Within Hyperspace

[Lita Trykk]

[Priya Leye]

"Pago..."

She tenderly brushed her fingertips along the dark bruise of his jaw, along the line of the bacta patch pasted to his brow, and through the damp locks of his hair where she had sponged the worst of the blood and fever from them.

"Wake up, Pago..."

Val was tearing open another bacta gel pack with her clawtips, readily applying it to the remaining burn marks and broken ribs along the Jedi's torso. They were down to only one bacta patch left, having scraped the bare bottom of their medikit.

Pago had succumbed to his injuries the moment he and Priya had climbed aboard, fighting and kicking and clawing their way onto the ship until he'd blacked out with Priya's grip on his ragged coat. Val had sealed the bay doors and jettisoned them towards open orbit. Supposedly, the law said they were free once they had made it to their ship, but none of them wanted to put that law to the test.

Priya herself came out of her banged up armor with yellow skin mottled green with bruising, and one arm in a sling from the injury to her shoulder, but Pago had been completely exposed to every fist, weapon, and projectile. With the extent of his injuries, she wondered that he was able to survive, much less stand and fight as long as he did. Yet as she lifted one of the bandages now and slid her thumb over the smooth, unmarked skin, she marveled at how quickly the bacta was working. Did bacta always work that fast on such grievous wounds?

Or did his Jedi magicks have something to do with it?

She smiled with relief lifting her heart, and grazed her lips across Pago's uninjured temple.

"Come on back to us, Cowboy. Stop milking the fallen hero bit."

[Pago]

" How else am I supposed to keep you around ..?"

The groggy reply came with a weary smile, the battered hunter slowly curling his fingers and toes to try and restore a bit of sensation to his body. Dark eyes opened just a tad, the warmth of Priya's mouth sending a rush of adrenaline through him even though his mind was telling him to do nothing but rest.

He felt ... tired. Not even in pain, just exhausted, physically and mentally. Almost as if his very spirit had borne some of the damage for him.

" Are we alive?"

He reached out a hand to curl gently around Priya's tilting his head over to look at her properly.

" Val thinks so ..."

Pago chuckled softly, wincing a little as a dull ache in his ribs sharpened from the heaving of his shoulders.

" Okay, so no laughing for a bit ..."

His eyes looked over the Mirialan, noting the darkened flesh and trying to hide his guilt. Poorly.

" Priya ... Forcedamnit, Val, tell me we have more bacta for her?"

" Pretty Metal Lady tough. No need for bacta, nuh-uh."

" Tougher than me?" Pago raised an eyebrow at the Squib, making the younger woman giggle.

" Tougher than gundark on combat stim, you bet."

The other eyebrow came up.

" That's pretty tough."

He smiled warmly over at Priya, even as his eyes betrayed concern. His fingers tightened just a touch too firmly around her own for a brief moment.

" How you holdin' up, Sweetheart?"

[Priya Leye]

"Just a few bruises, Ace. Nothing a day at the spa can't cure."

She curled her fingers around his, even though what she wanted to do was throw her arms around him. For the sake of his ribs, she resisted the urge.

"...Thanks for staying behind with me. They'd have had me in seconds if you hadn't-"

Her voice broke and she hissed a vile curse.

"Dammit Pago, that's too many times in one day I thought I'd lost you. What're you trying to do to me? You got me all attached."

She lifted his fingertips to her chartreuse cheek to assure herself that there was warmth in them.

"Well, we'll have some days to recover, as we're a long ways away from the core worlds. Speaking of, when you are feeling up to it, Val found two encrypted messages transmitted to the ship while we were on Adumar. One shows to be from Coruscant, the other from Iridonia."

[Pago]

" Coruscant and Iridonia ..?"

Pago rubbed the stubble on his chin, first remarking how much nicer Priya's cheek felt, and then pondering just what in the Nine Corellian Hells his contacts would be reaching out to him for. Especially Sul. Why Sul? Why now for Sul?



***** ***** ***** ***** *****



It took a few hours before Pago could stand unsupported, but when he did he felt fine. Never better, aside from all the discoloration on his skin. He stood in the Holotransciever room of the Cheveyo, checking these messages that Val had informed Priya about, who in turn informed him.

The first was from Coruscant. Easy enough: his contact within the Galactic Alliance Intelligence Service. He may have just been a Bounty Hunter, but that didn't mean that Pago didn't act without authority. It was a pretty routine call, in all respects: just a request for a status update on where he stood with dismantling the Spice Ring that seemed to stretch from Abregado-Rae and outwards in The Core.

And he got to be the lucky sumbitch that informed GAIS that he still didn't have Ferne ke Tirol in custody, thanks to Adumar being crazier than a womp rat high on glitterstim. Would another field agent be dispatched to get the job done? He was quite positive that Adumar wouldn't appreciate such a direct application of the Galactic Alliance's power on their planet, hence why folks like himself, so black ops they didn't even exist, were routinely sent off to "propagate peace" on planets that would very much like to keep to themselves. No matter how much their citizens espoused an antithesis in philosophy.

