NEED TO KNOW
by ardavenport
- - - Part 1
"In here."
Kanan Jarrus pushed his way through the foot traffic to the garishly flashing nightclub entrance. He was a big Humanoid male with a holstered blaster and armored right arm and shoulder. The other pedestrians and loiterers sneered and hissed but got out of his way. Hera, Ezra, Sabine and their two nervous charges followed close in his wake.
Pounding music assaulted them in the club's wide entryway. Kanan dropped a credit chit into one of the four hands of the matre d. It was too much, even for a bribe, but his generosity meant that they would not be slowed down.
He really had no idea where he was going, other than to some place with no stormtroopers in it. Yet . . . . . but now he had a feeling . . . .
The dance floor below the stage was crowded with bodies, the tables in the darkness that ringed the action were full with late night partiers. Passing by a well-lit and well-stocked bar, Kanan ignored the shiny multi-armed tender droid, shaking aromatic concoctions in metal cylinders; it's two yellow eye sensors only briefly tracked their group before turning toward more demanding customers.
Reaching the dance floor, Kanan seized Hera around the waist and spun her into the jostling bodies. Her lekku flying out behind her, she smoothly grabbed hold of him and evaded his heavy, booted feet.
The dancing was fairly free-form, accommodating the multi-species body-types gyrating under flashing, whirling colored lights. The air was a swill of the dancers' body odors, the accompanying artificial scents that failed to either enhance or cover them up with a layer of intoxicant aromas. Kanan got a glimpse of Ezra's silly grin as he spread his arms, welcoming Sabine to embrace him and Sabine's helmet tilting derisively before she pushed the shorter of their two charges at him. Sabine grasped Madame Doktor Fennestry's hands and followed Kanan and Hera, leaving Ezra and Mister Doktor Fennestry to fumble their way after them.
Kanan was tall enough to see over most of the heads, headgear and horns around them. No white stormtrooper armor. Yet.
Hera put her hand on his wrist where his hand had slid low over her curvy hips. "Well, this is one way for us to disappear into the crowd, Luv, but it's not getting us any closer to getting back to the Ghost."
"I'm working on it."
He glimpsed a frown in the shifting colors that turned her green skin tone from orange to blue to gray, but she did not follow up. She knew when he was just making things up. He knew when she knew when he was just making things up . . . . but it was not just him.
It was the Force. Even stronger now than on the street. There was a way out to safety. Very close, nearby.
He kept scanning, slowly changing their orientation so he could view the whole room. The bar, the tables, stairs up to a balcony. A server droid. A tall black outline of a moving head. Entryway and a burly bouncer with a barrel-bodied droid partner. Chittering. Grunting. Thump, thump, thump music driving the motion on the dance floor around them. Hera's flight suit and supple body moving underneath his hands . . . .
Kanan closed his eyes, banishing the distractions around him. And the one right in front of him, in his arms . . . .
. . . . . the feeling was still there. It was the Force. Something nearby . . . . he breathed, a long slow inhale, drawing it in. The room receded a little bit and when he opened his eyes again, everything looked just a little bit faded, the colors drained and less real. Except for one place.
On the stage.
"Got something, Luv?" Hera had noticed the change in his posture as he maneuvered them toward the band.
"A feeling." He spoke low, leaning close to her ear-cone so she could hear him over the music.
No frown this time. Hera had learned to trust his feelings. Ezra and Sabine had guided the Fennestrys in their direction. Sabine's Madalorian helmet fixed its featureless stare at them while Mister Doktor Fennestry's large, fearful eyes peered around Ezra's shoulder.
Fortunately, the dance music wound up to a finish and even before the last notes, Kanan released Hera and dodged through a glittery fringe curtain and past an inattentive stage hand. He swiftly ascended the stairs and slid onto the bench next to the keyboard player at one end of the stage.
Blue-green eyes, highlighted by black and dark orange facial paint, peered at him fearfully. The lead musician at center stage frowned in their direction and loudly struck the chords of the next song. The keyboardist's long, knobby orange fingers joined in, but her eyes stayed on Kanan.
