Kanan Jarrus (
notallofus) wrote2018-12-26 10:54 pm
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They finally depart the crawler at sunset, just outside Mos Taike. The Jawas settle in for the night, planning to make their rounds among the moisture farmers and the town's small market in the morning. Tsedec leads them out, shaking each of their hands and bowing quickly before heading back into the crawler. In the distance, the twin suns burn white and orange, the sky now dusted in purple and gray, the shadows of the dunes and of the small farm homes that dot the landscape cut darkness across the bright sands.
No more than a klik away is Mos Taik – compared to Mos Elrey, it looks rather run down. It's also surrounded by walls, but they're lower, and clearly chipped and crumbling in places. There are fewer earthen towers, most buildings also low to the ground, and while there had been plenty of activity outside the walls of Mos Elrey, here there's only one other vehicle, a speeder just at the wall, two figures piling sacks into it. Beyond the city, much, much farther in the distance, a cliff rises up from the sands, and perched on it the dark, miniscule outline of what must be the Hutt's palace.
But Kanan only glances over this, before turning back, out to the desert. Something about the color of the suns, the shadows, the wind rising over the desert makes Kanan pause. He looks out to the horizon, to the twin suns, one gleaming white hanging high above the other, deep orange and already beginning to fade as it dips deeper in the sky. The wind ebbs, but then picks up once more, whistling around them, chilling the otherwise warm evening. And beneath it – Kanan can hear it, like a voice, familiar yet changed somehow, calling out to him across the dune sea –
No more than a klik away is Mos Taik – compared to Mos Elrey, it looks rather run down. It's also surrounded by walls, but they're lower, and clearly chipped and crumbling in places. There are fewer earthen towers, most buildings also low to the ground, and while there had been plenty of activity outside the walls of Mos Elrey, here there's only one other vehicle, a speeder just at the wall, two figures piling sacks into it. Beyond the city, much, much farther in the distance, a cliff rises up from the sands, and perched on it the dark, miniscule outline of what must be the Hutt's palace.
But Kanan only glances over this, before turning back, out to the desert. Something about the color of the suns, the shadows, the wind rising over the desert makes Kanan pause. He looks out to the horizon, to the twin suns, one gleaming white hanging high above the other, deep orange and already beginning to fade as it dips deeper in the sky. The wind ebbs, but then picks up once more, whistling around them, chilling the otherwise warm evening. And beneath it – Kanan can hear it, like a voice, familiar yet changed somehow, calling out to him across the dune sea –
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"We will not enter the desert before morning. Return to your ship. Or if you prefer, His Excellency's court is always hospitable."
Hera remains still this time, but at the next table, a Rodian coughs in her drink.
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Fortuna, however, does, dismissing the Quarren from his attention as if the other being weren't even there.
"My ship is perfectly acceptable,," the Quarren says, moving to his feet with alacrity, voice gone quiet. "Thank the incomparable Jabba for his consideration."
The Gamorrean shifts to keep themself between Fortuna and the Quarren, but also to give themself a line on the Rodian, in case Fortuna looks too displeased.
Or that's Kanan's guess, anyway.
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"Would you like to join me, chik," he calls to her. She still keeps her eyes down, like she can't hear him now. "If you've been listening so closely..."
Hera's going to stay silent. She is.
She was going to stay silent. But then Fortuna flicks his fingers, and the the guard takes a step toward the Rodian's table.
"Schutta meulla." Hera says it loud enough to be heard, though it's a moment before she looks up. "Nu jun rom sendrnem?"
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He has a feeling that this particular crew paying attention to him and Hera is bad news, which only gets cemented by the increasing hush in the room, as Fortuna's attention focuses on Hera, leaving the Rodian behind.
(For now.)
"Ah, nerria riloka, how proud your tongue is, far from the tunnels of your kin," Fortuna says, mostly in Huttese.
Kanan is pretty sure at least a few of the words in there are Twi'leki, since the sound of them is familiar, even if the content is obscure. "Be careful no one tries to rip it out."
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(She's also hoping that the Rodian has the sense to run.)
"On nerricho lenk."
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"Pfah. You are a worm beneath my feet, girl. But my master does like those with your coloring . . . perhaps your own master here will be interested in a sale."
He turns his attention to Kanan at that, because whether or not there's truth in it, it lets him get some of his pride back. And here on Tatooine, so close to Jabba's palace, that is often all that matters.
The Rodian, meanwhile, slowly slips out of her chair and begins to fall back into the crowd. She's small, which makes it easier not to draw too much attention. Plus there's . . . well.
Hera.
Kanan takes a deep breath, but doesn't answer. He can feel the shape of his blaster in his mind, knows exactly where and how fast to reach for it if everything falls apart now.
