Kindred Spirits
Author: Christie Golden
Date: 2017-03-15T04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Star Wars; Star Wars: New Canon
Description: The story is a prequel to Christie Golden's novel Dark Disciple.

“This enterprise is doomed to failure,” Asajj Ventress muttered. Her hands were securely bound behind her, and she was sweltering beneath the blazing Florrum sun in a long dark robe and heavy cloak.

“Only if you blow it,” Lassa Rhayme whispered back. The blue-skinned Pantoran wore Ventress’s clothes: black boots with blue protective shin plating, leggings, and a black, high-collared shirt beneath a tunic. There was more plating on the left shoulder and across the hips, and plenty of places to fasten a variety of gear. The pirate captain looked born to it.

Ventress had no intention of “blowing it,” but she was definitely having second thoughts about this scheme.

Taking the bounty had seemed like a good idea at the time. The job had appeared on the roster with an impressive number of credits attached to it, and Ventress had recently laid out a sizeable amount for repairs to the Banshee.

Seeking half-dozen skilled fighter pilots to serve as escort for the cargo ship Steady On. No questions asked. Half payment upon agreement, half upon safe delivery of Steady On’s cargo.

“Smugglers plus cargo equals pirates” was an equation Ventress had learned long ago, so the attack on the Steady On was not unexpected. What was unexpected was getting rescued by a second group of pirates, the Blood Bone Order, who had also intended to plunder the freighter.

“We’ve been planning this for weeks,” Lassa Rhayme had told her. “You can imagine my surprise when, upon the Opportunity’s arrival at the proper coordinates, the only ships we saw were fighters floating dead in space.”

Ventress had been the only survivor. Rhayme had brought the wounded woman to the ship’s sickbay and healed her injuries. She had also towed the Banshee in for repairs.

“Why?” Ventress had asked, curious.

“When your ship was in such bad shape and you were still alive, I had a hunch. It paid off. We found this.” Rhayme had reached behind her back, withdrew Ventress’s lightsaber, and tossed it to her. “I can use your help recovering the Steady On.”

Ventress welcomed the familiar weight of the weapon in her hand. She had expected to miss her twin red lightsabers, but was glad now that they had been stolen. The old ones reminded her too much of Dooku, and she found she preferred the yellow light of this one. “I might be willing to help you—provided I get to keep a certain piece of cargo.”

“What might that be?”

“That might be my business,” Ventress had replied.

Rhayme’s golden eyes had narrowed as she speculatively regarded the woman she’d rescued. “One item?”

“One item.”

She nodded. “Help me get the freighter back, and whatever it is, it’s yours.”

Rhayme had sent a crew member to go undercover on the Steady On. He had reported back that Hondo Ohnaka, the pirate responsible for the theft, was currently not on the Florrum base; only a skeleton crew led by an underling was unloading the Steady On. “It’s a break for us—Hondo’s sharp, and a nasty piece of work, even for a Weequay.”

Weequay.

“Now, you have my attention,” Ventress said. “I am... not fond of Weequays.”

It was an understatement. Ventress despised the species, with their leathery, wrinkled skin and sour dispositions. Weequay raiders had murdered both her slave master and, later, Ky Narec, the Jedi who had taken her on as his Padawan. Her hand had tightened on her lightsaber in anticipation.

“Don’t get too free with that,” Rhayme warned, nodding at the weapon. “I’m not fond of high body counts. We kill when needed, not for sport.”

“You sound like a Jedi,” Ventress had said scornfully.

“Don’t insult me.”

Jiro, the pirate put in charge in Hondo’s absence, had been intrigued by Lassa’s proposition when contacted via hologram, and permitted them to land in the flat, rocky depression in front of Hondo’s complex. The area was cluttered with debris. Somebody had ferreted out this hideaway not too long ago, and it was definitely the worse for wear. Ventress had spotted the Steady On— noteworthy for being completely intact amid the rubble—being unloaded as they were “escorted” inside what remained of a large, multi-level complex at blasterpoint.

