Var fidgeted as the lift rose to level 145, steeling herself for the hiss of the sliding doors as excuses ran through her mind. The Rodian had been stoned out of his mind when he escaped by leaping from the top of the Crisoben corporate tower. The Rodian had been tipped off to her approach and fled into traffic - and the path of an oncoming garbage trawl. The Rodian had another enemy who got to him first. The Rodian was simply a terrible pilot and didn't watch where he was going when she pursued him through the cramped city canyons of Denon.

Var sighed and leaned her head back against the transparisteel window. It didn't matter what she told them. The Rodian was dead and she hadn't been able to get the information they wanted on their newest acquisition. Var thought about ordering the lift back down to the lower levels and finding something to cheer her up, just to take the pressure off before the shouting began. Oh, they'd ground her for this. She wouldn't breathe fresh air for a week. It didn't matter what she told them, because they'd believe that they wanted. She should just lie and say she spent her time off Corellia dosing herself with barely legal substances and flirting with anything in possession of a pulse. They wouldn't question that.

Var felt a flicker of anger. She reached out to the keypad to redirect the lift, gloved fingers hovering over the display just as it slowed to a stop. The door opened and a scruffy pilot stepped inside.

"Getting off?" he asked, glancing nervously from her to the control panel. He smelled like sweat and t'bac.

Var fought the urge to roll her eyes. It was the armor. Her mother's old, scratched, blasted, dented armor tended to have a sobering effect on space scum. Maybe the pilot had a thousand credits on his head and he knew enough to spot a hunter, but not enough to keep from vibrating like a fly in a spiderweb. Var considered pulling a blaster on him just to see if he'd foul his pants, but she wasn't in the mood for games.

"Yeah."

The pilot watched her as she moved into the corridor. The lift doors hissed closed, nearly catching the heel of her boot.

Var found the correct docking berth and hesitated at the closed gate. She hated disappointing them, and yet she did it so often. Var felt a smile twist her lips. I'm just the screw-up, she thought. Doing what I do best.

Var punched the door control and walked out on the docking platform. The wind buffeted her hair and threw it across her eyes. She shook it away from her face and stopped, staring at the unfamiliar ship on the docking pad illuminated by blue and gold neon lights. She glanced back at the gate and checked the number.

"Are you one of the crew?" someone shouted.

Var turned towards the approaching dockworker in her logo-marked yellow jumpsuit. She held a datapad in one blackened hand and a droid followed her steps.

"Excuse me?"

"I need someone to authorize payment. Is that your ship?"

"No. Isn't this the Scarlet Flag's dock?"

The dockworker squinted at her, lips pursed.

"The Scarlet Flag," Var repeated. "It should be docked here through the end of the week."

"You mean the ship that blew up over Blue Sector two days ago? 'Fraid that space flotsam won't be needing a dock ever again."

Var blinked. "What?"

"It was all over the newsfeed. Three bystanders were nearly killed by wreckage. Mechanical failure." The dockworker clucked her tongue. "Can't say they weren't asking for it, letting that kid handle the ship repairs. Thought they'd save a few credits instead of hiring a real engineer, I bet. Look what it got them. Blown to flaming star- blessed bits."

Trick, Var thought. Diversion. It had to be. They'll follow emergency protocols and slip me coordinates. Something went seriously wrong if they sacrificed the ship.

"Thanks," she said numbly, and turned back to the gate.

"Hey, I remember you. You were part of the crew, eh?"

Var glanced over her shoulder. "We aren't crew. We're a family."

The dockworker shrugged. "Hate to be the one to tell you, but you haven't got a family anymore."

Var stared at her. "You don't know my family."

--

Her mom's blood was red and hot and slippery. She'd never seen so much of it come out of a person, welling up with each heartbeat. Her shirt stuck to her arms, coated to the elbow. She pressed harder against the wound, but her hands were too small to block the flow completely. Her mother lay still and silent.

"Dad!" she shrieked. "Mom's hurt!"

Don't die, she pleaded, terrified. Don't die, don't die, don't die.

