Shua was trying too hard to replicate one of Diomeni’s moves, but Sid was willing to watch him try. They were occupying one of the training rooms, using modified B1s to sharpen their movements. Shua made to slide behind the droid and pull his vibro-sword out of its servo, but the movement was so slow and awkward that the droid recovered and stung him.
“Can we go now?" said Sid, standing beside the door.
Shua groaned, “Not until I get it right."
“ ‘Til’ you get it right,’ give me a break! Diomeni’s on another level, man! You’d probably need years for this stuff!”
"Well, this can be one of my years! Just because you don't want ta’ try—”
"Who says I don't?” Sid said, "But, Shua, there's a time and a place.”
"Oh, and what? This isn't it! First, you complain about the girls—”
"No, I'm not complaining ‘bout the girls; I just wanna be a little professional. Is that too much to ask?”
Shua scoffed, “Just three weeks ago, a group of Zeltrons and Twi’leks in a Jacuzzi, meters long, mind you, was too much to ask! Meanwhile, I'm being ‘professional’ and trying to hone my skills, and you’re giving me poodoo.”
"No, that's not what I'm complaining about. This is professional.”
"So what?”
Sid hesitated.
"You look like a fool.”
"And there it is!”
A small alarm bleeped on their wrist comms before they got any further in their discussion. Shua, his skin slightly tanned, sweaty, bald, and bruised, raced to the table that Sid stood by watching. Shua pushed off the pistol from the steel-gray table, searching for his own comm, while Sid moved further down to key in some commands. The training droid immediately turned around, heading to the room's left. The flat, stone-gray walls and floor with slight ramps on the left and right extended further down, making it a thirty-minute walk.
Shua looked at this path as it elevated, thought, Five minutes to defeat the first level, ten for the next, then fifteen for the most challenging level. How the hell are we…?
“Shua,” Sid shoved him slightly, “Get dressed, shift change.”
Shua watched him go, then got dressed quickly. He already wore pants with knee pads, so he took the other half of the body suit and slipped it over his upper body. It draped over him, two sizes too large, until Shua skimmed his fingers in a circle on the navy blue splat that would be on his chest. The black bodysuit with white tightened around him, becoming skin-tight, nearly suffocating him. Once it settled, Shua breathed in relief. The navy blue spalt fashioned itself on his chest, resembling a navy blue hand with only two fingers, the bottom narrowing into another point.
It’s a bident, I keep forgetting that.
Shua jumped in place, noticing that he was nearly touching the slanted ceiling but nowhere near the height of his old jumps. Shua landed with an excited grin and arched his back, laughing at how fluid and natural it all felt. The man took his jacket next, black with navy blue patches at the bottom and elbows and an avian skull on each shoulder; finally, Shua took the avian beak, some kind of owl, and wrapped the straps on the back of his head.
They exited their training area, standing shoulder to shoulder, Sid, the taller, darker-skinned man, and Shua, the shorter, square-jawed man, as a few women in pointed, wine-red hats or hoods approached. Shua and Sid recoiled lightly and separated, allowing the women with sharp blades and vibes of certain death their walk space. One woman lingered, her hood shadowing her face, and merely giggled. Shua and Sid didn’t wait until after they reached the turbolift to sigh in relief.
“So what are we doing?” Shua asked.
“Well, you know those big cat things Diomeni has?” When Shua nodded, Sid said, “Well, we gotta accompany the retainer.”
“Why?”
Sid rolled his eyes, “Well, 'cause Diomeni likes to use fear tactics on his prisoners. So, he has the, what are they called, taidoras kind of growl and scratch the doors.”
“Isn’t there a convention against that?”
“Isn’t Diomeni the guy who said he’d skin us alive after you humiliated us in front of him?” Sid said pointedly, then lowered his voice as they exited the turbolift, “And besides, in these wars, can’t let things like chivalry and honor get in the way of winning. It’s these modern times.”
