Chapter Text
They were being followed. Devon couldn’t tell if Maul was aware, but the shadow began tracking them as soon as they stepped off the gangplank of their overly flashy ship.
A tail in a shipyard could mean any number of things: a scrapper looking to strip their ship of its brand new durasteel plating, a smuggler looking to get an in with Maul, or even a simple pick-pocket hoping to lift some beskar off a ship of Mandalorian build. They were pretty good, Devon at least could admit that, nothing but a vaguely humanoid shape in the shadows visible when she twisted around to try and catch sight of them. But without leaving Maul’s side or drawing attention to them, Devon couldn’t do more than remain vigilant and listen to the whispers of the Force at her back.
Their visit to the shipyards was supposed to be brief, anyway. The ship needed a new hyperdrive, and despite the offer of spare parts from the syndicate, Maul insisted he and Devon visit the shipyard alone. It would likely be another test, just like the handful he’d tossed at her during their two week stay on Corellia. But just like the previous tests, he neither explained his reasoning nor gave her any kind of instruction.
Actually, there was a very high chance the shadow tailing them was part of that unspoken test, if that’s what this was. But Devon knew better than to ask. Two weeks with Maul taught her many things very quickly; among those lessons was how unlikely Maul was to give her a straight answer to just about any question asked without significant effort on Devon’s part.
And so despite her misgivings and discomfort, Devon did her best to stay aware yet ignore whoever it was trailing after them as they hurried through the dingy edges of the shipyard.
Before they entered the yard’s hub to discuss their business with the quartermaster, Maul paused without looking at Devon. She, of course, mirrored him, remaining in the space half a step and to his left she usually occupied these days.
“I’d like you to make the negotiations today.” Even when speaking to her he did not turn or face her, his voice low and steady. “I’m sure you are plenty capable of this?”
Negotiations. Devon could read between the lines: Maul wanted her to talk the quartermaster into giving them a hyperdrive without any kind of exchange of credits or questions asked. It would be easy, of course, and Devon felt a vague sense of disappointment. Petty thievery and simple Force suggestion tactics were not why she agreed to be his apprentice.
Still, she only nodded. “I can do it.”
“Good,” Maul hummed, then stepped away. “I have other business to attend to. Return to the ship within an hour.” He did at least finally glance at her, giving her a short nod before pulling the hood of his dark cloak up and disappearing behind a group of Nautolans in dingy work-wear.
For a moment, Devon watched him go. It was difficult to tell if it was faith in her abilities or yet another piece of his unspoken tests that led him to send her in alone, and although Devon was loath to admit it, even to herself, the solitude still unsettled her. Master Daki so rarely left her alone in their years on the run; not because he didn’t believe in her, but because every separation could become permanent with no hope of returning to each other’s sides.
Pushing the thought of her master aside, Devon stood a little straighter, adjusted her own cloak’s hood, and briefly traced the feeling of the saber hooked to her belt. It offered no comfort, not like her own would have, but it at least offered protection, which was as close to comfort as she could get.
As she expected, it took no real effort at all to sweet-talk her way into the quartermaster handing off whatever she wanted. He was a distracted man, Human save for a few cybernetic implants, and not once did he question Devon as she trailed sure fingers through the air, waving away any desire he had to question her.
It took far more effort to actually locate a hyperdrive that wasn’t already worse for wear than their ship’s current drive. In the end, Devon ripped one out of an old Nu-class that was missing both wings. By the looks of it, they’d been blasted clean off, which weakened the body so severely it took very little effort at all to tear the siding away and disconnect the hyperdrive from the guts of the scrap ship.
By the time Devon loaded the new hyperdrive onto a little cart she’d nicked from the shipyard’s hub, she had only a few minutes to hurry back to the ship before Maul’s given time frame was up. While she wasn’t particularly concerned about being reprimanded for being late, she refused to let Maul beat her back to the ship if only to avoid leaving the ship’s other occupants alone with Maul.
She was so close to their ship she could see the gangplank already lowered and waiting for her when the shadow caught her attention again. It hadn’t followed her into the heaps of rubble and wrecked ships, and the manual work of acquiring the new hyperdrive had kept Devon’s focus well enough for her to push the shadow from her mind while she worked.
