#cinlat ejnar

Fynta was still taking in her new companions when Caldus let a gasp slip. She knew by those widened eyes that Cin had removed her helmet now that they were safely aboard the ship. When Fynta pried her gaze from the brothers, Cinlat was finger combing through white curls that she kept loose even under her helm.

Cin’s paleness made her recognizable, something that the older woman hated. She was beautiful in her own way; Cin hated that too. ”I’ve worked with this organization for years,” she continued, ignoring the staring males as she headed deeper into the ship. “They’ve got contacts in the Jedi Order, Sith Council, Republic and Imperial Military, the underground… their reach spans the galaxy.”

The Torgruta’s posture slumped, air escaping between his lips like maybe he hadn’t been convinced of their motives until just then. It was Caldus who spoke though. “Why did we go through all of this trouble for eleven slaves? It’s hardly a dent in the Hutt’s trade.”

Fynta had heard the phrase voice like rolling thunder from those romance novels circulating the Clans, but his was a fiefreking rockslide. Each growling syllable built on the last until the entire sentence roared to life. Fynta had never heard anything like it, and wondered how best to keep him talking.

Cinlat narrowed those iridescent eyes on the big Cathar, then turned and walked out of the room. “That was rude,” Altan whispered.

Fynta thought it was a fair question. She’d heard of the Beroya Brothers, how Caldus took his Verd’goten at nearly twenty and his ruthlessness when it came to completing his mission. Still, he needed to understand. ”Those scars across Cin’s left eye,” she started. It wasn’t her story to tell, but these two deserved to know why they’d been dragged all over the Hutt world. “She got them in those pits.”

Molten eyes widened, and the Cathar’s chin dropped enough to give Fynta a glimpse of the sharp teeth hidden behind that beard before he snapped it shut. Altan shoved his brother’s shoulder as Fynta headed in the opposite direction of her sister. No doubt Verin was already in the cockpit.

As Cin started up the stairs ,Verin’s voice crackled through the outdated intercom. “Buckle up, we’re about to lift off.” Fynta took one of the chairs built into the wall and pulled the straps across her chest.

Caldus and Altan joined her. While the Cathar remained stoic, Altan had found his voice. It was smooth, like a rare silk. His markings gave the impression of crimson skin the same color as his hood, giving way to a bone white mask. “How often do you do stuff like that?”

Fynta lifted a shoulder. She still wore the silk wraps from the auction, though they were a bit grimy after a trek through the swamp. The stale air of the ship raised goosebumps along her skin. Fynta rubbed her hands along her arms while she spoke. “When we can. Sometimes we learn about the auctions too late, or we’re on the wrong side of the galaxy. A lot has to fall into place to make it work.”

Caldus squeezed into the seat between Fynta and Altan, and she greatly appreciated the warmth he radiated. The man was bigger up close than he had been across the cargo bay, with thighs twice the size of hers. However, when Fynta tried to get closer, the Cathar jerked his leg away. Fynta took the folded arms and stiff posture as a sign that he didn’t want to be touched. Sighing, she leaned back into her chair and tried to think warm thoughts.

”Are you always the bait?” Altan leaned as far forward as the seatbelts would let him to speak around Caldus. The ship rumbled to life, rocking as Verin lifted them off the ground. One lekku slipped free of the hood, now pulled over Altan’s head to hang over his shoulder, his brown eyes wide with anticipation of her answer.

Fynta studied the Togruta and his complex armour. The hood was attached directly to his chestplate, wrapping around it to create a sling or she supposed, a hood when he needed. She’d never given thought to how a Togruta helmet would work either. It looked…complicated. Lots of links and interconnecting parts that retracted into each other.

It wasn’t until Caldus also turned to stare down at Fynta that she realized she hadn’t answered. Despite their efforts to stay separate, he took up more than his fair share of the seats. Fynta pressed her legs tighter together and leaned around him too. “Only recently. It used to be Cin, even Verin has taken turns, but it’s easier for me. I can be…persuassive.”

Caldus rolled his eyes while Altan blinked rapidly. Fynta desperately wanted to know the Cathar’s story. How did he end up in the Clans, after everything her people had done to his? He had to have been running from something serious. Instead, Fynta focused on Altan. “You are Beroya’s boys, right? How’s Rishi?”

”Warm,” Altan answered, successfully distracted. Fynta found that she wasn’t ready to explain the seedy side of their family business to the younger man. She doubted he was naive, but there was still a spark of youth and innocence in his eyes that she’d like to keep there.

While Caldus continued to scowl at the far wall, Altan wove his story in as few words as possible. “I was born there, in a little fishing village. There was a turf war and my parents got caught in the crossfire. Jos felt bad and brought me home to Valk when I was six.”

The loud exhale from the Cathar between them made Altan lean back to look at his brother. “What?”

”Ignore him,” Fynta said as she leaned back into her seat. “He’s just grumpy.”

An honest smile broke over the Togruta’s face, bright and nearly painful to look at because of its lack of restraint. Fynta would need to remember that for the future: take the kid’s side against his brother, win his favor. She didn’t want to alienate Caldus though, so she changed the subject again. “Verin mentioned that we are doing a mission together. Do either of you know what it’s about?”

