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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 –

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Hera know she should dart behind the table, but the guard's stumbling back, and Fortuna's close enough to reach her before she moves. So she risks moving in first - she leans forward, and slams her shoulder into Fortuna's chest, trying to shove him off-balance - and counting on him not being much of a fighter himself.

"Stay back, reimenja," she hisses at him.

Fortuna is very clever in his speech (or he can be, when he chooses to practice it), and one might even call him graceful on the occasional dance floor. But Hera is right, he is no fighter, which means that his feet go out from under him and he staggers, shrieking in burgeoning panic as he starts to tumble to the floor.

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.)

Hera does have to stop herself - she turns on him, but then halts herself so quickly that it feels like slamming into a steel wall. Shakily, she nods, and moves with him. Fortuna's already pulling himself, and the Gamorrean starting to get the blood out of his eyes. They won't be down for long.

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.

"Break left once we're outside," Kanan says, voice low -- or as low as he can reasonably make it. "I've got a good feeling."

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.

Edited 2019-01-05 02:44 (UTC)

Hera is definitely not having a good feeling about any of this, but she follows him, reaching for the comm on her belt.

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.'

"Deeper into the streets and then up," Kanan says hastily, ducking down into an alley and skidding into the wall while shoving Hera briefly ahead of him.

"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.

Edited 2019-01-05 02:55 (UTC)

Hera feels worse about the laundry than she does the Gamorrean's bleeding face. Maybe that's something she should think about - but not right now.

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."

"You want to take the stairs?" Kanan asks, nodding toward a series of awnings nearby.

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.

Edited 2019-01-06 02:30 (UTC)

Hera steps sideways, in front of Kanan, forcing him behind her. Her comm is pulsing faster -

- 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."

Fortuna starts to snarl something in Huttese that would probably resolve into "Oh, you'll be sorry," but Kanan speaks right over that.

"Never a problem," he says, even though maybe it's about to be. Life's full of surprises.

Hera looks back up to the Fortuna, the Quarren, and the Gamorrean, closing in on them. And then there's light.

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!"

"I'm going!" he calls back, not hesitating at all as she tugs him onward.

"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!"

She holds onto Kanan with one hand, keeping her grip tight though her palm pulses painfully.

Her other snatches her blaster from her ankle holster.

"I can cover us, just help me get to the roof."

"Will do," Kanan says shortly, gripping back on her hand just as tightly and starting to tug her up the curve of the first awning. It only takes a moment before he reaches out into the Force, tightening his grip around their bodies and shoring up the cloth under their feet to keep them stable as they climb. It's less dramatic than flinging them up through the air, but it's also a lot less noticeable.

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.

She lets him guide them up, turning away from him to fire back toward the three figures now below them. Close enough to force them back - she's not shooting to kill yet, though there's a second as she barely spots the outline of one white lekku, through the dust and debris, that her finger tightens on the trigger.

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.

Behind them is the sound of profanity in Huttese and a heavy flurry of blasterfire, but the bolts splash harmlessly off the ship's hull and the roof of nearby buildings.

Kanan takes a moment to hope that no one decided to take a few hours to watch the stars tonight, but --

"You all right?" he asks instead, rolling to his feet while keeping himself between Hera and the edge of the ramp. Not for any good reason, it just makes him feel better, and right now he'll take that.

Hera stays down on the ramp, even after it has lifted back into the ship. She looks down to her hand, which she only now realizing was hurting because it's bleeding. She must have sliced it when she shattered the glass.

"Some bacta bandages," she says, lowering her hand and looking back up to him. She feels the Ghost rising again, as Chopper takes them up toward the atmosphere. "I've had worse.

"I'm sorry."

"I'll get them," he says, heading toward the kit they keep stashed on the wall of the cargo bay for just such these occasions.

"And -- " He makes sure to say this while turned away and fishing through the first aid supplies for bacta, bandages, and some cleaning wipes, "I'm pretty sure he had it coming."

Fortuna, that is. But probably the rest of them, too.

"It put you in danger," she says, pulling herself as he moves away. "We didn't need that."

Even if she knows, as she says it, that she was never going to let Fortuna take out his anger on that Rodian, either.

"... and I did something else."

"Better us than someone else," he says, because, well.

Because of course.

Kanan turns at that point, medical supplies clutched in his hands, to stare at Hera.

"Something . . . else," he repeats warily. "What kind of something else?"

With her uninjured hand, Hera reaches into her pocket, and a second later, she pulls out the locator beacon that the Quarren had given to Fortuna.

"We probably shouldn't come back to Tatooine for a while."

After one more trip into the desert, maybe.

Kanan's mouth doesn't drop open. Much.

"I would be on board with that plan," he agrees, after another second of stunned silence.

"But even before that, let's get your hand bandaged. You're dripping."

First, Hera takes the beacon, and plugs it into her comm.

"Chop, I'm sending you new coordinates. We'll have to be fast."

It takes a few seconds for Chopper to send a very annoyed response. Hera just slides the comm off again, and holds out her bleeding hand to Kanan.

"I felt it in his robes when I rushed him." She takes a breath. "And I know I - already wasn't thinking clearly."

Kanan fumbles the bandages for a second, then cracks open the bacta packet and starts slathering it on. It helps not to have to look at Hera's face, right now.

"I don't know, it's not bad that we're going to be keeping whatever this is out of the hands of the Hutts."

"It's still stealing from the Hutts."

Hera sighs slightly as the bacta is spread over her hand, the pain already lessening.

"But you're right. And if we're going to be stealing..."

Well, after the Empire, the Hutts are pretty high on the list of those she'd want to steal from.