#grumpy space cat

Once they reached the palace, Verin took the lead as the only one who had ever been there before. The main room boasted the expected sticky floor and slouched drunkards. An odd mixture of decadent fabrics and plush furniture combined with the sort of depravity that made his skin crawl. 

Verin didn’t linger, at least, but turned down the left corridor and up a flight of stairs. They moved unhindered until deep within the palace. Caldus thought that was a serious oversight in security. They were two floors up before running into their first checkpoint. Caldus wondered how big this palace was, and where the Hutt who owned it lived.

”State your business.” The Gammorrean grunted, leaning around to see the hutball game on the screen behind them.

Verin held his datapad in front of its face. Caldus realized he wasn’t sure if the creature in front of him was male or female. The guard blinked at the small screen, pretended it could read, then waved them on. 

Caldus caught a glimpse of Verin’s ticket as he tucked it away. A Pleasure Pass valued at nearly four thousand credits. For all her sneering about the business, Mako managed to snag them a top class entry. 

After counting off the rooms, Verin stopped and knocked twice, paused, then added a third before tapping his datapad against the locking mechanism. Caldus heard movement on the other side and held his arm out in front of Altan to stop the younger man from following. The resulting clang that had Verin stumbling backward from the room he’d entered brought Caldus unending satisfaction.

”Shab Fyn’ika,” Verin huffed from where he sat in the middle of the hallway. “Good thing my buc’ye was still on.”

The woman in question stormed from the room with a heavy bottle raised above her head. She stopped, dark brows raised. “Verin? What the hell are you doing here?” Deep blue found Caldus and Altan, her head tipping back. “And who are these beasts?”

A snarl slipped free from Caldus before he realized she was remarking on their size rather than their species. He still wore his helmet, and Altan was half hidden behind him so she couldn’t have made him for a Togruta yet. Caldus swallowed his retort and clamped his lips shut. 

“We’re here to rescue you.” Verin shoved up from the floor without the aid of those standing around him. “Didn’t you hear me knock?”

Fynta lowered her weapon, then jerked her head for them to move into the room. Verin harrumphed his way inside, while Caldus and Altan followed at a more respectful distance. He wasn’t sure that Fynta could reach his head without aid, but the parts she could reach he’d prefer to keep unassaulted. 

Once the door snapped shut, Fynta dropped the bottle on an overstuffed chair and set about drying her hair. It was only then that Caldus realized she wore little more than a sports bra and shorts. She had the kind of brown skin Caldus remembered seeing on workers who spent their lives in the sun. Her black hair was a matted mess of wet tangles that she attacked with a brush as if it were her nemesis. Caldus also noted that there was indeed a target tattoo surrounding a nasty bruise on her right eye. 

Upon closer inspection, Caldus could pick out the similarities between the Wolfe siblings, though Verin’s coloring was lighter all around. They shared those odd, ocean deep eyes, nose, and both looked to be well muscled and stocky. Caldus couldn’t keep his eyes from straying to the impressive set of abs emphasized by how little she wore. To say nothing of the definition of her thighs and arms. Then, he noticed the cybernetic that replaced her left leg from the knee down and glanced at his brother. Unsurprisingly, Altan’s gaze had locked on that. Caldus doubted the Togruta had even noticed the woman’s face.

“They took my comm,” Fynta huffed, waving the hairbrush now clogged with black strands at her brother. “I was going to get it from Cin tonight so I could let—our contact know that we move tomorrow.”

”Speaking of my lovely wife, where is she?” Verin removed his helmet and leaned a hip on the edge of the table, watching his sister with a warmth that made Caldus realize how much fear the man had bottled up on their trip here. It annoyed Caldus to find common ground with the hunter, but he had to admire Verin's poise. If Altan were in this situation, Caldus would be beside himself with—he shook his head, it didn’t bear consideration.

Still, Caldus couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what it meant to be an adult. He was heading towards his mid-twenties and still felt the need to ask Valk if he could go out for drinks with the guys. Even on this trip, he’d taken a backseat and let Verin make the decisions because he seemed to know what he was doing. Would that be Caldus one day? Would he wake up and find the galaxy made sense?

“She’ll be here soon,” Fynta answered, finally giving up on her hair and tossing the brush in the same direction as her improvised weapon. “She’s getting me some untainted food.” 

As if summoned, another set of coded knocks echoed from the door. Fynta shooed her brother out of her way and tapped the latch button to admit Cinlat. Verin rushed forward to take the bags from the tiny figure who entered behind him. 

Somehow, Caldus had envisioned the famed bounty hunter to be a giant. The larger than life winner of the Great Hunt some decade or so ago. This woman in the red and black beskar’gam didn’t even reach his chest. 

After pressing his forehead to his wife’s helmet, Verin dropped the bags on the table and dug through them. “Have they tried to drug you?”

”Succeeded once,” Cinlat answered, her voice deep and robotic through the helmet speakers. “I found her hunched over the toilet with half her hand down her throat and a fever that would have killed anyone with more brain cells."

Fynta shrugged and snagged a wrapped sandwich from her brother. “Still not sure what that was. It passed all the tests.”

Cinlat made a noise that Caldus couldn’t decipher and turned towards him. “You must be Beroya’s boys.”

Caldus dipped his head out of respect, but he wasn’t ready to join the conversation yet. There was a lot to process in this room. The woman they were joining forces sounded…chaotic. Caldus needed a moment to take it all in and decide if this contract was worth the risks if this was the normal life Fynta led.

Then again, Cinlat and Verin were revered. Even Fynta had a reputation that Mando’ade whispered about. Apart from being a massive brute who could track game, Caldus had no such clout. He would never get any either unless he took risks. Fynta seemed to attract plenty of those.

 Verin invaded his sister's personal space, trying to examine the blackened eye. She batted him away, even going so far as to plant her natural foot in his stomach and shove. The man folded his arms and frowned. “What happened?”

“Zigged when I should have zagged.” When Verin’s frown deepened, Fynta rolled her eyes like the petulant little sister she’d probably been. “It’s the Pits, di’kut, what do you think happened?”

