Unforeseen Outcomes

Shomwe came to. She did not remember falling unconscious. However, as her senses returned, the pain all over her body probably had something to do with an explanation. She sat up. She was on the ground, somewhere dirty. She noticed the bars in front of her, then that she was on the wrong side of them. Compounding the problem, she had been relieved of some of her effects. Her jacket, along with her blaster, and the contents of her pockets had been taken. A throb in her cheek drew her hand to gently feel it. That proved to be a mistake as the subsequent flash of pain prompted an audible grunt from her.

This grunt was heard by someone outside her cell who strolled over to face her. He was a human male. His hair was maintained, and his outfit offered a peek at his substantial pay grade. Presumably, he held some status around here. “Still hanging in there, ah?”

“Yup,” Shomwe said half-heartedly. “What happened?”

“You fried the boss and got the stupid kicked out of you.” The man folded his arms contemplatively. “I have to ask, what did you expect was going to happen? You thought you were going to walk in, blast the most powerful person on the planet, and live to tell the tale?”

“More than that, you were all supposed to accept me as your new boss!” Shomwe raised her arms to wave them for effect before the bruises advised her otherwise.

The man was unmoved by her perspective. “We’re not a bunch of Mandalorian barbarians. You can’t expect to get someone’s job just because you killed them. What kind of laserbrain would want to live in a society where you get promoted through murder? That would be chaos. Not to mention it would make for terrible chemistry with your new subordinates.”

“Well then I thought you would at least appreciate my getting rid of Wusheg. That guy was garden-variety sleemo!”

“He was,” the human gave a conceding nod. “And in that regard, I offer you thanks on behalf of everyone working under the Dantooine Hutt Cartel. But you are forgetting one key thing: he was a Hutt. You don’t get to cross the Hutts and live.”

“Bah, that’s a dumb rule.” Shomwe waved dismissively as though the man himself was the one who came up with it. “So if I already got beaten half to death, why am I in a cage? Are you going to sell me into slavery? I wouldn’t bother if I were you. I’ve been told I’m exceptionally lazy.”

“Firstly, what happens to you isn’t up to me. The power vacuum you made earlier with that cute stunt you pulled is already being filled by some greaseballs that are the exact wrong combination of ambitious and incompetent.

“Secondly, from what I hear, slavery would be a very nice alternative to the fate that awaits you. You blasting a Hutt has the oversized slugs questioning everyone’s loyalty. People are eager to distance themselves from you and are offering to do all sorts of terrible things to prove themselves. The only reason you’re not strung up over a pen of something carnivorous right now is because the Hutt Council are busting their tails to ensure a smooth transition of power.”

“Uh-huh, yup. That sounds rough.” At some point, the battered Mirialan had mentally checked out of the conversation and was doing a damage assessment on the welts and bruises that covered her.

The man gave up. “Crazy bitch…” he spat. He marched off, leaving Shomwe alone with her captivity.

Left alone, she did a more thorough scan of her surroundings. A toilet in the corner looked functional, but as though it had not been cleaned since the building’s construction. Fixed to the bars was a trough for… drinking she supposed? The contents of the trough were one part grime for every four parts water.

No, thank you. No waterborne illnesses for me today.

The lock and bars were the best maintained part of her prison, but that was not saying much. After testing it, she imagined that with enough time and shaking, she could wrestle the door open. For now though, she was weak, and the ruckus caused by such an attempt would surely draw out someone to stop her. With little else available to her, Shomwe sat against the back wall, and pondered her next move.

It was difficult to track the passage of time, but something close to four hours passed before she spoke to anyone else. When she heard the footsteps approaching, she snapped away from the water trough she was about to try. A familiar figure stood beyond the bars.”

“Seak? Oh stars, am I glad to see you!”

“Shomwe?” the Quarren sounded uncertain. “Sea’s Song, I’m astonished you can see at all!”

“Huh? Why’s that?”

Seak produced a pocket mirror and held it up for Shomwe to look into. The face staring back at her was not one she recognized. The face she saw was a bulbous mess of greens and purples. It was misshapen to an offensive degree. And, like Seak said, her eyes were nearly bruised shut.

“Oh yeah, that’s going to need bacta.” She turned and tilted her head, getting a look from as many angles as possible. “Mother of Moons… I could be mistaken for a Klatoonian.”

“Is it true?” Seak inquired.

“Well, maybe not. The green skin and hair kind of give it away. Plus, I don’t really have the build-”

“Not that,” the Quarren interrupted. “Is it true that you’re the one who killed Wusheg?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, that was me.”

“Why would you do that?”

“He found out about my self-endowed bonuses. I figured he was going to do something excessive like torture me or make me reimburse him.”

“So you just shot him on the spot?” Seak asked incredulously.

“I figured it would be like it always is when someone stands up to the big bad – I defeat him, and everyone sees it as such a bold move that they just fall in line.”

“This isn’t a holovid, Shomwe!” Seak snapped. “You've always had a few screws loose, but this is just outright stupid. Your actions have consequences. You’re going to be flayed alive before an audience so the Hutts can send a message.”

“Eh,” the Mirialan shrugged. “It probably won’t be that intense.”

“What part of this aren’t you getting?” Seak was so frustrated now that she gripped the cell bars in anger. “They are going to make you suffer beyond comprehension. They are going to laugh as you die in agony! Why can’t you take your own death seriously?”

“Because I won’t give them that!” Shomwe snapped back. Seak was startled away from the bars. Gone was the green woman’s air of indifference. Now, under her distorting contusions, she looked nearly furious. “Day after day those condescending worms and their lapdogs order us around like abused droids. And stars save anyone that dares disappoint or deny. They enslave, and torture, and kill anyone they please. You get to live in obedient fear or die in rueful agony. I have spent a decade of my life poisoning junkies because that’s how I’m useful to these sentient sludge pools. What do I get in return? Barely enough to afford four walls and a roof! So yeah, I shot the oozing bastard. And I would have shot him a billion more times too, but he wasn’t even worth the tibanna gas of the first shot! My only regret is that it was a painless death!” Shomwe was left panting. Calming herself a tad, she continued. “These sleemos take from us until there’s nothing left to take, and then they throw us in the gutter like trash. I may not be able to stop them from killing me, but I’m going to do my best to make sure they don’t get to enjoy it.”

Seak let the silence stand for a while before speaking. “I can’t do anything for you - not publicly anyway.”

The Mirialan waved forgivingly. “That’s alright. Sitting alone in silence is a pretty good way to mentally prepare yourself for a gruesome demise.”

“I’m still going to see what I can do though. Just promise me that if I do come up with something, you’ll be ready.”

“Well, I don’t have much else going on, apart from the morbid introspection, that is.” She moved to the bars, reaching through for a hug. “Good luck.”

Seak gave a small Quarren smile. She met the embrace. “I think you need it more.”