Now, without Maul at her side, she didn’t bother hiding her drawn attention. She paused in the empty street, shaking her hood off with a quick jerk of her head and wriggle of both lekku, twitching a little as she focused on every little sound she could hear, every flicker she could feel.
At first she felt nothing, just the white noise of the shipyard and the distant sound of crashing waves. And then- there!
She spun on her heel, eyes searching for the flicker of movement. Whoever it was following her was definitely humanoid, and small without any childlike proportions or clumsiness to their movements. Judging by the speed they moved and the easily camouflaged attire, Devon would bet money on them being some kind of tracker for hire, possibly even a true bounty hunter. But they disappeared too quickly between the steep wall of a warehouse and some kind of stacked storage containers for Devon to get more than a passing glimpse.
Devon hesitated for only a moment before abandoning the cart and hyperdrive and dashing after the shadow. But to her frustration, there were no signs of life when she reached the narrow alley. Disappointed but not surprised, Devon returned to the cart and finished pushing the hyperdrive back to the ship.
When Maul acquired the beat up Mark 3 Kom’rk class, Devon was the first to point out how starkly it would stand out in just about any ship port. But Maul only waved her off dismissively, spouting something about using the reputation of Mandalorians to their advantage. Privately, Devon suspected he’d just grown accustomed to the Mandalorian class of ships, since they’d passed up on a light freighter that matched the Kom’rk in speed and cost, and two attack shuttles that were both cheaper and had more fire power and wouldn’t have needed new hyperdrives.
After a week of using the ship as a glorified planetside transport, Maul still hadn’t given the thing a name. It was a small detail, but a detail Devon couldn’t help but notice. She wasn’t the only one, either. Two-Boots seemed fine with rattling off the entire ship’s class and model name, but Rylee had made more than a few muttered comments about the lack of personalized name. Because of that, Devon kept offering Maul suggestions, all of which he repeatedly dismissed.
If he kept dismissing her ideas, she planned to just choose one herself so she and Rylee could have a name for their current (if temporary) home.
When Maul met her at the top of the gangplank, she waved one hand at the hyperdrive, meeting his gaze with a small glare that was less intentional and more her default as of late. “I got what we need,” she said, simply, daring him to try questioning her methods or why she was, technically, late.
Maul only eyed the hyperdrive, one hand lingering at his jaw as he inspected the part. “This will do,” he finally said. “Leave it in the cargo bay.”
Briefly, Devon glanced over her shoulder to look for another glimpse of the shadow. But the gangplank was already rising, and when she sighed and turned back around, Maul raised one eyebrow at her, head tilting slightly. But just as he could avoid giving answers, so could she, simply meeting his gaze before pushing the cart further into the ship.
After depositing the hyperdrive in the near-empty cargo bay, Devon made her way to the small galley. Mark 3’s were small, designed for short distance travel for pairs or possibly trios, not the four passenger count currently residing in the ship. And because two of those passengers were borderline forbidden from stepping foot outside, after only a week using the ship things were starting to feel a little cramped.
As she hoped, Maul was nowhere to be seen in the small but warmly lit galley. Whatever Mandalorian owned the ship prior to Maul’s acquisition had stripped it of everything but the bare essentials, but luckily left the built-in nanowave cooker and inlaid benches, along with a small wash station and some empty, dusty storage compartments. The table that must have existed at one point was gone, but Devon and Rylee had pushed a couple of crates together which worked well enough.
This was where she found the other half of the ship’s passengers. Two-Boots was shut down, eyes dim and head lolling forward in his seat on the built-in bench, turned towards the charging port so the short cable she’d tracked down for him could reach the power coupling siphoning power from the ship itself directly to the droid. Beside him sat Rylee, looking despondent as he stared into an empty cup. Going off the crumbs and crumpled wrapper on the crate closest to him, Two-Boots must have forced him to eat a ration bar before powering down.
Rylee didn’t look up when Devon slid into the seat beside him, nudging the side of his boot with the toe of hers despite his lack of reaction to her arrival as she shucked her cloak off and tossed it onto one of the crate-tables.
