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Chapter Text

  “Go!” Jod bellows. He grips Neel and Wim by the shoulders, shoving them forward, up the steps on the other side of the pit. The girls are on their heels. The four children scramble up the stairs as Jod waits behind them, peering over his shoulder into the darkness at their backs. A clamour of voices mixed with growls and the noisy clang of clashing weapons greets him, and he stiffens. It’s Fern who stops, glancing first at Jod, then in the direction he’s focusing on. 

  “What is it?” she grunts. Jod gives no immediate response, closing his eyes as he strains to listen. “Jod?” Fern prods. 

  “Fern!” KB calls out. “We need to go. Jod said–”

  “I don’t care what Jod says, KB,” Fern snaps. “Last I checked, I’m the captain and he’s…” She fumbles for words, too angry to settle on an apt word. “He’s…” Jod turns then, fixing her with an expression that nearly unsettles her. An emotion she cannot name gleams in his eyes. 

  “He’s right here, Captain,” Jod remarks quietly, biting out the last word. The two of them stare at each other for a few tense moments before a distant cry breaks the quiet. Jod snaps around and whips out his blaster, curling his grip tightly around the handle. “You all need to leave, now. If you value your lives. Those are bounty hunters coming this way. After my ugly mug, most likely. SM-33 will–”

 Fern stamps her foot, shaking her head hard enough that her braid flips in the air. “SM-33 won’t be doing anything until I tell him to, and why should we even listen to you? We have no idea who you really are, since you won’t ever tell us.” 

 Jod bristles, dark brows furrowing, and clenches his jaw. He has no wish to engage in an argument, not now of all times. But there is a part of him that yearns, more than anything, to make some snappy remark to refute her lashing accusations. 

  “I mean, he came back for us,” Neel pipes up. “On At Achrann, Fern, remember? He came.”

  “He’s a Jedi, I know it,” Wim chimes in. “You can use the Force. I’ve seen it. Jedi can do that.”

 Jod rolls his shoulders in an uncomfortable shrug and opens his mouth to speak, but Fern beats him to it.

  “How are we supposed to know that you didn’t lead those bounty hunters here to kill all of us? We have no way of getting out of here, and they’re right there. You’ve essentially trapped us,” Fern growls, folding her arms over her chest. 

   “Their business is me, darling, not you. If you’d open your lovely eyes, you’d see I’m trying to get you out of here alive. Now if you’d just listen to me, for once? Can you do that?” Jod pleads under a frustrated growl. 

 The distant voices are louder now, closer. Jod risks a glance in that direction and can just make out figures shifting in the dark.

  “SILVO!” 

 He is greeted by a few blaster shots and ducks as the shots whistle over head, slamming into the rock beside him.  

  “Please, to hell with everything else,” Jod hisses. “Just go. I’ve got to hold them off.” Fern fixes him with an incredulous glare, and glances over her shoulder at the other three. Neel shrugs. Jod whips back around and fires a few answering shots at the hunters. 

 SM-33 comes plodding toward them out of the dark ahead of them. “Captain? What’s the hold up for, eh?” 

  “We really should go, I think,” KB offers. “The odds are against us. There’s little to nothing we can do to make it out of this if we stay.” 

  “Thanks for the optimistic outlook,” Fern deadpans. “Fine, we’ll go. But I don’t trust him. Just because he hasn’t betrayed us, doesn’t mean he isn’t planning on it.” She turns around and storms past SM-33 without looking back. Neel follows behind, beckoning to Wim. 

If Fern had lingered one moment longer, she might have observed the pained wrinkle of Jod’s brow. The way his jaw muscle ticked as her words hit too closely. 

 The bounty hunters have gathered at the other side of the pit and spit vile curses at Jod, who stands at the base of the stairs, at the opposite edge of the pit. They fire at him, but he extends his hand and uses the Force to deflect the shots. Instantly, his other hand is up, projecting a Force barrier that momentarily holds them back. 

 KB is on the last topmost step and turns to glance at the hunters, but her foot flips on a patch of loose dirt. She stumbles, losing her balance for a few terrifying moments. She cries out, throwing her arms out for any sort of purchase. 

 “KB!” The other children call out, in unison. 

  Jod’s attention is on her within seconds, the bounty hunters now forgotten. He lunges up the steps, reaching for her just as she falls and catches her, steadying her against him. He leans down, peering at her as though checking for injury, but swiftly remembers the threat currently facing them and turns back around. 

