The next morning
Oh maker, it hurts.
Vyen’a’s eyes opened slowly, painfully; eyelids caked with blood stuck together by the lashes and crunched as she tried to focus on the wall in front of her. Every nerve ending in her face screamed in protest, and she lay still, focusing on her breathing, counting fingers and toes, taking careful stock of her person.
Pants on. Good sign. Cement floor. Bad sign. Tasting blood. Worse sign. No blaster. Fuck.
She groaned slightly, pushing herself to a half-slumped position against the wall, eyesight sliding in and out of focus as she wracked her brain. How did she end up here, where is here, why is here?
Whiskey. Thinking about Jerax. Bar, 14th level lower, Nar Shaddaa. Heard my name, turned…
She groaned again, this time from the memory.
That little pindick Rodo always wanted to be a badass; looks like some Hutt gave him the chance. He was a lousy fuck and I told him as much. Figures he’d be bitter. And this Hutt. Who’s this Hutt…
Her brain flipped through its index of clients she’d shipped and smuggled for, both taken and rejected. Spice was always the offer from Hutts; spice was the one thing she refused to smuggle. Ever. Slowly the two faces merged together; human and Hutt; a business meeting one particularly hungover morning after, some eight months back.
Oh, this isn’t good.
She carefully brought her hand to her face, touching swollen and split lips. Her fingers traced the outline of her nose and she hissed in pain. Yeah, that’s broken. She tentatively ran her thumb across the old scar crossing her cheek, checking nervously to make sure the flesh had remained true.
Okay. I’m alive. In a room. Clothes on. Weapon gone. That sarlacc shit Rodo is out there somewhere. What do I do. Think, woman. Thi—
Her internal planning is halted as the door to the room slams open, and Rodo strode in, smirking. “The little slut is awake! Fantastic. Bring the chair, boys.” Vyen’a smirked up at him as best she could, eyes barely open from the bruising. “And here I thought you forgot all about me.”
Rodo laughed. It was not a happy sound. “Bitch, I’ve been waiting for this for damn near a year. Grab her.” The surly looking Trandoshans shrugged, setting down a chair and a bag and reaching for her. Vyen’a put her hands up in a placating gesture. “C’mon. A whole year, Rodo! I’m sure you’ve had a better fuck than me since then. Let’s just go get a drink or three. I’ll eve—” Her words were cut short by the man’s hand cracking across her mouth. “Shut the fuck up, slut. You always did run your mouth too much. I’ll be sure to use it for a better purpose later.”
Vyen’a spit on the floor and watched as the blood seeped into the concrete, then looked up, a snarl on her split lip. “I fuckin’ dare you. If you could even find it with both hands and a map, it’s barely bite-sized anyway.” The man scowled and brought his blaster up into Vyena’s nose, sending her reeling backwards as stars and fireworks of pain exploded across her field of vision. One of the Trandoshans caught her as she stumbled, looking at Rodo. He smirked triumphantly. “Strap her down.”
Vyen’a struggled feebly against the vice-like hands clamped down around her and kicked out with a snarl, sending one of the men hopping back with a yowl. Rodo’s hand cracked across her face again. “We’ll take that fight out of you, you haughty bitch. You’re mine now.” Her eyes sparked fire and she spit at him. He just sneered as the projectile missed it’s mark, watching as the men lashed her arms to the chair. “Yeah. First thing’s first. Lemme introduce you to your new best friend.” He pulled a syringe from his coat, filled with a liquid so vibrantly blue is almost sparkled. Vyena’s eyes widened slightly.
No. No. No, maker, no…
Rodo smirked at her expression. “Yeah. Not so high and mighty now, are you, bitch?” Vyen’a looked at him, fear apparent for the first time in her eyes. “C’mon, man. Anything but that. C’mon.” She strained against the bindings around her arms, trying to pull free. The man laughed, gripping her wrist. “Fuck. You.”
Vyen’a looked away as the needle pushed into her skin, squeezing her eyes closed. Fight it. Fight it. Do that Jedi meditation bullshit. Fight it, baby. Rodo laughed at her expression, waving the men out of the room first, then slamming the door behind him as he left, calling out to the other men. “Find her an outfit. We’ll have her dance in one of the cages tonight.”
Vyen’a’s fingers gripped the edge of the chair’s arms.
Fight it. Fight. Fight, you bitch! Fight!
She choked on a sob as the first tendrils of the drug started to curl around her consciousness.
I’m sorry, mama. I know I promised. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
Vyen’a opened her eyes, the walls weaving in and out around her, everything laced with glittering stars.
Jerax. Please find me.
Her lids fluttered, eyes rolling back.
Je—