In the first few days on the run, during the journey to Corellia and the strange period of limbo where they’d essentially lived in a backroom of the Crimson Dawn’s latest headquarters, Devon and Rylee spent almost every second together, along with Two-Boots.
While Maul assisted Dryden Vos in return for their rescue transport, he’d made it crystal clear they were not to leave their quarters, not for any reason whatsoever. A hunched over minion delivered ration bars and bed rolls, leaving Devon and Rylee to entertain themselves with very little for very long periods of time. In those first few days, the pain of their respective losses was almost too great to feel, and with nothing to do but sit around, the state of limbo left them both oddly adrift.
Two-Boots had done his best to entertain them, at least, going so far as to use his own fingertip to scratch a sloppy game board into the duracrete floor of their makeshift quarters. They didn’t have the right pieces, but they’d managed to come up with a poor approximation of dejarik, wasting hours at a time trading wins and losses.
During the first few days, Rylee was as reserved as Devon, the loss and exhaustion dimming him in a way Devon could easily understand. But when they were released from the quarters and Maul led them to their new ship to begin repairs, she’d hoped some of that lackluster disinterest would begin to fall away. She didn’t expect Rylee to get over the loss of his father, of course not, but she’d truly thought having something to focus on would help the boy. He didn’t have her training, after all, and her single failed attempt to teach him meditation on a particularly dull afternoon had failed spectacularly.
But instead of improving, Rylee’s condition only seemed to worsen as time went on. While he’d helped with the internal repairs and clean-up required to turn the ship livable, he seemed to withdraw into himself exponentially. Even Two-Boots was worried; he’d said as much to Devon only the night before, a hushed whisper when Rylee was busy in the fresher and Devon was trying to repair a tear in one of the seams of her vest.
The droid was right to voice his concerns. As Devon watched Rylee now, sitting slumped against the back of the bench, eyes far away despite their fixed point on the blue plastoid cup held listlessly between slack fingers, she wondered if the boy would ever escape the fog that held him captive.
“I found us a new hyperdrive,” she said, when he remained silent. “So we might actually be able to leave this place sooner rather than later.”
“Doesn’t mean we’ll actually leave,” Rylee muttered, still staring down at his empty cup.
Devon felt her shoulders tense, one lek twitching with agitation. It was difficult not to snap at Rylee, sometimes. It wasn’t because he provoked her or that she wanted to snap at him, it was just that snapping at Maul and Two-Boots was about as rewarding as arguing with a wall. Maul would only dismiss her, or worse, try asking her some convoluted question to trick her into sinking further into her own frustration and anger. And Two-Boots would just blink at her and make some comment on noting her increased agitation.
But when she snapped at Rylee, he tended to flinch and shy away, taking whatever snippy comment she made without putting up any fight. He was like a sponge ready to absorb whatever spiteful accusations she could come up with, and while it made Devon feel sick and guilty, it was a too-easy way to burn off some of the fury that simmered at the back of her mind at all times, these days.
Instead of snapping, she only sighed. “Maul promised we would,” she said, a phrase she found herself repeating almost every day both to Rylee and to herself. “He said all we need are the new drive and supplies. We’ve got the hyperdrive, and I know there are supplies waiting for us back at the Dawn’s stronghold.”
Finally, Rylee set the cup he’d been so fixated on aside and turned to face Devon, pulling one leg up onto the bench and leaning his temple against the wall. “And then what? It’s not like we can just fly to Coruscant and waltz into the Imperial residential buildings.”
“Well, no…” Devon tried to settle more comfortably on the bench, mirroring Rylee’s position unconsciously. “But with the right clearance codes we can at least make it to the surface. From there, it’s just a matter of locating your mom.”
At the mention of his mother, Rylee’s gaze drifted away again. “I don’t even know where she lives,” he mumbled, shoulders hunching inwards as he spoke. “For all I know, maybe she’s already been transferred to another planet.”
Instead of agreeing, since Rylee was technically correct, Devon reached out and snagged the sleeve of his jacket. “Hey,” she murmured, trying for soft and comforting. “We’ll find her, okay? I bet Two-Boots has her exact location saved somewhere in his database.”
Rylee didn’t shake her away, but he did look down at her hand with a pinched expression. The pink of her skin was so bright against the faded brown of his jacket, even covered in more grease from her work with the scrap ship than she’d realized.