 He’s vaguely aware of the girl beside him and gently nudges her forward, back up the stairs.

  “I can’t,” KB mumbles. “I twisted my ankle, I think. I–my foot. I can’t put pressure on it.” Nonetheless, she feebly makes a brave effort to move forward. She freezes, her features twisting in pain as hot agony licks up her ankle. KB shakes her head, carefully lowering herself to the ground. “I can’t.” 

 “No matter, SM-33 will come for you,” he mumbles. “I’ll hold them.” He glances back toward the children and tries to catch the droid’s attention. Perhaps the droid can take the girl out of harm’s way. KB remains where she’d fallen on the steps, a few feet away from Jod. 

 Wim notices this and runs to the droid, pointing at Jod. 

 As Jod turns back around, he catches sight–too slowly–of one of the hunters lifting a blaster at KB. 

 Everything happens at once all too swiftly. 

Jod’s eyes widen as he watches it powering up, the light of it glowing in the darkness. 

He moves, to put himself between her and the blaster, to block its path, to do anything, but it is too late. 

 The hunter pulls the trigger, and Jod can follow its path, knows already where it will land if he does not move. 

 He lunges. 

 He hears the cries of the children, a sharp intake of breath from the young girl at his feet, the clamorous shouts of the bounty hunters across the way. He feels white hot agony blazing at his back, just between his left shoulder blade and his spine. Then, the realization hits him. 

 She is safe. 

  “Jod? They’re still there,” KB pants, pointing over his shoulder.  He glances toward them, momentarily looking around for any possible way he could hinder or inhibit their advance. His eyes catch sight of stalactites lining the roof of the cave, and an idea presents itself. He lifts his right hand toward the stalactites and draws on the last dregs of his strength to muster what little Force he can. Curling his fingers into a fist, he pulls. The effort shakes a few motes of dust from the roof, unnoticed by the rabble below. 

  He groans and tries once more. Another puff of loose dust floats down from overhead. One or two of the men look up warily.

  “Kriff it all,” Jod grumbles, and pulls one last time. His final effort is a successful one. The sharp spikes overhead shake loose and pitch down, skewering the bounty hunters huddled across on the other side. Weary, Jod collapses beside KB and lies there on his back, panting. 

 KB lifts herself up on shaking hands and coughs in the cloud of dust that had settled after. “I think we need to go.” She looks up to see SM-33 standing at the edge of the steps on the other side. Neel peeks around behind the droid and Wim is beside him. KB lifts a hand to wave weakly. 

  “KB! Are you okay?” Neel calls out. Jod turns his head at the sound, wincing as the movement pulls at his shoulder and groans. 

  “You never listen,” he grumbles. He shifts gingerly onto his right side, slowly pushing himself up with his right hand. Bracing himself against the cool stone steps, he pushes himself, shakily, to his feet. “You can’t walk, can you?”

 KB shakes her head. Jod draws in a stilted breath and releases it slowly. He does not like the prospect of carrying the injured girl, but accepts that it is the only option before him.  

  “Nothing for it,” he mumbles. He bends toward her, scooping her up in his arms. He bites his lip to hold back a pained groan as her hand brushes the wound in his shoulder. Screwing his eyes tightly, he shakes his head once and buries the pain deep down into some inaccessible corner of him.  “Arms around my neck, there we go.” 

  “What are you waiting for?” Fern snaps. “Are we just gonna wait here until more of those bad guys come after us?” Jod heaves a weary sigh. 

  “Begging your pardon, Captain,” Jod hisses. “Catch our breath, can we, eh?” Fern lifts her chin and narrows her eyes, displeased with the response. Her gaze shifts to KB, and her expression morphs to one of concern. “What’s wrong with KB? What did you do to her?!” 

 Jod’s gaze shutters.

 “I didn’t–” He’s already forming a response when he feels KB shift against him and stills, glancing at her.

  “Are–are you–can you?” KB’s voice is so small and frail; Jod struggles to associate it with the same bold girl who, not long before, had slammed her tiny fists into his chest and shoved him back. 

 Jod dips his head in a nod. “It’ll have to do.” 

 Their progress is slow and painful, but steady. They plod up the stairs, and Jod only pauses once they’ve reached the top, panting. 

 Fern approaches, arms still folded over her chest, and glares at Jod. “You can put her down now. SM-33, can you take KB?”  

  “Aye, cap’n,” SM-33 rumbles. He lumbers forward, the light of his one eye flickering. “Still in one piece, then, Jedi?” The droid grates out. Jod huffs a laugh, nodding.

