#au:caught

Ciner grabs for the controls in response which results in a short scuffle. I surrender the pad too late to move the brick any further. “Great!” the Sith exclaims. “Another try lost.”

“Maybe we should take a look at the map. Are there any hints on it?”

“There are not!” Ciner still insists he has it memorized. He gives the brick another tap. “Where are you supposed to go, you little bugger?” he asks softly. The brick remains silent.

Not like it has an agenda of its own, it’s just a brick, of course it doesn’t respond. Yet, in the back of my mind Ce’na starts to hum a familiar tune. “Wait!” I get up and concentrate to remember what my friend had told me about the old nursery rhyme. The words had been Twi’leki and her lekku had moved to the rhythm of the melody. Something about a dewback in a garden, capering between the flowers. I recall Ce’na jumping across some low fence on our way home one night after the club. “I am the little green dewback!” she had called in a singsong voice. And then she had started to turn, first one way, then the other, until I had to catch her from toppling over. Just for a moment I close my eyes in an attempt to preserve the memory. “Try to turn the thing first left, then right. Or the other way around if that doesn’t work.” Ciner gives me a quizzical stare. I dismiss further explanations and shrug. “Just try it.” What would a Sith know about nursery rhymes.

It actually takes several more tries to get the turns right and realize you have to tap the little green dewback on its head afterward. The instructions for unlocking the door prove to be rather simple. Like a touch-to-open cupboard you have to press the corners of the stone, then draw two Sith glyphs. Probably the dead guy’s initials or some such. I wonder how Ce’na got them, then shrug off the thought. She had her sources. 

I am not sure what I expected. The squeak of rusty hinges, the smell of decay? The stone slab barring entry to the tomb sorely disappoints, moving aside with barely a sound after Ciner draws the appropriate signs in the dust on its surface. There isn’t even any blood involved in the process. No rush of moldy air makes our torches flicker. Okay, we don’t carry torches, but that’s beside the point. Truth be told, the whole process pales in comparison to ‘Raiders of the Rakatan Tomb’ despite me humming the theme under my breath. At this point the angry ghosts should start shrieking and moaning in the dark depths of the burial chamber. They don’t.

“Opening a Sith tomb shouldn’t be this underwhelming!” I complain, feeling somewhat betrayed after all the effort we have been through.

“No!” no more than a whisper. “No!” more vehement. Ciner spins towards me. The fiery flecks in his eyes combine to a red glow embarrassing many a billboard for certain establishments on Nar Shaddaa.

I take a step back. My grip on the blaster tightens. I fight the urge to aim and shoot. It’s too late for that when he makes a familiar gripping gesture. This time the target aren’t my ankles though. I release the blaster and with it every coherent thought. The only intent left is to get rid of the stuff constricting my throat. Claw and scrabble as I may, there is nothing to get hold of except my own skin.

A hiss manages to penetrate the fog of my struggles. “He was mine!” Ciner’s nose almost touches mine. “I told you to stay out of the fight.”

“No!” I croak as best I can without much air left and try to shake my head. “No, we’re a team!” The pounding of my blood drowns out my own words.

Somehow the Sith gets my meaning. “You were only supposed to open the damned door.” With a shove he releases me.

I stumble a few steps and collapse on the stair. The gulps of air taste wonderful, the staleness merely a faint aftertaste. I search for the water bottle, take a few sips. There is fresh blood beneath my fingernails. The scratches on my throat burn like hell. If only I knew less about infections.

Ciner has gone back and closed Vemrin’s eyes. “He was a worthy opponent!” he says. “Still, you should not have interfered.”

And risk the other asshole winning? Don’t think so. We already agreed on Ciner being my best chance out of this mess. He might not like my lacking trust in his abilities, though. “Had to speed things up. Wasn’t able to concentrate on my task with all the ruckus you both made.”

“Have you ever tried to accept responsibility for your actions?”

“How much responsibility do you concede someone wearing a slave collar?” I don’t wait for a response. “You asked me for this dance. Don’t complain about me stepping on your toes. Because as long as you’re lead, it’s your own kriffing fault.”

“Says the one unable to follow. This dance would go a lot smoother if you did not try to hijack the lead every other step.”

I glare at him. A fine dancing couple we are. “Look, I wanted to help you. Everything happened so fast. The guy jumped, you weren’t in my line of fire, I shot. I didn’t think about it.”

“Lucky for you, you did not think. Otherwise you would not have been able to surprise him. Not at this distance. He could have killed you. You took an unnecessary risk.”

“That’s what I do.”

“Taking unnecessary risks?”

“No — I protect people who hire me. And though the circumstances are unusual,” I point at the shock collar, “I still kind of work for you. The payment is certainly generous if not invaluable.” My situation does look better when I put it this way. The collar adds a whole new flavor, but the rest is still familiar. Most of my life I’ve been doing what I have been told. At least people expected me to.

