As if knowing her nerves were on edge, Maroo's Swallow played her a calming song of beeps and hums.
Xarra and Mor, who was being distracted by a pile of junk Maroo had lying around, left her alone in the cockpit. Her legs rested on the dash, arms folded behind her head. Small brown asteroids danced amidst each other, like Razorflies bogged by tar. She'd triple checked the coordinates—knowing it made perfect sense to be here of all places—but anxious none the less. Maroo managed to hide her ship in a deep crater of a larger asteroid, though it meant she wouldn't get a visual when the Queens arrived. She eyed her radar. Eyed it again. And again.
Her jaw hadn't unclenched since their miracle at Vey Hek's compound. No matter how forcefully she tried to think of other things, it always came back to figuring out how they could have stolen the Orokin Blood. It was right there... she thought for the fiftieth time.
Maroo had come up with at least ten possibilities.
We could've gone loud, we could have just waited until Hek left and carried the Blood to the elevator, we could have— Dammit, stop!
Her thoughts sidestepped her efforts. There were no explosives on them. Mor could have found any trackers on the ship and disabled it. Even if there was a tracker—and even if it was too complex for Mor to crack, we could have moved the Blood to a different container and left the original behind.
Maroo slammed her fist into a metal panel, earning an extra loud beep as reprimand from her ship.
She had been scared. That was all there was to it. With a sigh that left a bitter taste in her mouth, she stood to walk around. They were early anyway.
The Swallow had been her companion for as long as she'd been in the business: it'd been so full that it had trouble flying, been so empty she could hear a shell drop on the other side, and everything in between.
Her footsteps echoed for far longer than she'd liked, hammering a reminder into her skull.
You almost have nothing. That Ten Thousand Platinum could save you... but you better not mess up.
Xarra stood in one empty room, looking out a tiny window, arms crossed.
"Do you seriously have to look angsty when no one's around?" Maroo asked, stepping inside.
The Tenno didn't budge. "I'm thinking."
"Oh? about what?"
"Last mission."
"Look, if you learned your lesson, then stop—"
"I'm sorry."
"Tin suit, how many times do I have to tell you, I don't need your apology."
"Would you shut it and listen." Xarra shook his head. "I nearly failed, twice. I was sick of living in this nasty, vile place. I hated stealing, killing, for every little thing. I wanted to go back, Maroo. Do something good for once."
"That's why you joined me." Maroo said. "It wasn't the money. It was the Grineer."
"I hated both of you, you know. You and Mor."
"I was painfully aware."
"People like you are the problem. The Tenno would have this system at peace if it weren't for the chaos. If it weren't for you all who thrive in it. Propagating it."