When Verin only huffed in response, Fynta went back to the bag for seconds. “We’ll call it a lesson learned.” 

Caldus heard Altan’s stomach rumble and made a mental note to find something to eat when they were done here. Fynta beat him to it, holding out a wrapped skewer towards the Togruta. “It’s probably a rodent. Helps not to sniff it before you eat.” 

To Caldus’s surprise, Altan accepted, and the skewer vanished into the depths of his hood. Fynta made no remark on the odd behavior, but continued her story while crumpling up the empty bag. “Tomorrow is the auction fight. Once I win, I’ll be taken to the platform where our source says the kids are.”

”You’re sure about this?” Verin’s brows pulled together, a strange expression crossing his face. Now that he was back with his wife and sister, the easy going facade that he’d presented to everyone at the enclave slipped.

For his part, Caldus’s attention perked up at the mention of auctioning off kids. Even Altan had gone completely still, the half eaten skewer dangling from his fingers. 

”I confirmed it when I got here.” Cinlat leaned against Verin’s side, and he slid an arm around her. “It’s the only reason I’m still here.”

Fynta gestured at the two hunters with the remains of her sandwich. “Once I figure out where they are being kept, we can figure out how to get them off world.”

”Can our Friend help out,” Verin asked his wife, before settling his glare on Fynta. “Since it’s kind of her fault we’re in this situation in the first place. She should’ve known better than to give half baked intel to Fynta.” 

Cinlat’s helmet angled as well, and Caldus felt like he was missing an entire portion of this conversation. Fynta threw her hands up, crumpling the food wrapper in the process. “We would've taken the job eventually. I just did the heavy lifting.”

An audible sigh wheezed through Cinlat’s speakers, and Caldus resisted the urge to smirk. “Regardless,” the hunter began. “Yes, I have contacts. Now, we just need to get into the fights so we can offer backup.”

”About that.” Verin gestured at Altan with the hand not hugging his wife close. “It seems our boy here is good at more than sharpshooting.”

At the sudden shift of attention, Altan slinked deeper into his hood. He didn’t edge behind Caldus, though. Clearly, the Togruta wanted to stand alone, he just didn’t want to be perceived while doing so. Caldus flexed his fingers to resist stepping in front of his brother.

”He has a little friend on planet,” Verin continued as if he didn’t notice Altan’s discomfort. That irritated Caldus, though he swallowed his grumblings. “She got us in here tonight and a VIP box next to an exit.”

”Smart girl,” Cinlat commented. 

An alert chimed on Verin’s datapad, a warning that his time with the champion was at an end. The man stood and strode across the room to where his sister leaned against her desk. “We’ll find a way to communicate with you during the fight. Whatever happens, roll with it.” 

“I always do,” the woman grinned back. 

Verin rolled his eyes, then wrapped one hand around Fynta’s neck and bumped their foreheads. “Stay out of trouble until then.”

Fynta chuckled and shoved him away. “Ori’pel.”

With a snort, Verin waved for everyone to head out. Caldus waited until Cinlat was between him and Verin before following, but paused when he realized that Altan hadn’t moved. The Togruta reached up and lowered his hood, dipping his head. “It was nice meeting you.”

”Likewise,” Fynta beamed, surprising Altan into a smile of his own. Then, he covered himself with the hood again and scurried after Verin and Cinlat.

Caldus stared at the woman for a moment longer. Fynta met his visor’s gaze easily. “What’s up, Cabur?” He frowned at the word. Caldus had been with Valk and Jos for seven years. He spoke Mando’a fluently, but word usage varied from clan to clan.

“Good luck, tomorrow.” Caldus ducked through the door before Fynta could answer, straightening on the other side. “Where to now?”

”I’d like to talk to Mako again,” Altan chimed, then more forcefully. “I think she might be able to help us with our communication issue with Fynta.”

”Then that’s where we go.” Cinlat’s voice rasped through the speakers, and Caldus couldn’t help but wonder what she looked and sounded like beneath the armour. Clearly, she used the armour to hide her identity. It wasn’t unheard of, but becoming more rare. Even the official Hunt records only ever pictured the woman inside a completely sealed set of beskar’gam. 

The group walked in silence through the palace, just four Mandalorians looking for a good time. Once outside, Cinlat paused, her vizor tilting up at Caldus, then over to Altan. He saw the moment his claws caught her attention. 

“You Cathar?” The fact that she’d figured it out so quickly had Caldus nodding in agreement before he could stop himself. When she looked over at Altan, her next statement carried more weight. “I heard Jos and Valk had taken in a couple of alien boys, but that is unexpected.” 

Caldus remained silent, so Verin answered. “We aren’t allowed to ask.”

“It was better than being an Imperial slave,” Caldus answered, mostly to spite Verin. While the man had been nothing but friendly, he rubbed Caldus the wrong way.

”That’s fair,” Cinlat answered and didn’t ask for more. The tension in Caldus’s shoulders relaxed a modicum that she didn’t expect the full story from him. 

As they walked, Caldus glanced at his brother every so often, noting that he’d been buried in his datapad since they left. Finally, Altan took up position on the opposite side of Verin, placing both hunters between the brothers. “You’ve done this often. Freed slaves.” It wasn’t a question that required an answer, but Cinlat gave a sharp nod of her helmet.

To his knowledge, Caldus was the only slave freed by Mandalorians. They were allied with the Empire, where owning other beings was not only legal, but a sign of status. Seeing others from a different clan doing so caused an unwelcome bloom of hope in him. Caldus crushed it immediately and changed the subject. “What do we do for the rest of the night?” 

Verin took the lead as they crossed the threshold into the noisy cantina. Weaving through the back hallways with Cinlat and Altan falling behind and Caldus slumping into the rear. “We plan,” Verin answered while looking over his shoulder. Whatever else he might have added turned into a strangled yelp when the hum of an energy blade hovered at his throat. 

