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The planet was nearly all snow and ice, it had looked like the surface had been made of crystals as Cassian approached. He felt dread sink in at the prospect of reaching the frozen surface; he hated the cold. It had three orbiting moons, each glowing like jewels. As Cassian passed them he reviewed his cover. He flipped the flimsy counterfeit papers between his finger and thumb: Vaj Danigo. He was a black market dealer and mercenary selling stolen imperial goods and weapons to Neros, a mid-tier crime boss in the outer rim. Cassian was only a middle-man in the operation and did not know why the alliance needed to do business with this man, but he knew that he was hurting the empire, and understood the importance of covering his alliance affiliation. His cover if the imps caught him was a simple travelling salesman, he hoped he would not have to deal with this, as it would be hard to pass off the 50 pounds of imperial labeled crates in the back of his cruiser.
Soon he was orbiting the planet. It glowed like a piece of Kyber hanging in the black sky, so much he had to squint as he made the descent into the atmosphere. He could not deny it was beautiful.
When he entered the atmosphere and passed the layer of cloud its glowing pale surface turned corpse like. The sight was ghostlike, familiar in a way that made his stomach flip in on itself. The crystalline surface that had glowed through the thick clouds encasing the planet, gave way to deep crevices, salt mines, deep red, like bright bleeding wounds. The white and red surface gave way to a deep ocean, it both swallowed and reflected light like a sheet of thick black glass. Cassian had heard stories of massive mammals, the largest creatures in the galaxy sliding under the cold dark waters. Kenari had been home to oceans too, though they were turquoise and foggy, polluted by the dust from the quarries. Still the misty sea had provided a warm salt breeze, much different from the stinging cold that struck him when he left his ship.
Here the smell of salt and smoke followed everyone. Even in the night he walked past hot coal fires, large pink and silver fish cooking over them. Sentients, mostly human men, surrounded these fires, drinking, laughing, all wrapped in layers of fur and synthetic wool to keep out the sub-zero chill. The fish and the smoke and the salt overwhelmed him as he searched for his meeting point. It was a brothel in a small mining town. He entered, immediately hit by warm vapor, smoke, and the smell of sweat. He found a booth in the back corner of the club, he lit a cigarette, to keep his hands busy without having to order a drink. It was too warm. The seats were made of a mix of stone and metal, rusting in the condensation that gathered from the overworked heaters. The steam mixed with sweet smoke that seeped from nearly every patron’s pipes and mouths regardless of their species. Cassian settled in, this was familiar, watching, waiting and admittedly absently enjoying the feeling of the smoke drifting over his lips and the way it caught the dim green whaleoil lamplight. He cocks his head, listening to the conversations around him, a mix of imperial basic and Crait. Crait was a funny language, guttural and drawn out, he enjoyed the sound of it, though his lack of understanding made him nervous. He hadn’t met many people from Crait. To the empire they were both nearly mythic and obsolete. A warrior people that hunted the ice planes and wore the skin of wolves. A people who was losing their home in systematic chunks whose home planet would most likely be completely unstable within a decade. Cassian blew out more smoke and cleared his mind, thoughts like that would not help him much tonight. Through the haze of smoke and steam the outline of a man appeared, at first Cassian tensed, slid his palm over the hilt of his blaster under the table, the man’s features took shape and he reached out.
“Danigo?”
Cassian intentionally went at ease, though he kept his hand on his blaster.
“That’s me.” He answered. Letting his eyes settle on the man before him, his buyer, he could tell, from the description he was given. The two spoke, though there was little to discuss, “Danigo” was walking away with a small fortune, smaller than the shipment was worth, he knew, and the satisfaction of having complicated things for the imps and his orders having been fulfilled. The crime boss: Neros, who also could spare no love for the imperials, was walking away with a hefty load of technology. They both had gained a valuable new, if undercover, connection. Cassian was told to ensure this. He seemed to have succeeded and was very much ready to be on his way after the exchange. Nero had his men begin to unload the ship, a fact that made Cassian nervous but was unavoidable.
“Stay a bit, enjoy the amenities!" The man offered, as his men began their work. Charisma dripped off his words as he cast his hands to the side, welcoming “Danigo” in.
Cassian, hand still on his blaster, was not put at ease, but knew it would only serve to be impolite to refuse. It was harmless enough. This was not a safe place, but there was no logic in harming Cassian, especially as he had become a valuable asset.
“If you insist, my friend.” He answered with the same charismatic fervor. The man cast a glance back and whistled at a passing employee.
“Bring the new one.”