Blasters fired nearby. Someone howled in pain. Rapid footsteps approached and a figure dove over the barrier of rusted metal and abandoned containers, rolling as it hit the ground. A second followed, slashing with a humming sword. Var screamed and grabbed her mother's blaster, fumbling it out of the holster with her slick hands. She recognized her father as the second man with the sword struck at him. Sparks flew. Var held the blaster tight with both hands and pointed it at the attacker, struggling with the weight of the weapon and her own shaking. It looked so easy when she watched them do it. She pulled the trigger but it was stuck. She tried again, whimpering as the metal piece refused to move. Then she remembered the little lever on the side. Her fingers were too short to reach it.

Var tucked the blaster against her chest and scrabbled at the safety, willing herself not to cry as metal crashed and someone cursed. The part moved with a sharp click. She took the blaster with both hands and felt the trigger with the tip of her finger. She held her breath but she still quivered with each heartbeat. She aimed. Her father parried a vibrosword strike with a piece of scrap metal and lunged for a rusted rod sticking out of the debris pile. The attacker pulled his blade back to strike and Var jerked the trigger, wincing at the sudden noise and the flash of light. The shot went wide, sparking harmlessly against the dead shell of an abandoned GNK droid. The man looked over his shoulder at her and swore. Var bit her lip and pulled the trigger again, forcing the attacker to duck. He snarled.

"Run! Var, run!" her father shouted, yanking the metal bar free from the scrap. The attacker ignored him and moved towards her, picking up speed with each step.

The bottom dropped out of Var's stomach as she stared at the man charging her. She heard three blaster shots, saw the flashes of light and watched the blasts miss his leg but strike his chest and neck. The man collapsed and his sword skittered across the broken ferrocrete. Var smelled charred flesh and watched smoke drift up from the man she had shot.

"Dad?" she squeaked. Her vision buckled and warped as her eyes filled with tears. A dark shape approached, limping, and her father's large hands wrapped around hers. She heard the safety snap into place.

"You can put the blaster down now. You did good kiddo, but when I tell you to run, you should run."

Var turned and hugged her father tight as the tears rolled down her face. "I didn't want to. I was too scared."

Vica ruffled her hair. "Don't make a habit of disobeying orders, hey?" The fine strands stuck to the blood on his hands. "Are you hurt?"

"No. Mom is." She looked at her mother's body over her father's shoulder and saw the crimson pool spreading from the deep thigh wound. Guilt lumped under her breastbone as she realized she should have been working to stop the bleeding.

Vica took her shoulders and pushed her aside gently. He reached for the small medpac at the back of his belt and knelt beside his wife. Var's throat constricted into a hard lump as she watched him work. It hurt to breathe. The blaster hung like a cold, dead weight from her arm.

"Is she going to die?" Var asked, sounding shrill and frightened. "I tried to stop the bleeding and I couldn't. I'm sorry."

Vica looked at her and flashed a quick smile. "Your mother isn't going to die. She just took a nasty wound and lost some blood. Nothing we can't fix. It's going to be okay, Var."

Var nearly collapsed with relief, but she looked down at her stained hands and couldn't help feeling that something had just gone terribly wrong. She shook her head. "It's not okay. What if you weren't here? What if you didn't come back?"

Vica gripped her shoulder. "Listen to me. Whatever happens, I will always come back. Your mother and I will always keep you safe. Don't worry."

She wanted to believe him. Var looked into her father's shiny, red rimmed eyes and saw fear. He was lying to her, and he knew it. Someday he wouldn't come back. Someday mom would be dead and she would be left alone. Var ducked her head. She scrubbed tears from her eyes, forgetting that her cuffs were soaked with blood. The smell made her want to puke.

Ura stirred. She raised her head an inch and let it fall back to the pavement, groaning. "Don't tell me all that red is mine."

"You've sprung a leak, dear."

"Vica, I don't think they bought our disguise."

He snorted. "There's an understatement."

Ura looked over at Var and extended her hand, gesturing for her to come closer. "Sweetie, what are you doing with mommy's blaster?"