As if proving his point, a few soldiers in sleeker uniforms compared to Sid’s began to torment a group of the Stain people. There was laughter and the sound of glass breaking amid the sight of a blue, flickering light surrounding the Stain’s heads as they clutched them tightly. One Stain twisted his head around before he slammed his face into the other’s chest, prompting a scuffle to ensue. Sid picked out words like, ‘Useless!’ ‘Unnecessary!’ ‘Defiled!’ Stupid!’ all in raucous fashion. Sid and Shua decided to give the woman in a Nexu mask the sight of them heading toward their duties; better that than to give her a reason to say, ‘What are you looking at?’
Shua rubbed his left thumb momentarily, “Okay, but the cat’s babysitter?”
“I didn’t ask. We just ensure the cat is paying attention to its smooth voice.”
“It?”
Mad laughter stopped them in their tracks before it was followed up with ‘Bottoms up, baby!’ The two exhaled, and a scream echoed in the gray halls.
“Enough with the questions, already!” Sid snapped, resisting the urge to clutch his heart, “It. She. The Siren, whatever!”
“Alright, calm down.” Shua placated.
“I’m not…” But then Sid clenched the bridge of his nose and sighed, “Okay, look, the truth is I knew a little bit about Diomeni before we came here.”
“You knew about the salacious women and parties?” Shua said, grinning suggestively.
“And the torture.” Sid deadpanned.
“Like Jabba, right?” Shua shrugged casually, “Sure, that’s creepy, but all bosses have to set a pecking order.”
“Not Diomeni. At least, not the usual pecking order.” Sid frowned, “You ever heard of the Inshia gang?”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Yeah, those guys from Eriadu, right?”
“You know the girlfriend of their boss?” When Shua nodded, Sid said, “Well, here’s what I heard about Diomeni. With Jabba, it has to end at some point, the pain. But with Diomeni? You listen long enough, and you hear things like ‘rebirth’ or ‘repurpose’ in the rumors.”
“Uh…huh.”
“...”
As if on cue, four men with Stains marched down the hall. The Stains grunted and hissed in a rhythmic tone matching the pace of their march; the men with Lurker jaw masks, huge smiles with brilliant white teeth, and green mouths with yellow lips. Lurkers were amphibious beasts Diomeni professes to keep as pets, which Shua wonders since Sid told him these animals were all over the galaxy and hard to tame. The two men in front corners whistled loudly. The Stains emitted short, high-pitched shrieks and broke their formation to circle each other while advancing. The two Lurker masks from behind whistled, and they resumed their tight, lined formation, three by three. Shua remarked on the stark contrast between their regular behavior and this order display.
“Shua, you’re not hearing me.” Sid continued, “I’m saying those Stains used to be real people and those Sirens.”
“...oh.”
“Yes, oh! That is the kind of guy we’re dealing with. And–” He points to the women escorting the siren, their faces the only display of skin, but clearly beautiful even with their crimson robes, “See those girls? It takes time to get there, but Diomeni could take less time to take it away and even more time to make us feel sorry for crossing him.”
“Okay, I get you.” Shua said before smiling brightly, “Hello, ma’am!”
It was meant for the siren, but she made no reaction. The woman next to her with a pointed red hat and pale face with black tattoos spoke in an unwelcome voice:
“Are you two ready?”
Shua gulped, “Whenever you are, ma’am.”
And they followed the Siren to the taidora’s room.
----------------------------------------
The walk was quiet as they descended to quieter levels. Shua and Sid expected to hear screams of agonizing torture, begging, and the sound of weapons constantly going off. But nothing of the kind could be heard. Shua wasn’t the best at reading the room, but something about the woman’s demeanor killed any thoughts he had about starting a conversation. So, on they went to fetch the taidora.
The creature’s room is kept just above the detention center, a curious place to put an animal’s room. Any ship carrying big animals, save maybe the Titavian IV, that zoo ship Sid would love to visit, was by definition odd. But there was one name that had spread throughout, and its association with animals followed.
