Cui Bono

Posted on Fri Jan 31st, 2014 @ 12:59am by Morgo Le'Shaad & Berry & Sev Rezer
Edited on on Fri Jan 31st, 2014 @ 2:25am

5,853 words; about a 29 minute read

Chapter: Chapter IV: Rezer's Edge
Location: Recreation Room, Red Raptor
Timeline: After "Res Judicata", Early morning

OLD

But she a feeling that only one such color would suit this occasion. Black.

To many this was a color of foreboding. Of evil and death. Her fist closing around the device as she strode out the doors to her laboratory, perhaps for the last time, Morgo just hoped that it was not their deaths it heralded.

NEW

A long, midnight purple nail input data into the console of the holo-projector, center room. The blips and beeps of the device were loud in the silence, with only the low hum of the ship’s functioning inertial dampener to keep Morgo company. Immediately, a map of the known galaxy sprung from the holo-projector, swirling around stars in the night sky, its ghostly blue light casting a soft, almost ethereal glow onto the woman’s skin.

With a flourish of her hand, the floating map zoomed in onto the coordinates she had input, showing a view of the infamous Jericho, almost insignificant in light of all around it, inconspicuously located in a no-man’s land between two territories, claimed by the Mandalorian Exiles.

Grey eyes, made ice-silver in the light, shifted about, scanning around Jericho—searching and finding their quarry in nearby dwarf planet called Nadroj, which was apparently about as isolated and backwater as it was insignificant, not even fit for raiding from their neighbors, the Mandalorian Exiles.

Yet Nadroj would be where they would take the Red Raptor for a few supplies, a much needed holocall, and handcuffs.

Pushing a lock of loose hair behind the shell of her ear, Morgo resisted the urge to re-arrange her hair, which had been done up in what Morgo had heard the lower class called a 'messy bun'. Pulled into a mass of waves at the back of her head, only a lone braid woven in along one half of her crown kept the style tight. Loath as she was to admit it, this hairstyle was the only one that gave the volume and freedom to slip in three hypo-spray vials, bacta, synth-flesh, a Dromachean dermal regenerator, and a small scalpel. Necessary, only because clothes and pockets could be taken from her—however, no one would bother to give her a scalp massage before incarceration. But Force, her head had not been designed to be a utility belt. The hair was, however, a departure from her usual, impeccable self. And that was key.

Her attire was changed as well. Clothed in black like a shadow, sans her cloak, Morgo’s jumpsuit fit like a glove and would protect her from minor burns and scrapes, the black collar standing so high and stiff on her neck that it was almost military in appearance. Strapped to her thigh was her cortosis staff, a comforting and familiar weight on her hip. Though, if things went according to plan, Morgo wouldn’t need the weapon for very long. The thought brought an almost grim expression to her face, her wine red lips thinning into a tight, worried line. Just for a moment.

“I know you’re there, Rezer.” She stated in the silence, not taking her eyes off the map.

From the shadowed corridor, Sev stepped into the light of the recreation room, steel boots gently clicking on the metal of the floor, thoroughly impressive in his full Mandalorian armor. Looking at the man, Morgo was reminded of the ancient days, where warriors ruled their empires—built on blood and iron.

And Sev was indeed a sight to see. His armor was an incredible piece of metal work, from the strong molding of the chest plate, to the broad bulk of the shoulders, Sev’s armor cut a masculine silhouette and exuded such vigor and might that it demanded respect.

Wearing no helmet, Morgo was given a direct line of sight to the gruff lines of his battle-hardened face, weathered and worn like a seasoned warrior’s ought to be. Looking into his hazel eye, Morgo had to suppress a shiver at the reminder that this man could snap her like a twig should he get his hands on her. Though he was a veteran, he was no old man.

“How long have you been standing there?” Morgo asked, almost sharply.

And while there was no smile on Sev’s face, the glint in his eye seemed to say that he knew how his presence had startled her.

“Long enough to know that your plan isn’t good enough.” He said, flatly.

