Chapter Text
I live my life in shackles but I'm borderline free
I used to be blind and I still can't see
And I won't get around to a change of mind
As long as nobody breaks my stride [x]
The ventilation shaft of the Jackal was no more cramped than the other ventilation shafts Mara Jade had been in before. She stretched out with the Force to get a sense of the presences below, six all male, and --
Mara froze immediately and doubled her shields. One was Force sensitive. Mara felt unease spread through her. Strong, from the brief glimpse she’d got. Whoever the person was, now he knew she was there.
Mara cursed under her breath as she went through a calming technique. Had she known she’d be up against a Force user she would have contacted Skywalker. As much as her skills had improved post Wayland, they were still paltry. She and Skywalker had tried to coordinate a training schedule, but between his committee meetings, then her committee meetings, it had turned into an annoying game of comlink tag. Finally, she’d thrown her hands up and stopped answering his comms, and shortly after, he'd gotten the hint and stopped contacting her altogether. What was the point?
Mara bit her lip moving back from the supply shaft and away from the pirates --away from the Force user, no one that strong was simply Force sensitive -- and refocused on her shields. Maybe ignoring Skywalker’s attempts to contact her hadn’t been the best decision. Nothing to be done now but hope the shielding would be enough.
In her distraction, her tools clanged hard against the shaft. Mara closed her eyes and stood still. The voices had died down. Not a good sign. She was tempted to reach out again, but didn’t dare. She set to make her way down, leaving behind her tools, she had others stashed elsewhere.
Mara was almost at the end, she unholstered her holdout blaster carefully and pulled out the suppressor from a pocket of her utility belt, working it on the muzzle before reholstering the blaster. The fit was uncomfortable, but she'd have to live with it for the moment. She pushed the panel to the supply room, inching down to some crates carefully, only to end up pulled down by a hard grip at her ankle. She kicked instinctively with her other foot, and felt the toe of her boot connect with her assailant who let out a sharp grunt. He was shoved back by the impact and she landed in a crouch on one knee, her holdout blaster already in hand, finger already pulling the trigger -- until it yanked itself from her grip and went flying.
The Force user.
She ducked behind some crates, mentally filing his description and location in the room. Nondescript to the point of blandness, gray eyes, full beard...she turned around and held her breath, crouching down. Something didn’t feel right.
It didn’t feel right in her head. Mara heard no movement. He was probably secure enough in his abilities to wait her out or he was doing something to her with the Force. Both galled her, and she clenched her teeth. The wrongness in her head took precedence. It was like a thin film over her perceptions, if she just pushed... the wrongness faded.
Triumphant, she came back up, her hand going towards one of the vibroblades at her waist, thinking grimly, alright, let’s play -- and found herself staring into Skywalker’s surprised face.
“Mara?” he whispered right as the pirates walked in blasters in hand.
--
“What’s going on?” Bareth asked, four of the crew with him.
Luke was about to reply, but Mara did it for him.
“I’m so sorry.” It wasn’t just the tone, the mumbled words had a thick Outer Rim accent. She’d bent her shoulders and lowered her head, stepping away from the pirates. From Mara, now that he’d recognized her, all of it just seemed jarringly out of place. “I-I-I just wanted a ride to the Volteri system.”
The pirates laughed riotously.
“A stowaway?” Bareth smiled. His two front teeth were chipped and it was always an unpleasant sight. “We have a stowaway?”
“P-Please don’t hurt me.” There was a hiccup to the last that made Luke’s stomach turn despite knowing the whole thing to be a ruse. He found himself taking a step towards her, but was buffeted by warning quite the opposite of what was on display. That was Mara. He felt himself relax a bit.
Not for long. “A spaceport mouse! How about that? Even mice have teeth though. Stonn, since you found her -- why don’t you make sure she doesn’t bite?” Bareth met Luke’s eyes and nodded towards Mara. “Frisk her.”
Luke approached slowly, sending vaguely soothing thoughts her way only to be rewarded with sound impatience. Before him, the raven-haired character Mara was playing went wide-eyed and kicked away in a way Luke knew was fake. His jaw still smarted from her earlier kick.
“Stop dawdling. Kriff, you’d think you’ve never searched anyone before.”
Tamping down on his reluctance, Luke grasped Mara’s arm. She pulled away and he gently pulled her back. She blared disapproval, oddly enough, that whatever he was doing was wrong, and the reproach through the Force was so strong it threatened to drown out the complaints of the crew.