Any answers were cut off by the man in question announcing that they’d made it off Hutta and everyone could move around. Caldus unfastened the harness and shoved from the seat. “I need to crash, where is a good spot?”

Fynta followed suit, motioning for them to join her in the hallway. “The room upstairs belongs to Verin and Cinlat, but there are plenty of bunks down here.” She gestured to the left where two beds jutted out from the wall. Then across the hall where four more sleeping cabins were built into it.

Caldus threw himself onto one of the beds in the first room, his helmet rolling onto the floor. Fynta wanted to know the story behind that too. It was unique, kind of like the brothers. They would be identifiable wherever they went, but Fynta figured that came with the armour. She hoped whatever the job was didn’t require discretion.

“I’m going to hit the fresher and take a nap. You two get some rest. It’s a four hour trip back to Dromund Kas.” The last place Fynta wanted to go, but apparently where their benefactor waited. At least the ban had been lifted. Verin swore that she wouldn’t be shot, impaled, or choked on sight. He hadn’t been able to give such assurances once she opened her mouth.

Fynta turned from the brothers with a smile, but paused when Altan stuck his head back into the hallway. “Thank you.” He offered a small, flat smile that looked almost painful. Nothing like the previous one. Fynta filed that away for future speculation.

“Any time,” Fynta answered, though she got the sense there were layers to his words that would take her a long time to untangle. Altan vanished back into the room just as quickly, the door snapping shut a moment after Caldus’s unintelligible grumble.

Technically, the Beroya brothers had just stolen Fynta’s room, but since they weren’t staying on the ship long term, she didn’t see the point in kicking them out. As she stood before one of the sleeping cabins, Fynta decided Caldus wouldn’t have fit anyway.

Before she could climb into a bunk, Fynta wanted to get into something more comfortable. She stomped from the room and stood at the bottom of the stairs. “Toss me some clothes!”

A wad of fabric vaulted over the railing, unraveling on its way down and scattering in different directions. She managed to snag the shirt, but the boxers and socks evaded her. They were clearly Verin’s, no way she’d ever fit into Cin’s stuff. Fynta snatched them from the floor, stuck her tongue out at the brother she couldn’t see, then stomped back to her room.

Once the door shut, Fynta shucked the rags from the auction and left them in a pile on the floor. She desperately needed a shower, but it had been nearly two weeks since she’d had a full night’s sleep. She flopped onto her stomach on the too thin mattress, pulled her feet in as she rolled deeper into the cubby, then activated the privacy screen. Blessed darkness surrounded her; she was asleep before she pulled up the blankets.

The nap had been nice until a large hand pinned Fynta’s shoulder to the mattress. She shot up, a sharp pain slicing through her knuckles when they collided with something hard. By the time Fynta opened her eyes, Caldus had staggered from the bed and had his hand over his mouth.

A dull ache settled in immediately, like her bones were a little too big, veins clogged with sand, and brain made of barbed wire. Fynta knew it was a side effect of coming off the stims, something she told herself she’d deal with later each time she took another shot. Later was now, and past Fynta was a bitch.

Groaning, Fynta slung her legs over the bed, her cybernetic responding sluggishly with her body so out of sorts. She needed vitamins, electrolytes, probably some kolto…Fynta banged a fist against the metal leg to shift it into position, maybe a mechanic.

“Verin sent me to wake you,” Caldus growled, an actual growl, like an angry manka cat but with words.

Fynta lifted her eyes, noting the way the stripes on the Cathar’s face pulled towards the center when he frowned at his hand. There was blood on his bottom lip when he spoke, more on the tips of the fingers he glared at.

”He must not like you.” Fynta decided as she forced shaky muscles into action. Her stance was wobbly, but she didn’t think she’d fall over.

Caldus touched his lip again before shifting his fiery gaze to Fynta. “The feeling is mutual.” Fynta wasn’t sure if that direct eye contact was a threat against her or her brother. She honestly didn’t care. That was a future Fynta problem.

Without waiting for Fynta’s response, Caldus turned for the door. “Come on, we’ll be there in an hour.”

Fynta followed at a slow pace, stopping next to the fresher. Caldus paused, looked back, then snorted. “Be quick.” Fynta didn’t need to be told twice. She wasn’t quick either.

By the time Fynta exited the shower, attacked her hair with a towel, and snuck into her old room to snatch some clothes, there was less than twenty minutes of hyperspace left. She tugged the soft shirt over her head as she climbed the stairs, her cybernetic announcing her approach with each clanging step.

Fynta decided at the top of the stairs that she should have chosen pants instead of shorts, so she made a show of stuffing her legs into the shirt Verin had tossed her earlier just to stretch it out. Her brother laughed and swung his gaze lazily over to Caldus. “Forgot to warn you that she’s violent in her sleep.”

The Cathar’s lip had stopped bleeding, but the swelling pushed that part of his beard further out. Caldus answered with a rude hang sign he definitely learned from the Vizla Clan, and Verin laughed harder. “I think you and Fynta will get along just fine.” While she grinned, Caldus bared his teeth.

