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Chapter Text

ONE  I  TERRIBLE THINGS HAPPEN WITH PIRATES AROUND

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OCHRAN SYSTEM

8 ABY

It began with terrible noise. Hours had passed since opening and a thumping ache sparked through Kitra's head, accompanied by the leering jeers of their regular clientele. Rhythmic stomping pulsated through the floor underneath her as she weaved her way around the throng of customers. Clanging echoed in the tight spaces – cups either being dropped or smashed together. The din was terrible tonight. More so than other recent evenings. But the noise was routine. Kitra had long learned to drown out the incessant jabbering that surrounded her, focused on delivering drinks to the rowdy crowd.

With their systems fuzzy from alcohol, eyes fixated on the night's potential bedmate and mouths occupied with shouting across tables, none paid any mind to the young girl sweeping across the floor. Allowing her to work without distraction. A sullen expression filled her face as she delivered another tray full, replacing them with the empty cups on the table. The patrons picked up their new drinks without batting an eye in her direction.

Fenra's Dive was a local hotspot on Ochran. Nestled in an alcove just off Ochnal Space Port, it attracted an amalgamation of the galaxy's most wretched scum. Bounty hunters, pirates, wayward brigands searching to stir up trouble. All were welcome. And Fenra himself merged into the crowd, camouflaging himself with such an astute sense of belonging that even Kitra couldn't recognise him in the horde.

Whilst he drowned himself in drink, his thirteen year old daughter spent long hours on her feet, serving their customers alongside the droid staff under her father's ownership. She had come to believe that her father saw her as one of them. An unwavering, unfeeling machine. Though if the droids made mistakes or malfunctioned, they weren't the ones to receive the consequences.

Missteps were detrimental in her father's eyes. He had scraped and bartered a reputable business, harping upon the fall of the Galactic Empire. Whilst the New Republic scrambled to rebuild a functioning and competent government, outer rim territories remained in chaos. Rife with bandits, pirates and bounty hunters alike, Fenra had capitalised upon the new population, marking his bar as a place of respite for the galaxy's most deviant.

Mistakes made him look disreputable. That's what he always said. Which left Kitra stepping on glass that cracked continuously under every careful step she traced. Mistakes brought calamity down upon her, left evident through marred and mottled skin. The first lesson she'd ever learned in her life; never talk back to Fenra Halon.

Placing the tray back onto the bar, she eyed the next one full of cups. A sordid mixture of ales and liquors that made her nose sting. 

"Table seventeen." Sita, the barkeep – and the only other sentient employed in Fenra's – mumbled out as she continued serving the customers at the bar. The woman was as indifferent to her as the clientele were.

Kitra nodded, picking it up without a word. Curly, dark hair flipped around her shoulders as she turned, making her way to the aforementioned table. It was one of their larger booths near the back, spacious enough to seat at least twenty if you didn't mind your personal space being invaded. Most of its inhabitants were locked in deep conversation or making merry with each other; teasing jeers thrown across the table. The exact same picture as the rest of the tables she'd served that evening. 

She only gulped slightly when she caught the figure of the Shistavanen sitting at the far edge of the table. Dark fur, leathery skin and intimidating red eyes that glowed from the shadows. The race's hound-like features made them an extra indomitable presence. Taking a steadying breath, she kept the tray balanced and moved towards the table, unable to tear her eyes away from Shistavanen. 

Which meant she was blind to the stumbling figure crashing through the crowd towards her. The cups tumbled out off the tray before she could rebalance herself, liquor splashing right upon the boots of the Shistavanen. 

Her throat tightened and shoulders hunched as the hulking figure leapt to his feet with a harsh growl. The luminous crimson eyes turned on her and her eyes found the floor, clutching her now empty tray with whitened knuckles. "Are you blind brat, or just stupid?"

"I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean it. I’ll get a droid to clean it up right away." Kitra shook her head, voice quivering as she hoped the commotion would remain small enough to go under her father's radar. 

A flinch rippled through her when a hand clamped down upon her shoulder. When she expected to hear her father's chastising voice - raspy from too much alcohol and death sticks - it was a smooth tone and clipped accent that interrupted the tension instead. "Now, now, Brutus. Let's not terrify the poor girl."

Kitra's eyes trailed along the floor, finding the boots of the man who spoke. A brown duster swept around his legs, and she followed the coat up, finding his face. An amused smile danced across his lips as he looked between herself and the Shistavanen. Dark hair marked with silver was shaved close to his scalp, and the fine lines of age were beginning to set into his forehead. Yet his eyes remained alive with a youthful, mischievous glow.

Her head bowed when his eyes met hers and she bit her lip, expecting to be scolded. "I'm sorry sir," She mumbled, "I'll replace your drinks right away."

"No harm done. Accidents happen, don't they Brutus?" Eyes flickering up, she found the heavy sneer of the Shistavanen still upon her and shivered. 

"Sure, captain." Brutus spat, giving a vexed huff as he threw himself back into his seat. "Just get me my drink, girl. And hurry up about it."

"See, no harm done. Was my fault really, I wasn't watching where I was going." The human male spoke again. Kitra craned her neck back up at him, watching him appraise her, the lines on his forehead deepening in consideration. "Though you're so tiny that I never actually saw you slipping through the crowd in the first place."

Feeling terribly exposed under his gaze, Kitra knelt down, hurriedly collecting the dropped glasses. "Still, I've dropped all your drinks, I should replace them." She spoke fast, ears trying to reach over the din of the crowd to listen for any approaching heavy footsteps. Attracting her father's ire was the worst of her worries. She needed to move swiftly to prevent that from happening. 

"Take your time sweetheart, we can wait."

Once all of the wayward cups had been collected back on the tray - Kitra's boots splashing in the spilled liquor - she stood, sending a shaky smile to the human man. His reassurances hadn’t alleviated her paranoia, but she appreciated him trying. The hands clamping down on her shoulder sent a cold shiver down her spine. "Is my daughter causing you folks any trouble?"

The inhabitants that sat around the table paid no mind to the intruder, continuing with whatever riveting conversations they were having with each other. Her father's words were directed straight towards the human male, the one that Brutus called Captain . His gaze lifted over Kitra's head, landing on the all-encompassing shadow behind her, lips turning down. "Not at all. Just a little accident, nothing to concern yourself over."

The hands on her shoulder squeezed firmly, fingernails digging through the itchy material of her shirt. "Ah, but you see this is my place of business. So accidents are very much my concern. Wouldn't want the customers to think the staff are incompetent now would we?"

Kitra wanted nothing more than to disappear. To slip back into the crowd out of the heaviness placed upon her. But the weight of her father's murderous ire froze her in place as the two men talked over the top of her as though she weren't there.

"Ah, so you must be Fenra then. Nice to meet a businessman who values customer experience." The Captain said, lips twitching up into a smirk that was almost mocking, hands pulling the lapels of his duster back to rest of his hips.

"This is a reputable bar. Ensuring your satisfaction is of utmost importance." Her father responded.

"And that includes the owner getting drunk alongside them whilst his daughter runs around with their drinks?" When she thought the hold on her shoulders couldn't get any tighter, it did. Kitra did her best to hide the grimace that the bruising grip resulted in. With the way the Captain's gaze flickered down to her face, she didn't do a good enough job.

"Are you trying to insinuate something?" Her father's tone stayed even. But Kitra had grown up learning the language of her father's anger. Right now, he was viciously so. 

"Not at all, Fenra. All I – and my men – want is a drink. And you're currently holding our waitress hostage after she so kindly offered to replace what she spilled. Whatever happened to good service." His last words were directed at his crew, who jeered alongside him. Completely oblivious to what was happening in front of them and merely unconsciously following their captain’s lead.

Kitra could tell her father had withered slightly. Could imagine the strained smile pulling at his gaunt features. The Captain's words had disarmed him somewhat, his fingers loosening on her shoulders. She released the breath that was held achingly tight inside her chest. 

"Right." Her father ground out. "My apologies. Consider this round on the house. For the trouble."

“How generous of you.” The captain said with a tight-lipped smile.

The slap on the side of the arm was her cue. Swallowing, she ducked her head down, weaving her way back to the bar, breath falling heavily with each step away from the crushing tension her father's presence had waylaid upon the situation. A dreadful churning stirred in her gut. Part of her hoped that her father would get drunk enough tonight to forget her misgivings. That hope died before it could come to fruition; her father never forgot.

As she waited by the bar – Sita redoing the whole table's order with a vexed roll of her eyes – she chewed at her lip absently, nerves stinging with the sensation of eyes everywhere. The entire bar felt unsafe; as it always did with her father's constantly shifting moods.

Sita replaced the last drink. Heavy fingers gripped at the back of her neck. Kitra swallowed. She'd become so used to her father's heavy-hand and easy violence that she hardly even flinched anymore. When you expect it constantly, it never comes as a surprise. 

Her throat caught when the warmth of his breath hit her ear. "You spill another drink in front of those pirates and you're dead, girl.” He hissed. “Remember what I always said? Terrible things happen with pirates around. I don't need any excuse for them to flippantly decide they want to plunder the place. Do you understand?" Kitra nodded. Any hesitation to answer him would only make things worse. "Good. Now get going before they get even more impatient."

The grip disappeared, and when she turned around, her father's figure had already slipped back into the crowd. Warmth gathered at the bottom of her eyes, but she blinked back any traitorous tears. She learned long ago to never cry. Crying only ever made things worse. Steeling herself, she picked up the tray, hyper-aware of her surroundings as she navigated back to the table. 

Everyone was welcome at Fenra's Dive. It attracted all of the scum in the galaxy. But Fenra always remained vigilant whenever pirates frequented the establishment. Bounty hunters, mercenaries and even assassins could be expected to behave; they worked for others and outside of their job they sought no trouble unless provoked. But pirates were unpredictable. They served themselves and their whims could turn a merry night into an opportunistic plunder. 

Appeasing them was always her father's way of ensuring his bar would never turn into a target, no matter how temptingly lucrative his business became. 

Kitra stayed silent as she returned to the table. The crimson eyes of the Shistavanen still terrified her, and she could feel the heavy weight of the Captain's gaze on her as she passed their drinks around the table. As long as she kept her head down and remained unassuming, she could pretend that her hands weren't trembling. That the back of her neck didn't prickle like there was a fire at her back, ready to swallow her whole.

Before she could escape back into the sanctuary of the crowd, a soft grip on the sleeve of her shirt stopped her. Shoulder's hunching slightly, she anticipated whatever insults or orders may follow. But no words came. Instead, a gloved hand slipped a couple of credits into her palm. When she felt the cold touch of metal, her head flipped up to catch the gaze of the Captain. 

His eyes were blue. She could see that now, where the shadow of the lights had prevented her before. They sparkled with a childish mischief, similar to the street kids she sometimes played with.

Pirates liked to search for trouble. It was known throughout the galaxy that they were ruthless, cutthroat and cared not about the lives they destroyed in their greed-filled pursuits.

But when the Captain winked at her as he handed her the credits, she felt much safer under that gaze than she ever had a single day under her father's care. As she walked away from the table, she had to fight the smile that threatened to curl up on her face.

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The city of Ochnal never slept. With its bustling space port and its reputation as an outpost for miscreants, the planet often found itself inhabiting many wandering souls as a place of refuge, respite and resupply.

Many locals, like Fenra, had taken advantage of the newer population, opening Cantina's and new vendors opening up shop for necessary supplies those of the criminal occupation sought. Food. Fuel. Weaponry. There was even a significant increase in pleasure houses. Unlawful trade had become rampant in recent years once the Imperial presence had died out and the New Republic’s eye remained far from them.

But one thing that hadn't changed since Kitra had been born was the view of the stars. Ochran’s climate may have been dank and dreary, downpours a common pattern in the weather. But when the sky remained clear of clouds at night, the stars shone so brightly with a burning glow. 

It wasn't often Kitra found an opportunity for a break. But when she spied her father passed out at a lone booth in the back of the bar, she took her chance. It was risky, but she told herself she would take thirty minutes to sit down outside and hack away at her current project.

She was pleasantly surprised to find the BD Unit in the scrap heap. It was in terrible condition but she convinced herself she could fix it up. It was something she kept quiet from her father, hopeful that if the droid companion remained secret, he wouldn't take it away. Perhaps then – when she did get it working – she could be a little less lonely.

But the wires weren't fixing themselves in the right ports, far too frayed to stick. And she noticed pieces missing from its circuits that she'd have to buy. The issue was that she had no credits. Apart from the three that the generous pirate captain had slipped to her inside. Not enough to obtain what she needed.

Staring at the optics of the droid in front of her – terribly dark and lifeless – she huffed, craning her neck up to the night sky. So many planets in the galaxy and she was restlessly stuck under the rule of a father who never wanted her. She briefly wondered if the woman who gave birth to her was out there. Somewhere amongst those stars freely traversing the galaxy. Did she ever think of the daughter she left behind thirteen years ago? Kitra doubted it. 

Fenra always reminded her of how her mother – she never even learned her name – had left her upon his doorstep, unwanted and alone. He'd searched for her, to beg her to take the child back. But whoever her mother was had been too prepared; stolen away on a cargo freighter bound for another system. Neither of her parents wanted the burden of a child. Her father had just capitalised on the charge he was given.

When Kitra was old enough to understand words, she'd been taught how to fix droids. She'd been forced to memorise the table layout in the bar and set to work before she'd ever been old enough to comprehend what a job meant. And whenever she stumbled, she was punished for it. Even when she wasn't old enough to understand what she was doing wrong.

But when she grew up, she'd learned.

A knot caught in her throat and she looked down at the BD Unit once more. It stared up at her lifelessly and she could've almost cried at the sight. Was this her future? To be used, discarded and end up in the scrap when she had outlived her purpose. On a backwater planet where no one cared about her existence.

It dawned on Kitra then, that she was destined for a terribly lonely death after a terribly lonely and miserable life. The crushing weight of knowing she was going to live and die on Ochran was a little too much to bear.

A commotion by the stairway down into the bar pulled her focus away from the BD Unit, a recognisable voice echoing out into the night. "I'm just going out for some fresh air, start without me. Be ready for when I come back, because you're all gonna lose your credits."

Whoever the voice was talking to replied inaudibly, causing a cackle to rip from the man coming up the stairs. "I'd like to say I've improved, but we'll soon know for sure won't we?"

A figure, shadowed in between the soft glow of the street lights stepped out into the night. Kitra recognised the brown duster and short hair immediately. The man breathed out a deep sigh, hands placing themselves on his hips. Remaining seated on her crate off to the stairway’s right, Kitra studied him. Without the withering presence of the rest of the crew, his shoulders slumped slightly, as if released of a tonne of pressure.

Inside the bar, he had postured in front of them, a suave confidence pouring out of every patch of skin. Now, he seemed pensive; deep in thought. As though the lack of noise finally allowed him to think. Kitra could understand the feeling. 

The BD Unit toppled over on its unsteady legs. 

The Captain startled at the crash, Kitra's hands fumbling to catch the droid before it fell to the ground. "Kriff." He said. Looking back up, Kitra froze under his surprised gaze. "Karking hell kid, you're quiet."

"Sorry." Kitra mumbled, fiddling with one of the BD Unit's legs.

"Do you do anything other than apologise?" The man said, and Kitra watched the way his brow furrowed, studying her just as she had done him.

"What?" 

"You say sorry a lot." He said it so simply and openly that Kitra felt rather disarmed by the notion.

"Sorry." She murmured again. The man raised his eyebrows and an embarrassed heat rose to her cheeks.

His eyes flickered down to the droid still in her grasp, a curious glint coming over them. "What have you got there?"

Kitra looked down, holding the BD Unit so it could be seen under the glow of the street lamps. "Old BD Unit. Been trying to fix it, but it's missing parts I don't have."

Footsteps approached her, and she felt his shadow hover over the crate she sat on. Looking up, she found his gloved hand outstretched towards the droid. "May I?"

Hesitantly, she placed the BD Unit – back port still hanging open where she was trying to fix the wiring – in his hand. He handled it with unexpected care from someone in his profession. Frown lines deepened as he studied the inside of the rectangular 'head'. "I wondered where you ran off to when you were replaced by a service droid. Hiding away from your father?"

It was hard to swallow the knot in her throat, but she choked it down, shrugging off his question. "In the moments I can." It was an odd sensation, displaying her distaste for her father so brazenly. But with how exposed she felt under the sharpness of the pirates gaze, she already had the sense he could see underneath her skin. One interaction between herself and her father was all it took for this man to tell what was happening. And how frightened she was of the man who created her.

She didn't know whether to be terrified or awestruck.

"He doesn't seem like the most pleasant person to be around. It's a wonder this place hasn't been robbed blind with the lack of security and his knack of goading his own customers." The man said.

Kitra found herself fiddling with the Multi-Tool that lay at her side. "The bar is a favourite spot of the local bounty hunter guild. You try and rob the place."

The man hummed in amusement. "Noted. Kriff, it really is a mess inside this thing. Attachment bolts are missing, which means you'll never connect those wires. Not the hardest to come by though."

"Hard enough when you don't have any credits." Kitra mumbled. It was meant to be to herself, yet the sharp intake of breath above her told her that the man heard her.

The BD Unit was placed down beside her, the man following to occupy the rest of the space on the crate. His hand rested on his knee as he appraised her. "You mean to tell me you do all the work in this place and he doesn't pay you?"

Biting her lip, Kitra nodded, "I mean, I am his daughter. It's my responsibility to him-"

"Bantha-fodder." The man interrupted. "You work. You get paid. That should be the deal. I'm some of the worst scum in the galaxy yet I still split my plunder with the rest of the crew. You'd have a mutiny on your hands otherwise."

Kitra craned her neck up to meet the man's eyes, lips twisting into a confused pout at his words. All of her life she had been told she owed her father her labour. He sheltered her, fed her and clothed her. He fulfilled his responsibility to her and she to him. She'd never known anything else. It was the natural order of things, he'd said. All over the galaxy, children worked for their parents. And if they misbehaved, they were punished.

Kitra never even questioned the lack of bruises on the children she played with in the streets. She just figured they were good children who didn't make mistakes.

As if sensing her inability to comprehend such a simple idea, the man moved past the subject with a heavy frown. He picked up the BD Unit. “So, if you had the right parts, you’d be able to fix this?” Kitra nodded, distrusting her voice. “Can you fix any droid?”

Swallowing, she dipped her head back towards the stairwell. “Fixed all the droids in there.” Fenra always got them for cheap due to their state of ruination. But Kitra was naturally gifted with mechanics. So long as she could fix them, her father didn’t care what state he bought them in.

The Captain leaned away slightly, lips dipping down in a thoughtful frown. "Impressive. What's your name, kid?"

Gulping, she looked away. "It's Kitra."

"Kitra? Kitra." He ruminated on her name for a moment too long, before shaking his head and screwing up his face. "Nah, think I'm just gonna call you Kit."

Kitra felt her lips twitch mildly at his words. Just like when he had slipped her the credits at the table he shared with his crew, him calling her Kit sent a foreign warmth through her chest. "I like that. And what's yours?"

"You can call me Silvo." Silvo. It didn't entirely fit him. Something told her the name wasn't true. She'd heard somewhere that most pirates took on false names. A way of forming a new identity from the one they were running from in the first place. Something that struck more profoundly than their true name.

