Chapter Text
Back to the same kriffing backwater rock that she’d been born on. She didn’t remember much of her time here and what memories she had weren’t exactly pleasant. There’d been some good times in her early years, a lot of them that she couldn’t remember. There was also the disappearing act her mother would pull every time that Jedi would show up, and the teasing from the human children in their village, and the raid by the slavers. That was by far the worst one. Why they’d decided to hit her village she’d never know, but it was the dominate memory attached to this kriffing planet.
It had been so many years since she’d been taken away that her accent was gone, only making an appearance when she was furious, exhausted or very drunk.
She wasn’t terribly worried about the trip though, she’d land, deliver the cargo, get her credits, fuel up and probably be gone before the day was done. She might hit the nearest cantina if the mood struck her before she left. She wasn’t planning on going far or staying long, it was unlikely she’d run into anyone she knew from here or anyone who’d known her. Mirialans weren’t the most populous race on Ord Mantell. As far as she knew, she only had a couple of cousins left and she wasn’t sure if they were even on the planet anymore. A person changes a lot in 16 years. She likely wouldn’t recognize anyone from the old days, even if she were to see them and they certainly wouldn’t recognize her.
The planet was different than she remembered. From the rumors she had heard almost the whole planet was a war zone, some kind of civil war. The kriffing assholes had shot at her ship as soon as she neared the planet. What exactly they were fighting about, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t exactly keep up to date on the politics of Ord. The government was about as corrupt as they came and whether the people had finally just had enough or were being manipulated by some other group for their own purposes, she wouldn’t be here long enough to care.
She eased her shining star down as gently as she could with the speed she’d had to come in at. “sorry, baby, sorry, be good to me and I’ll get you patched up with the very best.” she murmured as she dropped into the hanger and ground to a stop, sparks flying and she knew a few parts had come off. She’d have a lot of making up to do. That was the deal she’d made, she loved her ship with everything she had and took care of her and in return, the Siren took care of Leikael, gave her a home, kept her free and in credits and always warned her before she quit.
She moved over to the door of the ship and leaned down petting her little Manka Lynx. “sorry Tika darling, you can’t come with me this time.” She wasn’t risking her running off here. She picked up her pack and gave her one last pat. “Stay girl." As she shrugged on her pack and stepped off the Siren, she was approached by what appeared to be the only man hanging around the dock, (which was strange for a cargo delivery), a little over a head taller than her, a tattoo covering half his face and an attitude that made her a bit wary. Something about this man was off, and it wasn’t the barely disguised disgust with her race, there was something else. She wasn’t sure what exactly wasn’t on the up, but there was something
The man was clearly trying to act like he thought more of her than he did considering that even someone with no knowledge of starships could tell the Siren had taken some damage. She sauntered over, taking her time and letting her confidence and maybe a bit of arrogance show in her swagger as she approached and he complimented her flying. She was damn good, she knew that, no point in pretend humility. There was an edge to the mans voice that she’d heard in humans before, usually right before some comment on her being an alien in general or her race in particular or their surprise that she could do anything.
She never knew if that was the attitude she was going to get or not, so she always portrayed the arrogant, successful, unstoppable spacer. The cocky attitude sometimes threw people off and made them assume she was exactly what she appeared to be, cocky, confident and competent. She’d prove she was the best later. This man’s patronizing tone told her everything she needed to know about him, he hated her because she was alien and she was better than he could dream of being. "I owe it all to my lightning reflexes and crackerjack timing.“ She followed the man, who introduced himself as Skavak, into the warehouse and accepted the credits for the delivery.
Leikael leaned back against a stack of crates and started counting the credits while she waited for him to get the cargo unloaded. Pounding footsteps drew her attention as a younger man, about her age, burst into the hanger, calling to Skavak. Stars, he was handsome. She’d been around the galaxy a time or two and she liked to think she knew attractive, and this man was. Strong movements that promised layers of muscles, chiseled features accented by faint scars and neatly tied dreads. She stepped away from the crates and over to the two men. “Got a name?” She asked, letting herself flirt just a bit .