Shua and Sid watched the door slide open. The taidora, burly yet agile-looking, with its big reptilian head and pointed cat ears and huge teeth, with forest-green fur, night-sky stripes, and golden eyes and a long, bushing, melon-green mane, battle scars adorning its stripped hide like badges. It shook its head like it had emerged from a rainstorm, the furs on its chin shaking slightly. The ceilings were tall enough to make the animals feel at ease, but to Shua and Sid, it may as well have dwarfed them. This taidora looked at the three as if to say, ‘Oh, you’re here’ and knew what they knew. It was at least two meters tall, and he knew it.
The woman called the Siren opens its mouth and says with a familiar, displaced voice:
“Skota, boy!
The taidora cocks his head, puzzlement as clear as day. The voice—Diomeni’s voice— welcomes the beast with open arms. Skota looks hesitant to approach, like a kid who hides behind their parents at the sight of a stranger. But the animal relents and allows the woman to scratch his chin, accepting whatever magic this must be in the eyes of an animal.
Shua whispered to Sid: “We got holograms; what's the point of this?” Sid hushes him.
Then, the Siren whirls around, and the two stiffen. The taidora growls over her head, taking the hint. She approaches them, and the two are trying to maintain eye contact with a woman who resembles a Miraluka, which was like trying to speak to a rock, and they felt stupid for doing so. The Siren corrects this and removes its blindfold. Sid compares it to pulling off an Ika-leach from Etti IV, and the two blood-red orbs stand in place, staring at them. And she smiles—or Diomeni smiles through them.
“You’ll know,” he tells them, “in time.”
Sid clears his throat:
“Lord Diomeni, we apologize if—”
She—no, he walks toward them, brushing her hand against Sid’s cheek. The movements are as sensual and natural as a trained dancer, yet they feel wrong. Sid shivers.
“Nonsense!” he beams, “I’ll have nothing of the kind! Why, I welcome curiosity. In fact–”
But the Siren with Diomeni’s voice turns her head. Sid follows her gaze and sees a wall. Sid awkwardly interchanges his gaze between the woman and the wall and decides that whatever this woman saw was nothing and that what Diomeni heard was beyond them. The woman smiles and says to the wall:
“Then, make haste, my dear.” She dislodged from Sid, and the man sighed invisibly. “Watch over my pet and let no damage befall upon the siren. For ‘twould be such a disappointing endeavor, and I simply haven’t the time for a fitting punishment for either of you shouldst ye be a boon in so sensitive a time.”
The woman placed her blindfold over her eyes, and her face reconstituted herself. The taidora growls warningly. She turns, humming a monotonous but pretty tune to Shua’s ears, and the taidora snaps his head to the woman. The giant animal admired this for a minute, lazily waving his tail behind him, and then the woman turned again and walked forward. Shua and Sid clear a path, with the former smiling nervously to the tune. She passes between them, and the two men nervously look at the taidora following closely behind her; the breath everyone needs when holding their vocals and interrupting any singing never comes.
Shua and Sid stood next to each other again, Shua still humming scratchily with the woman. Shua smiles brightly to Sid.
“What?”
Sid’s face dropped, “Don’t fail, basically.”
“Oh, why didn’t he just say that?”
Sid rolled his eyes but started biting his fingernail.
----------------------------------------
Of course, a seemingly simple, if unbelievable, task couldn’t go as planned. The entire bottom section detention level of the ship was vast and more noticeable from the outside, almost like a Vulture droid with a colossal missile attached underneath, but that was too exaggerated. It seemed Diomeni had prioritized a need for prisoners, even though this ship would see battle. There was a central control pillar with two levels to access the prisoner cells; of course, it was more of a recreational center for the guards. The prisoners in question would be tormented by the sounds of their haughty jeers and laughter and the sound of food being devoured.
The first level had a turbolift that delivered Diomeni from descending the ramps, specially designed for two taidoras who would rather not deal with stairs. Of course, not everything in Diomeni’s ship could accommodate the size of his pets, including the control room. Diomeni also felt that after a hearty, blood-soaked meal, his pets could exercise. Sixty detention cells filled the first level, where Zakriahs and Ahsoka were held, and each cell could contain at least two people.