Morgo resisted the urge to whip her head around and glare at the Mandalorian, reminding herself that he was simply goading her. He had acted childishly in her laboratory and she would not reward his actions with juvenile behavior of her own.

“Oh?” she said, voice dull. The arch of her brow was a challenge in itself.

Confident, Sev nodded, “No one who trusts their own plan makes the expression you were just wearing 10 seconds ago, Le’Shaad.”

“In the hour his reckoning, even the best general would question himself.” Morgo shot back, “Arrogant confidence is the death mask of the defeated.”

“And Jericho is to be our reckoning?”

Morgo chuckled, a dark sound.

“It may.”

Sev stepped closer so that he stood opposite to her now, with only the holoprojector separating them. The galaxy swirled slowly between them, but it did nothing to buffer the mutual gazes between bounty hunter and duchess, the room almost crackling with the intensity of the tension between them. Sev absently noted that Morgo could leave her eyes open, empty and grey, for an inordinately long period of time. But so could he.

And yet it was pointless. This was not what they were supposed to be doing—battling each other. Were they not allies in this cause? Unified by their aim to free Bomoor and Thane from captivity and certain death? Sev had never gotten along with the Lady from the start. Her elegant manner and oil slick words were from another world entirely, one that didn’t belong here this far outside the Core. Yet if there was a chance that they could make this rescue work and stay alive , Sev would have to put aside his disdain and work with the woman.

And if he knew what little of her he did, Sev knew that even if they both had brought the cestus, it would he him who would have to bring the olive branch. A truce. The bounty hunter only hoped the woman would not set it on fire out of spite.

Sev broke eye contact first, biting his tongue in irritation. He did not make concessions often. But when he did, he trusted that his opponent knew that it would not be offered a second time.

“This will not be our reckoning.” Sev declared, eyes cutting back to the grey of Morgo’s gaze, “Not while I can help it.”

He scanned the woman’s delicate face for any sign that she understood what he was offering, but her pale mask revealed nothing of use. And Sev was irritated to discover she was considerably harder to read when she knew eyes were watching. The fair hair tousled on her head, framing her face, was the picture of femininity, the black of her attire lending her mystery. Yet Sev knew there was nothing soft about this woman. Nothing vulnerable.

Morgo blinked, seconds passing in between the bounty hunter and the woman in silence. It was only when Sev saw the corner of her red mouth curl up in a secret smile that he knew that she had acknowledged and accepted his truce. He was not unwilling to admit that there was a twinge of relief in him, to know that the Lady Morgo would not be another battle he would have to concern himself with fighting, this time around.

“What do you suggest?” Morgo asked, a modicum of approval flashing behind her eyes, beneath dark lashes.

Berry strode into the rec room, a bounce in her sandalled-step. Her other braid was redone (albeit a bit crookedly), but with as much effort as she put in her battle outfit.

…that consisted of her darkest colored tunic and pants. The color was, of course, a crimson red. The tunic fluttered as she plopped onto a stool and beamed at the others. “Wow, you guys look great!”

Morgo turned head to look at the sudden addition to the room, noticed the frankly alarming shade of red contrasted on the girl’s green skin, and closed her eyes, letting her head hang very slightly as she sighed, her palms resting on the edge of the table to support her weight. It seemed the fool had chosen the brightest color she could possibly find and put them on. Battle worthy, indeed.

Sev’s voice was gruff as he spoke, laced with incredulity, “There is no kriffing way you’re coming with me if you’re wearing that ge’tal thing. You’d be a corpse within a minute! And I don’t carry corpses as dead weight.”

Berry chuckled. “Hey, my shirt's not that bad. They’re gonna see me anyway when I yell at them.”

Sev was gearing a retort when Morgo lifted her head and opened her eyes, expression only slightly dejected, as if she had just remembered that Berry was to be a part of the rescue, and that just Berry’s presence was likely to lower the chances of success by 51.2546%.