The group had gathered around the table in the upstairs lounge, small plates of rations laid out like a feast. Some even still had food on them. Fynta snagged one of those and stuffed the uj cake into her mouth while she studied her companions.

Caldus still wore the lower half of his armour, but had rid himself of the chestplate and helmet. He was still a massive guy, but had managed to find a shirt that fit without being too tight. His brother, by contrast, was buried under a robe and a pile of blankets that looked like he’d raided every bed but hers. Verin lounged in his kute, as usual, and Cinlat still wore full armour minus the helmet. Of all of them, Fynta was the least dressed. She took another plate of rations and waddled over to one of the empty chairs. Not a graceful moment, but Verin’s shirt gave satisfying pops as Fynta tested the seam’s limits.

“Do you think she was Sith?” Altan asked, picking up a conversation she’d clearly interrupted, which immediately gained Fynta’s attention.

Cinlat propped her hip on the armrest of the chair Verin had claimed. “Doubt it. She wasn’t creepy enough.” The woman had never been much for touch, but she liked proximity to him, and that seemed to be enough for Verin. As long as they were happy, Fynta didn’t pry.

”Could she have been a Jedi?” Caldus asked, claws stroking through his thick beard. His gaze was focused elsewhere, and Fynta could see the wheels turning while he picked whatever it was apart.

Verin snorted and slid an arm around Cin’s hips. "You really think a Jet’ii would get into something where they have to kill just because a piece of paper says so?"

“Who are we talking about?” Fynta popped another piece of cake into her mouth. She assumed this was something that took place while she was elsewhere, but being out of the loop annoyed her.

“I bet she took it off a Jedi’s corpse,” Cinlat decided, ignoring Fynta for the most part. Fynta huffed and the woman’s white eyes focused on her. “The up and coming Great Hunt Champion, according to Altan’s contact. The real question is, did that slip of a girl do the deed, or was the Jedi already dead when she found it?”

Fynta nodded, appeased. The answer to that question would make the difference between a champion and a dead hunter. Fynta set the empty plate aside and reached over Caldus for the leftover eggs. He snarled and slapped her arm away. Fynta lifted a brow at the cranky Cathar, who sighed and grabbed the object of her desire and shoved it at her.

After nodding her thanks, which seemed to annoy him further, Fynta focused on her sister. “Why didn’t you join this one, Cin?” The eggs weren’t half bad, which meant Verin must have cooked.

The woman waved her hand. “Been there, done that. More than a decade ago. I’m past the hype.”

Verin coughed, and Fynta hid her wince. She knew he brother wasn’t past it, and that Cin was his only chance at a shot in the big leagues. There was defeat in that desperate grab for water that the Mandalorian in Fynta pitied. She wanted her brother to find fame and glory, but he might have to choose between that and his wife in the end. Fynta knew which choice he’d make.

“Moving on. We need to plan for Dromund Kaas.” Cinlat bent forward to clear plates away from the holo embedded in the middle of the table and activated a map. “It’s been four years since Fynta was allowed to step foot on this planet—“

”Not that it stopped her,” Verin muttered over his glass. Fynta’s grin widened while Caldus shifted a side eyed glare at her.

Cinlat ignored her husband. “Even with a pardon, I want all of you to stick to the Enclave. We shouldn’t risk Fynta pissing anyone off before we get the actual contract signed. That will come directly from Imperial Intelligence. They’ll meet us on our turf, where we control the narrative.”

”Why aren’t you going?” Caldus asked, his question focused on the white haired woman across from him.

A heavy silence fell over the room while Verin leveled the Cathar with a sharp glare. Fynta didn’t see a reason for all the secrecy. She’d read the dossier, what was available of it, at least, and knew that her older sister wouldn't be a good fit for this job despite her years of experience. “Cin’s Force sensitive.”

Caldus jerked around to look at Fynta, open astonishment pulling the stripes on his face apart. Fynta was fascinated by how they morphed with his moods. Slowly, he turned back to the huntress, who wore the stoic expression that rarely left her features. Fynta chuckled. “Not enough to be useful, mind you, but enough that this thing we’re hunting might sense her. Speaking of which, do I get to borrow the Mantis?”

”Over my dead body,” Cin deadpanned, seemingly unbothered that Fynta had outed her. At best, it gave Cinlat pretty eyes that she hated and uncanny aim. No telekinesis, no mind control, or lightning…but enough to make her a liability when hunting something that could sense the Force.

Verin cleared his throat, pulling the brothers’ attention from his wife. At least one of them. Altan stared at Cinlat like she was a puzzle he’d like to take apart and put back together. Fynta could just make out the white center of his face, but everything else was lost in the shadow of his hood. There was nothing menacing in it, but Fynta could practically feel the younger man’s curiosity. ”I’ll work on travel arrangements when we get planetside. I’m thinking—“

Altan interrupted Verin’s planning from beneath his cozy pile. “We can take our ship.”

Another snarl from Caldus told Fynta that by our, Altan meant Big Brother’s ship. Altan sank further into his fabric cave. “It’s big enough for the three of us to travel in and—“

”Not an option.” Caldus had become more snarly as the conversation progressed, and Fynta wondered if that was just his voice. Not that she minded, it did pleasant things to her body that would probably annoy him further.

