The Godless Matron is home to many, resembling a micro-society for those who wish to live outside the typical 'rule' of the galaxy. The Lucrehulk-class battleship's massive hangars have been converted into dwellings as a result. Chute Town is the most notable of these makeshift towns. Many shops and storefronts have been constructed to take advantage of the higher volume of foot traffic. In addition, many ships and crews arrive into Chute Town to sell their "well-earned" commodities, weapons, or artifacts. It is commonplace to find the best and the worst gear the galaxy has to offer, it is only a matter of how big your pocket book is. The 'streets' are patrolled regularly by the crew of the Matron itself, leaving would-be miscreants to be more wary, lest they find themselves on the receiving end of a pirate's sense of justice.

It is built mostly out of spare durasteel panels from derelict ships, dismantled machinery, or any other source or material the pirates could scavenge. It spans the length of the massive portside hangar of the Matron, reaching from it's heavily protected reactor — hidden behind triple-reinforced blast doors and a guard retinue — all the way to the hangar entrance where the many incoming ships unload their cargo. It is more than a mile long, over five hundred feet wide and up to three stories tall, covering most of the floor. Chute Town's streets are a miniature maze, weaving in between buildings on several levels. Verticality is key for the masses of shops and bars to operate without interfering with one another. The main street is nicknamed Murder alley, mostly because all the weapon shops are prominently opened there.

Illumination banks are staggered along the walkways and buildings to provide enough light for the society to function. Still, the 'streets' are left dim with a low hanging fog built up from the collective humidity of so many people in one space. For those calling it their home, there is no such thing as 'off hours'. A large crowd bustles along at all hours, an exotic assortment of individuals from countless planets and the warring gangs that divvy up the territory within. It's the perfect place for those looking to disappear in the crowd.

With tensions running high, Chute Town was far more volatile than it would have been otherwise. Several of the gangs had been stepping outside their territory of late. As yet there had been no outright acts of aggression, though the perceived slights had been steadily mounting for weeks. The cracks in the dam were beginning to show. The crew of the Godless Matron just needed to apply pressure to the right place at the right time to trigger an outright gang war.

To that end, a bounty was put in place. The premise was simple enough. The Herald would grant a measure of clemency to whomsoever cashed in the ID tokens that had been planted on several individuals at random. Such a prize was without measure for not just the gangs of Chute Town, but the denizens themselves.

Chute Town was a dump, but it was the kind that Kordath Bleu found himself at home in. Sure it was dirty and the residents were a touch off in the head, but the place had charm. Not bristling with security or spotless streets, the makeshift community had a living feel to it. The Ryn felt at ease despite the thin hull separating them from the vacuum. If a breach occurred, he was relatively certain one of the shacks would just get sucked up and seal the hole, giving the resident a new outlook over his neighbors.

Not that he was sightseeing. The Arconan’s purpose on the Matron was twofold, though one was likely to help the other along. Word about the token game had been a nice surprise when he’d arrived. He figured if he could get a few together, it might make it easier to get an audience with the Herald before she came looking for him herself. And while it was unorthodox, the entire thing fell under what he considered ‘honest work’, which was even more important at the moment.

Can’t be buyin’ somethin’ that important with dirty credits, even if she don’t know I did.

Absently, he flipped one of said tokens in the air as he walked, eyes roving for any signs of another. The first had been easy enough for the light-fingered Ryn to nab and he hoped to get his hands on more. He nearly dropped the blasted thing when he saw a figure in white and blue skipping down the nearby lane with a few rough looking fellows following her.

Oh bleedin’ ‘ell that’s Blinky, he thought as he recognized his friend and Consul. Should I give her a hand with that lot?

He paused, considering.

Not like she’d need help but considerin’ tha other reason we’re here...few points couldn’t hurt.