She couldn't imagine any parent naming their child Brutus .

But Silvo had a lovely ring to it. Like a clear chime of a bell. A comforting whisper in the dark.

"So, have you lived on this – in the nicest way possible – shithole of a planet your whole life?" The crude language pulled a snort out of Kitra. 

"Born and raised." She said. "Though don't let the locals hear you say that. They get defensive."

"I think I can handle the locals." 

Humming, Kitra turned to him again. "Father said you're a pirate."

Silvo held his hands up in surrender. "Guilty as charged."

"So you travel across the whole galaxy? Visiting faraway planets?" She asked.

"When we can." He said, nodding to her question, "We stick to hyperspace lanes mostly. Pillage ships that come our way. Search for treasure ." He leaned in conspiratorially on the last words. When Kitra’s mouth hung open, enthralled, he sat up, letting a small huff of laughter slip. "It's not all glamorous though."

Eyes seeking the stars once again, Kitra smiled wistfully, "Still, must be nice, having that sort of freedom." If she had any other choice, she would've abandoned Ochran a long time ago. But she was a child still. And children remained in the temple of their parents making until they were deemed ready to leave.

Kitra doubted she’d ever be ready to leave. She would never even be let go.

"You want some advice, kid?" Silvo's voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and she turned back to him. His eyes were unreadable, but there was something indescribable about the tiny spark of understanding she found in them. "I've lived many years. And in those years, I've discovered something. People, are obstacles. They attach us to places we don't necessarily want to be in. Sometimes you need to sever what's holding you in place to find your true path in this galaxy." A gloved finger poked towards her chest. "But you have to make that decision for yourself."

In all of her life, Kitra had never heard such sagely advice. Encouraging advice. She grew up with her father's drunken ramblings and jaded insults. Cautionary words that led to a life of being hyper-aware of every step she took. Living in the chilling embrace of fear.

She didn't want to live in terror every single day of life. She wanted to be free of being careful. 

"Have you ever played Sabacc?" 

The swift topic change flipped her brain around, sending it diving right back into confusion. "What?"

"You ever played Sabacc?" Silvo asked again, a considerate frown pulling his brow together.

Once the question fully registered in her mind, she answered hesitantly. "I've played with the other kids around the area."

Nodding to himself, Silvo stood abruptly, sauntering towards the door. "Good. Come on then." Frozen to her place, Kitra watched him go, expression scrunching up in a half-bewildered stare at the man’s flippant attitude. Silvo stopped at the top of the stairway. He turned back to her, nodding his head down the entrance of the bar. "Well, are you coming?"

"To do what?" Apprehension seized her shoulders, stiffening them in place.

"To play Sabacc of course. My crew are starting up a match inside. Now, they're brutal and bloodthirsty when credits are involved, but I have a hunch you can handle them just fine." Silvo stared at her expectantly, yet Kitra remained where she was.

"I-" She began, fiddling with her Mutli-Tool, "I have to get back to work. My father-"

"Your father has been passed out drunk for the last hour. This place really could be robbed blind and he wouldn't even know it." Silvo interrupted. Kitra let his words sink in, knowing he was correct. When her father passed out, very little could wake him.

Irate father aside there was another problem. "I don't have any credits to play with."

Silvo shrugged, cocking his head. "That's fine. Because you're going to be playing with mine."

If Silvo's words hadn't already confused her, his impassive statement had. "You'd- you'd trust me to play Sabacc with your own credits? Why?"

"Call it curiosity." He said.

"Your curiosity is very misplaced."

"Nah. I don't think it is. Now come along. I'll explain along the way."

Kitra looked back down to the BD Unit – its lifeless eyes glaring back up at her – considering Silvo's words. His offer. Pirates were dangerous. A well known fact across the galaxy. Getting mixed-up with them invited all sorts of trouble; a notion her father had instilled upon her when the bar became popular amongst miscreants. And here she was, toeing a treacherous line. 

But Silvo's words had stuck inside her brain. Sometimes you need to sever what ties you to where you are. Kitra didn't want to waste away on a planet that never cared for her. If she could face down a crew of pirates in a game of Sabacc, would that finally give her the courage to make her life her own?

Silvo was also not the only one out of the pair who was curious. 

Tucking the BD Unit under her arm and pocketing the Multi-Tool in her jacket, she hopped off the crate. A self-satisfied smile twitched at Silvo's lips as she followed him back down into the bar.

The noise was still terrible when she entered, but Silvo winding an arm around her shoulder as he steered her through the crowd made it lessen somewhat. Muffled the pulse inside her brain.

"Now, here's the deal." Silvo began, the low murmur of his voice still reaching her through the din. "Something the crew like to hold over my head is the fact that I am terrible at Sabacc. They may respect me as their captain, not so much around the gambling table. The amount of times I have been rinsed for credits by Brutus should be criminal. So, what's going to happen here, is I'll provide the credits, you play. You win, we split the winnings. Sound fair?"

Nodding along, Kitra replied, "What makes you so confident that I'll win?"

"Something tells me there's more to you than what's on the surface. I'm just testing that theory." Amusement laced Silvo's tone as they approached the table. "If there's one thing I like more than credits, it's being proved right. Plus I just want to see the look on Brutus' face when he's bested by a child

They stopped at the edge of the table, several players around it enthralled in a game, heads bowed to their cards. Eyes shifted between their hands and the other players, studying their behaviour. Tracing every single tiny flicker in each other's expression. The rest of the crew loomed around them, hardly breathing in anticipation. 

Silvo's coat shifted beside her as he crouched down to whisper to her. "You're already observing them, that's good. But look at every single detail. Make note of every slip. When the time comes, use it against them."

Swallowing down her nerves, Kitra folded her arms, eyes flickering around each player. They cycled through a trading phase. The woman to Brutus' left, a heavy-set human with tanned skin and a tight braid, discarded a card and picked one from the pile in the middle. Her lips remained still, but a slight twitch at her eye gave away her frustration. Brutus was next, picking a card straight from the deck. His teeth bared, displaying knife-like fangs. Kitra couldn't tell whether it was a grimace or a grin.

The other two players were far easier to read. Another human male, dark-skinned and bald with cybernetic augmentations over his ears and right eye. His mouth remained in a tight-line, but it strained with the card he picked. And finally, a leathery-skinned Quarren whose facial tentacles twitched habitually.

Another few rounds passed – betting, trading, dice – the stakes rising as more credits were added to the pot. The players continued their tense silence, gazes flickering languidly across the table. All background noise disappeared, Kitra keeping her gaze focused on every single play. Cards being placed in the interference field. The way the woman's shoulders relaxed minutely when the dice called for no shift. Brutus' consistently bared teeth.

Kitra shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. "They're very good players. I don't think I can beat them." She whispered to Silvo.

The man crouched down at her again. "Don't let them intimidate you. You have a major advantage against them here." When he didn't elaborate, Kitra turned her head, fixing him with a confused stare. He continued. "Your youth. Let them underestimate you and then pull out something unexpected. That's how you'll win."

Brow furrowing, Kitra went back to watching the game. When they entered the next trading phase, the woman called out with conviction, "Alderaan."

The dark-skinned man winced. The Quarren's tentacles twitched with agitation. Brutus remained unmoved, a statue of resolution. Completing the rest of the trading round – Brutus staying, and the other two making final trades in hopes of a better hand than they obviously had – the round came to an end. 

The dark-skinned man sighed, revealing his cards. "Nineteen."

Chucking down his hand, the Quarren grunted. "Bombed out."

"Tough luck boys." Shaking her head in amusement, the woman placed her cards down, revealing a straight twenty-three.

Brutus barked out a laugh. "Unfortunate for you, Kona." The Shistavanen's hand was revealed. Minus twenty-three. "Was about to call Alderaan myself."

"Damn you, Brutus."

The surrounding crew erupted into cheers, the noise eliciting a flinch from Kitra. With a familiar paranoia creeping up the back of her neck, her head darted around the bar, searching for a familiar mop of dark hair that sent pitiful dread surging through her bones. He always appeared with noise. 

The arm that remained around her shoulder squeezed. Not the harsh clamp of her father’s finger, but half-reassuring. It brought her back to the table, and Silvo murmured to her again. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye out for daddy dearest. You just keep your focus on the game."

Nodding, Kitra steeled herself. Fighting off the apprehension that felt like a second skin, she glanced at the table again. Silvo had placed an unfamiliar sense of faith in her. A desperate part, hidden deep down inside her, wanted to prove herself to him.

"Who wants to continue trying their luck?" Brutus’ rasp sailed above the pulsating noise of the crowd.

Silvo stood up straight, nudging her forward. "Got room for another player?"

All heads turned to their captain, passing straight over the flighty girl standing next to him. Brutus chuckled from his spot at the table. "You asking to be rinsed of credits again captain?"

Silvo shook his head, "Not me. Her." The dip of his head directed their attention to her. Multiple eyes bore holes into Kitra's skin, and her scratchy shirt began feeling tight and uncomfortable; her mind self-inflicting an imagined constriction on her chest. Swallowing back shallow breaths, she attempted to make herself stand tall. To not wither away under the angry red eyes of the Shistavanen.

He grinned menacingly. "Does the brat even know how to play?"

Running her tongue over her suddenly dry lips, she forced herself to speak. "I know the rules." 

A white lie. Amongst the street kids who played Sabacc – betting trinkets found in the scraps, measly pocket-change and food – she had learned to best them all. And when it came to games, children could be as brutal as any pirate. But she didn't have to tell them that. Silvo was correct. She was young. They'd underestimate her. Let them think she was clueless all they like. Because when she played their game and played it well, she'd be the one laughing.

"Ah, what the hell." The Quarren muttered, standing from his chair. "I'm out of creds anyway. She can take my spot."

"How gracious of you Glerb." Silvo said, pushing her forward by the shoulders towards the now empty seat. It placed her directly opposite Brutus, who sneered down at her. Suppressing a shiver, she peered back up at Silvo, who patted her shoulder encouragingly. "Remember everything I said. Here." A large pouch was produced from his waistband, being placed down on the table with a resounding clink.

The terrible noise of the bar died down.

"Still risking your own credits, captain?" Brutus asked.

"Not a risk if she wins." Silvo said, the suave confidence he'd displayed all evening shielding him from any taunt Brutus threw his way. It was awe-inspiring, how easily he could place that posturing mask on again.

"Not a chance." Brutus’ statement remained unanswered. Instead, Silvo’s lips twitched up, a self-assured smirk on his face as he turned his gaze to Kitra one last time. Prove me right , he mouthed, sending her one last spirited wink.

Stifling down the last of her nerves, Kitra turned back to the pouch in front of her, pulling the credits out and stacking them on the table. Locking eyes with Brutus across the table, she remained resolute under his withering glare. The red eyes had made her want to hide before. To disappear back into the crowd where she'd gone unnoticed her whole life.

But newfound determination would see her through. She was tired of hiding. Living a life in fear was exhausting and weighed on her so heavily that if she remained any longer, she’d be sure to perish. If she could take on an entire table of pirates in a game of Sabacc, she felt like she could take on the entire galaxy. 

The woman – Kona – was selected as the dealer. Each player paid their ante; a credit each into the Sabacc pot. The cards were shuffled, two passed out to each player. Brutus had not backed down, pulling Kitra into an unwitting staring match. She held his venomous gaze as best she could.

Kona's deep baritone pulled her out of it. "Left of the dealer pays the blind, kid. Forgotten the rules already?"

There was no slip-up on her part. She hadn’t forgotten the rules. It was purposeful; playing the foolish, naive kid that was in over her own head. The rumbling chuckle around the table told her the act was bought and sold. Perfect. She was ready to pull the rug out. Picking up a credit from her pile, she flicked it up, its trajectory landing it directly in the centre of the table. Instead of nerves prickling her gut, a thrilling anticipation buzzed in her bones. With one last glance at Silvo, she sent the man a swift wink, allowing her lips to twitch upwards ever so slightly, before picking up her cards.

The game had begun. And she was going to win.

Chapter Text

TWO  I  NO SHIFT THIS ROUND

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

When dealt a bad hand, there were many ways one could improve it. By examining the context, one could find a solution that won them the game. In a game like Sabacc, patience was key. At first, when the cards may seem stacked against you, with a little luck and some strategic thinking – a little risk could never hurt either –  the path to victory could emerge through the fog.

By learning to play Sabacc with other kids her age, Kitra had learned a lot about the subtle warfare of card games. Restraint and fortitude were required. Street kids were hardly ever patient. They relied on good fortune and pure luck to deal them the right cards; never thought about the further picture. There were a few that did. Who considered the road ahead of them and calculated their odds. Those had been worthy opponents who helped Kitra build her skills.

Playing against pirates was an entirely different story.

Kitra would never have guessed – in all of the impulsive whims and unpredictable violence expected of them – that pirates would practice such patience. Evidently gambling was taken as a far more serious matter. With their greatest treasure on the line – credits – she could understand the momentous weight of their commitment to the game. 

Kona’s face remained steadfast. Lips tightened to avoid any slight movements. Any time she traded, Kitra’s eyes found that corner of her eye that unconsciously twitched. The dark-skinned man – whose name she had learned was Gunter – gave away his tells in the minute pursing of his mouth. His one visible eye was heavy-lidded and sunken, giving him a constant dour expression.

Her biggest issue remained Brutus. The Shistavanen’s eyes remained on her, menacing leer setting her nerves alight with fitful apprehension. His gameplay was to intimidate her; into folding or backing out of risky moves she didn’t know. She did her best to appear that she wasn’t affected by it.

A heavy blanket of tension shrouded the table the second the game started. Three rounds had passed by, Kitra attempting to improve the worst starting hand she had received since learning how to play.

A Three of Sabers. And The Evil One, which numbered at Minus Fifteen. The second round, after betting a single credit – being called by every other player – she had discarded the Minus Fifteen, picking up a Five of Staves. Still not great. That put her total up to eight. But with a little luck, she could make up for it with a card of greater value.

In the next round, she picked up a Two of Coins. Cursing inside her head but keeping her face neutral, she watched for any slips in her opponents. None were visible. When Brutus drew a card without discarding, he sneered down at her.

The pile of credits in the centre had stacked up to twelve. Equal calls on each of their parts. There was something telling about the lack of risk. Kitra considered whether to shake the game up. She had a bad hand, yes, but pulling such a bluff could make the others sweat a little. Far easier for slip ups when they were nervous.

With the trading phase over, Kona rolled the dice. Kitra remained relaxed as they rolled, coming to a stop on opposite symbols. “No shift this round. Place bets.”

All eyes turned to Kitra. Since she placed the blind, she was the first to bet each round. Pursing her lips, she met Brutus’ eyes across the table. They pierced through her as she took three credits, adding them to the stack. There was a sharp intake of breath to her right. Her eyes flickered over to see Gunter glaring at her out of the corner of her eye. Scanning over the table to Kona, the woman remained impassive. Lastly, Brutus bared his teeth silently. 

“Bold, brat.” The Shistavanen leaned forward. “But I’ll bite.”

The others called, and her racing heart relaxed slightly. Feeling eyes upon her, Kitra’s gaze flickered over to her left, where Silvo stood, watching the game with keen interest. He tilted his head in amusement when he caught her stare. A flood of determination seeped through to her, and she focused back in. 

Trading began. Kitra picked up a card. Master of Sabers, numbered at fourteen. That put her in a precarious situation. If anyone called Alderaan this round, she would bomb out. Plus her deck was made up of low numbered cards. She could take a gamble on discarding one of them for a lower value – such as the five for a four or lower. But the odds were already thin.

Or she could get rid of arguably her best card and risk getting cards of lower value to stack up her deck again. There was another choice. An extremely risky choice. But Sabacc was all about weighing the risks to reap the rewards.

The trading phase ended. Kona discarded and picked up. Gunter and Brutus both picked up.

The dice were rolled. No matching symbols. “No shift this round. Place bets.”

Heart hammering heavily, Kitra felt the heat raise up her neck. Keeping herself impassive, she placed two credits. The rest called. New trading phase. 

Moving without hesitation – hesitation could be viewed as a sign of nerves – Kitra placed her Master of Sabers in the interference field. A ripple of breaths and chuckles passed through the crowd at her play. Ignoring them, she discarded her five, and picked up. Seven of Flasks. Now she had twenty-six. Even worse.

She knew it was a risky move. If the game allowed for singular discards she could’ve won this by getting rid of her three. But she couldn’t.

Not allowing the slip-up to get the best of her emotions, she waited patiently as the round finished. Brutus grimaced as he discarded and pulled a card from the deck. From the glimmer of satisfaction she caught in his gaze, she knew he had a good hand. Good enough to win, she didn’t know. If he called Alderaan next round and she pulled another bad card, this game was over. There was only one action she could hope for.

Kona picked up the dice and rolled them. Not realising she was holding her breath, Kitra watched them fall, the first coming to a stop. The second teetered on a corner, before wobbling over and ricocheting to a halt. The symbols matched.

Kitra had to bite the inside of her lip to stop them from twitching up. 

“Shift.”

Placing her cards upon the discard pile, Kitra observed her opponents closely as Kona picked up the remaining deck, shuffling it and handing out two fresh cards to each of them.

She was the only player with a card in the interference field. It could be to her benefit or her downfall. She prayed for the former. Meeting Brutus’ challenging glare, she watched the way his mouth curled down ever so slightly. He did have a good hand. And now he didn’t.

Their new hands would dictate the outcome of this game. 

Placing one credit on the pile, the rest following her actions, she picked up her new card. She could’ve almost laughed.

A Seven of Staves and Three of Coins. Pure Sabacc. She had a potential winning hand. Question was, did she call Alderaan now, whilst it was her turn on the trading phase, or did she risk another round. Eyes shifting to her left, she met Silvo’s gaze again. The man’s subtle wink gave her the rush of confidence she needed. 

“Stay.” She said simply. Gunter on her left, paused, tilting his head in consideration. Brutus glowered at her across the table. The sharp eyes of Kona flickered her way, lips twitching up in amusement. 

Gunter went next, discarding and drawing. His lips tightened. When Brutus picked up a new card from the deck, his beady red eyes met hers challengingly, snout wrinkling up. He said nothing, placing his card in his hand. A chilling uncertainty trickled down Kitra’s spine. She grit her jaw, steeling her nerves.

Kona was the last to draw. No reaction of note came from her.

Now came the part Kitra was anticipating most. The dice. This would seal her fate. Biting the inside of her cheek, a lump appeared in her throat. The heat of cold stares combined with the heavy weight of suspense forced the acidic taste of bile to rise in her throat. She desperately hoped her gamble paid off.

The dice flew across the table, the world slowing down as Kitra watched them. The first stopped just short of the pot. Her eyes fixed themselves on the second. It teetered on its axis, looking like it was going to drop on the side matching the first. The thudding of her heart made it feel as though it would leap out of her chest. Rushing filled her ears as she watched it, muffling the noise of the bar. It landed resolutely on a side that didn’t match. 

Kitra’s shoulders relaxed, and she let her held breath go slowly. 

The noise around her came back full-force. “No shift this round.”

All that remained was the Betting. To her calculations the current pot value sat at thirty-six credits. A reasonable amount. But she could push for more. It depended on how confident Brutus was with his current hand.