He left and came back, a young girl following him. He couldn’t see her face at first, only a plume of long dark hair, haloed in frizz, illuminated by the sickly green lamp light and her slight, sharp form outlined against the passing shadows of the rest of the club. She stopped a few feet from where Cassian sat. Her back was straight set, there is a dull metal collar around her throat, a chain falls down her chest, past her hair that falls to just below her hips, and drags on the ground. The light from the table allowed Cassian to see her fully. She had a soft, round face, but with sharp hungry cheekbones. Her skin was a smooth olive scattered with freckles and black markings of some kind, crossing over the wide bridge of her nose. But it was her eyes, big circular, deep brown, that made his blood run cold. She was so clearly Crait, from the shade of her skin to the texture of her hair to the markings running over her soft flat nose. But those eyes… Cassian knew about eyes like that. They whispered like the warm salty breeze moving through lush large leaves. They dripped with sweet fruit and the sound of children’s laughter. That warm, deep, brown, a mirror of his own Kenari eyes.
“Beautiful little one, yes?”
Cassian allowed himself a low hum in agreement, his stomach churning at the thought of her here, in this place.
“She’s new, never been with a man.” Cassian can see her fear, her desire to shift from foot to foot, but she stays perfectly still. Straight backed, soldier-like. “We’ve checked” he throws in the last bit like it's a joke. Cassian does not, can not react. If he did he would be leaving a blaster burn in the Crime boss’s skull. So instead he stares at her tattoo, just below her eyes, only a simple line. Suddenly he’s feeling his own grubby fingers, painting a line on his neck, remembering the older children, painting their faces with Kohl. He switches to stare at her freckled cheeks instead, those are safe enough.
The boss does not seem to mind his lack of reaction. He whispers something low to her, she pauses, does not react. He makes a clicking sound in the back of his throat then tugs on the chain that hangs from her throat and extends it to Cassian. “She’s a bit slow.” he says, tapping his head with his finger. “But it shouldn’t matter much” His hand is still extended and Cassian understands that he’s trying to get him to take the chain. He feels like he’ll vomit, he’s not squeamish, he’s seen what life is like for some sentients. How debasing it can be. He also knows there's nothing inherently wrong about taking the chain from him, but everything in him objects. Still, he takes it, the metal is cool in his hand. “There are personal suits just to the side, enjoy yourself my friend!”
“How much?” Cassian asks, searching for a reason to say no.
“You’ve paid in your goods my friend! Let me secure friendly relations, show you my hospitality! You show her how to please.”
Cassian knew how important this relationship could be, but oh was it disgusting, he did not know what his business entailed when he sold. He only did what he was told to do. He stands, there are little booth-like sections to the side of the bar, one is open, a small circular couch in the center, there is enough room there for what is done, but not much else. Cassian leads the girl inside and pulls closed the soft gauze-like fabric curtain, to give them a bit of privacy. The girl stands, Cassian has dropped her chain so it drags on the floor. She is thin he can see now, a girl who has known hunger. The thin chain drops between her breasts which are covered only by her long thick black hair and a slip of nearly translucent brown cloth, falling just above her mid thigh. He’s lost sight of her face, now all he can see of her is silhouette and shape. He prefers this. He knows what he will not do to her, but he still would rather avoid those eyes. There is music outside enough that Cassian is not worried about being heard, the issue is being seen. He sits on the couch. He supposed he could just sit with her. Maybe even just hold her, so that if the boss walked by it would look like he was fulfilling his end of the deal and ‘teaching’.
“Come here.” he reaches out beckoning her toward him. She obeys, walking tentatively over. He slides two hands on either side of her hips, gentle enough that she could push him away. “Sit.” She obeys, sitting on his lap. He can feel her heart start to beat faster and faster beneath his hands. She is terrified. “Don’t be scared. Ceunino” The word slips off his tongue before he can even consider it. The rest of his sentence, explaining his intention, dies on his tongue. Ceunino… little one… He had not heard the word in so long, off the tongue of his mother, whose face he could not remember, only her voice, only scattered moments. What he’d use when carefully picking up the little lizards that were everywhere when he was young. Their squirming blue bodies cool between his fingers, their wet black eyes staring up at him. his sister running to him, reaching for him, Kassa!