The abrupt sounds of blaster fire erupted from the alley he’d seen the Miraluka wander down. By the time he rounded the corner she was standing over the three thugs with one hand on her hip, the other holding a smoking pistol that was pointed in the air. The blasted smile was still there as well, the one that made it so Kord was never sure if she was flirting or threatening his life. Sometimes both, if she really wanted to mess with him. When the blaster was leveled at him, he shot both hands in the air and laughed nervously, hoping her Force senses told her who it was.

“Bleu!” she shouted with joy — bringing both relief and worry to the man. “Found you!”

Oh kark.

“These guys were after my little tokens, made a bet with Morgan that I could bring back some! She thought I couldn’t handle her little Chute Town.” The Shadow Lady was grinning and had still not put the blaster away much to his concern. “Funny finding you here,” her tone growing more neutral despite the smile.

“Aye, well, when our lad Rrogon got home and told me about meeting tha Captain of this ship, felt it’d be a good idea ta come and clear tha air. Before she decided ta clear me.”

The woman stepped over a groaning body, trust her to use a stun setting he thought as Atty idly spun the pistol in her hand.

“Clear the air on...what, Fluffnuts?”

He considered his words carefully, knowing everything he could say was gonna get him a smack.

“He told her I offed Satsi, Atts. Morgan was fond of tha lass, as I recall, I...nae, tha Clan do nae be needin’ that kind o’ trouble.”

Atyiru paced around him slowly, “You’re going to tell her Satsi is actually alive?”

“Not in so many words—” he let out a yelp as she smacked him across the face with the grip of her pistol. The warnings had been there but dodging would have just karked her off more.

“You know why you can’t do that!” she hissed at him, voice dropping. “And you have so much more to lose now if you do.”

Bleu straightened up at the statement. “Ya mean Shay?”

“Sure. And you could get Zujibean hurt, and I won’t have that.”

“I do nae...know...oh,” he started to try and lie, or talk his way out. The look on her face suggested she wasn’t buying it.

"How many times are we going to play this game, Bleu, hmm?"

That was rhetorical, right? She wasn't expecting him to answer? Or maybe she was. She was right finicky when she was mad. Then again, if he did say something, and she hadn't intended him to, she was like to hit him again. Hell, she was like to hit him again many times regardless if this was going where he thought it was and oh, kark, she was still talking—

"...as Karufr, and Kashyyyk, and Corellia, and that bit with the vents and, hrm, your skittering friends, think you would know by now that you can't hide things from me. I see everything." Her finger shot up in front oh his fluted nose. "And not one crack."

"I dinnae know what yer talkin' about this time, lass," the Ryn said stiffly, not about to incriminate himself if he couldn't charm his way out of his predicament. His black eyes flickered to her pistol, hands, feet, and the mouthway of the alley, then back. His cheek ached for her earlier whack, and he wasn't bloody well keen on getting jumped while she went on with what was surely one of her inevitable, guilt-intended tirades.

"Don't you?" hissed the Miraluka, circling around him, her boots clicking on the durasteel scrap below them. Her tone had quickly gone from neutral to deadly. "All the danger you put Satsi and Uji and their family in, running your mouth and losing your temper like you did at Uji and I for 'lying' to you, all that bluster and bruising and nerfheaded disregard, all that spiel about betrayal, and you have the nerve to lie to my face every single day? And not even for the sake of safety, but just because, what? You think I'll disapprove? You think I'd be angry two people I care dearly for found something so beautiful in each other? That I would lash out at you when what you have is so blessed under Ashla and Bogan's grace that I would weep had I the eyes to? You. Karking. HYPOCRITE!"

She smacked his arm harder and harder with each word, open-palmed and nearly shoving him over as soundly as the muscled redhead she'd mentioned would.

"OW! Quit it, Blinky!" Kordath snapped, sliding away from her on quick feet. His chest felt heavy and his ears burned hot, and he couldn't discern right then if it was shame, annoyance, or an incoming bout of nausea as the hull rumbled. "It is nae any less true, times like these, that it was safer to keep us quiet, see?"

Her eyebrows scrunched as if to glare. Damn.