Picking up four credits, she placed them in the pile.

Gunter called it. All eyes turned to Brutus. Menace laced his stare as he sneered down at her, but he remained silent as he picked up five credits. The game was on. Kona sucked at her teeth, before placing her hand down. “I fold. This isn’t my battle clearly. Good luck, kid.”

The attention turned back to Kitra, and she almost wavered under it. Instead, she held Brutus’ stare, filing herself into an impassiveness. She added an extra two on top of her four, raising it to six. 

A sigh to her left. Gunter chucked his cards down. “You two can fight this one out.”

Brutus curled his snout up again. “Looks like it’s down to just us two. You sure you wanna stay, brat?”

“I’m sure.” Kitra said.

“Good. I’ll raise it.” He added another three to his five. Taking it up to eight. 

Silently, Kitra bit the inside of her lip. She could call it here. A rather tempting fifty-six. But it could be higher. Brutus was oozing confidence, and it appeared he would rather risk his credits than admit defeat against a child. Kitra was going to use that against him.

She added another four credits, raising her bet to ten.

A chuckle rippled through the crowd. Whispering reached her ear, and she heard a crew member say to their captain, “She’s certainly a bold one.”

“She’s got this round in the palm of her hand. She realised Brutus would never admit defeat, now she’s just rinsing him.” Silvo responded lowly. She took his words as a sign. 

Stilling her trembling hands, she watched Brutus place another three credits, raising to eleven.

She added another three. Twelve.

“Call.” Brutus said, placing a final credit in the pot.

Lips twitching up, she said. “Alderaan.”

The game was over, with Brutus staying on his turn in the final trading round. He lay his hand out, knife-like fangs on show as his hulking shoulders leaned forward. “I’d like to see a clueless brat beat that.”

Eyes lowering to his cards, Kitra scanned over them. Moderation and Demise. Minus fourteen and minus thirteen respectively. Adding in a Five of Coins took his total to minus twenty-two. A great hand. But not beating hers.

Every head surrounding them turned upon Kitra. She fed their anticipation by lowering her eyes slowly to her cards and humming thoughtfully. She could taste the withheld breath in the air, the way everyone surrounding her leaned closer. Letting her shoulders tense up, she turned her gaze back to Brutus.

“What? You so embarrassed you can’t bear to reveal your hand?” He snarled to her.

“No.” Kitra said. “Just wondering whether I’d embarrass you , actually.” With that, she set her cards down with care, allowing everyone to bear witness to her flawless hand. “Sabacc.”

Everything happened at once. Brutus' jaw fell open slightly, freezing him in place. The rest of the crowd erupted into disbelieving cheers, those near her immediate space slapping her on the back. A joyous atmosphere encompassed her, ripping a smile onto her face and sending a surge of pride through her as she looked around, catching their commendations and amused expressions.

“Good play, kid.” Kona said, shaking her head at her.

“It was indeed, wasn’t it Kona?” An arm settled itself over her shoulder, and Kitra’s neck craned up to find Silvo to her immediate left. He looked down at her with a close-lipped smile, eyes sparkling with mischief. He cocked his head towards her, eyes flickering over to Kona. “Knew she had it in her.”

Warmth settled over her at his words, a rippling pride that threatened to burst out of her. Her cheeks hurt from smiling up at him, and he nodded to the pile. “Well then, go on and collect your winnings.”

Laughing, she pulled the stacks of credits over. Sixty-four from the hand pot plus the four from the Sabacc pot. Sixty-eight in total. An empty pouch was placed on the table in front of her and her gaze returned to Silvo. “Take your half, kid. You’ve earned it.”

Upon the reminder of their deal, the edges of her lips dropped slightly. That amount of money… she’d never be able to hide it from her father. He would notice.

“I– I couldn’t.” She shook her head.

“Why not.” Silvo looked rather taken aback. “That was the deal. Half each.”

“I just–” She lowered her voice, mumbling, “My father would find it.”

Silvo shook his head with a short huff. He reached for the pouch, counting out the credits as he chucked them in. “You need to stop living your life based on one man’s views, or actions or whatever. Take the damn credits kid, and just find a good place to hide them. You’ve got one good Sabacc face, I’m sure you can manage it.”

Once he had finished, he grabbed her arm, placing the pouch inside her hand and closing her fingers over it. Peering up at him, Kitra couldn’t help the surge of pride that warmed her. She seldom felt that form of surety outside of playing Sabacc with the kids on the street. There was no warmth found in Fenra’s Dive, and Kitra’s cupboard-sized room above the main bar – barely sizeable enough for a thin mattress a tattered blanket – was achingly cold and lonely. 

Having faith placed in her and seeing the pay-off in the glint of gratification in Silvo’s eyes, there was a reverence she basked in from it.

Clattering pulled their attention back to Brutus, who had come out of his fugue, standing abruptly. Beady, crimson eyes landed on her and she swallowed the shifting nerves that flared up. “Brat must’ve cheated. There’s no way she won that fairly.”

Silvo held up a placating hand, tilting his head. “Now, let’s not pull the cheating card just because you lost, Brutus. We were all watching that game closely. If she cheated, someone would’ve seen.” The rest of the crew responded with a rapturous ‘aye’. “Besides, we’re pirates. She can cheat all she likes so long as she doesn’t get caught.”

The man’s defense of her gave her the jolt of confidence she needed to defend her own honour. “I didn’t cheat. I never cheat.” She tilted her chin up in defiance. “I’ve just had a lot of practice.”

A low growl rumbled from Brutus’ curled up snout. A large, tanned hand clapped him on the shoulder. “Give it up Brutus. You lost. We all did.” Kona said, tilting her head in Kitra’s direction with a mirthful smirk on her face. “Kid played a blinding game.”

Kitra had to press her lips together to stop herself from smiling. 

Ripping his shoulder from the woman’s grasp, Brutus sat back down. “I need a drink. Matter of fact, why aren’t you serving us anymore, brat. That's your job isn’t it?”

“A question I’m asking myself.” Kitra almost choked on the sharp intake of breath that the familiar, chilling voice induced. It was slurring and almost incoherent, but recognisable nonetheless. Ducking her head down as her shoulders seized up, Kitra swiftly shoved the pouch of credits inside her shirt, hoping the action escaped her fathers gaze. With Silvo creating a tall barrier between herself and the man, for once it maybe did.

Lips quivering, she watched out of the corner of her eye as Silvo circled around slowly to face her father. Even from behind his dusty brown coat, she could feel her father’s baleful gaze and murderous intent. Her fingernails dug into her thighs. Part of her wanted to keep ducked out of sight; use Silvo’s figure as an indestructible shield to keep hidden. Because despite being a pirate – and most likely embodying all of the attributes that word alluded to – right now, she felt far safer behind him than she had ever in her father’s constricting embrace. 

“Do you want to tell me why you're slacking off, girl?” Fenra spat. There was no use in pretending he wasn’t there. Like she could write off his existence alongside the consequences she faced for being caught. They would be dire.

“I– I–” Kitra couldn’t find the words with the muddling panic seizing her brain. No amount of excuses would placate her father.

Slow footsteps approached the table, and Kitra withered in her seat. Biting her lip, she watched her father stop next to Silvo, an arm settling on the table where Gunter previously sat. Silvo shuffled back slightly. Just a step closer to her to remain the stepping stone between her and her father’s wrath. She appreciated the gesture but there was no reassurance in it this time. 

“I– I–” Her father mocked. “Speak up, girl. I want to know who gave you permission to slack off. What excuse do you have this time?”

“There’s no need for that, mate.” Silvo’s voice remained unmoved within her father’s warpath. “She was simply providing us some entertainment. Isn’t that what you do for your customers.”

The crushing weight of her father’s stare lifted off Kitra momentarily. But it provided her no relief. “That isn’t her job. Her job is to remain silent and serve the drinks. Not run amuck with a bunch of miscreant pirates.”

“Whatever happened to customer satisfaction? We just wanted her to entertain us with a game of Sabacc.” Daring to take a peek of the situation, Kitra lifted her head slightly. Silvo met her father’s irate gaze, not backing away. With the rest of his crew glaring her father down, she understood how he could remain so confident in the face of such wrath.

She wished she could display that much defiance. But Fenra ensured long ago that defiance was never in her nature. 

Her father looked terribly haggard. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dark hair sticking to it. Glazed over eyes couldn’t quite find purchase on any particular face other than Kitra’s. He could barely stand straight, remaining upright only through sheer anger and spite. Kitra didn’t even have to be standing next to him to know his breath reeked with the sharp tang of whiskey.

“I think you’re overstepping here, pirate . She’s my daughter. And I say that her job is to serve drinks.” His gaze snapped to her, and Kitra finally met her father’s eyes. The enraged glint promised punishment and she gulped down her anxiety. Facing ruthless pirates in a game of Sabacc had done nothing to quell the instilled fear that had she had been steeped in her whole life. “What are you doing gawking, girl? Get back to work.”

The sharpness of his tone spurred her into action, jumping out of her seat to move past Silvo. A hand grasping her shirt stilled her. Craning her neck up to the culprit, she found Silvo sending her father a strained, tight-lipped smile. A glint passed through his eyes, something gleaming and dangerous. “Give us one more game. We were just getting warmed up, weren’t we Kit?” He jostled Kit’s arm slightly, but she remained as still as a statue. The lump in throat made her feel utterly nauseous. The tangible, vanquishing weight of her father’s eyes turned on her, adding to the acidic taste in her mouth.

She wanted to disappear. To materialise into nothing so she could escape. This was a mistake. She should never have accepted Silvo’s offer. Nothing escaped her father’s attention, even when encumbered by the haze of drunkenness. Consequences would find her for her actions; if not that night then the next.

Kitra was ripped from Silvo’s loose grasp by a bruising grip on her arm. Stumbling, she was pulled tight to her father’s side, fingers crushing the flesh of her arm. “I believe you’ve overstayed your welcome. I want you and your crew out of my bar.”

Silence met him. Uneasy and full of rife tension as all joviality slipped from every surrounding face. Kitra withered under the weight of it all, unsure of what was about to happen. Brutus looked ready to rip the table off its legs. Kona stepped around to Silvo’s side, hand reaching for her side. Kitra caught the glint of black durasteel and the bulky shape of a blaster.

All their captain did was raise a hand, stilling all violent intent that his crew may have exuded. His lips pulled into a tight smile, gaze flickering between Kitra and her father. “Very well.” His head leaned back slightly as he addressed his crew; mirthless and sardonic. “It appears our credits are no longer good enough for this place. Shall we find somewhere else?” A chorus of ‘aye’s’ followed.

“I best not see you back here.” Fenra spat.

Meeting his gaze, Silvo shrugged with a mocking frown. “You need not worry. We’re only planning on staying in this shithole for the one night anyway.” A funny look passed across his face, almost scheming and malicious. He leaned in, cocking his head at Fenra. “Hope you sleep well tonight.”

Fenra dignified his statement by spitting on the floor at Silvo’s feet. “Get out of my bar.” Kitra gulped, a chilling shiver running down her spine at the dark glint in Silvo’s eye. The man looked down at the floor, humming sharply, before lifting his gaze back up. 

But Kitra was already being pulled away roughly, a bruising grip crushing her arm. Fretful nerves made her skin itch, eyes burning with warning tears. She forced them down. Don’t cry. Crying makes it worse. She was expecting to be hauled back to the bar, set back to work with a grinding warning about her ensuing punishment. Instead, her father bypassed the crowd of customers, to the back corridor. Inputting the code, the door opened and he shoved her up the stairs, the forceful impact of his boots on the stairs behind her sending jolts of terror through her.

She kept moving. Any falter in her steps would worsen his mood. Tugging on her shirt once they reached the top, he imputed the code to her paltry room, shoving her through the open doorway hard enough that she tripped onto the floor. A jolt of pain ricocheted through her knees. 

“Just what the kriff were you doing with those pirates, girl.”

“You– you said–”

“I said what? What exactly did I say?” Fenra spat.

Kitra gulped, keeping her head down; docile. “You said to keep them happy– so they wouldn’t plunder the place.”

“That didn’t mean shirking your work to play cards with them! You are meant to stay silent! Not attract attention. Least of all pirate attention.” Her father’s shadow loomed over her, blocking out any light that filtered in from the corridor. Kitra’s hands trembled against the icy durasteel floor, arms threatening to give way.

“I’m sorry.” She muttered, shallow breath making her apology raspy and unintelligible. 

“What?” 

“I’m sorry.” She said louder, ducking her head down in case her father’s fists went flying.

Silence met her, interrupted only by Fenra’s heaving breaths and Kitra’s shuddering gasps. Eventually, her father let out a long sigh. “I’m too tired to deal with you tonight. So you’re going to stay in here, and I don’t want to hear a single peep out of you. I’ll deal with you tomorrow, girl. You’ve made an utter fool of me tonight and you know I don’t take that lightly.”

Biting her lip, Kitra nodded silently. If she talked back now, the consequences would only worsen for her. The door slid closed, leaving her stranded in a dark, isolating room. Her father had long ago dismantled the control panel on the inside, allowing him to lock her away whenever the desire hit him.

Shoulders shuddering, Kitra held in racking sobs until Fenra’s footsteps disappeared. Even then, she only let them escape in tiny, rasping sounds – almost choking on them while holding them in so tightly.

She thought she’d found some pinprick of light in this galaxy. Bravery didn’t often come to her, but when it did, it would instantly be squashed by the domineering force her life was centered around. Fenra Halon had weaved his chain so tightly around her that any thought of defiance or – Maker will it – escape was erased from her mind before it even came to fruition. What could she do? She was a child with no experience of the rest of the galaxy. She could hardly barter passage on a ship to the next system. And even if she did, what then? Scrape and struggle, desperation not to starve driving her to act like an animal.

She would die on this planet. The bars of her cage were built resolutely from loneliness by violent fists; they constantly buried her in the reminder that she was unwanted. A burden. Her existence was pitiful and it was only at her father’s behest that she had as little as she did. But at what cost?

Silvo had shown her that courage lay dormant in her. He’d seen through what she tucked away everyday and extended her a wisdom-filled branch. You have to decide for yourself, he had said. He was only encouraging her to take his advice and decide for herself what to do with it.

But what could she do? Even her BD Unit, which provided some thought of resolution to her loneliness, had been in Silvo’s hands when her father had interrupted the game. The droid had been in the pirate's possession for safe-keeping whilst she was playing. There went her fickle chance to have at least one friend; as much as a friend who only spoke binary, which she couldn’t understand, could be.

Crawling over to her thin mattress – it did nothing to stave off the hardness of the floor – she sat back and rubbed her aching knees. A soft clink reminded her of the bounty she’d earned that night. Sniffling, she wiped at her itching eyes and pulled the pouch out from where she had hastily tucked it underneath her shirt. 

Something stirred in her at the sight of the handful of credits. A dormant, determined spirit. She’d experienced it when playing; that latent thrill that ran through her as she gambled Silvo’s money away. She’d bested three seasoned pirates in a game of Sabacc and yet she could not escape from under her father’s shadow. Pathetic didn’t even begin to describe it.

For the first time in Kitra’s life, she’d recognised the chance she was given. Whilst the credits were nowhere near enough to barter passage off the planet, it was a start. Fenra Halon’s dictation over her life had to stop. Sometimes you need to sever what's holding you in place to find your true path in this galaxy . She had to sever the rot in her life. That began with Fenra Halon. 

Standing up, Kitra peered out of the slats in the tiny window of her room. Above, the stars glimmered temptingly, enticing her to follow them to distant worlds she’d never tasted before. A different path called for her. She would not die on this planet, she resolved.

The dice were rolling inside her head, one teetering upon the edge of oblivion or re-ignition. A shift was destined to occur; sometimes the dice just needed that extra push to fall to the correct side. Matching symbols. 

She’d chosen rei-gnition.

That night, she slept peacefully for the first time in a long time. Threats would not keep her awake; tossing and turning and flinching with every footstep that echoed outside her door. She would not let them. A foreign fire had engulfed her chest, fuelled by a new determination Captain Silvo had bestowed upon her.

The blinking stars lulled her into the plain of dreams; her mind conjuring dense forestry, brimming with life, the shifting dunes of sand and endless, deep oceans teeming with unknown creatures. Things she’s only heard in passing from smugglers, bounty hunters and pirates. Closer and closer those distant, foggy images came within her reach.

She was granted the softest of dreams that night. 

Ignorant to the commotion tearing the bar apart below her.

Chapter Text

THREE  I  YOU'LL BE LEFT HERE WONDERING

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

When they'd landed upon Ochran to refuel and resupply the frigate, Silvo immediately formed a deep hatred of the planet. It was cold, dreary and the people were pushy. As a pirate, he could've respected their hustle. They certainly understood the increasing supply and demand amongst the more... unlawful of the galaxy. But as a conman himself, he knew when he was being scammed. That, he didn't appreciate.

The one blessing in the damp atmosphere was the local nightlife. Kona's discovery of the seedy dive bar was the exact pick me up his crew needed. It was everything Captain Silvo enjoyed. Flowing drinks, a crowd of less than decent people – people like him – and the woman behind the bar wasn't too bad to look at. It made being stuck on the shit hole of a planet somewhat worth it.

Then along came something unexpected. The girl. At first, she was nothing more than a wisp in his mind. He'd clocked the short, dark-haired figure sweeping through the crowd with heavy trays, but hadn't given it any second thought. Until she'd snuck up on him and he'd sent the contents of her tray tumbling right onto Brutus' boots.

For a brief moment, he'd been jarred. Normally, at the height of his perceptive abilities, he'd have noticed her approach. He hadn't. Her silent, wraith-like appearance intrigued him at first. She was flighty and terrified whilst cleaning up the mess, and when the owner of the bar locked his hands around her shoulders, it made sense. He'd immediately recognised the way her face paled, ghostly-white and sickly. The trembling in her hands heightened.

Silvo did not pity the unfortunate. The galaxy was an unkind place and he'd experienced its particular brand of misfortune first hand. But this young, terrified girl stirred something deep inside him that he hadn't felt in a long time. Seeing the elusive smile on her face when he'd handed her the couple of credits elicited the first stroke of empathy he'd experienced that night.

Later in the evening, when seeking some fresh air outside, he'd stumbled across her again. In that short conversation he'd learned much more about her. The child had suffered her whole life. The way she'd looked up at the stars with hunger in her gaze sent him stumbling back in time. To when he was starving himself.

You could tell a lot about a person during a game of Sabacc. The way they played, strategies they used and the way they held themselves under pressure spoke volumes. It was the perfect ploy to figure out the lengths this girl might go to to be free of her shackles. To pursue that hunger. Perhaps he could instill some sense of desperation in her, strong enough for her to free herself of this place and pursue whatever desires lay dormant under that mane of thick, black hair.

All of his expectations had been met, plus more. Brutus, like his name suggested, was one of his crew's most brutal players. Little Kit hadn't shied away from the pressure he'd placed her under. When she had the game in the palm of her hands – not without a little subtle manipulation of the dice from his end – she took risks not many would. It was enlightening and entertaining.

Until Fenra had to spoil the fun.

It was clear word of the exploits of 'Mad' Captain Silvo had yet to reach Ochran. That might have to change after the blatant disrespect Fenra had shown them. He was going to leave the bar alone – he wouldn't admit it was out of courtesy for the child – but after what went down, that plan had changed.