Caldus pulled his blaster at the same time as Cinlat and Altan. He might not enjoy Verin’s company, but he’d be damned if the man got himself killed on his watch. A treacherous voice warned that if Fynta was as careless as her brother, then the mission was already a failure. Caldus crushed that thought too. He needed this to work. 

The woman who pinned Verin against the wall was no bigger than Cinlat, with dark hair and angry pale eyes. It was the green beam of energy that held Caldus’s attention, though. “Who are you? More of his lackeys?” Her hissed words were accompanied by a flash of blunt teeth.

Verin’s hands raised slowly. “We might be in the wrong room.”

”Release him, or I’ll add a new hole to that pretty face, girl,” Cinlat snarled. For all her aloofness earlier, Caldus caught the undercurrent of possession. He couldn’t pretend to understand the older couple, but there was no doubt that Verin belonged to her.

”Whoa, what the—“ Mako ran into the room, shoving Altan’s arm away when he tried to bar her path. “Easy, these are friendlies. Sheesh, I leave for five minutes and you’re all ready to kill each other.”

The woman with the energy blade eased back, but she didn’t release Verin. “You know these Mandalorians, Mako?”

”Yeah, well, mostly.” Mako’s brown eyes widened when they landed on the newest member of the group. “No way, you’re Cinlat. I’ve read all about your tactics. Do you mind if I pick your brain a little? This is our champion for the Great Hunt, Noara Naberrie, and I’d love to get a professional’s opinion.”

”Only if she lets my husband go.” Cinlat’s voice remained tight, her blaster still leveled on the younger woman. Caldus appreciated the lack of shake in her hold. 

Finally, the dark haired woman deactivated her weapon and pushed away from Verin. “Sorry, we’ve run into some bad luck with Mandalorians lately.” The hardness in those icy blue eyes made it clear enough what kind of troubles she meant. A hypothesis confirmed when Mako’s shoulders slumped and her mood dulled.  

The woman looked to her friend. “Are you okay with them? I need to—do something.” If she was a contender for the Hunt, Caldus didn’t blame her for being discreet. 

Caldus tracked Fynta all the way to the fresher, his molten eyes burning with disdain until they vanished behind the closed door. She didn’t bother pretending that she wasn’t going to listen and pressed her ear to the hollow material in time to hear the Cathar’s rumbling growl. 

“You got a crush on her?” A loud thump indicated that Caldus had made it to the bed.

Altan’s answer was softer, almost ashamed. “She’s our ally. There is no point in alienating her.”

”She’s a fucking human.” The venom behind those words painted a clear picture. Verin had told Fynta about the Cathar’s comment to Cinlat. That it was better being feared in beskar than a slave to Imperials. 

“She’s using you,” Caldus spat, followed by the rattle of bottles. “Don’t let your guard down.”

”She’s not the one treating me like a child,” Altan snapped, then took a deep breath. “I’m an asset to her, not someone she had to protect.”

Caldus’s snarled response was too low to translate through the fresher door. Fynta decided to make her entrance while Altan was still brave enough to face off with his brother. She imagined being a quiet man in Clan Vizla meant his opinions were often drowned out by their noise. 

Throwing open the door, Fynta stretched as she crossed the room. She ignored Caldus’s glare and reclaimed her seat on the floor next to Altan. He offered her the datapad, eyes still fixed on his brother, and Fynta sent the armour request to Solus. Caldus sat forward, his knee jabbing into Fynta’s shoulder. She gave it a shove and the grumpy bastard spread out more. 

”Now that everyone is here,” Fynta started, refusing to look at the Cathar. “Shall we go over these files?” 

That got Caldus’s attention at least. Altan’s too. 

They stopped glaring at one another long enough to move closer to her. Fynta opened the holo program on her datapad and entered the password that Keeper had included in their hiring packet. “Where should we start?”

Altan reached forward, hesitating until Fynta moved the datapad closer to him, then scanned through the items. “There were four other teams before us, one was an Imperial Spec Ops group. There should be body-cam footage.”

A few more swipes, and the Togruta’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Nothing. That’s odd.” Even with full access, the contract was vague. Altan’s brows drew together. “Just this file from nearly a month ago, no label.”

”Play it,” Caldus rumbled, dropping what Fynta realized was an empty beer bottle onto the floor beside her. He sighed and leaned over her shoulder to see the screen. “Maybe it will show us what we’re up against.” 

Caldus’s thigh pushed against Fynta’s shoulder, but she refused to be moved. The haze of alcohol seemed to clear from his eyes by the second, leaving Fynta impressed with how quickly the man sobered, maybe even a little jealous.

Tapping the file, Fynta ignored the blatant posturing at her back and focused on the shaky images of a dark room. “Is that flashing light a marquee?” Altan asked, brown eyes narrowed at the screen. 

Fynta hadn’t considered the lighting, she was too focused on the figures within the smoke-filled space. Sure enough, it flashed through a series of neon colors consistent with advert boards. “Whatever this is, it's been on Nar Shaddaa the entire time.” It was a small clue, but helped establish a timeline and sequence of events. If their quarry had been there from the beginning, then it was unlikely her small team needed to watch the spaceport. 

Fynta started to nudge Altan’s shoulder, then settled for a smile. “Good catch.”

The scene illuminated, triggering a hiss from Caldus, but Fynta was transfixed. “That looked like lightning.” A mountainous creature stepped into frame briefly, snarling words Fynta couldn’t translate, but she swore she felt the vibrations through the feed. Curses filled the audio, accompanied by blaster fire from multiple directions, then the feed cut out. 

They sat there staring at the blank screen. Thirty seconds of chaos and nightmare fuel, but no answers. Finally, Cladus voiced what they were all thinking. ”What the fuck was that?” 

“May I?” Altan asked, palm open and stretched towards Fynta. 

She relinquished the datapad and leaned closer to Altan while he scrolled manually through the footage. It meant she leaned against his shoulder, but the Togruta didn’t tense this time, so Fynta didn’t back up. She wanted to see what his eye had caught that hers missed. 