Corso paused at the top of the hill at watched as the incoming freighter twisted and darted through the sky, dodging the separatist fire. Most shuttles that made it to the ground these days were tiny and easy to fly, hard to hit, watching the freighter weave through the sky, pulling off barrel rolls and impressive maneuvering was a sight. He’d seen less skilled smugglers shot down in smaller ships when they weren’t trying anything fancy. “ That must be our captain” he thought, ‘one hell of a pilot’.
He hurried down the hill and toward the hanger, he was supposed to help unload the blasters the captain had brought in and make sure that they were functional. He reached the door to the hanger and paused as he heard a woman speak, “I owe it all to my lightning reflexes and crackerjack timing."
He stared at the woman standing at the base of the freighters ramp. 'The captain’s a woman?’ He hadn’t been told that. She stood there, easily staring down Skavak with a snappy comeback and a disarming smile, the man stood over a head taller and was clearly trying to use his height and generally disagreeable attitude to attempt to intimidate, but the captain wasn’t giving him an inch.
Corso couldn’t help but stare as she walked into the hanger with a measured pace, no…not walked…swaggered. Every movement, every sway of her hips drew his eye, full of attitude, and confidence, fully in command of herself and seemingly everything else around her. He couldn’t look away. She had to be one of the most stunning sights he’d seen.
As Skavak handed her a stack of credits, Corso heard the distinct beep of his comm, he grabbed it, got the message and cursed 'damned separatists’. He jogged into the hanger calling ahead to get Skavak’s attention "We’ve got a big problem. Separatists just took over the local air defense cannon.”
Up close, the captain was even more beautiful, dark brown hair, swept to frame her face and emphasize her glittering, silver eyes, dancing with a playful, mischievous edge, a smile that made his heart leap. A slender figure, with more than a hint of lean muscle, bright green skin, and the tattoos that Mirialans used to track their life accomplishments and families. He’d met more than a few Mirialans during his time in the peace brigade, but not enough to interpret what the tattoos indicated.
Even the scar on her face only seemed to accent her features. He tried to keep his mind focused. He was here to work after all. But he could appreciate her appearance and her attitude. It wasn’t like she’d be here long anyways and there was the damn separatists and the cannon they’d somehow got control of to deal with.
Skavak stepped over near enough they could talk instead of shouting, his tone as condescending as it ever was. There was a reason Corso never liked working with Skavak much. He quickly explained the situation and the fact that they had brought down a republic transport, because that could be a problem for them at some point.
That seemed to have drawn the Captains interest. She glanced over from the pile of crates she’d been leaning on, and that Corso had deliberately not been looking at, he was working, and moved towards them. Her silver eyes sparking and fascinating. She smiled at him and that sweet, playful voice asked “You got a name?”
“Oh, Corso Riggs, ma'am, I’m with Skavak. Nice to meet you.”
She blinked up at him and giggled, a musical sound, “ma'am? well, aren’t you sweet"
Corso blushed a bit, evidently the captain wasn’t used to people being polite, then again spacers tended to be an interesting crowd. He was working, he reminded himself and quickly explained the situation.
Skavak shifted a bit and crossed his arms as he scowled, "That’s bad news, Captain. The separatists will blast you out of the sky if you even think about taking off”
The Captain was going to have to handle the control stations, he and Skavak had other work they had to do. The captain looked more irritated by the second.
She sighed and shifted on her feet. looking him in the eyes, “I’ll handle it, but if I die, I want to be buried with my ship."
How was he supposed to be respond to that? Requests on burials from pretty women weren’t exactly something he was familiar with. So he said the only thing that he could think to say "Good luck. Hope we see you again.” He really did, he knew he probably wouldn’t but it would be nice.
Skavak started walking away from the little cluster quickly calling over his shoulder “Let’s move, Corso. We’re running out of time.” The captain gave him a terse smile and turned to head out of the hanger towards Drelliad, moving with that swagger. He couldn’t help but watch the swing of her hips as she moved. Corso stood there for a few moments longer than he should have, there was work after all, watching her leave, his eyes fixed a bit lower than he should be looking.
Skavak gripped his shoulder as the captain exited the hanger “Don’t go there kid"
"What?”
“Broads like that captain are always more trouble than they’re worth. Don’t go there. We got work." Corso sighed and followed. Skavak was right in this case, there was work to do. At least he'd waited until the captain left to start calling him kid.