Fare For A Brigand: Part II

Chapter I

"I wish you wouldn't do that."

Naala gave Wes a scornful half-glance, not fully diverting her gaze from the speckled darkness in front of her. Safely out of Nal Hutta's orbit, the pair had perched themselves on the ledge of a platform in the ship's rear observation deck, which was essentially a large, transparent hemisphere on the ship's rear. The sight was spooking - the lack of girders or reinforcement beams made a forward glance seem as though one had nothing to separate himself from the vastness of space. During galas, the Hutt from whom the ship was lifted would position his repulsorlift in such a way as to be able to soak in the majestic view throughout the party's duration.

Wes ignored her momentarily as he cracked open the small glass tube, filled with glowing red crystals. Gently, he tapped the rocks out onto one of his blaster pistols, laid dutifully across his lap. Reaching for the other pistol, he used the butt of the gun to crush the crystals in a fine, red powder. His efficiency in doing so evidenced his frequent use of ixetal cilona. Popping a thin, steel tube from within the same blaster he'd used to make the powder, he gently nudged the sloppy pile into a narrow line. Naala averted her eyes, half in denial, and half in disgust. A sloppy snorting noise resonated throughout the chamber as Wes inhaled the powder. When the line was gone, Wes threw his head back jerkily and breathed a sigh of relief.

He remained still for a moment while the drugs took their effect, finally replying to Naala as the blackness of space became a canvas for a multitude of colors to paint pictures conceived in the depths of Wes's imagination.

"I handle myself just fine - Trust me, huh? My hobbies are none of your business, anyway..."

Naala quirked a brow, replying with palpable disdain.

"It's an awful habit. You know- " Naala, about the deliver the obvious admonishment, was cut off by Wes.

" -that these things will kill me?" Wes scoffed. "My job will kill me before these do."

The silence that followed hung, though comfortably, as Wes and Naala watched the stars fly by. Naala tried her best to meditate, but her thoughts were aflutter, hopping between this and that. She tried to reconcile the mission's events up to this point in her mind. The death of her master had shaken her, but she'd done a surprisingly good job of emotionally detaching herself from the incident. Her misgivings about the operation had been dead-on, though. She and Wes had barely fought their way out alive.

Wes, who'd followed the hit of cilona with a cigarra, stood after a short time.