The Krath could still feel the blood on her hands as she rose from the bed. It was a strange place to be, and she was not even sure that she wanted to stay. Saskia had been offered the place she had created via the execution of Xathia, though she had little intention of staying for long. She needed some new contacts, and this was a good enough place to start as any.
The new clothing she had acquired was fitted to Xathia’s size, much more generous in the chest and hip area, and not quite long enough in the leg. She tried to pull things into place, but the first place she would definitely need to go was to the quartermaster to get something that adequately fitted whilst her only other set of clothes were being washed.
Walking in the corridor, Saskia felt uneasy, as though everyone was watching her with accusing stares. Ruusan was bobbing along beside her, making sure to keep away from the tangles in her hair as they tried to absorb the environment around them. A complex web of corridors lay before them, and it was easy enough to get lost amongst all the new faces.
‘It’s just a temporary stop, like everywhere else. Refuel, get some new clothes, new contacts and then move on once you’re ready. Just like every other time,’ she thought, taking some new clothing off the quartermaster and disappearing back up to her room.
She recalled the previous evening, a brief conversation with the Quaestor, a Zabrak called Cethgus. He had given her access to Xathia’s quarters after they had both frisked the dead body for her keys, and she had taken the Sapphire Blade and custom built lightsaber for her own use.
“Take her place. Assume her rank. No one will ask any questions,” he stated, standing up.
No explanation as to how things worked, what was expected of her or anything. She had sworn no loyalty to anyone. She was able to leave of her own free will, and she would as soon as she could. She was armed, and surrounded by people who apparently held no loyalty to anyone. That was her impression.
Opening up her files on the newly acquired datapads, she remembered that her biological father was also in this clan. Though with her knowledge it was also highly unlikely that he even knew she existed. Pulling the known files she had of Andrelious would give way to nothing new. She knew very little of his physical appearance, and only understood that he had once been a military man. He had nothing to do with bringing her up, there was no sentiment involved. Sentiment was what got people killed anyway.
She flicked through all the files on her datapad, including the information on what Arcona did as a Clan. She was quickly losing interest in the finer details of politics and instead decided that the antiquated computer would need work on to uphold her usual standards. The Krath had also picked up a vast range of new tools from the quartermaster, who had grumbled about complying with her demands. She would be able to upkeep her needed skills at least whilst here.
Saskia had already decided that socialising would not be in her foremost interest. This was the black hole of hiding places. Xathia had used it as such for numerous years, though she had also needed to escape an ex-husband at one point. Socialising would make things complicated as she slid under the desk, unhooking all the wires before getting to the components. Her thoughts drifted briefly to Celevon, an… interesting individual, who would come looking for her in time. The absence of his wife would indeed cause problems. Again, sentiment, a weakness that would ultimately lead to death.
Ruusan buzzed about, handing the tools to Saskia as she began to wonder who would notice Xathia’s absence, and that she had glided in. Her nimble fingers slipped out the old memory, surprised to see that it was still being used despite its age and obscurity. Nerves would do her no good. The Quaestor had said she would not be questioned, but who could trust someone who had just assisted you in a murder.
There would be questions once it came out. Why had she murdered someone who had only helped her get out of a dangerous lifestyle. The answer was simple. Xathia had been planning to go to Cirrus. That’s what she had been making plans to do. Acquiring the business that Saskia owned, something that the woman wanted nothing of the sort. Xathia had pushed it, and had even booked a meeting with Lord Talbot, one of Saskia’s guardians of the business. She had heard only what she had wanted from the younger woman’s mouth.
Saskia had no intention of letting anyone take hold of the business. She may have no interest in running it, but to sell it on was far from what she would even consider to her dying day. Xathia was going to buy it regardless of what Saskia wanted. She would not give anything up for anyone else. No one else could be trusted, and no one else would tell her what to do. It seemed like a ridiculous reason to kill someone, but it was out of necessity. Saskia would have no one telling her what to do. Her father had tried that before, by selling her to another family as a way of funding his own drug habit.
“Well, Ruusan, once I get this sorted, I think we might be able to make some money and new contacts. It’s a black hole at least. No one knows we’re here. Might be able to get ourselves sorted for a bit,” Saskia said, pulling herself out from under the desk. “Might even finally start understanding people, but that’s really doubtful.”
Ruusan beeped back tunefully, whilst bobbing up and down in the air.
“Sentiment would be the death of me if I started liking people. I can’t see that changing after over twenty years.”