“Berry, darling,” Morgo began, tone dull, “I don’t suppose you have anything blacker and less revealing, do you?”

Because while red was an attention grabbing color, so too was the golden-green of Berry’s skin. And it would not do to have Berry be injured because she was careless of that fact.

"Nope. Nothing.” Berry stared at Morgo.

Straightening her posture, Morgo looked Berry up and down speculatively, “Then it seems I will have to take you shopping.”

The bounty hunter across the holoprojector from her balked, his expression growing thunderous, “Shopping?! At this hour? Purchasing new clothes is not what we need to be doing! We need to be readying a plan and make our way to Jericho . Of all the times to be high maintenance, woman, now is not the time.”

Eyes narrowing, Morgo levelled Sev with a hard glare, “Kindly hold your tongue before you know all the specifics of what we ‘should’ be doing, Mr. Rezer.” She snapped, “We will be briefly touching down on the dwarf planet, Nadroj, in any case. So this little detour changes nothing of my original plan. Now do you want to get down to business, Rezer, or do you want to continue to discuss my high maintenance habits, and while we’re at it,” Morgo’s expression was full of disdain, “Perhaps my daily beauty regime?”

Morgo did not wait for his response, turning her eyes back to the map. Either he would cooperate, or he wouldn’t. In any case, it was in his best interest if he honored their newly found truce.

Looking to Jericho, Morgo zoomed in on the former imperial penal colony, looking worse for wear but still strong.

“Infiltration would be our best bet. The penal colony is old, but it is still a nigh-impenetrable fortress. It would be easiest to get in if they let us in.”

Sev looked dubious, “We cannot use force, so it is simpler to just sneak in, use the shadows as our cover, and break the Jedi out. ”

“We have no knowledge of the lay of the land there, Rezer.” Morgo countered, “Even if we had a squad, our chances of getting lost, tripping the security, and our subsequent capture would be too high and it would take too much time and risk too much. I still support infiltration.”

The bounty hunter raised his thick brows, scoffing, “And how would you manage that, woman? Do you think Zrad will just open the gates and let us in like old friends? You know nothing of Zrad.”

Morgo’s eyes were clear as they alighted on Sev’s face, “Then tell me of him.”

A little thrown by the abrupt turn of discussion, Sev found himself under assault of two sets of eyes: one brown, one grey. Ignoring the twinge of discomfort at being the sudden focal point of everyone in the room, Sev quickly found his footing again.

“He is Zrad of Clan Rezer,” Sev began slowly, allowing himself to remember the man he had so seldom thought about throughout the years after the massacre of his clan, his family, “He is a traitor to the Manda’toma, our nation, a savage animal who knows no honor and defected from his duty to indulge his barbaric need for chaos and battle. Once he was my cousin and mentor, a great verd and a leader…”

Sev’s voice had taken on an edge of anger to it as he recalled all of Zrad’s crimes and betrayals to the Mandalorian way of life, “…But such aruetycate scum does not deserve to be remembered.” he spat.

And leaning forward to look Morgo in the eye across the holoprojector, Sev narrowed his eyes, “So tell me how you’ll get Zrad Rezer to open the door to us? Will you knock and politely asking for entry?” He asked, contempt color his voice dark, bleeding over from his recollections of all Zrad had abandoned and betrayed.

“Certainly not.” Morgo answered, “But you will.”

There was a pause of silence in the room as what Morgo had just said sank in.

Berry’s dark eyes widened as she turned to stare at Sev. “He will?"

Rezer stared at the noblewoman, confused and irritated that she refused to speak plainly, “What?”

Morgo shrugged, her expression cool as she shifted her weight from one leg to another, “You, Sev of Clan Rezer, will gift him with the Red Raptor, declare that you have seen the error of your way of life, and swear fealty to Zrad Rezer and the Exile Way. The Old Way.”

“What?!”

“Do calm yourself, Sev, and answer this question.” Morgo intoned, “Does anyone of your clan already swear allegiance to Zrad?”

