Private Some Nights

[Drifter]

“You are one suspicious lady, aren’t you?” That polarized helm would stare down at Rhea, keeping Drifter’s face hidden away, but the slight cant of his head to the right would indicate inquisitive bemusement.

He shut the lid of the Ondonarian carved wood box with a distinctive flourish, mildly annoyed at what she was insinuating. The entire time he’d been with her, when did he ever give an indication he was anything like those from the Sith Empire? Like the First Order?

Like his grandfather?

Irritation rose to anger, the dark taint of his uncle’s presence influencing his harsh words. Her ungratefulness, her accusations, her barbed words after every measure of kindness and patience he’d attempted to show her. Even Drifter had his limits. After the events of that last battle, his patience grew shorter.

“No, Pippen, they did not come from the cold, dead hands of some Force User out in the battlefield. “ his snark held a measure of bite to it, unlike the joviality he showed before. An about-face and Drifter swung away from Rhea, taking his box with him. His tall figure ambled over to the modification bench, the cloak he wore swaying over his leather and songsteel armor with every purposeful step.

“I made that hilt. I force imbued my own energy into it. I haggled, bought, dug up, tracked down, mined, and hunted down every single item you see on this ship over countless planets. I went searching for old ruins for days exploring them. I spent hours in my father's study pouring over ancient tomes of the Moross gods, over the holocrons provided by my mother from the Jedi Order, scoured the databanks in anything I could find, be it light side or dark. It didn’t matter. Knowledge is knowledge and I wanted to make things.”

A measure of frustration radiated from his presence, and while the helm would hide the light, his eyes flashed with an amber glow.

“Jedi aren’t the only Force users in the galaxy, Pippen. Nor are Sith. It isn’t all black and white. Light or dark. There are thousands of Force philosophies, lore, history, all spanning across different planets and cultures.”

The hunter spun on his heel and turned to set a deadpan gaze to the woman, adding, “So maybe you should think a bit more outside the box than what the Alliance taught you. It didn’t help them then, nor would it for you now.”

A jerk of his thumb indicated the corridor to the right. “First door to the left. You can use that room.” By all intents and purposes, it seemed that Drifter was done with the conversation.

As if on cue, the rumble of the engine starting sent a quiet vibration through the ship.

 

[Rhea]

Rhea was left blinking rapidly, the sting to her eyes only chased away by the rapid motion. His strong response startled her, unseated her even. His words cut like lashes, some fair, others not. In the end she was left standing there with her back as straight as a pin. Heat flushed her cheeks, her expression pinching in a mixture of indignation and proper mortification.

He would find that she took a chastising rather well. Straight back. Unchallenging. Unresponsive.

When he had his full she was only left reeling. Because see, only a few words actually stuck inside her head. And one in particular bothered her greatly.

He got an ever so slight jerk of her chin in acknowledgement, her gut churning as she moved to her bag and picked it up with mechanical movements.

The words she should have said were ‘sorry’. Instead she moved to the hall and stopped, turning to look over her shoulder reproachfully.

“I didn’t say you had to kill for it.” Her hand tighten on her bag, the cylinder hilt of her saber outlined underneath. “I didn’t.”

She turned and left him to his silence. She wasn’t blind. If someone that social was done speaking, it was something to be respected.

 

[Drifter]

“I know what you meant. You didn’t need to say it.” Her body language had all but told a tale that she thought he collected this from dead Jedi. Whether it was through his own hand or just mere coincidence. It was all the same to him. The wary accusation in her tone, the way she’d narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion, down to the flicker of tension that ran the length of her spine as if bracing herself for the response.

“Galley is to the right. Help yourself to whatever to eat.” He spun into his heel. Should Rhea decide to comment, he’d likely stop. The way the Darkside was flickering through him made him itch for a fight. To lash out. To find pointed barbs to hurt her just as she had him.

At the edge of his mind, he knew he was overreacting. That this was not how he’d normally react. In the past, he’d laugh it off or make some outrageous claim; finding a lost treasure horde or winning a game of Sabacc with a trader. However, the consistent insinuations on his character clashed on his own insecurities after receiving an imprint of his uncle, Cameron, the embodiment of the dark side Moross god, Aaarox the Deceiver. He didn’t need anyone else questioning where he stood. He was already struggling internally as it was trying to convince himself he was the same.

But Drifter wasn’t.

 

[Rhea]

Rhea said nothing more. Maybe it was the lingering presence of the crystal she had become so focused on, or maybe she was too tired to fight. In honesty something had her stepping back, something about him making her uncomfortable that she couldn’t put to words.

