|
    |
Valara Vox has been nervous and at ill-ease ever since she got the group back to the safehouse. Devlin had been stabilized, but hadn't woken up. She monitored him through the night, and watched — almost horrified — as he healed before her very eyes. She sent everyone else back to base, keeping the defector at the safehouse because, well, she was going to need to call in the people who helped them.
She sits now, nervously bouncing her knees, on the steps just outside the entrance to an old warehouse down near the waterfront, but definitely outside of the tourist districts of the Old Ward. Her fingers are woven together, eyes focused down at the duracrete as minutes tick by. She looks as if she hasn't slept, still in the blaster-burned clothes and her hair still done in that bandeau. She had given the address to the contacts through the various channels, funneling it through the Irregulars of all people. Now, she waits.
Aja received the call, having remained close to the terminal where such things are communicated. Mostly, she's been waiting for a call, and when she hasn't been doing that, she's been checking the news, looking for alerts that the wrong sort of attention is coming down in her vicinity, as well as checking her credit balance. Once the call came, she alerted Galak, and then left to make the rendezvous. She's still wearing that innocuous, anonymous flight suit.
Having finally internally processed the events of the spaceport shootout, Galak has emerged from the pilot's bunk and accompanies Aja on this trip to the waterfront. He's once both intensely curious and somewhat afraid of the woman he has been working with. He knows the trip to the warehouse will likely answer questions he has, so he follows along. His flightsuit is neat and pressed, obviously cleaned since the events that transpired outside the Black Hand.
The demolitionist is on her feet perhaps a bit too hastily the the moment she spots the two familiar faces, forgetting all the cool and covert demeanors she had earned after seven years a rebel. She rubs her hands back across her hips and then she breathes out a slow breath. "Hey, uh… thanks for the quick reply." She catches the edge of her lip worriedly, and then breathes out another exhale. "Inside, yeah?" She nods to the warehouse, showing her hands because, well, let's face it… trust is earned.
Aja is not oblivious, and she's felt Galak's unease. There might have been no outward sign of what she was doing, but the pilot has worked with her long enough to know when she's acting not herself, and he's also no fool. Something has been off about the mercenary since she retreated from the field of battle. A weariness, and that same strangeness. He saw her badly injured, and yet, if he caught sight of her dressing in the communal area where they stowed their gear before they left for this meeting, he would have noticed that she bears no injured whatsoever. Aja pauses, nodding as she catches sight of Valara, glancing to Galak, before she nods, stepping into the house as directed.
Galak Klighter looks to Aja as she silently replies and then back to the large durasteel doors of the warehouse. He nods to Valara, offers a thin smile and points inside. "No time to waste. Really don't want to get seen out here." He hesitantly goes inside but glances back to the street before taking a few more steps into the interior of the building.
Valara keeps herself together as she opens the door with the required code cylinder, and holds it open for the two. This is just a storage warehouse, filled with corridors, and doors leading to storage rooms. The lights flicker on, detecting motion, and there's a light hum of environmental systems. She waits until both are in, and then she closes the door with the soft click of the lock. "It'll open from the inside," she promises. Then she frowns slightly. "My friend… he's… he's unconscious. Won't wake up, but… well…" She gestures the two to follow, starting to lead them down the hallway. "He's healed… even the internal bleeding is gone. I don't understand it." Then her gaze flickers to Aja. "But, you were with him before he got onto the truck." There's no accusation there, but question… and worry.
Aja follows the other woman's lead, eyes darting to scan the warehouse as they begin to move. She never strays too far from Galak, nor moves her hands too far from her weapons. She suffers, shall we say, from an over-abundance of caution. Silence, as she listens to Valara's words, her voice neutral, with just a hint of something that is either curiosity or wry amusement, "Your…friend, was dying, nearly dead. Is this not a better result?"
The Corellian remains quiet and watches the two speak. He follows in the hallway, noting doors and exits. He cautiously counts his footsteps, unsure of what to expect in the room they're about to enter.