Needless to say, GAIS was often quite pleased with his handiwork: having a Jedi ... Ex-Jedi? ... Jedi, on call greatly assisted the security of the Federation. Which in turn assisted The Jedi Order, which paid that back by helping to protect The Galaxy. It was a rather nice, tight circle, and Pago was quite proud to be a part of it.

He sent off his mission report for his contact in Intelligence and briefly wondered just how long it would take for them to get back in touch. Could be five cycles. Could be five Standard Years.


The next message was far more curious. From Iridonia, of all places. Before he even initiated the playback, Pago knew who it was from. Sul Zoth: his contact within the Jedi Order that kept him "in the loop" so to say, ever since Pago stepped outside of the Jedi-proper. If Sul was trying to get in touch with him, it meant something big. Something dangerous. The Bounty Hunter considered not bringing up the holorecording: had they not just been out of the frying pan? Could the fire not hold itself off for a little while?

He sighed. Shoulders sagged.

He hit the button.



***** ***** ***** **** *****



Pago came back to Priya and Val shortly afterwards, already dressed again. A new longcoat, a hat with distinctly less holes in it, and his sidearm loaded and ready to go.

" We're going to Iridonia."

That was it. No explanation, no word of anything else. Pago swept towards the cockpit quickly, leaving Val and Priya behind. The Squib's ears flicked indignantly at being left in the dark, mustering up what amounted to a bit of irritation in her voice.

" 'Going To Iridonia'," she mimicked Pago's speech as best as she could, " Iridonia too hot! Too cold! Too Iridonian! Horrible for Squib fur and Squib health! Pretty Lady, talk sense into Mister Pago!" she implored of her new friend.

[Priya Leye]

Priya had been in the midst of cleaning and repairing the surface damage to her armor when Pago made his abrupt announcement, several plates dismantled on her lap and an oily rag in her hand. Her gaze lowered briefly, her brows drawn together in thought as the Squib responded more quickly and decisively with her opinion.

She rested a soothing hand between Val's ears.

"Easy, easy, bluebell. Ace didn't look any too pleased about this, either."

His eyes had been hidden beneath the brim of his hat, but the press of his mouth had been...resigned. Tense. Terse. Priya was struggling hard not to take it personally, herself, that he hadn't even so much as looked at her. With more care than was apparent, she shoved the armor pieces off of her lap and tossed the rag aside.

"I'll go find out what this is about."

She drew herself to her full height and started to follow after Pago, but paused as she caught her reflection in the port window. Stars glittered behind the yellow pallor of a drawn face streaked with oil. Messy, purple hair was half-pulled back, and half falling across her tattooed eye. In place of her rendered bodyglove, her borrowed, rough-spun clothing hung unflatteringly off her shoulders, and baggy pants concealed the shapeliness of her hips.

Had she lost weight?

She sighed under her breath and turned away from the transparisteel. If she'd been Pago, she wouldn't have given herself a second look, either. Forcing her shoulders back and her chin up, she continued out of the lounge and into the cockpit, where she found their fearless leader programming in the new coordinates. She leaned against the door frame and folded her arms across her chest.

"Iridonia is clear on the other side of the galaxy. It'll be a long trip anyway...don't you want to take some time to relax first? Have a day at the spa, a day of shopping? Find a new hat? Have a nice, hot...meal?"

She worked her jaw, trying to keep the irritation out of her tone.

"C'mon Cowboy. What's so important on Iridonia anyway? The squib would barely be able to stand upright in that grav."

[Pago]

" We have to go."

Pago finished punching in the hyperspace coordinates for that volatile rock in the Mid Rim, finally taking his eyes away from the navicomputer to look over at Priya.

He seemed ... tired. Tired and worn. More than just what his injuries had done to him.

" Sit, sit down with me," he offered, reaching over and turning the co-pilot's chair out so Priya could lower herself into it. He leaned towards her, rested his hand on her knee. Removed his hat and placed it over the control console.

A small beep from the navicomputer signaled that the hyperdrive was ready when they were.

" ... There's a war going on."

That alone was probably none too surprising. Wars sparked across these stars more often than Tatooine experienced a dry-spell. But it was in his eyes that the wound could be seen. Beneath the chiseled features and cocky demeanor, Pago seemed drastically hurt.

" Against the Jedi. All Jedi. Everywhere. They're ... For Force's sake, they're being butchered. Contact has already been lost with Yavin Four, and now Ossus ..."

He hung his head. In shame. Gallivanting off in Wild Space with a gorgeous Mirialan while his brothers and sisters were gunned down. What sort of Jedi was he? To Hell with the fact that there was no way he could have known. Not until his Iridonian Contact had reached out to him to inform him.

To inform him that The Order was under attack, and the Alliance's stance was to not do a damn thing about it. No wonder that little detail was omitted from his communique from Coruscant.

" There's a ... A friend of mine. From The Order, on Iridonia, in Wortan. He asked to see me as soon as possible. He feels that something else is going on there, something that's causing trouble among the Zabraks. Clan Politics, power games, that sort of banthastang, but ... worse. Much worse. He's talking like Malidris is on the verge of a Civil War, but that can't be right ..."

Pago's eyes met hers.

He smiled for the first time since he went to go check the holo.