But his accusations of paranoia left her doubting even that, the woman unsure where she might have been wrong and where he was… being weird.

A large part of her wanted to leave. It felt natural to, she didn’t even know him. Fights were tedious enough among well proven friends. What they had here was nothing more than a tenuous acquaintance-- A Simple conversation that had been predecessed by conflict and tension.

Yes, it would only be natural for her to leave. But she couldn’t. She needed that ride.

The situation felt as if it had slipped from her fingers. Alarms blared in her mind, but she had no choice but to ignore them … ignore him … and toss a wrinkled paper on the back of the couch piece.

She stared at him for a moment longer, then walked out. Straight to the room, where she could barricade the door and process the moment with copious amounts of stress.

… The barricade wouldn’t last long, his words cutting through her once again. As much as he had reached her there, sleep would not come. He had one gun but she had another. Tucked away and hidden in her under clothing. She would be foolish to let the words of a stranger make her lower her guard. She told herself that firmly as she waited on the bed as time would slip by.

On that paper? Coordinates.

She was almost through…

 

[Drifter]

Rhea wasn’t the only one feeling restless. As it was, Drifter had given a flick of hand, the Force surging through him to whip the crumpled piece of paper through the air towards his hand. He caught it with a snap, crushing it between his grip. Drifter barely unfurled the piece of filmsi and read its contents.

Without another word he spun on his heel and headed for the cockpit. Places to go, people to see.

~~
​

Time would drift by quickly enough. Drifter did not show up by Rhea’s door nor did he appear to come anywhere near it. Instead, the hunter was completely focused at the holographic topographic map-projected around him. He was in the conference room, Alexandria floating beside him, moving and sweeping around the projection.

Time was spent trying to dig up anything his databanks could find regarding the new Squib warlord. There was precious little. Skor II has seen one battle after the next. Be it the Sith, Alliance, First Order, or even the Confederacy. Among all that chaos there were plenty of opportunities for anyone to want to rise to power. Another warlord by any other name.

[ From my databanks, this appears to be a former First Order garrison. ] Alexa’s seductive low drone informed the hunter.

“Fantastic.” Drifter replied wryly, “Just like old times, breaking and entering into another First Order base.” his amusement was at an all-time low, impatience still coating his words. Even the time that had passed didn’t help dull the annoyance that still lingered.

[ My records are several years old from old Alliance surveys. There is no guarantee that the layout will remain the same.]

Drifter gave a groan, bringing his hand up to rub the front of his helm. He had yet to take anything off.

“You are just a ball of sunshine, Alex.”

[I am merely providing more evidence that this is a fool’s errand.]

 

[Rhea]

There was a childish side of Rhea that didn’t want to come out. But that was not how this worked. She could feel them grow closer, the time that passed enough of an indication that it was time to put on her big girl boots and go out there.

Enough of her own tension had passed, and while the woman still felt awkward, she was not the sort to cling to anger.

Ironic, right?

Still, she wasn’t ready to simply face him. She buffered this encounter by slipping out and making her way to the galley. At first her steps were light and quiet, but as the subtle fear in her was met with no resistance … she took to entering the galley at a normal pace. Cabinets were opened. Caf was found. All the while her eyes kept flicking up to the door, the woman entering a game of chicken.

Who would approach who first?

Round one. Start.

 

[Drifter]

“Yeah, well -- you know me, quick to jump in.”

[Because you are the fool.]

“Are you really supposed to talk back to me like this? Let’s discuss lowering your snark level down by a few degrees.” Drifter quipped back, glowering in the direction that Alex flew, watching her take an arch around the room.

[ You know that you cannot adjust any of my settings, Drifter. ] was that a touch of smugness in her voice? Yes. Yes, it was.

“But I can still lock you out of your charging unit.”

[But then how are you going to make sure your parents are unable to locate you without my assistance.]

Drifter’s eyes narrowed at Alex’s direction. Well played…

Alex’s ocular orb gave a brief flash. Her repulsor flaps flared once, twice. [ The stray has left her cabin. ] she came to hover just over Drifter’s head. [ And is raiding our provisions.]

Another glower of annoyance. This time at Alex rather than Rhea.

“Her name is Rhea,” he replied curtly. “Could we just avoid antagonizing her?”

[ The same could be asked of her. ] ah, right. Alex was plugged into every room. Likely heard their little tiff.

“Forget it -- back to the garrison… we need to find a place to land without letting the entire place know….”

