A Living Nightmare

  Chapter 23: Expensive Exposition

  “An alliance formed from necessity is nothing without truth to bind it together.”

  Location: Nigiri - Botrowali Flats

  Vos’la Kaa started wiping crystal dust from their gloved hands, taking in what I had just said. The howling winds only seemed to grow louder, echoing off the jagged terrain. Above us, dark clouds were beginning to swirl, thickening into a rolling mass that promised another cascade of crystallized rain. The storm was coming, the air thick with that electric tension that precedes something vicious. And yet, here we were, standing around as if the world wasn't about to try and tear itself apart.

  Vos’la’s presence was a jittery flicker against the harsh landscape, their curiosity laced with caution. But there was excitement too, barely buried under a layer of professionalism.

  “So, a high and mighty Inquisitor offers backwater bounty hunter work. That’s new,” Vos’la said, their helmeted gaze lingering on me. "My reputation precedes me then!" The attempt at bravado didn’t quite cover the underlying tepidness I could feel leaking through their presence. The calm they showed earlier was oozing off rather quickly after seeing the small display of power I conjured in their defense.

  “Not exactly.” I replied, letting the words fall with deliberate punctuality. “Call it a happy coincidence.”

  “I'd call it happy, saving my armor from needing a fresh coat of paint!” Vos’la chuckled, the sound thick with amusement, though it felt like they were trying too hard to sound casual. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’s the job?”

  “We’re looking for someone. Goes by the name of Arnev.” I didn’t bother elaborating on who or why. Better to see how the hunter would react first.

  Vos’la’s head tilted slightly. "Arnev? Doesn’t ring a bell. But if they’re mixed up in some illegal business, I can find 'em for you. For the right price, of course.”

  “That’s why I’m...asking.” I kept my tone even, the weight of the statement carried by the implication that I wasn’t asking at all.

  “Huh.” Vos’la’s tone shifted from curiosity to calculation. “You and the trooper looking to drag ‘em back in chains, or just put a hole through their skull?”

  “Not for you to know, but I just need them found,” I replied smoothly. “Whether they’re brought back alive or dead depends on how good of a job you do.” I'd rather not explain the part of needing them tortured and interrogated for a hopeful tidbit of information.

  Hal crossed his arms, trying to keep his fingers from twitching near the E-11's holster flap at his hip. Despite being a good enough soldier, he couldn’t keep himself from fidgeting, his unease prickling in the air like static. “So you know something, or are you just playing us for fools?”

  Vos’la’s head swiveled slightly to regard Hal. “Relax, trooper. I ain’t playin’ anybody. Just saying, what you’re asking for is gonna put me in a whole heap of trouble if things go south.”

  “Then make sure things don’t go south.” I replied, leaning forward slightly. “I can make it worth your while. Credits. Favors. Whatever you want.”

  “Credits, huh? Now you’re speaking my language.” Vos’la’s tone held a faint chuckle, a little too eager to sound convincing. “Fifty thousand up front. Another fifty when the job’s done.”

  “Fair.” I didn’t hesitate. It wasn't my credits going down the drain here. “But understand this. If you even think of trying to double-cross me—”

  Vos’la laughed, but it sounded forced, almost nervous. “Now, now. No need to go gettin’ all dramatic. Just business, that’s all. And I prefer to keep my skin intact, thank you very much.”

  “Good.” I offered a curt nod, my tone sharpening. "So, how do you plan to go about finding them?"

  “Hold your hounds there mister. Got ta let me I finish my current job,” Vos’la replied, nodding toward the unconscious Kabuu still slumped on the jagged ground. “But hey, you’re welcome to tag along. If you’re offering credits, I’m sure you can cover a few drinks.”

  "That's not par—" Hal began, his voice strained with irritation. I cut him off before his temper could flare any higher.

  “Lead the way,” I said with a touch of feigned cheerfulness, trying to take the edge off Hal’s frustration. "I'm actually pretty parched. Thought bounty hunters knew the best places to find a good drink."

  I switched over to the internal comm frequency we shared, my voice cutting directly into his helmet’s audio. "Relax, Captain. They can help. And I haven't had anything to drink in two days."

  Hal’s voice crackled through the comm, his tone rushed and apologetic. "Kriff. Right, sorry, sir."