Sev bristled but remained silent. No. No one of his clan lived save Zrad, though he had given up the right to bear that name the day he had turned his back to it.

“No.” Rezer spoke, sounding empty, not allowing his old pain to show, “No one.”

No one so much as lived to swear allegiance to life itself. And if Morgo noticed his sudden reticence she did not speak of it.

“Then imagine his pride when he learns that his cousin has returned to serve him.” Morgo continued, her calculating eyes boring into him as if he were a prize stallion to be auctioned off to the highest bidder, “Your talents and strength are not few, Sev, and you are renowned in this part of the galaxy for your skills. To add a Rezer to his numbers would be a great boon to him, I would think.”

Sev twitched as something clicked in his mind, realizing what it was that she was saying, “A deception.” He breathed.

“Indeed.” Morgo answered simply, evidently pleased, “You’ll get into his ranks and then let me in.”

Sev grit his teeth, already getting tired of trying to keep up with the woman’s line of thought. Just when he’d grasped the meaning of one thing she would say, she’d whip out something else, something seemingly impossible to pull off.

“How?” He finally settled on saying. It would be the quickest way to get her to spit out whatever she was thinking.

“By turning me in, of course.” Morgo stated, “Which will not be a deception, unfortunately.”

“I don’t understand.” Sev said, “What would that accomplish?”

“Hopefully he’ll incarcerate me, preferably nearby Thane and Bomoor.” And when one look at Berry’s and the bounty hunter’s face told Morgo that they weren’t following, Morgo swallowed an exasperated sigh.

“Thane and Bomoor are probably beaten, sick, and most likely dying at this point in their captivity. If I don’t get to them and keep them from succumbing to whatever injuries or infections they’re fighting, this rescue will be for nothing . And who in this room has more experience in breaking out of prisons than I do?” Morgo posed her question patiently, hoping that Sev and Berry would finally catch on.

“But you will have no weapons, no defenses if you do manage to heal them and get them out.” The bounty hunter pointed out, voice low, not liking how risky this plan was turning out.

“Yes, which is why I’m counting on you to kill the ysalamiri that are keeping the Force from Thane and Bomoor, while retrieving our weapons.”

Sev held up a hand, expression hard while he shook his head, “No, no this would never work, Le’Shaad.” He declared, finding too many holes in her plan, too many things that could go wrong, “Zrad would never even take you into custody in the first place! You are nothing to him.”

“I have a brand new, 1 million credit bounty on my head, Rezer. I think that’s incentive enough.”

“No.” Sev insisted, “That’s no guarantee. Money is not everything to Zrad. Sometimes he needs something a little extra to sweeten the deal. The value of your bounty may not be enough to interest him.”

Morgo bit her tongue as she considered this new information, her eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly, “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, Rezer? That I sleep with him?” She bit out, an edge to her voice.

“No.” Sev growled, annoyed that she would immediately jump to that conclusion. Zrad was not that kind of man. Not often.

“All I’m saying is that in order for him to keep you, there has to be more to your worth than money.” And grimacing, Sev thought about what appealed to Zrad, “He is a sick man, Zrad, and you will have to have entertainment value to him.”

“And what exactly entertains his royal highness?” Morgo asked, voice and dry as the desert.

Sev didn’t even have to think about that before he answered, “Pain. Blood. Gladiatorial games—between animals, between people. I’ve heard much of the games he puts on for his own amusement.”

Morgo rolled her grey eyes, “Then lie to him about who I may be to Thane or Bomoor. Tell him that I’m Bomoor’s mother, for all I care. I’ll bet he’d be pleased to pit Bomoor against his mother.” Morgo’s eyes cut back to Sev, speculating, “Or is that too dishonorable for you? One lie too many?”

Sev glared back at the woman, “I may have honor, unlike you, but it does not mean I will not lie to those I mean to kill.”