The corridor opened once the throng of gamblers and cutthroats cleared the tunnels. Half dressed cocktail waitresses waited to relieve the crowd of what creds they still had. Verin was considering getting a proper room for the night when Altan waved a hand. “I’m getting a call from Mako.”

”Here.” Cinlat led them to an alcove, waving away a too young Twilek with barely concealed marks around her neck. Verin curled his fists in an effort not to drag the girl with them, but without knowing who her master was, he might be inviting more trouble than they could handle at the moment. Blowing out a breath, he followed when Cin motioned for Altan to set his comm on on a tilted table.

Mako appeared in the center, her face brighter than the last time Verin had seen it. He wondered how that saber wielding hunter who jumped him was progressing. That thought triggered a silent vow to stop walking through doors first. Between Fynta and Mako’s little bounty hunter, Verin felt short of a few lives. While he hadn’t kept up with the standings for the final Melee like he wanted, Verin hoped to be back in time to see it in person. 

“Congrats on the big win. Your pockets will be full tonight,” Mako grinned. Cinlat smacked Verin without looking at him. She hated gambling, but Verin didn’t see it as a bet when the fight was a sure thing. Mako must have thought the same, because she laughed. “Don’t be too mad at him. That bet got you invited to a lucrative auction, which I assume was the end goal.”

”Where is it being held?” Cinlat asked, ignoring the girl’s chipper mood. Verin inched a little further away just in case she decided to hit him again. 

Mako tapped on something out of view, her tone turning serious. “I just sent the details to Altan.” Verin didn’t miss the way the Togruta flinched when his datapad buzzed. Mako continued, making a point to look into the camera. “This is as far as I can take you. Things are getting real here, and I need to focus on my hunter.”

Verin leaned around his wife so that Mako could see him. “Anything we can do to help?” He figured they owed Mako’s crew something. She’d turned a potential week’s worth of footwork into a seventy-two hour event. 

“Thanks, but no. This is something we need to take care of on our own.” Mako’s smile returned as she settled on Altan. “Until next time. Good luck!” 

The call ended, a holo menu popping up where Mako had been. “Make your selection or please vacate the table,” a cheerful droid intoned. 

Cinlat moved first, and the rest fell in behind her like proper Mandalorian men. Once outside, she stepped into an alley and waved for Altan to produce his datapad. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

Altan thumbed open the device and angled it for Cinlat to see. Given she was the shortest of them, Verin and Caldus were left crowding in behind her. No doubt she hated that as much as he hated having his back to the open air, but Cin was practical above all else. She stowed away any discomfort and pointed at the display. “Looks like we can start bidding now. Final bets will be in a few hours in person; directions to come.”

”Guess we need to make an impression then.” Verin held out his hand, then cleared his throat when Altan didn’t respond. “May I?”

”Right.” Altan handed over the device, nearly dropping it in his haste. Caldus must have said something privately because the Togruta’s faceplace turned towards his brother and nodded. His shoulders lifted, then dropped, but neither of Beroya’s boys said anything else.

While the brothers sorted themselves out, Verin considered his options. Fynta was the champion and already had an absurd number of credits placed on her. Verin was torn between horror that these people wanted to purchase his little sister, and pride that she’d garnered so much favor. 

In the end, Verin errored on the side of ridiculous and threw caution to the wind. Cin let out an uncharacteristic snort when she saw the amount. “It’s a good thing we plan to be off planet when they try to collect.”

”That won’t matter to the Hutts,” Caldus countered, joining the conversation once more. “They’ll send someone after us.”

“Not if they are all dead.” The silence that followed his suggestion made Verin look up from the datapad. All faceplates angled towards him. Verin grinned and nudged his wife. “How do you want to play this?”

Caldus shifted from foot to foot, while Altan stood so still that Verin wondered if the kid had fallen asleep. Cinlat took back the datapad, and Verin knew she was retracing the same lines of text over and over until something popped out at her. “Someone needs to play the noble,” she finally decided.

Again, all helmets shifted in Verin’s direction. He held up his hands and tried to back away, but Caldus now stood behind him. ”Why me?” Though he put on a show of whining, Verin didn’t mind playing a spoiled little prick living off daddy’s credits. It meant he got to eat the snacks while the rest played bodyguards. He couldn’t appear too eager, though. He had a reputation to uphold. 

Cin simply pointed at the boys. “Cathar. Togruta.” Then at Verin. “Human.” He noticed that she left herself out of the lineup. Cinlat didn’t remove her helmet in public and that was that. Caldus would simply snarl at everyone, and while Altan had shown an impressive knack for blending into the background, that wasn’t what this part of the mission needed. 

In the end, there was only one option. Verin gave a weary sigh. “Guess I should go shopping." Cinlat smacked him again. 

Finding a decent outfit that wouldn’t cost the same as a refuel for the Mantis took the rest of the afternoon. Verin settled on a forest green doublet made from a synthetic velvet and brown pants. He liked the outfit. Caldus said it made him look like a tree. Cheeky little—well big—very big bastard.