Fenra knelt before him, hair even further dishevelled than when they'd last met and a swelling bruise over his cheek. Gunter stood beside him, a prevalent shadow discouraging him from fighting or running. The way his eyes flickered between Gunter's blaster and the door, he was betting if given the choice, he'd take the coward's way out. Sickening.

Chaelt, Kona and Glerb shifted around the bar, rifling through shelves and raiding the hidden nooks for treasures that a business as lucrative as Fenra's no doubt had stashed away.

Watching it all with a keen eye and lazy smirk was Captain Silvo. Leaning against the backrest of the bar-stool, feet hung upon the counter, he twisted a knife in his hand. It didn't escape his notice how Fenra's eyes flickered to it uneasily.

Humming faintly, he looked around. "You know, I really liked this place. My crew was having a good time until you kicked us all out."

"Why are you doing this?" Fenra asked, the split on his lip widening as he grimaced.

"Didn't you just hear me?" Silvo said. "You kicked us out, disrespected us. Now I don't take that kind of thing lightly."

"You pirate scum won't get away with this. The local bounty hunters guild loves this place. They'll have your heads." Fenra hissed out.

Silvo's gaze turned upon him. Pointing the knife in his direction, he said, "Hmm, your daughter mentioned that. Don't worry. I'm not going to entirely ruin the place. I'm a reasonable man. Just let us know where you keep your credits and we'll be on our way."

"No, please. I need that money to keep this place afloat. You can have anything else. You– my daughter– You enjoyed her company right? Take her if you want, please just leave this place."

Sitting up straight, Silvo hopped onto his feet, strolling languidly over. The desperate look in Fenra's eyes, forehead plastered in sweat, made him look pathetically weak. A swell of outrage bubbled slowly in his gut at the words he spoke. Minute as it was, it still stirred at his lack of morals.

No, Captain Silvo didn't often feel pity for the unfortunate. But he couldn't help but pity this girl whose father was so willing to give her up for a handful of credits. There wasn't a lot Silvo wouldn't do for credits. They were the only thing that mattered in this cruel, heartless galaxy. But even in his mind, that was a new low.

He reflected upon the conversation he'd had earlier that evening after being kicked out of the bar.

"What's on your mind Captain?" Chaelt had asked as she trailed beside them on their way back to their transport ship.

"Was just thinking. It's a shame is all." He said.

"What's a shame?"

Humming to himself, he glanced over at the short, stout woman. She was a formidable fighter and probably one of the more loyal members of his crew. A stickler for the code, she didn't allow any dishonour of it to go unnoticed or unpunished. He threw his back in the direction they came from off-handedly. "So much potential wasted on this backwater planet."

"You mean the girl?" Chaelt's brow furrowed. Silvo nodded. "Then why don't you recruit her?"

The thought had run across his mind. But the girl couldn't be older than twelve or thirteen. There was no place on a pirate crew for a child. Shaking his head, he sent Chaelt a light-hearted scoff. "Could you imagine a brat running around the ship whilst we go on raids?"

Chaelt shrugged. "All I will say is we could use a deck-hand. The upkeep of the ship has been neglected. Half our crew can't fit into the small spaces to fix the things that need fixed and the programming of our droids is much to be desired. They can't fix shit."

Silvo's brow furrowed in consideration at her words. If there was one thing he could count on, it was Chaelt's understanding of logistics. Where the majority of his crew followed their base, primal instincts, Chaelt's level-headedness often made him see reason through the so-called madness.

He looked down at the BD-Unit in his hands. It had remained in his possession for safe-keeping throughout the game, and he hadn't had the opportunity to return it with Fenra's blightful interruption. Now, unintentionally, he had kept hold of it. Something stirred in his mind, almost over-ridden by the tight swell of excitement in his chest. One that appeared when his ceaseless hunger struck.

"I know that look, Captain. You've got a scheme up your sleeve." Chaelt said, an apprehensive edge to her voice.

Pursing his lips, Silvo caught her gaze. "I think Fenra needs to know he's just upset the wrong people. What do you say?" He threw the question back to the rest of the crew who trailed behind them, "How about a little plundering whilst we're here."

A chorus of cheers erupted, startling the civilians that bustled around them.

Silvo made good on his word. But he'd only taken a few of his crew. He wanted to keep this quiet so they wouldn't attract the attention of local bounty hunters. Wouldn't want the fun to be impeded on before they could get to the good bit.

Pursing his lips, he looked down upon the man kneeling before him. How anybody could respect a man such as Fenra Halon, he'd never know. "Nah." He said, shaking his head. "Not really in the stealing kids business."

"Then what do you want?"

Crouching down to meet his eye-level, Silvo stared into the man's panicked eyes, relished in the way his throat bobbed in fright. "We've been through this already. I just want your credits."

Heavy footsteps approached from the back corridor. "Found a safe, Captain."

Silvo's mouth pulled into a wry smile. "There we are. Now, why don't you tell us the code. Not that we can't blast it open ourselves, but it would make it easier on all of us if you just gave us the code." Fenra's lips remained sealed. Grasping him tightly by the chin, Silvo pulled his face up uncomfortably close. "The code. Or things are about to get real messy. And I'd hate to wake the kid up with your screams. Though–" He chuckled to himself, "I'm sure she wouldn't mind seeing you put through some of the same treatment you put her through. Perhaps we should invite her to join in the fun."

"You seem awfully fixated on my daughter." Fenra ground out. Silvo leaned back slightly to avoid the spittle flying through his teeth.

"Kid's talented." He shrugged off-handedly, "Far too talented for this place. You really missed the mark with that one." Raising his brows, Silvo pushed Fenra's jaw away from him, standing back up. The swinging weight at his hip reminded him of the small BD Unit. Pulling it out, he appraised it for a moment, legs stepping unconsciously toward the bar where he'd been sitting previously. "One hell of a Sabacc player. You could've easily had her running rings, pulling off some good schemes, boosting your funds. Instead, you've squandered her abilities by having her serve drinks."

"If you care so much about her talents, then why don't you take her. You'd be lifting a burden off my shoulders."

Shaking his head, Silvo placed the droid down gently on the counter top, before turning back round to Fenra. "No, I don't want to steal her. Don't get me wrong, I think she'd make a fantastic addition to my crew. I could raise her into one hell of a pirate." He shook his head. "But no, taking her by force isn't what I want here." Stepping towards him slowly, watching Fenra crumble piece by piece under the weight of his gaze, Silvo paused above the other man. "I want her to look you in the eye, and spit in your face. I want her to wake up one day and realise she's too good for this place. I want her to rise above every boot you've crushed her beneath and I want her to come to me. Because to me, that's much more gratifying than simply stealing her away."

He lowered his voice to taunting murmur as he pulled the long tail of his coat behind him, crouching once more. "And you'll live with the knowledge that it was me, a miscreant pirate, who took everything you hold dear. Including the power you have over her. She's going to beg me to take her away, and when she does, I won't refuse. I'll take her under my wing and teach her to be the most ruthless, cunning pirate the galaxy has ever known. One day, she'll wake up and decide that her business here isn't done. Because mark my words, she will want to come back and finish you off after realising everything you've put her through. That festering anger will drive her. And you–" He huffed tauntingly, "You'll be left here, wondering, living in fear of when that day might come."

He watched the beading sweat drip down the side of his face. A surge of satisfaction ripped through him as Fenra's panicked eyes widened impossibly further, words choking on his tongue as Silvo's threats sunk in. He stood back up.

"But, for now. I just want my credits."

────

Dawn light streamed through the grates in the tiny window, casting sharp lines across Kitra's face as she blinked her eyes open. It was the first peaceful sleep she'd had in months. No footsteps barrelling for her room. No hands forcing her awake in the middle of the night over some perceived slight she'd committed in her sleep.

No slaps and no bruises.

She should've known the peace wouldn't last long.

Before she could wake fully and register the new day, the door to her paltry room hissed open. Fenra leaned heavily against it. At first, Kitra thought he'd spent the early morning getting drunk, or he was still recovering from the previous night's hangover. Kitra could never figure out which state left him more volatile.

But upon further inspection, the pit of dread in her gut grew deeper. There was a mottled, purple bruise across his cheek-bone and a nasty split on the bottom of his lip. The way he favoured his right leg told her he was keeping weight off the other. One hand also grabbed his side, underneath his jacket.

She turned cold at the murderous glare settled on her, and couldn't even move when he shot forward clumsily, grabbing her by the back of her shirt. She did her best to keep her legs under her as he hauled her outside of the room, almost tripping when he shoved her down the stairs, insults flying alongside spit from his lips.

She was thrown into what could only be called a bomb-sight. Landing on her knees amongst shards of broken glass, her breath hitched when she took in the devastation of the bar around her. Shattered bottles and sticky liquid littered the dusty floor. The sharp smell of liquor reached her, emanating from the puddles. Service droids were dismantled to pieces, scattered across the bar.

Chairs upturned. Booth seats slashed. Tables broken. Scorch marks from blaster fire darkened the walls. A swinging light above her lay bereft of its bulb.

It was a complete decimation. Kitra wondered how she hadn't woken up with any of this commotion. Had she really been sleeping that deeply?

"You did this." Her father growled behind her, and she twisted around to face him, skittering back. Hands slid over the broken shards, but she ignored them. "Those damn pirates of yours. If you'd have just done your job and stayed quiet like you're supposed to, this wouldn't have happened!"

"No," Kitra's had shook rapidly, "I– I didn't do–"

Her father's boot hit her shoulder, the sharp pain pulling a cry out of her. "Don't talk back, girl! You caught their attention. He did this because of you!" He jabbed a finger at her, and her heart pounded in her chest from pure terror. "I knew you would end up more trouble than you're worth. I should've just gotten rid of you the moment you were left on my doorstep by your stupid mother! The only reason I kept you around this long was because you were useful!"

The lump in her throat swelled as Fenra's tight grasp locked onto her, pulling her to her feet and shoving her into the bar. The edge of the counter dug painfully into her shoulder-blades. Quivering, she kept her head down, refusing to meet her father's wrathful gaze. "Was it worth it? Huh? Playing a little, fun game of Sabacc with them. Was it worth this? They've left us with nothing you dumb child! I told you not to do anything that'll cause this." He shook her harshly by the shoulders. "And what do you do!?"

Just as her eyes filled with tears, he struck her across the face violently. Her neck whipped to the side, harsh stinging glancing across her skin. Her eyes met the BD Unit placed on the counter. For a moment, a brief warmth swelled inside her chest at the sight of it.

It sat so inconspicuously, yet to Kitra, the placement was purposeful. A sign. Was it a foolish hope to think Silvo had left it as such? Most likely. But then she remembered his words from the previous night. Sometimes you need to sever what's holding you in place to find your true path in this galaxy. But you have to make that decision for yourself.

That same spark of determination that she'd felt last night – when sitting across from Brutus and vowing to win – flooded through her. The credit had been flipped, hurtling through the air in slow motion. She faced down bloodthirsty pirates in a game of Sabacc and won. And here she was now, cowering under this man's shadow like she'd done her whole life. A man who felt threatened by Silvo's mere existence. Wasn't it her intention last night to sever that very rot?

Is that the message Silvo was sending here? If he was indeed sending a message by leaving the BD Unit behind.

"What's this?" Her father's voice pulled her back out from her realisation.

His hands were pulled off her, and she watched him crouch down, picking up a leathery pouch from the floor. Kitra's heart jumped into her throat, choking the life from her as her father opened the pouch. The clinking was immediately recognisable. It was the pouch of credits she'd won the night before.

Her father laughed. A low, breathy laugh that sent a fresh new wave of terror through her.

"So, not only do you bring pirates down on my bar. But now you're keeping credits from me. Credits you earn in my establishment!" He threw the pouch down, sending the metal bars skittering along the floor. Kitra jumped, feeling like her soul was removing itself from inside her skin.

Something cold was pressed to her sweaty forehead. It took her a second to realise it was the barrel of a blaster pistol. Her father's eyes locked onto her as she whimpered, feral and ragged. "Give me one good reason. One good reason why I shouldn't do what I should've years ago." Angry spit flew from between his gritted teeth. The words Kitra couldn't find got lodged in her throat, desperate eyes pleading for mercy. "What? You don't think I will." He raised his brow, "I will."

Something clattered near her ear. The BD Unit.

Once again, Silvo's words repeated in her head. A mantra. Sometimes you need to sever what's holding you in place to find your true path in this galaxy. But you have to make that decision for yourself. Sever the rot. That's what she told herself. The BD Unit. It was a sign. A reminder of what she was capable of.

The fear and tumultuous terror that had weighed her down her entire life fell away, making room for a cold, wind-stirred anger. She was capable of so much more than the meagre existence she lived on this miserable planet. She'd already proved it. To Silvo. To herself. Now, she just needed to prove it to the grotesque, horrid excuse of a father that was in front of her.

Before she could consider any consequences, her knee drove itself into Fenra's side. The one he'd been clutching at earlier. The cold barrel fell away as he stumbled, curling in on himself with a cry. Kitra didn't give him any time to recover.

Without even thinking – fueled by pure, terrified, angry adrenaline – she leaped onto him, wrestling the blaster away with a shout. Her father had never been a fighter. He'd always been a coward. His arms fumbled as he fought to keep hold of his weapon.

It was no heroic moment of clear conscience and calculated moves. Just a feral struggle for animalistic dominance. Fenra's weakened state, caused by the aggravated injuries he'd received the night before and whatever still lingered from his severe hangover allowed Kitra to grasp onto the blaster and pull it away with relative ease. As soon as it was in her hands, she stood up, clumsily holding it and aiming it down at Fenra. Ragged breath heaved at the chests of both father and daughter as they stared each other down, in anxiousness and fury.

Fenra's hands – shaking – lifted above his chest. "Now, child, put the blaster down." His voice was eerily calm. Kitra recognised it as the tone he used when keeping her complacent. Her fingers tightened around the blaster.

She didn't say anything. She didn't trust her words with her tongue swelling to the roof of her mouth. The blaster trembled in her grip.

Fenra's eyes darted down to it. "We both know you don't have it in you. You never did."

It was that disbelief – that provocation – that undid the barrier holding her back. She aimed the blaster at his leg, gritting her teeth in determination and pulling the trigger. Fenra's scream shot through her with the burning flash. All she could smell was singed flesh; sizzling and rancid.

It took her father a long moment, groaning in pain and steadying his breath, before he looked at her again, eyes filled with malice. This was the father she always knew. The father she wished to sever from her life. But she knew he was right. She didn't have the guts to kill him.

But what she did have, renewed and blazing inside of her, was that desire to escape. Because there was someone out there that believed in her. There had to be.

Her father attempted to pull himself onto his feet. Kitra stepped back, pulling the blaster back up defensively. But Fenra's legs crumpled underneath him, not having the strength to hold his weight.

She took her chance.

Stepping around him, she collected up the spilled credits, before running to the counter top and gathering her BD Unit in her arms. They were meagre, paltry things. But she didn't have anything else.

Just as she was about to reach the stairs leading out from the underground bar, her father's voice halted her.

"You think he wants you?" He called out. "You're nothing but a useless wretch of a girl who has nothing. He won't want anything to do with you!"

Kitra looked back at him. Sprawled out of his front, clutching at his leg. Neck craned up to her, with a sweat-covered forehead and beaten face. Pathetic. This was the man she had lived in fear of her whole life?

"It's better than staying here and dying on this planet. Dying because of you." She mumbled.

"Stay." He whimpered. "Please, Kitra. Stay and I'll forgive all of this. I promise." His eyes turned imploringly towards her, but she knew it was false. His promises were always false. "Please, I'm your father."

He wasn't. Not anymore. He was nothing to her. No one. "You've never been my father."

She didn't even spare him a second glance as she rushed out of the door. There was nothing more she wanted to do than to put as much distance between herself and the bar – and Fenra Halon – in as little time as possible. Lest she lose her resolve and was forced to trail back; down-trodden and head bowed.

It was raining when she emerged onto the street. She wrapped the BD Unit under her thin shirt and sprinted through the streets. Sheets of the torrential downpour beat down upon her as she made her way to the space port. It wasn't a long journey. A few corners and she was there. Rubbing the rain out of her eyes and wiping away the strands of dark hair plastered to her forehead, she whipped her head around. The faintest spark of hope that Silvo was waiting for her to come simmered inside of her.

But her father's words wriggled at the back of her mind. You think he wants you?

Why would someone like Silvo – who had all of the freedom he could desire, and the crew to carry out all of his bloodthirsty desires – ever want a girl who looked like she would snap at the slightest pressure. Why on Ochran would he want her on his crew?

Then she spotted him. At the edge of the ramp of a transport ship, looking through the rain. As if he could sense her presence, his eyes snapped to her. They narrowed, almost trying to make out her figure through the thick rain. Biting her lip, Kitra pulled her arms around herself and the BD Unit. When he beckoned her over, she sprinted for the ship.

She made it under the shelter of the loading bay, and then suddenly couldn't find her words. She hadn't even had the time to think of what she could say. Everything had happened so fast. She hadn't initially planned on Silvo being her escape route.

He only stood there, hands on his hips as he looked down at her, waiting for her to be the one to decide what to say. For some reason, that choice alone made her chest feel tight.

"I–" She started. "Can– can you take me to the next system? I need to get off this planet." She looked out into the rain, as if Fenra might appear out of nowhere and drag her back to the dark depths of that bar she was never able to escape before. "I have– I have credits." She lifted the pouch in her hand.

For a long, agonizing moment, Silvo said nothing. Instead, he looked down at her with a deeply furrowed brow like he was expecting her to say something else. He only took the pouch, making a point of looking through it.

She swallowed the large lump in her throat, shivering from the cold air. "It's– It's all the credits from the game last night. I know it's not much but–"

"The next system wouldn't be far enough. He'd find you easily." He interrupted. Kitra fell silent, lips falling into a frown. "And this–" He shook the pouch, the credits clanking inside, "Certainly isn't enough for that."

"Please." Kitra said, "I'll do anything–"

"Don't say that." He pointed a finger at her, the swift action silencing her once more. "Don't ever say that. A lot of crews in a place like this will take advantage of that sort of desperation."

Kitra didn't have a reply for that.

"That'll get you to the next system at least. With the right crew you could always barter for passage further. If that's what you want," Silvo said, "But then what will you do?"

"I guess I'd find a way to make money. I'm good with droids, I can find someone in need of a mechanic."

Silvo hummed, "So you'd scrape and starve until you find someone who would most likely treat you the same way you've been treated your whole life."

His words sent a cold shiver down her spine. Not that the rain was doing much to stave the chill off in the first place.

Shaking his head, Silvo extended the pouch back out to her. She took it defeatedly. "You've a lot to learn about the galaxy, girl. Most people out there are exactly like Fenra Halon. They take advantage of desperate, naive children who would do just about anything for a scrap of food." His eyes turned dark, a flash of reminiscence passing through them. "You can take that, try your luck in finding another ship that might be willing to take you a little further than the next system or–" She felt the tears building in her eyes "I can make you another offer."

Her head tilted slightly in confusion, and he elaborated. "You can fix droids." She nodded. "Think you can fix ships as well?"

"I–" She started, "I think I could learn. Shouldn't be too hard, right?"

