Ayna’s little pursuit continued on through thinning crowds. It meant fewer people to use for cover but also more gloom for her to skulk in as Saketa left the more inhabitable areas behind. The woman would on occasion accost people and talk to them before walking off in a new direction.

The general impression was that she was looking for something. And the search finally took her fully away from the extended refugee colony and to a tunnel.

Ayna was no expert on stations, new or old, but it seemed to have housed a rail at some point in the distant past. Rib-like supports marked the tunnel at regular intervals and the only lights were red bulbs in the floor, the line broken up by many dead ones.

Well, this just gets better and better, Ayna thought, even as she scolded herself for even thinking of following. Then, as Saketa had gone a decent distance down the line, Ayna followed.

She still didn’t fully understand how non-Dwyyk eyes worked, but if Saketa wasn’t a baseline “normal” then she was at least close enough. And Ayna was about as sure as possible that the woman wouldn’t spot her darting between ribs. So that was exactly what she did.

The Fringer was perfectly visible and wasn’t making any particular effort to be silent either. A good distance down the hallway she opened a side door, detached the sheathed sword from her belt, and then strode in.

Ayna remained by one of the ribs, poking a single eye out beyond it. She was wondering whether to put an end to this exercise when a muffled shout made it through metal. More shouts followed and their tone made her stay very still indeed and make sure the hood was fully in place.

The door opened and through it stumbled a man and a woman. She had a crummy little pistol and he had an iron bar that had clearly been modified to serve as a weapon. But they were scared.

Saketa came through the door at a run and the other woman didn’t get a shot off. The Fringer swung her still-sheathed sword and the gun flew free with the sound of cracking bone. The man swung his bar but Saketa parried with obvious skill, then elbowed him in the face. It was a perfect hit, square on the jaw, and the man dropped like a sack.

The woman with the broken arm had fallen back up against the wall and was clumsily trying to draw a knife with her whole one. Saketa now drew her blade in a quick flash and advanced on the woman.

Ayna’s eyes widened and the woman shouted something desperate. But Saketa stopped once her target was fully flat against the wall, and pressed the sword-tip against her throat.

The other woman held up her usable hand, empty and pleading. Ayna didn’t understand the words that followed, but Saketa’s voice was harsh and cold, either condemning or demanding something. Ayna was entranced enough that it took her a moment to notice that the man was stirring and trying to be subtle about it. He was reaching for the dropped gun.

More alarm shot through Ayna. Someone could die at any moment but her instinct was to hide, to let danger pass by.

Saketa brought her sword around and stabbed it down into the man’s hand. He cried out groggily and Saketa kicked the gun down the hallway as if she were punting at a ball game. The other woman took her chance and ran, in Ayna’s direction. Saketa caught up with her within a few steps and kicked at the back of one knee. The woman fell, landing on her broken arm with an agonised cry. Saketa straddled her before she could try anything else, and now held the edge of the blade to her throat near the crossguard, as if for a long, deep slice.

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All sorts of urges rushed through Ayna as Saketa muttered something low and dark; ingrained instinct warring with human empathy, which in turn warred with the fact that she had no idea what this was about.

The woman was making desperate attempts at appeasement. Saketa’s face was cold and angry and for a moment Ayna thought she really was about to start the cut. But then she abruptly stood up, let out a few last words, then walked off back the way she’d come.

Ayna pushed into the shadows. Pained groans echoed through the tunnel, along with Saketa’s footsteps and the soft swish of her sword returning to its scabbard. The woman strode by, staring straight ahead, and was soon to the end of the hallway. After she rounded a corner Ayna risked a peek out.

The unlucky pair were badly shaken but not too injured to stagger back through that door this whole mess had emerged from. Once they were gone too Ayna went back the same way she’d come, keeping to the shadows.

She peeked around the corner as she reached it. Her eyes saw all that there was to see, which was very little. She was alone.

I wonder what all that was.

Someone grabbed her shoulder from behind.

Ayna went for the baton, but now her wrist was gripped as well. Saketa held her for a couple of moments as the initial shock passed through Ayna.

“How did you do that?!” Ayna then asked, when the woman made no other immediate move. She glanced back, looking for a nearby door.

The neutral-faced woman released her wrist, but kept the grip on her shoulder.

“I don’t care for being spied on,” she said.

“Wellll.... no one does,” Ayna said and flashed her big smile.

It had a history of working with people, but she wasn’t sure what to make of Saketa. She seemed to smile a little, but it was stiff and faint. The woman just stood still, bathed in the nearest red light.

“Look... sorry. Just practising. You seemed like an interesting subject.”

“My paths are dangerous,” Saketa warned her.

“I noticed,” Ayna said.

“Have you been following me long?”

“Actually, no. Just came to the lower levels because they seemed like the right place. Did you hear about that big fight?”

“Fight?”

“Some kind of gang bust-up,” Ayna told her, hoping to just lead this into a normal conversation. “They say a Kalero Warden was involved. I’m a bit sorry I missed it.”

Now something did shift in the woman but Ayna had no idea what it was. She was silent for a few moments before speaking.

“There is a Warden here? On-station?”

“Eh, that’s what the crowds are saying, anyway,” Ayna said. “I’m afraid I don’t know any details.”

Saketa released her shoulder. The woman’s eyes left Ayna, looking pensively at seemingly nothing. Then she turned around and faced a wall. Ayna had no idea what was going on.

How DID she do that?

“It makes no difference,” she then said dully.

Saketa turned around and half-raised her hand, hesitated, then put it on Ayna’s shoulder again, though more gently. It seemed an attempt at being reassuring.

“Your group...” she said through that rolling r accent. She tried to smile, but there was a haunting in her eyes. “Is it still going to Wembella?”