The de-amplification on the stage kept the sound level down so the musicians could hear their own instruments and voices plus those of their bandmates. The keyboardist effortlessly kept up with the music, as if her hands had their own purpose independent of the obvious nervousness of the musician. She was hairless and slender with knobby limbs. glittering gold fabric draped over one shoulder and matching bands adorned her three stubby lekku on the back of her head.
"We need help." Kanan kept his eyes forward toward the rest of the band, now strumming and wailing through the first chorus of the song. He nodded his head with the beat, as if he was just part of the audience, enjoying a privileged view of the performance. "We need to get back to our ship, get away from the Empire."
She finished the energetic chorus and her fingers spread out, pounding out only a few accompanying chords for the verse.
"I don't know you." She finally said softly.
"I know you," Kanan immediately responded, his tone low and intense. "At least, I know you can help us." The affinity he felt in the Force toward her was something old, remembered from his past, back at the Jedi Temple, before the Order was purged by the Emperor. It was light and familiar, like kinship and reminded him of how much he had lost.
Her eyes flicked down and up and she licked her dark orange-painted lips.
"You said you had a ship?"
"Yes."
"Your own ship?"
"Yes."
She nodded and then pounded a sudden burst, joining her bandmates in a musical interlude in the song. Kanan briefly leaned back, to avoid getting in the way of her hands and the high notes on his side of the keyboard. She spoke again when she resumed the minimal chords on the next verse.
"The owner of the club has a secret way back to the spaceport. In case this place is raided for contraband for his more valued customers. He pays bribes, but sometime they don't work if the Imperials are trying to impress their superiors."
"Can you take us?"
"I can. But the owner will know. And he would come after me for using it. I will have to leave with you." She lowered her head, her fingers dancing on the keys in time with the two percussionists, one at the back of the stage surrounded by an array of drums and instruments, the second one pranced about waving clangers and thumpers behind the lead singer with the other back-up musicians.
"We can't stop anywhere."
Her lips quirked in a mirthless smile. "I don't need to." Her hands suddenly pulled away from her keyboard, the music from it stopping. "We should go now."
Surprised that they did not wait for the end of the song, Kanan slid off the bench, letting her out. He glimpsed a few angry glares from the rest of the band who had to cover for the sudden loss. Hera and the others met them, the Fennestry's nervously looking toward the crowded dance floor beyond the curtains.
There were no explanations or introductions, they just formed a line behind the keyboardist, winding their way into the dark, past cases and equipment, two attendant droids who ignored them and a burly stage hand asleep and snoring in a chair that looked nearly ready to collapse from her weight. Passing through light and shadow under a line of glaring ceiling lights in a back corridor, they followed her down a dingy stairwell, two levels down. It smelled like salty, stale foodstuff and intoxicants. At the end of a short corridor, under a flickering light, she touched a control pad next to a gray metalloid door.
"We will all have to get in. We can only use this once."
They squeezed into the tiny lift. Mister Doktor Fennestry let out a squeak, squished between his wife and Ezra. His wide, pale yellow hands flew up to cover his mouth, her eyes darting to either side as if Imperial spy-bots were listening. They exited the lift a couple levels down. The keyboardist looked both ways down the narrow corridor, dimly lit by few illuminators, the air stale with disuse and poor ventilation but still fresher than backstage.
"We should hurry."
She set the pace at a near run, Kanan, Ezra, Hera and Sabine easily kept up with her, while their nervous charges' short legs had to work hard. But neither Fennestry complained or asked for a break. They had vowed to the Ghost crew that they would follow any direction, do whatever was necessary to escape being forced to join the Imperial war industries.
Kanan was glad when their guide did stop. Breathing hard, their short arms clutched to the stout bodies, the Fennestrys looked like they were ready to collapse and he was preparing himself to carry either one or possibly both if he had to.
They climbed a ladder up into a tube set in the ceiling and then into a corridor that was not meant for taller humanoids. Kanan had to bend low over the metal grated ceiling that was less than a hand-width over Hera's head.
"There is more than one exit, but I do not know which would be closest to your ship," the keyboardist whispered.
"We're in Docking bay Thirty-Seven," Hera told her, but the musician shook her head.
"I do not know the spaceport well." She pointed. "There is an exit that way." They followed her lead again. Up ladders and stairs; she warned them against taking any lifts. Ezra caught up with Kanan on the way while Hera went with their guide to see where they were.
