notallofus | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

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 –

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

He musters up a smile, even as he starts winding the bandage over her newly-bacta-covered palm.

"At least we can take comfort in the fact the Imperials are probably going to take us out first?"

(It's not a comfort at all. But it is what it is.)

"That's one way to look at it."

The ship shudders around them, and Hera moves to get to her feet, even as Kanan's still binding her hand. "I should get up there."

"Yeah," Kanan agrees, tying off the wrapping and falling into step right behind her.

"Mind some company?"

He's got a few questions he wants to ask, and . . . there's also not much else for him to do until they actually reach the site the tracker indicates.

"You are coming with me," she calls back to him, as she heads for the ladder. "I'm not facing Chopper alone."

The more targets the better.

"You're already wounded, I'll take whatever shock prodding we've got coming."

What? He's got to do something, doesn't he?

"I don't think it'll come to that."

... she hopes.

But she doesn't waste any more time, leading the way up through the Ghost. The ship shudders and shifts around them, but she keeps her footing as they head through the galley, past the cabins, and up again, until they climb into the cockpit.

"Okay, Chop, I'll take it from here."

Chop unplugs from the Ghost immediately. All the better he can follow her to the pilot's chair and blat fitfully at her.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. Look if this works out we can make it up to you."

"Blaster practice," Kanan cuts in. "For a half hour. Now be quiet."

He's keeping a wary eye on Hera, for now, because what went down on the planet was . . . a mess, and they're not quite out of it yet.

"No, I need you to go prep the magnetic locks for whatever this is."

She winces, slightly, as she takes the ship into a sharp turn, and for the first time Chopper notices her bandages. Which only makes him round on Kanan, blatting accusations that he didn't treat her properly, before Hera calls to him again -

"Chop please, I need you to do this now!"

Chopper's answer is a rush of aggravated beeps, but he rolls past Kanan, and heads out of the cockpit.

Edited 2019-01-06 20:00 (UTC)

Kanan's quiet for a few moments after Chopper departs, maybe rubbing stealthily at his shin where he swears he can feel the shock prod that didn't happen.

Then --

"So. Uh."

He knows he'll probably be needed to do something in a minute or two, maybe even man the guns, but --

"What'd he say to you down there? I got the Huttese, but not . . . "

"What?" she says first, as though she didn't hear him. But after a few seconds her mind seems to catch up with his question.

"Oh, um." She checks the sensors, making sure they're not being followed. "Not very much, really. He called me 'derria riloka,' it's a thing Twi'leks from off-Ryloth say about the ones who grew up or live there. It means 'home' or 'cave sister' - sometimes it's said like that, like we're more primitive."

Hera taps the controls, running another scan to ensure they're weren't about to run into a TIE squadron. "And then I told him I wasn't his sister."

"Do they not . . . "

He stops, blinking.

"Wait, how'd he know you were from Ryloth? You hadn't even really said much yet, let alone . . . "

Maybe it's her accent? But . . . that seems . . .

"Probably my tattoos," she answers, not looking up from the controls. "The pattern's from my part of the world. That's why I chose it."

"It's pretty," Kanan says, and immediately refrains from facepalming.

That would only call attention to . . . everything, so.

"The pattern, not -- "

Stop, Kanan. Stop.

"I'm kind of glad you hit him now, though. Not just because we're going to be making a Hutt's life harder."

Hera finally relaxes her grip on the controls. They're en route to wherever this cargo must be located. There's not much for her to do at the moment but keep alert, and make sure they don't run into anything they'd rather avoid.

"I'd heard about him since I was a child," she says, more softly now. "It was - startling, to actually see him."

"Is he . . . "

Kanan trails off again, looking for the right concept. There's not much from the temple, but from what he's heard from people with children since . . .

"Is he like a scary story people tell children? To warn them of something to be careful of? Or -- "