"So it's fine for you to lie to protect something, but not for him?" The Ryn's mind flashed to his maybe-former friend, sitting in a dungeon under the Citadel. Her furious whisper went on, "It's fine for you to treat me like some idiot or monster and all the while you decide to put not one, but two families with CHILDREN in danger, just to save your own skin? Did it occur to you for even a second, even one bloody second, who might overhear you on a ship full of pirates bigger than my damned castle? Who might target your goddaughter, and your new baby, and your partner just to hurt this Clan? Just to hurt you? You have more than just Journeymen looking to you now, Bleu, more than just brethren. You have my apprentice! You have innocent younglings barely opened their eyes!" Atyiru's voice rose. "If you haven't learned by now, then you are going to learn today, and I am going to teach you."

The Force whispered, like an old mate, and his eyes went to her thumb, barely catching the movement. She'd changed the setting on her blaster pistol.

The Ryn did exactly as he always did when his instincts told him the smart course to take: he threw up his hands, concentrating briefly enough to will a miniature starburst of light into existence, then spun and ran.

Get tha kark away from her, she’ll calm down, she always does, he rationalized, darting down the alleyway as the flash faded behind him. A vague sense of unease and danger followed him as moments later blaster fire peppered the deck nearby. Okay, that’s new, when’d she learn ta get over it that bleedin’ fast?

The Ryn figured if he put some distance between them, get into a more populated area to muddle her Force sight, he might have a chance to slip out. Find someplace to hole up until things blew over. That and take some time to think over the chastisements she’d laid upon him with such vigor. It was a harsh reminder of how many connections he could put in danger. He had mostly just been worried his lover and the child that had shown up on his doorstep.

She can’t be this karked off just because I didn’t tell her about Zuj and me; Blinky is off kilter tha best o’ days but this…

As he reached a three-way junction in the maze of shacks he skidded right, only to find the bulkhead that marked the end of Chute Town.

“Oh, bugger,” he muttered and ducked, scarlet bolts streaking over his head to scar the wall. “Would ya cut that out!?”

“Have you learned anything yet?” came the deceptively cheery voice. His Consul was enjoying herself at least a touch, he thought. Wasn’t like this was the first time the blind woman had tried to shoot him, it was an old game of their’s that he usually defused with a bit of fast talking and some jokes.

Somehow he didn’t think that was gonna fly today. “Lesson, eh? Ya callin’ me out fer lyin’ tha same as Uji? Really? That ain’t even fair.”

He glared at her, past the muzzle of the blaster leveled at him.

“Zuj didnae want anyone ta know about us; I’ve done me best to convince her otherwise but she figured it was safer this way. That ain’t me shiftin’ blame, neither, that’s me not goin’ against what she wants. As for tha rest? Uji did nae just lie ta me, and ta you, and you know it,” he growled, throat tightening as he talked.

“She was afraid? Of what? I would protect her any way I could,” replied the Shadow Lady, her weapon unwavering. At least she hadn’t shot him yet. Yet.

Kordath lifted his hands up in exasperation, “Ya think she wants ta be coddled? Not tha point I’m tryin’ ta make anyways, yer dancin’ about tha issue same as we’ve all been doin’ for near on a bleedin’ year. He didnae just lie ta protect Satsi, he didnae just keep us in tha dark. Ya know what he did, ta me, Atts, ya know what he did when I came out from that bloody nightmare where I didnae know what was real or what I was doin’.”

Atyiru’s silence prompted him to continue, as did the way her gun was slowly lowering. Fighting past the lump in his throat and the watering in his eyes, he kept on.

“Ya told me she was dead. He told me it was my fault. Tha man is like a brother ta me and he used me ta cover up sendin’ her away. Instead of bloody trustin’ me ta keep a secret, an important one. Tha kind worth keepin’, luv, and he couldnae be straight with me. Nine bleedin’ months I thought I got one of me best mates killed or ended her meself because neither of ya would tell me what happened! Now that has gotten ta one of Satsi’s friends, one with position and power, and ya think I’m tryin’ ta save me own skin!?”