 

[Rhea]

Rhea watched the water boil, the hum of the ships engines muffling the sounds from down the hall. The ever so slight chatter reached her. It was a comfort to know his location, but… she poured the steaming water through the grinds, letting it steep.

Weird that he was talking to a computer.

She pursed her lips, resolving to keep this comment to herself. Surely she had noticed his protective responses over the hunt of floating metal. The hours of solitude had assured one thing. Rhea had had time to think.

Perhaps she could hold off on unwarren-... her opinion.

At least while she remained so dependent on his aid.

They were far from any city now, and without a ship of her own to take her back she would be really remiss to piss him off at all.

This was important.

She took a deep breath, trying to still her speeding heart. Round two and round three had passed, and still, he had not approached her. The coffee had steeped to a deep black, and any more procrastination would turn its flavor into ash.

She pour two cups. Stirred them. Cooled them down. And with nothing else left to do, she picked them up and walked them down the hall. She paused at the cusp of the door, listening.

It wasn’t polite, she knew. But she couldn’t help herself.

 

[Drifter]

Alex’s repulsors would lift her up towards the 3D holographic representation of the garrison turned Squib warlord pleasure palace. Or at least, Drifter was calling it that. It made it easy for him to reference it with puns and jokes later. That’s what he had to keep telling himself anyways. It was a way to force humor into a place where he felt the Darkside linger. It had taken him time to try and calm down without resulting in another fight.

Maybe he should go visit Nohei.

[ There is a range of plateaus to the north that provides a natural barrier. ] Alex revealed, her ocular sensor flashing a pale green before the holographic map zoomed out to provide Drifter a topographic outline.

[ We can land here, but then it would require trekking three klicks to reach your objective.]

“Good thing I brought my hiking boots.” Drifter quipped, but the hovering droid ignored him.

[ Did you not register that I cannot confirm the extent of lifeforms from this distance?]

“Did that sound like you were volunteering? Totally sounded like you were volunteering to come with. What a trooper!”

The spherical companion droid swung right back to fly towards the hunter’s face, flaps waving back and forth as if to relay irritation.

[You think this is a joke? It has not been a month since you woke up -] Alex suddenly stopped, the ocular sensor dilating only to enlarge again. Her repulsors swung her around, facing the doorway.

[It is rude to eavesdrop on conversations you are not a part of. ] Ah, telling. Alex had detected Rhea. This promptly drew Drifter’s attention, his polarized helm panning towards the direction Alex had spoken. It wasn’t as if he didn’t realize she had been slinking her way over. Even with her attempts to be quiet, there were too many sensors and triggers that would alert him of anyone’s presence within his ship.

He also still had her keychain. If he wanted to, he could track her with it. One of the reasons why he hadn’t returned it to her.

Oh and because he was still vaguely annoyed at her.

 

[Rhea]

Rhea flushed, her lips pursing. Why was it that suddenly everyone read her like a book?

Her mild irritation was shoved back, a tempering voice echoing inside her mind.

Mission first.

She took a deep breath and stepped out, both coffee cups in hand. She thought of making an excuse, but a twinge in her chest advised her otherwise.

He was still angry.

She held out the cup, her gaze casted down. It wasn’t an apology, but he’d know a soldier’s gesture of respect.

Kinda.

He had yelled her out if the room, alright?

 

[Drifter]

Well, that was new.

Drifter gave a cock of his head, canting it to the right in confused inquiry at the outstretched cup. Not something he was expecting. It caught him slightly off guard. Not because Rhea was offering her version of an olive branch, but because the posture, position, the way that the threshold framed her -- hell, just the way the glow of the blue light from the holographic map seemed to paint Rhea’s hair a lighter hue. Blonde.

He frowned. It reminded him of his mother. Kalee’s Shadow was his childhood ship, one his mother and sisters would use to travel with her during her tenure with the Jedi Academy. As a traveling instructor, Jedi Master Kira Liadain spent months with her children on this ship. The room where Drifter told Rhea she could use formerly belonged to his eldest sister Esme. It was the neatest, most organized room on his ship. One she’d still use if Esme happened to be traveling with him; although it has been so long since that occurred in between the war and the fall of the Alliance that he had yet to see her since he woke up from his coma.

That trigger managed to make him hesitate a second, before he took a step forward, reaching out to take the cup of caf.

“Thanks.” Drifter replied awkwardly, still a bit thrown. Maybe for the better, as that emotion immediately overtook his earlier annoyance.

 

[Rhea]

She nodded, taking a sip and wordlessly stepping forward.

She continued to say nothing, their awkwardness mutual and filling the space between them. Her attention fell to the holograph, her brow furrowing in interest as she moved past him to study it.