“I’m beginning to think this wasn’t such a good idea,” Ventress continued as they walked through a triangular door and passed from sunlight into gloom.

“Hey there, no talking!” One of the pirates shoved a blaster into Ventress’s midsection. She gritted her teeth to keep from Force-hurling the disgusting creature the length of the enormous and poorly named “grand hall.”

A few of the pirates were engaged in activities such as drinking, flirting with the female members of the crew, fighting about flirting, betting on fighting, and the fine art of sliding off a chair completely smashed. But there were others, their cold gazes crawling over the newcomers, who speared food with knives as if they were simply practicing carving up flesh. Jiro awaited Ventress and Rhayme at the far end. Seated at a long table on a raised dais, he sprawled comfortably in an ornate chair that commanded the best view.

He was one of the ugliest Weequays Ventress had ever seen, with a row of single locks of hair standing up in spikes on his overlarge head and two longer braids trailing down his back. The pirate who had brought in the two women handed him Ventress’s lightsaber. Jiro looked at it carefully, then at Ventress, and finally at Rhayme.

“You must be someone special, to catch a Jedi. How’d you manage it?”

“The magnificent Captain Rhayme,” and Lassa spat on the ground, “sends her crew off to scout for news of ships to plunder. That’s how I came across her.” She gave Ventress a scornful look. “I found her pretty badly injured, from what or whom I don’t know, but still alive. I took her back to my ship, healed her up—enough to walk, at least—and contacted you.”

Ventress gave Lassa a look that she hoped was both defiant and exhausted. Jiro leaned back in his chair, plunking filthy boots on the table. At the next table over, someone belched.

“I’ve heard of Lassa Rhayme. Sounds like she’s not your best pal.”

“Hardly,” Rhayme said, with just the proper amount of loathing, her lip curling slightly. She’s good, Ventress thought. “That witch is brutal. We boarded a Separatist ship once, and she stole its torture droid. Rhayme’d always been harsh to her crew, but now...” the “bounty hunter” shook her lavender head. “I’d do anything to get out from under her thumb.”

“Like deserting your captain to join Hondo’s Gang, eh? How could we trust a turncoat?”

Rhayme smiled sweetly. “Hondo gave you a second chance when you turned on him, didn’t he?” Ventress stifled a smile as Jiro’s face darkened at the reminder. She and Lassa had done their homework. Rhayme folded her arms.

“Look—I’ve got everything to lose and nothing to gain by lying. I’m giving you a Jedi. The ransom the Order will pay for her safe return will be staggering. Plus...” She placed her hands on the table and brought her face close to his. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know about Lassa Rhayme’s plans. Hondo will come back to find that in his absence, you have defeated a dangerous pirate captain, captured her ship, have a new loyal crewmember, and a Jedi prisoner in the bargain. He just might make you second in command.”

Jiro considered this, removing his boots from the table and leaning forward. “Still, why not keep the Jedi yourself and collect the bounty?”

Ventress’s patience had worn out. The more the Weequay grilled them, the more likely he was to simply order both her and Rhayme shot and claim all the glory himself. Time to shake things up a bit.

The lightsaber sailed from Jiro’s hands into Ventress’s just as she spun around to catch it. She could not use it to cut her bonds with her hands bound behind her, but she could fight. With a yell, she sprang over Rhayme, turning in mid-air and angling the lightsaber so precisely it singed Rhayme’s lavender braid.

“What—” cried Jiro, then dived for cover under the table.

Rhayme gasped and stared at Ventress. Her brilliant gold eyes narrowed and she lunged for the nearest blaster, which happened to belong to the pirate who had brought them in. Ventress was therefore not displeased when Lassa used him as a shield while firing at the “Jedi.”

The shots barely missed Ventress. Rhayme looked furious. Her color was up and her white teeth were bared in a grimace of pure hatred.

Oh, no. She thinks I’ve turned on her.