  Vos’la turned toward the darkened entrance, boots crunching against the crystal-laden ground. They reached down to grab Kabuu’s unconscious body, their fingers fumbling slightly before they found their grip. “Might take a minute. Ain’t easy dragging dead weight.”

  I couldn’t help but smirk at their excited tone as they hummed and whistled to themselves while adjusting Kabuu’s position made something very clear. It took them several tries to finally get their bounty slung around their shoulders. They were pretty new to this.

  And here I was, about to trust a novice bounty hunter with a mission critical to my search.

  Maybe this was a mistake.

  Location: Nigiri - Darpro City

  The entrance to Darpro City gaped like the open maw of some terrible beast, a crude structure made of reinforced durasteel and rusted metal plates that creaked with the slightest movement. We moved forward, the darkness of the underground city swallowing us whole.

  Even with the new armor fitted snugly around my body, I could feel the air grow thick and rancid, like the place itself was slowly rotting from within. The tunnel walls were damp, streaked with mold and grime that had long since made itself at home. Echoes of distant shouting, the clanking of machinery, and the shuffle of countless feet spilled over us.

  Hal walked at my side, his eyes never staying in one place for long, his vigilance sharpened, eyes constantly scanning the crowded, filthy maze. Vos’la led the way, Kabuu slung awkwardly over their shoulders, the occasional grunt escaping their modulated voice as they maneuvered through the crowd.

  Darpro City was a mining town, built in layers beneath the ground’s surface like some burrowed insect hive. Makeshift buildings had been welded together from ship scrap and durasteel plates, their jagged edges and asymmetrical construction an affront to architectural standards. Narrow corridors wound between the hastily erected structures, each of them filled with bodies moving from one transaction to the next.

  “Looks like rush hour,” Vos’la said cheerfully, their voice a little too loud over the background noise. “You two ever been down here before?”

  “No.” I kept my answer short, my attention divided between keeping pace and avoiding the swarms of people that bumped and jostled us with every step. The throng felt suffocating, like the entire city was pressing down on us. I could sense every desperate, fearful, and hostile mind packed into this wretched labyrinth.

  “Kriff,” Hal muttered, his voice muffled by his helmet. “Doesn’t anyone down here understand personal space?”

  “Relax, trooper,” Vos’la called back over their shoulder. “Just stick close, and try not to look like you’re ready to shoot the first person who steps on your toes. You might make someone nervous.”

  Hal grumbled something unintelligible, his hand never straying far from his blaster’s holster. As we pushed deeper into the claustrophobic maze, the world around us unfolded in chaotic detail. Rows of scrap-made cube houses were stacked atop each other like rusted playing cards, interconnected by rickety walkways suspended high above the churning crowds. Makeshift market stalls were crammed into every available space, selling anything from repurposed droid parts to bubbling concoctions that smelled like boiled death.

  Signs flickered with erratic neon glows, displaying alien scripts mixed with Basic, their lettering warped and half-burned from years of neglect. The air was thick with scents of sweat, burning metal, and a cloying sweetness that hinted at chemical intoxicants drifting lazily through the ventilation shafts.

  As we moved further into the city, I extended my senses, letting the Force carry me along the erratic, messy flow of life. The echoes of conversations tangled together, overlapping like waves breaking against jagged rocks. Weariness clung to miners as they shuffled toward a rattling elevator nearby, the end of their shift leaving them hollowed and dulled. Fear bled from a cramped alleyway where two thugs pinned down a screaming victim, their desperation rising in sharp, frantic stabs through the air.

  Other emotions clawed at me—lust, anger, greed. It was like trying to peer through a sandstorm, but I pushed through, letting it all wash over me, feeling the life of this city gnaw at itself just to keep going.

  Darpro City was as much a junkyard as it was a settlement. And yet, the people here thrived. A twisted sense of community bound them together, held aloft by greed, desperation, and the occasional genuine camaraderie.

  Vos’la kept moving with an energy that felt both enthusiastic and anxious, like a child let loose in a dangerous playground. “Watch your step! Ain’t no one gonna help you if you take a fall down one of these chasms.”

