Chapter Text
The Coreship Hotel is located in the Blue Sector of Coronet City, the capital of the planet Corellia.
A huge, long building that stands out in the intimidating area as the only place worth anything if you want to actually sleep without having your room broken into and robbed in the middle of the night.
More than just locals, the hotel sees almost every outsider who comes to the planet, attracted by the seductive promises of the Blue Sector, soon lost in the tangle of streets. Whether you ask at stalls or casinos, it doesn't matter; everyone points to the gleaming hotel, with its white and blue lights. It was inviting at first glance, but soon intimidated by the line of people wanting a room, those who were rejected and thrown out of the building, and the exorbitant prices displayed up front.
At the counter, there was now a blue-skinned Twi'lek —and if anyone asked, she was doing very well on her first day as a receptionist, thank you— conversing —because you shouldn't argue with a customer— with the rodian on the other side of the counter, who was miserably trying to get a discount so he could pay for a room.
The line could be seen outside the building by now, and it was only a matter of time before finding out if it would be the guards or another customer who threw him out.
That was what the other receptionists were betting on at the moment, watching with their smaller, faster-moving lines as the new one's line grew and shrank as customers arrived, joined the line, and quickly abandoned it to move on to the others.
"3 credits on the second guy over there, the zabrak. He's been here since the beginning and in total silence. One more from whine and he'll grab him." The low voice of the receptionist on the left, a tan-skinned human with blond hair, murmured to his colleague on the left as he handed a key to a departing customer. The silver badge bore the name Ray.
"Whine?"
"They do one between each cry!" The receptionist on the right rolled his eyes, a brown-skinned Arcona with a shiny 'Le-Dan' badge. He observed the zabrak in line. He had beige skin with dark tattoos that stood out easily. His yellowish, almost green eyes followed every flamboyant movement of the Rodian's hands, standing behind the man like a wall. "I'll bet 5 that he won't go."
The Twi'lek in the middle resisted rolling her eyes, both because it was immature and because the rodian —who was telling an unnecessarily long story about another time he'd supposedly stayed at the hotel— would notice and victimize himself somehow. She couldn't say she expected a perfect day, not when she knew she was going to work in customer service, but she hadn't polished her badge for that!
She lowered her gaze to the object, exposing her name, Anlise, in fancy script barely legible enough to read, black against a shiny silver background, perfect for the day! She'd even gotten the middle line to pick up more customers, and what for, that Rodian had been stalling for over half an hour now and looked ready to go on for another.
She glanced briefly at the zabrak. Maybe there was something she could do to get him to act? She didn't want to call security; their boss, Miyrea, was irritated with her for a minor slip-up regarding a falsely accused guest she'd wrongly defended and who had ultimately been the culprit. If anything, the woman was petty; those guards wouldn't help her unless it got dangerous, and not even she could pretend to be afraid of the frail, dramatic Rodian in front of her.
She heard the clink that signaled someone entering, a surprise; it was clear the lines were full. With a concealed sigh, she resigned herself to the fact that another like the rodian had entered, willing to negotiate a room until she could get one, even if it was through exhaustion.
What she saw instead was sophisticated and intimidating armor, with stains that might or might not be blood.
It wasn't the first time Anlise had seen a mandalorian. They were an uncommon sight, but not rare in an area like the Blue Sector. Sometimes they were shopping or doing repairs in the city, but usually they were hunting.
Corellia was a quick route out of the core and had the finest ships in the galaxy. Fugitives and pirates strolled through the Blue Sector —the most obscure and hidden area of the capital— as if they were born there. Where there were those with bounties on their heads, there were mandalorians.
Moving silently, following a few steps behind, leading their targets into corners they couldn't escape, dragging them, dead or alive, back to their ships. If you don't get in a mandalorian's way, you won't get in trouble. That's how she acted when she found herself facing one.
It didn't look like that strategy would work this time.
The mandalorian pushed through the lines and went straight —because of course he did— to her counter. The black cloak he wore —his most distinguishing feature, aside from the red details on his armor— was so long it almost dragged on his feet, his military boots tapping steadily on the floor as everyone fell silent as he advanced.
All except the rodian, who continued his explanation even though she hadn't been paying attention for a while; the man truly didn't know how to read a room.
He was silenced by the weight of the credits the mandalorian tossed onto her counter, his eyes blinking with fright and wonder at the money in front of him.
