I Was Told There Would Be Cake (Private)

(((Hope you don’t mind me taking a bit of control there at the end, of Golda and Eli. If it’s a problem, I can edit.
Also, and I just thought of this... if you'd prefer I added a bit to the end to make it easier to reply to, let me know. I just noticed it might not be the best place to stop, lol))).


[…from x]

Coruscant. It had been years and years since Pak had been last on the city planet, the self-proclaimed capital of the Republic. So much had happened to him lately that it seemed like a lifetime ago, though in reality it had been less than a decade. But that was one thing the planet was good for; it hadn’t changed in the slightest, at least on the outside. When he had made his approach, it looked exactly the same as when he had first put his eyes on it. He was the one who had changed. Instead of coming to the planet as a teenaged Balosar with high hopes for his future, he had now been returning in his own ship with passengers in tow. And he would leave in the same way if all went well, not as a respected, newly minted fighter pilot with everything ahead of him.

He had almost balked at the family of Zabraks who had approached him and his ship back on Rodia. Pak wasn’t really in the habit in taking up long-distance trips, especially not ones that took him this far from the Outer Rim. But there had been something in their faces, their eyes. Something he had felt in them through his antennapalps, a gift of his particular species. And that feeling in his gut coupled with the sob story the father had told him made Pak finally give in and relent. The Balosar wasn’t an inherently cruel being. How could he deny a family a second chance, especially when they had just scraped together enough credits to hire him and hadn’t enough to pay any of the others in the spaceport?

The only concession he had required for the family was that he had to set down away from the upper levels. He wouldn’t go so far as the undercity of Coruscant, but he had no desire to alight anywhere near the surface either. It wasn’t that he running from anyway and was afraid of being spotted. No, he had just preferred to lead a life of anonymity from now on. Pak disguised this little quirk of his by docking his price a bit, citing that the youngest two children could travel for free. The father had been so grateful to know that he would have a few credits left for their new life after paying Pak that he would have agreed to anything.

And so the long trip had begun, the Zabraks stowing their few possessions aboard. But what Pak had been hoping would be an uneventful next few days started out anything but. The Crimson Requiem had barely cleared atmosphere when it suddenly gained a couple of unfriendly escorts. After a short discussion over the comm with spaceport control, it was revealed that his new passengers were apparently not leaving the planet legally. He had a brief moment of indecision until he brought his thrusters to full power, wanting to break free of the gravity well as soon as he could and get into hyperspace. Despite his morals, he had promised this family he’d take care of them, and that was what he was gonna do. After he gave the Rodian authorities the slip, he could gather more details. But for the moment he had some work to do. Luckily for him, the red V-shaped freighter was agile and fast, and he had been able to quickly shift into lightspeed with only a few nicks on his shields. Just to be on the safe side, he added a few extra jumps around the area before starting on the first leg of the journey to Coruscant.

Satisfied that he was no longer being followed, he had gone aft to talk things over with the family. At first the father Zabrak denied the information that Pak had been made privy to, but then eventually the story slowly came out. They were not runaway slaves as the Balosar had thought but just a family caught in a bad situation. The father had gotten a new job, and the Zabraks finally thought their troubles would end. That is, until he had found out one day that he was actually working for a small mob of Devaronian gangsters. When his bosses wouldn’t let him quit, the family had decided with heavy hearts to just disappear if they could. And obviously when they had tried, the gang must have had some of the spaceport authority in their coffers. Whether or not it was true, Pak was satisfied with the explanation and no longer worried that he’d have a price put on his head back on Rodia.

In any case, the rest of the journey had gone smoothly enough, and they had arrived only a half-day later than Pak had originally quoted the family. It took him a while to find a small enough out-of-the-way spaceport to dock at. Even though he had been on Coruscant before, he had never ventured this far down, nor had any reason to. Pak knew the family wouldn’t really care where he landed, as long as they had someplace to disappear into, but he wasn’t about to let this family out somewhere where they would just get mugged five minutes later. Finally he had found one that was open enough and in what seemed a lower class but decent area and engaged his repulsors to set down. He was paid, the family thanked him, and then blended into the small crowd milling around his and the other ships.

Now it was a day later, and Pak was still parked on Coruscant. He was beginning to discover another reason why coming to this far into the Core and such a populated planet hadn’t been top of his list. There were so many more ships and pilots to choose from that just from sheer numbers alone his odds had greatly reduced at finding new passengers. Plus, he vaguely wondered if it was the color of his ship, though it hadn’t really been a problem in the past. That couldn’t be helped; there was no way in the galaxy he’d
re-paint his girl. He’d just have to live some more off his previous earnings and hope for a being desperate enough to hire the Balosar and the Crimson Requiem.

Wanting to get out and get some air, having spent the previous day holed up inside his ship, he headed down the ramp. Normally he would have just locked up and looked for the nearest cantina to spend the afternoon and evening drinking in, but being on Coruscant, even this far from military headquarters, made him feel a bit jittery. He felt much better the closer he stayed to his ship, and so he didn’t stray too far. Plus, he still had a couple bottles of Rylothian rum left from his brief stay on Rodia, and so there really was no need for him to wander off. Pak had everything he could need right there in and around his ship.

Outside his ship, he decided to give her a once over, simultaneously hoping that the sight of him might garner more interest in hiring him. Though the most desperate would just bang on hatches until a being emerged, it didn’t hurt to be visible to any potential clients. And the Balosar didn’t exactly strike the most trustworthy of images in his scuffed-up boots, worn trousers and tunic, holster belt that held a bottle of rum instead of a blaster. But as he well knew, appearances could be deceiving; if only a being out there would take a chance on him.

