Separate Ways (Deceit)

[Squee]

“Mistress.”

Tesa cringed visibly, her concentration interrupted. No, she didn’t want to deal with the droid. She ignored the whirring of it mechanical gears spinning. Her shoulders relaxed and she lifted her chin to its original position. As easy as breathing, Tesa emptied her mind and quieted all noises. All sense of feeling discontinued until she’d reached the dark center of herself. It was her and tranquil darkness. Almost immediately, Tesa opened up perception through feel. If she lingered too long in the still core, she grew quickly unsettled.

Many different feels sunk in through her skin. She was alerted to the movement of air as Insanus spun around her, trying to gain her attention. Tesa felt her chest stir with annoyance and she redirected her thoughts by seeking out another touch. One of her favorites was vibrations. The soft music she had playing through (most; the area Graffion resided was quiet) the ship’s speakers made the air shake gently. The metal of the ship was affected as well. It was an ever so subtle disturbance through the particles that Tesa could only sense by skimming the surface, as if she had hands on the wall. The ship itself actually lurched, but she would never have noticed without this meditation.

Sound. Tesa eased off her feel and submersed herself into sound. She could hear the small blip of malfunction in one of the instruments in the recording. The even hum of the ship’s engine. Her own heart steadily pulsed, overwhelmingly, in her new frame of consciousness and Tesa wove around in a pattern before she began to subdue the sound of throbbing in her own ears.

Yet there was another. This one she would not block. A flutter was all she could really hear over the ship’s multiple noises. Now to focus on trying to single it out. Like a spider, Tesa started spinning webs and nets to throw on the intruding sounds. Ideas constantly circulated and she spent a lot of time experimenting on different ways to dampen the noises. Just his heart. She only wanted to hear his heart.

Maybe thirty minutes passed and Tesa had only shoved off and maintained three-quarters of the jumbled noises. Her meditation lingered a moment as she grew frustrated to just how close she was to singling out the heartbeat. With a sigh, Tesa withdrew and opened her body again. She lifted her hands from the table, leaving a handprint behind, and rubbed her sweating palms on her thighs.

And she became very much aware of the weight on her head.

“Miiiiiiistreeeeeeeeess…” he called.

“Get outta my hair!” Tesa reached up, snatching the mechanical bird up. She had to untangle his metal digits from her waves and then she sat him forcefully upon the table. “Have you gone and lost your mind?”

“Yes. Can you help me find it?”


Tesa growled through her nose. Her fingers curling as if she wanted to strangle the droid. Instead, she bit her tongue and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “What do you want anyway?” She stood from the table and walked to the sink, taking up a cloth while she did so.

“Well, I originally came to inform you that we were a couple of hours out from our destination. Now I suppose that’s an hour and a half.”

“Anything else?”

“… There was something else?”

“Our bug problem.”

“Oh, yes, most of them have been terminated. The ones I found anyway. You did well.”

“How’s Graffion?” Tesa wrung out the cloth and hung it over the sink’s lip. She gathered her hair, taking the clip from the sleeve of her robe, and pinned her hair off her neck.

“You ask about him a lot.”

“How’s Graffion?” she repeated, irritably.

“In his room. Where else is he at this time? Besides, you should know since you practice your will bending every morning when he’s sleeping. Recall that time he walked in and questioned your doings?”

Tesa frowned at Insanus and left the galley. As always, the droid flew after her.

“You vowed then to always keep an eye on his whereabouts on the ship. Yet you ask about him. I don’t quite understand that.”

“Don’t need to. Just need to answer my questions.”

“I calculate funny things.”

“Calculate all you want, Insanus,” Tesa snapped back at him over her shoulder. “Isn’t it about time you shut down to conserve your power anyway?”

“Oh, I think that can hold for a few minutes.” Could a droid sound amused? Tesa thought she detected something smug within the droid’s voice. “You’re experiencing all those troubling, confusing, described as ‘heart-flipping’ little things called emotions. In other words, you have feelings for and/or care about Mister Maruhuey.”

And how could a droid arrive at such conclusions? What kind of programming or experience did Insanus have exactly? He freaked her out at times like these: where he could delve into the sentient psyche and philosophy. Insanus had also figured out she was a force user. All by himself.

“Graffion is under my care for the time being.”

“He’s a man. Since when do men need a woman’s care?”

Tesa gritted her teeth. “I’m flying the ship, Insanus.” At the time, she’d entered the ship’s cockpit and swung the pilot’s chair around. She sat down, crossing her legs, and lacing her fingers. “I’m sure he wouldn’t want me to crash us into some asteroid.”

Insanus settled onto her knee. “You’re talking around the subject.”

“I’m speaking truth. If I were to say yes or no, you would simply call me a good girl for admitting it or say that I’m in denial. So, I lay it out so the field is neutral, as is my relationship with Graffion. He is currently under my care, so, therefore, yes I care about him until I can get rid of him.”