Altan’s finger slid slowly along the motion bar, pausing on the half revealed monstrosity. It looked like nothing Fynta had seen before. Yellow skin stretched across slabs of thick muscle that made Caldus look ordinary. It was the red glowing eyes and vicious looking fangs that captured Fynta’s attention, though. 

“I think…” Altan rubbed his mouth, the lines of his brows pulling together. “I think it's a Dashade.”

“A what?” Fynta and Caldus asked in unison. They shared a look, his irritated and hers probably irritating. 

Altan ignored them, transfixed by that blurry image. “An ancient creature on the verge of extinction.” 

Setting the footage aside, Altan collected his personal device and scrolled until he landed on what he was looking for. When he turned it towards them, Caldus leaned over Fynta, his breath a distraction against her neck. The Cathar had made his distaste for humans clear, but that didn’t stop her from appreciating the mountain of man at her back. 

“They are Force resistant,” Altan explained, pulling the datapad back to himself when neither of his companions looked at the information it displayed. “I remember reading about them a few years back when I was studying Sith Ancestry. Once a mighty warrior species turned assassins for the Sith.”

A low rumble vibrated against Fynta’s shoulder and she was sure it did not have the desired effect. Thankfully, Caldus didn’t seem to notice. “So they fucked around with a Dashade. Now it’s loose. Fantastic.” The Cathar chuffed and straightened, leaving Fynta chilled without his inhuman body heat. 

“It’s flesh and blood, just like anything else.” Fynta took a shaky breath and forced herself to focus on the real threat in the room instead of her hormones. Though, capturing the thing alive looked like a distant priority now. Dead with proof might have to be enough. 

”It’s also an endangered species,” Altan argued, his voice firming the same way it had when they discussed his skill with a rifle. “Whatever they did to him is not his fault.”

Fynta saw the heart of a boy, then. The young man who’d somehow remained gentle despite the way he’d come into his family. She risked a look at Caldus, and for once, didn’t find fury in those bright eyes. The Cathar ran a hand down his face and sighed. “It might not be its fault, but it still needs to be put down.”

“Why?” Altan jabbed a finger at the screen. “Because whoever created it says so?” 

Before either of them could answer, the Togruta shoved to his feet with unnatural grace. “I need to stretch my legs.”

Caldus started to stand, but Fynta elbowed his calf and shook her head. To her surprise, the grumpy Cathar flopped back onto the mattress. She waited until Altan was clear of the door before adding more. “Let him sort out his feelings. I have faith that he’ll do the right thing when the time comes.”

“He’s been like that since I’ve known him.” Caldus snorted. “Protect the ant hill, feed the strays, rescue the downtrodden. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that it extends to monsters.”

Climbing to her feet, Fynta arched her back until her spine popped, then looked around. “Hey, where’d you put those beers?” She found them before Caldus could answer and snagged one from the bag next to his boot.

The Cathar settled against the headboard of his bed, golden eyes focusing on her with a predator's intensity. “Those are mine.” 

”Right,” Fynta smacked the top of the bottle against a ridge on her prosthetic with a grin. Then, she lifted it in cheers. “Thanks.”

A long breath escaped through Caldus’s nostrils as he produced a blade. Fynta lifted a brow at the open threat, then added the other when a block of foam appeared next. “Since I’m sober now, hand me one too.”

Fynta obliged, setting the bottle on the table that separated their beds. Long curls of foam drifted into the cloth spread across Caldus’s lap. Those massive hands with their sharp claws cradled the foam block with practiced care. Fynta wondered what it would become, and if he’d show her when it was finished.

Fynta must have hovered too long because Caldus slowly raised his eyes. “What?” 

“How much can you drink before you feel it?” Fynta propped her shoulder against the wall, pretending that she wasn’t more interested in what he was creating. If she asked directly, the stubborn Cathar would shut down and she’d never find out what it was.

Caldus must have read the challenge between Fynta’s words, because he flashed a few too many teeth to be friendly. “Don’t try it, human. You wouldn’t survive.”

Fynta renewed her grin, pleased to have an interaction that didn’t involve snarls—yet. “Don’t you know it’s instinctual for a Mandalorian to push her limits?” To prove her point, Fynta let her gaze slip down Caldus’s body. Even with his back to the wall, the man’s feet nearly reached the end of the bed. One of his thighs was as large as her waist, and fierfek, those arms.

A snarl rolled through Caldus, snapping Fynta’s attention up to his eyes. His teeth were bared, those burning embers filled with more rage than she deserved. Fynta was rarely innocent, but she hadn’t even begun to be a big enough pain in Caldus’s ass to warrant that glare. Then, the Cathar’s chest expanded, nostrils flaring in a deliberate inhale.

Shab.

The curse had barely rolled through her mind before the realization landed. Cathar senses were legendary, which meant there was a real chance that Caldus could scent exactly where her thoughts had wandered.

Caldus clicked his teeth, eyes narrowed. Finally, Fynta understood.

The tension between them pulled taut, nothing but the hum of the yacht’s engines to fill the silence. She took a step closer, and Caldus rumbled another warning. Testing her limits was fun, but this felt different. She wasn’t just annoying him, she was provoking. That had never been the plan.

Raising her hands, Fynta steadied her voice to hide the pounding of her heart. “Listen, we need to get this sorted before we get to Nar Shaddaa.”

Caldus didn’t hesitate. “Sort what out?” Judging by the Cathar’s tone, he understood and was being an ass. 

”This.” Fynta gestured between them, refusing to rise to the bait. “Whatever this animosity is.” Though, she supposed she couldn’t blame the man. Not if her suspicion was true and he could physically scent her moods. Fierfek, that was going to complicate things. 

Fynta continued before Caldus could speak. “Otherwise, someone is going to get hurt. With our luck, it’ll be Altan.”

Caldus was off his bed in a heartbeat, and Fynta nearly flinched back. She caught herself at the last moment and forced a glare up at the Cathar. She’d faced deadlier men than him. He wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her unbalanced. Altan was a trigger though, that she filed away for later.