  I let the Force guide my movements more than my own senses, keeping me balanced and sure-footed even as the crowd threatened to knock me off course. Hal was a few paces behind, his sharp gaze cataloging every suspicious glance and twitch of a stranger’s hand.

  "Stay close," Hal said, his voice a low rumble. "Place like this, someone could gut you and no one would notice."

  The remark had the unintended effect of making me smirk. "Is that concern I’m hearing, Hal? I’m touched."

  "Call it common sense," he shot back, though his tone wasn’t entirely without humor.

  Even Vos’la seemed to pick up on the exchange, offering a modulated chuckle. "You know," Vos’la said with a casual tone, "someone probably just got stabbed a dozen times in that alley over there. Common sense ain't really common down here." The hunter adjusted the unconscious Kabuu on their shoulder, the effort taking two attempts before they got it right. "Come on, the bar’s just ahead. Maybe a drink will make ya feel better about trudging through the underbelly of this dump."

  "You're still lugging Kabuu around," I noted, tilting my head toward the unconscious form draped awkwardly over Vos’la’s shoulder. "Thought you'd want to cash in sooner rather than later."

  Vos’la chuckled, the sound crackling through their modulator. "Yeah, yeah. Was gonna bring that up. Bounty Guild Office ain’t too far. Just a quick detour, then I’ll meet you at the bar." They jerked their head toward a side path that split off from the main thoroughfare. "Place called the Broken Blurtide. Can’t miss it."

  “Sounds charming.” I gave a nod. "We’ll see you there."

  Vos’la hesitated, almost as if they were considering saying something more before turning on their heel and trudging off with their prize, humming some old spacer’s tune with an unearned sense of confidence. I wondered if they even noticed how much they fumbled carrying Kabuu, or if they just didn’t care.

  "Should we even bother waiting?" Hal muttered. "Feels like a waste of time."

  "They're useful," I said simply. "And if they're not, we'll know soon enough."

  We continued toward the bar, pushing through the tightly-packed crowds until the entrance to the Broken Blaster loomed before us. The place was dug into the rock itself, its fa?ade cobbled together from mismatched metal panels welded crudely into place. Faint flickers of neon light bled from the cracks, buzzing and sputtering from poor maintenance.

  The moment we stepped inside, the assault on the senses intensified. The air was a cocktail of stale alcohol, sweat, and something sickly sweet meant to mask the underlying rot. Holovids played on several suspended screens, each blaring different broadcasts of various forms of entertainment.

  I immediately caught the roaring cheers of podracing commentators as engines screeched and clashed through some desert course. Another screen displayed a pit fight, with two heavily augmented combatants tearing into each other with savage intensity. And another was some sort of gambling event, the details lost in the overlapping chaos.

  "Nobody here," Hal glanced around, his tone marked with suspicion. "A place this loud should be packed."

  I shrugged, not sharing his concern. "Maybe it's better that way." I stepped up to the bar, where a rust-streaked droid with one flickering eye whirred in acknowledgment. Its torso bore several patchwork plates where blaster fire had clearly been welded over in crude repairs. It wheeled over to where we had placed ourselves on the creaking stools.

  "What can I get ya? And just to be clear, I haven't done anything illegal in... Oh, what is it now? Three cycles since my last memory wipe?" The droid’s voice was cheerful, but the undercurrent of irritation made it clear this was a well-worn joke.

  "Two drinks. Something strong." I replied, not entirely sure what to expect.

  "Right away, sir." The droid turned with a mechanical whirr, its servos creaking as it went to prepare our drinks.

  I tapped my fingers idly against the bar’s scuffed surface, letting the sounds and sensations of the place filter through my senses. Even now, my Force Sight was only slightly hazy, the aura of everything around me drifting like smoke through the air. I needed a clear head to focus, but that was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I would need to meditate again and try to fully fix whatever is happening with my connection, but it was a job for later. I instead drifted my attention over to Hal, who was tapping at the bar with a few fingers while waiting.

  “You notice anything interesting on the screens?” I asked, trying to cut through Hal’s silence.

  He let out a low grumble before following my line of thought. "Well, one’s a podrace...looks like the Kandolla Derby. Big one out of Ando Prime." His voice dipped into something almost like nostalgia. "Lotta credits flowing into that place every season."