“But you plan to…”

“Off!” Tesa commanded, reaching around the droid and flipping the activation switch. “Good riddance.” The droid fell over in her lap and Tesa let her fingers steeple before her lips. The droid had drawn out some pretty obvious points that Tesa had recognized even within herself. She was growing a fond attachment for the blond-haired assassin. She liked him. But it wasn’t anything like what Insanus was implying.

She’d be nice to Graffion. Hell, she was already nice to Graffion. He was living on her ship!

The question wasn’t if she liked Graffion, however. It was if he was liking her, because that was specifically the intention.

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Graffion lay still in his bed, the gentle rise and fall of his chest the only sign that he was even alive. His breathing was quiet, silent almost. His head lay gently on the pillow, blond hair brushed to the left, right cheek against the pillow and his sleeping head staring off to the right. His eye was closed, but even in his sleeping state, his mechanical eye still worked. It was on, and it was recording everything it saw, flipping between Electromagnetic vision and heat vision every so often.

There wasn’t much to see. Mostly the every so often that the bird, Insanus, poked around his room. The first time Graffion had awoken and it said it was looking for ‘bugs’. Plausible. But it returned many more times, usually while he slept, and those times he purposefully remained asleep. It was watching him. The little bird was spying on him. ( Although it was very possible that Graffion was just paranoid, and certain that he just distrusted Insanus. )

The thermal vision, upon later review ( for he recorded it and watched relevant changes in environment when he slept ), often revealed little. The thickness of the walls of these ships did not allow the sensitive thermal vision to see heat waves through the metal barriers. However, his predictions was that Tesa only kept tabs on him during the mornings, when he slept.

Once he had stumbled into the bridge to find her in a meditative stance, perfectly still. She broke out of it quickly and came up with excuses that were plausible enough. However, Graffion had more than his suspicions that something terrible was amiss, and that perhaps he had made a mistake in choosing to go back for her. This morning, when his eyes snapped open, his heart was thrumming, his mind was pulsing with thought.

Burdened as he was, he still rose to his feet, shaking off the groggy sensations which clung to him endlessly. In a few moments he was once more awake and alert. Taking the covers off, he began his normal morning routine. Graffion did not like space travel, but he'd learned to cope with it. There were two red cloth bags in the corner of the room which held his clothes, one for dirty and one for the clean. He ignored those, reaching to the side-table next to his bed and grabbing the folded and neatly pressed clothes which he had prepared the night before.

His clothes on, he proceeded to the bathroom to shower, where he also shaved and brushed his hair, neatly styling it in his typical fashion, with the hair down in back and bangs to the left to veil his face. Normally, he would wear a smug grin along with that, but today was different. Today, there would be no grinning.

Once Graffion had finished with that he moved to his room and gathered his equipment. Normally, in the relative safety of this ship, he left his weapons. Today was, once more, different. Graffion looked through his armory, and began ponder. His armory was within the closet, and consisted of three steel suit-cases of medium size.

His hands hovered near the first case, which held knives, flash bombs, pistols, and some other useful equipment of the like. The second case had other materials; rope, a cloak, door slicing materials, the multitool which he had borrowed on Empress Teta from a previous 'friend' ( he had deemed the device quite useful ) and ammunition for some of his weapons. He didn't even look at the final case, which he knew he wouldn't need. It contained a high power sniper rifle. A powerful particle charge which would drill a hole through almost any armor from 200 yards away. Infinitely useful for an assassin.

He did not take any of this stuff. He replaced the three cases and headed back toward the bed. Reaching down he grabbed something that was underneath it. It was a belt, upon which two twin swords ( and their respective sheaths ) were hung. They were beautific; polished iron blades, well forged, with a supreme grip that was both fanciful and practical. The swords featured long, slender, curving blades which ended at a deadly point, but had very small wrist blades.

These were a true killers weapons. He only used them on the most dangerous jobs.

Today was a very different day in deed. He buckled the belt around his waist and stood up straight. He was clad in his typical black garb and cloak.

Graffion strode out of the room and headed straight to the bridge. Upon entering, he said nothing, merely stood in the doorway and stared into the room.

[Squee]

Tesa sat there for long, stretched minutes, poking her lips into the steeple of her fingers. She merely contemplated. She considered herself: her doubts, her fears, her purpose. Well, doubts simply could not be allowed entrance. To allow doubt would be opening the passageway for worry, and worry would make her insecure and degrade her from the inside out. Any and all doubts had to be exposed immediately, and she had to assess them, and then convince her to not doubt.

Fears… she didn’t have many. Tesa had worked almost obsessively to not fear. She still trained her mind to be resistant to the reactions of fear. After a certain period of time, Tesa had desensitized herself to the most basic fears and a number of the trivial ones. The only trivial fear she had was of spiders, and Tesa didn’t have a guess as to why the eight-legged freaks frightened her so much. She accepted her fear of losing control, especially after this last trip in Empress Teta, where she was immobile. There had been no control, and Tesa had experienced small outbreaks of panic.