Luke gritted his teeth, delivered a clipped, “Be still,” and unceremoniously yanked off her jacket and undid her utility belt, dropping both on the floor. The pirates hooted at the discovery of the empty holdout holster. Luke made himself ignore them as he went through a methodical pat down that had been drilled into him ages ago, wrapping a hand around her upper arm and sliding it down, repeating the movement with the other, a cursory pass along her legs, running a hand down either side. He slid a finger along the inside of her pants, discovering two thick and wicked looking vibroblades in two interior sheaths fastened to the inside of the waistband of her pants. He set them both on top of the jacket and beside the belt.
“They always have teeth,” laughed one of them who went by Dunn, slightly younger but just as scarred as the rest of them.
Luke steeled himself, did a quick pass with the back of his hand along her front and said, “That’s it. She’s clean.”
It was a kind of irony that there was just as much disapproval coming from the crew as from Mara though the Force.
“That’s it? You don’t like women?” Bareth squinted at him.
Luke flashed him a cold look and shrugged. “I like ‘em fine. I don’t like an audience.”
“That so?” There was a manic gleam in his eyes. “Let’s be sure she’s clean. Strip her.”
Luke opened his mouth to object, and surreptitiously, Mara brought the heel of her foot on his boot, again blaring disapproval through the Force.
But she screeched, “No!” twisting away from him when he grimly peeled off her shirt. Hard to see this woman as Mara when she darted away awkwardly and tripped, landing on her back, when she crawled forward, forcing him to straddle her legs to get her boots and then her pants off. The wave of revulsion made his hands clumsy so the whole thing took twice as long. As it was, he latched himself to Mara’s irritation through the Force -- it was the only thing that made it tolerable.
The woman in front of him brought her arms around herself, her braid had loosened and her dark hair half-covered her face. She scooted into the wall once he was done and brought her knees up against her chest. She might even have been shaking, and the whole thing made Luke feel like complete slime, but Mara through the Force was aggravated as if the only problem with it was that it was taking too much blasted time.
“This does it for you?” Luke asked Bareth with a nonchalance he didn’t feel.
The crew laughed.
“Thin, but not bad,” was Enif’s appraisal. Barrel shaped himself, he was in no position to be evaluating anyone, but self-awareness was not any of the pirates’ strong suit. To the woman--Mara, Luke told himself and it still didn’t fit-- Enif barked, “You got a name?”
Mara didn’t answer. She hid her face and Luke’s stomach turned some more.
“Kind of like a rugger ain’t she?” Dunn laughed, bringing up the small, fluffy rodents that Coruscati elite had started keeping as pets. “We should call her that.”
“Rugger.” Bareth bent down to look at her. “How do you like it, girl?”
She didn’t answer.
“So who gets her tonight?” the tallest one of them, Mahas, asked.
Her head snapped up, but there was no surprise from Mara through the Force. Tension, but no fear.
Luke swallowed down a brief burst of anger, related, but not immediately linked to the present situation. One thing was hearing about the sordid things that happened outside the bounds of law, witnessing it was another matter entirely.
“Why the long face, Stonn?” Mahas' eyes raked over him with distaste. Of all the pirates, he seemed to harbor the most hostility to Luke.
“I found her,” Luke put in quickly. Mara’s feelings shifted in his direction. Anticipatory, waiting for his move.
Bareth turned to him, considering. “He’s got a point.”
Mahas twisted his face into a sneer. “C’mon, this space ape’s also been with us for two days. We’re giving him a bonus now?”
A scruffy man his age with a deep scar that went down his cheek, snorted. “You frisked her like inspecting cargo, Stonn. Why don’t you leave the girl to someone who can use her right?” He leered at Mara, who backed even more against the wall drawing her knees even tighter into her chest.
Mahas laughed. “Arten should get her.”
Her Force presence had gone silent. Concerned, Luke reached towards her getting...nothing. He strengthened his probe a bit more, an image of a locket emerged in his mind and, just as quickly, it vanished. She was shielding, but even in that image he still sensed no fear in her. Only...quiet resolve. Calculation, perhaps. It had been too fast to get much more detail.
He was sensing the pirates’ growing curiosity on him though. Luke scraped some imaginary dirt from a fingernail. “Tell you what, Arten, I’ll flip you for her.”
Arten scowled at him.
“Don’t tell me you’re still sore about all the credits I won from you yesterday.” Luke gave him a sidelong glance. “Don’t you carry a lucky coin? Let’s have it.”
Arten narrowed his eyes at him, but procured a coin from a pocket of his vest. He flipped it, was about to catch it, but a slight nudge through the Force, and he missed. The coin rolled on the floor and spun.
Luke met Arten’s eyes. “Can I call it already?”