It was a perfectly reasonable assumption. There had been a time, not long ago, when it would have been the correct one. But not today. Ventress would have to hope that Lassa Rhayme would understand what she was doing—and that Jiro wouldn’t.

With her back to Rhayme, Ventress used the Force to sense the bolts coming and bat them away. She heard a yelp behind her, but it was decidedly not feminine. Good. She jumped onto the table, whirling in a circle down its length and catching any stray arms or torsos unfortunate enough to be in her lightsaber’s blazing yellow path.

“Stand down, Jedi!” came Lassa’s clear, strong voice.

Has she caught on yet? One way or another, either to continue the plan or end it, Rhayme would have to stop Ventress. Two Weequays charged the table, raising their blasters. Ventress leaped to meet them, kicking out with both feet. The toe of each boot caught a startled pirate under the chin. Their heads snapped back and they crumpled, either unconscious or dead.

As she landed, a powerful kick in the small of her back sent her sprawling. Her lightsaber was snatched from her hands and a second later, pain blossomed in her wrists. Lassa Rhayme, pirate captain, planted a boot on her back—Ventress shifted her head to one side and looked up, still uncertain as to whether Rhayme was friend or foe. Rhayme brought the humming tip of the lightsaber so close to Ventress’s face that she was forced to squint against its brightness.

She struggled for breath, and finally gasped, “I... yield.”

“I didn’t believe you were really able to capture her,” Jiro said, somewhat grudgingly, as the “defeated Jedi” was led away. “I am... impressed.”

Rhayme’s shoulder ached, and she would have several bruises shortly, but she’d had worse. “No question, Jedi are tough to defeat. I’m lucky she’s not at her best.”

She casually fastened the lightsaber to her belt, as if there was no question that it belonged to her. Jiro noticed the gesture, but let it go, doubtless reasoning that the amount the Gang would receive from the Jedi Council would more than compensate him for a lost lightsaber.

“So I take it we’re agreed?” Rhayme continued. “You get the bounty on the Jedi and accept me as a crewmember, and I tell you where to find Lassa Rhayme’s fleet.”

“Well,” Jiro hedged, “It’s Hondo who has to make the final decision.”

She took a seat without being invited, and again, Jiro did not object. “I’m not surprised. It’s his gang, after all. I’ll wait. When is he expected back?”

That threw Jiro. “He didn’t say. But I could put in a few good words for you if you were to tell me where to find this fleet. So I could, ah, prep the ships and get them all ready-like.”

So you could send off your men now and take all the credit-like, Rhayme thought, amused. And likely try to kill me in the bargain. Rhayme pretended not to have come to this obvious conclusion.

“That’s a great idea!” she said. Jiro visibly relaxed. “Now... let me start by telling you how many ships Rhayme commands, what kind, and their names.” She smiled. “I think a drink might loosen my tongue... if you’ll join me.”

Jiro gave her a lascivious look, reached for a no-doubt filthy mug, and sloshed a bright green liquid into it.

The lightsaber burns on Ventress’s wrists were exquisitely painful, but she didn’t care. In taking Ventress down, Lassa had sufficiently damaged the stun cuffs so Ventress could break free—and that meant Lassa believed her. She could take a little pain.

Once the doors to the grand hall closed behind her and her escorts, Ventress wasted no time. She used the Force to shatter the remains of the binders and extended her hands, palms up, to each side. Two of the pirates slammed hard into the walls. She whirled on the third, who came at her with a fist raised and rotting teeth bared, and punched him in the throat. The fourth grabbed her arm. She twisted, using her momentum and the Force to hurl him over her head, landing a blow to his jaw on his descent.

They all looked to be alive, but out cold. Better safe than sorry, though. Ventress relieved the guards of their blasters, then paused. Rhayme had asked her to kill only when needed. Sighing, she set one blaster to stun, and gave the pirates a second shot of dreamland.

Now to take over the Steady On—and make sure the item she’d been hired to safeguard was still on board.

Once Lassa told Jiro where Captain Rhayme’s fleet was supposedly based, he, of course, decided immediately to take the initiative and send what ships were on Florrum to attack. Lassa encouraged him to send all his men, but he stubbornly shook his head.