“What if…” Rylee trailed off, fists clenching in his lap. Reluctantly, Devon pulled her hand away from his as he spoke. “What if we don’t find her?”
“I told you we wi-”
Shaking his head, Rylee leaned forward, briefly glancing over his shoulder where Two-Boots sat motionless and silent. “No, I mean- what if we don’t find her? What if we don’t even try?”
This wasn’t the first time Rylee made the implication, but it was the first time he’d said it so outright. The first time he mentioned it, Two-Boots shut the idea down so quickly Devon was reminded he was, technically, once an officer of the law. And unfortunately, Devon agreed with the droid.
“You need to go home,” she said, shaking her head as her mouth twisted, hands curling in her lap. “This isn’t where you belong, Rylee.”
“I don’t belong anywhere!” His voice picked up in volume quickly, his eyes widening, glassy and dark. “My home is gone, my dad is- everything I know is gone but Two-Boots, and he’s-” he cut himself off with a frustrated little sound, bonking his head against the wall, hands twisting in the air, each finger trembling. “If I live with Mom she’s gonna make me enlist in the Academy and I can’t, Devon, I can’t not after they-”
Before Rylee worked himself up even further, Devon leaned close and snatched his hands out of the air, squeezing them between her own in a gesture her master once did for her when she was small and scared and fresh off the battlefield in the early days of the war. “You don’t belong here,” she repeated, ducking her head to catch his gaze. “You don’t want this life, I promise you. You don’t want to live in constant fear, always on the run. You have a chance to be normal.” After a forced slow breath, she added, “And… I hear the Academy could be worse. Maybe you can-”
“Can be a good little Imperial cadet?” Rylee scoffed, but he didn’t pull his hands away from hers where she still held them in a vice grip that was probably bordering on painful. “How can you say that? The Empire wants you dead. Just for existing. They killed your master!”
The ember that flared to life under blasterfire and burning red sabers sparked red-hot in her chest, the anger she’d spent the full two weeks trying so hard to contain climbing up her throat like bile. “You have a chance to be normal!” she hissed again, squeezing his hands even harder until she felt the fine bones in his hand flex and slip. “You still have one parent, you can leave, you can get out of this nightmare. Don’t you want that?”
“I don’t-” Rylee’s jaw flexed, his fingers curling until the blunt ends of his bitten nails dug into the pads of Devon’s fingers. “I don’t know,” he whispered, as his shoulders drew up to his ears and he pulled his hands away with a sloppy tug so he could pull his knees up and hug his legs to his chest. “I just know I can’t ever live a life with the Empire in control.”
The impulse to snap was too strong, clawing at her throat to lash out at anyone she could, to make Rylee hurt just for the sake of control. It took every fiber of her being to bite back the harsh words itching to be said. Instead, with clipped, careful words, she bit out, “Then you’re in the wrong galaxy.” Frustrated with herself and with Rylee, Devon slid off the bench and stood up, fists clenched. She wanted to say more. She wanted to explain how lucky he was to even have the choice, how she would give anything to run away to someone safe, someone who loved her, who would take care of her. She wanted to shout and scream and claw through her own rage until it tore the entire Empire down, even if it took her down with it.
Instead, she turned on her heel and stalked away, ignoring the soft utterance of her name in favor of letting the blood rushing hot through her, amplifying her pulse so loudly she could feel it in the very tips of her lekku.
The ship wasn’t large enough for individual personal rooms. Technically, she and Maul shared one sleeping quarters, and Rylee and Two-Boots shared the other, but Devon had yet to see Maul even sleep in his bunk. Hoping it would be as empty as usual, she slammed a fist into the door controls and slipped inside with the intent to just curl up and go to sleep, since meditation would likely only intensify her already out of control emotions.
But the so frequently empty quarters were not, in fact, empty.
“You are upset, Devon.” Maul’s voice was, as was quite frequent these days, deceptively soft. He had a way of speaking that was not unlike a purr, each word spoken clearly yet muted, lilting and almost melodic.