The Twi'lek counted them superficially with her eyes; it was enough for one of her best suites and some left over. She glanced quickly forward to check the line and the stunned silence. She vaguely noticed the zabrak looking down.
"I want a room, two beds, at least for one night." The voice boomed from inside the helmet, the transmitters doing little to hide the loudness of his tone.
The rodian blinked, recovering from his shock to look offended. Before he could open his mouth, Anlise stepped forward.
"I can check if we have accommodations for what you requested, but I can't guarantee—"
Another thud, the number of credits on the counter at least tripled, and she blinked silently.
She watched silently, still wondering how much of it she could get in change before having to return it, but the rodian still hadn't given up.
"There's a line, you know? You can't just skip ahead because you have money—AH!"
At first, she thought it might have been the zabrak doing something to silence the rodian, but his green eyes were focused on the mandalorian, on his feet…
She had to blink several times to make sure she was seeing correctly, until she rubbed her eyes; completely hidden by the mandalorian's cloak was a child, or what she assumed it was, based on its size, since all she could see were yellowish eyes and sharp teeth, which were turned toward the rodian.
The zabrak made a low sound, too quiet to be a growl, toward the small shadow.
The response he received was definitely an aggressive growl from the small zabrak, which revealed itself, teeth bared at the adult.
Unlike the adult, this small zabrak was vibrantly colored, as red as blood, with black tattoos that intensified its aggression and made it resemble a small bomb. Its black clothing further helped to hide it in the shadows as it glared at everyone.
His small claws were bared as he remained curled around the mandalorian's leg, his eyes focused on the zabrak and the rodian, who was slowly backing away from the violent child. He was disturbingly adorable; he barely reached the mandalorian's waist, so small he was, yet there was no doubt he was just as dangerous.
The zabrak made something between a snort and a laugh as he calmly walked away, the child still eyeing him suspiciously. The mandalorian didn't react to the boy's outburst and continued to stare at her, waiting for a response. Then, within seconds, two yellow eyes were staring at her from below.
She took a deep breath as discreetly as she could, before gesturing vaguely toward the rodian.
"If you wouldn't mind taking out the trash, sir."
The mandalorian's helmet barely moved, but it was enough for the rodian to understand who he was looking at through the visor.
For some reason, he didn't seem too happy with all the new attention.
"Get the keys." Watching the mandalorian drag the man out the door, Anlise only noticed the small zabrak approaching the counter when he reached out. He was shorter than the counter, his outstretched arm barely reaching the golden key.
"Room 396 on the seventh floor." She replied with a smile to the boy, who ignored her to look at the door and wait for the mandalorian to return. "What's your name, dear?"
The boy's look was more confused than threatening, and she had to restrain herself from reacting. Whether disturbing or not, he was still very cute.
"Jagannath." His voice was quieter than a child's should be, but softer and more expressionless than she expected. What a strange little boy. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the mandalorian return.
"The fourth elevator will take you directly to your floor," she informed him with the ease of someone who had practiced the perfect tone and expression. The man didn't answer her and continued to the elevator.
The little zabrak was no longer visible; she could only assume he had hidden himself in the mandalorian's cloak again.
As she listened to her colleagues cursing and passing credits behind her, she was finally able to continue her work. The zabrak quickly paid and got a room, and soon the mandalorian and little Jagannath were pushed to the back of her mind as their line began to move.
Dimly, she remembered that there was only one other guest on the seventh floor currently.
-
At the Coreship Hotel, there are seven floors in total.
The first floor is the cheapest and has the fewest rooms, as it is almost entirely occupied by the lobby and the staircase to the hotel's main restaurant. Connected to all four elevators, it houses the rooms that tend to fill and empty most quickly due to the flow of guests.
The second floor also doesn't have many rooms, as it is mainly occupied by attractions such as the restaurant, bar, and the hotel's own casino. In addition to the elevator connecting it to the lobby, it has luxurious staircases connecting it to all the other floors. Along with the noise and high prices compared to other suites on other floors, it is one of the least busy floors.
The third floor is the first floor entirely dedicated to rooms and one of the busiest, with higher prices than the first but still lower than the second. It is usually the ideal option for those who frequent the casino and other hotel attractions.
The fourth floor is simple with its core geared towards those staying for just one night, it is the busiest and the floor that newcomers choose, it shares a direct elevator with the third floor that connects them directly to the lobby.