Having wandered over to the starboard side of the Requiem, near the port side of another freighter, he heard before he saw the ruckus going on. He almost would have missed it; some of the other pilots nearby were working on their ships, and tools and machines were clanking and whirring. But he heard it all the same, perhaps because it was an unusual noise, one he didn’t hear too often. The sound of an unhappy child. Slowly, Pak made his way back to the front of his ship and the main area of the landing pad and saw the child there, a couple of berths down from his own, a woman grabbing at him.

Normally he would have just let the scene go and continue about his business, but Pak also knew which being owned that ship and toolbox. He remembered from his arrival the day before, seeing the ugly, fat Chagrian as he had watched the Zabrak family depart. Forgetting his own self-preservation, the Balosar hurried over, wanting to prevent the Chagrian from doing any harm to the woman and who he supposed was her child. The blue-skinned, horned being didn’t seem all that thrilled to come out and find a child playing with his tools. In fact, he was gripping a particularly large hydrospanner in his fist and advancing towards them, not interested in the woman’s apologies.

Pak acted then, not really thinking, his military instincts kicking in. Even though he was no longer inside, he’d never really forget his training. He cleared his throat as he came up to the trio of beings, putting a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Oh, dear… Did you two get lost again?” With the angry alien distracted at the Balosar’s sudden appearance, he leaned down and whispered to the woman. “Just go with it. Trust me.” Pak turned back to the Chagrian and chuckled nervously, plastering a ‘hey, what can you do?’ smile on his face. “So sorry, sir. Won’t happen again. Simple misunderstanding.” Then, after saying a brief prayer to whoever was listening, Pak grabbed the child up in his arms, trying not to drop the squirming, screaming thing and began steering the woman in the direction of his ship. The Chagrian watched, confused, for a moment and then turned back to his work.

(Tis all good, gave me stuff to work with ))


Her eyes widened in fear when she saw the alien's expression. Golda's arms wrapped protectively around the flailing boy. Eli cried words of the protest which were abruptly cut by sensing something more from his mother than usual frustration and anxiety. It was fear. As in tune with the woman, the strange, bald boy began to whimper scared, not even looking at the danger but clinging to his mother.

She stepped back, not trying to apologize anymore as it seemed to have much different effect than expected. Surprised by how strong her maternal instincts reacted to the thread, Golda put down the boy and put herself between him and the incoming mountain of blue muscles. Eli wrapped his hands around her leg, squeezing it tightly which hindered her ability to fight of course but it wouldn't stop the young human from fighting for her and her son's lives. The woman's body tensed as she raised her hands to deflect any blow that would come her way when something odd happened...

In the corner of her eye a humanoid figure appeared. Golda felt a gentle touch brushing her shoulder. It made her jump in fear at first but the man didn't seem to be hostile...On the contrary, the Balosar behaved like he knew them. Before she could say a word, the alien whispered something. It took few seconds for her to put everything together in between screaming Eli and her own fear.

The Chagrin backed off, maybe knew the Balosar or just didn't want to engage two people. Quickly, Golda followed the man, anxiously waiting for her child to be returned to her. Eli didn't like being handled by a stranger one bit and even tried to grab the Balosar's antenna. The boy was a true fighter, whether because of a heritage from his Zabrak father or general ill temper it didn't really matter. Eli was a handful. Golda quickly reached her hands to take the unruly and scared son back.

She looked around, still confused by the sudden turn of evens, the woman cuddled her child. The boy was a bit calmer now and demanded to be put down. It was often shocking for her how quickly Eli would reel off certain emotions and stress. ”Not now, stay.” She hissed frustrated and looked at the Balosar apologetically. He was her height and looked rather average for his kind. Golda didn't have any opinion on his species though for sure after this it would be more favorable. That was a daring rescue.

”Thank you...I... guess I shouldn't really bring him here.” She was at loss a bit, not really knowing what to expect from the Balosar. Spontaneous acts of kindness were not common in such places. ”Momma, look, it's red.” Eli suddenly exploded with childish enthusiasm. Golda blinked and moved her gaze up only then noticing a vividly crimson hull of a ship. ”Oh, wow.” The woman said. ”Yours?” She added, still gazing at the scarlet starship.

On the way back to where his ship was berthed, Pak was reminded multiple times—at every kick against him from the child, in fact—why he was deeply glad he was not planning on procreating. Ever. Kids of any species were loud and obnoxious and all around full of trouble. That was one risk he was happy not taking. In the very short experiences in his life that he had had among the youngest of beings, none of them had been exactly favorable or memorably in a good way. And this boy was no exception. If the small family hadn’t sparked him as being in danger, he definitely wouldn’t have acted the way he had. But at the time, he hadn’t thought of any other option. One he was regretting, big-time.

Once back in front of the Requiem, he was only too happy to return the child to his mother, almost dropping him in her arms, more than gently handing him over. But there didn’t seem to be any damage, not to the child at least. He himself could feel where a few bruises would be forming on his chest later. Once without the child, Pak subconsciously wiped his hands on his trousers and double-checked that his being was in order. The child hadn’t actually been dirty, but it was just an involuntary reflex for him. Everything about children embodied disgusting things for him. He didn’t touch them if he could help it. And after this experience, would make double sure he didn’t.