“That’s the oddest--”
He made an impatient grunt as Dunn crouched to get it. A quick shift in Luke’s perception via the Force and he was staring down at the coin through Dunn’s eyes.
“Heads,” he said, coming back to himself.
Luke's gaze returned to Mara. Her eyes were already on him, from under the fall of her hair, catlike and momentarily fascinated. Her curiosity washed over him, and that was something he hadn’t sensed from her before. He stifled an urge to grin thinking, training. She caught herself quickly and dropped her head, hiding her eyes again, curiosity changing to annoyance.
The pirate made a disgusted sound. “One of these days I’ll find out your trick, Stonn. What will you have her do? Take your clothes down to the laundry drop? Kriffin’ waste.”
Luke ignored him. Of all of the pirates, predictably it was Mahas’ hostility that took precedence, but there were no signs of danger. Not yet, anyway.
He went to get Mara’s holdout blaster as the pirates grumbled, then casually palmed the blades, the holster, and her belt. None of the pirates reacted, to his relief. Walking over to Mara, he jerked his chin up at her. “Up.”
More impatience from Mara greeted him. Luke steeled himself again, forcibly hauling her up with his free hand. Mara let out a decidedly un-Mara like squeak, and Luke pushed her out in front of him. She teetered a little on her feet.
“Unless you want to stay with these clowns...” he forced himself to say.
“My clothing.” Her voice was small and shaky.
Luke turned in the direction of the discarded clothing. Mara sent a very pointed warning, which he ignored in favor of making a show of getting only her boots.
The pirates chortled.
He held the boots out to her.
Mara blinked with a panicked confusion he'd never seen in her face. Through the Force, her disapproval had died down. "But..."
Luke pulled them back. "You want to go barefoot?"
"No," she mumbled. "No."
He dropped the boots right in front of her and she scrambled to get them on.
"Shoulda made her ask nicely," Arten called behind him and he swallowed down the rise of anger.
"If I need your advice, I'll ask." He turned back to Mara whose face was still half hidden by her lowered head as she stood. "You done there?"
With an inward wince, he gave a her light shove, squarely in the middle of her back. "Move." The almost-tumble was a bit of fancy footwork he recognized from when she’d sparred against his remotes in Wayland. Luke released a breath he didn’t know he was holding, grasped her arm, and pulled her out of the room.
--
They had no sooner taken one step out of the supply room than Skywalker's hand fell from her and he took three steps away from her as if he'd just remembered she had some sort of contagious disease. His eyes though, kept seeking hers. They didn’t speak, but his presence in the Force was approaching intrusive as it went over her. Mara was not all that confident in her abilities to sort out emotions through the Force, but she was familiar enough with Skywalker's concern to recognize it. He was worried.
But the answer was not that lackluster performance. Mara fought the urge to slam a hand on her forehead in frustration as she closed the distance between them slightly. The pirates could still come out of the room, or someone else could happen upon them, and details were always what sold a cover.
What in the world was Skywalker, of all people, doing with the pirates of the Jackal, anyway -- and masquerading as one of them, no less. This was nothing Mara had ever thought he’d get pulled into.
“Who sent you?” she asked as soon as the door to his cabin had slid shut, quickly taking stock of the room. Even though, she'd stayed in her share of tight spaces, she couldn't help but be taken aback by the narrowness of the cabin. It had most likely been a small storeroom that had been converted to part of the crew quarters complete with a door a few feet away that Mara supposed led to a rudimentary ‘fresher. That brought it up to borderline luxury as far as pirates were concerned. The Jackal might be the same class of bulk freighter as the Wild Karrde, but its layout was far different. She'd studied the specs, of course, but it was impossible to know the extent of a ship's modifications until you were actually on it.
Skywalker's back was to her as he looked through some storage compartments above his bunk. “Nice to see you too, Mara,” he muttered. He’d left her weapons on top of the desk just a few scant feet from the bunk and she immediately went for them.
“Who?” This didn’t seem like the kind of thing a Jedi would get involved with. Last she heard Skywalker was playing Questions Three with various Senate committees trying to cobble together a suitable proposal to present to the New Republic’s Senate for a Jedi academy. It sounded time consuming and just about as much fun as programming a cleaning droid. She sat on the bunk to wrangle the interior sheaths of the vibroblades into two thigh holsters through a strap tucked within the sheath.
Skywalker turned to her, tossing something her way and she dropped the sheaths on her lap to catch it. “NRI,” he answered. She looked at the object she’d caught. A shirt. His shirt.
She knitted her brow, raising her eyes towards him.
It was impossible that there was color rising on his face. This was who they sent on an undercover job?