The fifth floor is expensive, considerably more so than the fourth. It's geared toward the full hotel experience, with packages already included in each suite rental. It's also geared toward overnight stays, making it the perfect floor for an expensive adventure.
The sixth floor is designed for long-term guests, staying for a week or more, separated from other guests unless they're in the restaurant or other attractions. Like the third and fourth floors, it shares a direct elevator with the fifth floor.
The seventh floor is the least occupied; the maximum number of guests it has had at one time since Anlise started working at the hotel was five. It's the most expensive of all, with huge suites and a single direct elevator that can take you to any of the other floors.
Besides the mandalorian who just arrived, there is currently only one other guest on this floor.
Lee-Roye is likely the only Corellian who frequents the Coreship as a guest, as he is expelled from all other hotels in the region and is not well regarded by Coronet outside of the Blue Sector.
He is wealthy, so much so that he can always choose the seventh floor to stay. How he manages to acquire such wealth from the ships he creates —a common profession for Corellians— is a mystery. The most popular theory is that he works for a crime syndicate, or perhaps even all of them. There are unique details recognizable in each ship he designs and creates; some are seen on Corellia itself, bearing the marks of their original creator, similar in many details to the type of ships used by the Hutts and Crymorahs. The fact that he openly uses slaves reinforces this theory.
These rumors, along with his unpleasant personality, were what led to the Coreship being the place he came to when he was on the planet, rather than his ship or factories. So much so that there were specific staff to attend to him when he appeared; the butler who went to his room now was one of them.
Leky had worked at the hotel for many years. He was a Twi'lek known for his stoic and straightforward demeanor. He was often assigned to difficult guests who were expensive enough to stay at the hotel. Lee-Roye was one of them.
"Did he make any specific requests this time?" he asked the chambermaid who came from the guest's suite. The human woman, Lestra, denied it.
"Nothing beyond the usual comments, but he's with a new slave, as if he's showing him off." The disgust in her voice leaked like venom. She was good at her job and could ignore Lee-Roye's behavior when he showed up. That didn't stop her from cursing him as much as she wanted outside his presence. "It doesn't seem sexual, but the way he's acting, the boy could have been someone important when he was free. Be careful."
He waved as he continued on his way to his personal hell. When Leky reached the door of suite 425, he could already hear the music outside.
Opening the door brought the smell of alcohol and drugs straight into his face. He put his fist to his mouth to ignore the smell, and marched inside with narrowed eyes.
Over the years, Coreship management recognized that the best way to deal with Lee-Roye was to keep him quiet in his suite, and that's what led them to make a deal with the brothel a few streets away, so that instead of him soliciting their services and having prostitutes pass through the main lobby, they would let him know when he was checking in so they could send him products and spices.
So Leky wasn't surprised by the scantily clad women waving at him as he passed through the suite, nor by the noxious air of the room. The only new thing was the boy standing near Lee-Roye.
He was a young human, maybe 15 or 16, with tanned skin and dark hair. He had more muscles than he should have for his age, as well as scars. The clothes he wore were full of rips despite being clearly of high quality. Most revolting were the cigarette burns that had been burned on his forearm, burning through the shirt and the slave himself.
That is, if you didn't look at the metal collar tightening around his neck.
"Ah, Lavy! There you are!" Lee-Roye was sprawled on the suite's leather sofa, a cigarette dangling between his lips and a woman on each arm, waving at him as if he hadn't just completely mispronounced his name.
"It's Leky, Mr. Roye." The women laughed as the slave continued to stand nearby, his dark eyes cast to the floor with barely concealed anger.
"Of course, of course. I hear there's another guest on the floor now?"
He bit back a curse; this was another recipe for disaster.
"Yes. He arrived last night and paid for another week this morning." What had really happened was that the mandalorian had passed out on the bed with the little Zabrak hidden in his arms and had simply thrown more money to the maid that morning, which, added to what he had already paid extra, gave him a full week in the suite.
"I see, he's a mandalorian, isn't he?" the man murmured nonchalantly, but both he and Leky could see the shock the slave was trying to hide. "Since it's his first time here, it's only fair that I invite him to dinner, isn't it? Talk to him for me, Lemi."