  “Just barely. Die another day, all that,” he remarks. He turns his head to glance at KB and says softly, “I’m going to let you down, alright? If we go on like this any longer, we’ll both end up worse for the wear, eh? And one, two, three.” He shifts her in his arms, and leans forward to deposit her in the droid’s arms. 

  “Jod?” He wonders if it’s his imagination or if there really is a barely perceptible tremble in her voice as it forms his name. 

  “Hm?”

  “Thank you.” She whispers her gratitude, and he nearly misses it. The two words take him by surprise, and he stills, unsure for a moment how to respond. He nods once, solemnly, and gives her the faintest smile he can muster.

  “The other people…the angry ones, they’re gone!” Wim pipes up. “How’d you do it?” 

  “I heard a really loud noise, like something crashing,” Neel comments.

  “They’re dead,” Jod grunts. “I used the Force. One man against fifty, give or take.”

 Both boys’ eyes widen, and Jod can already see more questions forming in their minds. Before they can vocalize them, he lifts a hand and shakes his head. “A story for another day, when none of us have prices on our heads.” 

  “You’re the only one out of all of us with a price on your head,” Fern remarks.

  “What’s this then?” Jod jerks his chin at the entry way before them, something he certainly hadn’t seen before. All of the children turn to see what he’s looking at. 

  “Looks to me like the blasted lair we’ve been after,” SM-33 rasps. “Of the legendary Captain Rennod.” The droid progresses slowly forward, his metallic feet clanging against the stone as he moves. “Oh, the legends pale in comparison with what I sees before me eyes.” Neel and Wim scamper in after him while Fern adamantly waits until everyone has passed. Jod takes his pleasant time striding past her and peers down at her, his lips curving in a mischievous smile.

  “What’s the matter? Still convinced I’ll pull a fast one on you?” 

  “I’m waiting for it,” Fern mumbles. Jod nods.

  “You keep waiting,” he whispers. His smile falters then as he shifts the wrong way and pain blazes in the vicinity of his shoulder. He bites back a curse. 

 He’s one of the last to enter and take a long look at the cavernous room filled with treasure. He catches sight of Neel reaching for some shiny bauble on a table and stops him.

  “Don’t touch a thing. Might be booby-trapped,” Jod warns. 

  “The coordinates will be hidden in the captain’s data log,” SM-33 whispers. 

  “Focus,” Jod tells all of them. He catches sight of Wim reaching for a glowing trinket and grabs the boy’s wrist, flinching as the thrashing boy’s jerking movements pull on his arm and jostle his wound.  “Stop. Don’t. Touch. Anything.”

  “Is the plunder booby-trapped, too?” Wim asks. Jod releases him, casting a careful glance over the array of treasure.

  “Ohhh yeah.” Jod lifts his hands and gestures. “Spread out. Look for something that…” He sighs, “Looks like a data port. Quickly. No touching.” 

  “What’s a data port look like?” Neel asks. Wim carefully approaches a lit pedestal with a metal object resting on top of it. He bends down to peer more closely at it. 

  “He would have disguised it,” Jod remarks. “Pirate captains never trust their crew. It could be anything.” 

  “What are we even looking for?” Fern grunts.

  “A data port!” Jod reminds her. “Or something that looks…off.”

  “Is this something?” Neel calls out, pointing at a table laden with food. “All of the food here looks rotten, except for…that roast. It looks fresh from the cooker!” Neel reaches for it, but steadies himself on a rickety chair beside the table. The moment his hand touches the chair however, a trap door opens beneath it into darkness. Neel cries out as the floor slips out from under him. Quick as lightning, Jod reaches out and yanks Neel to him, holding him there until the floor tiles slide back into place. 

  Jod gasps, regretting the decision only because his movement tugs sharply on the wound in his shoulder, and bites his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. 

  “I’ll do it,” he remarks. Hissing through his teeth, Jod gingerly extends a hand toward the roast and carefully pushes. The whole platter flips back with a soft click. 

  Moments later, amidst the crackling sound of static, a projection flickers into view at their backs. 

  “It’s the Captain's log!” SM-33 exclaims. 

  “33, access this data port,” Jod says. The droid looks to Fern for confirmation.

  “Captain?” Fern dips her head in a nod. SM-33 proceeds forward and extending his robotic hand, plugs into the data port. 

  “Searching…searching…searching,” the droid drones on. Jod stares at the flickering projection with fixed interest. “Ahh yes.” The projection shifts, images flashing on it until it settles on a blurry image of coordinates and a planet outlined by undulating circles. 