“I’m fine,” she snapped, ignoring him in favor of heading to her bunk and crawling straight in. They were built into the wall, and would likely have been cramped if she were much taller. Instead, the small size was somewhat comforting, and she turned her back on Maul where he sat in his own bunk tinkering away at the joint of his knee.
There was no chance she’d get to sleep now, not with Maul there, but she wasn’t about to turn tail and run. That left her with nothing to do but stay curled tightly in a tense little ball, crammed so far into her bunk her forehead pressed against the cool paneling of the ship’s wall. The cursed saber at her hip dug into the bone, but she didn’t dare move to adjust it.
“A spat with the Lawson boy, I presume?”
She didn’t respond. Arguing with Maul was a lost cause, and while ignoring him often led to cruelty on his part, it was all Devon could muster. Sometimes he even let her get away with it.
Tonight was not one of those times. “Devon,” he said her name again, sharper this time. “As I have said before, the boy’s presence is a distraction we do not need.”
He was right, he had said it before, and every single time, Devon’s response was the same: “Feel free to put more effort into getting him home where he belongs.” She didn’t bother raising her voice above a biting mumble, she knew Maul would hear it.
A sigh, long and drawn out, so obviously theatrical. Maul’s dramatics were, possibly, one of Devon’s least favorite characteristics. With an ache that was as sharp as the moment it began, she missed her master’s steady tone and placid manner; traits that as a young padawan she found so difficult to parse were now one of the things Devon missed most.
“And as I have said before, a journey to Coruscant is not an easy one. It would be far easier to give the boy and the droid a ship and leave them t-”
“To what?” Finally, Devon twisted around to face Maul with a sneer, teeth bared. “To fly in the core alone? To serve them on a silver platter to the Empire? You promised you would get him home safe.”
Again, Maul sighed, raising a hand to rub his fingertips into his forehead and temple. “And I believe I also mentioned it would take time. You must have patience.”
Now that she’d given in and turned around, Devon was unable to pull away again. Snapping at Rylee was easy, but snapping at Maul, while often pointless, gave her a sick feeling of satisfaction. “What, are you scared I’ll try leaving with him? Scared I’ll leave you yet again, all alone without an apprentice?”
She’d hoped today would be a day Maul would let her hurl insults as he met them with a few of his own; it was not.
“You already made your choice,” he simply said, meeting her furious gaze head on. “I do not think you will run anymore.”
But because Devon knew full well he was right, she could only snarl, a useless sound when paired with inaction. And worse, the quirk of Maul’s brow and the way his placid expression subtly twisted with pleasure at the sight of her anger stole the snarl from Devon’s throat. His satisfaction at her every breaking point never failed to fill her stomach with dread, even as she continued to give in to it.
His point made, Maul rose to his feet, setting aside the small tool kit she now noticed sitting on his thigh. “I will leave you to your rest,” he said, already stepping toward the door. “Tomorrow, we will depart.” At the doorway to their shared quarters, he paused, turning back to Devon. “Is that… suitable for you?”
Devon could lash out, but she didn’t want to see that twisted amusement again. “Close the door on your way out,” she said. As an afterthought, she added a carefully neutral, “Please.”
It seemed to surprise Maul, a flash of something uncertain there and gone again in his gaze before it vanished and he disappeared back into the ship. Thankfully, he did ensure the door shut properly, and Devon reached to flick off the lights. It might not have been very late, but it wasn’t like she had any kind of schedule to keep anymore. And now there was nobody to care to remind her, Devon found herself adrift more often than not.
When she awoke from dreams of bleeding sabers and burning wounds and the feeling of being crushed under blows that seemed to ricochet throw the Force, the small room was still dark, and with no chronometer on her person, she had no idea what time it was. The ship felt quiet, settled, and it only took a glance to see Maul’s bunk was still empty.
Just as she was about to turn over and return to her nightmares, Devon caught sight of a head of dark hair and a fading brown jacket at the edge of her vision. Bleary, she turned over more fully to look down at the floor beside her bed. Curled with his back to the short wall that held her bed, Rylee was dead asleep.
He was still in his boots, and he didn’t really look comfortable, but Devon didn’t wake him. After the days spent sharing quarters and sleeping almost back to back on their bed rolls, she knew how little sleep came to him. She did, at least, consider waking him up if only to tell him to take Maul’s bed, but somehow she doubted Rylee would accept that offer. But after dismissing the idea, she lay back down, this time with her hand hanging down just low enough for her fingertips to lightly rest on his shoulder.
