With a deal made with the Kavian Hunter, Ayna’s restrictions were gradually lifted.

The cowl was gone. Or, rather, on standby, tucked into the back of the collar, waiting for a command. She’d been released from the restraint chair, and though the cuffs were still around her wrists they were no longer connected to one another.

Of course, the collar was still locked, a constant thick, heavy presence around her neck. And the Hunter had made it very clear that it would shock her over anything it interpreted as violence. Or if she entered the cockpit. Or messed with any controls on the ship. Or stepped outside of it, not that it was an option in flight. Or did any number of things, some of which the Hunter refused to reveal. And depending on the offence, the cowl would automatically reactivate.

At least the inside of the collar was padded.

All of her belongings were still locked away somewhere, including her backup pair of sunglasses, but the lighting was low enough to not hurt her eyes. It was nice to imagine it was an act of consideration from the Hunter.

There wasn’t much in the way of entertainment on the ship, not unless Ayna wanted to brave the shocks by testing unmarked buttons. It was a small thing, smaller than the Addax, very much intended for hunting people and nothing else. The most notable furniture were the double rows of restraint chairs, folded when not in use.

Hopefully, seven of them would be occupied soon, buying her way out of this.

There was a small table, and on it were pick-sticks. She gathered them up in her fist and let them fall into a jumble on the table, then delicately sought to pick them up one by one without stirring the rest. It wasn’t exactly thrilling entertainment, not with a genetic advantage in precision that made it so very easy. But it beat staring at the ceiling, or folding and unfolding a restraint chair over and over again.

Ayna yelped as she got a shock, and the sticks flew about. She’d let her hand idly drift to the collar again. Touching it was yet another restriction.

The ship dropped out of leap and Ayna breathed a sigh of relief. The company of a jailer was preferable to none at all. At least when the alternative form of distraction was picking up sticks. She took a moment to compose herself after the latest jolt and then hurriedly gathered them up, acting like a good house guest.

The Hunter strode out of the cockpit, still armoured top-to-toe.

“Sooo, how are we doing?” Ayna asked, and tapped her fistful of sticks against the table.

“We are about a third of the way there,” Kavia Sari said as she passed.

She walked over to the engine and lifted the cover. It was a good deal smaller than that of the Addax, as was to be expected from a smaller, younger and more expensive ship.

“I’m no spacer, but it’s not supposed to be wise to travel without a qualified engineer,” Ayna observed.

“I am qualified for basic maintenance and observation,” the Hunter told her as she went over the systems. “And I pay for regular overhauls.”

“I suppose a hired helper would interfere with that whole ‘lone, wandering badass’ image you guys have going,” Ayna said.

“I suppose it would,” Sari said, in the same calm fashion she said everything else.

“I guess you’re never short on company, though temporary company only,” Ayna went on with a flair. “I suppose there is a poem to be found in that description. A really dramatic, melancholy one.”

“When on the job, yes.”

Ayna amused herself for a little bit by picturing the Hunter’s day-to-day home life as exactly like all of this, complete with cowling a hypothetical spouse during arguments.

“I am giving the engine a five-hour rest,” the Hunter said as she closed the cover.

“Cool. Join me for a game?”

Ayna wiggled the sticks.

“It’s no fun if I’m not beating someone.”

“Maintenance first.”

Kavia Sari walked over to a locker and took out two long, thin plastic packages. Ayna got a horrible suspicion, which was confirmed when the woman threw one of them to her. It was the worst kind of survival ration; absolutely loaded with nutrients and nothing else.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“I guess you can’t eat through that helmet,” Ayna said as she reluctantly twisted off the top of the packaging. “Is it some rare privilege to see your face? Or are you going to make me turn around? Mystique is very-”

The Hunter took her helmet off as she walked over, then put it on the table.

“Please do not assign such weaknesses to me,” Kavia Sari said. “I make it my business to eliminate those from my being.”

Ayna took in the woman’s face for a few moments, then laughed a little.

“You know, you’re dull, but in kind of an interesting way. If that makes sense.”