  “That’s it!”

  “Home!”

  “At Attin!” 

   Jod watches the kids, jumping excitedly, hugging each other, before turning to SM-33. “Copy those coordinates down. We need to find our way back to the ship and get the hell off this rock.”  Jod slides his hands into the pockets of his coat and waits as the droid downloads the coordinates. After some time, Fern withdraws from the others and approaches him.

  “So?” She prods. 

  Jod looks up, arching a brow. “So what?” 

 Fern huffs. “What happens now? We have the way home, so can’t we just go?” Jod lifts a finger. 

  “Not without a ship.”

  “We have a ship,” KB comments. “It’s just–”

  “Exactly,” Jod confirms. “We’re here.” He motions to the room they stand in. “And the ship’s somewhere up there, that is, if they haven’t scrapped it for parts. If we can make it out in one piece and into hyperspace, then we can think about what’s next. Until then…”

  “I’ve got them coordinates. We’ve got ourselves a ship. Just got to find it. What now, Captain?” SM-33 asks, fixing his one unblinking eye on Fern. 

  “What Jod said. We need to find our way back to the surface, get the Onyx Cinder and then we’re off,” Fern says. Jod spreads his right arm in a wide gesture towards the entryway. 

  “Lead the way,” Jod remarks. Fern eyes him as she passes and pauses right in front of the entryway, looking over her shoulder at the others.

  “Well? You guys wanna leave or what?”

  “But what about the treasure?” Neel asks. “There’s just so much of it. It’s probably worth a lot of money.”

  “Hm, nope. Booby trapped, all of it,” Jod shakes his head. “See, I’m not even making off with anything. Not from here.”

  “What about this? It looks kind a like a lights–wait, it IS!” Wim cries out, eyes bright with wonder. “It’s a lightsaber! Look!”   He lifts a hand to take up the object on the pedestal, but before he can close his fingers around it, it jumps up and sails through the air into Jod’s hand. 

  “Ah, ah, ah. That is not a toy,” Jod tasks, snatching the lightsaber away. He sweeps his long coat back to clip the lightsaber at his belt and covers it once again.

  “That’s not fair. I found it!” Wim whines. “Come on, can’t I just see it? The actual thing?” The little boy scowls at Jod. “Do you even know how to use it?”

Jod folds his arms over his chest and tilts his head as he regards Wim. There’s an almost mirthful gleam in his eye when he winks.  “Do you?” 

Chapter Text

 Jod pauses just outside his quarters, using his right hand to brace himself against the wall, and draws in shallow, shaking breaths. He thanks the Force that it hadn’t proved too difficult to find the ship again. He’d made the kids check their pockets one last time, flicking his fingers in nervous expectation until Neel fished out a few credits he’d forgotten he had. With that, Jod had checked them out and gotten them out to their ship.

 This is where he finds himself now, struggling to keep his footing with Wim’s much-to-be-desired flying. He grits his teeth and forces himself to put one foot in front of the other, to keep going. His left shoulder protests; the slightest movement shifts the coarse, heavy material of his coat and scrapes mercilessly against the sensitive blaster burns covering most of his shoulder blade. 

 Black spots flicker in his vision, and when Jod lifts his foot to take another step, the world around him sways. He makes it to the entryway and steadies himself, curling his fingers around the riveted threshold in a grip tight enough to see the whites of his knuckles. He growls, shaking his head and pushes himself forward. 

 Just a little bit further. Been through worse, we have, he muses. He reaches the shoddy mess he calls a ‘bed’ and musters up his courage to brave what comes next. It’s nothing he hasn’t experienced before.

 Jod inhales and releases the breath slowly. He can count on the fingers of one hand the times he has depended on himself alone to patch up wounds like this and worse. He is no stranger to pain. What difference will it make this time? 

Jod gingerly lifts his shoulders and shrugs out of his heavy coat, pulling first his right arm then his left. With his right now free of the oppressive weight, he sets to extricating his left arm. Craning his neck over his shoulder, he tries to get a look at the wound, but the effort pulls just enough on the damaged skin that he regrets it immediately and abandons the endeavor. 

  Jod closes his eyes, draws in a deep breath and clenching his jaw as tightly as he dares, grips the edge of his sleeve and yanks. 