Var handed over the weapon, tacky with blood, and knelt beside her mother. Ura pulled her close.

"She needs work on her aim," Vica noted neutrally.

"She's seven. Even my mother didn't give me a blaster until I was ten. And ow, black stars, either quit shoving things in my leg or give me more anesthetic."

"Quit squirming. She pulled a blaster in combat. She's old enough to learn how to shoot. She may not have time for five shots in the future."

Ura frowned and was quiet for a moment. "Vica, if we're going to have another one, we need to be more careful about our acquisitions."

Var saw her father give her mother a blank look of shock. "We're having another one?"

--

Var checked the communication screen on the Deaf Pedestrian for what seemed like the tenth time in as many minutes. Nothing. The last message was three days old.

She tapped the armrests of the pilot's seat irritably while probable scenarios flitted through her head. They could be in deep cover. They could be held against their will. They could be injured. Or they could be dead. The smartest thing to do was to stay in one spot and wait for contact.

Var felt her stomach knot. Maybe today was the day nobody came back.

Var shoved herself out of the chair and made her way through the cramped interior to the main hatch. She checked both blasters, slung a light pack over one shoulder and grabbed her helmet. She pulled it over her head while the hatch opened and walked out into the garish Coronet night.

Dika's Place was a hole in the wall off the south subway line, on the edge of Blue Sector. The holographic sign flickered in nauseating patterns, barely illuminating the barred panels marked by overlapping graffiti and streaked with filth. It always looked like the place was one day away from being closed by the sanitation board. Var knew the third panel from the left was the door. It slid aside with a squeal and she walked into the dimly lit interior, trusting her memories to keep her from bumping into a table. Dika found it comforting to emulate the lighting of her native Selonian tunnels. Var stood in the entry for a few moments, adjusting to the darkness. Eyes and armor gleamed in the shadows, reflecting the amber glow panel set into each table. A thousand pieces of information traded hands in the dark, from hunter to hunted and back again.

Claws clicked on her armor and she found herself yanked from the entry, dragged to the back by a furred figure that towered over her by a head. Var stumbled but stayed on her feet as she was shoved into the corridor leading to the kitchen. The curtain skittered shut behind her and she looked up into Dika's bright eyes and quivering whiskers.

"Ura! Ura, you should be more careful, coming here. When I heard what he did to the ship, I thought -"

Var pulled off her helmet. "It's Var, Dika."

"Oh," said the Selonian. She lowered on her haunches. "Var. And your parents?"

Var shook her head. "I was offworld when it happened. I need information."

Dika blinked. "Then they are dead?"

"I've had no contact. I don't know. What happened, Dika?"

Brown fur rippled. "You should get off Corellia, Var. Pick a planet and stay there. If I see them I'll pass along a message."

Var clenched her jaw. "But you said, 'When I heard what he did to the ship'. Who did what to the ship?"

"I misspoke." The Selonian looked away.

"I don't think so." Var shifted her hand to her blaster. "What happened to the Scarlet Flag wasn't an accident. It wasn't a mechanical failure. Rel knew that ship like it was a pet. The squirt's insufferable but she can keep a ship flying."

"Var, calm down."

"Calm down? My family could be dead, and you know something."

Dika sighed, whiskers trembling. "If I talk, you will go after the person who did this?"

"Absolutely. I'll take the di'kut out."

"Then I will not say."

Var gaped at the Selonian. "I thought you were my parent's friend."

Dika touched her should gently. "I was, Var."

She shook off the paw. "No. No, not 'was'."

"It has been two days without word. I knew they would be foolish to contact me in the open, but if you have not heard from them, then perhaps it is time to accept the worst."

"They could be hiding. They could be hurt."

"Your parents made enemies in their time. It was their life. Perhaps it was fated that they would make an enemy they could not overcome. It is no shame to accept that."

Var stared at the Selonian's somber face and felt herself grow cold. "Don't you dare lecture me about my parents. I always knew there would be a day when they wouldn't come back. But I won't give up on them as easy as you."

"Var -"

"No! Tell me who did this, Dika."