She justified that fear with the idea that it was control she adored most about her life. She loved the control, the power, of being able to make decisions not only for herself, but also manipulate, to control, other people. Her amusement stemmed from what she could make other people do. Tesa was simply too used to being able to puppeteer everything that a slip-up could make her faint.

Her purpose… she had several different purposes in her life that she wished to fulfill. Here, on this ship, her purpose was to gain Graffion’s trust. Graffion was her experiment. Could she, indeed, manipulate him without forcibly imposing herself upon him? Could she control him into liking her enough, and then reap benefits of having a loyal bodyguard? It was a test of her skill, and exercise to better herself in her skills.

But doubt had been instilled by Insanus. The purpose of Graffion liking her had nothing to do with her growing attachments for him. In fact, that was where she was barring herself. No fond affections. Yet… yet… well, damn it all! she did like the assassin. Her fist came down on the chair’s armrest as Tesa drew in air and exhaled, pushing with her feet to turn the chair some. She also had another fear as of lately: Graffion knowing exactly who she was, especially knowing he didn’t like force users. Once he knew he was in the presence of user, there would likely be anger, and if it were revealed prematurely, Tesa would have to let him slip through her fingers. She would lose her control. And then she will have failed, which turned around on her abilities and skill, which will have been the object of her failure. Then there’s doubt within her regarding her abilities.

Tesa gritted her teeth. An awful cycle! This is what occurred if she failed. While Tesa did not plan to fail, there’d been far too many surprises for Tesa to deal with. Like Insanus’ ability to randomly become looser lipped than a drunk getting a lap dance. There was Graffion walking in while she was meditating. She’d had to quiet Insanus as he’s flown around the ship. There’d been times where she’d gathered the Force to help her with something, and she’d had to control that urge because Graffion was in the same room. Once she’d levitated something without a conscious thought in the galley when Graffion had just left. These times freaked her out.

What if he found out while on this ship? Before she could sell it? He had nowhere else to go. Nowhere to escape from her. Would he try something on her? Tesa didn’t want to hurt Graffion…

“No,” she snarled angrily to herself, standing up in a sudden fit. No, she’d hurt Graffion if she must. No, scratch that. If Graffion found out and pulled anything toward her on this ship, she’d kill him. That’s what she would do. It was what must be done.

Could she even kill Graffion?

Doubt! Doubt, doubt, doubt! Tesa began to pace in the small space of the cockpit, feeling her frustration rising. Of course she could kill him! What kind of question was that?! He knew nothing about her power! He didn’t know how to wield it himself, and she matter that she had a supernatural gift and knew how to bend it to her will triumphed any sword or gun he could unsheathe. A little push and he’d be disarmed. An outstretched palm would hold him in place, and she could remove his memories before dumping him on some backwash planet.

Did she really want to?

Well… no, she didn’t.

Something was in the doorway. Tesa looked up from the ground suddenly, startled, and flinched. “Gizkas and sea monkeys!” she gasped, clapping a hand on her chest and backpedalling into the back of the pilot’s chair. Her other hand grabbed the chair, steadying herself as she recognized Graffion. “Oh, Graffion!” Tesa had lowered her guard and her sixth sense on Graffion’s monitoring, thinking he wouldn’t be up just yet. Apparently, she was very much wrong. “Um… good morning? Since it is currently morning on… several… different planets…?” With an exasperated sigh Tesa covered her face with both hands, feeling her embarrassment rising to taint her cheeks. “There something you need?”

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Graffion glanced at Tesa. He felt a confliction of emotion within him. “we are in a constant state of war…we are at war with our hearts.” He whispered, although he was not sure if it was loud enough to be heard. ( quoted from the movie, War Inc. ) Graffion strode slowly into the room not looking at her. He took a seat near her, still without addressing her or even looking at her, save for the earlier glance, “Do you know who I am, Tesa?” He asked, leaning back, his head craned and staring at the ceiling.

“Right, I suspect you didn’t when we first met, but I’m sure you looked it up right quick. And yet you did not fear. You know how many I have killed, it is why you are confident in me. It is why you have given me such tasks as you have. So yes, you’ve looked me up, and you know what I’ve done lately, who I’ve killed…somewhat, and how I got this.” He glanced at her now, twitching his head so that his bangs revealed his metallic eye and face.

“But I doubt you know who I was as a child.” He sat up and looked straight Tesa now, intensity in his eyes, “I am a monster, Tesa. I am a killer. Not because of what I do now, but because of what I have done then, even as a child, I was a monster.”

“You should know who I am, Tesa.” He smiled, “I was born near a lead factory on Coruscant, I helped my father operate heavy machinery. I helped put in rivets, helped weld, at a young age, I experienced danger and hardships. When I was still young, I beat my father to death right in the middle of the kitchen...My mom watched, we were eating breakfast at the time. I left, and met with a man named Artemis Entreri. The story become obvious from there..." He said.