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Podracing, huh? Makes me wish I could watch. You know, my brother used to like racing and...vehicles." I let the words trail off, feeling the old ache stir again.

  "Guess you never saw the appeal," Hal replied gruffly, his tone deliberately casual as he avoided the mention of family. "Though, some folks just like the carnage. It’s the only reason podracing’s as popular as it is."

  “And the others?” I pressed, my curiosity genuine.

  Hal’s gaze shifted between the screens. "Droid rumble match on that far screen. Two scrap heaps smashing each other to bits for credits. Big crowds at those events on Canto Bight." He shrugged. "Then there’s a sabaac tournament being broadcast. Dunno why anyone would wanna watch other people play cards, though."

  “Sabaac is more about the drama. Watching desperate gamblers trying to bluff their way out of losing their last handful of credits." I allowed myself a slight chuckle. "I take it Nar Shaddaa's popular for all that stuff too?”

  “About the only thing it’s good for," Hal replied dryly. His voice had steadied a bit, his tone not as clipped as before. Maybe I was getting through to him.

  The droid bartender returned, sliding two glasses of some off-brown liquid our way. The smell was sharp, bitter, and not entirely unpleasant. "Two Starshine Surprises," it announced proudly. "And only partially synthetic! Enjoy."

  I wrapped my fingers around the glass and took a sip, the burn hitting the back of my throat before the bitter tang settled in. It wasn’t the worst thing I’d tasted. Bit dry, though not a bad flavor to it.

  Hal drank without hesitation, his shoulders finally seeming to relax a fraction. "Gotta admit, this place has decent booze, at least."

  "Well, that’s something." I leaned back on the creaking stool, feeling the slight burn of the drink settle in my throat. "Gives us a chance to talk."

  Hal reached for his drink and downed it in a single, angry gulp. His eyes lingered on my glass for half a second before he snatched it up and drained it just as quickly. The suddenness of it took me by surprise. The hard burn of the alcohol left him wincing, but the man’s desperation was palpable. He was trying to drown something far worse than thirst.

  The tension that had wrapped around him like a vice finally started to loosen, the alcohol working its way through his system and taking the edge off his nerves. I could feel the gradual shift, the rough corners of his anger blunted, even if only slightly. It wasn’t a solution, but it was something.

  We sat in silence for a few minutes. The noise of the bar drifted around us, the droid bartender sliding past to offer another drink. I waved it off, asking only for some juma juice and water. Better to pace myself, especially if this conversation was about to take a nasty turn.

  “Here you go, sir. Two of the most exciting beverages on this rock." The droid’s attempt at humor fell flat, but I murmured a quick thanks as it rolled away. I slid the juma juice over to Hal, who took it without hesitation.

  He took a long drink before finally exhaling, his shoulders dropping from their tense hunch. "I don't like bounty hunters," he admitted, his voice raw and tight. His eyes stared past me, focused somewhere deep in memory. I stayed quiet, letting him speak.

  "My grandfather was in the Viggian Raids. You heard of them?" Hal’s gaze didn’t meet mine, his focus lingering somewhere between the empty glass and the tarnished bar.

  I shook my head. "No. Doesn’t ring a bell."

  He laughed bitterly, a hollow sound. "Course not. They weren't pretty. Outer Rim issues, so the Republic barely dealt with it. He ended up with a price on his head. Jedi got involved, but..." His words trailed off, eyes darkened by memory.

  “What happened?" I asked, taking a sip of water. In hindsight, I should have drunk this before the Starshine Surprise.

  "Collateral damage," Hal spat the words like poison. "My parents, my sister, and that bastard all died. Pair of hunters fighting over his charred corpse... Disgusting." The last word came out as a snarl, the hatred clawing at him from the inside. Unresolved issues mid mission...

  Am I unlocking a loyalty mission or something here? I thought to myself, remembering such events from the old RPGs I used to play. Probably not the best time to think such things, but it was a thought.

  I needed to be careful. Too harsh and he’d shut down, too soft and I’d push him into a rage. I took a slow breath before speaking. "I'm sorry that happened. I am. I know what it's like to lose a family." The words felt heavy, sincere, even if I knew they wouldn’t ease his pain.