He was still trying to get over the fact of what he had just done, sort of in a daze, when the woman spoke, thanking him. Pak looked at her, blinking, not comprehending her words right away. Quickly, though, he came to his senses and shrugged, grinning at her. “No problem, lady. Nothing to it. Happy to help.” That was a bit of a lie; there actually had been quite a lot to it, in the physical carrying of the child. But in the actual thought process, it was completely true. And he had been happy to help her out, despite the way he had done it. The Balosar opened his mouth again to comment on her having brought her child into the spaceport, but closed it again. It wasn’t his place to say anything.

Though he had calmed down quite a bit from the… incident with the woman’s child and returned to his senses, Pak still reached down and pulled the bottle of rum out of his holster. It had been months since the piece had actually carried a weapon. He had been meaning to look for his blaster one of these days, but something else more important always came up. Like a job, or drinking. Pak took a long drag on the bottle before turning back to the woman, trying to decide what to do, hoping she would take the initiative and just be on her way.

Before he could suggest anything of that nature, however, the boy cried out, attracted to his ship. Both child and mother stared over at the red arrowhead-shaped ship perched nearby, and all other thoughts fled Pak’s mind. There was nothing in the galaxy more important to him than his ship, and he was more than willing to talk about her. He no longer cared how the two had come to be in his presence or what their purpose for being in the spaceport was. His ship was now the focus of all of his attentions, the two beings just a means for channeling that attention.

Placing the bottle back in the holster at his hip, he nodded, looking at his ship with similar admiration. Finally, there was a being who was attracted to his ship, not scared away by its vivid coloring. A grin spread wide on his face as he moved forward to stand next to the woman holding her child. “Yep. She’s a beauty, isn’t she? My pride and joy.” The Balosar took a few more steps and reached out a hand to caress the hull of the underside of the pointed nose of the ship. For a moment he was almost in a trance, remembering her namesake, but quickly forcing himself to snap out of it before he descended into unwanted thoughts. “ As I’m sure your son is for you,” he added, looking back at the woman and gesturing at her child.

Eli was not happy about a stranger grabbing him like that and would show it in the loudest manner possible. Once in safely back in his mother’s arms, the boy even poked his tongue at the alien man. Embarrassed, Golda shook her child a bit, trying to calm him down which achieved nothing and only made Eli angrier. Sometimes he thought her son was some wild beast and not just a small…almost human boy. Judging by the Balosar’s reaction he wasn’t happy about all that either. The woman noticed him wiping his hands after handing the boy which made her feel even more ashamed and she remembered now vividly why taking Eli anywhere was so hard for her.

After putting the boy down, she made sure he wouldn’t take off anywhere by placing her palm on his head. Eli was tall for his age; then again human standards didn’t really apply to him. At moments like this she truly regretted having him which probably made her into really bad mother but at least her son wouldn’t learn it. Hopefully as it was painfully obvious even for someone who didn’t have kids that Golda couldn’t really bring the boy under control.

The smile from the man eased her anxiety a bit though she had doubts if there was nothing to it. The Balosar risked a conflict with really nasty looking creature to help them. The woman really had no idea what to do or say so just nodded with lowered gaze. She was often rather shy, despite talking part in many shady activities and even training martial arts when it came to personal interaction, especially with stranger men, Golda was often at loss which was rather visible right now. Her mouth opened only to close few moments later, looking for appropriate words. Something Eli had no problem with as he stepped to the man, looked at him and commented ”You have funny antennas mister.” and reached his hands toward the bottle Balosar scooped from his belt.

”Eli!” Golda chastised the boy who pouted his lips in a childish display of unhappiness. Trying to pretend nothing had occurred and just pulled the boy away by one of his still small horns when Eli got interest in the ship. A thought appeared in the woman’s mind, when she suddenly remembered, what was the reason of this early morning visit to the docks. Her gaze moved to the man whose face expression changed to what Golda interpreted as glee mixed with self-confidence. Yes, it was certainly his ship. She didn’t even need a verbal confirmation.

In truth the ship looked at least unorthodox. Her color was almost painful on the eyes but Golda wouldn’t say she was ugly. A well kept ship as far as the woman could tell; had a weird color but rather attentive owner who seemed to clean her hull often. ”It’s a nice color…” Golda said with hesitation, not really sure how to compliment a ship. Eli was still looking transfixed at the vivid crimson machine. The woman looked at her son, pondering the Balosar’s words as her pale, blue eyes followed his gesture. Eli? Her pride? She immediately remembered all the embarrassment he had caused recently. From the day her son was born Golda’s primary emotion when looking at him was shame at the same time excess worry about his well-being. ”Yeah…” The human just said with a sigh though with little confidence.

”Uhm…do you maybe…? Are you for hire? I need a transport that would take me to the Mid Rim. Nar Shaadda preferably.” She quickly tried to change the topic and maybe to finally get some business done today. There was a chance for once Eli’s mischief would turn into something good and the mysterious rescuer had not so expensive means to help her close some unfinished business on that filthy moon.

Pak stepped back away from his ship and stood next to the woman again, taking in the view of his ship from a greater distance, the remnants of his grin still tweaking his features. He nodded at her comment about the ship’s color, not really noticing her pause after his further reply. The status of the woman’s relationship with her unruly son was none of his business; he was just making idle, polite chitchat.
The Balosar really could have cared less whether there had been any true meaning in his words. She was willing to talk about his ship; nothing else mattered. He was just trying to prolong the conversation on a topic he actually enjoyed speaking about. Though there were a few details regarding the Requiem he would never discuss—like why he had acquired her in the first place—the rest of it was completely available for their conversation.