The corner of Silvo's lips lifted. "That's the kind of spirit I need. It just so happens that my crew is currently in the market for a deck-hand. Unfortunately, the upkeep of our ship can go neglected. We need someone who can fix it up, get into the small places we can't reach. It means you'd have a place on board, food in your belly and, most importantly," He pointed out into the still pouring rain, towards a man who most likely still lay on the floor inside his bar, nursing pitifully at his wounds, "He'd never find you."

The lump in her throat remained stubbornly there. "You– you'd want me on your crew?"

He shook his head, folding his arms across his chest. "Thought I'd made that obvious by leaving behind your BD Unit last night."

"So you did smash up the bar."

"We did, yes. Sorry about that, by the way. Hope he didn't take it out too harshly on you." He pointed to her aching cheek, which was no doubt swelling with a fast forming bruise.

Kitra shook her head. "Could've been worse." She mumbled. "But it forced me to make my choice. Just like you said."

Cocking his head, Silvo grinned. "And that choice brought you here."

His easy grin infected her, warming her from the inside. She nodded.

"Well then, little Kit. What do you say? Do we have a deal?" He extended his hand out.

Kitra thought it through for only a second. It was far too late for her to go back. There was no home that remained for her on Ochran – not that she considered it home in the first place. And Silvo was correct. If she made it to the next system, her father would find her easily and drag her back, or worse. Or she would spend the remainder of her life struggling and starving.

It was time for her to abandon this place, and everything in it. Sever what held her in place.

Silvo wanted her on his crew. He wanted her. And in that moment, where Kitra had nothing, it meant everything.

She placed her hand in his, and he shook it firmly. "Deal."

His grin lit up once more, and he leaned into her conspiratorially. "Then welcome aboard, little Kit. I'm gonna make you into one hell of a pirate."

Thus began a new dawn upon her life. Her life as a pirate.

Chapter Text

FOUR  I  LITTLE LUCKY STRIKES AGAIN

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

9 ABY

IN ORBIT ABOVE TATOOINE

Silence swathed the frigate's cargo hold in a deep, anticipatory tension. Multiple bodies formed a tight ring, surrounding two figures sat opposite from each other. A crate lay between them, piling credits forming a clumsy tower – ready to spill from the side of the make-shift table. Stacked cards lay next to them, slowly dwindling as the game moved on.

It was a well known fact that gambling was the main source of entertainment for pirates. To whittle away the boring hours between raids, they stacked their odds against each, betting their share of their latest plunder. When they couldn't make port, they feasted their eyes upon the games that took place, hinging bets upon the players.

Kit shifted on her crate looking across to her opponent with a flat stare; a Kajain'sa'Nikto male called Vane that their crew had picked up not long ago. Fleeing from the decimation of his previous crew – captained by the infamous Gorian Shard – Vane had welcomed the refuge, pledging his loyalty to Silvo's pirates.

Ever since Kit joined the crew at Silvo's behest, its members found a – rather satisfying to her – new form of entertainment. Initiating their new crew members by pitting them up against her in the gambling ring. It was comical the way their faces would drop at seeing her – scrawny, skinny little Kit – sit down in the seat across from her. They always took it as some form of joke. Until she rinsed them of their credits. Kit herself drew gratification from the disbelieving expressions her opponents gave when she won – she likened it to a child being relieved of their favourite pet.

Vane was the same. The wrinkles in the pale red, leathery skin around his mouth deepened in his frustration. He cut a rather intimidating figure; tall, a menacing grimace, crude looking spikes plastered across his face. But Kit had been around this crew for countless months now. Had faced Brutus' constant jibes at her presence. A new crew member couldn't make her back down.

The excitement swelled inside of her when he picked up a new card, mouth pulling down slightly at the edge. In her endless matches against the crew, she had become an expert at reading even the slightest tells in her opponents. Even where some of them kept their faces impressively neutral, a slight hesitancy in their fingers drumming against the table gave away their true sense of nerve.

In the long months she'd been part of the crew, she had yet to lose a game she'd been involved in. The crew had marvelled at her natural skill, taking to calling her 'Little Lucky'. It helped to settle that tiny voice in the back of her head that told her she'd made a mistake. That a crew of pirates would never accept her. The majority of them did; had welcomed her into the fold by including her in card games.

But a true seat at the table was always just out of reach.

Discarding her five, she picked up a new card, studying it for a long moment and purposely making Vane restless with every single one of her drawn out actions. It was so easy to play the dumb child. So simple to allow her opponents to underestimate her then unseat all of their misguided assumptions. The subtle chorus of chuckles around her only spurred her on. Placing the card into her hand, she plucked the dice from the table.

No shift. She fought to hide the smirk threatening at her lips. But just as she'd become an expert at reading others, she'd become just as masterful at schooling her own expression.

They called bets. She'd lost count of the amount of credits in the pot, but it was a very attractive looking pile. Vane had come to them with a small fortune. Kit was about to steal half of it. In the next round, where Vane drew a new card, she stayed. The dice rolled. No shift. Bets were called. Vane discarded and picked up. She stayed. Roll dice. No shift. Bets were called.

The cycle repeated for another couple of rounds. Vane shifted, grimace growing larger. His frustration deepened with each round that Kit didn't pick up a new card. Just as she called stay, a fist slammed into the crate, dislodging the pile of credits. They softly clinked against each other as they fell.

"You're stalling." Vane growled.

"Am I?" She asked, blinking innocently up at him.

She rolled the dice. No shift. She couldn't help the little, impish laugh that escaped her. She knew the outcome already. Breaking Vane's composure had been surprisingly easy.

They called their final bets. Vane discarded and picked up. "Fine, if you're so confident. Alderaan."

Kit's lip twitched up as she stayed, completing the game. Vane chucked down his cards, revealing a solid twenty-two. It might have won him the game in any other circumstance. But luck had struck her once again. Pursing her lips, Kit eyed the cards. "That's a shame."

"What, that you lost? Thought they told me you were unbeatable." Vane taunted.

"No, it's a shame that you lost, actually. With such an amazing hand too." She clicked her tongue, laying her cards upon the makeshift table. "Mine was just better." Three staves, two of coins. And nestled tauntingly between the middle of them; The Idiot. "Idiot's Array."

Their surrounding crowd exploded into roaring laughter as Vane's jaw dropped, extending his long face impossibly further. A warm hand slapped Kit across the back, Kona's tall figure looming across her with an amused smirk. "You done it again, kid."

"Little Lucky strikes again!" Someone called from further in the crowd.

The warmth from the validation flooded through Kit, swelling her chest with pride. Extending her hand across the crate, she grinned at Vane. "Good game. You put up a good fight."

Grumbling under his breath, he reached over, exchanging a brief, but firm handshake. "They were right about you. You are a sly little thing."

"I'll take that as a complinent." Kit shrugged.

"Need help counting the credits?" Kona asked, reaching for the pile.

Swatting her hand away, Kit glared up at her. "No, because I know you'll slip a few for yourself." It was one of the first things Kit learned aboard the ship. Keep your credits to yourself. Even your crew might attempt to swipe them if given ample opportunity. As stickler as most of them were for the code, it had its looser ends.

Grinning down at her, Kona slapped her hand down on her shoulder. "Can't fault a woman for trying."

Sharing a laugh, Kit drew her pouch out, beginning to shove her winnings inside. In the months she'd been aboard, a sizable amount had been growing in her possession. Whilst the rest of the crew spent their earnings when they made port – gambling rings, drink, and the occasional brothel being visited – Kit was far too young to partake in such lurid indulgences. If she was permitted to join, and didn't have a sizable list of bantha-shit jobs Brutus had extended to her, all she ever spent money on was droid parts. Sometimes she would treat herself to a sweet-cake at markets – but that was the extent of her spending habits.

There wasn't even anything she needed to save up for. No father to escape, no ship to barter passage to take her somewhere where her life may be a little less steeped in misery. She was secure here. Perhaps it was simply because she used to have nothing – it made having something feel a lot like having everything. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't much. But it was hers.

The ring of spectators had begun to disperse, mindless din following them. It allowed a bulky figure to storm through the crowd, murderous snarl on his face.

"Just what's going on here?" Brutus growled, clawed hands slamming onto the crate just shy off the remaining few credits. "Don't you have work to be doing, girl?"

Of all the crew, Brutus had been the least receptive of her. Still holding a grudge from the first game of Sabacc they'd played, the Shistavanen had decided to spend the past months dredging up her new life with a familiar misery. She couldn't really blame him. She'd be pissed off as well in his boots. What she didn't appreciate was the merciless jabs and loading her workplate with seemingly impossible tasks. He'd quickly become a rancid stain on her life, taking advantage of the times Captain Silvo was conveniently absent to freely shove her around.

As much as the crew liked her – she provided them free entertainment after all like some Chandrilan novelty – Brutus held too much respect as First Mate. Also, they were pirates. There was never any harm in a little push around. They expected her to take it like it was all in good-nature. Nothing was in good nature when it came to Brutus' bitterness towards her.

"I've finished for the day. Just enjoying some down time. Wanted me to play against the newbie." Kit said, scraping up the last credits into her pouch. Schooling her expression, she ket her mouth pressed into a tight line.

Brutus' fist banged on the top of the crate. "That's bantha-shit. Because when I went down to check the hyperdrive, it still hadn't been fixed. We're wasting time stuck here orbiting this miserable planet."

Huffing defiantly, she met his blood-red gaze. Silvo had told her not to back down after all. She'd maybe gain Brutus' respect that way. Fat chance of that ever happening. "That's because there's parts that need replacing. It was a mess of eroded wires and connector bolts that couldn't hold themselves together, never mind the motivator. Plus there was a stabiliser plate missing, a few more jumps and we'd be–"

"I don't want excuses. I want it fixed." Brutus' fangs bared.

Gulping down the anxiety-induced lump in her throat, Kit refrained from rolling her eyes. Whilst Brutus's jibes were harmless at times, there were moments where she couldn't help but liken him to Fenra. Commanding, controlling and instinctively aggressive. Just as volatile and unpredictable also.

"I can't until the Captain comes back with the parts we need. I was just filling my time until he came back– Shouldn't you already know all this? Oh, wait you do and you're just mad you can't go down to the surface because you'll get sand stuck in fur." She muttered the last part under her breath, but had not doubt that he'd heard. Brutus' ears were the keenest on the ship.

"Another trip and wasted credits. That's a surprise."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kit's jaw hardened, eyes narrowing.

Brutus leaned further into her personal space, snout curling up. Rancid breath his her nose and she cringed, the back of her neck crawling with anxious shivers. "Ever since you came aboard he's been idling his time away instead of concerning himself with finding jobs that line our pockets. We've been going dry for weeks now. I'm starting to question where his priorities lay."

"His priority will always be the crew. You know that"

"I'll believe that when I see it. We should've left you back on that shithole of a planet, you lazy, weak little–

"Woah. Woah, just what is going on here?" The familiar voice pulled a sigh of relief from her, muscles relieving themselves of their tension. Brutus whirled around, standing back up straight.

Striding towards them, chrome plated helmet at his hip and coat billowing around his legs was the captain himself. His face was pulled into a perturbed frown as he regarded the situation he'd just walked into. Eyes flickering between Kit and Brutus, he raised his brow. "Well?"

"The brat was wasting time playing cards when she should be working. Ship isn't going to run itself." Brutus grumbled.

Silvo's expectant gaze turning on her drew her from her seat, circling around Brutus into further view of him. "I was just occupying myself whilst I waited for your return with the hyperdrive parts, Captain. They wanted me to... initiate the new guy." The corner of her lips pulled up into a ghost of a smirk.

Silvo hummed in interest. "Did you win?"

She nodded, allowing the swell of gratification to bury its way into her chest at the glint of pride in his eyes. Gaze flickering back to Brutus, he strolled forward with his usual, lazy swagger. "See, Brutus. No harm done. She can't exactly fix the hyperdrive without the necessary parts, which I have been on the surface bartering for. Speaking of," He turned back to her, "Gunter is currently delivering the parts down to the hyperdrive chamber, ready for when you are."

"She could still be working on other things. Plenty to fix around here." Out of what must have been spite – and due to its fateful passing – Brutus kicked a stray mouse droid, sending it skittering and sparking across the floor. Craning her neck up at Brutus, she sent him her most murderous glare that she could muster. She'd jsut fixed that droid the other day – it subsequently began following her around as soon as it turned online. He bared his teeth back down at her. "Like that."

"Now, Brutus. Let's not cause any issues here. Little Kit deserves down time as much as the rest of the crew. I would hate to think you were slave-driving her in my absence." Silvo's brow rose in silent warning. "We're pirates after all. Free men. We don't buy into that sort of shit."

If Brutus were human, Kit could imagine his face draining of blood. Instead, the fur above his eyes bristled slightly. "Of course not, Captain. Just ensuring she wasn't slacking off is all."

"Good. She's part of this crew. She deserves as much respect as anyone else on it." Turning, Silvo began walking away – hurrying to head to whatever errand he had to run next; or laze away in his cabin.

"I'll show her respect when she's out there on raids with the rest of us, not hanging back on the ship like a coward."

Brutus' diminishing insult had her lips pulling into a tight frown and a thick knot of doubt tightening inside her stomach. The ceaseless chatter around them stilled. So did Silvo; freezing mid step, though nothing else in his countenance changed. His entire aura reeked of seeping exasperation – something Kit had learned long ago signaled a dangerously turning tide.

There was a reason he was called 'Mad' Captain Silvo.

His head turned to the side, before his body followed; nonchalant, though that was just a mask. Features seemingly relaxed, he regarded Brutus with a thwarting carefulness that had even Kit shivering in her boots. Silvo could be terrifying in his indifferent body language. She was glad she hadn't ever been on the receiving end of it.

"Can I ask you something, Brutus?" He began, passing his helmet off to the nearest crew member. The Shistavanen remained silent, grinding his fangs together. "When the navcomputer sparked out last month, leaving us stranded, who was it that fixed it?"

"Kit." Brutus muttered bitterly.

Silvo stepped forward, slowly, arms held behind his back. "And the months before that, who fixed the thermal conductors in the generator rooms when they overheated, probably saving us all from a very nasty unforeseen explosion."

"Kit."

Lips pulling into a tight line, Silvo stopped a hair's breadth close to Brutus' snout. "Exactly. That girl keeps this frigate flying, unless that escaped your notice– which by your answers it clearly hasn't. She's earned her spot on this crew as much as the rest of you. Maybe not out there pulling off jobs with the rest of us – I doubt even you would want a child running amuck out there getting under your feet – but her work is still of equal value. She deserves your respect. Clear?"

The skin around Brutus' snout curled up slightly, fangs baring and remaining silent.

Silvo's expression fell at his lack of answer. Voice taking on a dangerous tone, he said, "I asked, is that clear?"

"'Course... Captain." Brutus eventually ground out.

Kit watched the entire interaction with a nervous gaze, holding her breath when the tension thickened thicker than the storms on Ochran; stomach churning up with a sickening anxiousness. A minute amount of relief washed over her when – in a turn so swift it always left her reeling – he smiled jovially, patting Brutus on the arm like he was greeting an old friend.

"Excellent, glad we can understand each other." His gaze snapped to Kit, before he tilted his head away beckoningly from the crowd. "Come along, Kit. I need you to look over something for me."

Nodding enthusiastically, she ran to catch up to his longer stride as he swept from the cargo hold, snatching his helmet back from the crew member he left it with – the only remaining trace of his vexation. It was relieving to get away from all of the eyes on her back. Some few easily swayed crew members did share Brutus' sentiments on her pulling her weight, despite how many times she'd proved herself worthy. Droids could easily do her job, they'd claimed. On every raid they risked their lives whilst she stayed cradled within the ship.

Silvo always told her to put their grievances out of her mind. But everyday she was reminded of them questioning her value, it became a little less easy to ignore.

Gloved hands fixed her credit pouch onto her belt, the newly acquired bundle clanging softly as she bounced along beside Captain Silvo. His presence never failed to lift her spirits.

"Here," Silvo's voice pulled her attention back to him, finding his helmet proffered out to her. Taking it immediately, she tucked against her side, the jutting out sides at the top nestled into the crook of her arm. With his hands free, Silvo pulled his gloves off. Leftover grains of sand still clinging to them fell to the floor. "Ugh, I hate that planet. Too much sand." He said, a bitter tone on the edge of his tongue.

"Did you manage to get everything I needed?" Kit asked, neck craning up to look at him as they walked side by side.

"Everything on the list." Silvo nodded.

"And it was the right stuff this time." The last time Silvo was entrusted to get her supplies, he'd misread a number and brought back connecting bolts that were far too large. It left the ship without working hot water for their sonics for another day. The rest of the crew weren't the best pleased.

He was never permitted to forget such an offense.

"I got everything on the list exactly as it was written down. Though one seller did try and misdirect me into buying the more expensive option. I let him know just who he was trying to scam." Pocketing his gloves, he turned to her with a conspiratory raise of his brow.

Huffing in amusement, she fixed her gaze back on the way they were walking. "Still I would've felt more secure if I was there with you."

Silvo blew a disapproving noise through his lips. "Tatooine is no place for a young soul like yourself. Full of slavers that place. Don't need you getting snatched up or lost in the desert. Then I'd need to seek out a new deck-hand."

Disappointment lanced through her like a spear. Despite how long she'd been a part of the crew, Silvo insisted she stray far from anything that he deemed 'too dangerous'. When the crew questioned why she didn't join them on raids? The ship needed her to keep it running. There was a planet that had a worse than usual reputation and she needed supplies; Silvo would retrieve them for her.

As much as fixing the ship was her job, she also wanted to prove herself. The crew would only tolerate so long of her being just the deck-hand. There would come a time where she would be expected to pull her weight in more ways than just making repairs. She needed to put the blaster to use. Silvo had taught her how to use it. So why didn't she?

"What's with that face?" She hadn't noticed the way her face had scrunched up with such deprecating thoughts.

She screwed up her expression even further – she would be absolutely ready to admit it was out of just a minute amount of spite. "What face?"

It was his turn to screw up his face, mouth pulling into a tight line. "Just who taught you to speak to me with that much snark."

"You did, Captain." The semi-mocking tone she'd said the title with didn't escape his notice if the half-hearted admonishment in his gaze said anything.

"Right. No more of that, please." He said jokingly. "But in all seriousness, what's on your mind?"

Her lips tightened into a frown. "When are you going to let me come on raids with you and the rest of the crew?"

The space between his brows pulled together. "What makes you think you need to be on raids? You're not letting Brutus of all beings get to you are you? Thought I taught you better than that."

"Brutus is right, though. The crew are never going to truly respect me unless I can prove myself. Beyond just fixing ships."

"Brutus has about as much judgement as a gundark. Don't listen to him." Silvo paused by the door to his quarters, keying in the code. "How have you been getting on with those star maps I gave you."

"I've memorised them." She said quickly, following him inside when he sauntered in, placing his helmet upon the desk in the corner. Watching him closely as he collapsed in his chair, Kit narrowed her eyes as he stretched out his neck – clearly intent on ignoring what she was trying to say. "Stop trying to change the subject."

Catching her gaze, Silvo's nose scrunched up. "I'm not changing the subject."