"But Tesa, know that I am not a man of great heart, nor compassion, nor honor." He reached to his sword and slowly unsheathed it, tracing his finger along it's blade, "I do not place my faith in others, nor trust. Nor have I ever put my love in anyone. The murder of my father was survival. The murder of everybody else was just for fun."

Thoughts of Entreri flashed through his mind, and his eye seemed to narrow slightly, even seemed to grow darker, as though he were sucking the light out of the air around him. He licked his lips lightly and looked away, "I'm not a man Tesa. I'm a monster. I am a creature of the night. There is no room in my world for..." He paused, then spat out with contempt clear in his voice, "Compassion."

He held the sword up, then sheathed it in one rapid motion, "I've told you...more than I've told anyone except for Entreri." He said, "So, you know who I am." Slowly he looked up, and his voice suddenly became deadly serious and had a spite to it he had not given before, "And I still have no idea who you are. I would like to know Tesa..."

He leaned forward so that he was closer, so that his eye held firm with hers, "I would like to know..." There was a moment of silence, a tense moment; his face screamed violence, screamed hatred, screamed distrust, yet his demeanor, his posture, had turned calm, proffesional. Like a hit-man talking down to a mark who was tied and captured and ready to be shot.

Suddenly he leaned back and smiled, "Who are you, Tesa?" His demeanor switched from proffesional to calm and casual, but something about his smirk belied that outer calm. Parts of it were geniune, but there was the faintest trace of nervousness.

[Squee]

“Pardon?” she asked in retaliation to the whisper she could not hear. He did not repeat. So, as he sat down, so did she – spinning the pilot’s chair around so she faced toward Graffion.

Then he asked a silly question. Know who he was? And, as he continued, he answered the extent of her knowledge about himself. A silly question, indeed. The only thing she would have said was she only had acquired what she knew by those willing to speak or… relinquish that knowledge to her: willingly or by her “persuasion”. Yes, she had been determined to collect what was known about Graffion, but she’d picked up a lot of rumors and stories as well, and those could be twisted into half truths or lies.

A child? Why would it matter what you were as a child? Why was he telling her this? Did she have written across her forehead “Come, Tell Me Your Worthless History”? Her elbow planted into the armrest and her chin fell within her palm. What does it matter? Gently, pushing and pulling with her foot, the chair began to twist into small circles – left… right… left…

The murder of his father… well wasn’t that a bit cliché? So many stories had it portrayed correctly though. Have a son, the son grows up, and when they reach a certain level, they kill the father, and the cycle continues. Simplistic but necessary cycle. Oh my, her thoughts were wandering…

The sword definitely brought her back though. Why was he armed? she asked herself. A look of brooding had fallen upon her with her pursed bottom lip and furrowed brow. She continued to control the swivel of the chair just as she continued to keep her ears open to listen. He was now saying some interesting things. Not so much his words, but his choice of words and how he said them. Was she reading too much into it? Or was his choosing of the single word “compassion” signify something more deep? A fear? … A hint? Tesa refused the smirk.

Her chin lifted from her hand and she folded her arm down, then crossed her other arm to drape it on the same armrest. She crossed her legs and leaned to the side. Her eyes continued to study Graffion, bringing it to her intention the sudden malevolence he stared upon her. Why, Graffion, would you put forth threatening intentions and ask for my history in a breath? It took her a moment, but she realized what he was trying to accomplish. Frighten her subtly. The accomplishment of doing so? She daren’t lie to him. I won’t lie to you, Graffion. I’ve never thought of doing so to you.

“You wish to know, or do you wish to judge? That’s the tricky thing about giving away history; you’ll be judged. And I assure you that if you judge me based upon my history… well, the surprises will be frequent.” She smirked. Tesa twisted the chair by a large degree and stared out the forward viewport, looking at the nauseating swirl of hyperspace. She was silent, and then she stood from her chair and paced to one side of the room. Was she so hesitant to spill her history? Well, no, she didn’t give a damn, quite frankly. However, Tesa did have to omit the pieces pertaining to any sort of Force training. How did she explain that to a man who is said to dislike users?

“Very well,” she said. “My mother died after giving birth to me, but my father being the decently wealthy business man he was, or is, he remarried before I had memories. The woman home-schooled me, since Daddy’s little girl was going to be next in line for business. And because of that strong belief that I would be just like my father, I got to go on several business trips before I was ten.

“The only one of any significance is the one I went on when I was eight. It was some reworking compact trip with some twi’leks and there was one particular man who stood out, but that’s because he and his little runaround and very unpleasant reptilian hench-boy kidnapped me on the second night of the three day trip.” Tesa left out the reason why, but she withheld that information.

“A very… successful kidnapping too. The older man liked me. The reptile disliked me,” Tesa chose this moment to outline the scars on her face as she looked to Graffion. “I hated both of them. They wanted to train me for some purpose. Bad, bad men they were. I dismissed them, their teachings, and their presence for a year before finally submitting because… what was the point of refusing when they weren’t going to take me home. So, I learned a couple of the things I allowed myself to learn. Then the reptile killed the man and I fled off into the streets of the Force-forsaken planet rather than be murdered myself and eaten.