Before Devon fell back asleep, a whisper broke the silence.
“You said I could help.”
Devon almost didn’t understand, her mind still clouded from sleep. But a second later she remembered, remembered promising to kill the ones who took her master, took his father, and she remembered agreeing to let him help. She pulled her hand away and turned on her back, hands resting on her stomach. She’d pushed the borrowed saber into the corner of her bunk before sleeping, and almost considered reaching out for it.
“That doesn’t mean I think you should,” she whispered, eyes closed even if there was nothing to see in the darkness. “You shouldn’t be forced into this life. You don’t want it, Rylee. Trust me.”
She heard a shuffling noise, possibly Rylee turning over as well, but Devon didn’t check. “My mom works for the Empire.” Rylee’s voice was still low, but somehow less despondent than it had sounded in days. “She told me to trust them and to listen to them, she always has. She always thought Dad’s dislike of them was just a personal grudge.” He went quiet, but Devon didn’t speak up, waiting for him to finish. “I can’t just… go back to that. I can’t, okay?”
How was Devon supposed to argue? She couldn’t. “I’m just trying to protect you,” she said, after a long beat. “It’s not safe.”
“What, being on the run?” Rylee asked, then huffed a harsh sigh. “Or being around Maul?”
Both, but he obviously knew that. Devon sighed, swallowing back her bite. She tried a different tactic. “Two-Boots would never let you stay. He promised your father he would get you to your mother, as he’s so helpfully reminded us.” The droid, while willing to wait for Maul to help Rylee and himself to Coruscant, never failed to remind Devon and Rylee both, and Maul when he was around, that their time spent on Corellia was temporary and he and Rylee would be on their way as soon as physically possible.
The droid, at least, was an easy topic, and Devon pulled away from the tension in favor of it. “Where is he, anyway? Did he really let you come sleep in here alone?” She might’ve initially missed Rylee’s presence in the dark room, but she definitely hadn’t missed a stray police droid laying about.
“He’s right outside the door,” Rylee sighed, exhaustion overtaking his voice. “But I think so long as Maul is… wherever he is, Two-Boots’ll stay there.”
Briefly, Devon leaned up to glance at the door, but it was too hard to see in the dark. Laying back down, she murmured, “I guess that’s fine.” Then, before she let herself drift off again, she pulled her pillow out from under her head and offered it blindly to Rylee. He didn’t take it at first, but she only pushed it closer to him, and he eventually gave in with a muttered thanks.
Uncertain if she would even be able to fall asleep again, Devon rolled back on her side to face the wall where Maul’s saber was tucked into the edge of the thin mattress pad. Carefully, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around the hilt to pull it closer.
It was a little too big for her small hand, but not unmanageable. But as her forefinger traced the vertical siding at the top of the hilt, she yearned for the smooth cover of her own saber. It was Master Daki who recommended she add the non-metal sleeve, back when she was still a very new padawan and the cold metal chilled her fingertips. She of course had crafted it, but the suggestion was one of the first of many she would listen to from her ever-trusted master.
The memory of catching his saber and using it along with her own to deflect both Inquisitors’ blades flashed through her whole body, and Devon’s grip on the miserable, miserable, unfamiliar saber tightened, drawing it closer to her chest, curling in on herself.
When morning broke cold and grey over Corellia, Devon was already outside in the dingy little courtyard that served as their ship’s landing bay at the Crimson Dawn stronghold. It was an unassuming building, one Devon had so far seen very little of, unlike this courtyard. It was small, but designed for ships larger than theirs, especially with the wings flipped up in stasis.
She was momentarily surprised when, after waking and creeping over Rylee and past Two-Boots, to find they’d left the shipyard and returned to the city. But the hum and lift of a ship was downright soothing after many a night spent in grimy alleyways and at cold curbsides or huddled in empty drainage pipes. It wasn’t all that surprising she’d remained asleep for the journey so much as it was odd that Maul obviously didn’t disturb them the entire night.