It… didn’t look promising. Already she could see the many layers of old security measures inside the floor plan. How would they even approach? Nevermind search through such a large section of halls and rooms without raising any notice?

Tension slowly rippled through her body, the small bit of hope that had built up sign the proffered ride being dashed back out. Reality was a queen.

“Right,” she breathed, trying to pace herself. “Onto the next problem. Are these recent?” The final question was spoken with volume, clearly directed his way.

 

[Drifter]

The question snapped Drifter from his reverie. He gave a visible jolt, rocking back on his heels - and then immediately gave a curse as the caf threatened to slosh over the rim of his mug.

“Ah, hell!” he cried, proceeding to use both hands to try and balance it. Alex went zipping over his direction again, her triangular repulsor flaps twitching as if in annoyance.

[ You spill it, you clean it. ] It was a chiding remark that threw one-off by the sheer sensuality in her robotic voice, like a cafarel comm line or a Zeltron pleasure palace.

“Yes, mother.” Drifter’s sarcastic remark went slashing back at the droid.

[Are you inferring I should contact her?]

The speed that the hunter changed his tune was neck whipping. “You know what, maybe I should get a cleaning droid. Hey Alex, wouldn’t you like that? Would really perk up the place.” he backpedaled, moving through the holographic map towards the center console table that contained the holographic projectors. There, he set the mug down.

“They are as recent as they could be.” he immediately deflected any further conversation about his mother and contacting her with the speed of a child wanting to avoid getting in trouble. “A year or so. Maybe two?”

Alexandria swung her attention back at Rhea. [ One year, seven months, and twenty-three days from Alliance scouts]

Oh, that was telling.

Beside the table, Drifter swore.

 

[Rhea]

Rhea gave a small blink, watching turning to watch the affair with a raised brow.

The implications of their little banter went largely over her head, spare the details of his reluctance to address his mother or how out of date his records were.

Which was, by the way, rather shocking. “You haven’t updated your database in two years?” She stated, disbelief in her tone. She looked between him and the droid, some more facts falling into line.

“Just how long have you been on the run?”

Totally not her place to ask, but her little lesson on manners had already slipped away from her.

 

[Drifter]

Well, that didn’t take long.

Under his helm, Drifter gave a roll of his eyes. “Look, princess, not everyone has access to former First Order garrisons much the less subscribe to holomaps weekly for the most up to date intel.” His snark was palatable, shoulders rolling as the hunter spun back to lock his gaze on Rhea. Gone was the linked memory of his mother offering him hot chocolate while they prepped to watch a holofilm.

Right, reality bites.

“Unless you have anything better, my old intel on this place is the best that you got.” He leaned against the table, crossing his broad arm across his chest and hooking his left heel over his right.

As if daring her to state otherwise.

“It will still require recon, but knowing something is better than nothing.” His right hand gave a sweep over the holographic canyon and the small garrison in front of them.

The caf sat on the table, steam rising, forgotten. Any answer regarding how long he was on the run was pointedly not answered.

 

[Rhea]

Once again, his tone was biting. Rhea wasn’t one to flinch at someone’s tone, life had given her more than her fair share of think skin. But when you take a once unwaveringly cheerful person and switch them over to a tone that snapped?

Bit of an eye widener. In the kinda way that could keep a person tense and formal.

Alright fine, she had fucked up.

Her lips pursed, her back stiffening. She did not challenge his statement, she had zero interest in blowing things up any further and risking his help. She merely placed down her mug and crossed her arms back, observing the holocron.


After a long moment of working through her anxieties, she was able to skim the map with proper attention.

“....Here,” she finally murmured, pointing to the back end of the building. “The old drainage system. I know for a fact that space is too dry for underground reservoirs, meaning those old pipes are no longer in use.” She traced her fingers through the air, starting from pipes that snaked their way along a canyon mountain.

“Cut our way in out here, walk a way over through it. Should be fine.”

Famous last words.

 

[Drifter]

Drifter loved learning languages. He was already obsessed with history, various cultures, force organizations, weapon making… if he could pick up a tome, holocron, datacron, or heck, listen in to oral stories, he was the first one in line, excited as a child. Which is why when his mother, a Lorrdian, taught all the children kinetic communication, Drifter took it best. He found it fascinating how one could pick up on the subtlest clues to determine intent, to read a person’s body language and get to know things that they likely didn’t realize they told. It was an emotional and mental leakage; that didn’t even count the language by itself as well.