“From there, I fell subject under a certain ruling: master and apprentice. Familiar with it? Some harlot woman took me in. I hated her. She later got herself killed. Met yet another dreadfully ignorant man who I sucked what I could tolerate learning and then poisoned him. By no means do I consider myself a master of anything for the poisoning. I believe in face to face confrontation.

“The next person to come along was a man named Saalem, and he’s the only one I remember by name.” Though Tesa didn’t realize it, a sort of fond warmth flooded her voice. Her eyes redirected to the floor. “I liked him. He taught me much of what I know today, and taught me how to enjoy doing what we did. He passed on by natural causes, unfortunately.

“Then it was time to stop playing around and join an organization. I exercise my skills by taking on jobs. The… dog doing to the master’s bidding, if you wish to compare. But, I don’t mind. The job gets done, I have fun, and I have a place to sleep at night.” She smiled briefly as she looked at Graffion.

When she spoke again, a chill entered her tone, latching onto her words. “Know something, Graffion, Saalem is most responsible for what I am today, and for what I know. I know how to play with peoples’ heads. I can successfully brainwash men and women. I can rape the memories of a person in a given time. I like to play nice and heal wounds before subjecting my victims to a round of their most feared horror or fear. I like the fear – fear of death, and when they begin to realize they’re losing their mind, they fear themselves. When the screaming becomes too frequent, the fun has ended.” Tesa felt her heart pounding with nervousness as she watched his expression. Would he understand why she’s saying this or would he think she’s toying with him now? Does he believe she’s withholding from him?

“The killing itself isn’t so much enjoyable. Death is absolute. It’s more amusing when someone else does the killing.”

Her eyes downcast, she placed one foot before the other, placing herself directly across from Graffion in the small area of the cockpit. She spoke softly, “So, Graffion… riddle me this…” Her eyes lifted back up to match with his. “How can I judge your monstrosity when the bestial nature is potent within myself? What matters it now?”

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Graffion heaved a great sigh when Tesa had finished with her tale of where she’d been and where she’d come from. His entire mood had changed completely, “You cannot judge me, Tesa.” He replied, rising, and sadness poured like a fountain from his voice. He looked at her, and his sullen look slowly began shifting.

She had lied to him. From the very start she had lied to him. No, maybe not a direct lie, not always, but she had neglected to reveal some incredibly important things. Graffion had trusted her, had almost fallen for this wench that he’d only just met! Why was he so surprised, why did it hurt so much that she had deceived him? It had nothing to do with his pride as an assassin. It had everything to do with his pride as a being.

This conversation was not about who they were, the crimes they committed, or where they came from, but it was certainly about judging. He had given her this opportunity to come clean, to cease the deceit, and tell him what he knew. She had not lied about her passed, but she had clearly taken away pertinent details, the very details he needed to know. How could she be trusted? How could he care for her? No, he had given her this chance and she had failed him. Now, he certainly could Judge her. With the blades in his hands, he was determined to judge her.

Outrage made its way onto his face. He glared at Tesa, and when he spoke, his face contorted with rage beyond that he’d ever allowed himself to show, “But I can judge you, FORCE USER!” He screamed. His hands reached down and gripped the hilt of his swords, ready to unsheathe them and take her throat all in one fluid motion, it would be simple, easy, fast. He found that he was not drawing his weapons on her, though.

So there he was, standing in front of Tesa, holding his swords so tightly he thought he might crush them, or that his whitened knuckles would tear, that he would simply explode. He tried again, but there was no familiar sound of his swords unsheathing and no gasping of a dying victim. His inability revealed more about him than he would ever admit to anyone. It revealed his love, and that left him truly feeling naked.

Graffion tried again and again, but found that he could not. Suddenly he let out a great cry of rage, and one blade unsheathed, but instead of slicing at Tesa, he turned and threw the scimitar against the floor, where it clanged and bounced against the walls.

Slowly, he turned back toward Tesa, and his eye was red with tears of rage and sadness of betrayal, “I find that I cannot Judge you Tesa. Force user. I shall return to my chambers for the remainder of this flight, “Do not even think about approaching or I may find myself in a less forgiving mood.” With that he turned and left the bridge, heading to his chamber to hide in his newfangled shame and to simmer his rage.

[Squee]

A very slight smile turned her lips: “I thought not as well. So I have not.”

Graffion’s sudden sadness did not flutter by her notice. She doubted it could by anyone. It puzzled her why he would be upset, unless he wanted to be judged. It didn’t make much sense to WANT to be judged, however, not to Tesa, who disliked being judged, especially solely on her past. The small smile, which appeared more as a smug smirk, faded a little as she tilted her head sharply much like a questioning dog. She said nothing as of yet, knowing she should ask if there was more he needed, but she sat thinking instead. So the silence settled much like her lower back against the back of the pilot’s char.