“You know what’ll happen if this gets out, Bleu,” she started, before he scoffed loudly enough to cut her off.

“What happens is she sends people ta collect me, pirates, bounty hunters, mercs, whatever. People with no sense of collateral bleedin’ damage that put everybody at risk. Ya do nae need ta tell me who might get hurt, either way,” he growled. “I know, I bloody well know.”

“I will nae risk Zujenia’s life, Atts, she’s tha one thing that’s made sense this year, I will nae let anyone hurt her.”

He stood, resolute for once, despite the weapon pointed at him.

"You really do love her, don't you, Bleu?"

"I…damn't, Atts, 'course I bloody do."

"Then I would think you would understand what Uji did!" she snapped. "Considering you're willing to do anything, even damn your friends, to protect someone you care so much about."

"It nae is the same!" growled the Ryn, his stance firm and tail flicking with agitation. His hands fisted at his sides. "What I felt— no, luv. I ain't gonna ever let Zuj feel so helpless like that, not while I'm breathin'. I nae will abandon her, or Shay! I'm not some bleeding nerfhead off to spill all yer secrets, neither. Jus' gonna tell the lass she does nae have ta be gunning fer me or anybody else near me over some vendetta that isn't real."

"Morgan is watched by an Inquisitor constantly! Don't tell me you didn't know that. Don't tell me you didn't at least think that far ahead with something so crucial!"

"If she can come to the bloody shadowport to have tea with tha Quaestor, she can shake her Inqy shadow."

"You assume far too much for something so damned delicate."

"Like hell I do. I jus dinnae underestimate folks, unlike you lot."

"I didn't know about Satsi either, you bumbleheaded nitwit!" The pistol's muzzle moved away from him as she flung her arm out with the exclamation, giving him the space to dive around her and scurry back out into the crossway and down the opposite alley-thin excuse for a street. The Consul made a sound of fury that faded as he put distance between them, shouting after him, "And it's not as if HE DIDN'T HAVE GOOD REASON! YOU WERE COMPROMISED!"

"I WAS KARKIN' VICTIMIZED!" the Ryn yelled back despite himself, spotting a ramshackle doorway covered by little more than a piece of sheet metal leaning against its sides ahead, behind a cascade of rubbish and debris. He shoved his shoulder into the opening between some droid scrap and the wall, squirming through. "TRYING TO SAVE FOLK, FOR ONCE, LIKE A BLOODY MORON!"

The best of intentions do not forgive our mistakes and do not nullify our weaknesses. We must own them and accept their consequences. I know that better than anyone, Kordath, and you need to remember it now, for Zujenia's sake and all of ours, her voice came directly into his mind, and he shuddered, lashing out mentally in defense. Once, he wouldn't have minded the Miraluka's summery, song-like thoughts intruding on his own.

Not anymore. Not after everything his brain had been through, everything he'd been through.

With a grunt of effort and some assistance from the Force, the small man slipped through the blockade of discarded junk and made for the doorway. His senses didn't reveal anything alive inside, threatening or otherwise. Kordath carefully shifted the covering away and stepped inside, his eyes widening to see through the darkness. He vaguely made out the seams of a couple mattresses and another doorway across the tiny space. It stank of unwashed bodies. An empty squatter's den.

The Ryn glanced quickly behind him then made for that other exit. He could still detect the Consul's familiar presence nearby, but not exactly where, and she had gone silent, psychically or otherwise. That was even more unnerving than her actively chasing him.

He had to give the door a good, hard shove to get through it, the metal having rusted in its frame. The Rollmaster found himself spat out into another alley that was really little more than a crawlspace boxed in on the left and right, with another shack-like structure directly across from him.

Something clattered behind him.

Cursing, Kordath darted forward and burst through the doorway of the second building, fumbling...right...into...