"You are." She shot back, leaning against the edge of the desk and crossing her arms with a deep frown. A gleam of amusement in Silvo's eye told her he was enjoying her petulance. It frustrated her even more, how he didn't take her seriously at times. "You do this every time I bring this up. Deflect. Make me think of something else. But it's not working this time. You taught me how to use balster, I've memorised all of the strategies you and the crew use. I'm ready."

Shaking his head, Silvo's lips pulled down into a fraction of a frown. "You're not."

"I am. I want to prove myself– prove that I'm worth more than just fixing the ship and repairing droids. I want to prove, not only to the crew but to you as well, that all those months ago you did see potential in me–"

"Kit, have you ever killed a man?" The swift turn into a serious tone halted her in her tracks. Silvo was hardly ever serious. Easy-natured and unpredictably dangerous; but never critically serious like this.

She swallowed the knot of doubt in her throat. "I've shot a man." Hesitation crept into the edge of her voice, failing in making herself sound certain. Whilst security was something that Silvo never failed to instill in her, he also had the unconscious knack of making her doubt herself. She figured it was something in the way he always saw right through her. Like she was made of glass.

"That's different from killing." Sitting up straight, he leaned towards her. Despite currently standing taller than he was seated, she still felt small under his gaze. "You never forget your first. And when you're out there, you can't hesitate or you put the entire crew in jeopardy. So, until you can get used to the idea of taking a life, you aren't ready. We don't need you faltering out there and needlessly putting yourself in danger." Leaning back in his seat, the easy smile slipped back onto his face effortlessly. "And I'd really hate to have to find a new deck-hand when my current one is doing such a stellar job. This ship has never functioned better." He threw his hands into the air, as if gesturing to the entire vessel from the confines of his tiny – in comparison, the frigate was quite vast in size – quarters.

Rolling her eyes, Kit looked away, fighting the prideful flush threatening to creep up her cheeks. It didn't diminish the knowledge that he was still deflecting. But she always appreciated when her efforts were remarked upon. "When will I be ready?"

"Hmmm, probably not until you're at least sixteen."

"That's another two years!" She whirled back on him.

All he did was shrug, before his face fell into a sober expression. "Trust me. I'll let you know when you are ready. But for now, just focus on keeping this ship running. The crew appreciate you– respect you– for it. Mainly because they don't want to do it themselves, but still. And I'm sure, when you do eventually join us out there, they will be celebrating just as much as I will."

She chuckled half-heartedly. Despite Silvo's reassurances, it didn't help the lingering doubts at the back of her mind. Whisperings were making their way through the ship. Of Silvo's turn of focus and her presence being the fault of that.

"Here," Silvo spoke again, breaking up the easy silence, hand extending out to her, "I got you something."

There was an object between his fingers, shiny and silver-coated. A pin fashioned in the elongated skull of an animal unknown to her, tusks extending out on either side of it. She took it upon his insistence, studying it.

"What is it?"

"Trader said something of Mandalorian origin. I know those old stories were of particular interest to you." Her lips twitched up, warmth flooding through her. She'd never confided that in him, but he'd still noticed. It made her inwardly delighted at simply being seen.

"And how much did that set you back?" She teased.

Brow furrowing, he peeled back, "Have you so little faith in your captain? I actually haggled a pretty good deal for that."

Through the almost overwhelming happiness at such a small gesture – Fenra had never bought her trinkets before – Brutus' earlier words shot through the back of her mind, niggling at the doubt that perpetually settled itself there. Another trip and wasted credits.

"You've got that look again. You're overthinking about something." A finger poked at the crease between her brows. Gently and carefully. Silvo was always mindful in any physical contact he initiated with her. Never too heavy-handed or applied too much pressure. Something she appreciated to the ends of the galaxy.

"Not overthinking." She muttered. "Just being realistic." Pausing, she mulled over her racing thoughts and how to word her current worries. "The crew is getting... restless. Agitated."

He blew a breath between his lips, resting his hands across his stomach. "It has not escaped my notice."

"They think your priorities have turned elsewhere. Not lining their pockets like you agreed to do." It wasn't just Brutus who wasn't happy. Many of the crew were getting their heads in a spin over the lack of credits to go around.

"My priority will always be the crew. They know that." She had to ignore the way her chest stung a little at that. But she could never expect Silvo to ever put her above the rest of the crew – despite what she secretly ached for.

"I know. But it's been nothing but dry jobs over the last few weeks with little reward. They're not happy, captain."

"Just leave it to me, Little Kit. I've got plans stirring up."

"Anything lucrative?" She asked.

Nodding, he stood, shuffling through the mess of flimsi on his desk. Silvo's quarters was the definition of organised chaos, the man's mind far too fixated on the next score to keep a clear living space. Clothes scattered and old star maps that weren't holos strewn across the floor. "Got a tip from someone at the cantina in Mos Eisley. A weapons shipment being transported to another little outer rim planet called Garel. Chaol's plotting our course as we speak."

"That isn't credits. Crew doesn't need more weapons" Kit argued.

"No," Silvo shrugged, "But we can sell the weapons for credits. Always think bigger, Kit"

"We're pirates. Not smugglers."

"And?" He said, "Smugglers, pirates, black market dealers. It's all the same at the end of the day. Criminals."

"And the New Republic won't be on our tails to track down the thieves?"

"We'll be away before they can even call reinforcements, leaving no witnesses. You know the drill." Stepping over to her, he placed his hands upon her shoulders, expression easy as he looked down at her. "Trust me, I have everything in order. All we need now, is that hyperdrive fixed. Now, that's your cue."

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. "I just thought you should know there's doubts running around. We need some good news, not a mutiny."

"There will be no mutiny, Little Kit. Have a little faith in your captain."

"I've always had faith in you."

Ruffling her hair almost affectionately – almost, because Silvo didn't truly care for anything other than credits – he smiled. "And that's why you're my favourite. Now, hop along and get that hyperdrive fixed so we can get some credits in our pocket."

Nodding her head, she shuffled out the room, making the long trek down to the hyperdive chamber. Along the way, she rubbed her thumb over the silver of the pin he'd gifted her. Silvo had taught her long ago that attachments were a bad idea – particularly in a galaxy that never intended to be kind to them. They weighed you down. Made you weak. Held you back.

Trust was not easy to come by. But Kit couldn't help but trust Captain Silvo with her life. The moment he'd welcomed her into his crew – taught her everything he knew and molded her into the perfect little apprentice – she'd formed a terribly misguided bond to him. One that was always destined to be one-sided, she knew that. But approval and validation was all she craved, and Silvo gave that to her in spades. It was only natural she'd continue to seek that out. In a life bereft of such things, having it now made her feel like she had the entire galaxy at her fingertips. If she reached just a little further, she could grasp onto the stars themselves. With a little luck, they may fall into her hands.

But as long as Silvo refused affection and love, the stars would always remain just out of reach.

Chapter Text

FIVE  I  ACTS OF SUCH A HORRIFIC NATURE

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Since boarding the frigate all of those months ago, the metallic tang of grease and acrid fuel had become home to Kit. Often it would remind her of the spaceport on Ochran, or being surrounded by broken scraps of droids she was expected to fix. An underlying comfort against the toxic smell of cheap liquor and sweat she used to be permeated with on a daily basis. When she was swathed in it, nestled in the confines of the engine rooms, it brought some solace.

The hyperdrive had been a quick fix. The garbled quips from Brutus drove her into ensuring she wasted no time. She didn't want him bearing down upon her thinking she was dawdling. And even when the ship jolted – the physical sign of them entering hyperspace after she'd comm'd the bridge – she stayed in her nook.

A pipe had burst, sending steam gushing into the tight space, which Kit fixed as fast as she could – left too long and the problem would become bigger. She coughed, waving the hot cloud of smoke away from her face and turning to BD–11. She'd fixed him months ago, using the pitance she received from the crew's plunder to buy the correct parts when they'd next docked. He now jumped around, following her with beady eyes. An indistinguishable companion in her moments of solitude.

"Hey Budi. Can you pass me that socket wrench?" She was holding the final screw in place, and the tool in question was just beyond her reach. Budi looked at it, tilting his head curiously and picking it up with his tiny claw appendage, hopping across to her with a few jovial beeps. Kit hadn't had the opportunity to learn any binary, but still picked up the tone in his little chirps. Eager. He always sought to please.

She pulled the socket wrench from him. "Thanks, Budi." The droid beeped in affirmation, before chasing a wayward screw that caught his eye. It kept getting caught under his clumsy legs, Budi beeping in frustration every time the loose screw skittered down the floor.

Kit chuckled, shaking her head before turning back to the pipes. Securing the final screw in place, she wiped her brow. She'd definitely need a long sonic after all of this work. But that would have to wait until after the job.

Another jolt. The ship had exited hyperspace.

Before long, she heard members of the crew rushing through the halls, excited yells bouncing off the walls in their haste. No doubt Captain Silvo had worked up their appetites into a frenzy with the promise of a bountiful plunder. After weeks of scraps, their urges were ravenous.

Kit crawled out of the tight space into the main area of the engine rooms, running a quick diagnostic of the systems. All was running at satisfactory efficiency. Silvo would be pleased.

Angered shouts drew her attention. They echoed down the hallways all the way from the main hangar. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Trekking through the halls, she paused at the entryway into the hangar. The majority of the crew were gathered, frustrated mutters and obscene shouts extended towards the centre of the circle. Brutus led the charge, fuelling the voracious frenzy that was building.

Kit stayed frozen in the doorway, her heart beating uneven palpitations and her skin prickling in anxiety. Something knotted inside her throat. It was like the bar on its more rowdy nights; the ones where Kit had to navigate even tighter spaces and deal with rough jabs at her shoulders when getting the customers' drink orders wrong.

"Quiet!" A familiar voice yelled. The voices died down immediately.

Captain Silvo emerged from the middle of the crowd, expression twisted in aggravation. Climbing up nimbly onto the hull of an x-wing, he turned on the crew, something dangerous gleaming in his eye.

"So, another crew got to our loot first? So what? When have we let that stop us before?" He looked mad, frenzied. It wasn't often Kit saw glimpses of this side of him, the one that had garnered the reputation of feared pirate Mad Captain Silvo. But the brief moments she did, part of her was terrified of the man he became. "Don't get caught up in casting blame. The longer we wait, the more opportunity they have to get away with our plunder. So what do you say we go after these ingrates and take what's ours?"

It was a true marvel, how he could flip the switch so easily. The crew latched onto his words, shouts of agreement filling the air as he manipulated the crowd to his will.

"So stop standing around and let's get to work."

A chorus of cheers followed, crew disbanding into ordered chaos. Captain Silvo hopped down from the x-wing's hull.

"Chaelt." Pulling the comm from his waist, he stormed towards where Kit stood. "Have you got a lock on the ship?"

She couldn't hear any reply from her spot. But the fact he didn't blow up in rage told her he heard what he wanted to hear. He nodded, before looking up and catching Kit hesitating by the hanger entrance, looking upon the scene wide-eyed.

She gulped down the tight knot in her throat, schooling her features. No weakness could be displayed in front of him.

"Kit." He said, grasping onto her shoulder and pulling her back down the corridor. "Get back down to the engine room and stay there."

"What?" She said, brow knitting together in confusion. "What's going on?"

"Another crew got there first. So we're going after them to take back the bounty."

"Then let me help." She palmed at the blaster at her side, a surge of determination flooding through her bones. "I can help."

"No." He shook his head. "This isn't a simple plunder. These are other pirates. Ruthless and bloodthirsty, like us."

"I can take care of myself. Isn't that what you've been teaching me?" The same conversation cycling over and over again. Just when would she get the chance to prove her worth?

"Kit." He said her name firmly, "We're about to get into a full-scale war here. And a battleground is no place for you, you'd only get in the way." Something cracked inside of her. "I need you to stay in that engine room and not come out until it's over."

I need. He'd put emphasis on those words. And as much as she didn't fool herself over him caring about her – he was only doing this because he thought her inexperience would be a hindrance – those words still lit a spark of hope inside of her. Sent warmth flooding through her veins.

She looked up at him, finding his imploring gaze, and nodded. Relenting to his will as she always did. Because Captain Silvo always got his way. "Okay." She mumbled.

"You'll get your chance to prove yourself." He said, "This isn't the right time. Now off you go."

He patted her on the shoulder, before storming off again without looking back. No doubt off to coordinate a new battle strategy. The rigid knot formed in her throat again, something heavy sinking in her stomach.

She wanted so desperately for him to believe in her. But as long as she remained a kid in his eyes, he never would see her on equal footing. He always said she wasn't like other kids – weak, spoiled and sheltered from the worst of the galaxy – and that he admired her hardiness. And yet...

She shook her head. One day, he'd give her the chance. But not this day.

Sequestered back in the engine room, she stayed tucked in a hidden corner, sorting through her tools with Budi chirping quietly at her side. As if he could sense her moroseness, he kept tucked in closer than usual. Kit appreciated the comfort.

For what felt like forever, the silence encompassed her. All she could hear was the faint beeps of the engine room's control systems, running quietly in the background. The first sign of the battle had been the ship jolting as it latched onto the other with the weaponized, spear-shaped docking tunnels. Then the fervent yells of the crew as they boarded.

Before everything fell silent. Kit could picture the carnage on the other side, Silvo leading a mad charge, the crew wreaking the havoc that wound through their souls. Violence upon violence, racking up a toll of death Kit could only hope favoured their side. The element of surprise and the crew's efficient strategies would see to it that they won this battle.

No victorious yells had crescendoed through the halls yet, which meant the battle still waged on. Kit compiled her tools in organized spots inside the box, ensuring the engine room was free from clutter, trying not to think about what was happening on the other ship. If she could compartmentalise her thoughts the same way she did her tools, perhaps she could deal with violence in a manner befitting of a pirate. But the child in her still hid from it. Half by choice, half not.

She had grown up with violence. So why could it not lend its hand when she needed it?

A clatter echoing through the halls caught her attention. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she reared her head, staring out of the engine room. Quiet, creeping footsteps. Whilst the frigate was vast, the sound still carried far.

Kit pulled out her blaster, traipsing silently through the halls. She had learned long ago to be light-footed; a skill that had come in handy plenty of times. Including now. Peering around a corner, she found a figure rushing down the hall, head flitting about his surroundings. He was unfamiliar. His face was not any of the one's she knew. Human. Dark, scruffy looking hair. He was an enemy. A tight wad of anxiety knit itself together inside her throat. Her fingers tightened around the blaster, pulling it up.

There was only one reason an enemy would board the frigate in the midst of battle. They were trying to sabotage their vessel whilst the crew was distracted. Kit would not allow that to happen.

This was her chance. If she could take this guy down, she could prove herself to be as tough as Silvo needed her to be. Brutus would no longer be able to claim she didn't deserve a place upon the crew. Didn't deserve his respect.

Steeling herself and squaring her shoulders back, she followed the man as he turned the next corner. A blocky blaster was held at his side and his boots thudded down the corridor as though he owned it. But this was Silvo's ship. And this intruder did not belong.

Kit raced down the corridor, turning the corner and lifting her blaster. Her eyes widened in surprise to find the man holding his own aloft, turned around on her. It startled her for a moment, and her finger shook against the trigger.

"You thought I didn't feel someone's eyes on my back?" The man before her smirked widely, eyes flickering over her.

Her jaw clenched and she fought to keep herself steady.

"You sure you know how to use that, girlie?" He said, eyebrows raising challengingly.

It reminded her too much of how Brutus had looked down upon her at that Sabacc table, menacing snarl and everything.

"I know." She said plainly. She didn't allow any quiver to infect her voice. Any subtle sign that the blaster turned on her reminded her entirely too much of her father's pressed into her head, was squashed down. But traces still emerged despite her determination. Fear did not disappear so easily.

"Hm." The man in front of her regarded her with an amused expression. "I don't think you have the guts to pull that trigger."

He stepped forward slowly. Kit stepped back, hitching the blaster a little higher, aiming at his head. "I ain't scared." She tried to muster as much of Silvo's confidence in her voice as she could. But it came out as an unsure, garbled string of words instead.

An elated gleam passed across the man's gaze. "No?" He asked. "Then why is your finger trembling against that trigger?"

He was correct. When her eyes flickered briefly to her finger against the trigger, it was quivering without her being aware of it. Seeds of doubt that had been rooted in her mind for years, due to her father's words, emerged, whispering poison into her brain. Useless ingrate, they said in her father's voice. You'll never be ready, in Captain Silvo's disappointed tone.

The man jumped forward. Kit flinched back, the knot in her throat constricting and almost cutting off her breath. The blaster almost slipped from her fingers, but she steadied it. A high-pitched chuckle – the sound resembled the laugh of a Kowakian Monkey-Lizard – echoed off the metallic walls, and the red haze of fluorescent lights became impossible to stand under comfortably. The walls of the ship she called her home closed in around her.

This man was toying with her. Playing upon her hesitation. Kit wished she could just pull the trigger. But her finger would not move. That feral, wild survival instinct that caused her to shoot her father did not reappear. It stayed locked up tight behind the cowering form of the child she thought she'd cast away when she boarded the ship all of those months ago.

Captain Silvo was right all along. She wasn't ready.

"You know, I'm curious." The man stepped forward, gait easy and blaster moving languidly as he stalked towards her. "There's only two reasons a pirate crew would keep a child aboard their ship. The first is cannon-fodder. Y'know, recruiting them with silver words, having them work and then allowing them to perish in battle when they've outlived their usefulness. The other..." He trailed off, grin pulling impossibly wider, "Well, the other is that they mean something to someone on the crew. Precious cargo, y'know." He cocked his head.

Kit swallowed, stepping back with every step forward. Until her back hit the cold durasteel of the wall and she realised just what the man had done. He'd back her into the corner, with little escape. When her eyes widened in realisation, he pounced on her.

Before she could relift her blaster to block him off, he'd knocked it forcefully out of her hands. His own grasped onto her arm and whirled her around. An arm snaked around her neck and hot air hissed into her ear. Her face screwed up in fear and discomfort, struggling to pull away from him.

"Considering you're tucked away on this ship whilst your crew is facing battle, I'm willing to place a high bet on it being the second."

"You're wrong." Kit shook her head, the words coming out in strangled gasps. "I mean nothing. 'M just the deck-hand."

"Nah. I don't believe that for a second. Now, let's go find out just who you belong to girlie, and see if we can't get your crew to surrender. Perhaps if I'm feeling nice, I'll keep you around for a little longer once I've killed them. I find you entertaining."

He pulled her back down the way they came. Kit's determination rose above her fear, heart hammering in her chest. She did not make it easy as he dragged her along. She kicked. She screamed. Clawed at his arms as wildly as she could.

When a hand slapped across her mouth to silence her, she bit at it. Hard. The man yelled. But he did not let her go.

Kit's panic resurged when she was dragged down the docking tunnels. If she allowed him to take her to the other ship then it would be over. But she was helpless. As much as she fought, the man was bigger and stronger and she was pulled across the threshold.

But she did not give up. Captain Silvo would be disappointed if she did.

"Shut it, brat." The man hissed. She was thrown, stumbling in a heap against the wall. Her head smashed into it, sharp pain arcing across her skull. Blinking away the dizziness, she whirled around to be met with the blaster against her head. A torrid sense of recollection overcame her.