"He will kill you if he knows you are alive. He believes all the Theslins are dead. Let it be so. Leave Corellia. Run. You know how to disappear."

"And let that osik go free? Kark on you, Dika. Nobody does this to my family and gets away with it."

"Var, listen. He has too many resources. You, by yourself - you have no chance."

"I don't care!" Var snapped. "If you were their friend you would tell me who did this."

Dika looked away. "It is because I was their friend that I will not send their child to slaughter. You are reckless, Var. Vengence will be your death. Let it go. Your parents would not want you killed as well."

"Frack that. I'm going to hell anyway. I'll take him with me." She pulled on her helmet. "If you won't tell me, I'll find someone who will."

--

The sun glared from between clouds when she made her way back to the Deaf Pedestrian's dock with a name buzzing between her ears. Drell Gor'vdon. Leader of a smuggling ring. A 75,000 credit bounty. The man who was bragging about blowing the Theslin family out of the sky.

Var balanced herself against the bulkhead as she undid the fastenings on her mother's old armor and let it drop to the deck. She couldn't remember exactly how many dives she had visited or drinks it had taken, but her head was beginning to throb. She undressed, cursing as she nearly tripped on the armor. She hucked her clothing towards the back of the ship and then realized she'd forgotten to darken the transparisteel viewports. Var made a rude gesture to the leering techies outside and slapped the controls. She sighed in the darkness and was about to roll into her bunk when she saw the flashing green light on the console. Var frowned at it. It hurt her eyes. Why had she set an alert? Was it important?

Var stumbled forward, hit her head against the overhead controls and fell into the pilot's chair. She cursed, feeling her temple for blood as she pulled up the communications screen. One message. Text only. Two very innocuous lines. Var forgot her pain and smiled. Sometimes she wondered what it was like to grow up in a normal family, where nobody planned for kidnappings, firefights, life threatening injuries or sabotage. She imagined most children weren't required to learn an emergency code language, combat hand signals and vocal commands before their tenth birthday. What did they do instead?

It took her a few minutes of squinting and tortured thinking to pick out the bits of code and decipher the message. Coordinates and time. She looked at the chrono and groaned. Three hours from now. Everyone in her family had the worst sense of timing.

--

Var hurried through the drizzle, hunched beneath her hooded wool poncho, sidestepping vendors and gawking customers clogging the streets of Treasure Ship Row. She reached the intersection and stopped, rubbing sleep from her eyes before checking the damp scrap of paper in her hand. This was it. Var chewed the inside of her lip and began to make a lazy circle of the area, pretending to be interested in the merchandise. She looked for someone she recognized in the sea of multicolored faces.

Please be here. I know I'm late. Please don't have given up on me.

She hugged her arms against her chest, feeling like her heart was going to jump out of her ribcage. The smells of food reminded her that she hadn't eaten anything solid since the day before, but she was too nervous to be hungry.

I'm sorry about the Rodian. You were right; I shouldn't have gone. I shouldn't have pushed for a solo mission. Maybe if I'd stayed the Scarlet Flag would be in one piece. I know I've lied before but I mean it this time. I promise I'll be on better behavior. Just don't be dead. I don't want to be alone. I won't know what to do, if I'm alone.

Var turned away from a table littered with droid parts and saw a short dark blur dart out of the crowd and tackle her, knocking her back a step. What a shitty pickpocket, she thought, and tried to shove the figure away. The thin, strong arms would not let go.

"Var!" her assailant cried in a familiar voice, and she recognized the dirty, rumpled jacket and the curve of one cheek.

"Rel?"

Her little sister buried her face in the wool folds and sobbed. Var stared down at the thirteen year old girl clinging to her torso, aware that she ought to do something comforting. She wrapped her arms around Rel awkwardly to shield her from the rain and searched the crowd around them, desperate for a glimpse of her mother's braids or her father's grey armor.

"I didn't think anyone was coming," Rel whispered.

Var mumbled something and continued to watch the people shuffle past. Surely their parents would follow Rel here any moment, and then she could break free. Any moment. Rel said something but Var didn't pay attention.

Any moment, they'd walk around the corner.