Chest heaving, Caldus straightened to full height, blade and foam block forgotten on his bed, the shavings he’d meticulously collected scattered across the floor. “I don’t trust humans,” he managed between gritted teeth. Fynta didn’t miss the symbolism of his discarded weapon either. He could kill her without one. She let that slide off her without acknowledgment. 

”That’s probably fair,” Fynta agreed, lifting an eyebrow in challenge when he leaned into her personal space. Each interaction gave her more of his measure. Caldus used his size and species to intimidate, trying to crowd her out. It was a brute tactic mostly likely learned at the hands of brutes.

Fynta took a step closer, intentionally invading the Cathar’s space to show that she wouldn’t be so easily cowed. “Are you willing to risk Altan’s safety over it?” When Caldus tipped his head, their faces now inched apart, Fynta continued. “We are going up against a veritable myth, something I didn’t even know existed until ten minutes ago. You and I need to be in sync, trust each other to do the job we were hired for. If you can’t manage that alongside a human, then sell your portion of the contract and go home.”

Finally, Caldus relaxed his posture, straightening without relinquishing the gap between them. Those same fingers that held the foam so carefully now curled into tight fists at his sides. He took a shaky breath.  “What do you suggest?”

Fynta wasn’t interested in a game of dominance, she just wanted to know if it all went to osik, he’d have her back. So, she took a step away, releasing the tension in her shoulders and legs so that her stance matched his. They entered an awkward stalemate of sorts. “Apart from being human, what am I doing to piss you off?”

That shabbing lip pulled back again, but the answer carried more honesty than Fynta expected. “The way you look at me, it reminds me of them.” 

Fynta had no concrete evidence who them was, but given the pieces of conversation she’d managed to drag out of the surly bastard she assumed his owners; human owners. Another piece of the puzzle dropped into place and she didn’t like the picture it built. Because the way she looked at him had nothing to do with possession, but appreciation of an impressive physique. 

“Shab.” The word slipped out, hot rage flooding Fynta’s system. Another growl started somewhere deep inside Caldus, but she spoke before he could interpret her outrage as pity. “Listen, I'm Mando'ade. I live shereshoy, and I have a type.”

The sound built, rolling up his chest. Caldus tensed his shoulders like he might throw a punch. “And what is that?”

”Strength,” Fynta answered simply, getting the word out before he escalated. She had no reason to be ashamed of her preferences. Male or female, Fynta had always been a sucker for anyone who could put her on her shebs in a fight. While she hadn’t tested it, Caldus fit that description. 

When the Cathar raised both brows, Fynta forced a grin. “I like people who can go toe to toe with me. Shereshoy. Any day could be my last, so I’m going to live like it is.” When Caldus opened his mouth, Fynta held up a hand. “That said, I’ll do my best to rein in the flirting for you.”

The steady rumble stilled, but Caldus's eyes narrowed. Fynta took another step back and lifted her hands where he could see them, yielding this particular argument. “You are your own man, Caldus. I won’t let anyone take that from you.”

”Not even you,” Caldus spat, though Fynta thought his tone might have carried a little less malice.

With a smile that echoed none of the lecherous thoughts she’d entertained before, Fynta thrust her hand into the space between them. “Especially me. Be’mev, vod.”

Caldus snapped his mouth shut when the door opened to reveal Altan. He had his face buried in the datapad as he walked, oblivious to the tension between her and his brother. With a huff, Caldus gripped Fynta’s forearm in a truce, then flopped back onto his bed and collected the knife and block. She called it as much of a win as she was likely to get.

“How do you think it got out?” Altan asked as he wove through the piles of electronics he’d left behind.

Fynta picked up his line of thought as a sort of peace offering to Caldus. He clearly didn’t want to discuss whatever brewed between them, so Fynta shoved it to the side for when it became a problem again. “Did anyone else notice the lightning? That reeks of Sith.”

”But were they attacking it or helping it escape?” Caldus added. Now that he wasn’t snarling like a deranged akk hound, his timbre had settled back into that lovely combination of gritty calm. Fynta forced herself not to think about it.

Instead, she settled into her professional hunter persona and pretended to be a responsible adult.  “We can’t rule either out, which means once we land, no one goes out without their armour.” The last line she aimed at Altan, who glanced up long enough to nod. 

“I’ve been monitoring Nar Shaddaa’s local news network and there haven’t been any instances of monster sightings.” Altan returned his attention to the screen, folding himself back onto the floor. “You’d think a Dashade would stand out.”

“You’ll understand when we get there,” Fynta laughed and settled into one of the chairs with her duffle. There was a small folding table behind it, and she set about arranging her solvents to begin maintenance. Caldus had given her blasters a rushed cleaning at the range before they left Dromund Kaas, but Fynta wanted to make sure they were ready when she needed them. Knowing there was possibly a Sith involved changed the way they needed to approach this mission. “Have either of you fought a Sith?”

As Fynta settled into the familiar rhythm of dismantling her weapons, Caldus answered without looking up from his carving. From stolen glances, all Fynta could make out was that it was cylindrical. “Some religious nuts on Rishi are as close as we’ve seen. They usually keep to their part of the island though.” 

“Shea had that run in with a couple last year,” Altan added. “Half the jungle was on fire before they went down. Luckily, it was monsoon season.”

Fynta laughed this time, appreciating the dry humor she hadn’t realized her companion possessed. “I’ve got to ask about the drink choices.” Fynta leaned forward to sniff at the frozen delicacy. Even from this distance, the fruit was pungent. 

“I spent most of my life eating and drinking shit.” Caldus tapped the pink drink against Fynta’s tumbler of whiskey. “This stuff is good.”

Being raised Mandalorian meant Fynta enjoyed the bitter, spicy things in life. She wouldn’t fault the Cathar for his tastes, though. With a salute, Fynta knocked hers back while Caldus sipped through a straw. 

A low growl rumbled from the other side of the table, and Caldus pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. Fynta burst out laughing, started to pat the big guy on the shoulder, then stopped herself. “Try rubbing your temples.” Her brain freeze cure received the single-eyed glare Fynta expected, and she toned her delight down to a chuckle.