He resisted the urge to correct the man again and tell him what a bad idea it was, but he had no valid reason to deny the request, so he simply nodded as he left the room as quickly as he could.
-
He couldn't say what he expected when he arrived at Room 396, but it wasn't to find the mandalorian still asleep in bed.
The little Zabrak eyed him suspiciously even when he explained his reason for being there. He wanted to tell him they could refuse the request, but before he could, the boy pushed the adult to wake him.
"Dinner?" Was the irritated mandalorian's only murmur as he stared at him with dark eyes. He had removed all his armor and was still as intimidating as if he were wearing it.
"If you wish, of course. There's no obligation on your part to attend or even respond."
"Except for the part where I'm going to be stepping on some rich bastard's ego?" He had no answer for that, so he didn't say anything.
The boy decided this was the moment to voice his opinion and kicked the mandalorian in the waist.
"I want to be alone." The mandalorian barely reacted, merely raising an eyebrow at the boy.
"And I have to leave the room I'm paying for because of this?"
"Yes."
The boy was blunt, he couldn't deny that. The mandalorian stared at him for a few seconds before snorting.
"Where would this dinner be?"
"In the VIP area of the hotel restaurant, sir."
"Who's paying?" He blinked. Usually, everyone's bill would be added as an extra if they hadn't picked up a package, but considering the situation, he supposed they couldn't go the usual route.
"Him, since he invited you." The mandalorian sighed, scrunching his eyes as he looked infinitely older than he should bee. Leky felt sorry for them. The same kind of sorry he felt when he had to order an employee to do something when they were tired, but he was going to order them anyway because that was the job.
"Okay, whatever. I don't turn down free food." Quite ironic for someone staying in the most expensive suite, but oh well. He said nothing as the mandalorian lay back down and pulled up a blanket. "Call me when it's time."
He nodded and headed for the door, the voices still behind him.
"Come here."
"Wha— No! I want to read!"
"Read here." From the sounds of it, he assumed the mandolorian had pulled the boy under the covers as well.
"I'm not a teddy bear."
"But you're warm and huggable like one, you can handle it."
As he turned toward the door, he watched the boy curse softly and settle into the covers with a datapad in hand, the mandolorian holding it to his chest, his eyes already closed.
-
On the second floor, further away from the casino and other attractions, is the library.
Even with the distance, they didn't skimp on the soundproofing; the place is so quiet that on entire occasions, you only hear the occupants' breathing.
That wasn't the case with the current visitor.
The little zabrak —Jagannath, according to Anlise— wandered through the bookshelves without making a sound. Not from his footsteps, his claws grazing the books, or his breathing. If she didn't see him —and sometimes she couldn't, as if he were a ghost— she wouldn't know he was there.
He didn't seem to be looking for anything in particular, circling and reading the spines of the books in silence, though she could see his lips moving.
From her desk in the reception area, she had a good view of the rest of the library. In the table area, there were some guests taking advantage of them to read, others hovering among the shelves like the boy, and some coming toward her to rent.
Jagannath continued to stroll, the pile in his arms growing as he explored more and more of the library, despite the boy's clear happiness at being in the room, she had the impression that he was melancholic somehow.
As far as she knew, he'd be staying at the hotel for another week, so it wasn't hard to understand why he was gathering so many books at once. But it was still strange. There were some he'd pull from the shelf with delight before returning them regretfully. The ones he was hoarding didn't evoke nearly the same reaction, but rather a subtle version of disappointment and contentment.
When he came to the counter —in seconds, he was in front of her— he had over ten with him. How could he carry so many?
"The rent will be added as an extra to your overall bill, but considering the advance payment, you won't have to worry." She smiled as she organized and sorted what he'd picked up. The titles varied: some about Naboo, several about the Outer Rim, some that compiled the latest political news, more about the Outer Rim, and then, perhaps the least strange for a boy his age, about rancors. "They're from Dathomir, aren't they?"
The boy blinked at her, seeing the book she was referring to. He didn't seem to expect her to question him.
"Yes. Naturally, most of them are. But you can find them throughout the galaxy."
"Ah, but those are mostly by trafficking aren't they?" She drummed her fingers thoughtfully, the boy watching her closely. "A scary job, hunting those creatures, I couldn't do it."
"You get used to it."
She fell silent, watching the boy. He continued, oblivious to her astonishment.