Sometimes there isn't anything else.
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Along her back, her lekku, she senses the Rodian's movements, hears her footsteps before they fade into the din of the bar.
As she looks back to Fortuna, she smiles, and shrugs. Switching to Huttese, "Sorry, it doesn't look like he wants to sell his worm."
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The grab is slower than the approach, but only a little.
Kanan tenses, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet and lifting himself very slightly off the chair. Maybe this is where they start running?
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But she doesn't run. Fortuna coming at her, reaching to grab her, sets a fire in her mind, burning out any cool reasoning she might have had before.
Hera grabs Kanan's glass, smashes it into the table, and throws the sharp base of it not at Fortuna, but into the Gamorrean's face.
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Then he hauls himself to his feet, flipping the table so it functions as a bulwark between Hera, himself, and Fortuna's crew. Hopefully this'll give them time to get out of here, but first -- disengaging from combat in general.
Fortuna is still snarling, spitting out commands to his bodyguard, who is bleeding into his own eyes. "You fool! What do we pay you for? Get her!"
But at the same time, he's also closing with Hera, because otherwise he'll lose face, and that . . . might end poorly. (Or so Kanan assumes, knowing what everyone does about Hutts.)
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"Stay back, reimenja," she hisses at him.
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The Gamorrean squeals in return, snorting loudly in his own panic that his employer -- or his employer's representative -- might die on his watch, actually stumbling into Fortuna and getting blood everywhere.
"I think that's our cue," Kanan says, reaching out toward Hera, ready to grab her wrist and tug her out behind him.
You know, if she refuses to go herself. (He's braced for her to whirl on him, too, given that Fortuna was just trying to grab her, but he really doesn't want to use her name just now.)
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The other patrons practically shove themselves out of the way as Hera and Kanan head for the door, if they're not running for an exit themselves. No one wants to be anywhere near this.
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Behind them the Gamorrean staggers, axe dipping toward the crowd, and more screams go up. He turns quickly, though, hefting the axe back upright as he moves in Fortuna's direction, wiping the last of the blood out of his eyes.
"After them!" Fortuna shrieks, turning to glare at the Quarren, who appears to have been trying to lose himself in the crowd. Then Fortuna and the Gamorrean, at least, begin to give chase.
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Once they're over the threshold, she flips it on. "I'm sending you coordinates now, meet us there -"
Chop's beeps in response nearly sing song 'I told you so.'
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"Less jumping onto the landing ramp that way."
And Gamorreans aren't the world's fastest stair-climbers, given the lack of flexibility in their knees.
One comforting thing is that so far, blasterfire hasn't followed them, just . . .
Okay, just the axe, and the screaming Twi'lek, but they both know that lack of blasters isn't going to last. "Laundry!" He ducks under heavy bed-hangings that are still wet, tugging down on the line behind them in hopes that it'll collapse on Fortuna and his crew.
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There's a pulsing from her comm, Chopper signaling. Hera looks around, trying to find the tallest spot she can, but with the suns gone and darkness fallen over the town, it's hard to make out the buildings against the dark sky.
Lights are on in a few of the windows, and she finally spots one above the others. "That's probably the highest we'll get."
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It's probably as close as they're going to get.
"You're not going anywhere," spits the Quarren, who drops down from an adjacent rooftop, brandishing a blaster.
There are other footsteps in the alley, and some more grunting, doubtless the frustrated sounds of a Gamorrean fed up with running. And, of course, Fortuna himself, huffing in deep lungfuls of air and looking remarkably put out.
This is . . . bad.
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- and she can hear it. A sharp turn of the wind in the distance.
But still she says, low, to him, "I'm sorry about this."
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"Never a problem," he says, even though maybe it's about to be. Life's full of surprises.
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And the dust road between them explodes. Lights blink on in the building around them, and she can hear the three calling out in surprise, scrambling away. Now she's the one who grabs Kanan's arm.
"Now, let's go!"
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"Looks like it's jumping onto the loading ramp again, huh?"
There are worse fates. So, so many worse fates.
And behind them, amidst the fountaining cloud of dust and the smell of ozone, rises a shrieking scream in Huttese. "The master is going to have you all killed!"
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Her other snatches her blaster from her ankle holster.
"I can cover us, just help me get to the roof."
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He can only hope that it'll be fast enough, but for the most part it seems to be.
"Hold on," he says sharply once they near the top, shoving Hera down flat and throwing himself down next to her. At practically the same instant a blaster bolt -- actually several blaster bolts -- spatter and scorch the awning they're just barely resting on.
"Right," Kanan says, after a moment, "up we go." They're almost there.
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But again, she stops herself.
And then Kanan's pulling her down, and up, into the light of the Ghost above them, and Hera can't make out their pursuers any longer.
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