Any moment.

Var blinked away the drops clinging to her eyelashes as the slow flood of reality washed away her surface thoughts. Rel was the one who followed emergency protocols and sent the message. Var stared into the mass of strangers and felt herself grow cool and numb. Three days since the sabotage. They weren't coming. Her parents were dead.

Rel shivered in her arms. "I should have known something was wrong. I ran the diagnostics. I should never have let them take the ship."

Var heard the shock in her sister's voice; the horror and the guilt as the girl struggled under the burden of fault that wasn't hers. Var felt a hot stab of envy, even now. Especially now. Rel would always be their best-loved, special, blameless, and Var resented her for that. Nothing ever went wrong for Rel. Some small, poisoned part of her wanted to damage Rel, just to put some tarnish on that sterling record. It would be so easy to let Rel live with the Scarlet Flag's mechanical failure on her conscience. Let her bear the burden for once and spend the rest of her life drowning in self-doubt. Var knew what that felt like.

Her throat tightened with shame. What was wrong with her? No. Frack, no. Rel didn't deserve that, not even for the crime of being smarter and not failing at life.

Var opened her mouth to tell Rel about Dross Gor'vdon's sabotage and erase her blame, but she remembered Dika's parting words. It is because I was their friend that I would not send their child to slaughter.

Dika was right, Var realized. If she told Rel about Gor'vdon then her sister would be unable to let go of their parent's deaths. There would be no rest. She'd want revenge, same as Var, but it wasn't right. The idea of putting Rel in combat made Var sick. Dad made sure Rel was a good shot with a blaster - even as the youngest Theslin she was far from helpless - but there was a big difference between firing at a holotarget, firing on someone in defense and pulling the trigger as an executioner. Var would not make Rel into a killer.

Can't tell her, Var thought, trapped between relief and guilt. Not because she can't handle it, but because I can't. She's going to hate me for this when she figures it out. Maybe she's entitled to know. I don't give a frack. The squirt can hate me all she wants, as long as she's safe.

Var remembered the feel of blood on her hands and the look on her father's face that betrayed his lies. She'd always been angry with him for failing to shield her from the cold truth. There was no safety. There was no happy ending to look forward to, no sunset to fly into, no bright future. Just a mistake, and spilled blood, and a loved one gone. She'd been waiting for it ever since, and here it was, standing in her doorway.

Thank the stars I'm a better liar than you were, dad. I can fix this for her.

Var swallowed to clear her throat, conscious of the long seconds that had passed. "It was an accident. You knew that ship better than anyone, Rel. It wasn't your fault."

"But I was resp-"

"No, Rel," Var said, with an edge of steel in her tone. "Stop thinking like that. It was an accident."

She felt Rel struggle with the knowledge, hunching her shoulders. Fighting it. Var disengaged herself and dropped to her heels with a sigh. Her sister looked miserable, damp and red-eyed. Var tugged at the corner of Rel's jacket. "Listen to me, hey? Don't you blame yourself for this. Don't you dare. Sometimes bad things happen and nobody could have seen them coming. No one is at fault for what happened to mom and dad," Var lied. "It's just stupid, random bad luck. I know they wouldn't want you to beat yourself up about this. They'd be glad you survived."

Rel shifted in place and ducked her chin. "But -"

"No. You stop it. Right now." Var touched her cheek. "Say it. Say, 'It wasn't my fault.'"

Rel took a shaky breath, and another. "It wasn't my fault," she said softly.

"Now look at me and tell me again, because I didn't believe you that time."

Rel's jaw tightened, but she met Var's eyes. "It wasn't my fault."

Var nodded. "Damn right it wasn't. Don't you think anything else." She squinted up at the grey sky and stood. She ruffled Rel's hair. The squirt hated that. "Let's get back to the Pedestrian. I'm glad you got in contact. The throttle control is sticking again."

Rel shied out of range and tried to put her hair back in order. She studied Var for a moment. "You have to recalibrate it manually. I showed you how."