Solid pro; having the ability to pick up on cues and clues that could give a Zeltron a run for their money -as long as he could see their body or facial features and he understood the general biology - then Drifter had an idea of what was going on behind someone’s mind.

The only problem is that he couldn’t shut it off. He couldn’t ignore it. Once he knew, he knew; and unfortunately for his struggling consciousness, the hunter was already walking a line between his old jovial self and the one trying to keep his uncle’s influence at bay.

So when he caught the look of shock, noticed the arch of her brows in tension, the way she flinched at his words after she did her best to extend an olive branch, Drifter internally cursed at himself.

What am I doing?

Annoyance grew. Not at Rhea, but himself. As did guilt, frustration, and irony. His gloved hand came up, face-palming his visor as he rubbed it, wishing it was actually his face.

“Sorry,” he admitted, annoyance and frustration still coating his words, a heavy exhale flowing through that metallic timbre.

“Long day and you’re hitting perfect marks on Galactic Starfighter,” referencing a rail starfighter shooter hologame.

As if not letting a single second pass by to allow her to comment, he unlocked his heels and came up, gesturing to Alex to zoom in on the drainage system.

“Yeah. That will work. We can wait until nightfall and I can send off some recon droids.” He added, Alex for once not commenting. There was a time and place and while Alex was programmed to be snarky, she was also programmed to have Drifter’s best interests in mind. It was the only reason why she was actively hiding their location from Drifter’s parents.

Right now, after apologizing, it wasn’t the best time to try and get a rise from him. Even those instances had a purpose; made to distract him. She was his companion droid after all; besides Vexen, no one else knew him better.

 

[Rhea]

She didn’t expect the apology. Her mind reeled against it, first searching out for what he could gain by disarming her with it. Her trust? Her belongings— no. Her body.

Her thoughts zipped down their usual path, the walk way carved by years of experience telling her there was no other way but down its slippery slope.

For a moment she eyed him, a ball of wary mistrust. But one thing stuck out to her, one fact to the narrative that didn’t measure up.

If he wanted those things, he would have overridden the system and locked her in that room. It was by far her most vulnerable moment in his presence, and one that she had walked out of unmolested.

She gave him a self-conscious shrug, and that was that.


“Guess now’s the time to tell you I have a tracker.” She reached into her pocket, pulling out the oval device. A soft red light beeped at a slow pace, signaling a connection. “It’s not much, but it’ll lead us to it.” Better than wandering the place for hours, right?

 

[Drifter]

If Rhea could see Drifter’s face, it would have revealed dry bemusement. A tracker? How did it end up with a tracker? So many questions went racing through his head.

“A tracker? The gem has a tracker?” He repeated, giving a double-take. After a second of musing, he thought better of it. Squibs were rather finicky beings when it came to anything shiny. He wouldn’t put it past anyone to place some sort of tracker on it.

“Well, that’s a plus.” He crossed his arm over his chest again, the pliable leather stretching comfortably as he braced his legs about a foot apart.

[It won’t do you any benefit when you don’t know how much security will be guarding it.] perfect time for Alex to chime in.

“Maybe, but that’s what the boys can figure out for us,” taking a step back, Drifter turned back to the table, moving to shut off the holoprojector.

Calling over his shoulder, “You sure this isn’t just some elaborate plan to get you into a trap there Pitten?” he asked, wondering aloud due to the combination of a tracker and garrison. It was a shift from his earlier annoyance; the tension had left his shoulders and now making small talk again. It was a version of Drifter of the past. The one who would let things slide off his shoulders; as long as they were not a challenge. Then all bets were off. He was always the sort to dive in headfirst when it came to anyone making him feel as if he had to prove something. Trying to catch up with his sisters' many talents and stand apart as a result of that.

 

[Rhea]

Rhea shrugged at his confusion. “That or the box it’s in. …. they want the box back too,” she added with a grimace, the caveat withhold from him until now.

“It’s bejeweled I guess. … shinny things.” She shrugged, relaxing as he too did. He moved to clean things up. She spared the moment as a chance to chug at her coffee. Her restless days had not yet touched her, her body ripe with adrenaline. She only needed to thick about her circumstances to send another jolt raging through her. Call it anxieties, but she wasn’t about to let what kept her going slip away.

Healthy or otherwise.

She frowned at his question, her gut churning as the hot liquid washed down. “...possibly. But what for? They’re enemies. And if they want something from me, why send me through the loops out here?”

She paused, then grimaced. “They already have me by the balls. And if there’s one thing to trust— it’s their desire for their shinnies…” she didn’t sound sure, his words reaching her paranoia.