Chapter 22: Post Sith Blues

The neon glow of Café Sithé painted our awkward blushes in shades of crimson and violet, like the aftermath of a battlefield strewn with uneasy survivors. I could barely look Sola in the eye, my mind replaying last night's swift... culmination. The memory was a blaster bolt to my ego.

'I can't believe how much of a fucking beta I am.' The events replay in my head over and over again.

"Vex," Sola said, her voice slicing through the hum of the café, "stop brooding. It was endearing, in a way few things are."

Her eyes sparkled with that possessive gleam I'd come to associate with her kind of crazy. She wasn't mad. Far from it, she seemed to revel in the intimacy of the mishap.

I just grunted, sipping my caf to hide the heat creeping up my neck.

"Glad one of us finds my premature hyperdrive jump charming."

'UGH! She was so fucking hot the second I entered. I just blew rope like a fucking loser. FUCK! Vex, calm down, dude, calm down. Remember thick Lightsaber Vex.' I try to calm my mind by thinking about my pet project. 'Still, no matter what, I still lost my V card, which is more than I can say for my last life.'

"Adorable, really," she insisted, leaning in closer, her grin almost predatory. "Besides, we have more pressing matters to attend to."

"Right, the slicer droid,"

I muttered, eager to change the subject. This was familiar territory. Plans, acquisitions, and the dance of power plays.

"You have a lead on that?" I added.

A nod from Sola, and she unfolded a data pad, displaying schematics and coordinates with a swipe of her finger.

"Found a gem waiting for us at a space station. Not far from here, in system even."

"oh wow." I was surprised that there'd be a space station in the system, but it's not like a lot of society existed on Korriban outside of the tower, I guess. "This should be simple then."

"Nothing is simple with you, Vex Eras," Sola teased, eyes narrowing with a glint of mischief. "But this should be straightforward. We get in, buy the droid, and get out."

"Let's hope the galaxy agrees with your definition of 'straightforward,'" I said, draining the last of my caf and standing up. There was comfort in motion, in doing something other than drowning in self-conscious ruminations.

"Ready when you are, Sola."

Her hand found mine, her grip firm and reassuring. Two renegades against the cosmos, charting a course through stars and shadows.

'I wonder what we are?' I thought fearfully. Terrified of scaring her away with a label.

*****

Stepping out into the bustle of the spaceport with our cloaks on to hide our identities, I could feel the weight of gazes not just from Sola's lingering eyes but from the mass of travelers and traders. They all seemed to swirl around us, a galaxy of intent and ambition orbiting the gravitational pull of our mission.

"Come on."

I heard Sola say, her hand squeezing tighter into mine as she guided me towards the docking bays. Each step felt like shedding layers of unease, leaving behind the remnants of last night's awkwardness with every footfall.

We arrived at hangar bay seventeen, where my ship squatted like a forgotten relic of wars past. "The Predator" was emblazoned across the screen in front of the ship. A name I just really wasn't fond of.

Sola wrinkled her nose. "The Predator? Really, Vex?"

"Hey, I didn't name it that. My mom hated my choice and shoved this onto me." I said defensively, then chuckled. "Used to call it 'The Sleepy Cosby' albeit very briefly."

"Much better."

She smiled, mischief twinkling in her gaze. Without hesitation, she pulled out her own datapad and tapped away.

"It's official. Let's welcome 'The Sleepy Cosby' back into service."

I couldn't help grinning at the absurdity of it all, watching as she deftly re-registered the ancient XS stock light freighter under its new and original moniker. Somehow, it felt right.

"Let's see if she still flies," I muttered, knowing full well mom made sure the upkeep on the ship was tip top for my safety.

'She really isn't a bad mom.'

Inside the cockpit, the controls greeted me like old friends. As my fingers danced across the panels, igniting the engines, a tingle ran up my spine, an echo of exhilaration from one of the many souls long buried within me. The soul of a smuggler.

"Here goes nothing," I murmured, pulling on the flight yoke. The ship lurched beneath us, rising gracefully into the air.

"Vex, you're flying like you were born to do this!"

Sola exclaimed, her voice tinged with surprise and delight as we slid through the traffic with ease.

"Guess I'm just lucky,"

I replied, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. If only she knew about the master smuggler's spirit nestled among the others inside me. It takes a village, after all.

'I am the village.'

"Keep that luck coming,"

she said, leaning closer to watch the stars begin to streak by as we broke the atmosphere.

"I Always do"

I whispered to myself, my grip on the yoke steady as I steered us toward our destiny, one hidden soul at a time.

*****

As the Sleepy Cosby docked with a gentle thud against the Czerka sponsored space station's docking clamps, my breath caught as walked off the ship. Before me sprawled a labyrinth of commerce and neon signs flashing in alien scripts, echoing the colossal malls from my previous life on Earth. The familiarity was uncanny, tugging at the edges of my memory.

"Looks like someone's feeling nostalgic."

Sola teased, her eyes twinkling as she caught my gaze lingering over the grand promenades below us.

"How could you even tell? But yeah." I admitted, shrugging off the sudden rush of homesickness. "It's like stepping into one of those old holiday shopping ads, just... with less jingle bells and more blaster rifles."

"Jingle bells?"

She laughed, a sound that made the sterile air of the station feel a little warmer. We wandered together, past vendors peddling everything from exotic spices to refurbished droid parts. The scent of sizzling meats from a nearby food stall mixed with the tang of ionized air, creating an aroma that was both appetizing and slightly metallic. Then my eyes saw it. A Sullistan handing out what ostensibly looked exactly like mall chicken next to a sign that said, Sullust Max.