Var shrugged and began to lead the way back to the docking yard. "Yeah, well, it works better when you do it. You know I can't keep all that stuff straight. I froze it solid the last time I tried, remember? Mom and dad had to fly you out to fix it."

Rel wiped her nose on the sleeve of her jacket. "I can't believe they're gone."

Var sensed the void where her parents had been. It was going to hurt like hell sometime in the future, she knew, but for now she was in one piece and that was all that mattered. Whoever this Gor'vdon guy was, she was going make him pay.

"I know."

-- Var flicked through the contacts listed on her red datapad, barely seeing the names and faces - a list filtered for references to Dross Gor'vdon from her parent's database. She rubbed her eyes and tried to concentrate, but she was exhausted. Too much liquor, too little sleep, too little real food. She could feel a headache tightening around the base of her skull.

The 'fresher door opened with a click and she heard Rel pad up the center aisle. Var turned off the datapad and looked over her shoulder.

Rel dangled a collection of black straps and rubber from one finger. "What's this?"

Var snatched it and balled it in her hands, hoping Rel didn't see her face flush. "Haven't I told you a thousand times not to touch my stuff? It's called privacy, squirt."

"Your private stuff is all over my bunk, and the floor. I found that in the shower."

Var stuffed the bundle beneath the pilot's chair. "Just shove it off to the side until I get a chance to clean it up. But don't pay attention to anything, okay?"

Rel gave her an arch look.

Here it comes, Var grumbled to herself. Little miss genius is going to edjumacate her retarded sister on how to tidy her room. I am going to lock her in the 'fresher and see how she likes sleeping standing up.

Rel rolled up the sleeves of her borrowed shirt and slid into the co- pilot's chair without a word. She punched up the Deaf Pedestrian's computer and began to navigate through diagnostic screens. Var watched her work for a moment and then reactivated her datapad. She began to search through old mission notes, thankful for her dad's insistence on organized records. Several files were flagged with references to Gor'vdon.

"Who is this guy? He has a lot of tattoos," Rel remarked. Var looked up at the holoprint Rel held out to her.

"Where did you find that?"

"In the equipment compartment." Rel twisted the next print to an odd angle. "Oh, it's you. That's a lot of makeup. You look, um ... Is that Twi'lek wearing any clothes?"

Var extended her arm towards her sister. "Hand them over. Right now."

"Why?"

Var lunged over the armrest and grabbed the holoprints before Rel could flip to the next one. "Because I said so." She shoved the prints under the pilot's chair. "Rel, could you just not look at anything, or touch anything?"

"It's not my fault they were in the equipment compartment. That's a pretty dumb place to hide something."

Var's eyes narrowed. "Why don't you go in the back and play dolls instead. I probably have one around here somewhere."

"No thanks," Rel muttered. "I don't know where your doll has been."

Var glared at Rel. Rel glared at Var.

"Just fix the throttle control, okay?" Var ordered. "I'm trying to work on something."

"What are you doing?"

"Playing Tetron," Var lied. "You're ruining my score."

Rel's mouth pinched and she turned back to the open equipment panel. Var thought about apologizing, but didn't. She tried to focus on reading the mission notes as Rel fiddled with the controls, but her concentration wandered.

"Var, what are we going to do?" Rel asked.

"Sleep. I'm exhausted."

"But what about after that?"

"What, breakfast?"

"No, I mean ..." Rel gestured helplessly. "What are we going to do without mom and dad?"

Var blinked. Step one, kill Gor'vdon. Step two ... "I don't know."

"Well, are we going to hunt bounties ourselves?"

Var's mind blanked. She'd never considered the reality of what happened after her parents died. She'd never thought that far ahead. Now she would have to get the intel and plan the hunts, do all the maintenance, keep up with all the forms and permits. Then there was the squirt to take care of. Rel had education requirements and SAGroup and there was no way in dar'yaim Var was going to let her tag along on hunts.

What am I going to do? Var thought, feeling her stomach knot. I couldn't even retrieve the damn Rodian and now I have to support both of us by myself. I don't know how to do anything else. She suddenly felt very alone without the aid of her father's technical expertise and her mother's talent for strategy. She was one part of a three person team, and sadly, not the part that was expected to think for herself.

