oil that lingered around her hostel. She should be sleeping on silk sheets and being served breakfast in bed, but Nox would likely look there first. Nar Shaddaa was big, but not so large that her master couldn’t find her if she stuck her head out of hiding for too long.
Former master, Solish reminded herself. Solish could forgive an attempt on her life for overstepping her authority. It was the way of the Sith. Any apprentice who survived their master deserved the title of Lord. But dragging Him into it when Nox couldn’t track Solish’s escape was the infuriating part. The Cathar bared her teeth at the memory of Nox’s taunting message showing Kirin’s brutalized face. That, Darth Nox would pay for. Kirin was hers. Only she got to kill the little weasel.
Swinging her feet over the bed tugged at the ragged edges that Khem’s—Zash’s—claws had left through Solish’s middle. She peeled the bandage back and grimaced. If she couldn’t get this infection under control, Kirin’s fate wouldn’t be her problem anymore.
The light flickered when Solish reached out with the Force to flip it on, then popped, throwing the room back into the eerie neon lighting she’d woken to. Solish had been here three weeks and her head still ached any time she ventured outside. Today would be another exercise in patience, since mass murder would likely blow her cover.
With a huff, Solish electrified the trash can, igniting its contents and providing enough low light for her to reach the fresher. The mirror showed a haggard creature with pale skin barely recovered from the burns that mottled it weeks ago. Lines of naked flesh where her master’s lightning had scorched fur traced down the side of her face and throat. Solish hissed at the reflection and groped for the clean bandages on the back of the toilet.
The smell hit her first. It was more putrid than the reek that filtered through her window. Solish would need to see a proper healer, or at least someone who claimed to be one and worked for cheap. No doubt Nox would be monitoring the medcenters.
As Solish peeled away the sodden gauze, her stomach rumbled louder than the shouting in the lower alley. She’d need to steal something simple to tide her over until the infection was taken care of. Bland proteins and soups. That thought managed to quell her hunger almost as much as the oozing mess across her abdomen.
Tugging her shirt down, Solish eased into a black jacket made of fake animal skin and called her lightsaber to her. She shouldn’t carry it, it marked her for what she was. She also refused to be caught without it. On her thigh, Solish bent gingerly to wrap the holster for her holdout blaster. It made her look more authentic to the crowd.
Pulling on her boots incited all manner of swears that never left her lips, but finally, she was ready. Solish looked at the cot, exhausted from the effort of getting dressed, and considered climbing back into it. Maybe one more day of rest would be the turning point. She blew a disbelieving breath between her lips and turned for the door.
With her accounts likely monitored, Solish had been forced to rely on unmarked chits and petty theft. An old trick that Kirin had taught her. One she’d scoffed at and would never hear the end of now that it was keeping her alive.
Solish stole what she could and grudgingly handed over her quickly dwindling funds for the rest. One such item was a biometric lock that would fry the insides of anyone unauthorized that tried to enter her room. She’d convinced the landlord that she’d paid extra for privacy, so the four bunk room should theoretically remain hers. However, this was Nar Shaddaa.
Pulling the hood over her head, Solish stepped into the now crowded streets of the Red Light district. She’d heard for years that it was the place to go if you wanted to get lost. So far, the venue had been everything she expected. Refuse lined the streets, drunkards slept in alleys, and hawkers plied unreasonable claims. It was every badly written holo of a sleazy city that Solish had ever seen.
Now that Solish was mobile, her pain tolerance decreased drastically. Each step pounded through her body and landed in her skull. All thoughts of food fled in the wake of stomach roiling wrongness.
With her body under so much strain, Solish’s senses worked overtime. She tracked every movement, catalogued every scent, and the Force reached out to explore the minds around her without intention. By the time Solish made it two blocks, she was panting and clutching her side while trying to shut out the onslaught of stimuli.
Bracing a hand against the wall, Solish staggered into the store she’d visited so many times before. That Duros who owned it was an idiot, his mind malleable under the slightest touch. He gave her what she wanted then forgot at her behest. Today, however, Solish could barely get her own thoughts in order, much less influence his.
“You okay, darlin’?” His large, red eyes blinked, elongated head tilted slightly to one side.
Solish flashed her teeth, then forced herself to her full height. It barely matched his, but that didn’t matter to her pride. She opened her mouth to demand the information she required, then hissed in frustration. Lifting her hands, Solish used Smuggler’s Sign, or at least, her butchered version of it. “Need medical assistance.”
“The medcent—” at Solish’s abrupt headshake, the Duros paused. “Medkits’ the best I have. Aisle 7.”
Solish didn’t bother thanking the man. She stalked down the row of mostly bare shelves to find exactly two off-brand medkits. The label on the back offered gauze, bacta cream, and a single emergency vial of kolto. It was better than what she had now, so Solish grabbed them both and stormed over to the self heating single serve meals. She only took four of those. Her arms and legs already felt heavy from the excursion and each gram added more strain.
Returning to the counter, Solish dropped the items on the counter, then waited for the Duros to look up from his datapad. “Where can I find more?” She tapped the medkit and glared.
“Four blocks away at Reggie’s be my guess.” The Duros rang up the items, then turned the screen for Solish to pay.
Solish pressed her will against his mind, skin electrifying with the effort of something that should be simple. “You have my payment. Good day.” By the time she’d made the hand gestures and collected her bag, Solish’s arms were shaking. It was harder to persuade someone without the use of her voice, but Solish prided herself on her control of the Force.
The Duros blinked rapidly, his mind fighting off her sluggish command. Solish took advantage of his confusion and walked out the door. He didn’t call after her, so she assumed it had finally taken. She’d need to check out Reggie’s next—tomorrow, maybe. Her spine sagged the moment she was in the street, unable to keep her proud posture any longer.
As Solish made her way back to her miserable hideout, a bounty board flashed to her right. Solish paused, momentarily dazzled by the unexpected intrusion of such bright colors. Until the warning it displayed sank in.
GREAT HUNT RUMORS PROVEN TRUE. MANDALORIAN DEATH GAMES PROCEED AFTER 10 YEAR HIATUS.
Beneath it, in smaller letters was a list of names for local mercenaries and bounty hunters seeking bounties of their own, even signups for local Minor Hunts. Solish’s name wasn’t on the list, but it reminded her that she was still very much hunted. Tucking her head, Solish hurried back to her flimsy sanctuary.