Last Chance: Myn and Lara - pt. 22


Lasca Terrine had quite the surprise when she opened her shop, finding herself accosted by the young man she knew of as Ardmin Jidone, officer of the Corellian Security Agency. She had only just flipped the shingle showing her to be open for business when he burst through her door, barely even giving the mechanism time to slide out of his way.

"Miss Terrine!" he called out breathlessly, grasping her upper arms in his warm hands, as though to reassure himself she were real. Lasca was startled to feel the pounding of his pulse through that firm grip. Two spots of high colour stood out on his cheeks, and his eyes were bright with exertion and excitement. His brow bore a faint sheen of perspiration.

"Officer Jidone," Lasca replied, by way of reminding him they were on a first-name basis. "Whatever is the matter?"

"I'm sorry, I had to run straight here," he replied, having scanned the shop quickly for other ears, she assumed. As a woman to whom very little exciting had ever happened, Ardmin's agitation was somewhat shocking, although, she had to confess secretly she rather enjoyed how exciting he'd made her life since walking into her shop the day before yesterday. As well, she had to admit to herself, she found him very appealing in this state.

As she waited for him to focus his thoughts, she admired the other qualities about the young man that she found appealing. From his intent expression to his spit-shined boots, he seemed to exude determination, but there was a look in those soft blue eyes framed by thick, black lashes: an almost haunted expression. Was that concern? For her?

"You haven't been contacted by anyone from CorSec, have you?" he asked.

Lasca shook her head, somewhat bemused at hearing the nickname from an officer of that agency. "No, not yet. You'll recall I'm not expecting them back to collect until the day after tomorrow," she replied.

Ardmin drew in a deep breath, apparently to steel himself for some unpleasant task. "Good. Listen, Miss Terrine, I have to apologise-"

She cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. "It's Lasca, Ardmin, and I'm sure it's of no matter."

"Lasca," he repeated seriously, "I'm afraid you're wrong about that."

He took her arm again, guided her gently but firmly to a seat by the counter, and proceeded to explain what had occurred the day before, at his interview with the Internal Investigator. Then he detailed the events of that morning, since he'd set foot on the sidewalk outside the practice range, setting the carrisak with his ruined clothes in it on the floor before her. He gestured to it at the point where he described diving for cover, and she pulled the items out of the bag and examined them as he talked.

When he had finished he told her the conclusions he had drawn from the morning's attempt on his life. "If they would take that sort of a risk with me..." he shook his head, his expressive mouth a thin line. "That's what I'm apologising for, Lasca."

The silence lengthened as the enormity of her situation penetrated the shop-keeper's mind, and her hands stilled in her lap, still holding the stained shirt. "Oh dear, Myn, what do I do?" she asked. There was no rancour in her voice, only honest fear and worry for her situation.

He took her hand in a reassuring grasp, "I'll just have to take it further up the chain of command," he replied soothingly, "I can't believe the whole of CorSec is tainted."

"Oh, of course," Lasca breathed deeply and turned a relieved smile on the young man at her side. "You fly out of Centrepoint - you work under the Director himself." She did not understand the small deepening of his frown. "You can report this whole matter directly to him! Oh, that's such a relief," she added, "This will all be over soon."

With an odd hesitation, and a noticeable tightness to his lips, the young CorSec agent shook his head. "No. Lasca, no. I can't do that, it's a question of... uh, jurisdiction." His eyes met hers and she read a plea for her understanding in their blue depths. "It's not going to go that quickly and I want you to be very, very careful from here on out, alright?" He tightened his grip on her hand a little, as if he wanted to impress upon her the seriousness of these matters. "Is there a chance you could get out of town for a while?" he asked suddenly, "Or otherwise keep a low profile?"

Lasca thought for a few seconds, grateful to have something else to think about for however short a time. "I suppose I could go to my sister's, over in Hub City." The officer made a curious face at the mention of the hemisphere's other metropolis, part recognition, part guilt, and some unidentifiable other emotion, that bore a resemblance to a deep longing, locked away under strict control. It occurred to Lasca that the young man holding her hand in her little shop was a very complex individual indeed.