  "It's not the same with you!" Hal snapped, his gaze finally locking onto me, eyes burning with barely contained rage. "You didn't see—"

  "Not the same?" I snapped, my tone harsher than I intended. Anger flared up like a spark thrown onto dry kindling. "I lost my family before I came here too. May not be the same, but I fucking remember that shit like it was yesterday, so don't come at me with that bullshit, Hal."

  With him turned to me, I pressed a finger against the chestplate of his armor, my voice dropping low. "I give you far more leeway than I should. You are a Captain of the Imperial Stormtrooper Corps. Act like it."

  He swatted my finger away, his glare cold and unwavering. The tension between us thickened.

  "Their name was Vos’la Kaa," he said, voice low and dripping with resentment. "The armor is the same."

  I wanted to shrink away right then. "You gotta be kidding me." I let out a frustrated sigh. Of course, it wasn't just all bounty hunters. It was this bounty hunter.

  I sat in silence for a few seconds, thinking of what next. "What do you want to do, Hal?" I asked, my voice calm but pointed. "Want me to kill them, torture them? Mind trick them into spilling all their secrets?"

  Hal's jaw tightened.

  "I don’t know," he admitted, his voice grating like metal on metal. "Every part of me wants to put a bolt through their skull. Hell, I want to strangle them. Or bury them under rubble like my parents were," Hal’s voice trembled with barely contained rage, his fingers drumming against the bar as if the motion itself would somehow guide him to the right decision. "But... I need to know if it’s really...if it’s really the Vos’la Kaa."

  I let out a slow breath. That was progress, at least. The anger was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but the desperation to act had dulled somewhat.

  “Alright," I said, keeping my tone even. "We’ll figure that out. But you need to keep your head clear, Hal. If you go accusing them, we lose any chance of getting answers."

  He grunted, the sound halfway between agreement and frustration. "Fine. Just... if they are the same hunter, I want to be the one to put them down."

  The look in his eyes told me he meant it. I had no intention of stopping him if it came to that. We just had a job to finish first. Why does everything have to get more complicated than necessary?

  The door to the bar swung open with a creak and a hiss, drawing both our attention. Vos’la Kaa strode in like they owned the place, their helmeted head swiveling back and forth before their gaze locked on us.

  “Oh, now that’s just cute,” Vos’la said with a little laugh, their voice free of the vocal filter this time. "You two look like the definition of ‘odd couple’ over here. I’ve always been a bit of a sucker for guys in uniform.”

  They removed their helmet with a casual flourish, letting short-cropped blonde hair spill free. Without the modulation, their voice sounded... young. Too young. And confident in a way that felt more like an act than anything genuine.

  "Now," she continued, settling herself on a stool beside me with all the bravado of someone used to putting on a show. "What’d ya’ll get to drink?"

  Vos’la Kaa’s gaze drifted to my face, her expression shifting from amusement to curious fascination. Her eyes narrowed as she leaned in, practically crawling over Hal to get a closer look at me.

  “And those eyes! Prosthetics?” she asked, her voice brimming with excitement and interest. She was mere inches away from my face, her breath hot and rancid, smelling of sweat and grime. Definitely doesn't get out of the suit often enough.

  “Natural, actually.” I replied, turning my head away from her eager stare and looking down at the glass of water on the bar. Her sudden shift in presence was brash, pushy, but there was something genuine about the curiosity. Like someone who had spent too much time cooped up in a helmet and needed to have their senses constantly overstimulated.

  There was no way someone this... careless was the Vos’la Kaa we had been talking about. This woman felt like a wild card. And far too young to fit the story Hal had shared.

  “What color are her eyes?” I asked Hal, knowing it would force him to look at her. I kept my expression neutral, but the truth was I needed him to see her. To confirm, or better yet, to dismiss the idea that she was the same bounty hunter who had destroyed his family.

  I sensed his hesitation, the way his muscles tensed under the armor, but eventually, I felt his gaze turn toward her. Whatever anger he’d been trying to keep a lid on was now simmering just below the surface.

  "Green," he finally muttered, his voice strained. "Dark green."

  A thought began to form in my head. If this girl was the bounty hunter Hal was so eager to kill, she wasn’t what I expected. And if she wasn’t, then maybe we had another problem entirely.

  “How old are you?” I asked, voice calm and measured.