“Stakes make anything interesting.”

“Well, you’re right.”

Inside the packaging was a long, thin bar surrounded by liquid. Ayna sighed internally and started with a sip of the liquid. It was awful. Just the kind of stuff exercise fanatics scarfed down. Then she bit down, for a different kind of awful.

“No wonder you throw yourself into battle...” she muttered.

“I throw myself into battle with my mind and body primed and ready.”

“You should star in commercials.”

“Maybe I should.”

Ayna finished the terribly healthy meal as fast as she could, then smoothed out the packaging and folded it up neatly while the Hunter finished.

“Game?” she asked again.

“Sure.”

Ayna held the sticks up on the middle of the table, then let them drop every which way. The Hunter took off her glove but left the vambrace in place, with all its little trick weapons. Then she made the first move, taking a red stick. It was worth three points, but forbade further picks.

“So are you going to brief me?” Ayna said as she made her own move and took a plain white stick. “On that den of villainy you want me to brave for you?”

“You are agreeing to brave it,” the Hunter reminded her. “It is highly unethical to force a mark into danger.”

“What a formal way of putting it,” Ayna said and took another white stick without moving any of the surrounding ones.

“I am on the job,” Kavia Sari said.

“Yes...”

Ayna tilted her head and gave the woman a sardonic look.

“... playing pick-stick.”

She took her third and final stick of the round.

The Hunter looked away from the table and up at Ayna. She had yet to see the woman actually smile, but thought she detected some amusement in her eyes.

“Are you trying to make friends, Ayna of Dwyyk?”

Ayna gave her an innocent look.

“Just trying to keep up a good mood. I always do. Not that it’s ever wrong to try to make friends.”

“It is wrong to steal, though,” the Hunter told her. “Hence your predicament.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

“But I will answer your question properly,” the woman said as she took a stick. “Golga 3 is a thoroughfare, as I said. It has multiple docking sites and a charging reactor, but nowadays it is largely used for smuggling, selling salvage and loot, and as a recruitment centre for less organised gangs. There is little permanent residence; a couple of gang outfits, and some war refugees that simply wound up staying. Given how relatively common your people are on the lanes, I see no reason why a Dwyyk would draw particular attention there.”

“And how is the lighting?” Ayna asked.

The Hunter tried to take another red stick, but caused the one beneath it to move.

“Last I knew it was generally poor.”

“Ah, goody.”

“Maintenance of that place is far below standard.”

“And is there any law, in any sense of the word?”

Ayna took a green stick.

“Just the law of the gun and the fist.”

“A jungle, then,” Ayna said cheerfully. “I’ve manoeuvred those before. But how thick is it?”

“It varies, obviously. But I think the average population is somewhere between 3000 and 4000.”

Ayna filed the woman’s words away. She much preferred bigger crowds, at least off-world, where there was no option to just run out into the streets and make oneself scarce. But she could still make this work. It would just take good judgement.

“An outfit has a base of operations there,” the Hunter went on. “Zan-Kiko. They have close relations with Blue Strike; they call on them when they need heavy-hitting enforcers. They will be your chance to find something out.”

“You’re certainly informed.”

“I meet a lot of people with lesser bounties that I am willing to dismiss. Or who would like a chance of a reduced sentence.”

They played on in relative silence. The Hunter had precision Ayna guessed stemmed from long hours spent with no company, or at best blinded, deafened and muted company. But her own natural precision allowed for a narrow victory. And then again in a second game. She suspected the Hunter enjoyed having a challenge on her hands. But the woman still gathered the sticks up.

“I will get some sleep now, while the engine cools,” she said and rose. “And that means I am cowling you again.”

“Aww,” Ayna said childishly and leaned back, though obviously the woman was never going to just leave herself vulnerable. “What if I just promise really, really nicely?”

“Well, if you prefer the restraint chair over a bunk, then there is no harm in leaving your head free.”

“I’ll take a bunk, thank you,” Ayna replied with a sigh.

“As you wish.”

“You know, you are hard to argue with.”

“Good.”