He was so surprised at the onslaught of memories that he did not see the shiv in her hand till she was swiping it toward his stomach. He was still wearing his jacket, the makeshift knife caught in the thick leather. He grabbed her wrist and pushed her off of him, his other hand immediately on his blaster. She drove the heel of her hand into his stomach, knocking the air out of him. He recovered quickly, grabbing both of her arms and pulling her back into his chest. “Stop.” he hissed into her ear. He knew the consequences for her hurting him would be significantly worse than his for hurting her, regardless of her intentions. She was small and quick but not as strong as him. As she bucked against him he wondered loosely if she was imperial, if this was an assasination. Her makeshift knife made him doubt this. Suddenly she bit down hard on the meat of his wrist where his jacket sleeve had slid up on his arm. In shock and pain he reeled backwards. She dived for the blaster at his hip. The commotion has drawn the attention of a guard, who pulled open the curtain. Cassian registers him, but keeps his attention mostly on the girl. She holds the blaster steady, now trained on him as the guard trained his on the girl. Cassian sees her flinch at the sounds of the guards and he makes a split second decision, dropping to her level, before dodging to the side and reaching for her wrist. He is able to grab the blaster by the barrel as she fires a shot into the wall behind him, and in one fluid motion draws it back and drives the hilt into her face, knocking her out cold. The blaster burns his hand and he drops it, grabbing it with the non burnt hand and resheaving it.
The boss has come into view, he’d been watching since Cassian had gotten the upper hand.
“Little viper! I’m sorry my friend, she has been so well behaved.”
“Just nerves I bet.”
‘I will teach her the way we treat guests here. Let me give you a room my friend, on the house, take a rest, I’ll send more suitable entertainment your way.”
“She’s young, I must’ve spooked her,” He begins, searching for something to ease the trouble she’ll receive. “Maybe I could make a better second impression.” That part is a joke, and Cassian hopes it is taken that way. A smile creeps over the boss's face, it sends a chill up Cassian's spine.
“That can be arranged.”
Cassian is given a small stone room for the night, there is a little fireplace and the floor is covered with soft fur pelts. The sickly green oil light is gone, replaced by warm yellow light. It is colder, far away from the hot steam and bodies packed close of the main bar. So Cassian sits by the fire, slipping off his jacket and trying to think of how to get off planet as politely and quickly as possible. The door opens, his hand goes back instinctively to his blaster. The boss enters, chain in hand, pulling the girl from before behind him. There is a line of welts forming across her face from where Cassian had hit her, guilt stings him. Her arms are now bound behind her back and a muzzle has been placed over her soft lips. Her stare is hard, accusatory, a cowardly part of him wishes that the boss had blindfolded her as well.
“ Here is your little viper. She will be good for you.”
Cassian forces a laugh, “My friend, I trust you. But how can I trust our little viper not to bite.” he asks, willing this to end, for him to be relieved of those dark eyes and freshly formed welts.
The boss laughed and pushed the girl to her knees, she fell to the cold stone and Cassian suppressed a wince, sure that that would leave a bruise. The boss pulls her by her hair exposing her neck and shoots something into the vein there, she tenses all at once and he lets her go. She spasms for a moment, like she is being electrocuted. ‘My friend, she will be begging for your cock soon.”
“Oh really?” he asks, trying not to think of electricity and cuffs.
“She will die without it.” He chuckles “teach her, my friend, what happens to little bitches who bite”
He then leaves and Cassian is again alone with this girl, who is kneeling beside the closed door, shivering. He extends a hand to her again, ‘come here.’ he repeats, motioning for her to come to where he is sitting beside the fire. She does not react. Perhaps there is a language barrier, Cassian considers for the first time. Cassian knows no Crait so there is not much he can do for her there. He beckons her again to him, silently this time. She does not react. Or maybe she is a bit slow as the boss had said. Maybe she is just proud. Either way Cassian will not force her to be warm. He begins to go through his bag, checking for recording devices, poisons, anything that could’ve been lifted when he wasn’t looking. All while keeping her in his sights from the corner of his eye, just in case she decided she wanted him dead again. She had begun to shake, as if with fever, her body keeling forward so her head was on the ground, hips pulled back. Cassian heard the metal muzzle scrape against the stone ground. It is that which causes Cassian to give up his disinterested pretence and just watch. Her muscles rippled below her soft olive skin on her back, puffy lines, criss crossing over that soft skin. It is like she is fighting some unseen force. Her hips move, trying desperately to relieve the pain that has taken over her body. Her body is wracked in shakes, sweat dripping down her arms, thighs, as she tries desperately to stay still despite it all. Cassian thinks of what the boss said. Could he relieve her pain? At the end of an hour she has slumped on the floor, exhausted, while the shakes continue to periodically visit, as if she is being fried from the inside.. Cassian could not bear it, would she really die? What a horrible, humiliating death. He moves to her, checks her pulse yet again, her skin is clammy and her heart beats far too quick.