She really was gorgeous. Lucky him.

" I understand if you want off at this point, it's not like we're getting paid to go there, but ..."

Pago sighed. His shoulders deflated. He was not Pago Julastra, Captain of The Cheveyo, Knight Of The Order. He was just a man, now.

" I want you there with me. I ne- ... I need you there, with me, Priya."

His hand on her knee tightened a little more. Grazed just a little further up her leg. He himself slid forward on his seat, facing her, to come closer. Be closer.

" We have a lot of space to cut through before we can get anywhere near the Mid Rim as it is."

His lips curved up a little. Ah, what that chartreuse skin and those violet eyes did to him. His worries seemed to lift away: he could deal with them later. They would still be there tomorrow, and the next day, and even the day after.

Priya was right: he needed a break. She needed a break. They all did.

It would be a long trip.




A very long one.

" Plenty of time for relaxing. For a nice, hot ... meal."

[Priya Leye]

Her body tensed as Pago turned towards her. In these brief, oh so fast-paced weeks together, she had seen the Jedi persevere through the most dangerous and life-threatening of situations. He'd suffered the politics of a rigid and corrupt system, threats from the most dangerous of criminal cartels, the terror of apparent betrayal and the near-death of his closest friend. He'd been drugged, sentenced to death, and even blown up (which she still couldn't figure out how he had survived that). He'd always come through it all on top, but she'd never seen him look so burdened as he did now.

And for that moment, she wondered who Pago really was. Who is the man behind the space cowboy? What was in his past that he buried behind a sexy grin and antique slug thrower? ...What gave him such a haunted look that it could tear at the heart of a selfish bounty hunter?

For once, she did not feel so confident as she stepped fully within the cockpit, allowing the door to hiss closed behind her, and lowered herself into the co-pilot's seat. She started at his touch, surprised by the intimacy of it. Not that they had not touched before, and far more...enthusiastically, but somehow this was more familiar than a heat-of-the-moment locking of lips.

And then he told her, and she felt her stomach twist a little. The Jedi were being hunted down. Those mysterious, transcendental monks whom she had not even been certain were little more than urban legends until she practically tripped over one. Or had he tripped over her?

It was more than apparent by his tone that this was a very dangerous time for the men and women whom shared Pago's gifts, and that he was carrying the weight of guilt for not being on the front lines with them. When he'd finished explaining the situation, she did not yet respond to him. His eyes had lifted to hers, and she saw pleading in them, but did not yet know what he was asking for.

Her look grew puzzled, then understanding slowly came to her.

He thought she wanted out. That if it didn't have to do with the almighty credit, there would be no motivation for the mercenary to stay. She lowered her gaze and her lips pulled back a little in a scowl. And why shouldn't he think that? She'd given him every reason to think she cared of nothing else. Hell, it was all she cared about.

Except...except not even the threat of working for free was enough to chase her off of the Cheveyo.

She jerked again as the touch on her knee glided up to her thigh. Was...was he coming on to her? She'd been flirting so mercilessly with him, and to ambiguous results, that it was almost a shock to her system to have the tables turned on her.

As he held her eyes captive with his and the corner of his lips lifted a little, she felt her pulse jump. Oh yes, he was definitely sending signals.

She suddenly gripped his hand with her own, the one that had been slipping higher along her leg, and lifted her other hand to gently cup the back of his neck and keep him close.

"I'm not going anywhere, Jedi. Someone's got to help you save the galaxy."

Her head tilted at a slight angle, a slow smile teasing the corners of her mouth.

"And you didn't have to go through the trouble of seducing me. I would have stayed anyway."

[Pago]

It was that smile.

It really did rob him of a reason not to.

His hand curled tight around hers, his other cupping her cheek and pulling her close, off of her chair and onto his lap, with their mouths already tight together.

Save The Galaxy. Oh yes, they certainly could become its Guardians.

When they got to Iridonia. And Iridonia was a long enough ways away.

His injuries and weariness were forgotten, left only with the heat and need for the Mirialan in his arms. And need her he did, not just intimately, but deep in his damaged soul. She brought ... remembrance. Something like this he had felt before. He thought. But that didn't make sense, did it?

There was only one Priya Leye, after all: bounty hunter and all around scoundrel, a true pistol, but she shot him straight and true. Pago tried to free a hand to flail at the command console, slapping the button that sealed the bulkhead, including the captain's quarter, off from the rest of the ship.

They would need their privacy.



***** ***** ***** ***** *****



Val could only smirk as she heard the muffled sounds and the hiss of the door closing. It had been a long time since she had the feeling that Mister Pago was happy. The pheromones filling the ship didn't exactly disguise what was going on, and her Squib Nose, most sensitive of all noses, was keen to the fact. Politely, and with more social grace than she normally displayed, she made her way to the cargo bay.

If they were indeed going to Iridonia, a land of terrible duststorms, high gravity, and not-too-friendly natives, there were a few things she felt she needed to work on. Discretely, she took the Pretty Metal Lady's armor.

It was good. Koovy tough and shiny.

Not as good as Best Mechanic Val could make it, though. And the Squib owed her her life.

It was only a good trade, after all.