'Just like the mall.' I sat in wonder at the uncanny appearance of such a thing.

"Come on, Vex, there's somewhere we need to be,"

Sola said, her hand once again slipping into mine, guiding me through the crowd with an ease that spoke of her innate confidence.

'Is this a date? Where at a mall? I hope she doesn't make me try clothes on.'

We delved deeper into the bowels of the station, where the polished gleam gave way to rust and shadows. Here, the clientele matched the decor. Rougher, more guarded. Eventually, Sola stopped in front of a store so nondescript, I almost missed it. The sign above the door flickered intermittently, the name an illegible language far and away from Aurebesh.

"Trust me, they have what we need," she assured me, pushing open the door.

The interior was dimly lit, shelves cluttered with gadgets and parts that seemed to defy categorization. Behind the counter stood a Zabrak whose horns were adorned with rings that glinted in the sparse light. When he spoke, his accent sent a jolt through me.

"Whatcha lookin' for?" The Zabrak asked, his Boston accent thick and unmistakable. It was a punch of the familiar in this alien galaxy.

"Uh, just browsing."

I replied, my voice betraying a hint of the unease I felt. Not because of him.

'Why the Fuck does he have a Boston accent?'

"Take ya time ked, its fine." He said, returning to whatever contraption he was tinkering with.

"Vex? You okay?" Sola's voice cut through my thoughts, concern etched onto her face.

"Yeah," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just didn't expect to hear home so far from home, you know?"

"Home? Is that Zabrak from Ares II."

She questioned softly, squeezing my hand.

"Huh? Uhhhhh? ahhh we need the droid, yes?" I muttered, changing the topic back on the focus of the mission at hand. Though I still found the Zabrak's voice to be super surreal.

"Alright, Sola, let's talk business." Hoola's voice snapped me back to the present. We were standing in front of a peculiar droid that seemed to be performing a series of self-diagnostics.

"This is the slicer droid." Sola stated with a hint of pride in her voice, gesturing towards the machine. It was lanky and awkward, its movements not as fluid as I'd expect from a protocol droid, but there was something almost endearing about its quirkiness.

"Designation: 4-O20." The droid introduced itself in a clipped tone, executing a stiff bow.

'No way, really?'

I couldn't help it. A laugh burst from my lips before I could even think to stifle it. The number hit a memory so absurdly Earth-like that the irony was too rich to ignore.

"420, huh?"

I snickered under my breath. No one else seemed to get why that was funny, but the droid, now nicknamed '420' for the rest of our tenure together, didn't seem to mind the new title.

"Very well, Vex," Sola said, amused by my reaction. "If you're done bonding with our new friend here, we should finalize the deal."

As we wrapped up the details with Hoola, my gaze wandered over the shelves cluttered with all manner of tech and junk. That's when I saw it. A Droideka like chassis, sad and neglected in the corner. Its shell was scarred from battles long past, and instead of bristling with lethal weaponry, it sported what appeared to be... ice cream dispensers?

'What the fuck?'

"Hey, Hoola, what's the story with that weird battle droid thing?" I asked, pointing at the forlorn heap of metal.

"Ah, that old thing?" Hoola shrugged, scratching at his chin. "Useless, really. Some joker thought it'd be funny to turn it into an ice cream server. Can't shoot straight, can't roll right. You want it? Take it. No chahhge."

My eyes lit up.

'My very own ice cream droideka? Would it be okay to add an astromech brain into it?'

"Deal," I said firmly, and without thinking, I reached out and patted the chassis with empathy I didn't even show strangers nowadays. Like I found a pet to love. "Don't worry, little buddy. We'll give you a new life."

Sola raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She knew me well enough by now to understand that sometimes I just had to follow my gut, no matter how strange it seemed.

"Looks like you've got a new project, Vex."

She teased as we left Hoola's shop behind, 420 trailing along obediently.

*****

Later in the Day we sat in my room once again. The dimly lit terminal enough for out plotting and scheming. Grey board out as we plotted out revenge on Ya-ta Kesyk. I crossed off slicer on the board.

"This is a great start. Now we just need an astro mech which will be easy to aquire and Ya-ta's clearance codes." I spoke.

"That's the tricky part," Sola spoke with her hand fiddling with her chin. Thoughtfully. "We have the tournament next week. Maybe if you can knock her out in the tournament, I can extract the location of the codes out of her in the infirmary. After all, I am practically the princess of Korriban." She cooed.

"There's a tournament next week?"

Sola laughed, her melodic voice filling the room. "Of course, there is a tournament next week, Vex. It's all anyone has been talking about." She shook her head in amusement. "For someone so skilled with the Force, you really do pay so little attention sometimes."

I felt my cheeks flush slightly. It was true that I often got lost in my own thoughts, missing details that seemed obvious to others. The tournaments held little interest for me beyond being another test imposed by my Sith masters.

'I wonder if my ADHD from my last life persisted into this one.'

Sola didn't seem to mind, though. She was always patient with my eccentricities. It was one of the reasons In fact it seems she enjoyed my occasional listlessness. It gave her the means to advise me.

"I suppose my mind has been elsewhere," I admitted. "But you're right, the tournament could be the perfect chance to get to Ya-ta. Plus itll give me the chance to vent out a little anger."

"Yes…." Sola spoke with worry. "Vex, you mustn't kill her. Even mortally wounding her would make gaining the information necessary for proper retribution."

"Oh no, don't worry. I have plans for her. Her death demands purpose."