“Good.” Morgo sniffed, pleased that his code of honor would not get in the way of this rescue. It would be tedious indeed if she had to deal with another person with Berry’s no-lie, no-kill policy. Which of course, brought them to the issue of what role the little twerp girl would play in this mission.

Berry’s brow furrowed as she gazed at Morgo, expression a bit blank.

The woman considered the green girl from above, where she stood. As a Force-sensitive, Berry was prey to the same vulnerabilities that Thane and Bomoor had suffered under the Force-nulling effects of the ysalamiri. It would be foolish to take Berry with them if she was only going to lose the abilities that made her useful in the first place. Not to mention, the girl's propensity to rush headlong into whatever her fancies urged her to do. Berry was a liability, one that they could not afford to have this time around.

Looking to Sev, Morgo made a vague motion with her slender fingers in the direction of the part-Firrerreon, blinking slowly.

"We may not agree on much, Rezer," the woman stated, voice lowered so that her words were for his ears alone, "But I think we can both agree that Berry's role in this charade must be one of support, not of offense. For her sake...and for ours." Morgo added wryly.

Berry’s head tilted, the other woman’s words falling on deaf golden-green ears. It was cool, having Morgo plan everything. Back home, Berry always relied on her crew to figure things out. Well, besides the fact that Berry was going to kick someone’s butt. Sometimes, she didn’t know how to get somewhere, and where the target was…

This time would be no different…right?

She leaned forward and grinned at Morgo. “Sooo when do I get to fight Zrad?”

Sev seemed to contemplate the woman's words, his eyes darting to the side as he assessed the validity of Morgo's concerns.

"You won't be." He finally said, simply, his green-brown eyes trained intently on the young girl, assessing her reaction.

A golden-green lip jutted out in a frown. “Why not? He’s the one responsible for kidnapping Thane and Bomoor, right? And—”

"I said no, Berry." Sev repeated solemnly, "It's too dangerous for you to be on the forefront with me. You are to stay in the ship and ready it for launch on our return with Bomoor and Thane."

Berry’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

Sev's eyes mirrored Berry's, "You have no choice, girl. This is the only way you'll won't be underfoot or somehow used against us."

The part-Aquar crossed her arms and frowned at him. “I can’t even work a refresher. What makes you think I can ‘make the ship ready?’” She threw her hands in the air, red tunic fluttering. “Whatever that means.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sev was reminded of why he'd never decided to have children. Unsavory jedi-killing career aside, there was no real desire to have a family of his own...other than to continue the Rezer name.

"I can teach you the basics of pre-flight procedure. It is simple and important to the success of our rescue." Sev made a frustrated sound, "Why are you fighting this?"

At that, Berry glared. It was as if she had fur to bristle with, or a tail to flicker in warning at her rising intensity. “I’m fighting this because I’m supposed to fight.” She leaned forward, elbow on the table as she frowned at the Mandalorian. “I’m the one who figured out they’re in trouble, and I’m gonna help them get out of it. If you don’t like it, then I’ll go on my own.”

“Foolish girl!” Sev ground out, patience gone, “I will not—”

“Enough!”

Morgo’s voice cut through the room like a silver blade through silk. Grey eyes flashing, Morgo’s mouth was set in a firm line that spoke of her displeasure.

Eyes trained on Sev, Morgo spoke, “If you could just stop long enough to realize you are wasting valuable time getting invested in a heated argument with a child , I invite you to shoot something already and calm down. You are getting nowhere.”

And turning her slit eyes on Berry, Morgo closer to the girl, looming over her, “And you.”

Feeling a puff of air escape past her lips, in something too insignificant to be a laugh, Morgo continued, “Without the Force you are like Bomoor and Thane—unbearably weak. Going in there will not just be the death of your abilities. It will be the death of one of your greatest senses . I could blind you and you would be better off in Zrad’s labyrinth.” Morgo said mercilessly, her expression devoid of emotion. “You cannot come with us into Jericho because Sev and I do not have the time to carry you on our backs when you inevitably fold, fall, and fail because of your debilitating weakness.” She snapped.