“Hondo said he wanted the cargo unloaded,” he insisted.

That was really too bad, but Lassa took comfort in knowing that she’d just sent all the intact ships on Florrum and every pirate but Jiro, those sprawled snoring on the ground, and the few unloading the Steady On off on a wild caranak chase. With gusto, Lassa spun outrageous tales of the terrors the “evil Captain Rhayme” perpetrated upon her hardworking crew, buying time for Ventress. Jiro swallowed it all, apparently having decided that since she had defeated a Jedi, Lassa was entirely trustworthy.

A movement caught Rhayme’s eye. Ventress’s slender, robed figure blended so well with the shadows that she was easy to miss. She’s very good, Rhayme thought.

“So tell me more about this ale that your Captain Rhayme hoards all to herself,” Jiro prodded, plunking down his empty cup and reaching for a refill.

“Ale? Oh no, it’s Tevraki whiskey,” Rhayme said, watching Ventress out of the corner of her eye while smiling at Jiro. “And a finer thing has never touched your lips.”

Jiro leered hopefully at the implied invitation. Ventress made her way to the door and slipped outside. Lassa waited, continuing to exchange suggestive remarks with Jiro. She gave it a few minutes more, then unobtrusively placed both hands below the table, pressed a button on her bracer, and gave Jiro a bright smile.

“Well, I can’t say this hasn’t been fun, but I must be going.” She indicated the cup of green liquid. “Thanks for the, ah... whatever that was.”

Jiro’s green eyes narrowed. “What’re you talking about?” “My ride should be here right about...” She cocked her head, and was rewarded by the unmistakable sound of a ship landing in the outside arena.

“Now.”

Faster than she would have given him credit for, considering the amount of alcohol he had imbibed, Jiro leaped over the table with a roar. Rhayme darted away, pressing the switch on the lightsaber. It activated with a snap-hiss, almost startling her with its speed. A sword was a sword, however, and Lassa Rhayme knew how to use one. Jiro grabbed for a blaster someone had left on the table, but Rhayme slammed the lightsaber down, slicing through both blaster and table with as little effort as if she were cutting through butter. Jiro growled and threw a stool at her. Again, Rhayme waved the yellow, humming blade and cut the piece of furniture in half.

She laughed with sheer delight. What a glorious weapon! She swung it simply to hear the sound it made.

“Which of you is the Jedi?” blurted Jiro.

“Jedi?” came a smooth voice trembling with indignation. “In my hall? Again?”

Jiro and Rhayme whirled simultaneously to see Hondo Ohnaka silhouetted in the triangular doorway. He carried an electrostaff which sparked magenta at both sharp ends and stood like an aristocrat, head high, one hand on his hip, his duster billowing about him. The effect was spoiled by the Kowakian monkey-lizard perched on his shoulder. Hondo strode forward, fairly vibrating with offense.

“Jiro! You imbecile! What have you done? Where is my crew?” He completely ignored the woman holding the active lightsaber. Rhayme stared from one to the other, unsure whether to attack or to burst out laughing.

“Oh, hello, boss,” Jiro said miserably. “This lady here came saying she wanted to defect from the Blood Bone Order and join us instead.”

“Of course she does. Everyone knows Lassa Rhayme is a tyrant. Am I not correct? Hmm?” He peered alertly at Rhayme, expecting confirmation. She nodded wordlessly.

“And—she brought us—I mean you, boss—a Jedi she’d captured. Said we could hold her for ransom and—”

“Da-da-da-da!” Hondo cut him off with an imperious, irritated gesture. “I leave you alone for half a day—half a day!—and look what you have done. No more ransoming Jedi! That never ends well. Bad for business.”

“But... it was like this beautiful fruit just fell, right into my lap!” Jiro pleaded.

