Freelancers

Second Chances

A slender figure walked towards the holocommunicator at the center of her ship's interior, and laid her small hands across the control panel. The black, formfitting bodysuit she wore had been frayed along the side from her last encounter with the Cipher Agent Nai'riss. She winced in pain, nearly doubling over, as she peeled away a flap of fabric to administer a healing shot of kolto to the pool of blood beneath her bruised skin. She grimaced as the warm liquid entered her bloodstream to repair the broken vessels.

I hate kolto.

She pinched the syringe between her lips as she stretched tall, gathering her brunette strands of hair into a loose ponytail that ended at her shoulders. She looked down at the side of her stomach that was formerly black and blue; the kolto working tirelessly as her skin now appeared a light yellow. She spit the used syringe out and it rattled loudly against the black, metallic floor.

The warrior's ship bore the trademarks of a woman obsessed with combat; training dummies and weapons were mounted to the wall. Her ship, too, was dressed like a warrior. Its jet black and gray interior, offset by splashes of red was intimidating. The only other color present was the glow flooding her viewports from the various nebulae floating in deep space. The holocommunicator's blue light started to blink. She depressed a button on her communicator, and the projector sizzled to life.

"Lady Saiphyrr," said the man, in an overt Imperial accent that bordered the absurd. His blue hologram fading in and out, garbled by the many lightyears that separated her location from his.

He continued, "We've found them. We intercepted a transmission matching the Cipher agent's encryption. They're bound for Coruscant. The agent believes she found a buyer for the Dathari relic but our embedded agent will be there in his stead."

Saiphyrr nodded and winced in pain, "Good. People will do anything, given the right price is paid. See that Tonn is rewarded for his cooperation."

The man nodded in agreement, "Yes, my Lady." His blue visage disappeared as quickly as it had come, and Saiphyrr was once again left alone.

A second chance.

Saiphyrr hobbled to the nearest viewport to stare at a spinning nebula. Its blue and green glow framed the feminine features of her face, but failed to soften her permanent scowl. She gripped her injured side with her free arm, and turned quickly to return to her private quarters to rest. She will need to be at full strength the next time she and Nai'riss cross paths. For this time, she won't be the one licking her wounds.

--

"I knew I'd find you here," said Jag, as he entered the ship's dimly lit cockpit. White lines flooded the viewport as the ship hurtled through hyperspace. The orange and green lights from the surrounding consoles blinked occasionally to give a status report. The musty, circulated air had a slight tinge of lubricant to it. The rest of the ship barely faring better than the battered cargo bay.

He remarked, "It sure is pretty."

He glanced down at Veriss, who shot him an annoyed look. He smiled.

"Space, I mean. This ship is a piece of junk," he said, as he rapped his knuckles against a wall console.

"Smells like it too. We're due for an upgrade once we sell these relics." He leaned forward and rested his elbow along the seat back.

Veriss nodded in agreement from her position in the pilot's seat. She leaned back and closed her eyes. The glowing console lights softly illuminated her tanned, olive colored skin. She rocked her head side to side and let out a long, exasperated sigh.

"Don't you think we're putting a great deal of faith in this agent?" she said, eyes now open and fixated on the gray ceiling. "What if she's not telling the truth? What if she'll betray us, and steal our half of the relic? What if - "

Jag waved his hand and cut her off mid sentence. She quickly sat up to protest, but settled back to let him continue.

"Lenna used to distrust everyone too, remember? All throughout her bajur, she had defied her instructors and made enemies of her comrades. That fiery spirit was what drew me to her in the first place," said Jag, smiling.

"But eventually, war necessitates trust. Trust in your brothers and sisters," he said as he stared out beyond the viewport. "Remember her saying?"

"Aliit ori'shya tal'din. Family is more than blood," sighed Veriss.

Jag nodded in approval.

"Mom was really fond of those old Mando sayings. I hardly think what we're doing is akin to war though," mused Veriss, as she let the thought trail off. She smiled and cocked her head to the side, eager to hear the elder hunter's retort.

Jag laughed, "What do I know, I'm an old man attempting to cheer his daughter up. Anyway, relics' authenticity aside, we need Nai'riss just as much as she needs us." He straightened up and stood tall, his head nearly hitting the low cockpit ceiling. "With that Sith on our heels we'd have a better chance at a payday by staying together."

Veriss stood up from the pilot's seat and tugged the wrinkles out of her loose, gray jumpsuit. She walked behind the seat to stand next to her adopted father.

"Do you really believe her? Do you really think she can be alitt?" asked Veriss.

Jag sighed and raked his fingers through his short, graying hair. He smiled.

"Family? Time will tell."

Veriss flashed a half smile and walked past Jag to head downstairs to the living quarters. He looked after his daughter until she was out of view, and gingerly sat down in the pilot's seat. He smoothed his jumpsuit and entered the next set of coordinates into the navicomputer.

"Next stop, Coruscant," he said to himself.

He looked out of the viewport once again to admire the clean, white lines of the stars in hyperspace. With arms folded across his chest, he raised his legs onto the center console to relax. The low hum of the ship was his favorite lullaby.

It never gets old.

He closed his eyes to enjoy the next few moments of his singing ship before he succumbed to a well-deserved rest.