“And I don’t have time to carry you!” Berry snapped back.

Earlier, Rezer’s eyes had burned like a forest fire…slowly but surely enveloping everything with his rage. But this time, Berry’s eyes burned with the intensity of a trembling underwater volcano—one about to blow its top off and send wave after wave to the shore, dashing everything on the rocks.

“Pride can get you pretty far, Le’Shade,” Berry began, voice as low as her brows. “But where’s your pride gonna be when faced with the chance of dying? When the chances of you succeeding get as low as an angler fish, and then you’re trying to figure out how to leave—how to give up?” She lifted her golden-green chin at the duchess in a challenge. “I may be weak, but I won’t stop or give up. And I won’t carry you out of the place when you decide Thane and Bomoor aren’t worth it anymore. Making potions is one thing, but fighting..." Her dark eyes narrowed. "You give it your all or you give up your life."

Laughter suddenly peeled thorough the air, bright as a golden bell. It would have otherwise been a lovely sound had Morgo not smiled, which was vaguely predatory in its edge.

"Do not think to lecture me on life and death, girl. Between the two of us, which one has actually died? Which one has been to war on a frozen frontier?" Morgo chuckled once again, as if her jaunt with death in the laboratory long ago was an amusing thing, "Willpower alone will not make you strong enough to do what is necessary. The heart may want, but it can only beat to the sobering rhythm of its body's limitations."

Morgo circled Berry like a sea serpent around a ship in the sea, hips swaying as she did so, "And if you think I'll abandon Thane and Bomoor to their fate simply because I lack your insipid devotion to them, you seriously underestimate my capacity for spite, and my aversion to owing favors. "

“But I want to help!” Berry burst out, jumping to her feet. If the gameboard hadn’t been bolted to the ground it would’ve flown across the room by now.

Her brows furrowed as she glared at Morgo, her flame flickering in desperation for more kindling. “I don’t care if my magic’s gone. I live to die, and I’d rather die going down than from…running away from the fight!”

“Then die .” Morgo said in a disinterested tone, “Die, and if Thane is lucky, he’ll die as well. Or if he is unlucky, he’ll be forced to live with a gaping, bleeding hole in the bond where you once were. Die and see how Bomoor will mourn, see Rezer’s guilt. ”

Morgo’s cold eyes fell half-mast as they pierced through Berry, like she was a thin sheet without substance, “You are welcome to fling yourself off any cliff anytime you feel like it, you and your warrior’s pride. But you will not do so while we still have something to lose from it.” She hissed in a low, vehement whisper.

This is not about you and what you want, was left unsaid.

The part-Aquar’s dark eyes widened. She wasn’t doing this for pride. This wasn’t for herself, was it?

She glanced over at the quiet Rezer and at the cold Le’Shaad. But it was as if she didn’t even have to be there. She wasn’t on Velusia, either. For that, she knew she’d return…when she was stronger. But right now, she couldn’t even get a chance to fight.

Because she wasn’t strong enough.

And now the running from a fight—running away. That’s what she was doing. But couldn’t she at least try to help?

Berry seemed struck by a wave, and she took a step back, brows furrowing mightily. Her chest started to rise and fall as her thoughts roiled, like the water growing choppier and choppier with unrest.

Running away so no one could get hurt. She felt pangs through her heart, and the old scars stabbed. The pain she felt…it was like the sea fighting against the pull of the moons. She couldn’t do this. Running away from defending the helpless…who would she be, to do something like that?

A whimper escaped her golden-green lips before she whirled around and dashed to her room.

Seconds passed in the silence Berry had left when she’d fled. From Morgo came an exasperated sound, her features schooled into one of dispassion as she regarded the door Berry had just escaped from, as if dealing with the girl was tedious.

“Did you have to be such a frigid bitch?” Came Sev’s voice, calm and considering, his eyes on the only remaining crew member.