”Do you think they are okay?” Altan asked, his voice hushed through the earpiece Verin now wore. His armour had been stashed beneath a stall by the exit. If everything went as planned, he’d grab the duffle on his way out. If it didn’t go as planned, well he’d still grab it on the way out. Cinlat had laid out a simple enough strategy that so long as everyone did their parts, they should be able to grab the kids and Fynta, then slip out in the chaos.   

”I’m sure they are fine,” Caldus rumbled. It took Verin a little too long to realize that Altan meant Mako and her crew, not Fynta. A twinge of annoyance tightened Verin’s chest, but only briefly. Mako was Altan’s friend, Fynta was someone new. Someone who had also taken down a Trandoshan bare handed. He supposed that meant she could handle herself in the youngster’s eyes.

“It’s time,” Cin interrupted, moving towards the doors along with several others who had been milling around in the private lounge. “Surround Verin on all sides.”

That was easier said than done in such a small room where tables and chairs offered respite to the denizens awaiting their turn for excessive booze and gambling. Cinlat stood in front of Verin, while Caldus took the back and Altan covered whichever side faced the crowd. They herded him around the wall like professional bodyguards would,. then walked him into the main auction room.

Inside waited a scene from an entirely different world. Gone were the dusty, sticky floors. Gleaming metal replaced them, polished enough for patrons to get a peek up the skirts of the serving girls. Proper food sat atop trays, along with flutes of drinks that Cin warned against sampling, but tempted Verin nonetheless.

Even the slaves here were higher caliber. They had rounded hips and fat on their thighs. Everything in this room had to be from the personal stock of whichever Hutt who sponsored the fights. Verin made a point to wink at a curvy Mirialan who offered him a drink; she offered a wide smile that didn’t reach her equally green eyes.  

“Do we have a position on Fynta?” Cin’s visor scanned the room, her impatience only visible to Verin. He cursed silently, forgetting for a moment the memories this glamourous setting would dredge up for her. Cinlat had been the Champion for nearly a decade before she won her freedom. She’d seen this room too many times to be impressed. She knew what lay beneath it.

”Just now,” Altan answered privately. “She’s on the floor below, but it looks like she is moving. Should we wait?” 

“No. We move now.” Cinlat angled her head towards a door that one of the serving girls slipped behind. “This is our best chance of getting downstairs. Altan, you’re with me.”

When Caldus started to object, Verin spoke over him, masking his words by touching a glass to his lips. “Listen, vod’ika. Altan and Cin are the least threatening of our group. There are going to be frightened women and children down there.” 

Everyone ignored the Cathar’s snarl, Cin pressing through the crowd towards the door. Minglers moved out of the way, sparing her a cursory glance but nothing more. Altan stepped closer to his brother. “They’re right. It has to be us.”

When Caldus gave a stiff nod in response, Altan started after Cin. He received more respect, members stepping aside to let the tall youth pass. Still, no one seemed overly curious. No doubt they assumed that Mandalorians had been hired for their safety. 

Verin watched them go, then motioned for Caldus to follow him. “Trust your vod. This is what we do.”

”Yeah?” Caldus asked, confusing Verin with the note of bitterness in his tone. “You’ve done this a lot?”

Verin stopped on the outer edge of the room near one of the exits and leaned against the wall. He studied the Cathar, trying to work out where his anger came from and if he was going to be a problem for Fynta. Verin didn’t want to separate the brothers. Hell, Verin wasn’t sure if he could force Caldus to stay behind, but he might not have a choice if the Cathar didn’t show his worth soon. Altan would be invaluable to Fynta’s mission. Caldus might be a liability. 

”Yeah,” Verin finally answered, turning back to watch the crowd. “We have.” He’d see how this went, then speak with Fynta privately. For all her recklessness, she was usually a good judge of character. 

Caldus rumbled another growl, but any retort was cut off by an announcement that bidding was about to begin. The Cathar’s helmet swung towards the opening floor panels in the center of the room where a platform raised Fynta into view. As expected, she wore little more than scraps of crimson silk and a set of cuffs around her wrists. He didn’t miss the trail of dried blood down the side of her neck either. 

Verin snorted when the platform came to a jerky halt and Fynta was ushered onto a crystal platform so that she could be studied up close. “They should have chained her ankles too.” He ignored the way Caldus’s helmet swiveled in his direction. “Just watch.”

Crossing his arms, Verin waited for the vultures to circle. Fynta stood tall on her stage, shoulders back and somehow managed to make the revealing clothing a challenge. Verin wasn’t sure if their parents would be proud of the woman she’d become or beat the osik out of him for letting her continuously pull stunts like this. Probably best that they didn’t know. 

“Are we just going to let them treat her like that?” Caldus groused as the smartly dressed patrons in their gowns and robes discussed Fynta’s usefulness. Verin heard all the usual suggestions from a champion in smaller fights or a bed slave. For depraved people with too many credits, most lacked imagination. 

Caldus took a step towards the stage when a well muscled human with an impressive mustache grabbed Fynta’s ass. Verin snagged the Cather’s paldron. “Watch,” he urged. “And get ready to run.”