"You do that, Lasca," he ordered her firmly, "But if any of the perpetrators from CorSec show up here, give them what they want. Give them everything they ask for, and don't worry if it's answers. Tell them everything if you have to, there's a very good chance it may save your life."

Responding to the authority and gravity of his demands, Lasca mutely nodded her understanding.

"I really am so sorry, Lasca," he said again "I didn't think it had gone so far up..."

"It's alright," she replied, her manner returning to her more usual brisk but warm efficiency, "No one could have predicted that; I certainly had no clue myself."

Self-remonstrance showed strong on Ardmin's face, but was quickly hidden, and for a second Lasca wondered how such a sweet-faced young man had ever become so good at hiding his emotions.

"Listen, I need to go. I have to warn the rest of my contacts," he explained as he rose from his crouch beside her.

Lasca nodded and let go of his hand to pick up the shirt again. "I'll fix these up right away," she said, taking refuge in the familiar task of tailoring.

"No, that's not important.," he argued, "You need to comm your sister about that visit." His urgent manner reminded her of the danger she might be in.

"I know, and I will, Ardmin," she said evenly, "But I can take care of this while I do that, you know."

With a resigned smile, and yet another apology, the handsome officer left her store.

Her knowledgeable hands working quickly, Lasca had soon mended the torn trousers, but the stain marred the shirt severely. She selected a replacement and made certain to treat it with a stain-blocking spray before folding it carefully and adding to his bag. The pants mended and the shirt replaced, Lasca tucked a few other articles into the carrisak, garments she thought he'd look superb in, but would never had accepted if she'd gave him a choice.

Recalling the myriad of expressions that had crossed his face over the course of their conversation, Lasca found herself somewhat thankful. It's for the best that I'm old enough to be his mother, she thought, He's such a puzzle. Still, if I were younger... She smiled knowlingly, thinking of how she would have snared such a fine catch easily in her day.

It was the last happy thought she was to have.

~*~

Myn was heading out of the cobbler's, having traded his warning for the boots he'd ordered, which were tucked under his arm, when he heard the scream.

He ran, his limbs already loose from his sprint to Lasca's shop earlier, and was appalled to find he was retracing his steps. Smoke rose from the open door, a thin stream smudging the air, and there was a younger woman with short-cropped black hair, Myn recognised her as Lasca's clerk, standing shaking right in front of it. She'd backed out of the door, and her face was still frozen in a rictus of horror. Before she even said the name, Myn knew.

"Lasca..." the woman murmured, latching onto the sleeve of his uniform. He jerked himself free and pushed past her. He dropped his package into her arms before charging into the store, intent on rescuing the woman who had trusted him, who had helped him. He bit down on the sudden surety that he was too late.

The smoke was thick and greasy, and seemed to be emanating from the storerooms at the back of the shop. Myn's eyes were running within a few seconds of entering that toxic atmosphere, but her found her near the counter, lying almost where he'd sat her down to tell her the bad news. Lasca was on her back, one foot still caught in the legs of the upturned stool. She was dead. One look was all it took to determine that, for she had two clean blaster burns, one in her side, one in her chest.

Close range, lower calibre, Myn's training informed him. As gently as he could, he lifted her up, cradling her still, too-heavy form to his chest. His heart felt heavier even than the body in his arms. She had one hand clenched around a familiar navy carrisak, which fell from her limp grasp as he carried her from the doomed shop and out onto the street.

He laid her down gently, a little way from the shop, oblivious to the gathering crowd of onlookers, and futilely checked her pulse, but there was nothing. Her eyes were frozen open, and her face bore only a hint of the terrible pain of her death.

Kneeling beside her, a sudden heat bloomed in Myn's chest, as he realised why this had happened. She'd tried to help him, tried to do what was right, and there was no doubt in his mind that he'd caused her death. He'd cost this innocent woman her life with his meddling, and now everything had changed. Where did he go from here?

Looking down at her pale face, he reached over and gently closed her unseeing eyes. He fought the stinging in his own eyes, and a thickness in his throat that suddenly had nothing to do with the acrid smoke he'd breathed.

~*~


part 23

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