I am so fracked. I am fracked beyond the understanding of known science.

"Var?"

And Rel's fracked too, because I am a stupid failure. Why don't I just take a blaster and shoot us both in the head?

"Var, are you okay?"

"Just thinking."

Rel waited expectantly.

"Damn it, Rel, quit looking at me like that." Var got up out of her chair and brushed past her sister, stalking down the narrow corridor that ran the length of the Pedestrian.

"I was wondering -"

Var pivoted. "Yeah? Well, don't. I asked you to fix the fracking throttle control, larva, not use your tremendous brain to solve the problems of the galaxy."

"But I just wanted -"

"I don't know, okay? I have no blasted idea. Is that what you wanted to hear? Mom and dad got fragged and they didn't leave me instructions. But I am sure if they had, they would have told you to SHUT UP."

Rel stood very still, a small figure in borrowed clothes with dark smudges beneath her eyes. The Deaf Pedestrian seemed awfully quiet, except for the whirr of the air circulation fan.

Her heart hurt. "I have to go," Var muttered. She grabbed her poncho from the bed and headed for the hatch. "Just go to sleep. I'll be back later."

Two Dalyrake Venoms later, and a third in her hand, Var forgot she felt like crying.

I don't know what to do, but if I could just relax I would be able to figure it out -

Hey, he's kind of cute.

--

It came in over the holofeed shortly after the Theslin pair had settled into living together on the Deaf Pedestrian. A short sound file that Rel listened to for a second time while she looked over the several certificates and receipts that made up the effects of their parent's will. Memories of weeks before when she had identified her parents remains and begun the systematic process of death in the Empire.

"Well girls, this is likely a bad time, but your father is the eternal bureaucrat and made up a little file, set to trigger based on my death certificate being filed. I'm being optimistic and hoping that I'm talking to both of you, rather then think whatever mess we got ourselves into took more then Ura and I. Well firstly I'm just going to say sorry. I'd never intend to leave you alone when you're both so young. But we knew the life we chose, it's dangers and how much it beat moisture farming. I'd like to say we've a well padded account that can leave you both living happily, but you both know how close we scraped by sometimes. The Flag and The Pedestrian are yours. Paid for in full and under permit for another four years. If all my little triggers went correctly, they've both been transferred under ownership to you, Var. I did what I could to make it so you wouldn't have to worry about anything. Your mom would say something but she'd kill me if she knew I made these... bad luck, she says. I probably should listen to her. You two take care of each other, but if it gets too much... I still keep up with my brother, Larjin. He promised back when you were born, Rel, he'd be there to help. The signal code I used is under file Epsilon 144-18. Remember girls, I always have faith in you."

Rel felt the lump in her throat as she heard her father's voice, curt, professional, only the slimmest amount of sentimental nonsense as he simply gave a brief, and a blunt goodbye.

She glanced a moment at the hatch, wondering for the hundredth time how long until Var would get back. She hadn't taken it well. She hid it in front of Rel but spent days out and in trouble. She was thinking a day at a time and would cut through what savings they had been left in less then a month. That's what the last part of the message was: In case you two can't handle it, go find my brother, be taken care of. Give up.

Rel felt a sudden moment of what life must be like as Var as she deleted the sound file, sorted all the permits and certificates, and transfered Epsilon 144-18 to her Datapad from the ship's computer, covering her tracks out of habit rather then real expectation of Var's searching. I know you have faith in us, dad. I just need to get Var to have faith in us too. And she won't do that if she knows there's a relative to latch onto, leech off of.

--

The next few days blurred together, like ice melting at the bottom of a glass. Sometimes she woke up on the Pedestrian, sometimes not, sometimes alone, sometimes not, and she struggled to clean herself up so she could start all over again. She met contacts in bars and alleys, streets and lounges, but results were always the same. No one knew Gor'vdon's base of operations. No one knew his location. Var began to understand why her parents had such difficulty bagging him. He was a ghost.