As those amber eyes of hers traced the lines of the fleshed side of his face, she calmly watched it conform. The smooth transition from sullenness to solemnity to an emotion she knew all too well: anger. The last shred of her smile vanished, leaving behind the expression of someone who understood what was coming. Tesa shifted her leaning weight off the chair just as Graffion screamed:

“But I can judge you, FORCE USER!”

“Of course,” she murmured airily, her gaze detaching from his face long enough to see his hand curl around the hilt of his sword. Into his one eye, she stared back with utter control of outward emotion, remaining a sure infuriating calm though inwardly her heart thudded heavily. The pretty beating thing plummeted. She could feel the pounding in her stomach, as if she’d swallowed her own heart. Sweat moistened her palms and dotted along her hairline. Besides those symptoms, she remained unnerved.

He hesitated.

“You’re going to kill me.” Not a question. Merely a statement. Tesa held his tense glare evenly, speaking directly to him, as if to convince him of the idea.

Still nothing but rigidness of his shoulders and the stillness of his hand.

“Do it.” Her fingers curled into fists and her nails pinched her palms. Her jaw clenched tightly. She was begging her death wish to the very man who could, and possibly might, bring it. Can I stare Death in the face and deny him my fear?

Did she wish to die? No.

Did she care that she did? Her eyes narrowed. Her thoughts raced through her head. You’re a loon, Tesa! they screamed to her. But who cared that she did? She was sure that if Graffion murdered her here, took her picture, and carted it around a while, he’d find someone willing to pay for her death. Not a one cared for her. Her master would find another when she didn’t return. The one thing she lived for were her own plans, and she recognized the futility of those plans though she made effort on them.

So, did she care?

Not really, no. How much did Graffion? His knuckles were bone-white now. He’s motions were as dormant as an suspicious volcano.

“This is your living, Graffion. DO IT!” A growl entered her voice as her volume raised. She shuffled a quarter of her foot toward him.

His cry, that burst of pent up rage, startled her, and he tore his weapon from its sheath. Like it had grown legs, her heart sprang from the acidic pits of her stomach to her throat, ringing like a bell. Though her body swayed backward, similar to the way a tree bows to a heavy wind, her fisted hands never left her side. Instead, her elbows locked, and flame licked her eyes. Here we go…

In her peripheral vision, the sword came up… but Graffion anticlimactically turned and threw it instead, absolutely enraged. Braced for nothing, Tesa stared in shock as his sword bounced unceremoniously against the wall and then clattered to a rest. The contours of her face immediately fell, the muscles loose, and the clench disappeared from her hands. Backward, she stepped, nearly reaching the wall.

“I find that I cannot Judge you Tesa. Force user. I shall return to my chambers for the remainder of this flight. Do not even think about approaching or I may find myself in a less forgiving mood.”

A tear, a product of his shame or rage, glistened on the bottom outline of his eye. He turned and fled immediately from the cockpit. As soon as his back was gone, Tesa released a howl of frustration, and threw her bunched fist in a hammer motion at the wall. Excess emotion flooded scream that halted with the heavy bang of her strike. With a final and thick gasp, she found the relief of her frustrations, anger, fear, and whatever garbled feelings there were from what had transpired.

She was upset with herself for Graffion finding out. She had wanted to tell him, and she’d failed. She was angry: angry at herself from being discovered, angry at Graffion for thinking to kill her, and angry again at herself for even tempting Death. Fear… Tesa knew now she feared Graffion. He had the kind of power to strangle her with one hand. But he didn’t. He hadn’t… hadn’t… No, it was too complicated to contemplate right now.

“Can you blame me, Graffion Maruhuey?!” She shouted after him. Then, muttering for her own ears, “It was the only way to keep you.”

---

“Mister Maruhuey?” The metallic bird floated into the room when the door opened. “I beg pardon to the intrusion, but Mistress Tesa insisted report on you and to let you know that the galley remains open. Your sword awaits you on the dining table.” The little droid landed on the nightstand. “To allow you safe wanderings, she’s confined herself to her chambers. Also, it would be good of you to know we’re about less than a half hour out from our destination, estimated. It will be night time on the side of the planet we are landing on, though.” Insanus paused, his metal talons clicking as his body turned to prepare for the flight out. “Anything to report? If not, I’ll be away.”

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

“Can you blame me, Graffion Maruhuey?!”

He heard the words clearly, though not what followed. As he faded from her view his anger and embarassment grew swiftly. Barely able to contain it, he retreated straight to his chambers. Damn her, damn this ship and everything in it! Blame her? Of course he could blame her! A force user, lying to him about her powers...Obviously she was either gray or dark, because she was not of the Jedi, or he would likely be in costudy or dead.