“Can you hear me?” he asks. Her eyes flutter open. Those damn brown eyes. His fingers graze the muzzle. “I’m going to take this off, and you are not going to bite me.”
He finds the lock and is able to open it with a click, releasing her soft lips to the cold air. They are slightly parted and wet. His hand is still beside her face and she leans into his palm, grazing his calloused skin with her lips, not to bite, no, just lightly sucking. He hardens in his pants and it feels like a betrayal. He picks her up and carries her to the hearth, placing her down on the pelt. Her eyes are heavy set, staring deep into him from where she kneels, lips parted, and he has to remind himself that she doesn’t really want him. It is simply the drug that has been forced on her. He stands, unbuckling his belt. She leans in, her forehead hitting his thigh, runs her mouth across his pants fabric. He reaches down, fingers grazing her soft dark hair, “Give me a moment, Cuenino”. She looks up at him, her smattering of freckles are interrupted by the line of welts he left, it intersects with the simple black line that details across the bridge of her nose. He had Bacta gel on his ship, he curses himself now for not bringing it in. Her skin is the colour of dark rich honey in the flickering fire light and shines with sweat. Her eyes are filled with unshed tears, pleading with him. He drops back to the ground again and reaches for her, he slides his hands under her soft slip, she shivers but does not shy away. He lifts her by her hips and slots his own between her spread legs. She slides easily onto him so tight around him, that he has to take a moment to focus so that he is not overwhelmed by her soft heat. She had never been touched before, the boss had said. Cassian never cared about the history of his partners, he hated the way he had heard men talk about women, commodifying their inexperience. The way they would talk about the ‘tight’ young virgins they would fuck and then leave. It made him angry. Cassian certainly did not care, but he remembered as he entered her, he felt her intake of breath on his chest, saw pain flicker over her features, that this is her first time. The responsibility of this hit him as her head fell into his chest. His hand came up to cradle the back of her skull, and he rested his nose in her hair, she smelled like salt, charred wood, and something sweet. His own first time had been with Bix, he remembered it well. It had been clumsy, awkward, too much teeth and too short, but it had been his choice. It had been with a girl that he had loved, that he still had so much love for, that was his age. This girl was young, not too young to be held like this, but too young to be held by him, of that he felt sure. She should get to discover, to fumble nervously, excitedly, She shook again, her skin still feverish. He began to move, to relieve the pain he hoped, keeping one firm grip on her hip bone. The other caressing her soft dark hair “You’re safe, Duenino” Sweet one… His mother’s voice was soft in his head. He wondered distantly if the girl he was holding was clinging to her own mother’s voice for comfort as well. Or perhaps she is imagining someone else, steadily fucking her, playing with her hair, someone she loved, that she would willingly give herself over to. He hoped, whatever the case, that in her head she was safe. That she was distant from her violated body. As distant as she could be. He was steady in his movements, not slow exactly. He had done this enough that he knew where to hit, so that she would melt into his chest.
She was pulling herself closer to him, finding purchase with her feet and clumsily fucking him back. He bent over her, so she could lay on the soft pelt, his hand still cradling the back of her head, and fucked her hard. He was steady, quick. With her hands still bound behind her back all she could do was buck her hips into his. He snuck a glance at her, his breath stopping in his throat. Her deep brown eyes were blown wide and her long hair splayed out, a wild thing, freckles and bright red wounds. She looked older, stronger, maybe he thought distantly, that was his subconscious just trying to ease his guilt.
Her lips parted, pink. He desperately wanted to kiss her. Unnecessary to provide relief as it was. He leaned in and caught her lips, kissing her softly, in contrast to the harshness of his hips. It was clumsy, her mouth too open, but he did not mind, her lips were soft, and tasted sweet on his tongue. All at once he tasted the nectar of kenari fruit, though he knew it was absolutely just the cheap sweet syrup from the bar. Guilt set back in when he considered that this was likely her first kiss, but he justified it as an important part of intimacy. He would’ve been unkind to fuck her like this and not kiss her. In the same line of thought he slides a hand from where he was gripping her hip down to her center and slips his fingers between her soft folds, circling her clit. Soon after, much sooner than he expected, she is reaching a climax, he holds her tight and does not stop, continuing to kiss her slow and gentle, and fuck her deep and quick. She gasps into his mouth as it passes, and falls apart, malleable and soft like wet red kenari clay. She is shaking and there are tears in her eyes, he slows but doesn’t stop. The tears stream down her freckled cheeks, over her tattoos, and wounds, he’s sure they must sting. She looks so young, bound and silently weeping. So much of him wants to pull away so much of him wants to hold her tighter, to comfort her, to promise her she will never be hurt again. He kisses her cheeks, her tears taste like the sea. “Forgive me, buenino” good one… She looks up at him with soft watery eyes, eyes that look so much like his own.