But instead of cowering, she bared her teeth. Beneath the fear, that angry, feral animal was beginning to sprout. When her shoulder was grabbed and she was shoved forward again, she clawed at him. Arms snaked around her waist, pulling her off the ground and down the hall again. She kicked at nothing, hoping to at least gain some momentum to knock him off balance. But she could find none.

"Fucking let go of me!"

"This is turning out to more hassle than it's—"

He was cut off with a resounding thud. Kit groaned as she hit the floor, hands stining with the heavy landing. Angered grunts and the sickening thud of a fist meeting flesh echoed above her. Twisting around, she caught Captain Silvo, helmet on, slamming her abductor into the wall with such force it sent his head rattling. She pulled herself up, watching with morbid fascination.

His fist pounded into the man's face several times, pummeling it into a bloody mess. When his head lolled dangerously, Silvo let him slump to the floor. Kit couldn't even tell if he was dead or not. She didn't want to know. But her eyes looked down upon him anyway, unseeing. The streaks of blood across his face faded into a fuzzy mess. She was only half aware of her breath picking up, heart hammering impossibly fast.

Hands. Hands were on her shoulders, shaking them. They were not forceful but not entirely gentle either. Enough that the attempt to rouse her from her stupour became evident. Kit's head was pulled around to a hazy face staring back at her. But despite the fuzzy image, she knew that face. She focused on it.

Captain Silvo, helmet off, the fine lines of his forehead wrinkled in tight concern.

"Kit?" He asked when she blinked, "Come on, girl, come back to me. That's it." She breathed, focusing on the slightest glimmer of worry in his eye. "You hurt?"

She shook her head. Her head still ached, something horrid, but she wanted to be strong in front of him.

"Good. Good." He nodded, standing back up to his full height and glaring down at the felled man in front of him. Gesturing down to him with the blaster in his hand, he looked back at her. "What happened?"

Kit's throat felt like it was blocked. "He– He infiltrated the ship. I tried stopping him– Went after him."

His eyes narrowed, that dangerous gleam coming back into them. That whisper of rage. "I thought I told you to stay in the engine room."

"I– I thought–"

"You thought what? That you could play the hero. What were you gonna do huh? Try and shoot him?" She found she could say nothing at the beratement, words catching in her throat. It was entirely too familiar, turning her back into that cowering child. "You should've stayed hidden. I told you, you aren't ready. And look!" His blaster jabbed down towards the felled man. When Kit didn't take her eyes off him, he jabbed it again. "Look!"

Flinching, her eyes went back to her would-be abductor. He hadn't moved since Silvo had finished with him. Kit began thinking he might actually be dead. And she couldn't quite place how that made her feel. Something acidic stirred in her stomach, rising quickly to her throat.

"Who knows what might've happened if I hadn't been here. All because of your stupidity." She withered under his words. "Next time I give you an order, you follow it!" She nodded quickly, unable to lift her head up and look at him again.

Silvo sighed. Kit looked up at him through her lashes. "We don't have time for this right now. Get back to the ship."

She didn't move. She couldn't.

"Get back to the ship!"

Kit stepped back, flinching at the furious tone. She'd seen this anger, the one that simmered under his jaded confidence. The one that he could turn on like he was simply flipping a switch. Where his lips pulled down into a grimace and his face screwed up and he became almost demonic. The anger that still terrified Kit when she saw the flashes that were directed at the crew.

Only it had never been turned on her before.

She almost stumbled when she tried steadying her steps, moving past him without a word. Without a look. They hadn't made it too far onto the enemy ship, so it wasn't difficult to find her way back. Back through the frigate. Back into that home of grease and fuel.

She tucked herself away in the corner. Budi waddled up to her side – she could never properly fix his uneven legs but he had figured out how to stop toppling over long ago. He pressed himself into her side when he could sense her tangled mess of fear and disappointment.

Fighting back tears, she laid a hand over him. No weakness. No crying. The crew would never respect her if witnessing someone's death reduced her to nothing more than a blubbering mess. But it was hard to keep them at bay, not when she felt like she was back in that storage room on a ratty mattress, staring up at the stars through the thin slats in the window. Waiting for her father's wrath. She thought she had escaped him. Escaped the memories.

But every corner she turned, they hurtled into her, sending her back down the corridor. Back into that bar with her father's droids and an indifferent Sita glancing down at the bruises on her arms and doing nothing.

It wasn't long before she heard the congratulatory yells of victory that reached her. They'd won. Of course they won. Captain Silvo always won. They'd be pulling crates of weapons back onto the cargo hold of their ship. No doubt they'd be setting course straight for Borgo Prime to find a black market dealer to sell them to for a profitable price. But Kit's own spirits could not match the celebratory elation.

She stayed in the engine room. Surrounded by the sharp smell of grease and fuel that did not quite feel so comforting anymore.

Time passed by impossibly slow. Impossibly fast. She went back to rearranging her tools. Filing them away, only to tip the box back over when the placement wasn't quite right. Arranging them differently only to tip them back out again. The repetition was the only thing keeping her mind from dwelling on what just occurred.

A soft tap on durasteel. Kit didn't need to look up to know who would be hanging in the doorway. "Knock, knock." Captain Silvo, voice back to the level tone she was used to dealing with.

It was the same greeting he used when he deemed it appropriate to come down to the engine room to check on her. A gentle double tap on the open doorway – Kit never left it closed, fearing that aching sense of claustrophobia would return when she least expected. In her first few weeks, Silvo dropping in on her had become a common occurrence when she sequestered herself inside the hovel of grease and fuel, overwhelmed by the sheer liveliness of the crew. Mostly to encourage her to socialise. Integrate herself.

But it had become habit.

And once again, he had cycled through the same motion, as if everything was the same. As if Kit's cognitive functions hadn't been overridden by what she'd witnessed.

Footfall approached, hovering just in front of Kit's shoulder, leaning against the wall next to her. Never placing himself behind her. "The crew's in good spirits." He started. Kit hummed despondently, still not looking up at him. There was a heavy sigh. "You should come join us."

She didn't have the heart to tell him she wasn't in the mood. Not in the mood for Brutus' quips. Not in the mood for celebration. Not even in the mood for whatever betting pool would inevitably start up.

"Here." Something was placed in front of her. Slim handle. Metal glinting in the warm lights of the engine room. Wickedly sharp, and could cut through flesh easily. A vibro-blade. Finally, Kit looked up at Silvo with a half-confused stare, brow furrowing. He looked down at her, expression made up of a conflicting amalgamation of hardness and concern. "Figured this to be your speed. Easy to reach and easy to stab into a man even if he has you trapped." There was a heavy weight to his words, one that placed itself onto Kit's chest.

The familiar weight of her blaster was at her side once again, picked back up on her way back to the engine room. A crutch to stave away the fear of darkness encroaching. Of another enemy returning to pull her from the confines of grease and fuel.

Silvo's gesture was many things. An attempt to ensure that what happened wouldn't happen again. Comforting even in its nature of inciting violence. Because it was the only way he knew how to reassure her. But most importantly, it was his own silent apology. Because he would never say the words out loud.

Kit reached up, accepting it. She wanted to say thank you, but the words still sat heavy in her throat and she didn't trust her voice not to shake.

"I'll teach you to wield it properly, of course. But that's a job for another day, eh? You should come and celebrate with us. Vane is shouting about wanting a rematch—"

"I'm not really in the right spirit to celebrate, Captain." She hated how small her voice sounded.

Captain Silvo did something he didn't do often. He stopped speaking. His mouth pulled into a taut line of consideration and contemplation, scanning her face and then giving a relenting nod. Settling himself down into a seated position against the wall, a cheeky grin plastered itself across his face. "Alright then. Good. Because between you and me I wasn't really in the celebrating mood either."

She attempted a smile. She didn't have to look at her reflection to know it was more of a grimace. But even then, it was a crack in her downspirted mood. And Captain Silvo always had his own way of worming into the cracks.

"I must've been younger than you are." He began. "I was a little slip of a brat. Made my way through life as a courier for drug-rings. One of my first jobs, some older boy thought that because he was bigger and stronger, he was entitled to the credits I had earned." Kit brow pulled together, wondering where he was heading with the sudden accolade. "Cornered me in an alley. Pulled a vibro-blade on me. Demanded I hand over everything." He shook his head, a mirthless laugh slipping past his lips. "But I had been starving and scraping for so long. I wasn't prepared to let someone else take it from me."

Silvo's eyes flickered up to her. "Do you wanna know what I did?" Kit figured where the story might be headed. She didn't know if she wanted to hear it. But she needed to. "Slipped under his arm and redirected his blade into his own stomach. He bled out in front of me. Nameless. Unimportant. Another street rat lost to the ruthlessness of the galaxy. And that's when I realised just what I needed to do to survive this place."

"And what is that?" Kit asked, imperceptible quiver to her voice.

"You and I are both aware of the brutality of this galaxy. It's full of selfish, cruel and bitter people. People who harm people like us; unfortunate, starving brats on a planet that doesn't care for us."

There was a long pause. Unspoken, rigid tension filled the silence. Silvo's jaded attitude was another side that wasn't often seen. Confidence and unbridled, mad anger. But never this sullen woe.

"So I had to harden myself. Learn to survive. Beat them at their own game. People like us, we've had nothing. So we have to learn to take what we're owed. You remember the legends I told you about Tak Rennod?"

Kit nodded. "'For At Attin he did plunder'." She quoted. He had taught her the legend behind the song long ago. Of a famed pirate captain – a king in a sense – who sought the lost planet of eternal treasure. A myth, some called it. Nothing more than a fable shared at the table amongst drunken pirates.

The planet may be just a tale. But Tak Rennod was as real as she and Captain Silvo.

"'For At Attin he did plunder'." Silvo repeated back. "But even before he disappeared in search of the lost planet of eternal treasure, Tak Rennod was feared in this galaxy. Because he took what he wanted. Nothing ever stood in his way." His voice drifted off, as if revelling in the legend.

Kit was beginning to see the parallels. The way Silvo molded himself to fit whatever story he wished to tell... He was emulating all of the legends he had exposed himself to.

His eyes settled back on Kit. "You're still trapped." He said, completely changing the direction of the conversation. Despite all of his misdirections, it always came back to the same line of thought. "You may think you've cast that place aside, but I still see it occupying your thoughts. You haven't quite severed it."

Kit looked away shamefully. He was right. Again. As much as she'd tried and tried to get rid of him, Fenra Halon still sat in the back of her mind. That shitty bar on a shitty planet in the far reaches of the Outer Rim still whispered to her.

"It's hard." She said lowly. "Every time I think I've cast him out he finds a way to slip back in."

"You have to live as though he doesn't exist anymore. Fenra Halon is nothing to you." She wished she could latch onto those words. But her last name stuck to her like a brand, reminding her of that connection. Kitra Halon. She could shed as much of it as she wanted, but it still lingered in the empty space around her new name. Kit. Kitra Halon. Halon. Always there. Never disappearing. "That attachment will do you no good, Kit. As long as you keep that scared little girl with you, you'll never be able to thicken your skin."

"So how do I stop her from coming back?" She said it in a barely perceptible whisper. More asking herself how she could lock that frightened child away.

But of course, it was Captain Silvo who answered. "What you saw today... What you experienced... That's only the beginning. No doubt you'll see many more acts of such a horrific nature. The beings you come across will commit them. Those around you will commit them. One day, you'll commit them. That's why I said you weren't ready. Because you haven't reconciled yourself with that thought. But you must shut yourself off from any guilt you feel over it."

"Did you kill that man?" Kit asked, an unreadable edge to her voice.

"I did." Captain Silvo didn't hesitate. No regret. No sense of thinking he did anything wrong. "We killed that entire crew. It was them or us."

Kit's brow scrunched, something acidic churning in her gut.

"Stop." Silvo's voice was commanding. "None of that. Don't feel guilty. He hurt you, did he not?" Nodding, she looked away. Silvo's hand rested upon her shoulder, forcing her gaze back to him. "Then you never feel guilty. Because it was you or him. And if you're ever in that position again, just remember. It's you, or them. So always make sure you strike first. And dig that blade into them as deep as you can."

Her hand gripped around the handle of the vibro-blade, the durasteel warming under her palm. Strike first. Always strike first. She filed that into the part of her brain that held all of Captain Silvo's lessons.

"It's never an easy process, casting off everything. But think of it like putting on another layer of skin. A mask. The longer you wear it, then that weaker person you once were will disappear eventually. With every horrific act."

With every horrific act. All of those months ago, Kit chose this life. She knew what she was consigning herself to when she took Silvo's deal. As desperate as she was to prove herself worthy of a place on his crew, she had failed to realise the full spectrum of what would be expected of her. Silvo did. And he knew she wasn't ready to face it.

It had been proven with that enemy pirate. Nameless on a sinking ship. Just like the boy from Captain Silvo's stories. Nameless. They were nothing. Her or them. Her life was worth more. She had to live by that mantra. If she were to ever thicken her skin, she had to see everyone else as bugs under her feet.

It would be hard. Most pirates she encountered were bigger than her. Stronger than her. But Captain Silvo was the best of them. And he was the one teaching her. The vibro-blade – at first feeling too big for her hands – nestled perfectly into her palm, and a surge of strength electrified her bones.

She looked up at Silvo, allowing him to recognise the flicker of determination behind her eyes.

Reflected back to her was a glimmer of pride.

"I'll get stronger." She promised him. "With every horrific act."

Chapter Text

SIX  I  CALCULATE THE ODDS

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

9 ABY

- BORGO PRIME -

Borgo Prime. A cesspit of crime and illegality. Every corner reeked of desperation and violation. It was where pirates of all walks gathered to let off steam and spend looted credits. Carved from an abandoned asteroid base, the space port was a place you never displayed weakness. Enemy pirates roamed its halls, the only thing keeping them from attacking one another being the code.

But when walking its darkened pathways, Kit couldn't help but feel small. If she thought she considered herself unimportant amongst the crew, Borgo Prime was a whole new beast. Bigger pirates. More of them. All looking with hungry eyes for the next easy strike.

They all viewed her as such. What prevented them from making any sort of move was Captain Silvo's name hanging over her head. She flew with his colours, she was under his protection. So they let her be. Most knew her by her alternate moniker. Little Lucky. Those who had lost credits to her kept a secret target on her back. Some respected her game.

It didn't make her hate Borgo Prime any less. The stench alone reminded her of the bar on Ochran. Stale beer and sharp liquor. Fried, indistinguishable meat of dubious origin. And beneath it all, the heavy scent of limescale from damp rocks.

But Kit walked through it all, head held high. Her shoulders refused to bow in this place. Because Captain Silvo's crew was a top dog and that meant respect. Even for someone as seemingly unimportant as a deckhand.

Whilst the rest of the crew went to drink away their newly acquired credits — it didn't take long for them to contact a black market trader and swindle a good deal on the arms they'd looted — Kit made a beeline for the open cantina. She was starving. And there was nothing like a good bowl of Kowakian noodles to warm her stomach.

"Kit!" A high-pitched voice sounded out.

Freezing, she turned around. Only to see a tall, blue-skinned twi'lek rushing towards her. Her lekku swung behind her, almost whipping the backs of heads.

"Nali!" She lifted her hand with a grin, waving at the older woman.

Nali worked as a dancer at the pleasure houses of Borgo Prime, a gig Kit did not envy. The twi'lek didn't like to talk about her work, but others recognised her when she was out in public and Kit had managed to put the pieces together. She had been a slave at one point, before a pirate crew liberated her. Only to leave her stranded on Borgo Prime with a debt to pay off. With nowhere else to turn to, the pleasure houses took her in instantly. Only to saddle her with more debt for housing her. Another reason Kit hated this place. Unless you were careful, it would take advantage of you.

Nali dreamed of the day she was able to escape. Work everything off and pull herself out of Borgo Prime credit by credit.

Kit had offered her some of what she saved, feeling for the older woman. Her stash of credits went unused, and Kit would rather they go to a worthy cause than sit gathering dust. But Nali had refused, saying it was her own burden to bear.

The two had formed a steadfast friendship. Nali had taught her how to navigate the space port the first time she visited, believing she was simply a stranded kid. Like she once was. And Kit brought Nali a sense of freedom by regaling her with tales of her travels.

The twi'lek rushed up to her, pulling the girl into her arms. It was the closest Kit could imagine to feeling a mother's embrace.

"Just where have you been, young lady?" The twi'lek pulled back, fixing her with an admonishing look.

Shrugging, Kit looked away. "Around. Here and there."

"Heard rumours about your crew taking out another. What happened to the code?"

"No code preventing us from chasing another crew down in deep space. The only neutral territory in these parts is Borgo Prime."

Nali hummed, looking away. "You know, I never quite understood the pirate code. So many damn rules."

"They aren't too hard to remember." Kit smirked, "You just have to study then. Unless you have someone like Chaelt who will remind you of them at any given opportunity." The old woman was a stickler for the code. No slight of it went past her watchful gaze.

Pulling her over to the counter of the cantina, where steam trailed out in rapid bursts as the cooks worked to keep their awaiting customers satisfied, Nali sat herself upon one of the stools. "That's all that captain has you doing, isn't it? Studying."

"I think he wants me to apprentice with Chaelt. Learn how to navigate." Kit muttered as she pulled herself on the stool. It made sense why he had her study all of those star maps until she memorised them. But Silvo had never mentioned anything outright. "Once I've outgrown being the resident deckhand, of course."

The twi'lek turned to one of the cooks. "Two Kowakian noodles, please."

"'Course, Nali."

"And is that what you want to do?" Nali turned back to her, "Navigation."

"It's arguably one of the most important roles on a crew." Kit shrugged, fingers dancing on the counter.

"But is it what you want to do?" Levelling her with an expectant stare, Nali raised a brow.

Kit chewed at her lip, considering the question. All she had dreamed of was going on raids with the crew. Proving she was strong enough, tough enough. That she deserved their respect. But after the last one... She wasn't so sure she was strong enough. Or ever could be.

But she had to be.

"I guess... I like what I do now. I like fixing things... But I also want to be out there with the crew. Not just hiding on the ship like a coward..."

"Who's been calling you a coward?" Nali frowned.

"Brutus." And Brutus' word was law amongst the crew unless Captain Silvo contradicted him. She was sure many of the crew were of the same opinion.

"Of course. It's always Brutus. Listen, Kit. I've seen you face down pirates bigger than you in the gambling rings. You aren't a coward. I've seen you play."

"Playing games and actually fighting are two very different things."

Nali shrugged, "They aren't so different. You're calculating the odds of winning in each situation. And if there's anything I know, it's that no one beats you when it comes to calculating odds. So always make sure they are in your favour."

Always strike first. Nali and Silvo's words were beginning to merge.

Kit looked up at the twi'lek woman, taking in the mischievous smirk on her face. Nali's words and actions were always enough to help lift her spirits. She was the one singular piece of light within Borgo Prime's darkened, meteorite walls.

Before she could respond, two steaming bowls were placed in front of them. Kit dug in, thanking the maker that she had real food in front of her for the first time in weeks (rations were becoming scarce on board the ship, something Chaelt would be remedying whilst they were at port).