  “Don't ask a young woman her age so quick, handsome." She teased, the grin on her face showing her delight in my curiosity.

  I ignored her flirtation. "How old are you?"

  Her smirk grew wider. "An extra two thousand per question then," I said, feeling an involuntary tug at the corner of my mouth.

  "Well damn, ask away then, sir Inquisitor!" she replied with a cheeky grin.

  “The name’s Alonzo.”

  “Sounds exotic." Her tone was playful, even if there was an underlying caution there.

  I could feel Hal getting increasingly uncomfortable beside me, his posture growing rigid with each passing second.

  "How old are you?" I repeated.

  "Twenty," she answered with a shrug. "Standard years, if you care to be precise."

  So she was definitely too young to be the Vos’la Kaa Hal had encountered. But the name, the armor — it couldn’t be a coincidence. Someone had taken the name.

  A couple more questions followed, most of them simple and casual, but even the simplest inquiries were met with her endless flirtation and a brash confidence that bordered on arrogance. It was a performance, one I was all too familiar with.

  "So how long have you been on Nigiri?" I asked, leaning back against the bar, letting the casualness of the question disarm her.

  "A couple of months," Vos’la answered, swirling her drink with a careless smirk. "Can't say it's the most luxurious place I’ve been, but it’s got its charm. And the credits flow just fine."

  "Got a ship of your own?" I prodded.

  "Hell yeah," she said, her eyes lighting up with genuine pride. "The Crow’s Claw. Modified G9 Rigger. Fast and sturdy as they come. I put a lot of work into her."

  "G9 Rigger?" Hal asked, his voice tight but his curiosity apparent. "Haven’t seen one of those in years. They’re rare."

  "Rare, sure. But reliable," Vos’la replied with a grin, her enthusiasm genuine. "I got her patched up good. Even slapped on a few extras to keep the pirates off my ass."

  "I’ll bet," I said, feigning interest while carefully studying her reactions. I needed her to relax, to feel comfortable enough to let something slip. "Sounds like you’ve been doing well for yourself."

  She chuckled, the sound a little too forced. "Well, you know how it is. Gotta make your own luck out here."

  "Yeah, I’ll bet," I replied dryly. "But why take the name of someone else?"

  She paused, eyes narrowing just a fraction. "You think I stole something? Not everything’s a damn conspiracy, you know."

  "You don't strike me as someone who'd pick up a legacy unless there was something to gain." I shot back, letting the words hang for a moment.

  "Well, that’s the bounty game for you. Sometimes a name’s all you’ve got." Her words were flippant, but there was a faint tremor in her voice, one I doubted she even realized.

  "What happened to the previous Vos’la Kaa?" I asked, deciding it was time to push a little harder.

  The air went still. Hal’s body language was coiled like a spring ready to snap. And Vos’la... she tensed as well, a sudden tightness to her posture. Her fingers twitched toward her belt, like she was about to reach for a blaster, but she stopped herself.

  “He’s dead.” The words were delivered flatly, devoid of her earlier energy. Her eyes had lost their playful gleam, and now they only reflected caution.

  "How?" I pressed, letting my curiosity be a little too obvious.

  She lifted her glass to her lips, voice echoing slightly as she spoke. "Add another fifty thousand for that one."

  I tried not to let the frustration seep too much into my voice. The Empire’s credits didn’t matter to me, but the bill would be significant. And that meant questions from the Grand Inquisitor.

  And I did not want questions from the Grand Inquisitor.

  “Fifty thousand is steep for a bit of information.” I leaned back, my tone carrying just enough disinterest to sound natural. “Especially when you haven’t even rendered your services yet. How about thirty?”

  "Fifty," she fired back, not missing a beat. The edge of a grin twitched on her lips, her shoulders easing down. The bait was working.

  “Thirty-two.”

  “Forty-nine.”

  “Thirty-five and I’ll throw in a favor. Not the kind that ends with you in a shallow grave.”

  She laughed, the sound loose and genuine. The tension around her flickered, thinning just enough for me to push a little more. "Alright, alright. Thirty-five and a date. I get the feeling you’re a man of his word."

  "I'm a man of my word," I replied, feeling an involuntary tug at the corner of my mouth. Whatever kept her talking was worth the price. And if she was already this willing to negotiate, then maybe she wasn’t all that certain about her own worth.