 He releases a string of profanities as pain like nothing he has ever felt explodes in his shoulder, followed by something warm and sticky sliding down his back. Blood. He knows he is only stripping away his coat, but it feels as though he is tearing flesh. Jod clamps his teeth down on his diatribes and kicks away the crumpled bloodstained coat as though it were at fault for his agony.  He pants, trembling from the ordeal of removing the coat. 

  He is too absorbed in the dilemma of how to stitch himself back together that he does not realize he is being observed. KB had been passing by (slowly, hobbling with the assistance of a pair of old pipes SM-33 and the boys fashioned for her into makeshift crutches. She had just been sitting with Fern and SM-33, listening to his stories, when she heard a loud shout coming from somewhere in the ship. Startled and decidedly curious, she had resolved to look in on Jod and see if he was alright. This is how she finds herself now, at the threshold. 

 She stands there silently, taking in the sight of the injured pirate slumped forward sitting on the edge of his bed. His coat lies in a crumpled ball at his feet, and in the dim lighting, she can just see the charred, bloody mess of his shoulder. Her heart clenches; she remembers all too well exactly how he’d received that wound.

 She still finds herself struggling to process it. Everything had happened so quickly; one moment they were all scrambling out of the pit, and the next, blaster shots were flying everywhere. She’d tripped and fallen, and Jod had been there in moments. The glow of blasters had illuminated the dark cavern in flashes, and she remembers flinching against the sensory overload she’d experienced there. 

  The one moment she’d never forget–that remains with her now as she watches the man before her–was when Jod had come rushing towards her, his focus on one of their attackers across the way. He’d landed on his knees before her, nearly collapsing on top of her after the blaster shot whipped through the air, the light of it flashing behind him as it struck its mark. 

  He took that shot for me, KB reflects, blinking several times behind her visor. She cannot help now but remember that night not long ago when she’d struggled to find sleep. She had heard movement in the sleeping quarters and pushing herself up on one arm, flicked back her visor to see the pirate quietly stepping through. 

  You don’t trust me.

  I calculated the odds. 

 Not everything in the galaxy can be calculated. Sometimes you have to follow your gut.

 KB swallows. Jod had certainly done that in the moment. She makes note of this quiet observation and continues on her way wordlessly. She easily finds her way back to the cockpit where SM-33 is regaling Fern with stories of pirates, treasure and other adventures. When Fern catches sight of her, she jumps up and hangs over the edge of her seat, wrapping her arms around the headrest. The droid vacates the seat, rumbling something about fixing a loose plate somewhere before he plods away.

  “Where’ve you been, KB? Thirty-three was telling us stories. You missed a good one,” Fern comments. KB casts an accusatory glance at the droid and holds out the part the droid had asked for. 

  “Oh, just..didn't you hear that noise? I heard something. I think it was Jod,” KB mumbles. "So I went to look for him, and he doesn't look so good." Fern eyes her for a moment before glancing down at the console and toying with a lever near her hand.

  “So, you know…with Thirty-three talking about pirates,” Fern starts, reaching up to fiddle with her braid. KB drops into the chair SM-33 abandoned and flicks back her visor to watch Fern as she speaks. “I was thinking.”

  “About Jod?” KB prompts. Fern nods.

  “I wasn’t sure what he was going to do back there in the cave,” Fern admits. “I was scared, KB. It looked like we were going to die. I mean, did you see all those bounty hunters?!”

  KB nods aggressively. She had seen them too close for comfort. 

  “I mean, I don’t really–my instincts are telling me that we probably shouldn’t trust him. We barely know him, but–”

  “We don’t know him,” Fern remarks, shaking her head. “After all of the names we’ve heard people call him, how can we even know that that really is his name?”

  KB continues, barely acknowledging Fern’s remark. “I was going to say that even though we hardly know him, well, he saved my life back there. I–you’re probably not gonna believe me, but if you want to go see, you can go look. He’s probably still back there.” She jerks her thumb behind her. “He didn’t look so good, Fern.”

  Fern tosses her head and huffs, folding her arms over her chest. KB furrows her brows slightly, wondering to herself why exactly Fern seems to bristle over any mention of their pirate companion. 

  Undaunted, KB forges on. “He was pulling off his coat, and it looked like it really hurt. There was a lot of blood. He’s hurt. I think he took a blaster shot for me back there, in the pit. You were all on the other side already, and it was just me and Jod. I tripped, sprained my ankle.” She lifts a hand to brush her silver hair out of her face. “The next thing I knew, there was this flash of light, and it was really hot. I saw him leaning over me. He protected me.”