"Hunting rancors, especially Dathomirians, is difficult. Not only because of the basic logistics of capture, but also because of the planet." He had a patient expression on his face, but there was a certain air of satisfaction in the air. "The witches don't accept unwanted outsiders, much less those who steal what they believe belongs to them. Depending on how many you hunt, you have to have room to carry them all, because they don't fall for the same trick twice."
He paused, looking at the books in silence.
"That's what I read earlier," he said, pointing to the last book to be scanned.
"Can you read it?" She held up the book in question, snapping out of her stupor.
Jagannath glanced at the file; it was the largest of them all.
"Yes." Despite his clear uncertainty, she opened the book and began leafing through it in front of the boy.
"We have some of it translated, but most of it is in—"
"Dathomiri," the boy whispered, studying the writing on the book.
"It's an almost exclusive language. Some of it was already translated, and we can surmise more based on it, but it's barely more than half." As she spoke, she didn't notice how the boy's gaze changed as he stared at the symbols, his expression hungry for knowledge. "It's the most complete book on rancors we have, not to mention all the parts about Dathomir itself."
"It's unique," he whispered in response, and the woman sighed.
"Yes, it is. But that's the problem." The boy's mood began to sour as she spoke. "It was sold in a set, but it was the only one of its kind. We haven't been able to find any further information about how it arrived or its author."
Jagannath was far from happy with this revelation.
"My knowledge of Dathomiri is incomplete. I can understand it, but I don't think I could help translate it, not properly." She visibly wilted; he watched her blankly.
"It's a shame. This book is a relic, the most important in this library, in my humble opinion, if I may say so." The boy shifted uneasily. "But based on the translation we made, if there are other copies, this should be the most complete for you to read."
Jagannath nodded slightly before pushing the book back.
"Take it off my order. I'll read it here."
She smiled in confusion as she did as he asked. She wanted to ask questions and expand on the conversation about the books, but a small line had formed behind the boy, and she had work to do.
She caught a glimpse of him hiding at one of the corner tables, near the window in the moonlight.
What she didn't see was him scanning the book.
-
The hallway leading to the library was the only thing visible, but that didn't stop the mandalorian from staring at the direction the boy had disappeared.
Leky had essentially invited himself to the dinner, to ensure Lee-Roye wouldn't do anything that could ruin the hotel's reputation or his own, no matter how deep that ship had sunk.
The man himself hadn't appeared yet, only the mandalorian, who had already ordered a drink and was starting to look at the menu, his helmet hanging on the back of his chair.
Judging by the pages he was flipping through, he was enjoying not paying for the meal.
"Late!" It wasn't his name, but he looked anyway. Lee-Roye was approaching with a smile on his face, dressed surprisingly presentably and with a rather friendly smile; he might have kissed the man for that if it weren't for the extra company.
The slave followed him, his eyes fixed on the back of the man's head, his appearance the same as it had that morning as he dragged himself along on a limp.
Ah, Lee-Roye, you damned man.
The Corellian walked quickly to the table, his hand outstretched, his expression unchanged. The mandalorian took Lee-Roye's hand without rising.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, friend. Lovy must have already told you, but I'm Lee-Roye." The mandalorian's handshake was firm, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Hal."
Leky wasn't an expert, but if he had to guess, he'd say it was a fake name. Not that he would have known if it were; the mandalorian hadn't given them any name to refer to him by.
"Ah, you've already placed an order, great, great." Lee-Roye sat down with a smile, the slave moving to stand behind him with a continuous glare. "Oh, and it's good! Wonderful!"
The man began a casual conversation, which the mandalorian barely responded to. Lee-Roye didn't seem fazed by the one-sided conversation and continued with the same shit-eating grin.
The slave eyed the food with barely concealed hunger. Leky considered handing him something to nibble on, but he was sure Lee-Roye would have something to say about that, nor would he have brought the slave for no reason.
The mandalorian's dark eyes flicked to the slave a few times, but nothing else indicated any discomfort with the extra participant.
"Well, no one likes to confirm the obvious, so just tell me, Hal." Lee-Roye had clung to the name like a parasite, somehow oblivious to how the man barely responded to it. "As a mandalorian, which side are you on?"
This drew a reaction from the mandalorian —he wouldn't refer to him by a clearly false name— a slight arch of his eyebrow, a different glint in his eyes.
"Death watch." The slave jumped at this, his gaze fixed on the mandalorian.