“You do know you’re only wearing underwear.”
Mara looked down and snorted. “But I didn’t know I was offending your delicate sensibilities.” Luke turned around as she pulled the shirt on. NRI must be in worse shape than Karrde thought. She strapped the blade holsters on, and fastened her forearm holster.
“What about you? Did Karrde send you?”
“Who else?”
“Why?” he asked without any hesitation whatsoever. “Smuggler’s Alliance business?”
Mara leaned back on her forearms. “You first.”
Skywalker didn’t pause then either. “Intelligence thinks the gang is going to pick up a shipment of Lowickan firegems at some point this week,” he answered as if she’d asked him what he had for lunch.
“Firegems.” She made a mental note to highlight that tidbit when she sent her report to Karrde. The chemical instability and excess radiation of the firegems made them convenient weapons to bring down anything from a snubfighter to a Mon Cal cruiser. “That’s serious alright.” She cocked her head, she had one side of the equation down, but the other.... “More serious than Jedi academy business?” A vague possibility flitted into her head. “Did you volunteer for this?”
He looked away, but before he did she caught the shadow of a smile.
“You did, didn’t you?” Mara came close to a laugh. “You were bored!”
“I wouldn’t say bored,” he corrected, coming over to sit beside her. “Just wanting to be of service.”
She flashed him a skeptical look. “Bored.”
His smile faded a little. “I thought we'd have settled on a training schedule by now.”
Mara sat up and spread her hands. “I tried.”
“You never contacted me again.”
“Bad timing," she offered. "It was too complicated to schedule.”
“I rearranged my schedule.” There was something faintly accusing in his voice that she didn't like.
She waved a hand. “Later -- when things get less hectic.”
"You know, if you --"
"Later," she said firmly.
Skywalker sighed, finally realizing he'd get nothing more from her on the topic. “So are you looking for the firegems too?”
Mara shook her head.
He waited. When she let the silence stretch he said, “You’re seriously not going to tell me? After I helped you back there?”
Mara put up a hand, narrowing her eyes. “Wait, wait. Helped me? The only reason I got caught was that you were here. Not to mention, all the times you nearly blew my cover. Seriously, Skywalker leave infiltration to the professionals.” He was looking dutifully chagrined. “And what was that mind trick? Creepy.”
“You shook it off pretty easily. It’s the first time I’ve tried it. The hair,” he gestured to the mussed black braid that streamed down her back.
“What about it?” Her hand went to it and she pulled off the tie to pull it into a bun.
“It’s weird.”
“You really know how to flatter a girl,” she retorted wryly.
“No. The hair and the behavior--”
“It’s called acting,” she leaned over to whisper.
Faint irritation crossed over his features. “It’s...convincing.”
The corner of her mouth tipped. She thought that was a probably a Skywalker thing, but, sure, she’d take it as a compliment.
He was frowning at her. “You’re really not going to tell me why you’re here?”
She pushed herself off the bunk. “Where do you keep your tools?”
There was the slightest pause. “Left storage compartment.” He stood, walked over leaning beside her to get them, so close that his shoulder brushed hers. “Here.” He handed her a box. She took it to the bed, pulling out a screwdriver. She went to the small desk beside it, climbed on it to unscrew the panel of the vent.
“What are you doing?”
Mara didn’t spare him a look. “Going to get my stuff.”
“I’m coming with you.”
The final screws came loose and the panel dropped into one of her hands. "Why?" Mara asked, holding the screwdriver with her mouth as she sliding the panel down to the desk with both hands, dropping the screwdriver beside it.
“Two heads are better than one.”
“My head is more than enough.” She got on her tiptoes to look into the darkened shaft, thinking about the schematics she'd gone over.
“What if they catch you?”
She'd need a glow rod. “They're not going to catch me in a ventilation shaft. You have any small glow rods?"
“They did last time.”
“No, you did,” she replied with a pointed look back at him, her patience straining. “This isn’t the first time I’ve done this, Skywalker. What’s with the paranoia?” She threw him an incredulous look. “It’s an act. Not real. Get me a glow rod, will you?” She climbed down from the desk.
He didn’t reply, just looked at her with that vaguely disappointed expression before fishing around the box of tools for one and handing it to her. Mara blew out a breath. From the way he looked at her, she almost expected him to pull it away from her like he had with the boots -- unless she agreed to have him come along -- but he didn't. Her hand closed around the light stick, his let go, and it was hers.
That should have been the end of that, but she found herself reevaluating. Skywalker had proven his use in a pinch, even if he was the worst actor she’d ever seen. Not that she seriously thought she'd need him for anything.