It didn’t even matter that the two men at the table next to them relocated. It meant fewer people to make Fynta’s new friend feel uncomfortable. If Caldus noticed, he didn’t show it. It was becoming clearer than before what being an alien in the Empire meant. Caldus wasn’t a beautiful Twi’lek, a studious Chiss, or a powerful True Sith. He was Cathar, little more than an animal to their eyes. Fynta made a silent decision to make sure he didn’t face these places alone. At least on Nar Shaddaa, no one would care.

Caldus recovered a moment later, then nodded at Fynta’s metal leg. “What happened there?”

The prosthetic in question was braced on the highest rung of her stool, which shoved her knee between both of his when Caldus turned to have a conversation with her. Her natural leg swung lazily, but the prosthetic was too heavy. 

Fynta signaled for another drink, then fixed her partner with a challenging stare. “Story for a story?”

Caldus took a moment to consider, then nodded. “Within reason.” He didn’t sound nearly as drunk as Fynta thought he should be, and that annoyed her because she was definitely buzzed. Maybe she should switch to one of those fruity drinks—or order a water.

”Lost it to a Sith.” A one-eyed man with a cybernetic eyepatch paused halfway into his seat at the recently vacated table. His gaze darted briefly to Fynta as he finished lowering himself. A veteran, judging by the scars and a high-and-tight hairstyle. That ramrod posture screamed Imperial soldier, too. The man didn’t ooze the arrogance of an officer, so Fynta acted like she hadn’t noticed how his ears turned towards them. Old soldiers loved war stories, after all.

Caldus made a gesture for Fynta to continue. “That can’t be the whole story.” She saw the way the Cathar’s shoulders tensed and how he intently kept his attention on her. He’d pegged their new companion for a soldier too, she guessed. 

Fynta leaned forward and lowered her voice just to irritate the old timer. Caldus mirrored her posture, though she imagined his hearing made it a moot point. Grinning, Fynta whispered, “I won.” 

Caldus chuckled, the stripes above his eyes lifting with approval. “Well, shit, don’t leave me in suspense, woman.” When the man at the table next to them didn’t move, the Cathar’s posture relaxed a modicum. 

The way Caldus said woman didn’t sound nearly as bitter as human, so Fynta counted that as progress. “It was my first Sith contract, actually. I learned a lot of lessons from that one. Namely, make sure they are really dead before celebrating.” The man at the next table snorted whatever he had ordered in that tankard.

Fynta grimaced and rubbed the phantom ache. It didn’t bother her much these days, but talking about it reminded her of the fear and chaos that followed. She’d been young and stupid—younger and stupider—and thought herself invincible. If Verin and Cinlat hadn’t been there to drag her out of the collapsing ruins of that accursed villa, then Fynta would have been buried with the Sith and her leg.

Taking another swallow of whiskey to drown the memories, Fynta waved at Caldus. “My turn. Who taught you to shoot?” She needed to choose her words carefully with a neighbor listening in.

Caldus studied Fynta for a long moment, then gave yet another unexpected answer. “I served in the Imperial military.” When Fynta’s glass missed her mouth, Caldus offered another of those toothy grins that she was starting to appreciate. “Jos and Valk just honed my aim.”

There was a lot to unpack in that simple answer, but Fynta didn’t get the chance because this time the man at the next table spoke. “For the Empire.” His glass, a clear liquid that could be anything, lifted in Caldus’s direction.

Fynta started to tell the man off, but Caldus lifted his fruity drink in reply and offered a silent nod. The quiet that settled over their table after that unsettled Fynta. She hadn’t gotten the impression that Caldus was a patriot, but now didn’t seem like the time to ask.

“How old were you when you joined the clans?” Fynta asked, keeping her voice low and lips hidden behind her glass.

Caldus shook his head while taking another long pull on his straw. Fynta watched the frozen beverage sink further in the glass. “Not your turn.” After a moment of consideration, Caldus asked louder than necessary. “Age you made your first kill?”

“Fourteen,” Fynta answered without hesitation. Caldus not only didn’t look appalled, he didn’t even look surprised. Their eavesdropper didn’t make any noise either. “Verin and I ran into a couple of the hut’uuns responsible for the attack on our Clan. I saw them before he did and well—skira.”

Fynta felt Caldus’s low hum of understanding in her bones. It reverberated between them like a song that she wanted to learn the lyrics to. Fynta didn’t waste time with things like guilt, but it was nice to see acceptance from another person. Even Verin had been horrified at the time, berating her for being stupid. It had shown him that if he wanted her to make better choices, he needed to train her. 

“Okay, back to my last question.” Fynta pulled up the holo to see if there was anything else on the menu worth ruining her liver on. “When did you join Clan Vizla?”

The air that Caldus blew through his lips was probably more animated than he’d been the entire trip. “Nineteen, I think. I saw this skinny alien kid being hassled by some of the officers, but they stopped when they saw his helmet. I didn’t know much about Mandalorians at the time, but armour that could make humans leave aliens alone—I needed that.” 

The man at the table next to them stood silently and left. Fynta wasn’t sure if it was out of respect or outrage, but it was nice to have their corner to themselves again. She watched out of the corner of her eye to see if that old veteran went to the bouncer, but he simply settled at the bar and hunched over his drink.

Caldus watched the man too and snorted, then looked into his empty glass when his next attempt didn’t yield results. “I approached Altan,” Caldus continued even though he’d technically answered Fynta’s question. “Demanding to know what made him so special. He got Jos involved, and they purchased me from my commanding officer. I never asked for how much. Didn’t want to know.”

It confirmed what Verin had suggested, but Fynta hadn’t been aware that the military traded in slaves. She supposed it made sense. Caldus was massive and equipped with natural weapons that would make any civilian owner nervous. He couldn’t be the only one in the Empire with a collar and no one brave enough to hold it. 

“They just let you go?” Fynta placed the unmarked chits on the table and ordered two waters from the service droid.

Caldus snorted loud enough that Fynta felt it across the table. “I had kind of made myself a pain in the ass.”