“Please,” She whispers.
Desperate for relief from her gaze and the pressure building inside of him, he leans in and kisses her on the neck just above the metal collar, sucking on her soft flesh gently, not enough to mark, just to help him focus. He can taste her. Sweet and salty, like fruit dipped in the sea. He is consumed again with memories of warm air, little blue lizards, his sister’s face… Kassa! He has to break away, he feels tears in the corners of his eyes. He can’t do this. He tries again, for relief this time looking up into the dark corner of the room, he tries to focus only on the sensation of her skin under his, her warmth around him. He needs pain, he needs a firm hand around his throat, or pulling at his hair, he needs teeth. She latches her lips onto his neck and sucks on his skin. Not a kiss exactly. She sucks hard, hard enough to bruise and he is pulled back down into her. His eyes now screwed shut to avoid hers. As if she has read his mind she sucks his skin into her teeth, and bites down hard. Pain shoots through his neck and he is immediately cumming deep inside of her with a strangled cry. Her teeth stay, clamped down, It feels like a punishment, her only weapon available to her. He wants to let her hold on, to let her bleed him dry. She lets go, almost immediately. He half expects to see blood in her teeth when he looks down, but there is none. Her face is slack, tear tracks drying and sweat cooling on her skin. He pulls out and braces himself on his arm so he does not fall and crush her. He lays the backside of his other hand gently on her forehead, to confirm that her fever had passed. She had stopped shaking, her body now laying silently on the pelt. Her hands are still bound behind her causing her back to arch, the slip pushed up to above her belly button, and down to below her soft breasts, his cum is dripping from her soft sweet brown folds and onto her thighs. He fixes the top of her slip first, dragging it over her chest and stands, grabs a cloth from the fresher and cleans her up, focusing singularly on his task to keep from her face or her exposed skin. When he is done, he pulls the bottom of her slip down, over her sex. He takes another pelt and lays it over her, both for warmth and to preserve her dignity, stretching it up to her chin as if she is a child he is putting to bed. The action again reminds him of his sister, a thought he knows should disgust him in the context, but he is too exhausted for that particular brand of self disgust. He does not hold her. He knows, like the kisses and the pleasure, that he should. She deserves to be held after her first time, but he can’t bear to force her to touch him past what is necessary. So he simply pulls the pelt tighter around her and plants a soft kiss into the hair, above her ear “Forgive me, Cuenino,” he says again. She just stares at him, dark eyes soft, but murky. A little like the frogs that he would pick off of the walls of their shelter on kenari. Twisted beautiful little things, long gone. He wondered about her home, it was hard to imagine such beauty surviving on the frozen planet. He got up and redressed. The boss walked in while he was rebuckling his belt. And announced himself with a low whistle.
“I see you’ve broken our little viper in.”
Cassian can see the girl tense from where she lays on the pelts. He needs to get her out.“How much?”
“I’ve told you my friend, it's just a little hospitality free of charge!”
“How much to take her with me?”
The boss smiles, sensing an opportunity to bargain. “3,000”
More than Cassian has. He looks over at her again, she’s staring at nothing, hopeless. He needs it lower, “oh my friend she’s not worth that you know it.”
He chuckles. “She’s new, young, 1,000”
“She’s not a good whore, my friend, too timid, she breaks too easy, 350”
“900 Why do you want her then?”
Cassian cannot afford any more than 700. “I like watching her break, she cries so pretty. 400”
“She could still make me a lot of money, 800”
“Not if she tries to kill everyone you let fuck her. 450” he’s staring at her now, Cassian knows he’s taking a risk, but he could really use the credits to re-fuel. “I’ll give you what's left once I finish with her.”
That draws a deep, almost warm, laugh out of the boss “you sick fuck,” its said with affection. Cassian forces a smile. “I get the sense she won’t be good for much after that, fine 450, keep her.”
Cassian casts a glance at her again, in the light of the fire he can see silent tears glistening on her cheeks, he remembers their taste, like the sea. He feels guilty over what was said, but reminds himself that she does not need to like him, he just needs to get her out and home.
“Spending the night?”
Cassian had no desire to be in the same room as the boss for even a moment longer. “Not tonight my friend, but I'll be seeing you again.” the boss reaches a hand out and they clasp arms. Cassian smiles, to cover the disgust he feels for the man who is touching him.