"Hey, Kanan, how do you know her? Did you know she was here? How come you didn't tell us?"
He shook his head and answered the first question. "I don't know her. We just met."
"What?" Sabine's helmet snapped in his direction.
"What?" Ezra repeated. "You just met? But how did you know?"
"I just had a feeling, Ezra," he stated, a little impatient with his new apprentice's lack of insight.
Ezra unhappily glared back before his blue eyes suddenly widened. "Wait, you mean you had a Jedi feeling?" His head snapped in the direction of where their savior had gone. "Is she a Jedi?"
"No," he immediately answered. He was sure of that. "But . . . . she's a friend."
"Hunh? How do you know?"
Kanan's curt answer was interrupted by the return of the keyboardist and Hera. "We have to go back down. Din - - this is Din, by the way - -" Hera made the introduction " - - thinks it's another exit further down that's a lot closer to the Ghost." They went. Down the ladders and stairs.
"Are you a Jedi?" Ezra demanded before they were halfway down."
"Ezra!" Kanan warned while still keeping his voice low.
Din stopped, "You should not ask something like that. Not out loud." Her blue-green eyes were wide and fearful, the face-paint around them making them look even larger. "It's not safe," she finished in a loud whisper before heading downstairs again.
Ezra looked very unhappy with the admonishment, but he clamped his mouth shut. They silently went down to the lower level, following Din to the exit that they hoped would take them back to the ship.
It did.
Hiding in the shadows of an alcove and a leafy, dark blue bush, they could see a side of their docking bay around a corner. And only a few cleaning droids hummed by the walls. But even though the area looked deserted, Kanan cautiously went to the ship first and then signaled the others to follow after he confirmed that there was no Imperial ambush waiting for them.
"Aahhh." Din paused to look up and around at the Ghost's brightly lit hold while the Fennestrys eagerly hurried past and veered in a wide circle around Zeb, their very large, fierce-looking Lasat crew mate. The Fennestrys squeaked when he sneered at them as they followed Hera up the ladder to the upper decks.
"Chopper! Start her up!" Hera shouted to the ship's astromech on her way to the cockpit. Immediately the deck plates vibrated with power. Kanan touched Din's shoulder and she jumped, then hunched her bony shoulders guiltily.
"Zeb, Sabine, take our guests to the common room. We're leaving," he instructed.
Sabine took off her Mandalorian helmet, revealing her short purple and pink hair, smiled at the nervous Din and went with her to the ladder.
"Hmm," Zeb commented. "Thought there was only supposed to be two of 'em. Hey!" He looked upward to the gallery where the Fennestrys clutched the railing. "Follow them." He pointed before following Kanan and Ezra up.
"Forward gun, Ezra," Kanan instructed. Hera didn't need them in the cockpit and he was not convinced that they would be clear until they made it to hyperspace. He climbed the ladder up to the top gunner position. Adjusting the seat forward (Zeb had been in it last), he grasped the controls in his gloved hands as the Ghost lifted off.
"All right, we're cleared to go." Hera's voice spoke over the com. "So, I'm just going take it nice and easy. We're just another freighter going about our business."
Kanan relaxed his shoulders, closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Hera was right, of course. No reason to attract attention no matter how badly he wanted to be away from this Imperial world. Patience, patience, patience . . . .
"Just sit tight, kid."
"Hunh?" Ezra's voice answered over the com "How did you know . . . ?"
Kanan smiled to himself. He didn't know what Ezra was doing, but his apprentice's nervousness was like a beacon in the Force. But was it about their mission? Or was it about Din?
Hera briefly established a parking orbit before heading away from the planet. Right past two Imperial light cruisers on patrol, the Ghost's false signature of no interest to them. The jump to the safety of hyperspace was anticlimactic. Kanan climbed back down the ladder.
Hera met them in the common room where the Fennestrys were happily thanking Din for her help. And then Sabine for smuggling them away from the Empire. Hera hung back in the doorway and eyed Kanan. He moved toward her and they stepped back into the corridor.
"So, you want to tell me something about our friend here?" she asked in a low voice.
"I'm just about to ask about that myself." He laid his hand on her narrow shoulder; she touched it and sighed, accepting whatever mystery had saved them. He stepped back into the common room.
- - - END Part 2