Fynta’s laugh got a few glares, but the cantina was starting to empty out as the night got later. She lifted her water, easing the second glass towards Caldus, and offered a toast. “Here’s to being pains in the ass.”

”Cheers,” the Cathar agreed. When he took a drink, Caldus frowned at the water for not being sickly sweet. Fynta chuckled, but his frown grew the longer he stared. 

“I’ll never go back,” Caldus finally said so quietly that Fynta wasn’t sure if it was meant for her. Then, those blazing eyes that she enjoyed so much snapped up and there was no mistaking that he was talking to her. “I’ll die before I go back into chains.”

Fynta reached for him, then hesitated with her hand hovering above his knee. “You won’t go back.” Fynta never made promises she couldn’t keep, but this was one she’d stake her life on. Eventually, she pulled her hand back without touching him. “I’ve got your back.”

That studied expression shadowed his face again. “One more question." Fynta nodded. She had no secrets, and whatever Caldus needed to feel comfortable around her, she’d give him.

Caldus rolled the bottom of his glass on the tabletop, watching the liquid within follow that path of gravity. “What happened on that mission to Rendilli?”

Fynta didn’t hide the viciousness in her grin. “I found the rest of them.” Again, there was no judgment in those fiery eyes. “The Clan leader stole my father’s beskad that night. So, when I saw him again years later, still with the shabbing thing across his back, I volunteered to help. You know the rest.”

”And Verin has his legacy back.” Caldus lifted his glass. “Skira.”

Fynta tapped her water against his, smile never slipping. Verin kept a special display case on the Mantis for their father’s beskad, but Fynta knew her brother enjoyed taking it out from time to time. 

”We should get back to Altan.” Fynta started to rise, then swore and flopped back on the stool to order the Togruta’s snacks. “Shab, his food.”

Caldus drained his water, then dropped it to the table with enough force to make Fynta glance up from the menu. “What do you want from my brother?”

Fynta didn’t bother asking for clarification. She’d been around the Cathar enough to understand a little about how his mind worked when it came to humans. He wanted to know what her angle was. So, Fynta answered honestly. “I like him. He’s brilliant. His brain works differently, seeing angles to scenarios that I would never consider.” 

Firming her tone, Fynta narrowed her eyes and jabbed her finger at Caldus for emphasis. “And you should keep that in mind.”

”He is brilliant,” Caldus conceded, tapping a particular wrap to add to Fynta’s growing food collection. “He’s also naive and impressionable.”

Caldus saw the moment Fynta made her decision. There was a certain light that entered her eyes in the face of a challenge. Caldus inhaled, filed the various markers away unconsciously, and refused to give ground. 

Fynta stepped over Altan’s outstretched legs and smacked Caldus’s knee hard enough to sting. Then climbed over him onto the sliver of cushion Caldus hadn’t managed to cover. Once in position, the woman turned around and dropped with enough weight that her hips physically shoved Caldus out of the way. Her prosthetic grazed his knee, and Caldus lurched forward with a hiss at the sharp spike of pain that traveled down to his ankle. When he looked over to growl, only that infuriating smirk greeted him. 

Caldus huffed out a long breath, then reached over to snatch a handful of popcorn, offering a tooth-filled grin of his own when she swore and tried to elbow his arm away. Altan ignored them from his position out of reach of their scuffling, working to get the feed going. 

Fynta bared her teeth at Caldus and hugged her bowl, angling her body so that he’d have to get too familiar to steal more kernels. It dragged a reluctant chuckle from him as she settled into an awkward crouch to protect her bounty. 

"Do we know who the contenders are yet?” Fynta asked around a mouthful of popcorn. 

Altan glanced up only long enough to check the loading progress. Caldus reached down to snag his bowl, meeting Fynta’s narrowed eyes as he sat up. Slowly, the woman bent forward to set her bowl on the floor and nudged it into the place Altan’s had been.

"No one of note,” Altan answered, without acknowledging the power struggle at his back. Knowing his brother, the Togruta was completely oblivious to the exchange of snacks. “Oh, but here’s a list and it looks like Mako’s hunter made it. Her name is Noara.”

Caldus flopped an arm across the couch, balancing the bowl in his lap. “The one with the sabers.” Then, he offered Fynta another unkind grin. “The tiny human who pinned your brother to the wall on Hutta.”

“Nu draar.” Fynta leaned forward to study the screen, eyes darting over each contestant. “Why am I just hearing about this? Shab, I should have put money on her.” The image cleared and Fynta cheered. “Oh, nice Altan, turn it up.”

Caldus turned back in time to see the Hunt Master step out, roaring about glory and honor of the hunt, before introducing their candidates. “There she is.” Altan pointed at the screen with a grin, inching closer when Noara flashed into view. “I tried to find a net trail, but there wasn’t much. Just a vague article about the murder of a Jedi and a reward for his sabers offered by the council. Think that was her?”

"She’s got balls if it was,” Caldus admitted.

"And some damn fine abs,” Fynta added.

Caldus glanced at the woman beside him, taking in the intensity with which she studied the Noara. True, the little hunter wore not much more than a sports bra and low slung pants. Fynta had a point, for such a tiny thing, Noara’s muscle definition was impressive. 

It occurred to Caldus that Fynta hadn’t been placating him when she said she was attracted to strength. He took a subtle breath and froze. It was the same scent he'd caught when she'd looked at him. Relief loosened something tight in his chest, his body going light for a moment.  She’d told the truth. Her attraction to him wasn’t a personal kink. The insane woman just appreciated anyone who could throw her across a room. Given the way Noara had handled Verin, Caldus bet the little hunter fit that definition. 

Muscles that Caldus hadn’t realized were tense started to relax. The warmth pressed against his side no longer felt invasive. As subtly as he could, Caldus moved a couple of inches over to give the woman more space. Space she promptly filled by stretching out her fake leg to dangle over the edge of the cushion. Fynta didn’t acknowledge his actions, and Caldus was okay with that. 