Hondo sighed and placed two fingers to his temple under his helmet as if in pain. “How many times must I tell you, Jiro. You cannot trust such unexpected gifts. Fruit never falls into your lap unless you shake the tree first!” He looked at Rhayme, spreading his arms in a helpless manner. “You see what I have to deal with.”

“I certainly do,” Rhayme said, not without sympathy.

“Now, then,” and he turned to her, “what do you really want?”

Rhayme sobered and drew herself up, meeting his eyes evenly. “To take back what’s mine.” She pointed the lightsaber at him. “You stole my haul, Hondo Ohnaka. You see...” and she smiled fiercely. “I’m Lassa Rhayme.”

“You? The terrifying captain of the Opportunity?” He eyed her up and down. “Not what I expected. Not at all.” He clucked his tongue and shook his head sadly. “Little girl,” he said, “did you think I had come alone?”

And the hitherto empty chamber echoed with the sound of weapons being drawn.

Lassa smiled. “Did you think I did?”

Sudden perplexed cries of pain and anger came from the entrance area of the grand hall, followed by blaster fire. Hondo turned to look, and in that moment, Lassa sprang.

She brought the lightsaber arcing down, but Hondo recovered in time to block it with his electrostaff. His eyes narrowed behind his goggles. “This is a fight you cannot win, my dear. You may have the laser sword, but you don’t have the Force.”

“Don’t need it.”

He swung the staff low, but she leaped up and it sliced only air. A second jump brought her onto the table, and she swung with the lightsaber. This time, he struck it hard and the impact jarred her injured shoulder. Gritting her teeth, Lassa kicked out and up, and the electrostaff flew from Hondo’s hands.

“Not bad,” Hondo admitted. He recovered the weapon and vaulted up to join her, shoving one of the sparking ends of the staff like a spear. She parried, but let him drive her down the table, pretending to be unsure of her footing. A smile curved his thin mouth, and he feinted, dodging her blow and bringing the staff down.At the last second, Rhayme swerved and dove for a blaster someone had left behind. In one graceful movement, she grabbed it, fired at Hondo, and flung the lightsaber toward the doorway.

Ventress—don’t fail me...

Ventress had been using a combination of the Force and the pirates’ own blasters to methodically mow them down. It was almost too easy. She’d already incapacitated the half-dozen who had been unloading the cargo ship, and Hondo had brought only another ten back with him. There was an ample supply of things to hurl at them—pitchers, a crate and the sharp-edged tools it was filled with, mugs, stools, even the pirates themselves could be used to knock their fellows down. It was good exercise, and Ventress welcomed the chance to work up a sweat while fighting hated Weequays. Respectful of Rhayme’s wishes, she didn’t shoot to kill, but several of them were on the ground writhing in pain from blaster shots to their arms or legs.

Suddenly Ventress felt a quick, bright urgency in the Force. She whirled, looking toward the far end of the hall, and saw her lightsaber hurtling upward.

It turned end over end, still lit. Some of Hondo’s pirates tried to grab it in mid-air, and paid with their fingers. Others, more wisely, dove out of the way. Ventress shot out her hand and the hilt smacked into her palm. She grinned as she sensed the tension in the remaining four pirates skyrocket. At that moment, she heard the sound of another ship landing outside, and felt the presence of two-dozen life forms racing across the landing field.

She grinned, and set to.

“Not so fast!” Hondo warned as Lassa turned to fire on him. He struck her full in the chest with the end of the electrostaff and Lassa gasped, flailing helplessly as the jolts surged through her. She crumpled, gasping, and tumbled limply off the table, spasming on the ground.

He leaped lightly down and gazed at her. “A good effort, my dear. I’m impressed. You almost lived up to your—”

Rhayme lifted the blaster and aimed it directly at his chest.

“—reputation,” Hondo finished.

“It’s set to kill,” she warned him. “Throw away the staff.” “Surely we can work this out like two civilized pirates,” he protested, but did as she ordered.

Lassa got to her feet, still feeling the effects of the staff, but forcing herself not to show them. “On your knees, hands behind your head.”

Again, Hondo obeyed. “Come now, Captain Rhayme, let us not be hasty.”