"To be unconscious and won't wake up?" Valara sounds a bit startled by that as she leads them down through the corridors. She gets to a room and activates the lock, revealing what looks like a small studio apartment done-up inside a large storage room. There's a bed, and Devlin has been laid out on it, covers pulled up around his armpits and much of his clothes stripped. If he had bandages, they are nowhere to be seen and he looks… quite like one of those Spacer stories about the person put under a sleeping spell, waiting to be coaxed awake.
Inside, Devlin lays atop a wider bed than might be expected in a hideout. There are a couple of chairs, a small table, a kitchenette, but mostly it's just a place to lie low. Where Devlin had blaster marks on his shoulder and hip, and burns across the side of his face and neck, they appear to be quite healed. His chest rises and falls with slow breath.
"To not be chasing down death's door." Aja steps into the room, as the door is opened, moving immediately towards Devlin, "Galak, stay with me." She'd rather the pilot closer to her than not. She takes a knee beside the bed, a hand reaching out to trace the air above the unconscious man's body, such as she can reach that isn't covered. His face, his neck, his arms, as if she were feeling something there. She does not, however, touch him directly. "A bit worse for wear, but quite alive."
Galak Klighter enters the room and looks down at Devlin, obviously in awe of what he's seeing. Galak had seen the man hit with the fringes of a thermal detonator from his position inside the ship. He shakes his head, unsure of what to think. "I'm here. I just…I don't know what I'm seeing right now." He mouths a few more words and then looks to Aja, as if expecting some sort of explanation.
Valara frowns deeply, watching the woman with cautious but also confused eyes. She crosses her arms at her chest, as if trying to resist interferring. "Will… will he wake up? Is everything alright?" She feels the last question is a bit more desperate than expected, so she clears her throat. "Will he be alright… when he wakes up?" She rubs a bit at her sides again, fidgeting.
Aja looks up and over to Galak, "Only the smallest part of something that was once much greater. Before the hubris of the Jedi brought the wrath of the empire down upon an innocent people." She looks back to Valara, "My companion and I were promised payment for our services. We delivered your goods in good faith, and were not responsible for damage incurred through the actions that began with your friend's shot and ended with the wookiee rampaging around the spaceport." She looks up from Devlin, "Oh, he will wake. And he will be quite well." Back to Galak, "Check the balance in our accounts, please?"
The Corellian arches an eyebrow at Aja's response, "That's a weighty observation." His thoughts drift back to his father's career and the man considers speaking more and then drops silent. Instead, Galak flips out his datapad and queues up a banking screen…probably a little too quickly. Almost as if he had this rehearsed. He scans the screen for a moment, taps a few more times and then flatly states, "Looks like there is pending payment but the contract won't be paid in full." He furrows his brow.
Valara blinks in surprise, looking from Galak to Aja. "You're right, it wasn't your fault, but… I don't have the power to pay you. I'm just… I'm just a grunt." She straightens up slightly, feeling another flutter of panic in her heart. "My mission was to collect the crates." When Galak reports the pending payment, her mouth tightens a bit. She looks back to Aja. "What do you want me to do?"
Aja's lips curl, but there's no amusement there, as she hears Galak's comment, "One day, I will take you to my world. Walk there, feel the bones of the the dead beneath your feet and then judge if the pronouncement carried too much weight or too little." She considers, seemingly weighing Valara's words against the man lying in his strange stasis. "An exclusive working contract between myself and my companion and you and your…interests." That edge of a smile again, "Not quite a grunt, as you were directing the retrieval team." She waits for the other woman's response.
Galak raises his eyebrows at Aja's reply, "I ah…I see." The Corellian is at a loss of words for once and decides poking further isn't the best option. He'll explain later. Galak clears his throat and lets the redness of embarrassment drain from his face before addressing Valara, "Aye. Should you or your people contract -any- piloting work then we're your team. Any credits previously going to hired hands go to our pockets. My career might be shot because of those Imperials and my scandocs are probably done for." Galak speaks clearly, letting some of his Naval training direct his volume, words and inflections. He looks back to Aja and nods. He offers her a slight smile this time.