“She vanished for a while after if it was,” Altan continued. “There isn’t another article until she showed up on Hutta.”

"Probably learning how not to cut her own leg off,” Fynta muttered, knocking on her metal foot. 

Again, a rumble of laughter surprised Caldus before he could catch it. He’d seen the scars covering Fynta’s body when she answered the door half naked on Hutta. Caldus vaguely wondered where someone her age had gotten so many, if that had shaped who she was now, or if she’d shaped them.

“That is an important skill,” Altan agreed, finally noticing his popcorn and grabbing the bowl. Caldus reached for his own handful, only to find soft fabric instead. When he looked down, the bowl was gone.

Not gone, Caldus realized, but cradled in Fynta’s arms once more. He glared, and she stared straight ahead, but those infuriating lips pulled up at the corners while she chewed. When Caldus opened his mouth to threaten the woman, she waved a hand. “Hush, it’s about to start.”

Folding his arms, Caldus glared at the screen where the competitors were taking up position. More than one gestured to Noara, the girl looking out of place amidst the heavily armoured figures surrounding the platform. 

As soon as the signal was given, Mako’s friend burst into action. The sabers hummed to life, cutting through her first victim with ease. Fynta sat forward with a cheer, popcorn bowl forgotten in her lap. Caldus snatched it before it could hit the floor while Fynta threw her arms up with another shout. 

Caldus took the moment to openly study the woman and the way his brother didn’t flinch away from her noise. Altan watched the screen with a bemused smile, jotting down notes on each participant, then marking their names off his list as each fell. 

With snacks safely in his lap again, Caldus leaned back and split his attention between his companions and the melee taking place half a galaxy away. Without looking back, Fynta grabbed a handful of the kernels, meaning she’d known the entire time that he’d reclaimed his prize, and stuffed it into her mouth. Caldus sighed but didn’t object this time.

“Hut'uunla nari!” Fynta shouted when a Gamorrean pinned Noara with a less than legal move. Somehow, the small woman got back to her feet. The Gamorrean didn’t. 

Fynta’s fingers groped for another handful of popcorn while she swore at the screen. This time, Caldus moved the bowl closer. Her tirade didn’t end until the final person fell, leaving Noara the last one standing. 

Fynta leapt to her feet with a cheer, but Caldus noticed the way Noara blinked at the carnage around her, her mask slipping for a moment. Then, she straightened to receive her reward, emotion wiped from her face. If Caldus hadn’t met the woman in person, he might not have seen it. 

Falling back onto the couch, Fynta fanned her face and chuckled. “Shab, I need to buy that woman a drink." 

Caldus rolled his eyes, finding it easier to tolerate Fynta’s blatant innuendos now that he understood their source. Mainly, that they weren’t only aimed at him. “Speaking of which, anyone up for the cantina?”

”I’ll go. My treat.” Fynta hopped from the sofa to grab her jacket while Caldus went for his boots. In truth, he was glad she wanted to join him. When Caldus scoped it out that first day, the only patrons had been human. He wasn’t ready to put himself under that much scrutiny and Fynta was the only human he had on hand. Maybe her presence would dampen their disdain.

“Deal,” Caldus agreed. Let the woman buy him booze, she might finally get her answer about how much he could drink. 

While sliding into her jacket, Fynta looked down at Altan where he still sat on the floor. “Want me to bring back snacks?”

Altan’s grin made Fynta chuckle. Caldus knew his brother didn’t drink, but he wished the man would come with them. Having two aliens would be less awkward. But, Altan would be happier staying in the room, likely studying Nar Shaddaa or brushing up on Sith lore now that they had an idea of what waited for them on the Hutt moon.

Pulling on her single boot, Fynta offered a closed fist to Altan. He answered in kind, bumping his fingers lightly to hers. Caldus realized that this was a side of his brother he’d never seen. The part of Altan that didn’t need him to guide or protect. He’d developed a friendship with Fynta on his own. Altan had known Mako was on Hutta, and had kept his childhood friendship with Jurr going without anyone knowing. Maybe Caldus was the one who should be taking notes.

“Should I wait up?” Altan called, datapad already in his hands and empty bowl set aside.

Caldus gave a noncommittal grunt and waved over his shoulder. Fynta huffed a laugh. “Probably not. I’m going to see if I can keep up with your brother.”

“Good luck,” Altan replied, and Caldus wasn’t sure if his brother was joking or being completely serious. Either were equally possible.

Caldus stepped into the hallway first, pausing only long enough to make sure that the door shut and locked behind Fynta. He didn’t want anyone sneaking in while Altan was engrossed in another project. A thief could rob the room clean and the Togruta might not even notice if whatever he read was captivating enough.

As they walked, Caldus noted the way Fynta pressed herself to the wall. The passageways on the yacht weren’t large, and he wondered if that was her way of giving him space without making it obvious.

“Admit it,” Fynta said after a few turns. “I’m your token human at the bar, right?”

“Yup,” was all Caldus offered in reply. To his surprise, the woman chuckled. At least he wouldn’t have to pretend to carry on conversation once they arrived. If Fynta knew he was using her, that made the entire ordeal less complicated. 

The chatter of a crowd reached Caldus before the eatery came into view. He realized it was dinner time aboard the ship, and there were fewer tables than he had hoped. Fynta didn’t seem to mind. Why would she, they were all human like her. 

Fynta passed the bored security guard watching the entrance and marched directly to a high top with three empty chairs. The guard who didn’t so much as glance at Fynta narrowed his eyes at Caldus. “No trouble,” the grizzled old man grumbled. It was better to pretend that he hadn’t heard the man rather than growl the response that came to mind.

A rippling hush followed Caldus to the table, conversations only picking up again when he sat across from Fynta. It wasn't lost on him that she left the chair with its back to the wall. It annoyed him how much he appreciated it. 

“You’re going to make me pay for that comment about drinking you under the table, aren’t you?” Fynta asked while scrolling through the menu set into the center of the table. She managed to make it feel like a perfectly normal question, taking Caldus’s mind off the furtive glances from their fellow diners.