Morgo turned her body to face Sev in earnest, her mouth still slightly downturned and her eyebrow arched, “Why Rezer, of all people who I’d thought would appreciate my frigid honesty, I’d imagined it would be you.”

“I agree with your message.” He clarified, raising a finger and moving it side to side, “But not with your methods.”

Morgo scoffed and flicked back a wayward strand of hair, “Well pardon me if I’m the only one on this ship that won’t coddle and shelter the girl.” She said curtly, dry as ice, “Thane hasn’t the patience to tell it to Berry true, and Bomoor doesn’t have the heart—while you have suddenly grown a set of feelings for the girl. Who remains but me to set her straight?”

“She’s just a child—ge’verd!” The bounty hunter shot back, his protective instincts kicking in.

“And that, ” Morgo responded without missing a beat, “is where you are all wrong. She is not a child. She has been through much, but she has not learned. And Berry must grow up. There is no room for children in open space.”

It was Sev’s turn to snort as he turned his face to look at the galactic map, “And what do you know of children and proper rearing when you have never cared for anyone but yourself? What do you know of wanting to protect and save someone so badly that you would gladly give your life to that end?”

Sev had been raised in a clan, where family was once everything before it was all taken away from him. He knew the pain of loss, the heart-rending desire to protect, and the sting of failure. What could a noble Duchess know of what was best for another, when her entire life had probably been spent attending to her own frivolous wants?

“I know enough,” Morgo bit out, “to know that if mere words are enough to send Berry off with quivering lips and tear-filled eyes, then she is nowhere near ready for Zrad and the brand of torture she may witness inside Jericho. She is so easily goaded by the pain and suffering of others that we would not be able to contain her. And if her recent outburst is anything to go by, I think she knows how out of control she truly is.” The woman added, knowing full well that she had evaded Sev’s true question.

Triage on the battlefield and her clinical work was the extent of Morgo’s knowledge when it came to the bests interests of others. She could work magic on the injuries and ills of the body and the mind—but when it came to tending the needs of the emotional beings of others, Morgo knew she was out of her depth. But that fact did not discount her points entirely.

Sev looked at her like he knew it.

“And Berry is not the only one who worries me.” Morgo added with a quiet intensity, looking directly at the bounty hunter. Sev met her vaguely accusing stare with a glare of his own, daring her to question him. How like a warrior—always so quick on the defense.

After a moment of tense silence between them, Morgo continued on, “I need to know that you will not be emotionally compromised when you face down Zrad and exact whatever revenge you have planned for him, and that you will not forget the main objective of this infiltration into Jericho.”

Sev and Morgo exchanged hard looks in the pregnant silence before Morgo spoke again, “That is the real reason you are willing to go into Jericho, is it not? To kill your dear cousin?” She asked knowing full well what his answer would be, her intelligent grey eyes alighting on the small sigils carved into the beskar iron of Sev’s armor, for a moment.

“If Thane and Bomoor happen to be freed in the process of this incursion, then good for them. But that’s secondary to Zrad’s death to you, is it not?”

Had he been a lesser man, Sev would have looked away under the woman’s critical gaze, but he was not—and met grey eyes head on.

“I don’t answer to you.” He stated, voice low and dangerous.

“No you don’t.” Morgo agreed smoothly, “But you answer to the success of this mission. If and when Zrad agrees to take me into custody, you may be the only thing separating me from certain death at his hands. For all intents and purposes, whether I will live or die, rests on your ability to stay his attention long enough for me to do my job—and for you to do yours.”

Sev looked away to the pazaak table, his gloved hands curling into fists at his sides—knuckles white as he imagined what he would do when he could finally reveal to Zrad that he was betraying him, just as Zrad had betrayed them all when he’d abandoned them to join the unruly Exiles at the height of war. A muscle in Sev’s jaw jumped as he bit down at the thought of finally taking the life of his wretched cousin.

“You let me worry about that, Le'Shaad.” Was all Sev deemed to say, the rumble of his voice low and dark.

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