Oh, kark me, the Ryn thought, meeting the twelve-odd gazes of various scarred pirate and merchant types hunched over a sabacc game with drinks and cigarras, and their muscled, carbine-toting guards standing behind them. They looked rather unhappy at his intrusion.

"Uh, 'ello, gents," he began with a flourish of a grin, backing up a step. "My bad, right, just be on me way…"

The mercs lifted their blasters and opened fire. The Ryn yelped and dove to the side, skidding on his elbows behind a small, makeshift metal bar.

From outside, a red plasma bolt streaked at an angle through the spot where he'd just been standing, burning solidly into the leg of one of the rough-looking thugs barreling towards him.

Saved by a bar, this feels familiar, he pondered as blaster fire tore through the place. Cries of pain, surprise, and anger filled the air, along with the smells of burnt ozone and flesh. It grew louder as the guards fired back blindly, which, to the Ryn, seemed oddly unfair considering the Miraluka’s natural advantage.

Bleu hadn’t seen another exit to the room, which meant he was cornered by a ticked off woman with a rifle that could blast through walls with ease.

Time ta change approaches.

Slowly the noise died down, ending with the scuffling sounds of boots and dragged bodies as the sabacc party broke up. Gingerly he rose and surveyed the damage, whistling through his fluted nose at the damage done. Still…

When the white-haired Consul burst through the door, blaster at the ready, she found him behind the bar still. Pouring alcohol into a pair of questionable looking glasses. She fired off a pair of quick shots which dissipated against a wall of Force energy that he’d had prepared for a while. The barrier collapsed, but no further blasts followed.

“You stopped running to get a drink?” Her tone was almost warm; unsurprising, this fit more in the slacker nature she was familiar with when it came to the Ryn.

“Stopped ta think, figured a few libations would nae hurt tha process.”

Bleu pushed one across the uneven bar top at her before he leaned back, a glass in his own hand. The amber liquid swirled as he idly moved the cup around, staring at his friend and boss.

Finally, he cleared his throat and looked down with a sigh. “Say...what would ya have done if Rrogon had come ta you? If you’d found out before I did, what he told Sorenn?”

“I’d have dealt with it better than this,” stated Atyiru as she laid her weapon on the counter and took up her own drink, hand never straying far. “A quiet missive here, a coded message maybe. We should have thought about this the moment Uji came clean.”

“We was a bit karked off at tha time, luv, no blame on either o’ us for lettin’ this one slip.” He drained his glass and set it down, watching as she sipped at her own. As he poured another, he continued. “Ya know, me first plan was ta slip up ta her quarters and hope she did nae shoot me when she found me. Bloody token game distracted me.”

Atyiru’s tan brow wrinkled in thought, “That has been bothering me, Bleuboy. Why do you even need the money? More your style to liberate something from those who can afford it if you need some quick credits.”

“Aye, me quick hands are a gift, but I was in need of some more, eh, honest creds.” He lifted his glass once more but paused. “Tis important, may never come up but I’d know, yeah?”

“What are you talking about? Wait! Are you—” The Miraluka began to light up, emotionally. Any Inquisitors on board probably knew where the two of them were at that moment, the beacon of joy suddenly standing across from him.

Kordath reached over and laid a pair of fingers on her hand, near the partial tattoo that adorned it. “I, uh, was gonna get around ta askin’ fer a blessin’ and tha like. Seein’ as we gots ta track down her mum and dad, but you trained her, Blinky. So yeah, yer tha closest she’s got ta family right now.”

He knocked back his drink, slamming the glass down once more. “Closest we both got.”

“Do I get to plan it!?” she nearly shrieked, her excitement having broken what little self-restraint she’d been showing.

“Like I could stop ya,” he answered with a wry grin. The Ryn wished he could shut off his ears as the woman’s shriek of joy lifted in decibels, giving him cause to worry over the bottle on the counter.

“Alright! Calm down...we gotta move, luv. We’ve made an awful lotta noise, yeah?”

The Rollmaster was surprised when she dropped a pouch on the counter, a few ID tokens falling out. “Call it my gift! And I get to plan it!”