It happened quickly, as mostly things with Fynta did. Caldus’s hand had barely curled into a fist, no doubt planned for Verin, when the mustached man got too close. Fynta’s foolishly unbound foot connected with the hawkish nose, staining that magnificent mustache a grisly shade of red. Blood sprayed and the woman with the man shrieked obscenities. Fynta vaulted from the stage and tackled another patron to the ground. Verin tapped Caldus’s chestplate. “That’s our signal. Think you can hit that fancy chandelier from here?” 

Caldus turned in the direction Verin indicated, hand already resting on his blaster. Verin saw the moment his plan registered, because the Cathar turned his face back to him. “A little cliche, isn't it?”

”Only because it works.” Verin had his eye on the main power line on the wall behind him now. “Let’s help Fynta sow some chaos.”

Caldus took a step towards the commotion, then paused. “You’re not concerned about collateral damage?” Even as he said it, the blaster slipped free of its holster. 

Verin poured contempt into his voice as he released his father’s beskad from his belt. “I don’t give a shrill’s balls what happens to these fuckers.” Then, he spun and slammed the blade into the main powerline. There was a moment of pitch black silence before yellow generator lights flicked on. 

An eerie chuckle echoed from Caldus’s direction a moment before the massive light fixture crashed into the crowd below, scattering food and cutlery. That’s when the screaming started in earnest. “What about your sister?” Caldus asked over their shared comms.

As if summoned, Fynta appeared from the gloom, slamming into Verin. He caught her before she rebounded, then spun her towards Caldus. “Found her.” Verin laughed when Fynta punched his chestplate, then swore and shook out her hand.

”We’ve got the kids. Heading to the shipyard.” Cin’s voice crackled in Verin’s ear as if she was coming out from underground and just got a signal back. The tightness in Verin’s chest eased at the sound of her voice.

”Time to go. They got what we came for.” Verin tucked Fynta beneath his arm to shield her if shots were fired. Caldus crowded in behind, acting as a shield without needing to be ordered. Verin counted that as a good sign.

The exits clogged with panicked partiers, but having a metaphorically two ton Cathar with them went a long way towards clearing a path. No one seemed to care that the night’s prized entertainment was escaping. That would be the Hutt’s problem, after all. No doubt there would be a bounty on Fynta’s head. Verin pitied anyone who tried to collect it. He snatched the duffle with his armour and corralled Fynta out the doors. 

Finally outside, Caldus snatched the jacket from a Nautolan male and slung it over Fynta’s shoulders in a move so smooth that Verin realized this kid was probably no stranger to thievery. No one spoke until they’d made it past the city gates where Verin shucked his fancywear in favor of his beskar’gam. Only once they were trekking deeper into the swamps did Fynta take a deep breath and tip her face towards the moon. “So, where did you park?”

”Cin’s deeper into the swamp, I’m sure.” Verin cursed when he remembered the fighter back at the spaceport. “I’m going to have to come back for my ride. Jex is going to be pissed.”

As the city shrank in the distance, so did the cacophony of a ruined night's fun. The darkness filled with creature calls and the chirp of bugs, the lights steadily growing further apart until Fynta gripped Verin’s arm. He realized that not only was she half naked, but had no night vision. She cursed and stumbled, and Verin looked down; or shoes. 

“Shab Fyn’ika. You should have said something.” Verin turned his back towards her and squatted. “Hop on.”

”We’re the same size.” Verin heard her eye roll, even if he couldn’t see it. His thighs were already burning when Fynta shoved his shoulder. 

Straightening, Verin faced his sister. “I’m still an inch taller and heavier. Now get on my damn back so that your feet don’t get shredded out here.” The contract had a time limit and they were pushing it by coming here first. If Fynta had to take more time to heal, Verin wasn’t sure how a benefactor with that kind of reach would react. 

”I’ll carry her,” Caldus rumbled, stepping between the siblings before Fynta could counter. “We don’t have time for your bitching.”

“I do like a man who can sweep me off my feet,” Fynta added with a challenging eyebrow at Verin. He raised his hands and stepped back because Caldus was right. It wouldn't take long for a search party to catch their trail. Which put Cin in danger too.

Caldus snarled through his speakers. “Shut up and get on.” The Cathar crouched in front of Fynta, bracing one hand on the ground for balance, while Fynta hooked her fingers into his pauldrons. Caldus stood with little effort, gripping her thighs and trudging forward. “You coming, old man?”

Even though Altan could see over Cinlat’s head, he kept his gaze on the back of her boots. He didn’t want to see their surroundings as they traversed the path down to the fighting pits. As pretty as the planet looked from orbit, Altan hated this place. It reminded him too much of how they’d found Caldus. The matted fur and malnourished body of a boy still in his teens. Altan hadn’t realized that they were rescuing a slave that day, only that his buir would know how to help.

Those memories of his brother soothed the irritation of their argument from moments before. The longer they followed the winding tunnel towards the screaming masses below, the more certain Altan became that he needed to make his brother see him as an equal, not an obligation. Caldus didn't owe Altan; he didn't need to be his keeper.

A pang of awareness echoed through Altan’s mind, mapping out the dozens of writhing forms in the spacious room below. Normally, he had better control over this ability, but it always slipped when he was stressed. Hutta was a mass of chaos that overstimulated his senses, and Caldus's brooding protectiveness wasn’t helpingAltan's focus. 