"Wonderful!" Lee-Roye reached back in a sudden movement, pulling the slave by the chain to their level. "Can you guess who he is?"
The mandalorian stared lazily, and the slave glared back, even angrier than he'd glared at Lee-Roye.
What the hell was Death watch?
After a few more seconds of torturous silence, the mandalorian shrugged and turned to Lee-Roye again. The slave continued to stare.
Lee-Roye gave a nasty smile. Leky took a step back instinctively. The slave looked about to vomit, and the mandalorian didn't react.
"Come on, state your name, boy." For the first time, he looked directly at the slave, who didn't take his attention from the mandalorian.
The silence stretched for a few moments before Lee-Roye gave another tug on the leash that nearly knocked him off his feet.
"Jango," the boy growled, and recognition began to shine in the mandalorian's eyes. "My name is Jango Fett."
Lee-Roye's laughter was one of the most unpleasant sounds he'd ever heard. Seeing it erupt so freely made him sick, even more so when the Mandalorian's own dark chuckle joined in.
The slave's only reason for not moving against the men was because of the chains. The Mandalorian laughed loudly before giving a feral smile. Another step back, a feeling of being trapped.
"Lee-Roye, you truly are a man of opportunity's." The Corellian smiled, but Leky didn't think it was a compliment.
-
An hour of sleep was all he could manage.
He tried to sleep right away, tossing and turning for half an hour before pulling out a datapad.
His shallow knowledge of Mandalorians led him to research. The dinner took over his mind without permission, the hole from his lack of knowledge eating away at him. If he had managed to sleep, he would have had nightmares of repulsive laughter and chained collars.
Researching current Mandalorian society didn't help him at all, which he had expected. It was common knowledge that any Mandalorian who didn't act in accordance with the Republic was rejected by the planet's current politics, and such rejects proudly displayed this fact.
So he delved deeper, into civil wars and ideological debates, into discourses on what it means to be a true Mandalorian and what is considered terrorism in the Sector.
He understood the Mandalorian's reaction - a Death watch, now he understood the answer - to the identity of the slave, Jango Fett should be dead, buried along with the rest of the True Mandalorians and here he was, chained to a Corellian businessman.
Lee-Roye's increased arrogance made sense now. It hadn't just been a gift from the Pykes—according to the man himself, he couldn't help but hate how freely he declared it—it was a declaration. Lee-Roye was connected to the entire underworld; the Pykes wanted him to flaunt the fallen heir of the Mandalore.
The more he read, the worse it became. He actually vomited at one point, and after cleaning the floor of his own dinner, he forced himself to lie down and get some sleep. His shift began an hour later, the first task being to wake Lee-Roye. If he still had anything in his stomach, he would vomit again.
He allowed himself to stand in front of the door for a few minutes. It wasn't as if Lee-Roye would notice the delay anyway, passed out as he must have been. With additional mental preparation, he went inside to face the man.
The room was clean, the air of drugs and alcohol wafting through the wide-open window. He sighed disapprovingly before closing it and heading toward the bed. He counted the prostitutes, some sprawled on the bed and several passed out on the floor in uncomfortable positions.
Lee-Roye was in the center of the bed, completely covered by a single sheet—which was unusual to him.
"Mr. Roye?" No answer, he was the only lucid person in the room. "It's already morning, sir. You asked to be woken at this time."
Nothing. He shifted uncomfortably. Now with the window closed, a strange smell permeated the air.
"Mr. Roye." He lightly touched the man's arm through the sheet and immediately pulled away. Cold. How could his skin be so cold if he was covered? He pulled away momentarily and looked around the room.
The smell was pungent now; he felt his nausea return and realized he couldn't see the slave anywhere.
"Mr. Roye?" He stepped closer, his fingers curling around the sheet to pull it away.
CRASH.
-
Lestra sped up; the journey from 396 to 425 was long, but she knew she had to find Leky. It was urgent.
She froze when she heard a loud sound from the suite. She took a deep breath and continued on, hoping only that Leky wouldn't be the victim of the tantrum.
She hadn't expected to see Leky staggering out of the room, hunched against the opposite wall, the door wide open behind him.
"Leky?" She hadn't taken two steps before he turned to her, pale and almost green. "Get Miyrea, now!"
"Wha—"
"Go!"