 Fern narrows her eyes slightly, pursing her lips. “Well, he probably had some self-interested reason for that. I still think he’s going to betray us at some point. You know, he’s–” Just then, whatever she is about to say is cut off by a sharp cry followed by the thud of something metal hitting the floor. Both girls jump. Even SM-33, returning from his task, pauses and looks in the direction of the sound. He swivels his head back around to the girls and peers at them with his one remaining headlight. 

  “Jedi being too noisy, Cap’n? I can shut ‘im up for you,” he offers. 

  “No!” KB blurts out, faster than she means to. Fern casts her a side glance. “I mean…I think he’s hurt. Maybe we could check on him? See if there’s anything we can do?”

 Fern shrugs. “You go. I’m not touching that pirate with a ten-foot pole.” 

  “Fine!” KB retorts. “I want to take SM-33 with me, though. He can probably do a thing or two.” Fern nods her consent. 

 KB settles herself onto her crutches and makes her way slowly and steadily back towards Jod’s quarters. SM-33 follows close behind. She knows he can’t help it, but still winces when his pedes clang heavily against the metal beneath their feet. “Thirty-three, please try to be quiet,” she whispers. The droid grumbles something too low to make out, but she doesn’t bother to ask about it now that they have reached Jod’s quarters. 

 She doesn’t need to announce their arrival, she realizes, as SM-33’s heavy footsteps achieved that. Jod looks up, painfully shifting himself just enough to take in the sight of KB and SM-33 at the entryway. 

 “What’s the matter now?” Jod grunts, but even KB can perceive the lack of bite in his words. As if he wants to snap, but doesn’t have the heart to. “Problem?”

 KB’s tongue flicks out to sweep across her lips as she considers what sort of response to give. She settles on the truth and gears herself up for the delivery. 

  “We heard…I heard something, and I came to see if you were okay,” she breathes out in a rush, stringing her words together. 

 Jod leans forward slightly, his brows knitting together. He instantly regrets the action, hissing through gritted teeth and stills. 

  “Heard that, did you? It seems I didn’t escape unscathed.” 

 KB steps inside and approaches, stopping herself a few feet away from Jod. She pulls her hands forward and fiddles uselessly with her fingers. “I can help. If you want? I mean, I’m no medical professional but I think, after what happened–” She looks away, glancing over her shoulder at SM-33 still lingering just outside. “You should probably do something about that.”

 This elicits from Jod a rough grating sound hardly passable for a laugh. 

  “First aid? You aren’t squeamish, are you?” Jod looks her up and down, a faint smile forming at the corner of his mouth. “It isn’t pretty.” 

  “Injuries never are,” KB remarks. “Thirty-three, come here. You can probably do something.” 

  “Aye,” the droid rumbles. KB tilts her head slightly as she studies Jod thoughtfully.

  “It looks like a mess here,” she remarks. “What did you try to do exactly?”

 Jod huffs. “As I’m sure you remember, I intercepted a blaster shot meant for you. I’ve only just managed to remove my coat, which was in itself an almost equally painful experience. Might’ve pulled a bit of skin.”

  KB scoffs at this. “Might have, he thinks,” she mumbles to herself. “Looks like you murdered someone here. Can I see?” 

  “Be my guest.”

  She walks around to the other side of his bed and slides onto it, scooting forward carefully so as not to jostle the bed and shake his injuries. Flicking her visor back, she studies his backside. 

 His rumpled blue shirt is a ruined and charred mess of blood and holes. What she can see through it, of his backside, is badly burnt and slowly oozing dark red blood. She sucks in a breath through her teeth.

  “I warned you, deary,” Jod mumbles. “Now if you’re quite done, I’d prefer you not empty your lunch in my quarters, and I’ll–”

  “Thirty-three, I need your torch,” KB calls out to the droid. He trudges forward, presenting her with a small blue flame issuing from his metal thumb. 

 Jod tenses, stretching his neck as far as he dares to glance at her over her shoulder. “What are you on about, then, eh? How bad is it?”

  “Do you have a knife? Or something sharp?” KB asks him. 

 Jod swallows, hesitating. “What would you be wanting a knife for, if I had one?”

 KB releases a tired sigh. “The wound’s cauterized. Because, well, blaster. There’s bits of your shirt stuck in the wound, and if we don’t get it out, you’ll get an infection and maybe die. So I was thinking, we could try to cut away the shirt and re-cauterize your wound to close it at least until we can get proper medical help.”

  Jod pales, and the gulp he makes as he swallows is audible in the quiet room. “Re-cauterize?” 