“Altan, are you ready?” Cinlat asked, startling him from his thoughts. They’d made it to the Pit and she leaned over the railing, no doubt checking the lineup below.

It was a simple task. Present himself as a medical specialist, easy given his fascination with alien physiology, then find Fynta and implant the small tracking chip that Mako had given them. It would only last four hours, so they had to wait as long as possible in case the fights ran over. All she had to do was tap it to signal it was time to pick her and the kids up. 

Altan glanced at his brother before responding. “I’ll be right back.” He tugged the hood up and tightened the white cross on red arm band. Caldus held his helmet, and even though Altan raised his chin and started down the stairs with a straight spine, he couldn’t wait to slip back into the anonymity of his bu’cuy.

As Altan descended the spiral staircase, he reminded himself that he was not that lost little boy anymore. He had overcome a lot to get to this point in his life, and no one, not even a well meaning family, would strip him of that independence.

At the bottom, Altan tapped the armband when a human guard intercepted him. “I’m to do a final check on the fighters.” It didn’t matter that he was a head taller than the human, his heart thundered at the prospect of getting caught.

In the end, the guard grunted and stood aside. “Make it quick. Start at the front.” Altan nodded, then hoped his dismay didn’t show when he saw that Fynta was at the back. 

Altan made his way down the line, relying on the medical training Valk had insisted he learn. She’d said Caldus didn’t have the patience for it, and at least one of her sons needed to know how to put the other back together. Altan checked eyes and teeth, temperatures and injuries. A couple of the men had severe infections from rusty blades. One wouldn’t last the night no matter how well he did on the sands. Not with how high his fever was. His veins were already thick and twisted, eyes glazed. Altan whispered well wishes that seemed to fall on deaf ears and injected both men with a standard kolto blend.

By the time Altan reached Fynta, the first fighters were already in the pit. The guard stood with crossed arms and his back to the lineup. Altan lifted the syringe. They’d come up with a whole story about Fynta having a fever and needing a kolto injection, but it wasn’t necessary while the guard’s attention was focused on the meaty thumps beyond the gate. 

Altan met Fynta’s gaze, her eyes were a dark blue, he realized for the first time. The kind that reminded him of the darkest parts of the ocean where the most terrifying creatures lurked. Fynta lifted the brow beneath her tattoo, then tilted her head to one side. Altan found her immediate trust unnerving, but injected the tracking device anyway.

”All done.” Altan brushed a kolto cloth over her skin to clear away the blood, using the opportunity to lean closer. “Touch this to activate.” It was all he could risk saying and he hoped she would understand. Verin seemed confident enough, so Altan had no other choice but to trust her brother’s instinct.

“See you soon.” Altan cringed as he backed away. He hadn’t meant for that last bit to come out. Luckily, when he glanced back at the guard, the man still wasn’t paying attention. Without another word, Altan started back up the winding stairs, nodding to his allies waiting up top. 

“Good work.” Cinlat’s praise stopped Altan from admitting the embarrassing part about him nearly blowing it all at the end. 

The smaller woman started through the crowd, shoving people away from her. Grumbles halted as soon as they saw her faceplate. Before following, Caldus pressed Altan’s helmet into his hand, then gave a gruff snort of approval. At least, that is how Altan chose to take it. No one ever actually knew what went on in his brother’s head.

When Altan had replaced his helmet and removed the arm band he felt a pang of disappointment. It felt like losing a character from a book, except that character had been him. For a moment, Altan had been someone important, a respected member of a crime lord’s staff who had been allowed behind the inner workings of a fighting arena.

With a sigh, Altan tugged his hood over his helm to further hide his real identity and slipped back into being the quietly odd Togruta that he’d always been. It was a relief to reach the private box that Mako had secured, as all the subterfuge and swapping out of personas left him exhausted.

 “I didn’t mean offense. You know that, right?” Caldus leaned against the wall behind where Altan sat. He’d known this conversation was coming. There was a plea in the big man’s voice. Like he was afraid that anyone he angered would turn on him. Altan supposed Caldus expected everyone to betray him eventually. 

Altan activated his speakers with a sigh. ”I understand, ori’vod.” Though, no one seemed to understand that it wasn’t just the Beroya shadow Altan needed to step out from under, but his disability too. Even though he’d stopped wearing the mark on his helmet, Caldus still saw it.

Audible relief filtered through their private line and Altan firmed his tone. “But, I’m not a child. If I need to step back, I decide when that is. Understood?” He didn’t want to have this argument again. He needed Caldus to respect him as an adult, otherwise, no one else would. 

Silence stretched between them. Altan didn’t have  to see his brother’s face to know he was scowling, teeth grinding while he decided if a rebuttal was worth the long winded bickering that always followed. “I know,” Caldus finally answered. Then, more defeated, “I know.”

The sounds of battle rang from below, but Altan had no interest in the fights themselves. From what he’d seen, they were all bulky males and females like his brother. Most were alien, a few he couldn’t put a name to. So, he spent most of the fights identifying and learning about those. 

While Altan spent his time on the net, Caldus loomed in the corner opposite Verin and Cinlat. His arms were still crossed, fists clenched as he watched the display below. Only Altan would have noticed the occasional flinch or twitch. 