-----
She had felt instant relief in the little stone room, as the dark eyed man used her. The fire in the hearth cast golden light onto the soft white pelts, like a scene from her childhood, only the stone was the glowing ice of her home. She remembered her father, cooking silver fish over the flames and her mother weaving. She’d sit and warm herself when she was small, her many older siblings running through the home.
The man with the dark eyes had whispered lies into her ear, accent heavy on his tongue as he buried himself in her. His beard grazed her skin, unexpectedly soft like his lips. He promised her safety. Her pain started to ease and something else began to take its place. She’d never felt like that before, like the icy waves of her home were crashing over her. She couldn’t justify it. Shame and disgust rose in her, as she thought about how eager she had become in so little time, how willing she was to spread her legs once the pain had set in.
Even as she writhed on the cold stone floor, she swore she would’ve let it kill her but he had carried her so gently to the hearth and held her for longer than anyone has in years. Even as he ruined her he was so gentle. It hurt, everyone had told her it would, but it was so sweet too. She knew that once she was bound and he had her on her back she shouldn't have given herself over to it, she shouldn’t have enjoyed it. She shouldn’t have nestled in his chest, retreating to the scent of salt air and smoke. She shouldn’t have sucked on his soft throat, no matter how she enjoyed the taste of his flesh. She was surprised and thankful that he did not beat her after she’d bitten him.
Then he had wrapped her up so gently, nearly maternal, as he covered her in soft fur and kissed her head. No one had touched her like that since she was a child, since her mother had died. But when the man came back, the one who’d had her beaten and the one who'd stuck the burning liquid into her neck, the dark eyed man changed. He’d bought her for so little, she supposed she was always worth very little. Ift too had bought her from her father for a meager bride price, she was the youngest and far from the prettiest of his daughters. She was a hunter, with good eyes, and quick hands, but she was lean and hungry looking, boyish not the sort of girl that men thought of as a wife or a mother. She looked too much like her brother. She supposed it shouldn’t surprise her that her price is fairly low here too.
When it was decided the man returned to her side, placing a calloused, blaster burned hand on her shoulder, she flinched, I like watching her break. He drew his hand back “Can you stand for me?” the softness he spoke with when inside her was gone, replaced by a rough heaviness. Her legs were wobbly and she ached between her legs. Her slip had shifted again, the sight of herself made her feel over exposed and used. A whore. Just like the dark eyed man had said. He looked her over and quickly, without lingering, pulled her slip down to cover her as best it could. He adjusted the top too, as it was slipping off of her angular shoulders. He turned back to his abandoned blue parka that had covered the leather coat that he’d been wearing in the club. The parka was soon being draped around her, it was warm, soft, and she was overwhelmed all together by his smell, like she had been before, when they were a tangle of legs and she was hiding her face in his chest for comfort. He led her out of the room then, not by her chain as the mean man had but with a steady hand on her back, in between her shoulderblades and above the binding on her arms.
The salty air of her home planet permeates the air around the sealed doors, slicing through the humidity, soothing the remnants of fever that had slipped from her skin. It is real and clarifying. The man who owns her now picks her up, and carries her through the night toward a beat up ship. It is dark, clear skies, Crait’s three moons stare down at them like bright, hollow eyes. It is no longer snowing, Distantly she can hear the ocean, she does not allow herself to think that this is the last few moments in her home. She wished that she had shoes, so that she could touch the ground again, maybe for the last time. She cannot go home after this, even if she could manage to escape. She would be cast out. No one can survive the frozen planes of Crait alone. Exile is a death sentence. They enter the ship and the man puts her down. The ship is warm compared to the uncovered walk, but when she exhales she can still see her breath. She follows the man to the cockpit of the ship. Where he sits.
“Where is your home?” he asks, his accent is heavy, she does not know where from. She does not understand and fears answering, so she stares out the front window of the ship and imagines the eyes of Crait blinking at her, like in the folklore her mother would tell her as a child. The eyes stare her down, she was across the planet from her home, according to the position of the stars and the moons. “There must be someone missing you, mother, father, boyfriend, brother? Where is home?”
She does not say anything. Yes she is sure she is missed by her many siblings, her father’s wife, perhaps even Ift, the man that was to have her soon. But she cannot return home now. The man, with the dark eyes and the rough hands, and the soft voice, he has ruined her. If she went home now she’d only damn them to shame, there would be no way to hide it. The eyes of Crait stare down at her, condemning her. She would no longer be Crait. She knew well what happened to those cast out, even the strongest, their bodies found frozen in the ice on hunting trips, not even a proper burning. No, if she died in that way, with no burning rights, she would never see her mother again. Her spirit would be lost, stuck in the frozen air.