“Kark—ark—ark—ark—ark,” the hall yells back at me as if to voice its outrage at the desecration of the rodent sacrifice.

The Sith hurries back from the corridor. “What’s wrong? You failed!” he accuses.

With thumb and forefinger I press my eyes shut, trying to control the rhythm of my breathing. “I still got one life left!” I snarl.

“But?”

The simple question, spoken softly, without accusation, takes me off guard. “I am kriffing afraid, I won’t be able to make it,” I admit, my tongue once more faster than my thoughts. I fight the urge to smash the pad into thousand pieces.

Ciner puts his hand on my shoulder. The gentleness surprises me. “I believed in you from the start and I still do. You will open the tomb!”

I suspect he trusts his soothsayer rather than my skills, but I don’t get to voice my suspicion.

“He will open the tomb or he won’t live to regret it!” a no-nonsense voice announces.

Drawing his weapon Ciner spins around to face the newcomer exiting the second corridor. “Vemrin! I expected you sooner!” A mocking undertone has entered his voice.

“How did he get past the trap?” I wonder aloud and Ciner throws me a warning glance to silence me.

Vemrin steps out of the shadows. Human, reddish-brown hair cropped short with some fancy shaved streamlines, scars crisscrossing his otherwise ordinary face. Only his cruel sneer would make him stand out. He progresses to the center of the chamber. Okay — maybe he’d stand out even without it. In build and clothing he matches my friendly neighborhood Sith, even his gait is similar. Two trained fighters, both with a commanding presence that’s hard to miss.

“Get on with your task, slave!” he orders, “I am tired of waiting! I expect results after I killed your current master, this sorry excuse for a Sith. Bonding time is over!”

My current master? So he plans to take over, does he? And what does he mean, he’s tired of waiting? Has he been eavesdropping? It’s obvious, he and Ciner don’t get along. Given the circumstances I was doing rather well so far. Chances, that’ll be the same with Vemrin, don’t look promising.

With a wave of his hand Ciner keeps me silent. “Do as he says. Dealing with Vemrin is my task.” Three strides bring him close to his opponent, who started to circle the chamber counter-clockwise.

Their first few blows do nothing but make the chamber ring with their echoes. Dust trickles from above, and I can’t help checking whether the statues are moving. Their eyes are still closed, but the shadows between them are in uproar, the turmoil growing with the fight below picking up speed. Mimicking the duel, they pull now for one then for the other combatant.   Offering no certainty regarding the ceiling’s stability the dark demons urge me nonetheless to pry my eyes away to concentrate on the two fighting Sith. The strikes they are dealing are almost to fast to follow. They are not only fighting for their lives but also for my own. Forgotten is the order to find the key, to keep playing. As if anyone would be able to concentrate here on anything beside this fight. At the last moment I roll out of the way of a wild swing that would not have decapitated Ciner but me instead. I retreat with my back towards the gate and place the datapad in a corner on the floor, out of the immediate reach of shuffling feet.

Vemrin on the offensive, they trade several blows bringing them back to the center of the floor. Ciner sidesteps the next attack and gives Vemrin a kick in passing, making the other one grunt. They both are already breathing hard. None of them is holding back.

“You were hiding in one of the ventilation shafts!” This is not a question, Ciner states a fact.

“Even with Tremel’s help it’s a wonder you got this far. You’re spoiled rotten, and ignorant!” Vemrin spits at Ciner’s feet.

“I could not detect and disarm the trap because it had already been removed.” Ciner starts the circling this time, his eyed glued to his opponent’s face.

Vemrin’s expression speaks of disdain. “Anyone with half your education would have been able to pick up the remaining Force resonances.”

“Next time I will.” Ciner owns his fault.

“There won’t be a next time for you!” Vemrin spews. Weapon raised overhead he jumps to his next attack.

“Nothing!” I declare shaking my head. I take the steps to the gate and nothing happens. The numbness vanishes as I flex my fingers. “Feels like it tried to feed on me!” I mutter under my breath.

“It?” the Sith asks. “You mean the tomb?” His brows draw together. “Interesting thought!” His gaze shifts from me to the gate in front of us and back again.

Kark! My remark hasn’t been meant for his ears. I need to guard my tongue better than this. A credit for his thoughts. I don’t like his current expression. No, not at all! There is no need to take any risks here and let him come to wrong conclusions. I have no idea what exactly the security footage shows. “I am pretty sure there were no sacrifices involved when my friend opened the gate,” I explain. On the other hand I don’t have a clue on how to open it.

The Sith shifts his stance to face me. “And to how many percent — by your estimate — does ‘pretty sure’ translate to?” He is showing way too much of his teeth for my liking.

“137, more than enough,” I snap and he chuckles.

“Do not worry! As long as you honor our deal, I will do the same. It is reassuring to have another option if you fail, though.”