   “Unless you want to bleed out? I don’t think dying is the best choice here, and, um,” KB looks around, raking her gaze over the grime-covered walls of his quarters, “It doesn’t seem likely to me that we’ll find anything remotely hygienic to treat you with on this piece of junk.” 

  “Here, take this.” Jod leans slightly to his right, just enough to slide the knife at his side out of its sheath and holds it out to KB. She takes it from him, curling her fingers around the scratched and scarred hilt. “Just bloody warn me before you–”

 She gives him no such warning.

 KB braces one hand against a patch of unharmed skin on his left shoulder, using her fingers to lift a bit of the shirt with the fabric still buried in the wound. Then, she brings the blade to his skin and slides the blind under and into his shoulder, cutting away the burned mess of flesh and cloth. 

  Jod growls in pain, tensing up the instant the blade breaks his skin. His back arches, and KB does all she can to steady her hand, so as not to further injure him by accident. He cries out, before he remembers himself and bites another cry back. His eyes are screwed shut, and she can see the taut lines of pain carved into his features. 

  “I’m sorry, it’s just…there’s so much,” KB whispers to him. She works the knife again, shifting lower to the space below his shoulder blade. Viscous blood trails in the wake of her work, rolling down to the small of his back. His cries tear at her heart, but KB forces herself to continue. There is no stopping now. 

  By the time she finishes, his shirt is beyond recognition. Once she had cut away the parts of it burned into his wound, she’d cut away the rest of the ruined garment and gently pulled it off of him. Jod had barely given any resistance, exhausted and in far too much pain to offer any assistance.  All she can see is the thick, already congealing blood oozing from his damaged skin. Alarmed, KB grips the knife in one hand and hastily looks about her for anything to staunch the bleeding. The only thing that seems possible usable to her is one of the pant legs of her suit. Cringing in the face of cutting up the fabric, she swiftly bends over, slicing away a good-sized strip of the previously unstained fabric and cuts it off. She quickly presses it to Jod’s shoulder, earning a pained groan from the pirate, and jerks her chin at SM-33. 

  “The torch! We need it. He’s bleeding, a lot,” KB calls out. 

  “Oi, Jedi, no trickery here. This will hurt a whole hell of a lot more than you’re expectin’,” SM-33 rumbles. “No Jedi magics, now, eh? Behave.”

  “It’s the F-force, droid,” Jod pants between shallow breaths. “Get on..o-on with it. Please.” His voice breaks on the last word. 

 SM-33 ignites the small blue flame and nodding to KB, waits until she removes the bloodsoaked cloth from Jod’s shoulder. The droid applies the flame to the wound.

 Jod screams. He cries out so loudly that the sound echoes in the halls of the ship, and KB jumps. The pirate claws at the bedding beneath him, crushing the ruined blankets in his vicelike grip as he writhes beneath the droid. He shuts his eyes in a tight, anguished grimace, and bites his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. 

 He opens his mouth, gasping for breath and spits out a string of curses KB has never, in her life, heard. Jod twists and writhes, throwing his head back as a few tears slide down his face. 

  “Steady, Jedi,” SM-33 warns, reaching out a hand to rest it on his uninjured shoulder. “Move like that and I’ll burn something I ought not to.” 

  “Get on with it, for kriff’s sake!” Jod growls between his groans. SM-33 proceeds with his work, carefully shifting the flame to cover the whole expanse of the shoulder wound. 

  “And there we’ve got it. Done. He looks worse off than a–” SM-33 begins, but KB cuts him quickly enough. 

  “Thank you, Thirty-three! That’s…no, that’s fine. We don’t need that anymore please,” KB remarks, pushing away his metal appendage still maintaining the flame. “Jod?”

  The pirate grunts, lost in a haze of pain and exhaustion. KB’s heart clenches at the man slumped on the edge of his bed. 

  “You should probably rest. We’ll find some place to take care of you, I promise. We just don’t have stuff here, and you need serious help. Let me help you, at least to get comfortable,” KB remarks. She hands SM-33 the bloody knife and the cloth she’d cut from her pants. 

 Jumping off the bed, she draws back the rumpled covers and  pushes the pillows into something remotely more comfortable. “You’re going to need to lie down on your stomach. Can you do that? It’s not comfortable, but you can’t sleep on your back or your side. You might open the wound again.”

  “'M just want to…close my eyes a bit. 'Ts nothing, ‘swear it,” Jod rasps. 