He glanced over at her after her sighed answer but didn’t give it much thought. After all, he wasn’t here to talk about her parenting skills. It was curious, yes, but that was as far as his mind went. If he allowed himself to interfere, he knew it would only lead to trouble. Plus, Pak knew his own relationship with his mother was hardly a prime example of an exemplary childhood. She had left him to fend for himself in the streets of his home planet at a very young age. It was very likely that he wouldn’t even recognize her if he ever saw the older Balosar again. But all that was in his past, a past that had helped shape into the being he was now.

Even though he hadn’t been planning on trying to analyze the woman’s dull response regarding her child, it wouldn’t have mattered. She quickly switched to a new subject, apparently still fixated on the red freighter, but now for different reasons. Though her son was still enthralled with its shape and paint job, the mother apparently had more important things on her mind. The request she made wasn’t entirely unexpected for Pak. While he did most of his business in cantinas, potential clients did come up to him in the spaceport at times. Generally, though, these beings seemed to be in more of a hurry, and he didn’t sense a great deal of urgency with this woman. Perhaps it was irritation with her son that was clouding them. She’d have to have a bit of desperation, in his experience, to want to hire a ship in a color such as his.

Turning to face the woman, he nodded again and smiled. “Of course. We’re always for hire. Been looking for a new job since I got here day before. Actually, I’d like to get off Coruscant as soon as possible.” He paused and continued, lowering his voice but keeping it lighthearted. “No offense to yourself, but this planet just makes me uncomfortable.” Pak felt safe enough leaving his words at that and letting her figure out a reason for herself if she wished. The important thing was that she wanted to hire him, not his reluctance for being in the city planet.

Grabbing his bottle of rum, he took a swig before continuing. “Shall we discuss a payment? Nar Shaadaa’s a fair distance from here, but I’m not hard-set in my prices. I’m willing to haggle a bit.” As an afterthought, he added, “Oh, and, uh, I let children travel free of charge.” Pak could tell now that there was a bit of urgency and desperation in the woman’s aura coming to his antennapalps. And though he didn’t want to completely bend over for her, it was true that his charge for his piloting skills and his ship were negotiable. The reason he did a fair amount of business was his choice to keep his prices competitive in a heavy ship-for-hire market. Plus, a slightly lower price helped most beings forget the color of his ship once they left the cantina and got to his docking bay. “How’s say…” Pak waved the hand holding the bottle of rum absently. “4,000?”

Good thing the ship was so obnoxiously crimson as it let the woman have a shred of peaceful conversation. With her son around, it meant a lot. Golda made a mental note to get him around red things more often. The human turned slightly towards the man, finally giving some indication that she was indeed listening. Glacial, blue eyes softening at the news he was indeed looking for work. He seemed like someone more on a good and honest side despite the opinion his species had around the Galaxy.

”I know the feeling...” A sigh escaped her pink lips. As a person dealing on the shadier side of the law, a city like Coruscant was not the best place to live. You had to be constantly vigilant as law enforcement did their job fairly well, which made really hard to make real money here. Probably the Balosar had no clean record, no wonder Republic capital was not his planet of choice. His words even made her pondering moving for a brief second but she didn't want her son to grow up in a Hutt slavery den. In here he had a chance for normality, good education.

With tired expression the woman listened to the proposition, trying not to stare at the bottle of suspiciously smelling alcohol, but after a moment she just couldn't help herself. ”But you don't drink, when flying? Right?” Her pale eyebrows went up a bit, but tone of the voice remained fairly neutral. Golda could generally be described as rather withdrawn and closed when it came to emotions, which often gave wrong impression of being bored or indifferent but the remark about Eli coming along did elicit a small, if sad smile. ”He is not going, Nar Shaddaa is not the place for kids, but that is nice of you.”Golda felt a growing amount of sympathy toward him; he did save her son and was generally rather polite. Something rare in her field of work, filled with selfish bastards.

The price was not the lowest, Golda had managed before to negotiate better deals but it was not like the Balosar wanted outrageous amount and she did owe him giving the risk the male put himself into. With only a moment of hesitation the woman agreed with couple of nods. ”Alright. We have a deal.” She grabbed Eli who was ready to stroll off again, this time toward angry looking Devronian but this time Golda managed to get their first, whispering threats of punishment which mostly consisted of not buying any sweets. Sometimes she wanted to be more strict, tempted to slap Eli but memories of her own childhood would always stop her.

”Can we meet here in three hours? I wanted to get some things done before.” Golda said loudly, trying to outshout the protesting boy. Her son was getting impatient and impatient Eli was a menace. It was painfully obvious the woman wanted to just drop him off somewhere, quickly.Golda smiled awkwardly, trying to pretend she had everything under control.

(( Feel free to skip those three hours ))

(((Sorry for the wait…)))


Before the woman started on the process of negotiating for a better price that Pak knew would inevitably come, she commented on his obvious drinking. He glanced at the bottle in his hand and self-consciously shoved it back into his empty holster. His mouth opened to reply. Of course, he did drink while he flew, finding that it somehow helped, improving his skill, though not as heavily as he drank while away from his ship. The memories just weren’t as strong when he was lost behind the yoke and controls of his baby. But he was not about to tell her that, afraid he might lose her as a paying passenger. Nor would he lie to her. So Pak just snapped his mouth shut and smiled at her, with as much reassurance as he could muster. As long as she didn’t wander into the cockpit during the trip, she would never know.

He was a little surprised that the child wasn’t coming with his mother, but he merely nodded in understanding and murmured a ‘no problem’ in response to her. Pak knew Nar Shaddaa was a rough place. Perhaps the woman was keeping the boy with a friend or family member to keep him out of trouble and away from danger. Not a husband or boyfriend, he didn’t think and self-respecting male with this woman in his care would let her travel off by herself to such a planet. He shook the thoughts away; it wasn’t really his place to judge the woman and her actions.