Valara's mouth tightens a bit, and she looks toward Devlin. That uncomfortable feeling sets in — the feeling of that she better make something happen here, or Devlin will perhaps live forever like this. She nods slightly, and steps away to draw up her comlink. She starts to speak, the Bocce trade language being spoken into the comlink. She blinks a couple times at the feedback, and then she nods slightly. "Wotcha." Then she glances toward Aja. "Being in the safehouse makes it hard to stay in the loop. Boss says that he will complete payment when we get the crates that, well, weren't destroyed. He promises full payment, as… I took possession of the other crates." Her jaw tightens a touch, but that small simmer of frustration is not directed at the other two. She looks over toward Galak, nodding slightly and looking slightly apologetic. "I'm sorry. The… it wasn't meant to go that way. I will make whatever means I can to make amends."
Aja allows Galak to outline his terms, making no comment or modifications. At Valara's words, a shake of her head, "No amends. Only an acknowledgement that work has been done in good faith, and that a good business relationship still exists. We have delivered on our promise, such as was possible given the events of the spaceport. Some of your goods were lost, true, but I have given you this life." A hand moves down, resting in the air just above Devlin's heart, the same place it was when she touched him in the truck. "A fair replacement. Goods can be found again, a life lost cannot be returned." As the woman relays the words of her superior, Aja nods, "Thank you." Finally, she settles her hand on his chest, eyes, not closing, but unfocused, as if she were looking for something or seeing something beyond the room, "Time to return. You are needed."
Devlin stirs, drawing in a heavier breath, and his eyelids begin to flutter. Confusion flickers over his dark features, but he does not seem worried by the fact that he isn't entirely certain where he is, at least not at first, "Intris…" the word is a dry-mouthed murmur, and he starts to sit up, then drops down again wearily, looking around. Wariness flickers over his features as he looks to Aja and Galak, and then he looks to Valara and relaxes a touch. "I thought I was on Intris. How long?"
Valara watches Devlin return, and her jaw drops slightly. She stares, but the moment he speaks, she breaks forward several steps so she can come into his view. "Devlin," she says, her words a bit too soft and a bit too relieved. She waits for Aja to step aside, but does loom a bit. "You weren't. You were here." She glances at her wrist-chron, and clears her throat, answering as lightly as she can with, "Less than a day." She looks to Aja, her expression a mix of thankful and tense. She knows she better see that these folks are paid now.
Galak Klighter watches Aja carefully as she unfocuses and then looks down to Devlin. He observes wide-eyed as the man stirs and wakens. The Corellian smirks, knowing he's seen something very interesting unfold. He then speaks to Devlin, "Welcome back to the land of the living. You nearly bit the dust." Galak turns and looks at Valara, letting her continue the conversation with her comrade.
"Only an echo of a dream." Her response to Devlin's words. As he comes fully awake, Aja moves, fluidly, lifting her hand from Devlin's chest and rising out of the way of Valara. She steps back, nearly far enough that her back might bump into Galak's chest, if she were not careful. She seems to have every intention of giving the two the space they seem to require. A nod, just the barest hint of a smile, at Valara's look. "We can see ourselves out, then?" A beat, "No deviations." That way, Valara does not need to leave the man's side.
Devlin's confusion deepens, but he does his best to offer Valara a smile even as he struggles to catch up mentally, "Less than a…?" His right hand warily reaches up for his left shoulder, prodding it carefully, as if expecting to find it wrapped in bandages. When he touches unbroken skin, he gasps a little, "Mother of space and…" and then the others are backing up, "Wait… how… I don't… the last thing I remember is a bright… an explosion, I think. Everyone made it out? I'm sorry if and of yours were wounded, or your ship damaged."