She bolted outside, her desperation mounting as she heard the man double over to vomit behind her.
Through the open door, she could see blood leaking from the bed.
-
"Ms. Talya?"
She turned; the new receptionist, Anlise, was calling her. The girl fidgeted with her fingers restlessly, and she raised an eyebrow.
"Yes?"
"We've been ordered to go up to suite 425."
"I was about to open the library."
The girl shrugged, confused and uncomfortable. The Zygerrian sighed before removing the key from the lock and following her.
-
The smell in the room was still strong even after they opened the window. Now that they'd moved it, blood was seeping through the sheets and staining the floor. Everyone except Miyrea had moved away.
"He died hours ago," she declared, pulling at Lee-Roye's limp, disfigured arm. "But it took a while. They were gone before and instantaneously."
The prostitutes' bodies remained as untouched as when Leky entered, instantaneous gunshots to the head, hidden by hair or the way they fell. Six women besides Lee-Roye were dead.
"By a while, you mean…"
"Tortured until he couldn't take it anymore." She released the body. Had she not seen the man in person several times, she wouldn't have recognized the corpse as Lee-Roye. "You said he was with a slave?"
"Yes, but we didn't find him in the room or in the rest of the hotel." Leky replied softly, staring at the body with a mixture of revulsion and pity. Lestra was clinging to his arm. "Do you think he did it?"
"It makes sense. If he could neutralize the chip, there would be nothing to stop him, and a slave has plenty of motivation to go against his master." She turned to the librarian, Talya, who was sniffing the air around them. "Did you smell anything?"
"Just some drug residue and blood," she murmured, avoiding the body and turning to Leky instead. "You didn't bring me here just to sniff, did you?"
The man took a deep breath, his gaze shifting from the body to the woman, the heavy gaze of someone who had seen a lot in just a few hours.
"The guests in suite 396 are missing too." The Zygerrian grimaced. Anlise, in the far corner, raised her head. "We've gathered everyone who interacted with them in here."
It had been unsettling to leave 425 and enter 396. The suite was cleaner than it had been before the guests arrived, with no sign of the Mandalorian or the Zabrak having been there.
"Do you think they might have freed the slave?" Mali, the waitress who had served the guests during dinner, asked him. Leky frowned.
Based on his research, he believed something much more complex than the liberation of a slave had occurred.
"I think a lot of things happened during the early hours of the morning."
There was no point explaining his research to the women, both because it wouldn't change what had happened and because they would worry about his sanity.
"If we've already discovered everything we could, we should report the case." He pulled away from Lestra.
"Make the call to report an overdose." The woman blinked, but it was Miyrea who spoke.
"Does this look like an overdose to you?" She gestured to Lee-Roye's remains; he stared at them in silence.
"It looks like a lesson to be learned." He stepped away from the body and went to the window. "We should start cleaning up quickly."
Reactions varied, but everyone left the room with the declaration that Lee-Roye had died of an overdose. The two youngest, Anlise and Mali, were given the week off while the older ones split up, Miyrea and Lestra going to report the incident and Leky and Talya staying to clean up the room before the authorities arrived.
As they cleaned the room, Talya went to the balcony and suddenly froze.
"Talya?" Leky called, seeing the Zygerrian frozen. The woman took a few more seconds before answering.
"Nothing, just a little blood here." And a smell she recognized from the library, but it had been an overdose, so it didn't matter.
-
During two normal days on the planet Corellia, the seventh floor of the Coreship Hotel had two suites occupied.
One was occupied by the regular guest, Lee-Roye, a Corellian of ill repute and more money than anyone would trust a man like him.
The other was occupied by a Mandalorian no one had ever seen in the area, accompanied by a small red Zabrak whose eyes sometimes looked yellow and others golden.
The guests met once at the end of the second day. The next morning, Lee-Roye was reported dead of a drug overdose along with six other prostitutes, and the Mandalorian was never seen again at the hotel.
If you asked an outsider, they wouldn't be able to correlate the facts; if you asked any employee, they would say Lee-Roye's death frightened the man and he left early because of it. If you asked a select group of employees, they would say Lee-Roye played with fire and died as a result. If you asked a particular employee, he'd mutter about the outer rim and mull over the fact that no matter how much research he did, he'd never know what really happened during the early hours.
And if you mentioned it around the librarian, she'd curse loudly about books that would never be returned.