Though he had to admit he was inwardly glad about the notion of not having to corral the little demon during the trip. Just his brief interaction with the strange little boy had given him enough information about the child’s precocious nature. He didn’t even want to imagine what the inside of the Requiem would look like after the trip from Coruscant to Nar Shaddaa. Even with his mother along, he didn’t think it would be easy to keep the child out of trouble. Fortunately, Pak wouldn’t ever have to find out how that situation would end up, and he counted his lucky stars on his good fortune.

A bit startled, Pak’s pale blue eyes blinked when the woman just accepted his offer of the 4,000 credits. Hardly any being ever just paid his original price without doing some haggling first. Either this woman was really that much in a hurry and willing to pay anything, or… or Pak he didn’t know what other reason there could be for her willingness to pay his original price. Quickly, though, he hid his surprise, afraid that she might back out if she noticed he wasn’t expecting her to pay the 4,000. He smiled at her, nodding. “Great.”

Pak had started to move towards his ship to get her ready, but the woman’s last remark stopped him, and he turned back to her. Perhaps she wasn’t quite in a rush as he had thought. But of course, he should have known that she would have to make some preparations, do something with the boy, gather up the payment. He had just been so excited to have a passenger who was willing to pay what passed as his full price that everything else had been lost in his mind. “Of course. Yes. Three hours. See you then, right here.” Another smile, another nod came from the Balosar.

Things thus settled, he watched the woman move away, something made difficult by the child at her side. Pak watched only briefly and then went back to the vector-shaped red freighter and headed up the ramp. There weren’t too many preparations he needed to do; perhaps he could get some shuteye in the meantime. He’d really prefer a quick trip to a nearby cantina, but nothing about his voyages into drinking establishments was ever quick. Best to just stay in the Crimson Requiem and wait for the blonde woman to return.

Once inside, he polished off the bottle of rum. He was about to toss it on one of the couches in the common area when he noticed that there were quite a few other empties laying about, not to mention the ones he knew were in his cabin, the galley, the cockpit, just about everywhere in the freighter. Scratching the back of his head, he decided to hold off on his nap for a bit. Generally his passengers didn’t notice the chaos and clutter, and if they did, they never mentioned it. But this woman… Pak starting picking up the bottles, soon getting an armful. He wasn’t sure why, but he thought perhaps it would be best if he tidied up, just a bit.

* * * * *

About three hours later, Pak stood outside near the boarding ramp of the Requiem, using a half-dirty rag to needlessly polish the gleaming ship. Her insides were almost just as gleaming. He had gotten a bit carried away with his cleaning up. Not only had he removed any and all of his empty alcohol bottles from every nook and cranny, but he had spruced up the rest as well. Nothing was completely spotless but it at least looked clean and fairly organized, a little homey and no longer fresh from the shipyard. The Balosar had even tidied his own appearance up; his boots shone, his trousers and tunic were mostly wrinkle-free, even his wild mop of hair had been tamed into submission for the most part. And the useless blaster holster had been removed.

During the whole process he had kept telling himself it was because his ship needed the cleaning, not from any influence his coming female passenger had. She couldn’t have; his heart was closed off to anything like that. And yet, there was still something tickling at the back of his mind. At the time, he had thought he was just doing the right thing, saving her child and herself from the grumpy Changrian. Just doing his civic duty aided by past military training. But maybe, just maybe, there had been a deeper seeded subconscious push behind it all. Pak sighed and focused back on rubbing the rag on his ship’s hull. Or maybe he was just going crazy from lack of alcohol and sleep in the past couple hours. At any rate, his passenger would be coming soon; he’d just get her to Nar Shaddaa and move on, realize he was just being silly.

((No worries ^.^ ))

Her eyes darted from the bottle to the Balosar before her. For a moment Golda looked a bit confused when the man just smiled. It was pretty clear he didn't want to answer the question which was an answer nonetheless. The human sighed and decided to let it go. The ship wasn't new and her pilot was still alive, it couldn't be that bad. There was little chance she would find someone else to hire today. Golda shrugged indifferently, half of her attention always on the boy who was probably now figuring a new mischief. It made her to agree on the price even quicker which seemed to surprise the Balosar, the reaction Golda didn't notice focused now on Eli trying to climb a ladder.

”Dear lord. ” Sigh of resignation rolled off her lips and run after Eli, turning to the Balosar only for a brief second. ”In three hours!” Golda repeated before prying the boy off the ladder. It was going to be a long walk back home and the woman was not mistaken. It was almost as if her son was doing everything to delay her including going into long hysteria while Golda was packing. Eliana's typical methods wouldn't work this time as well as promises of presents. The young woman discovered that It was getting harder and harder to leave him which only caused her to pack faster.

After three harrowing hours Golda found herself standing at the entrance to the docks once again with a small bag in one hand and datapad in another. Credit chit was safely tucked in an interior pocket of her leather jacket. Simple, plain clothes with nothing to show hugged her form as the times when Golda had been wearing short dresses and tight pants willingly were long time over.

Slender digits moved a loose strand of hair from her heart shaped face. Another gesture to buy her time before entering the docks. The guilt of leaving Eli wouldn't go away this time as easily as before, making Golda's every step to be deliberately slow. With gaze fixed on the filthy, metallic ground, the woman made her way toward the vividly crimson ship. Her bright paint was visible from the far end of the docks. It made Golda wonder how come she didn't notice it right away, the moment she and Eli stepped into the well lit interior.