The second and lower level was different. The eighteen cells could contain at least ten, and each was separated from the wall, like tents pitched around each other with a wide path to walk around. Or, as it would be the more obvious comparison, caged animals ready to take part in a Geonosian arena. Or, at least, how Shua imagines it would look at any rate; Sid was the animals' guy. He was pretty sure Sid tried to get to Geonosis before the Clone Wars were officially declared. Sid continued to bite off pieces of his nails as they kept walking, because now, they did hear noise. It was faint at first, but it was there. Shua rubbed the back of his bald head, then wiped the sweat off.
Sid, taller than Shua, with patches of black hair that dangled on his darker head, shook his head. Sid had a higher tolerance to new places than his partner. An explorer’s mindset was possibly to blame for this. Of course, Sid didn’t want to dig up old memories and said to his partner:
“Take out your holobook.”
Shua stops chewing his nails: “How do you–?”
“Just do it.”
Shua and Sid break off as they continue around a corner where one section of cells separates the other. Shua leans on the wall next to the cell door, takes out a small datapad, and opens it. Sid stays on the path, keeping his eyes trained on the Siren and the taidora, silently praying Shua doesn’t take too long. Two years ago, Shua and Sid worked together, smuggling goods out of Ansion into the hands of Morkah the Hutt, and when they had finally hijacked a ship for them to use and evaded the Jedi present, Shua took out an old, worn-out book with yellow flimsiplast paper.
As Sid navigated the ship, he heard Shua’s breath adjust and peeked at the title. UNCONSCIOUS SOVERIGNTY by Cromwell Mackamore, he remembered the title. Sid didn’t know what it was about and understood less after he asked Shua. All Shua could say was, “It calms me.”
“I didn't take you for the reading type,” Sid had said.
And Shua grunted, “Yeah.”
Sid understood then that he wouldn't get any more from his partner and left it there. After Morkah had paid the two for their work, Shua’s book was stabbed after angering one of Morka’s guards, taking the brunt of the blunt blade that never pierced Shua’s skin. Sid would accompany Shua’s seemingly one-track-minded quest to find a new copy of the same book.
“Every time,” Shua said quietly, after they had found it and flown off, “every time this book goes bad, I just buy a new copy.”
The two men had a professional working relationship, not friends nor brothers: just two men who happened to be heading in the same direction. As such, what one could or couldn't know and vice-versa was still uncharted territory. But Shua and Sid could spot boundaries like stars in the sky.
Shua’s breath had become stable and silent, and he discarded the item. He looks up to his partner. Sid looks toward his left, and Shua follows his gaze. Further down the corridors, a figure can be seen staggering. The head of this figure cranes and jerks in irregular intervals, and he seems to struggle on his feet. The figure lands on the wall and uses it to support his weight. Shua opens his mouth, but Sid closes it before he gets a word out. The two men shuffle off to the doorway, hiding behind the recess of the wall. Shua and Sid peak out as this kid fiddles with the cell door controls. Then, the kid looks upward as if exasperated and appears to stab the controls, causing them to spark.
“That kid! Is he supposed to be down here?” Shua asked.
“Really? He’s dressed like a Jedi!” Sid deadpanned.
“Hey, you never know! Shouldn’t be judging people by–”
Sid nodded, “Yeah, you’re right; I shouldn’t assume you’re a professional.”
“Oh, shut up!”
Sid made to call the woman, but she had disappeared from sight. Sid scowled and broke away from Shua.
“What are you doing?” asked the shorter man.
“Calling for reinforcements.” He takes out a communicator.
“No, wait.”
Shua grabbed Sid’s arm. Sid felt his head shutting down for a moment. He turned with a head that twitched slightly, one brow raised, and a deeper scowl.
“Does the word Jedi not ring any bells?”
“Does Padawan ring any bells?” Shua asked pointedly, “That kid probably doesn’t know how to fly yet.”
Sid blinks, “Can Jedi fly?” feeling stupid for asking.
“You wanna find out?” Shua grins crookedly, “Send him through space?”
He sighs, “Yeah, I do. But–”
“That’s a kid. We’ll be fine!”