“Yeah, luv, yeah ya do,” he shook his head and sighed. A warmth was inside him, though, as that was one of the women asked.

Now he just had to ask Zuj. He took another drink.

"Now, gentlemen!" a voice bellowed distantly. "Anyone who has no wish to join your friend on the floor there should politely lower their guns and file out in an orderly fashion! And I mean orderly! Single file, no talking, no cutting in line!"

Are you bloody serious? the Ryn thought, crouching with his arms wrapped over his neck and observing the Gamorrean fellow who'd been shot whine as he rolled about, nursing his knee. He debated throwing one of his flashbangs, but decided against it. The lot of them seemed to be hesitating.

Hey, now would be a good time, came the Miraluka's voice sharply in his head. Kordath's eyes flickered around. She must have sensed his confusion, because she mentally snapped a moment later, A distraction, Bleu? Get yourself out of there! I don't actually have a good shot, here!

Growling, the Rollmaster reached for his back, drawing out his Inquisitor dagger and twirling it as he stood, pasting an evil smile on his face, the kind he'd borrowed from too many gloating Sithy types to count. The Ryn kept his posture as relaxed and confident as he could as he stepped out from behind the bar, flourishing his blade so that the pirates could surely see it.

"Now, gents, that was a bad idea, it was, not smart of you," Kordath drawled, wagging his knife at them like his mum would her finger and pulling strings of the Force with the gesture. "I tried to make this assessment easy for you, I did, but you lot had to go failing in...what was that, less than ten seconds? Couldn't get me, and my sniper has you pinned. What good would you all be against the rebel scum? Pathetic," he scoffed. "Get out of here before I tell the Captain to have your heads decorating my mantle."

For good measure, he concentrated just enough to make what appeared to be lightning crackle along his hands. The richest-looking bloke at the table visibly wavered under Kordath's words and the pressure on his mind, and climbed from his chair, prompting his buddies to follow suit. Slowly, then all at once in a rush, the rabble shuffled and wedged themselves out the door. The Gamorrean limped after them. A moment later, he heard scraping and clanging behind him, and then Atyiru's footsteps padding in. He turned around and crossed his arms over his chest, still thumbing the blade.

She held her rifle in both hands, her pistol back at her hips. If she wanted to, she could shoot him with that this close, and he'd be all the worse off.

He decided to preempt that. "Look, Atts, either shoot me or don't. I nae am gonna put me lasses in danger, and I nae am gonna let danger come to 'em either."

"Why, of course, Kordath, you're welcome, I'm happy to save your hide anytime," she sing-songed by way of response, her tone high and chipper. "After all, it's mine to flay from your arms and legs and feed to you."

"Got places ta be, I do."

"You're not going to Morgan, and that is the end of it."

"I have ta git her folks off me back—"

"I've already taken care of it for you!"

The Ryn blinked. "Um, what?"

"What do you think I was here for, a stroll through Chute Town? You think I didn't know about what Skarbie told her, or about what you found out? I requested an audience with Morgan. I told her that you'd been used, weren't directly involved — but no more. I'm not about to let anyone get hurt. Not Uji and Satsi, not Shaylra, not Zujubean, and not you."

"...oh."

"You know we're still friends, don't you?"

"Hasn't felt like it in a long time, luv."

"And I am sorry for that. But I'm not sorry that people we love were safer for our pain."

Kordath scrubbed a hand through his hair then tugged at his beard, sighing. "It's not that easy fer me, Atts."

"I never said it had to be." She holstered her rifle, turning away. "Oh, and Kord?"

He lifted a fluffy brow, eyes darting between her and the massive pile of creds on the table distractedly. It wasn't really stealing, just finding. Zuji couldn't mind that, right? "Yeah, Blinky?"

"The answer is yes. Blessings to you."

The Ryn inhaled sharply, going stiff, but the Miraluka merely smiled at him and went walking out the door after the pirates.