The door closed behind him and he threw his weapons off, disgust rising up in his throat like bile. He could not kill one foolish woman who begged for his death, a woman who had cheated and lied him. He disgraced the very weapons he wore, he disgraced his reputation, and he disgraced his ocupation. Graffion found his fist flying toward one of the steel walls. pain exploded, as with the skin on his knuckles. He retracted his fist, ignoring the pain, and punched again, this time his skin tearing and trinkles of blood finding their way on his fist. If he could not kill Tesa, he was of no worth as an assassin.

He needed to calm himself down. Thoughts of ending his life occured to him. If he could not be an assassin he had no purpose. If he had no purpose he had no desire, and without desire he would rather be dead, or worse, he'd fall in ranks and become like one of the scum he killed almost every day. A scowl draped across his face, and his eyes glanced at one of his weapons.

No. His failures to kill Tesa was important enough to demean his sacrifices. Graffion had gone through so much to get to where he was. To accept defeat now would make worthless every being who had ever sacrificed their lives for his designs, those whom he'd killed, his Master's struggles to turn him into the best, his own struggles time and again, it would make it all worthless if he could no longer take pride in it.

She was just one woman, one mistake. Many people had made many mistakes. He could live with this one. Tesa was obviously not one to care much about attention, so she would not publicly display his shame.

Tesa...What would become of them? What was he to do then? Move on and pretend it never happened? Why had she chosen him in the first place? What were her purposes?

Graffion had to think carefully. How did he meet her? What did she do when she first met him? She had deceived him then too, but to what design? She used him for jobs. She was a force user, and from the looks of it, not long on Tatooine, he guessed. So she didn't care about those gangs. She'd stuck around to watch the fight. Come to think of it, she'd watched the other jobs he'd participated in as well. Is that what she wanted? Did Tesa want to make a weapon of him? Did she decide she needed a lap-dog to nip at the heels of her enemies?

What kind of enemies would a force user have that he could do anything about at all?

It was all too much to think about. Graffion stood, disrobing his shirt. He walked over and picked up his one sword. After taking in a few deep breaths, he did the only thing that could calm him down. He fought, he trained.

~*~

The sweat glistened down his forehead and into his eyes, but he was use to the sensation and continued to swing the blade and move with it elegantly, his hair bouncing with the contortions of his body. He was in mid-combat when suddenly the door opened. He turned, the hilt in his hand, then not in his hand as it went flying toward the object which had entered. Insanus dodged with a wise hop and the blade skipped passed.

“Mister Maruhuey? I beg pardon to the intrusion, but Mistress Tesa insisted report on you and to let you know that the galley remains open. Your sword awaits you on the dining table. To allow you safe wanderings, she’s confined herself to her chambers. Also, it would be good of you to know we’re about less than a half hour out from our destination, estimated. It will be night time on the side of the planet we are landing on, though. Anything to report? If not, I’ll be away.”

Graffion had stopped and calmed himself once more, ignoring his own actions as though he had not just struck to kill the little bird. He moved forward and reached to scoop up his blade, then as the bird spoke, he put a new shirt on and sat down on the bed with a great sigh,

"Bird." Graffion addressed, "What would you do?" He asked, although he felt a little silly asking a droid such a question. It was more for Graffion than an actual question. Sometimes verbalizing the question helped him work toward an answer, "If you were in my position?"

[Squee]

The metal bird paused by the edge of the nightstand, obviously not expecting Graffion to speak to him. Insanus lowered his stiff wings and turned slowly back around to directly look at the assassin with that bloody-red visor that constituted for eyes. “Well, Mr. Maruhuey,” he began, slowly, after a long silence, “If you are truly asking then I will admit that I currently sit biased. I know of Mistress Tesa’s side of the story alone, since she turned me off prior to your… your discussion. Or argument. I perceived it more as an argument through her.

“While she may, sometimes, give all details, she will be heavily biased toward herself since she is a bit of the selfish sort. I am uncertain of her current opinion of you, since she was angry and deeply upset over what transpired. If anything, I’d judge her emotionally confused. It is a knack of hers, and if I remember, it is a number of women as well. In fact, I think I recall one such man who complained there was no such thing as a simple woman.

“She likes to believe she tells everything perfectly, logically, precisely, but to be honest – she’s a human. Or something closely resembling human. Not only is she human, but female. Logic and emotion get tangled all up and… well, the outcome isn’t very logical. She could infuriate a computer.

“What I do know is she personally withheld the discovery of her force abilities from you on purpose. Something about her knowing your distaste for them. Which means, and I know this by my own records, she never used her powers around you if she could help it. To my knowledge, she’s never exercised them upon you. So, Mr. Maruhuey, if you were curious as to whether or not you are a prisoner… No, you are not. You have free will. And as far as I’m concerned, she never intended to take that from you. Congratulations. She likes you.

“So now judge her. You have and you will. No matter I suggest – you dictate yourself and you will. Though she’s a selfish liar, she’s willing to watch you leave. She already did once before, right? Are we finished? May I leave without flying steal of death coming at me? Or is there something further?”