The two caught up on the weeks they didn't see each other whilst they ate. Nali was about a month away from paying off her debt, talking animatedly about securing passage on a ship and leaving Borgo Prime for good. Kit had asked her where she might go. A remorseful look overcame her face. Home, she had said. Back to Ryloth, from where she had been taken as a slave during the reign of the Empire. See if any of her family still remained in the aftermath of the regime's downfall.

Something sharp cut through Kit's heart. She would be sad to see Nali go. But her dreams were more important than the loss of whatever friendship had formed between them. Nali would be able to go home.

Home. Something Kit couldn't quite claim for herself. She'd never known a real home. Nali was lucky to have the memory of one to return to.

All Kit had was a pirate ship and a captain who'd never quite view her the same way she viewed him.

"Maybe one day I'll come visit you." Kit said, eyes glazing over with thoughts of a distant future.

"What, when you're a feared pirate captain yourself?" Nali chuckled. But it wasn't full of mirth like Kit was used to hearing out of her mouth. Something bitter lay underneath the surface.

Frowning, she looked over at the twi'lek. "Maybe."

Nali looked away, sighing. "Come with me."

It was such a low mumble that Kit almost didn't hear it. But she did. And her heart stopped for just a second. "What?"

"Come with me, Kit. Leave that crew of yours behind. You're young. You can still get away from all of this." Nali gestured around. All of the pirates cackling at each other's words like they'd heard the funniest joke in the entire galaxy. Overly loud. Sharp. Menacing.

The easy way blades swung in their hands. Blasters ready to be pulled out at any second. A fight could break out and no one would bat an eye.

For a moment, Kit considered what it might be like leaving it all behind. The ship. The smell of grease and fuel. Long nights spent awake, fixing what the crew didn't want to fix. Following Silco around like a lost rabbit, flighty and terrified of every single loud clang echoing in the hallways.

Perhaps on Ryloth, she could find true freedom. Could settle into a home surrounded by beings who actually cared.

But... It would mean leaving Captain Silvo behind. And she couldn't imagine the crew taking kindly to her deserting them. It was against the code. She'd be hunted, putting Nali and herself in danger.

Shaking her head, she looked at the woman again. "I can't. Desertion's against the code."

Sighing in defeat, Nali looked away, disappointment lining her brow. "You pirates and your codes."

"Dispicable, aren't they?" Kit tried to joke. But it didn't land well.

Part of her mourned not being able to say yes. The other half, dominant in its need to prove herself, was determined to stay. To become strong in the eyes of the crew. Not bow under the pressure weighing upon her shoulders. She needed to prove it.

She wasn't weak. Silvo didn't make a mistake with her.

────

Gambling on the ship was relatively safe. Kit knew the crew; their tells, their plays. Knew the odds. And the odds were always in her favour.

But Borgo Prime's gambling tables were an entirely different beast. Kit had to be extra careful. Rumours of her moniker rushed through the halls of Borgo Prime like a slow burning wildfire. Little Lucky. The tiny sprite from Mad Silvo's crew. Could stare down beings twice her size without flinching.

Many rose to the challenge she brought. Most wished to topple her reputation.

But Kit had never come across a game she couldn't play. An opponent she couldn't best. She never figured out why luck seemed to be drawn to her. It was unconscious; the way she could read her opponents, could predict their plays, tell when they were bluffing.

"You have to look through everything. See what lies on the face of the cards." There was a mad glimmer in Captain Silco's eye when he gave her that monologue. Something deep and driven. "Look through the cup to see the dice underneath. Tear through your opponents defenses; know when they're lying, when they have a bad hand, when they have a good one. You're good at reading the surface, Kit. But you have to peel that layer back and pry away at what's underneath. That's the secret to winning every single time."

That was when he taught her to play liar's dice for the first time. Kept her playing until she could correctly predict every single number that lay beneath his own cup. Searched her face like there was some hidden sign within it; something he could magnify.

He always watched her matches on Borgo Prime in the same way. Focused. Uncharacteristically so. Like he was looking for something. Stood to the side, one hand on his chin.

He'd never disclosed exactly what it was. But Kit knew there was something. His stance was almost expectant.

It was the same in this current match. Her opponent — a Rodian male — had forced himself in front of her whilst she made her way back to the ship, right in the centre of the docks. In front of an expectant crowd, Kit was forced to accept the gauntlet he threw down. Word travelled. Soon enough, a hefty crowd of onlookers had gathered to watch, craning their necks for even a glimpse of deft hands, slamming cups and clattering dice, bids placed like it was life or death.

Like it was a novelty.

Two more players had joined from other crews. But they were unimportant. Small fish against the large, cannibalistic battle. Everyone knew that the true show lay between herself and her challenger — Hoolen, his name was. He spoke in clipped Huttese, a language all pirates learned. The second most used language amongst their peers other than galactic basic.

Her crew was gathered around her side of the table; Captain Silvo, Chaelt, Kona, Gunter. Hoolen's crew was mirroring. Kit couldn't help but notice the tense glances held between Silvo and the captain of the opposing crew. They stood side by side at the centre point, representatives to watch for cheating. Kit only picked up snippets of their conversation.

"Hoolen's gambled in the halls of Canto Bight. You sure your girl can keep up?"

Silvo hummed, turning to him with a mischievous smirk. "You want to know why she's called Little Lucky? Because her luck never runs out."

She couldn't help but stir at the swell of pride that ran through her. Captain Silvo's faith was a mask she could wear. Everlasting confidence.

"Well, it's about to." The other captain muttered.

"We shall see."

Kit focused herself on the game, ignoring the eyes boring into her. The opponents on either side of her were down to two and one dice respectively. Hoolen was down to four. And Kit? Still had all five. The frustration was seeping into the air, as tangible as the desperation in their eyes were.

She could practically hear their thoughts. How is she beating us? She's never once lost her composure. How does she sit there and lie like it's so easy? But Kit had an unseen advantage. Catching Captain Silvo's gaze, he nodded at her subtly. Her eyes locked back on her opponents cups.

See through.

They shook their dice inside the cups, before slamming them on the table quickly. Each player looked at their dice. Kit took a quick glance. A six. Two fives. Two twos. The man to her left started. Sweat dribbled down his skin.

"Two twos."

"Three twos." Kit increased the bid. If the other man was bidding two, then he had at least one. And was counting on there to be at least one more on the table. Based on the way his eyes flickered to her briefly, she was right.

All heads turned to the quarren to her right. "Four twos." He said.

Hoolen was next. "Three fours." He said in Huttese, looking straight across at Kit.

As the next player weighed their options, Kit focused on the cups. See through them. The man to her right had a single two. The man to her left, a two and a four. Hoolen's cup held two fours, a five, a one and a six.

She didn't know just how she could see. But she could. Like the numbers on the dice revealed themselves to her through a will of their own. She added up the numbers in her head quickly. Four twos. Three fours. Three fives. Two sixes.

But it was Hoolen's one that was the danger. They were playing Canto Bight rules, where ones were wild and could be used to bolster your bet. Three fours, he had bet. There were three on the table. But Hoolen was counting his one in the mix, making it four.

She looked at the man next to her. Call the bluff, she begged. If he did, it would be either him or Hoolen losing a dice. If he upped to four, Kit could call the bluff only for Hoolen to use his wild one. Then she'd lose a dice.

"Four fours."

The round continued for another turn.

"Three fives."

"Liar."

Kit's lip curled up. Idiot.

They lifted their cups. And indeed, her fives were revealed alongside Hoolen's. The quarren cursed, chucking his cup down and rising from the table.

The credits in the centre of the table glimmered, a little closer to being in her hands. They bet one hundred each. Pretty low numbers in comparison to previous bets she'd made in games. But this wasn't about credits. It was about reputation. Hoolen wanted to topple her crown.

He would not.

Across the table, Hoolen's eyes narrowed slightly. Kit often found Rodian's one of the harder species to read. Their tight, extended mouths and bug-like eyes gave them an almost permanent expression of surprise. But sometimes, their antenna would twitch uncontrollably. A silent language, just like all of the others.

Hoolen was good at keeping his under control.

Lifting her chin challengingly, Kit scooped her dice back into the cup. "So, is it you first? Or do we roll to decide."

"Let's roll."

They slammed their cups down, the dice clattering. The other man in the game had no chance of gaining the advantage of going first. With only two dice, he'd have to roll high numbers on both. Odds were on either Kit or Hoolen.

Holen; fifteen. The unnamed man; six. Kit; seventeen.

"I bid first." Kit said.

A new round began. It wasn't long until the other man was removed from the game as well. It was down to Kit and Hoolen, with four and three dice respectively. Kit decided to make the game more interesting, purposefully throwing a round. She couldn't make it too obvious that she already had this game unpicked, victory already in her hands.

But she'd taken some influence from Silvo. She liked to put on a good show.

With each clatter of the dice, heads leaned further into the action in anticipation. The breath in the air stilled. Silence locked them inside their game, the only thing breaking through being the sound of the cups slamming onto the table and rapid bids being placed. The rounds moved quickly.

"Four twos."

"Three threes."

"One six."

"Liar!"

Until it came down to two singular dice. One on each side. Kit's heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline rushing through her veins. This was it. The final moment.

Looking under her cup, she found a five.

Across the table, Hoolen's six stared back at her, through the cup.

Controlling the twitch in her jaw, she looked up at him. Her own face was reflected back in those black voids of his eyes. She lost her dice in the last round, so she got the starting bid.

"One six."

With a single bid, the game was hers. Hoolen had no hope in this situation. Kit was correct, only one six lay on the table. But Hoolen didn't know for certain. He could call her bluff, thinking she did indeed have a six, only for it to be revealed as the correct bid. He could up to two, taking a chance on Kit having a six herself, allowing Kit to call the bluff. There was only one. He'd lose either way.

But Kit just wanted to watch him squirm as he attempted to figure out what to do

She could see the thoughts swirl behind his eyes. The chance she was telling the truth. Or she was lying to throw him.

Silence echoed around them. So much so that she could hear her own heart thrumming inside her ear. The blood rush.

Hoolen leaned in. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?"

She could see him consider it for a moment. The odds of there being more than one six on the table.

"Liar."

Kit released a breathy laugh. They lifted their cups to reveal their final rolls. Her five. His six.

"I guess I am."

The eruption was as elating as it always was. Hoolen slumped in his seat. Behind her, her crew cheered. Hands shook her shoulders. With a grin, Kit gathered the pile of credits closer to her, before extending her hand out to Hoolen expectantly.

His expression did not give away anything. Not defeat. Not confusion.

Certainly not the rage rising to the surface.

One hand swiped the cups off the table — dice skittered along the ground — before he launched across it, pulling her up by her leather tunic.

"You're a damn cheat." The Huttese out of his mouth was sharp and full of derision. A quiet, festering fury. "What is it? Loaded dice? Slight of hand?"

Kit looked up at him, schooling any fear that might place her back in time. Gritting her jaw, she stared back at her opponent. "I don't cheat." She replied in her own jagged Huttese.

She wouldn't call it cheating, at least. Just using the skills she had at her disposal. Sometimes it just happened, she could help but look through the cups like they were glass. The numbers just stared back at her. Like it was the will of something far beyond her comprehension.

"Now, now." Captain Silvo stepped forward, an easy smile on his face. "I'd ask you to put my deck hand down. I'm rather fond of her."

Hoolen glared back at him, fist tightening, green skin turning lighter at the strain.

"Hoolen." One command from his captain, and Hoolen released her.

Kit breathed normally again, readjusting her tunic. She made sure to leave no trace of being bothered by the whole situation. That another's hands were in her mind, pulling her up a tight staircase. She held her head high. Because she was the victor. And any supposed cheating couldn't be proved.

Hoolen's captain pulled at his shoulder. The Rodian spat on the table before storming off after him.

Captain Silvo beckoned her with a tilt of the head. "Let's go."

The crew let them pass easily. One hand clamped around the back of her shoulder as he leaned in. "You used what I taught you?"

Nodding, Kit looked as he pulled back. "I did."

"And?"

Swallowing, she looked away. "I— It's like I could see through them. All of the cups. I could see the numbers and it was so— so clear."

Silvo's face was unreadable for a moment, like there was something inside his head, nagging at the back of his brain. He went quiet for a moment. Not only in voice, but in demeanour as well. Kit had learned to read these strange shifts like she was calling bluffs around the gambling table.

"Good." He muttered, before a strained smile pulled at his lips. Turning back to her, he patted her on the shoulder. "Good."

She wanted to pry. To ask him just what he was searching for within her. What secrets lay inside that brain of his, ones he wasn't willing to display. To share.

Instead, she beamed at the praise. Like she could live off of Silvo's approval. It was something she sought everyday, considering she couldn't get the one single thing she wanted. Where the love of a father might be out of reach, she could at least get the approval of one. It was admiration in a different form.

Any thoughts of asking about these strange happenings slipped into the back of her mind.

────

The bowels of Borgo Prime were a place Kit scurried to when she needed a break from everything. The ship. Brutus' snarling commands. Cacophonies too loud to even focus through. It was quieter at the bottom of the suspended asteroid. Calmer. Cooler.

She could think clearly.

They'd be setting out soon. Another route charted through outer rim territories. Silvo had picked up some intel on potential plunders. Most of the time, they simply waited for ships to come across them. But she heard him whispering with Kona and Chaelt. A lucrative opportunity.

A barge transporting credits. The perfect ship to loot. New republic dignitaries were hilariously weak. Their forces still attempted to amass themselves through the crumbling formation of the galaxy's new governing body. But the senate could hardly pull themselves together. Fractured from countless power struggles to re-establish order after the Empire fell.

Or so Kit had heard.

Part of her couldn't wait to leave Borgo Prime; the stench, the loudness, the desperate bodies searching for something to fill the voids in their hearts. The picture of her future...

Another part didn't want to leave just yet. Because it might be the last time she ever saw Nali. The twi'lek might be gone by the time they made port again. Another part — traitorous and tiny — whispered in her ear; go with her. To Ryloth. Where a more normal life awaited her. Wasn't that all she ever wanted? Something far away from the cruelty of the galaxy.

But she knew that viciousness would only catch up to her eventually. Everywhere in the galaxy monsters roamed. They took the form of drunken parents who beat their kids when they fell out of line. Or for even just existing. They lived within the slavers that plucked Nali from her home. And they lived within the pirates that surrounded her. Those who would step on the weak to gain what they wanted.

Silvo's words rattled inside her brain.

You and I are both aware of the brutality of this galaxy. It's full of selfish, cruel and bitter people. People who harm people like us; unfortunate, starving brats on a planet that doesn't care for us. People like us, we've had nothing. So we have to learn to take what we're owed.

Kit had learned. Around a gambling table, she took. Stepped on those whose wills were weaker than hers. She played them to the tune of her own making. The credits she had amounted — sitting useless, but hers — was proof of that.

If she was to ever survive the galaxy, she had to learn to bite back. If she went with Nali, she'd become weak again. Prey to another monster. But if she stayed, Silvo could help her be strong. So she'd never fall victim again.

Pulling the vibro-blade from its sheath, she studied it. It was small and thin. But wickedly sharp. She could conceal it. Keep her ace hidden before she was ready to reveal it. A perfect weapon for a gambler.

Every gift — trinkets from planets they'd visited, some novel and some actually worth more than just a handful of credits — from Captain Silvo was something she treasured. At first, the gifts were strange to her. She almost expected for him to ask for something in return. But he never did. Just dropped things into her hands like it was easy for him. Like it was nothing. But it was everything to her.

The vibro-blade was the greatest gift of all. Because it was proof he truly understood her.

The way her own father never even bothered to.

Her commlink buzzed.

Sighing, Kit lifted it to her mouth.

"Little lucky, here."

"Brat," Brutus' snarl was obvious through the buzz, "We need you back at the ship. Nav-computers sparked."

"Be there in a few."

Clicking it off, she turned away from the bannister overlooking the gap in the asteroid.

Only to bump into a hard chest. Stepping back, she looked up. It was Hoolen. Glaring and threateningly angry. Keeping her expression in check, Kit scowled back at him.

"Oh, you." She said, "Come for a rematch? You'll only lose again."

"You cheated." Hoolen stepped towards her, one bony finger jabbing towards her chest. "I may not be able to prove it, but I just know it. I want my credits back."

"I earned those credits." Kit bit back. It was increasingly hard to not let that sliver of fear show its face. Especially since Holen had cornered her somewhere isolated. She forced it down, keeping her narrowed gaze on him whilst her periphery traced the movement of his hands. "It isn't my fault Canto Bight inflated your ego so much that you feel humiliated."

His left antennae twitched. A sign of agitation.

"You did humiliate me. I'm the laughing stock of my crew. Beaten by a child."

"You were the one that lost. It's hardly my problem." Kit tried to brush past him. Her comm was buzzing at her hip again.

But Hoolen wasn't done. Whatever slight he felt, he wanted recompense. A hand enclosed around her forearm, grip cutting off her circulation. Kit gasped slightly, throat swelling up. Pulled around, Hoolen's face bored into her own. For a moment, another replaced it. Sweaty brow and snarling mouth. Her half-terrified gaze was reflected back at her.

Palpitations ran through her chest. But this wasn't the warm-coated rush of adrenaline. It was cold, like the grip around her arm. She attempted to pry it free. But the Rodian's grip was like steel.

"You humiliate me and have the gall to say you earned those credits. If you hadn't cheated, I would have won that game. The odds were in my favour."

Shuffling away from him, her back hit the bannister. The Rodian closed in on her, trapping her.

"I gave you the chance." Kit ground out. "Maybe I'm just better than you."

The panic was rising, swift and surging. And she was trapped, just like she had been for years. Just like she was against that enemy pirate. That scared child had re-emerged, clutching onto submission like it was a shield.

She was brave. She could be brave. And strong. She promised Silvo. Silvo's words. They lingered inside her brain, the echo bouncing against her skull with every heartbeat. Strike first.

A knife appeared, the blade running down her cheek. "You humiliated me." Hoolen repeated, like the statement would ring any clearer, "Now, I humiliate you. Your crew will cast you out once they realise you are a useless little weakling. Your captain will abandon you. Your luck's run out."

Silvo's words rang like a bell in her head. Clear as the stars.

Always make sure you strike first.

Strike first. Strike first. Strike first.

Hoolen released a strangled gasp. Feeling something warm coating her hand, Kit looked down. Horror overtook her. Her left arm was still in his iron-like grip. Her right was wrapped firmly around her vibro-blade. Which was driven deep into Hoolen's gut.

"No." Kit muttered, pulling the knife free. It made a sickening squelching sound. More blood spilled, thick and viscous. "No, no, no, no."

Hoolen stumbled, clutching onto her shoulders. He mumbled something in garbled Rodian that Kit couldn't understand, before he fell to the floor.

Kit slumped against the railing, vision swimming. The blood coated knife floated in and out of focus. She turned and retched over the bannister.

When she finished, she didn't want to look back, but she did. Hoolen lay on the floor, still. Blood almost reached Kit's boots in a crimson pool. Stepping back, she wiped her mouth, before scraping her blade off the side of her trousers.

Tingling numbness overtook. She gripped her knife tight to combat it.

She struck first. She struck first, and someone was dead. Another pirate was dead. Port Borgo was neutral ground. Fatal violence against other pirates was strictly forbidden. Fights were fine. They were expected. But murder. It was not.

Kit was utterly and royally screwed.