Along with surprise tests with no spoken rules, in the days spent in limbo, Maul took to encouraging morning training sessions. Sometimes they were against him, practice duels that never failed to frustrate Devon, and sometimes he simply talked her through the forms over and over again, always finding a way for her to improve her footing or quicken her strikes.
This time was the latter. Maul stood with his hands clasped behind his back as he wore circles into the ground as he paced around her, gaze critical as she stepped through a sequence of his choosing. As she was slowly coming to expect, the saber in her hand felt heavy and unwieldy, even with both hands so firmly planted on the hilt. Its electric hum felt almost aggressive, the constant whispers at the back of her mind a dull wall of white noise.
“You are still fighting it, Devon,” Maul was saying as he came into her line of vision again. “The crystal within can feel your reticence, can feel how you hold yourself back.” He shook his head as she spun on her heel only to falter as she swung the blade down, the perfect descending arc wobbling as it stopped a hairsbreadth from the ground. “Did you hesitate when you struck the Jedi killers with this very saber?”
Breathing heavily, Devon shook her head, yanking the saber back up and into a sweeping arc to her left. This one was far steadier, the hilt pausing at chest level, blade a perfect, burning vertical line. “I’m not holding back,” she said, but Maul only waved her off.
“Your very denial is proof of your reluctance.” He paused, glanced at her stance, then continued his circling. “You have already chosen your path, there is no point in dragging out the journey. Now, again, and this time, do not pause until you have finished the entire form.”
It wasn’t until the sun was finally burning off the morning fog that Maul stepped away and Devon returned the saber to her belt. Somehow, even after days of the routine, she always expected him to ask for the saber back. And every day he didn’t, leaving it to itch at her side.
As he turned to leave the courtyard, Devon broke their usual pattern and jogged to catch up with him. Usually, she never followed him into the Dawn’s building, both because he didn’t ask her to and because she had no interest. But today, she fell into step beside Maul, who only shot her a curious look.
“You said we would be leaving today,” she said, still keeping pace with him. The morning air was chilly, and she’d left her vest and headwrap on the ship which she was quickly regretting. “Is that still the plan?”
Maul nodded, making his way down a short, paved path towards a pair of heavily locked doors. “Yes, after I attend to a few matters.”
“The supplies are loaded? Hyperdrive installed?”
Again, a nod, this time paired with a slowing of Maul’s footsteps. “Wouldn’t you prefer to confirm those for yourself?” It was a clear dismissal, but it worked.
Devon lingered only because she didn’t enjoy giving in or agreeing to his suggestions right away. But she did, inevitably, turn on her heel to return to the ship. She could at least fetch her things, as the morning air was starting to feel uncomfortable on her bare lekku and poor, chilly cones.
True to Maul’s word, there were crates of rations, water packs, and other miscellaneous supplies in the cargo hold that held the salvaged hyperdrive the night prior. The cart was still there, now holding a stack of boxes that, judging by the familiar symbol from nights spent in Venator medbays, contained bacta, hopefully both in bandage and gel form. Stacked in a corner was what looked like more credits than they’d ever need, which, while excessive, could be useful. The supplies satisfactory, Devon headed to the cockpit where she confirmed the second necessity. The hyperdrive was listed as online, and when she flicked through the diagnostics, was pleased to see the systems working at prime capacity.
Measurably satisfied, Devon headed to the galley to grab one of the ration bars there instead of breaking into their new reserve stores. She was halfway through it, her feet propped up on one of the crates as she leaned against the bench seat, when Two-Boots appeared in the entryway.
“Good morning, Devon,” he greeted her, ever the picture perfect example of programmed social standards.
“G’morning, Two-Boots,” she greeted in return, watching as he crossed the small space to sit beside her on the bench, hands awkwardly placed in his lap. “Where’s Rylee?”
“Rylee is in the fresher,” Two-Boots answered quickly, nodding once. “I believe he said he needed to deal with his hair.”
Devon blinked. “What does that even mean?”
Unfortunately, the droid just shook his head, photoreceptors blinking. “I do not know, but I am under the impression I was not to interrupt him. But without hair of my own, I cannot guess what he is doing.”
