WITHERING GLARE, PART I
Today was the day. The day of the auction.
Well, not quite "day" at the moment. The moon still shone bright in Ord Talavos' sky, stars glittering in the black void. But it was well past midnight and Valrisa still had not slept a wink.
She still couldn't quite put her finger on why she was feeling apprehensive. It wasn't the auction itself; she knew she was going to profit from it one way or another. It most certainly wasn't the artifact; she didn't believe in that "cursed" claptrap many spouted.
Perhaps it was what that old Koorivar had told her on Bar'leth; about the Sith she had encountered on Tatooine. But she wasn't scared by some lunatics with red lightsabers... was she? Or rather, she wasn't scared for herself... but rather for those she held closest.
What are you talking about? You're a bounty hunter. Only thing you care about are the credits.
There it was again, that voice. The voice of her self-doubt. Ever since Tatooine it had been speaking up, questioning her every act. No matter how many times she told it to shut up, it just kept on talking.
I'm losing my mind.
She was broken from her thoughts by the rustling of bedsheets. She suddenly became conscious of the person whom lay beside her, hogging all of the covers to keep warm. The only person she held above herself.
Don't be ridiculous. You're only in this for yourself.
"Shut up," she grunted under her breath.
You really think she cares about you? What makes you think she won't abandon you like all the others she has ditched?
Valrisa sat up and swung her legs over her side of the bed. Typha did not stir as she got to her feet and walked to the refresher.
She certainly likes to bring up all of her past flames. That alone should raise some red flags.
She didn't know what good splashing water in her face would do, but it was all she could think of. She quickly stopped, hoping it hadn't wakened Typha. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that the Pantoran was still fast asleep.
It's a miracle she's stuck with you this long.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The voice had a point; she hadn't expected this relationship to last longer than a few months yet here they were pushing three years. That was a record, especially for a pair of bounty hunters. Most partnerships, romantic or otherwise, between fringers never lasted for long, with one or both parties usually stabbing each other in the back before long. Maybe this actually meant something.
Don't get your hopes up.
Sighing quietly, she walked out of the refresher and climbed back into bed, being careful not to wake Typha. The azure girl still did not move, continuing to snore softly. Laying her head down on the pillow, Valrisa stared at the ceiling, watching the chronometer slowly count away the hours of the night.
It was going to be a long day.
* * *
There was less than a hour left until daybreak and Hahgalor Mos was already waiting for the day to be over.
He had never been the patient type, but the past few days had been rather eventful for him. After learning about Vasim Alazar's faulty droid, he had immediately contacted Alazar's company Altech Industries, who supplied most of the droids within his organization. However, the Gossam CEO had simply brushed off his concerns and hung up on him, despite Hahgalor's threats.
Now, not only was he paranoid of his droids, but he was also conscious of the fact that his threats were no longer, well, threatening. Maybe Altech Industries were simply used to angry crime bosses... or maybe he was losing his touch.
No! Impossible. He was the great Hahgalor Mos, feared by all. The idea of someone not fearing him was unfathomable. Something was afoot. He had to get to the bottom of this.
Shifting in his sleeping pod, he searched for the comm panel and pressed it to hail Brophar, his chief aide. A minute passed. No response. He pressed it again. Same result.
Blasted thing's broken again. Growling to himself, Hahgalor moved to under the front latch of his pod so he could get out. The latch did not budge, however. No matter how hard he pushed it with his massive hands, it would not open.
That was when he noticed the figure standing in front of him.
He opened his mouth to yell out for his guards but something compelled him to stop. Instead, he simply watched as the figure approached him, their features difficult to discern in the darkness of his room. When they spoke, it was not in a voice he would associate with any sentient being, Chevin or otherwise.
"Everything is fine."
Hahgalor blinked, confusion washing away his fear. "What?" he said blankly.
"Everything is fine. There is nothing to be worried about."
He found himself nodding, although he wasn't sure why. "Yeah. You're right."
"You will have a good day. You will be happy."
The Chevin couldn't fight the grin that crossed his face. "Exactly. And don't you forget it."
"Sleep well."
With that, the figure disappeared and Hahgalor found himself quickly drifting away, content with himself.
It was going to be a good day.
* * *
The information they had extracted from Delnar had checked out. Valrisa and the artifact were indeed on Ord Talavos. Trask Moran found it strange that he'd never heard of the planet before now, but after a bit of researching, he soon found out why.
Established as a military outpost during the Old Republic's early years, it was left abandoned following a climatic battle between the Jedi and the Sith, and was all but forgotten by the time of the Ruusan Reformations. It was only rediscovered as recent as ten years ago by Black Sun, who established operations on the planet. When Black Sun collapsed, the mysterious Malvis Cabal immediately laid claim to the world and had made it the center of their network.
Trask also found it curious that Ord Talavos wasn't far from Takodana, a similar haven for smugglers and pirates. He couldn't help but wonder if Maz Kanata was aware of Malvis' business and vice versa.
Still, that didn't matter now. He and his crew were only here to do their job and get paid. In and out. One and done.
Leaning back in his pilot seat, Trask glanced at his chrono. It was nearly dawn in the city of Vostal and the auction would be two hours after that. They still had a while to wait. Luckily, the Snatchers were a patient bunch.
Hearing movement behind him, he turned around to see a burly Aqualish standing in the entrance to the cockpit. His black eyes were narrowed and his tusks clicked together quietly.
"Can I help you?" Trask asked, raising an eyebrow.
"There seems to be a problem with Mador," Dorga Honda replied.
Trask waited for him to elaborate. When the Aqualish did not, he asked, "What's wrong with him?"
"I think you should see for yourself."
Rolling his eyes, Trask rose from his seat and followed Dorga out of the cockpit. The Aqualish took him portside, where Mador's quarters were located. The door was open and Trask could see right away what exactly Mador's problem was.
"He's dead," he murmured, staring at the bloodied corpse of an Abyssin slumped against the doorway.
"I know," Dorga replied.
Trask gave him a look. "Then why didn't you just tell me?"
"Because I didn't want you to think I did it."
"How does that--"
"I bet it was Karvis."
Trask sighed as he pinched his nose. "Of course you do. You always think it's Karvis."
"Or it could've been Rega. She's got some screws loose in that star-shaped head of hers."
"Forget it." Trask waved a hand. "We don't have time to deal with this. Whoever did this, we'll just have to be on the lookout. For now, let's just get rid of the body before it stinks up the ship."
Without a word, Dorga lumbered towards the deceased Mador and picked up the cyclops' corpse, before heading for the airlock. Trask rubbed his temple as he headed back for the cockpit.
It was going to be a long day, that much he could tell. He only hoped it would be a good one in the long run.
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