  “You can, I promise,” KB assures him. She takes his right hand in hers and is about to tug to help to his feet when she feels a light squeeze. At first, the moment her hand closes around his, there is no reaction, but after some time, he spreads his fingers, as though surprised. His hand shifts and he grips her hand in a gentle squeeze. He turns his head slowly, wearily towards her, and something nameless flickers in his gaze. 

 She wonders, for a moment, how long it has been since someone has touched him without violence. 

  “Come on, to bed,” she says once more. She tugs on his hand and struggles to pull him and his heavier weight onto his feet. He sways, but she quickly reaches for his left elbow, and it is a feat to hold him there, upright. 

 She manages it. 

 Firmly gripping his elbows, KB walks backward slowly, pulling Jod along with her until he’s directly beside the bed. She releases him and looks on as he eases himself down onto the bed, on his stomach. KB looks him over one last time, to reassure herself that Jod will be alright for the present moment before taking her leave.

 He must be exhausted, she reasons. Jod is fast asleep now, the barely perceptible rise and fall of his shoulders slowing as his body settles into a restful rhythm. She dips her head in a quiet nod and beckoning to SM-33, exits his quarters.

 The walk back to the cockpit is quiet, save for SM-33’s clanging footfalls and the occasional surprised squeak of the space rat living in his empty eye socket. KB is too lost in thought to make any comment, currently turning over in her mind the best probably course of action to choose, given their present state. 

  “You’re back!” Fern’s greeting shakes her from her thoughts. KB pulls up a dented metal crate and drops down onto it, her only choice for a seat since the droid has taken up his position in the cockpit. 

  “I was right, about Jod,” KB remarks softly. “It was pretty bad. We did the best we could for now. He’s resting.” 

  Fern hmms noncommittally and leans over to take a look at the scanners in front of SM-33. “So, we just follow the coordinates we got from Rennod’s lair, right? It’s a straight shot home.”

 KB stills, glancing abruptly at Fern beneath furrowed brows. “Yeah, but we need to find a place to get Jod looked at. I hardly think what we did can be considered ‘proper medical care’.”

  Fern throws her a flat look. “I don’t want to be mean or anything, but…” she drops her voice to a whisper, “I don’t think we really need him, do we? Okay, maybe not throwing him out the airlock but he can’t die from that, right? What if we just went home and then, I don’t know, I’m sure we can check him into a hospital on At Attin.”

  KB shakes her head. “This place is dirty, Fern. He’s dirty. If that wound gets infected, he could get so sick that it might kill him. I don’t know about you, but…I don’t think it’s very fair. He risks his life to save me and gets pretty badly hurt for it, but then we just leave him to die for it? That’s pretty cold. He needs to be taken care of.” 

  “Begging your pardon, Cap’n,” SM-33 cuts in, “but it appears we be running out fuel. Needs be re-fueling, me thinks. Taken care of, eh? What be your meaning? Throw ‘im out the airlock or to a doctor?”

  KB throws her hands up in a frustrated act of surrender and shakes her head. “Of course, Thirty-three, I fully intend to shoot him out of the airlock after all that we just did. No, I mean…maybe she wants to throw him out, but I don’t think we should.” 

  Fern rolls her eyes, mumbling something under her breath about worthless pirates and airlocks, but she nonetheless tosses her head in a perturbed nod. “Fine, but just because we need fuel. If we didn’t, and if I had to choose between chucking him out the airlock and doing something else much more convenient to help us getting him, I’d probably–”

  “Fern!” KB cries, exasperated. 

  “What?” Fern lifts her shoulders in a helpless shrug. “I don’t like him, okay?”

  “I think the feeling is mutual,” KB mumbles. “But just…wait before making decisions like that, okay? You need to consider all the odds, calculate all the factors. Who knows, maybe he isn’t as bad as you think he might be?” 

  “Whatever,” Fern grumbles. “I’m taking a walk. Thirty-three, let me know when we’ve arrived.” She huffs once more and stalks off, flicking her braid over her shoulder. 

  “There’s a spaceport one hundred ‘n fifty kliks from here. Ought to ‘ave what we need, me thinks,” Thirty-three comments. “Setting course now.” 

 KB quickly occupies the space Fern has vacated and kicks her feet up onto the console, folding her arms behind her head as she relaxes into the chair. She fiddles with a button at her temple, adjusts a gear and settles down, closing her eyes behind her lowered visor. She lets herself slowly drift into sleep’s embrace, dreaming of what exciting prospects the proximate future holds.