From time to time her gaze went up to confirm she was walking in a proper direction, only to fall down to look at the random cracks that formed on the floor. She nearly walked into the same creature Eli had angered before but this time he only eyed her evilly. Golda had urge to punch him, now when her son was safe but refrained. It was not worth it. The woman's attention quickly shifting toward the Balosar. It struck her suddenly...She didn't know his name.

Golda moved behind him, trying not to make too much noise. It was something typical for her, something she had learned long ago. To move and behave like you weren't there, avoiding volatile parent and later partner. It effectively made her to melt into the background though not to the extent she often wanted. ”Hello...” The woman started softly, not really sure what to do.

(((Sorry for the delay...)))


Pak took a few steps back and folded his arms, the now even dirtier rag hanging from his hand. He admired his polish job, smiling. The Requiem fairly gleamed, and he could almost see his reflection in areas of her hull. Of course, the shining was incomplete; he hadn’t taken the time to find a ladder or lift so he could get the areas out of reach of his shorter height and wingspan. But from where he was standing, she looked beautiful. Almost as beautiful as her namesake. The Balosar felt a pang at the thought of the lost Miraluka woman and shook his head to scatter the feeling.

Involuntarily he reached for his alcohol standby to help with the process and was disappointed to find his holster empty. He sighed and took a few steps towards the open ramp to put away the soiled cloth and perhaps dig around for a bottle of something that he had hidden away. Mid stride, though, his antennapalps picked up something, shooing away his sadness almost as effectively as alcohol; there was a being coming up behind him. Generally he used them for just sensing immediate danger, but they were also just as useful for detecting changes around him. The ‘palps couldn’t always distinguish real danger from the myriad of potential disturbances.

Not feeling anything directly hostile in the presence, Pak turned around to look, still keeping his guard up, just in case. When he saw it was the woman from earlier who had hired him, standing with a small bag in her hand, he smiled and relaxed, realizing he had been right in his assessment of the situation. At the same time, she spoke, greeting him, and then he felt an underlying nervousness radiating from her through his ‘palps. Whether it was from the actual act of meeting him again, the upcoming trip, her business on Nar Shaddaa, or a host of other possibilities, Pak wasn’t sure. But that wasn’t his concern; he was the pilot, not her therapist.

He nodded at her. “Hey, you made it.” Finding he still had the rag in his hand, he stuffed it in a back pocket of his trousers, looking a bit out of place in his newly cleaned-up appearance. Pak slapped his hands together and then rubbed them in expectation. “Well… if you’re all set, let’s get this little party started, shall we?” Noticing her meager luggage again, Pak briefly considered offering to carry it in for her but decided against it, unsure of how she might react. Instead, he indicated the entrance ramp with a wave of his hand. “Ladies first.”

Once she was on her way in, Pak followed her up and closed the hatch behind him. “I’ll give you the grand tour and show you to your quarters.” Looking back at the woman, he grinned. “ “For what it’s worth. She’s not a very spacious ship.” Just a few steps forward from where they had entered, they were already in the lounge/common area of the ship. It was a smallish room but cozy enough, with seating in one of the rounded corners around a table, a communication console in another. The furnishings were sparse but of the decent quality that came from the factory and shipyard.

“Now…” He was considering which part to show her first when realization dawned on him, mixed with the jitters he still felt from his new client; there was a big thing he had neglected to do. The Balosar dropped his tour guide persona and turned to the blonde woman, apology written on his face. “Oh, I’m sorry, miss. Where are my manners? I’m Captain Har’endanno. Welcome to the Crimson Requiem.” He waggled a hand vaguely, encompassing not only the room they were in but the entire ship.

It was strange. As if the man knew someone was behind him and just turned casually without any indication of surprise if only a bit of tension. Golda responded to Balosar's smile with her own but quickly escaping her gaze. She nodded, biting her lower lip. It didn't escape her the captain looked a bit different...cleaner. She didn't want to put any meaning to it though, maybe it was a habit before every trip. Slight blush put glow to her features when the captain called her a lady. Something Golda was not used to in the slightest. A woman who in her teenage years fought for money in the Coruscant underground fight clubs was as far from a lady as it got.

Inhaling deeply and swallowing her anxiety, Golda stepped into the metal interior. Alien scent filled her nostrils, oil, cleaning solutions mixed with something else, sweet and exotic. Food, drink, she couldn't really tell. The woman realized that every ship she had been on smelled differently with only few similar undertones. Maybe there was some truth in the saying that the ship takes characteristics of her captain.

Noise of closing doors made her gaze to move away from the communication console and rested on the pilot. ”Sure. It's a nice ship.” She briefly wondered if the captain would let her send a message home but it was a problem for later. ”Don't worry, for most of a time you won't even now I am here.” Golda quickly added, again shifting her eyes away from the Balosar when noticing how his face expression changed. Interpreting it as if she had done something wrong.

”Oh...Don't worry about it, I am sorry, please call me Golda. Golda Idriya.” The woman flustered, feeling a bit lost for a moment. She tried to repeat the captain's name but it sounded odd on her tongue. Especially the part after Har, then again calling him Har could mean an offense for the man so she just decided to awkwardly change the topic.

”So uhmm..Crimson Requiem...it sounds unusual...I mean not that it is a bad name or anything...just...I am sorry, I am rambling.” Golda couldn't even place this sudden nervousness around the Balosar. The feeling hadn't been so strong when they met three hours ago but Eli was there too. The woman suddenly realized it would be the longest time she would spent alone with a quite attractive man since...forever. Remembering her previous pilots were all females. She now also remembered why...

