𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐍 ➳「𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫」

𝐎𝐍𝐄. a change in plans.

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↤ " it's for the empire, isn't it? " ↦
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COINS CLATTERED OUT of Laridess's hands, spilling onto the bartop. Gaen raised an eyebrow at her as he examined the collection of currencies. Planet's money had been so richly varied before the Empire—or so Laridess was told. Despite the standardization of Republic credits, planets had been allowed to mint their own money if they so wished. Until, of course, the Galactic Empire. 

Foreign currency was contraband and true diversity hadn't been seen in years. Imperial credits ruled the economy. She set a small black box in front of him that projected a hologram of a dead body. It was splayed inelegantly on a dune of sand, a vibroblade neatly puncturing the left eye.

The actual body itself was, at the moment Laridess stopped to speak with Gaen, tightly wrapped in several layers of watertight fabric and stored in a freezer. It had traversed several days of hot and sandy weather (i.e., it smelled like shit) and thus needed to be kept away from anyone's noses.

"Nicely done."

"I had to kill seventeen men for it," she said flatly. She didn't bother to blow away the strands of hair that had fallen across her eyes. Gaen was immaculately put together. Despite sweltering heat and sticky humidity, his clothes were clean of sweat and the only sign of use was a collection of sand along the hem of one pant leg. His hair was combed, for Force's sake.

"I doubt that bothers you much, given the particulars of the acquisition itself."

"I won't lose any sleep over it but I don't enjoy unnecessary death, Gaen. The information you gave me was inaccurate."

He ran a cloth inside and around a glass, eyebrow still raised. Laridess leaned her elbows on the smooth sandstone of the bartop. She could not allow herself to waver. He needed to hear this and she needed to gauge his reaction.

"I was told to expect ten men. I found twenty. Hardly an amount to care about, but it does indicate a larger issue."

"There's a spy," said Gaen, picking up another glass to clean. 

"Yes. But that isn't my problem. I just thought I should let you know."

"I'll take care of it. I picked up a new assignment, by the way." She frowned. Gaen had spent the past six months putting their house back together after Master San-Vi's death. Technically, he wasn't an active bounty hunter any more. If he was taking on a bounty himself― "I won't be back for a while. I'm leaving House Mahdi-Vi in your hands."

"You trust me?"

"No," he said promptly. Laridess shrugged. "But I do trust your survival instinct. And you adhere shockingly well to the Code." 

"You should be prepping instead of cleaning glasses if you're taking on a bounty." He mimicked her one-shoulder shrug, twirling a bottle of liquor in his fingers before he poured a thin stream of the amethyst liquid. "Is it a Jedi?" 

"The Jedi are extinct, Lar." 

I hope not. The last of them had vanished, stars winking out all over the galaxy as they wrapped themselves in darkness, hiding behind even the flimsiest of cloaks, but she hoped they were not dead. Vanquished, as the Empire was so determined to make them. 

"It's for the Empire, isn't it?" 

"Who else?" 

Two days later, Laridess was sitting in Gaen's office, satisfied with the lack of people coming in to ask her ridiculous questions. Most of the house's hunters were far away, contentedly concerned with difficult jobs. Her skill for finding ways to be alone in a guild of notoriously nosy secret-seekers was one she was profoundly proud of.