  "Alright, then," she said, tipping her glass toward me before taking another sip. "Ask away, Mister Alonzo."

  "How old are you, Alonzo?" she asked suddenly, her gaze sharp even if her tone was playful.

  "Twenty-four standard years." I replied, my voice steady. "But you’re dodging the real question."

  Hal, who had been listening in silence, finally spoke up. His voice was strained, his helmet now firmly back on. Whatever little amusement he’d found earlier was long gone. "Previous Vos’la Kaa." He growled. That was all he needed to say.

  Vos’la’s expression shifted, the playfulness draining away as if someone had just turned off a switch. Her fingers hovered near her belt, the impulse to reach for a weapon still there but halted. Even through the foggy distortion of my Force Sight, I could feel the sudden spike of fear and resolve emanating from her.

  "I killed him," she admitted, the words cold and heavy. That warmth in her voice did nothing to hide the ice in her tone. "He wanted me dead, so I killed him."

  Hal’s fingers twitched against the edge of the bar, the sound of his gloves scraping against metal barely audible. His tension spiked, his breathing shallow.

  “What do you mean? Were you a target, or—” I started, carefully pressing her, wanting more information. If it was this easy to get her talking, then I needed to capitalize on it.

  Hal sat in utter silence, and I could feel his concentration centered on her, listening intently. The hunter. The name. And now this story. None of it lined up with the hatred he carried. Which meant one of two things: Either she was lying, or Hal’s revenge fantasy was about to collapse around him.

  She must have sensed the tension because her shoulders rose and fell with a deep, steadying breath. "Daddy was a bastard. Cruel, paranoid, and hellbent on keeping his little empire of fear intact. When I left, he decided that wasn’t acceptable." Her voice was tight, forced, but I could hear the truth in it. "I killed him because it was either him or me."

  Hal’s breathing was still shallow, his fingers twitching against the bar as he processed what she’d said. Anger mixed with confusion. It was like watching a blast door trying to open against a storm.

  Vos’la finished her drink and set the glass down with a clink. "So, Avner was it?" she continued, her tone shifting back to business as she reached for her helmet. The bright, casual arrogance slipped back into place like armor. "Better get on with it before I start asking for more credits."

  I allowed a small smile to form on my face, but beneath it, worry for Hal lingered. The man hadn’t said a word since her confession, understandably so.

  "Let us know what you find. Me and the Captain here will be in the city." I told her, keeping my voice casual but firm.

  Vos’la’s eyes widened for a moment before she caught herself. "Sure thing. What's your handy dandy comm frequency?" She pulled out a datapad and took my frequency with enthusiasm. Her emotions flickering wildly in the Force like sparks jumping from metal. Her excitement nearly slipped out in the form of a squeal before she caught herself, the sound dying in her throat with a hasty, awkward cough. She struggled to pull her business face back on, but the effort was apparent. The chaotic ripples of her emotions were as plain to me as the outline of her body, haloed in a pale blue. Hal next to her was a smoldering grey, with a tinge of red.

  “Yeah, uh, I’ll let you know when I’ve got something.” She gave us a mock salute, slipped her helmet back on, and turned to leave, confidence renewed and strut in her step.

  The second she was out of earshot, I turned toward Hal. He still hadn’t said a word.

  “A date with another murderer? You sure are fascinating, sir.” Hal’s voice was strained, each word laced with simmering anger. It came out like a sneer, the storm of emotions raging just beneath the surface.

  I clenched my jaw, waiting for more. But instead, the man pried himself off the bar.

  “I’ll be at the ship if you need me, sir.” His words were clipped, barely holding back the turmoil I could feel radiating from him. No more words really needed to be said. He needed time to think, not get wrapped up in an investigation in a cramped place like we were in.

  “That would be for the best, Captain.”

  I listened to his footsteps fade, swallowed by the restless hum of the bar’s ambience. My hand curled around the cool glass, and I sipped the last of the water, its chill doing nothing to steady the turmoil running through my mind.

  "A man of my word," I chuckled, the sound bitter as it left my throat. I placed my hand on the new helmet that sat on the bar stool next to me. "Like hell I am."