”So...what about my quarter...” Golda nervously fiddled with her bag, staring intently at the floor as if it had a map of the whole Galaxy painted all over.

(((Here's a link to Pak's ship, just in case...
Also, I sent you a PM to discuss this plot further.)))


He couldn’t believe that he had forgotten such an obvious thing as introducing himself. Generally Pak made sure he got it out of the way first, before any deal was ever reached. Better to put everything up front, just in case any of the information may compromise the agreement between him and a potential passenger. The fact that he hadn’t thought about his faux pas until the woman was on ship was something he didn’t really want to dwell on. It could mean any host of things, most of which left him a little unsettled at their possibilities. Instead, he decided to just chalk it up to the fact that she was female and that he was feeling the loss of Shen a bit more deeply because of it. Just his mind grasping at straws.

Tearing himself away from his thoughts, where he had briefly tarried, he nodded at the woman and gave her a polite smile. “Nice to meet you, Golda.” He could sense the woman’s nervousness growing as she gave her own name, and he briefly wondered whether she had given her true name or just an alias. She obviously seemed taken aback enough to have offered the real thing without thinking about it. But Pak didn’t waste too much energy on it; he took all kinds of passengers, including those who preferred to remain anonymous. Knowing what the woman went by would only make speaking to her less formal, and that’s as far as it would go. The Balosar wouldn’t use it against her.

She tried to address him his last name, and it came out jumbled and only half-spoken. Inwardly, Pak grimaced. It might have been her nervousness, but with the experience of one who was burdened with such a name, he knew it was nothing as complex as her jitters. The blonde woman wouldn’t be the first to have trouble with his name, nor the last. He realized he probably should have done a better job when introducing himself, giving her more to go by. Though, generally only his good friends called him by his nicknames, but he hadn’t had one of those in a good deal of time. Plus, even if he felt right telling her, he wasn’t sure that this Golda would be comfortable using one of those. Pak went with something a bit easier, hoping to help out the woman. “Er, you can just call me ‘captain’ if you want.”

Luckily for the both of them, Golda switched topics after the awkwardness of addressing each other, and it was a subject he was glad to speak of. He smiled at her again, this time a bit more warmly. His words came freely, though he kept a close hold on what he said. “No, it’s okay. I agree about the unusual nature of it. I… named her after a friend.” Hopefully he was giving enough to satisfy the woman without getting too specific. Pak didn’t want to reveal too much to her, a stranger—especially when beings like Alberts whom he could call friend didn’t know the reason behind his ship’s name. If he did, things would just snowball, and nervousness would be the least of their problems. Then they would wish for a bit of awkward conversation

Pak thought about explaining further, though hadn’t a clue how to do so without having to talk about Shen. But obviously Golda didn’t want further information on the subject, asking to be shown to her quarters for the trip, and he breathed an inward sigh of relief, hoping that the matter of the Requiem’s origins was over. His brief anxiety at having had to discuss the nature of his ship’s moniker disappeared, replaced by his usual easygoing nature. “Yes, ah, your quarters, of course. Follow me. I’ll finish the tour.”

Stepping towards the bow side of the common room, he gestured to a small door. “There’s the cockpit. If you ever need me for anything, I’ll probably be in there. Even during lightspeed, I like to hang out in there. If not, I’ll be in my cabin.” Pak shrugged, not able to explain his reasoning for doing so. Then he moved to a hallway opposite the lounge area from the cockpit, indicating things as he spoke about them. “Over on this side’s the galley. If you’re ever hungry, help yourself. Meals are included in your price. Across from that, there’s the four cabins. The big one on the end is mine, but you’re free to choose any of the others for yourself.” He stopped at the end of the hall. Through there is the medbay and then the cargo hold… but we shouldn’t have any need of that. Hopefully.” With a smile, he turned back to look at her. “That’s about it, I think. If you don’t have any questions, I’ll get her warmed up.”

Suddenly feeling very self aware, Golda straightened up. ”Nice to meet you as well.” Embarrassed by the inept tries to say the captains name, she escaped her gaze, fixing it on the nearest wall as if it had a Galaxy map drawn over it. The conversation made her feel out of place but the woman couldn't really say why but it was most likely her stupid tied up tongue that would always put her in troubles. ”Captain...” The woman nodded, trying not to let any more unnecessary words to spill.

Oddly enough the Balosar seemed similarly tense, maybe not as awkward but certainly not relaxed either. She wondered if it was because of her species or maybe gender. Or both. There was a chance the man was generally wary of strangers then again that would make his life job hard. Not being able to choose any of the possibilities the woman just settled with pushing the thoughts away. It didn't matter in the long run as it simply was a business deal.

”A friend?” Golda asked, with a bit of interest sparkling in grey eyes but the captain didn't offer any more details. It certainly wasn't a birth name of that mysterious friend, as Crimson Requiem could hardly be taken as one. Maybe a nickname. The woman caught herself on being more curious about a subject that didn't really have anything to do with her. It is nice to have someone you could name your ship after Flashed through her mind before fading away, leaving strange feeling of sadness she quickly buried beneath a pleasant smile and nod indicating that the topic was finished.

Silently, the woman followed the captain, letting her mind drift away out of focus, from time to time catching a detail about the ship. Not that Golda hadn't listened, she really did try but dealing with an angry, stubborn child all day and gathering resources, arguing with Eliana as well took a toll on the human who was now getting more and more tired. ”Thank you, I'll remember that.” Was her only response when they reached the kitchen. Food was the last thing the woman had on her mind right now though a nice meal later on wouldn't hurt. If she remembered that is as often happened Golda just forgot about eating, getting used to discomfort of hunger. A habit developed long ago, before major fights.

