Paradox : Five

Paradox 

Carth thought that Nirubu was singularly the most confusing man he had ever met in his life. In the days Viza spent recovering, and as the two men learned as much as they could through static-filled holovids, Nirubu continued to be a mystery of men – as evasive as smoke. And while he appeared to be a kind, collected person at first, his demeanor often turned cold or even manic, and these mood swings often came suddenly, without the slightest sign of a trigger. Carth had learned long ago that unpredictable people made poor companions in the end.

He was determined to remain unattached to Nirubu – and to Viza as well.

Currently, Nirubu was at the modest table in the middle of the room, smoking a cigarra and watching news holovids. He rested his cheek against the flat of his knuckles, eyes half-lidded. The cigarra burned between two fingers, and as Carth watched Nirubu began to smile.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” He hadn’t even looked up.

Carth didn’t flinch. “I don’t like men.”

Nirubu made a soft sound, shifting in his seat. His eyes, an icy blue, flickered up to meet Carth’s own. “That’s what they all say. And…” He took another drag from his cigarra. “I was only joking.”

“I knew that. It was just –”

“I haven’t found anything on Bastila yet,” Nirubu interrupted smoothly, still speaking in a voice as low as a murmur. “And the Sith are keeping quiet about the war, too.”

Carth decided to ignore his rudeness, for now. “How so? They have Taris pinned.”

“They’re not saying much about it, that’s all.” He looked at Carth with that silky indifference, and smirked. “Speaking of secrets, you’ve been kind of closed up yourself, sweetheart.” He licked the blade of his thumb and blew on it, a gesture rather like blowing a suggestive kiss.

Carth’s cheeks burned with fury. He was not in the mood to be toyed with – not by Nirubu, not by anyone.

This guy was Bad News.

“Why do you need to know?” Carth said, his voice stiff.

“Because I’m your teammate, sweetheart.”

“Not that much of a teammate.”

Nirubu threw his head back and laughed.

After a few more days, Viza was well enough to be up and about in public, which was a relief to Nirubu. Now, they could make a mobile attempt at gathering information through actual people, and not biased news holovids. She wrapped her wounded head in a way that mimicked the traditional headdress of Karnakra, an implication that she was a woman for sale, yes, but a good enough excuse to hide the bloody mess on the back of her head.

The three of them started out together, yet they were hardly out of their apartment when they came upon a raid on a small kiosk in the apartment complex. A Duros couple held each other with desperate need as they were threatened with a rather dangerous-looking blaster rifle. The female was weeping hysterically.

The Sith officer was a heavy-set, bow-legged man with bulldog jowls, though he was relatively young. “Get up against the wall!” he was screaming, red in the face, spit flying from his lips. “Go on, you alien scum! This is a raid!”

The Duros woman lunged for him, held back only by her frantic mate. “There was a patrol here just yesterday!” she cried at him in slurred, heavily-accented Basic. “They found nothing! Why do you Sith keep bothering us?”

Without hesitation, the Sith officer blasted her right between the eyes. She went down with a dull thud. Her mate screamed, clawing at his own face and tearing the skin with his powerful Duros nails.

The Sith officer turned his rifle to the Duros now, who fell into a terrified silence. “That’s how we Sith deal with smartass aliens! Now you get up against the wall before I lose my temper, again!”

The Duros complied with haste, thrusting himself against the wall. The Sith officer came upon him and kicked apart his legs, pawing him with a bit more vigor than necessary. Nirubu watched with disgust as the officer pressed his oversized nose against the back of the Duros merchant’s bald head and inhaled deeply. When Duros were panicked, they secreted a toxin that could be deadly to humans in large doses; but in small doses, they acted as a mild intoxicant.

So that’s what this was all about.

Carth made a soft sound of anger, and the Sith officer turned on them so quickly he nearly knocked the Duros merchant over. “Who are you?” he barked, pointing his rifle at them. “What is this? Humans hiding out with alien slime?” He looked them over once and then his eyes widened in comprehension. “You’re republic fugitives! Attack!”

He and his two droids opened fire. Viza shrieked and turned running. Carth threw himself to the ground, rolling behind an upturned fruit cart that had probably belonged to the Duros merchant. He carefully picked his shots from behind the cart – his blaster’s battery core was running out of juice.

Nirubu, however, drew two vibroblades from the sheaths in his belt. They were the short-bladed model, preferred mostly by assassins and people with sick hobbies, Carth noted. Nirubu charged ahead, seemingly oblivious to the blasterfire – which was foolish, but by sheer luck he avoided being hit, except for one slug to his thigh. At the last moment, when it seemed he would collide headfirst with the Sith officer, he tucked his legs back and thrust himself underneath the officer in mid-fall, stabbing upwards with both blades. Blood opened up from those wounds in a great river, spilling all over Nirubu’s hot, determined face like rain.

The Sith screamed, dropping his blaster and throwing his hands down between his legs as though to stop the bleeding. His knees buckled beneath him and he fell on his face. Nirubu finished him off by leaning down and snapping his neck, and then, once he was sure the officer was dead, he began to dig through the corpse’s pockets. His hands shook a bit, but otherwise he betrayed no emotion.

Carth gawked from behind the fruit cart. Nirubu glanced up at him once and smirked, twiddling his fingers.

Because the apartment complex was like a ring, Viza suddenly came from the other side of the hallway, looking a little bit dazed as though she’d forgotten where she was going. Nirubu casually tripped her, and the shock of falling seemed to startle her from her blind dreaming. She sat up and stared blankly at the mess on the floor, and then said in a tittering voice, “I don’t think that’s going to be easy to hide.”

Nirubu frowned at her. “You’re right,” he said, though he loathed to admit it. “Dammit! This guy doesn’t have anything on him. Not even a few credits.”

The Duros merchant, who previously had been cowering behind his kiosk, poked his head out with a cautious slowness. “Don’t worry about the body,” he said softly. “I will move it so that it looks like he was killed elsewhere. That should throw the Sith off the track. Also, I will clean the blood. With any luck, they will not be bothering us again for a while.”

Nirubu studied him carefully, and then diverted his attention to his own immaculate nails. “Thanks much.”

The Duros gave him a queer look. “It’s the least I could do.”

Nirubu glanced up again, this time smiling a cannibalistic smile. “That’s right. And you remember that. It was the least you could do.”

-- Note: taking small liberties.