Despite the heavy ache of the previous night and the frustrating as ever training session with Maul, Devon found her lips twitching into a small smile. “I’m with you there,” she said, reaching up to run a hand over her newly adjusted headwrap and down one lek, the tip flicking as her fingertips slid down it. “I guess it’s a Human thing.”
“Indeed,” agreed Two-Boots, blinking once again.
There wasn’t much time to say anything else before Rylee appeared, looking a little sleepy in the tense corners of his eyes and the pinch of his mouth, but his hair did indeed look what Devon was pretty sure could be considered normal. Somehow, she hadn’t noticed that it was noticeably longer, if only by a little bit. Maybe it could get in the way?
Her silent questions were pushed aside as she finished her breakfast, and she left Rylee to his in favor of heading to the cockpit.
One thing she missed most about the war (because there were things to miss, she’d come to learn this) was the frequent chances to fly. Before the war, padawans tended to have their standard flight lessons, plus any airtime they could get out of their masters or from borrowed ships usually found in the temple hangar.
But during the war?
During the war she’d even had her own ship, a brilliant little starfighter she’d kept painted in bright greens and silvers. Her master, to her surprise, had encouraged the decoration. She’d thought he was just humoring her at first, when he said it would be a good soothing technique. But as the years of battle progressed, the nights spent touching up the paint really had been a reliable source of tranquility.
During their time on the run, Devon and her master had a ship of their own only once, and only briefly. The little shuttle had been abandoned for quite some time when they found it on a forgotten little moon base after hitching a ride with a long-haul transport. At first, Master Daki had been so reluctant to take it, but when they found a film of dust over every inch of the ship betraying its disuse, he’d given in.
That little ship kept them safe for five entire standard months, only to meet its end at the hands of smugglers who stole it without giving Devon or her master a chance to fight to get it back.
This new ship was no personal starfighter, and it was no little transport turned temporary home with someone she cared for. But it was still a ship, and while he’d only let her fly it once so far, Maul seemed open to the possibility of letting her back into the pilot seat. This was where she headed, hopping up and sitting cross-legged in the pilot’s seat to wait for their departure.
While Maul hadn’t specified exactly how long he would take, it turned out to be barely more than an hour. By the time Devon was just about ready to go find something more engaging than repeatedly checking the ship’s systems and familiarizing herself with every single switch and control, the distinctive sound of Maul’s mechanical footsteps echoed through the ship. To her surprise, it was actually Rylee who entered the cockpit first, Two-Boots close on his heels.
“There’s not really seating for you guys,” said Devon instead of a greeting, but by the time Rylee realized what she meant, Maul was already in the doorway and blocking his way out. He didn’t step aside to let Rylee by, so Rylee just sat down on the floor against the control panel beside Devon’s seat, and Two-Boots quickly folded himself down as well.
Devon blinked, but she didn’t make any kind of comment, swiveling back to face the forward viewport instead.
“Eager to depart, are we?” Maul spoke as he slid into the copilot’s seat, shooting Devon a pointed look she ignored.
“Are we going, now?”
He tilted his head, delaying his response, but finally nodded. “Yes. Would you like to do the honors?” He gestured to the console, then leaned back in his seat, watching Devon closely.
There were many offers Maul made she refused, but this was not one of them. In fact, Devon found herself beginning to smile as she leaned forward to spark the engine to life, carefully releasing the gravity lock and increasing the thruster power.
“Gently,” Maul suggested, because he could never let her go without some kind of helpful critique. “When you reach orbit, the coordinates should already be available as a key destination.”
Devon nodded, briefly, sparing him only a momentary glance as she focussed on the task at hand.
The ship was larger than she was used to, but when at the controls, she could understand why Maul refused the first available ships in favor of finding a specific model. The body was so steady even as the wings swiveled into their flight positions, the nose rising on a gentle incline as she increased thruster power and pulled the yoke up with care. The climb into the sky and into the atmosphere was smooth, the ship’s rumble a reliable, distant hum that warmed the controls below Devon’s fingers. The correct coordinates were indeed already pre-programmed, and Devon wasted no time as she locked them in and, finally, reached over to engage the hyperdrive.
With a satisfying jolt, the ship leapt into hyperspace.
Finally, they were on their way to Coruscant, and finally, they were taking Rylee home.