The captain turned to face her and she responded with her own, shy smile. ”No..no questions.” Golda shook her head and looked around. ”I will take this one...” After a moment of thought the woman chose a cabin at the far end of the ship. ”I won't keep you, go prepare your ship, captain. I will lie down for a bit.” Golda said with a sigh and entered her cabin. It wasn't something overly luxurious but neither was it a complete ruin. Many things one could say about the woman but not that she was picky about her accommodations. Lilting a soft tune, Golda began to unpack couple of necessities, trying to calm down growing discomfort which source she couldn't even name.

(((Sorry for the lateness of reply…
Anyway, I think this thread’s about wrapped up. One most post from you, and then I'll close if off andl get the next thread up and running. If it's okay with you.)))


Pak breathed a silent sigh of relief when the woman—Golda, he had to remember now—didn’t come up with any more questions for him after the brief tour of his freighter. The Balosar felt like he had already revealed too much, and it would only get more troublesome during the trip to Nar Shaddaa. Golda seemed a bit of a loner, though, and maybe he would get lucky, and she would keep to herself, as she had mentioned earlier. If not, he’d just have to be extra careful to avoid starting conversations with her. He wasn’t sure if he could deal with any more probes into his past, whether purposeful or accidental. Not that she would do such a thing, but one never knew; he recalled seeing a bit of a spark of interest in her eyes when he sidestepped the question of his ship’s name.

In acknowledgement of her accommodation decision, he nodded. “Good, good…” Pak couldn’t help but notice that she had chosen the cabin that was the farthest from his own. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to worry about keeping his distance from the blonde woman. She seemed to be content to take care of that end for herself, at least for the present moments. “Make yourself at home,” he added, as she stepped inside her new quarters. He stood for a moment, noticing the woman’s sigh and feeling its accompanying emotions through his antennapalps. But he just shook it off; it was probably just the stress of the day finally letting up. The Force knew how much she had to deal with with that child of hers.

With one more look at the open doorway of her cabin, he turned and started back up the hallway. It was time to get this little journey started. The sooner they left, the sooner he could drop her off. The sooner he’d be able to shake this confusing and uncomfortable tension that had developed around the two of them. This thought stopped him in his tracks, though, as he remembered something else. “Er, I’ll let you know when it’s time to strap in for the takeoff. There’s a comm speaker in your cabin. And the crash couches are in the big common room and also a couple seats up in the cockpit.” Pak called over his shoulder, inwardly chiding himself again for forgetting yet another important detail. The Smuggler’s moon couldn’t come fast enough.

He took a deep breath and finally made it all the way to the cockpit this time. Feeling the warm embrace of his captain’s chair made him feel a bit better. This was something familiar and recognizable to him. Pak started flipping switches and levers, getting the sublight engines going and all the other necessary systems. Next came the repulsors so he could retract the landing struts. A check of the console in front of him showed that everything was in order, and he grabbed hold of the control yoke. The ship started to lift up from its landing pad, and Pak commed control for permission to depart and which lane to use. The order came quickly enough, and he pointed the ship’s nose towards the given vector that would take him safely through Coruscant’s atmosphere and then far enough away to enter hyperspace.

Pressing the button to open the inter-ship comm channel, his voice came out through all the speakers inside the Requiem after a brief crackling. “Sorry to disturb… but you’d better strap in for the next few minutes until we hit lightspeed. Could get a bit bumpy. Captain, out.” Taking his own advice, he kept one hand on the yoke while with the other he fastened his crash webbing around himself. Now that he was doing the one thing that came naturally to him, he was surprisingly calm and collected, back to his normal self. Somewhere between complete professionalism and utter chaos. For the present, everything seemed right in the galaxy. Of course, he thought, a nice bottle of alcohol wouldn’t come amiss, either, as the red freighter continued on its way into the sky.

As offered, Golda tried to make herself comfortable. The woman strolled around the cabin, looking and touching everything. It gave her a comforting sense of safety and control. She unpacked few trinkets and basic cosmetics trying to stuff away the unpleasant feeling of anxiety that was growing with ever passing minute. To no avail...Her trembling hand scooped a small bottle of pills. The label was unreadable by now, a mild tranquilizer. Three yellow capsules landed on Golda's palm. She swallowed them quickly, without any water. After couple of years the woman had mastered this feat.

Warm feeling of inner peace embraced her, making the woman comfortable enough to lay down on a simple bed. Her eyes trailed off to look for a speaker but it wasn't out in plain view. With a sigh, Golda stretched like a spoiled feline, close to falling into a short nap when the captain’s voice broke the silence.

Gentle hum of the machinery followed her to the common room where she found few crash seats. Normally the take offs always bothered her but the meds made her to be so indifferent, pleasantly detached. Enough to barely notice any tremble. Instead the woman's thought trailed off a bit to Eli and home she had been leaving behind. A pang of worry still gnawed at her it seemed.

Golda once again ran her fingertips over her datapad to check if everything was in order. Money had been left, prescription for Eli's medicine taken care of...What was missing then? No, nothing. Just a silly compulsion. The datapad was shut with an angry sigh coming from the woman's lips.

Automatically, she braced herself as the ship lurched forward into hyperspace, listening to the sound of heated engines. Idly Golda wondered that the captain had really pleasant timbre of voice.

((Sorry for short post, I always had troubles with endings D:))