But it was Rel who haunted her, quiet and disapproving, who left her food and clean clothes and picked up her messes. It hurt to be near her. Var drank to forget her guilt and to stop thinking about the future. All that mattered was finding Gor'vdon.

During her moments of sobriety, Var began to suspect deep down that something was very wrong. Mom and dad weren't there to drag her home and let her dry out in the closet that served as a brig. The cycle was becoming a spiral and Var wondered when and how it would end.

Just finish the op, she told herself. Once he's dead I can stop and things will be better.

She wondered when she started believing her own lies.

--

"I said, if it were my parents that this guy killed, I'd do a lot worse than vape his sorry skull."

Var giggled. "That's silly. You can't do worse than kill someone."

"Sure you can."

"Please. What's worse than death?"

Her bedmate, whose name she had already forgotten, Vich or Mich or something, narrowed his eyes. "Public humiliation."

Var spasmed with laughter, nearly hitting her head against the wall. "So I go after him with a cream pie, and then kill him?"

Mich rolled his eyes. "Your brain is pickled. Look, death is over in a few seconds. Humiliation lasts for years after that."

Var's giggles trailed off as Mich moved on to more interesting activities. She looked at the darkened ceiling and felt the thoughts roll around in her head like marbles. Humiliation, indeed. What could she do to humiliate the head of a smuggling ring, when she couldn't even nail down his location?

Oh. OH!

She tapped Mich on the back to get his attention. "Hey, you're right."

"What?"

"Public humiliation. Now get off me."

"You're not serious. Now? But -"

Var got a hold of Mich's earlobe and pulled. "I said, get off."

Mich protested but rolled aside. She slid off the bed and began to collect her clothing.

"You're drunk," he remarked, watching her try to get into her pants. "Sober up first."

"You sound like my sister."

"I thought you said your sister died of brain cancer."

"I wish," Var muttered under her breath. She looked for her bra, shrugged, and reached for her shirt. "No, if I wait I'll forget. It has to be now."

"Whatever you say. You'll regret it."

Var swayed as she began to buckle on her armor. "Oh no, I don't think so. This is going to be good."

--

"I'm sorry, Miss Theslin, but the contract is only if you can launch in the next hour. I need an escort for my freighter now, not tonight. The cargo is perishable and I only have a leeway of minutes."

Rel kept her face even as she looked into the holofeed at the Smuggler sitting in his own cockpit half a city away.

Half her mind was cycling through the different varieties of illegal cargo that were perishable to such a description while the other half cycled through the collection of dive bars Var was likely assaulting.

"I understand your position, Mister Stark, but my pilot is currently under medical hold until they clear her for possible infection. It shouldn't delay us, but you know how Imperial red tape can be when involving possible infections." An image of a slightly older woman mouthed the words on another screen, the picture that was being broadcasted and the 'Miss Theslin' the Smuggler thought he was talking to.

"You have my sympathies, ma'am. but if you can't fulfill your part of the contract then I'll have to find another ship."

"Sir, we both know how difficult it can be to hire a combat capable escort on short notice. Just give me a little more time to try and get my pilot cleared before you cancel on us."

"I'll give you half an hour, Miss Theslin. I hope for both our sakes that your pilot is cleared, or you find another one." The image of the smuggler switched off and Rel groaned her annoyance.

She tried to send a call to Var's commlink but the signal came back that she had locked, not receiving calls. Traditionally that translated to 'Bug off, squirt', but these days it might be the standard setting. Rel pondered a moment. She knew she could hack into the commlink and unlock it. It would mean she could get Var, they'd have the job, and everything would be roses. It also meant that the next time Var wanted to be alone she'd simply leave the Commlink behind.

This would make twice Rel set up a job that Var completely ignored.

With a dejected sigh Rel threw on her jacket and made her way out, hoping that Var had the sense to stay at something close to the spaceport.

The worst part was knowing that she couldn't even whine about losing the job to Var. She'd only get miffed that Rel was setting things up without her, rant for a minute about Rel not knowing the first thing about setting up an Op and it'd end being Rel's fault.

--

Next part is currently on hold, but it's really really good.