Galak thinly smiles at Devlin's reaction, "Everyone made it out, thankfully. Your shot sparked a little more action than we were expecting. You were the only one seriously wounded, save for a loader droid that was fairly banged up." Galak glances sadly at the ground for a moment. "The ship wasn't damaged. And it's not mine, otherwise I'd be a little more hotheaded." Galak places his hands on his hips and awaits a response. He looks to Aja, "Let's get a lead on what they need next. Swap contact information. Then clear out."
"No deviations," Valara says in automatic reply, but she at least nods to show she heard. She sits carefully on the side of Devlin's bed. She glances up to the others, and she looks at Aja. She clears her throat. "Thank you… again." Her eyes flicker to Galak. "Same route… the door will open without a keycode." She then looks back to Devlin, brows furrowed. She lets the man work through somethings, though she doesn't have any answers. She looks over to Aja, not expecting her to offer any answers either. But she'd take them, if offered. When Galak offers a contact info trade, Valara nods. She digs out a random datachit from her pocket, and offers it to Galak. "It'll connect you directly to me."
Aja does not, in point of fact, bump into Galak, stopping instead, about a hand span away from him, her body angled to shield him, despite the fact that there are no obvious weapons in the room. She studies Valara's face, "You are welcome." As to her querying look, Aja shakes her head, "The time is not now. For now, only…I bargained for his life and won it back from death. He will have no lasting injuries, save those scars, which I cannot heal." She looks back, to Galak, "I am ready to leave." Likely she has her own debrief waiting, before the pilot lets her back anywhere near his ship. Rented, borrowed, stolen, or no.
Devlin nods at Galak's reassurances, "My apologies. Once they announced we were under arrest…" He shrugs, wincing preemptively, and then looking surprised and confused again when his shoulder doesn't hurt. "I would have tried to bribe the officer if the stormtroopers hadn't been there. I went to school with plenty of those…" he considers his words carefully, "insufferable twats." His lips twist somewhere between a grimace and a grin, and then he slowly pushes himself up to sitting, the covers pooling around his waist. One hand shifts to Valara's forearm first a moment to reassure her, and then he offers out his hand to Aja, "Thank you."
The Corellian nods slowly to Devlin as he speaks, cocking a single eyebrow when he mentions his schooling. Galak sympathizes for a moment and replies, "Yeah. I know the lot. Glad you're alright now." He looks to Valara, "I'll be expecting to hear from you. As long as there's less action and more credits next time." Galak purses his lips, thinking. "Seems like whatever you lot are doing is attracting a lot of attention. Maybe I'll be able to help with that." Galak then turns on a heel to Aja and nods firmly, "Let's go." He almost follows it up with a 'we need to talk' but decides to play it cool. Typical Corellian.
Valara listens to Devlin, surprised a bit by his demeanor around the others. She is quiet during the exchange, and then looks up to Galak. She nods tersely. "You will." Then she clears her throat and looks a bit uncomfortable. "Things change when the Empire decides to come live in your neighborhood." She glances back to Aja when Devlin offers out a hand, shifting aside a bit to give more room to the exchange.
Aja steps forward, taking Devlin's hand. Her hand is rough, calloused, the hand of a warrior, and not a mystic. "You are welcome. I hope I will not have to do so again." But there's something, while not gentle, say…unharsh in her words. An assurance, perhaps, that if there was need, she would do the same again. A shift of her focus to Valara, "Truer words have never been spoken." And then, following Galak's lead, she steps out of the makeshift apartment to depart, with him…with no deviations on their route, from the warehouse.
Devlin clasps Aja's hand in turn, his own hand a good deal less rough, although not precisely matching his accent either. "I rather distinctly hope the same." He nods to Galak, although he grimaces a little at the mention of attracting attention, "I would prefer it another way, but yes, it does, doesn't it?" His posh Coruscanti accent does 'vaguely annoyed' rather well. Still, he nods to Valara, evidently agreeing with her point. As the hired guns depart, Devlin slowly lowers himself back in the bed, letting out a breath between a sigh and a groan — he still aches, after all.