Kanan Jarrus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
notallofus) wrote2018-12-26 10:54 pm
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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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.
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"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.)
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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."
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"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.
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The more targets the better.
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What? He's got to do something, doesn't he?
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... 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."
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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.
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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.
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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 . . . "
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"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."
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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 . . .
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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."
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"I'd heard about him since I was a child," she says, more softly now. "It was - startling, to actually see him."
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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 -- "
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She almost huffs out a laugh and she says it. "I also got the standard stories about lyleks and gutkurrs. But for my family and... for everyone with us, it was the worst thing anyone could do, selling out their own kind."
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"Shouldn't it be that way for everyone?"
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And then she answers, with a small shrug, "I'd rather not sell out anyone, Twi'lek or no."
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Anyway.
"It just seems like something a lot of different clan groups hold especially important. Within a species, I mean. Or a planet."
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"But for Twi'leks - plenty of us were sold out by others. And for others, the most important thing to do is survive."
Ryloth could bring that out, too, and to an extant, Hera couldn't really blame them. "But I don't think it's either, really, for Fortuna's clan."
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He falls silent for a second, looking out from the cockpit at the bulk of Tatooine gliding by beneath them.
"Or . . . to be as close to power as they can get?"
Maybe it's just money. But from the way Fortuna reveled in the other beings' fear of him, that seems . . . like it can't possibly be all of it.
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Having never seen the appeal of so much money or power, it's not easy for Hera to understand. "That clan's been running spice and slaves out of Lessu since the Hutts, but he's made the biggest name for himself recently."
After a beat, "Though he did have a cousin who used to work with us."
A light flashes along the controls, and she tightens her grip on the yoke. "We're approaching."
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"Do we need me on one of the guns?" he asks, already moving to stand.
"Or do I get to do the part with the digging?"
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She lets that trail off for a moment, before, "Doesn't look like there's anything nearby. And if it's not buried too deep, the magnetic locks might be enough to pull it out."
Hera doubts the Quarren put too much effort into this. "Want to check how Chopper's doing?"
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