I can’t tell whether or not he’s joking. “Yeah, very reassuring!” Yet! I don’t have any clue yet, I remind myself. There are no obvious buttons on the two smaller statues guarding the gate.

“What can I say? I was foretold I would meet my key to this tomb. Now here you are, but destiny forgot to also deliver the usage instructions.”

At least he doesn’t need ab-usage instructions. Reassuring, my ass. “It’s not like I am a droid,” I grumble while I feel for any markings on the door itself.

Ciner nods. “I noticed. Droids usually do as they are told. And otherwise you reset them to factory adjustments. Getting rid of your bad habits would be a more tedious effort.”

The pot calling the kettle black! There is no point in risking my life and possible freedom just to make him scowl. Well, I try. “Lucky for you, that won’t be your problem, and lucky for me,” I say as I take off the backpack, “it won’t be mine either.” After short rummaging I raise the data pad in the air. “Someone realized it might be a good idea to keep the contents despite not being able to understand what they were. If this had been reset, we would be in trouble.” Or, in my case, in even more trouble.

Ciner’s mouth twitches in amusement. He got my point. Still. “There were no instructions on opening the gate,” Ciner points out. He has learned the map by heart. However he managed that in less than 15 minutes.

Giving the pad a rest on the top stair I stretch my back and crack my fingers. This might take a while. “Say, you had the brilliant idea to hide a bunch of valuable information behind a game for which you hold the high-score on various densely populated planets in several sectors.” I tilt my head to regard him. His pursed lips tell me he has trouble with the image. Not a gamer then. “If you are able to reach level 99 without breaking a sweat, do you seriously hide everything you got behind the third level?” His eyes widen. “I am pretty sure there is more to be found,” I affirm.

“Pretty sure? 137 percent?” Then more serious, “it does sound reasonable, though.” He observes me sitting down and booting the pad.

With a tap on the icon I start the game. “She was a genius, that much is certain!” A cough to hide the catch in my voice.

“Just out of curiosity. How many percent does ‘certain’ translate to?”

In the back of my mind Ce’na sticks her tongue out. I want to do the same. I am capable of rule of three, and percentage calculation and I am kriffing proud of it. I swallow my pride and concentrate on the game. Why would I even care about the Sith’ opinion of me? I’ll be rid of him as soon as we get back out of this tomb.

The first levels don’t require much skill, only about a minute each of the rest of my life. What’s not eaten up by the game, the steps are sucking out of my ass, which sounds weird when I say it like that. Marun’s injection did some good, but it hasn’t conjured any more flesh onto my bones. During level 5 I feel the cold creeping towards some more tender parts I am quite fond of. Since I can’t rule out I’ll get the chance to use them again, I take the break after level 5 to repurpose the backpack to a seat pad. My scowl is supposed to discourage anyone from making jokes about karking hemorrhoids. The days when I thought, people at age twenty were old, have gone past long since. By the time I reach level 12 Ciner already paced up and down the hall several times. Level 25 and he stops in front of me.

“How long will this take?”

I shoot him a quick glance. “Longer if you distract me at the wrong moment.” I don’t bother to wait for his reaction. Level 25 doesn’t make me break a sweat, but I have to keep an eye on the preview. Why does this kriffing game don’t have any save points? Ce’na loved it. I played a few times to humor her. I beat her at target practice. She annihilated me in this game’s battle mode. If she hid the info behind one of the last levels I might as well kill myself now. Only, she wouldn’t do something so impractical, would she? Her image in my mind shakes her head so hard her lekku fly. No, she would never overdo anything this much, not even if she found it hilarious. About half an hour till level 35. Where does impractical turn to useless?

“We don’t have all day!” Ciner’s feet roam outside of my field of vision, yet the acoustics in this chamber carry his muttered remark, words and meaning clear as crystal.

I look up to retort. “It’s so much cozier here than in my cell. You can’t blame me for dragging this out.” He makes a face which tells me he speaks sarcasmic, too. Only, getting ruffled doesn’t help with winning the game. With a blaring sound I lose one of my three lives. “Kark! Here we go. Two lives left. If I lose those, too, I’ll have to start all over again. You want this to be over? Stop karking distracting me for no karking reason. If that’s not too karking much to ask for!” I never made it past level 75. Do I dare hope she didn’t hide it past that? I visualize someone playing with her lek, gazing up through nonexistent eyelashes, managing the same effect nonetheless. A picture of pure innocence. 37 and one life already lost. I hate this game.

“Calm down! I know it takes as long as it takes.” The Sith draws a deep breath, leans against the legs of one of the statues, faces me. “I have a bad feeling. Maybe the shyracks are gathering to come back.” He looks towards the corridor we came through.

I rub the strain from my eyes and crack my knuckles again. “Kark them, this changes nothing. If they come back, we’ll deal with them — again! What matters now is that I win this kriffing game. Why don’t you guard the hallway, while I do my part?” I’d prefer to snap some over-sized lizard-birds’ necks right now.