”You want to see something entertaining?” Verin called from where he leaned on his elbows, looking over the railing. Cinlat had perched on the edge of a stool with her feet propped next to him.

Altan closed his program and moved closer. They were dragging one of competitors away, a long streak of green tracing his path. Verin’s vizor faced Altan. “Fynta is next.” Even Caldus straightened for a better vantage, though he didn’t leave his corner.

If memory served, Fynta was smaller than most of the combatants and without the inherent armour and natural weapons that many of those had been born with. She was human, with weak skin, small muscles, and no claws or teeth. Altan knew Fynta had won several of these to get to this match, so he was interested in her fighting style. Perhaps it could compliment his own since he didn't have a lot of bulk either.

As soon as new sand was spread over the residual fluids, gates opened to reveal the final champions. The crowd roared to life, heckling, encouraging, or simply propositioning. A few bottles landed in the sands, and laughter rang out when Fynta picked one up, tried to drink, only to hurl the empty thing back at the crowd with a demand for something better. 

Now that he’d done more research, Altan realized that the Trandoshan entering opposite from Fynta was also female. She stood well over a head taller than Fynta, with claws that glistened under the harsh lighting and sharp teeth poking between her lips. The Tradoshan paid no mind to the audience that Fynta riled up. Her black eyes were locked on her target, violence imminent. 

”She’s going to get shredded,” Caldus remarked on their private line. “No way Fynta walks away the victor.”

Altan didn’t answer. Verin didn’t look concerned. In fact, Cinlat seemed more relaxed now than he’d seen her since their arrival. Those two knew something Caldus didn’t, and Altan desperately wanted to figure out what.

The fight started quickly. Fynta still had her back to her opponent when the Trandoshan roared. In a movement so fluid it looked choreographed, Fynta ducked the swipe of claws and her cybernetic leg connected with the female’s shin. When the Trandoshan spun with a snarl Fynta hurled a hand full of sand into her opponent's face. 

The Trandoshan staggered back with another guttural noise that was probably a curse, the leg Fynta had kicked giving out momentarily. Fynta used the female’s momentum against her, diving forward to ram her shoulder into the Trandoshan’s stomach. 

Cinlat tisked. “Sloppy.” 

Caldus’s helmet swiveled towards the small woman at the same time as Altan’s. He thought the move looked flawless. Verin chuffed a laugh. “She nearly added some new scars to her collection.”

When Altan turned back towards the fight, he understood. Fynta threw herself backward, narrowly missing the claws as the downed female swung blindly at the last place she’d sensed her foe. “She should have kept her distance,” Altan guessed.

Cinlat nodded, but she didn’t comment further. A little tension had entered the woman’s posture, and that made Altan nervous. Suddenly, Fynta looked even smaller, and he wasn’t sure if he could keep watching.

”She’ll pull it off.” Verin patted his wife’s thigh without taking his attention off the fight. Altan took a deep breath and made himself look, because he wouldn’t learn if he didn’t. Whether it was from her victory or mistakes remained to be seen.

Before the Trandoshan could regain her feet, Fynta darted close again and landed a solid kick to the female’s head with her prosthetic. Altan would have protected that leg as a weakness if he’d been in her position, but Fynta wielded her missing leg like a weapon.

This time, Fynta didn’t pull back when her opponent landed on her back, but pushed the attack. Altan would even call her relentless. Blood spread across Fynta’s knuckles as she rained blows on the Trandoshan’s sensitive spots, the eyes, nostrils, and ear holes, but Altan wasn’t sure who that blood belonged to. It looked like the fight might be won until the female managed to get her hands around Fynta’s throat. She hurled the smaller human to the side, Fynta landing in the sands with a grunt.

Both women scrambled to their feet, and the traditional circling began.

”It was a good start,” Caldus mused over his speakers for all to hear. “But, the Trandoshan knows her tactics now.”

This time, Verin snorted and straightened. He pressed his fists into his back and arched it with a groan. “Boy, not even Fynta knows her own tactics until she’s in motion.”

Altan didn’t think that was true, but he had to admit to a certain adaptability to the way she fought. Rolling, shoving, dodging, punching. Whatever opening Fynta found, she exploited. Altan really wanted to spar with her, to understand how she made such rapid adjustments. He was also a little afraid of her, so would probably never ask.

As the Trandoshan began to tire, Fynta made her move. The female stumbled forward when her foot sank into a miniature sand dune pushed into place by Fynta’s circling. She leapt on the female’s back, arm latched around the thick neck and locked on the other side. Fynta’s legs wrapped around the Trandoshan's waist and she jerked backward. Altan thought he heard the snap even over the crowd’s cheers, but he knew it was his mind filling in the gaps. 

They fell as one, the Trandoshan landing on Fynta, red tongue lolling out from between those sharp teeth that had never found their mark. Fynta’s legs unravelled from around her opponent, then she kicked the female to the side and stumbled onto her feet with fists raised. The crowd roared with excitement as Fynta was announced the new reigning champion of the sands. Bidding would open in an hour, please see the ladies at the exits to collect any winnings.

Just like that, the fight was over, and the crowd began to press towards the doors.