She stepped forward, placing the tip of the blaster between his eyes. “You mocked me earlier. I think you’ve changed your tune.”

“Most certainly,” he said. To his credit, his voice was completely calm.

“I’m taking what’s mine.”

She fired.

“Hondo was rather charming, actually,” Lassa said, finishing her account as she and Ventress sat in her cabin aboard the Opportunity. On the table beside the bounty hunter sat a nondescript metal box about a third of a meter high. “Of course I wasn’t about to kill him, but he didn’t know that. It’ll be fun to hear what sort of rumors he’ll spread.”

“Well done,” Ventress said as Rhayme uncorked a bottle of aged Tevraki whiskey. “So... I’ve been wondering something.”

“Fire away.”

“You don’t have any tattoos.” She’d noticed it immediately upon meeting Rhayme. All the Pantorans Ventress had encountered adorned their faces with bright yellow tattoos. She wasn’t sure what they signified—family affiliation, social rank, personal achievements—but they all had them.

“That’s because I have no loyalties other than to my crew,” Lassa said. “They are my family. Otherwise—I belong only to myself. I am my own woman.”

Ventress nodded. She liked that. She thought of her own tattoos, and how much they meant to her. Rhayme’s unmarred face obviously conveyed the same pride.

Rhayme raised her glass. “To success—and perhaps, new friends.”

Asajj was surprised at her reaction. She didn’t have “friends.” But she’d grown to admire Lassa, and the other woman had kept to every part of their bargain. And... she was good company. Ventress said nothing, merely gave a fleeting smile as their glasses clinked. The whiskey was delicious—a warm, slow comfort slipping down her throat.

“Much better than what they serve in the bars on Thirteen- Thirteen,” Ventress said. “I could get used to drinking this.”

“Why don’t you?” Lassa said. “I can provide erratic but profitable income, bed and board, adventure, fair treatment, and the company of the woman who beat Hondo Ohnaka in single combat.” She winked a golden eye.

It sounded good. Very good. And for a long moment, Asajj Ventress was tempted. But then she thought of all the company she would bring along with her; the shades of the dead, the remnants of dark memories, and a wariness that would likely never fade. Ventress would never trust anyone, not really, not even this remarkable woman with whom she had partnered for a brief time. She would always be alone, and she accepted that.

“While that’s a fine offer,” she said, “I must decline.”

She sensed Rhayme’s genuine disappointment, but the Pantoran recovered quickly. “If you ever change your mind, the offer stands.”

“And if you ever need a bounty hunter, I’m not hard to find.”

“Deal.” They shook hands. “In the meantime,” Rhayme said,“let’s take a look at this item that’s been so problematic.”

Ventress glanced at the box beside her. “Part of the deal was that I don’t look at it.”

“You’ve worked pretty hard for your bounty this time, Asajj. Go on. You can always say you were making sure it wasn’t damaged in the fighting.”

Ventress considered that. “Sheb does strike me as a dealer who’d appreciate that concern.”

The lock was easy to pick, and Ventress carefully lifted the lid. A small force field in the box itself prevented unauthorized handling. Ventress was seldom moved by beauty alone, but this time, even her eyes widened as Rhayme gasped softly.

The object that had given her so much trouble was no gem, or weapon, but a simple statuette. A sea mammal with four flippers and an elongated muzzle was caught in a moment of joyous freedom, its small gem eyes sparkling, its sleek body curled beneath it so its tail merged with the wave that formed the base. The stone from which it was carved was a breathtaking shade of blue. The entire image—its sense of action, of grace and power and playfulness, its delight in movement, even its hue— seemed to Ventress to be a reflection of the Pantoran woman sitting before her.

A pirate’s life—but not for me, she thought.

“A pity you can’t keep it,” Rhayme said.

Ventress merely nodded. With unwonted gentleness, she closed the lid and locked it.

“I do my job,” she said, and slid her glass over for a refill.

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From Star Wars Insider 159 (August/September 2015)