“I have places to be, I want to take you home. I don’t know how to get there. Help me” he speaks slowly, measured, like many people do to her, like she does not understand. He pauses, then stands, and rifles through a metal box of some kind beside the center console before going to her, a tool of some sort now in hand. He slides his parka off of her and drops it to the ground, revealing her bare shoulders. He is gentle, but the action still makes her flinch. He goes around to her back and she can feel that he is messing with the metal band binding her arms, though he does not touch her skin.
“I cannot go home.” She says, slowly, basic imperial still awkward on her tongue.
“No one left to return to?” She can hear him behind her.
“They will not want me.” she does not have the command of basic to explain this properly, she feels childish saying it.
“I am going to take this off and you are not going to attack me.” he says, like it is a fact. She nods. She no longer has a reason, what she had been trying to protect was now gone, taken by him. The metal eases from her skin and all at once she realizes how sore her shoulders have been. “Surely that’s not true. If there is someone at home, they must be missing you.” He gathers her hair gently and places it to one side so that he can begin to unscrew the collar she is wearing.
“I cannot go home.” she repeats again. Unable to say anything more. The collar slips off. And into his hand, she massages the base of her neck, feeling a rash form there.
“There is an extra set of clothes in the fresher, please change.”
She finds the fresher and then a blue mechanics jumpsuit and socks hanging up, most likely to dry. “Are you from one of the villages?” she hears him call from outside.
“Yes.” She hears his footsteps, taking him back to the nose of the ship. She picks up the jumper and steps into it. The fabric hangs loose, it is a thin course material, especially compared to the fur she is used to, but it covers her from her ankles to her wrists. She feels the socks, they are dry, she slips those on as well.
“You smell like salt, one of the villages by the sea?” she hears him say from the cockpit.
“Yes.”
“You will be home soon.”
She runs back out, almost slipping on her socks as she does. “No, no you cannot take me home.”
he has settled into the pilot’s chair and begins to switch on controls. “Come, sit.” He pats the co-pilots seat beside him, “this is the best view.”
She does not. “They will kill me.” she does not know the word for exile, she cannot explain it. She understand basic well, but cannot form the words on her own tongue easily. What she says is still true, if not exact.
“Why? What have you done?” he asks, his attention mainly on the controls, he does not seem to believe her.
“You ruined me.” she says simply, no accusation, only an explanation.
The man pauses, turning back to look at her. He takes her in, something in his face softens “You are not-”
“They will kill me.”
His eyes are dark, hard, she wonders for a moment how old he is. He looks older than her, but not as old as the man her father had given her to. His hair was all gray now, she would've been his third wife. This man has dark black hair and the only sign of wrinkles are his sunken eyes, that look more akin to the effect of sun and exhaustion than age. Perhaps he is the age of her sister Mara, she has many children.
“Why?”
“I bring shame, now.” She will come back contaminated, they will cast her out to preserve the dignity of the village. She wants to explain. Desperately wants to explain that they are in need of every scrap of dignity and tradition that they can keep. The men in white, they strip away every natural resource. They steal their salt, they kill their whales, they outlaw their customs.
“Your family does not need to know.” he says, turning back again to the controls, quicker. He is dismissing her, she is running out of time to convince him.
“I am promised, he will know.” Ift, was once one of the greatest warriors in their village, he already took it as disrespect that he was given the youngest, boyish and small, daughter of a village elder. He holds true to the old customs, however harsh, it would be his choice and he would choose her exile. “He will check for blood, there will be no blood.”
“Tell him I raped you.” He does not look at her, slides a head set over his ear.
“He will kill me, he will not burn me.” Her voice is getting louder, higher. She hates it, she knows this is when people stop listening to her. She feels tears in her eyes, she hates those too. Shame would fall on her sisters, on her brother, shame would fall on her father. Shame would even fall on her mother, though her ashes have long been taken by the wind. She does not have the command of his language to explain this to him so she simply pleads again; “I will die and no one will burn me.”
“Surely someone can protect you? Your Father? Brother?” Something like panic is in his voice now, as if he is disgusted at the thought of having her here with him any longer. She’s not a good whore, my friend. He does not understand, refuses to. Refuses to even look at her.
She lurches forward, grabbing his shoulder. His hand shoots up and seizes her wrist, This causes him to look at her, finally. “If you want me to die, kill me yourself, like a man.” She says, before she can think about the consequences. His eyes are hard, he could. His blaster is still strapped to his leg. “And burn me.” she adds quickly. In case he takes her advice and puts a blaster wound in her chest right then and there.