She wasn't going to waste time overthinking it. “Fine," she grunted, getting up on the desk again. "They better not come looking for you.”
"They won’t. My next shift doesn’t start for a bit over an hour. You’re not going that far, are you?"
“No.” Mara pulled up the shirt to stick the glow rod through the side of one of the thigh holsters, smirking at how he looked everywhere but at her. She got back on the desk, lifting and dragging herself up into the vent in one arduous pull, continuing to climb up with the same determination. She crawled up further into the shaft, breathing a bit hard at the exertion, feeling the burn in her arms and waited for Skywalker. She was definitely out of practice, regardless how much she'd tried to get back up to speed after Wayland. By contrast, it took Skywalker no time at all and he seemed more relaxed than anyone should after the climb.
"Did you use the Force?" she asked, pulling out the glow rod and flicking it on.
He looked at her like she’d asked something obvious. “Didn’t you?”
She rolled her eyes. “No. Let’s go. Try not to enjoy the view too much.” It was really too bad it was too dark to see his expression, but there was definitely something she was getting through the Force. She grinned. So that's what embarrassment felt like.
--
Luke had been in more uncomfortable situations that he could count, but crawling across a ventilation shaft looking up at Mara Jade’s underwear-clad posterior the entire time took the cake as the most...he even lacked the word, strangest? No. Confounding? Not that either. Bizarre? Maybe.
Mara herself had not one trace of self consciousness about the whole thing. Her amusement was palpable enough to begin a slow grate at him.
Luke forced his thoughts back to the metal under his hands and knees, senses alert to the crew of the ship, they were mostly around the crew lounge areas. He gathered the room they were heading towards was at the end of the ship so they’d be clear.
He looked up again, seeing the shadows play across the back of her thigh. He should be thinking of how she’d refused to tell him why she was here. He should be thinking that she hadn’t contacted him after he had painstakingly fixed things so he could train her. He should not be thinking about her skin. He was definitely not thinking about her skin. Mara was a friend -- and not just any friend for that matter -- a friend with a loaded past.
“We’re almost there,” she announced.
A different light from the glow rod was up ahead and he saw Mara jump down to a shelf. He followed, realizing they were in one of the supply rooms. Mara went to a bag under one of the storage compartments, pulled out a satchel.
“When did you join them?” she asked, undoing the forearm holster. Her hand went to pulling his shirt off and he immediately turned away. He didn’t turn back towards her until he heard her zip up the flightsuit.
“A couple of days ago.”
“At Manaan?" She restrapped the forearm holster and slipped on a jacked she'd pulled out from the bag. "For hire? NRI give you the contact?”
He nodded. “That’s where you hitched a ride too, no?” He wasn’t sure what all the subterfuge was about. “You’re really not going to tell me why you’re here?”
Mara was packing some tools, her datapad and the lightsaber from the bag into the satchel. Seeing the lightsaber -- hers now -- brought a smile to his face. Her eyes darted towards him, discomfort flashing and she slammed the satchel closed.
She drew out one last object that she tossed his way.
Luke’s hand closed around it automatically -- a hololocket. He opened it and a girl of maybe twenty took form, staring back with a bright smile.
“Meyna Vir. Daughter of Xellosan Vir.”
“The Baron.” Luke closed the locket. The name was familiar through Leia and her dealings with the Coruscanti upper class. He handed it back to Mara.
“Meyna was kidnapped by the gang.” She put the locket away into her satchel. “Vir contacted Karrde to find out what happened to her after he wasn’t contacted about a ransom. They go way back and he's a key contact, so Karrde called in a couple of favors. Turns out Deimos knows all the procurers of the finer things.”
Luke gazed at her, dread seeping into him. “The crime lord?”
Mara nodded. “Hostage-taking and flesh trade is one of the specialties of the Jackal’s crew. Deimos brokers any women they get.” Her mouth formed a thin line. “Nothing anyone can track down, of course.” She paused, a puzzled look on her face. “NRI didn’t brief you about it?”
He shook his head. “The files only mentioned weapons smuggling. And Meyna?”
“Deimos claims never seeing her.”
Luke’s face fell. “Is that a lie? Could it be?”
“It’s been confirmed by several people in his organization close to him. Meyna was never sighted there. The last anyone knew she’d been picked up by this crew, but she wasn't seen after.”
“So Karrde sent you to find her.”
Mara shook her head. “No. I’m here to find out what happened. Meyna has been missing for almost a month.” She slung the satchel across one shoulder and made her way back to the shelf to climb up again. “She’s probably dead.”