---

Tesa had paused just down the hall from Graffion’s room on her way to the cockpit. Insanus’s electronic voice had reached her ears, speaking about her. So, she eavesdropped for a few moments, learning the use her name was being used for. Then she turned sharply and walked the rest of the way to the her piloting seat. It mattered not what was being said. Tesa was sure he’d leave anyway. Thank you, Insanus, but it is futile.

Tesa sat down heavily and rested her hand upon the device that would ease them out of hypserspace. “Easy come, easy go.” Though what you say to me next, Graffion, allows me to know whether or not to appear in your near-future again. The timer ran out and Tesa began to push on the lever to bring them back to normal space.

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Graffion nodded and the bird hopped its way out. Graffion walked toward the bed where his folded and pressed clothing lay. He unfolded his shirt and slowly dressed himself, finishing with his cloak. His ritual was slower than normal. Moving to the closet, he decided to gear up. He would be leaving this ship as soon as it landed. And when he left, he would be fully equipped and prepared.

After he’d resheathed and re-strapped his sword and he added a holster and a blaster pistol to his side. He put all of his suitcases together near the door, then left his room, moving through the halls of the ship toward the dining room. He arrived to find his second sword. He gazed through the room for a few moments to find the sword right where Tesa had said it would be. He moved forward with caution, then picked it up to examine it.

The sword seemed to be in fine condition, except for the new nick that had been put into it from its collision with the wall. He scowled. What a wasteful treatment of his equipment. Understandably, he was angry, but he should never have abused his sword; it was unprofessional. So was letting her live. So was being on this ship.

He needed to get off this ship.

With a satisfying ring, he sheathed his sword and turned on one heel. Now he was headed toward the bathroom facilities. When he arrived, he found his bag that he’d left underneath one of the counters from the days he’d been in and out. He pulled the bag out and started rifling through, setting down his tools right next to him.

The first tool was a raser blade and shaving cream. He applied the cream and quickly began to shave what little stubble had grown over his face; he liked his face to be clean and slick. It was the mark of someone who took care of themselves and actually cared about details.

After the other standard grooming was finished, he pulled out a pair of scissors and hair spray. He quickly sprayed his hair with it, then took the scissors. Carefully and gently, he cut the strands that grew unevenly from his bangs, then he pulled the hair in back forward and examined it, finding a few spots to cut, keeping it even and taking an inch off. He preferred that it go no further than the middle of his back.

Once he’d finished making sure that all of his was growing even, he washed it and ran a brush through it for several minutes, getting the tangles out. It was a long process, and by the time he was finished, the ship had landed for a good twelve minutes.

Graffion moved through the halls and towards his room. He gathered his suitcases and threw on his cloak so that it almost completely covered him, leaving only his head visible.

He found the exit ramp for the ship, and without another word, without looking back, without thinking back; he left Tesa’s ship and Tesa behind.

[Squee]

With the ease of repeated motions, Tesa flipped switches as the ship broke the clear atmosphere. Her hand switched from the lever to the ship’s main control and she steered clear of the more brilliantly lit city center and guided the ship to the modest area where the lights twinkled less flashy. Prazhi. She would be dropping Graffion off in a place infested with many species and brimming with constant travelers. He’d be able to get off this planet easily when he desired. If he wished to return home, he was but a hop, skip, and a jump away. It would also be fairly simple to blend in. He would be just one of the couple million freaks on the street.

Which also made good for her.

Tesa guided the small ship over an open landing pad and steadied her hand on yet another lever, pressing a button. Moments later, the ship barely gave a jolt and moments after that, Tesa was shutting down while the exit ramp was lowering.

Then she leaned back in her seat and stared out the viewport. It was night time, so while there was activity to be seen, it was nothing compared to how it would be come morning. Hotels and bars flashed their colorful signs a couple hundred paces away, ready to attract and welcome the traveling man who wished a soft bed instead of a stiff bunk. The thought pleased Tesa. Especially since the air in this ship would take a day to clear out.

She rose from the pilot’s chair. While tugging her top down back snug, the Force touched her mind and stretched her awareness. Then she took the long way to the ship’s ramp, avoiding Graffion in the bathroom. She paused around the corridor corner, glancing briefly to assure herself she could see the ramp. Arms crossed and her back pressed to the wall, her ears awaited his footsteps. They sounded and never stopped, becoming duller as he passed down the ramp and further as Tesa knew he hit the duracrete.

She swerved slowly around the corner, arms still crossed tightly to her, her fists tucked under her elbows. Graffion was illuminated by a blinking signs only.

Insanus’s mechanics whirred as he hovered down from the hall. His weight settled on her shoulder. “So what’d he say?”

“Nothing, Mistress. Only asked me what I would do in his situation. Nothing further than that.”

“Useless, then. Very well. Insanus, go shut down and conserve your energy.”

Several seconds of silence. “Of course, Mistress.” His weight vaporized.

“Dockmaster!” she called out, drawing attention from the man approaching Graffion. “Leave my passenger be. I have your landing fee.”