“Sit down.” he says, measured, cold. He lets go of her. There is a long silence. He turns and she can see a redish purple mark on his neck from where she bit down. He goes back to the buttons, the same rhythm as before but reversed, as if he is undoing whatever he had programmed. “If you touch me again I will put the binder back on.”
She nods, and obeys, sliding into the seat beside him. Fear settles back in. Now what will he do with her? If he does not even want her to touch him. If he cannot be rid of her quickly. Sell her again? Will he take her advice and actually kill her? If they leave the planet will her mother’s spirit be able to find hers? How unpleasant had she been in the little stone room for him to not want to keep her. “I can learn.” she says quickly.
“What?” he asks, absently again. She’s lost the heat that filled her moments before, she feels all at once like she will begin to cry, she pushes the feeling down.
“If I am not good. I can learn.” There is silence. She knows about transactions. This cannot be much different from belonging to Ift. He would offer her protection as long as she kept him pleased. The man is just staring now, he has clenched his jaw. She breaks too easy. She could be better, she could resist if that is what he wanted. He only needed to tell her what he wanted. “I can-” she begins to say but he shushs her.
“Hold on.” he says, his hand moving to the lever beside her. “Just, just hold on.”
She obeys, wrapping her hands around the rests on her seat and staring ahead. He pulls down and they surge upward into the black sky, past the blue glow of the atmosphere. She watches, as the eyes grow bigger than pass away from them. She can see out into the salt mines, wounds ripped into the glistening snow, getting smaller and smaller. The vast cold black sea, disappearing under the blue clouds. He switches a few things, then all the stars are surging past them and they are floating in soft black space.
-----
He supposes it is unfair to threaten her with bondage when he has touched her so much without permission, but he cannot fly worrying about her shiving him again. Surely there is somewhere else he can take her. He needs to report back to the alliance. He casts a glance at his new companion. Her eyes are wide, staring into the blackness.
“Never left the planet?” he asks. She nods. Indirect colorful light from the switchboard illuminates her soft face. He forgot to tend to her wound. He curses quietly and stands, the ship should be just fine on autopilot while he fetches the Bacta. “Come.” he says, beckoning for her to follow him further into the ship. She does, incredibly quiet behind him, so much so he has to look back to see she is still there. He adds this to the list of things he needs to watch out for, she could sneak up on him so easily. He reaches the first aid kit and grabs the jar of Bacta gel. He has her sit, and applies it gingerly to her cheeks, where the blaster hilt ripped into soft skin. He wonders again, why she tried to kill him in the first place, it had gotten lost throughout the course of the evening in his mind. He knew if she was imperial she had no way of being reached, there were no comm-devices anywhere she could’ve hidden from him. Maybe she had simply been that afraid of him. He supposed it made sense after what she had just told him. He cannot imagine it. He thinks of the many brothels and clubs he’d been in, asking for anyone from Kenari, trying desperately to find his sister. Nothing could be done to her that would ever change how much he wanted her safely back beside him.
“Anywhere else I can take you?” He asks, as he covers the gel in sticky gauze to keep it in place, so it could nourish the broken skin. She is silent, perhaps because she did not understand, perhaps because she is trying to form a response. She does not have a great command of imperial basic he is discovering. “Anywhere you’ve wanted to see? Any family anywhere?” There is a long silence she seems to be searching for an answer, the longer he stares at those eyes the heavier his guilt becomes. He exhales, slowly, the ship has warmed now so he can no longer see his breath. “It’s alright, Cuenino” He stands and turns to go back to the cockpit, quietly behind him he hears:
“Cuenino” She fumbles over it, trying it out on her tongue. Cassian has not heard the word from any lips but his own for so long. Hearing his mother tongue, even spoken so clumsily, makes him nearly break. “What is it?” she asks.
He looks back at her, tries to find the words, he thinks of the lizards with their little beady eyes on a wet, warm, dead planet. His faceless mother’s soft voice. His own voice, calming down his sister after a nightmare, her little hands grabbing at his arms to pull him closer. He does not know how to translate all of this. “Nothing bad.”
He walks back to the cockpit with her close behind him, though he doesn’t realize till she is back in the co-pilot’s seat, curling up and staring into the soft black sky. She looks so small, so sweet, in the oversized jumpsuit. The collar has left a rash on her neck, he wonders if he should’ve applied Bacta there as well. Her hair is down, and full, the frizz has settled now that they have left the humidity of the club, though it is still thick and lush, nearly deep blue under the faint lights.