Ora's ship, the Sato, pulls into orbit around a verdant world, which she tells me is called Bimmisaari. I've been up in space before, to travel from Zagerria to Kadavo, but I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. The round, perfect sphere of the planet seems so unreal, as do the ships coming and going from it. They all appear so little, like plastic toys, but I know they must be huge.
"We are not so far from the Corporate Sector that we can be careless with your appearance, Zajac" Ora muses, her fine, clawed fingers tapping in landing coordinates.
Swallowing, I huddle in a nearby bucket seat, looking out the view screen. "What should I do?"
A ripple of tension flows along her fur as she thinks, her eyes narrowing. "Your coloration is unusual for a Zygerrian; you are very dark. If we could color your skin and hair, it would help to keep the attention of informants away from you." She turns to me, smiling a little as if trying to comfort me even as she says "Even in these dark times, the Zygerrian Slaver's Guild has deep pockets and an expansive reach in this part of the galaxy. We must be cautious."
Nibbling my lip, I look down at all the ships coming and going from the green and gold ball below. "Then why did we come here?"
Her teeth flash as she grins, and she lifts up from her seat. "Because they are not the only ones with deep pockets holding sway over this quadrant. We are also in Hutt space... and in Imperial space."
My ears fold back flat against my head and my eyes widen, and as I watch her walk back towards the center of the ship I hop out of my seat. "This is crazy! This is the worst place to be!"
"Is it?" she calls back down the corridor, and I grit my teeth with irritation as I jog after her. While we might be the same height at 1.5 meters (I'm small, okay?), her pace is far quicker than mine.
I finally catch up to her in the med bay, my healing, cast-covered wrist hugged up close to my chest as my other hand braces on the doorway. "Yeah! It's nuts!"
21B wheels over and guides me into a shower-like stall, and a privacy screen lifts up.
"Hey... what... what's this thing DOING JEEZ HEY WATCH IT!" My clothing is being snipped off with sheers, leaving me naked behind the screen, and some kind of gas that's very cold is being blasted against my bare skin... everywhere. And when I say everywhere, I mean it. "ORA!"
The Bothan only stands idly by as 21B begins to lather up my hair and the fur on my ears, and I snarl and try to shove it away when I feel that weird invisible something pressing against me, this time around me, like an invisible rope. I can't wriggle out of it no matter hard I try.
"You must control your anger, Zajac" Ora intones again. I'm really getting sick of her saying that.
I'm furious – how dare this droidic trash touch ME?! Doesn't it know what I am?! I'm a Zygerrian! I'm not some stupid Torguta slave! My teeth snap at the droid, who buzzes something rude to me in binary before apologizing to Ora for his foul language in Basic.
In a few moments it becomes pretty obvious that I can't get out of this, so I just quietly seethe, my teeth grit in a snarl and my amber eyes narrowed. I'm not glaring at Ora, but I'm staring daggers at a wall panel. The skin and follicle dyes are all allowed to set, and last but not least, my left ear is taken up and curled back, to reveal the light pink skin tattooed with my ZSG identification number. A laser traces the glyphs, and I wince as it starts to sting as the dyes are dissolved. In a few minutes that's done, and I breathe a sigh of relief as 21B wipes down the clear, unmarked skin with a gel pad.
"There, this is suitable" Ora muses, gesturing for 21B to finally leave me alone. The invisible ropes disappear, and I hug my arms around myself behind the screen, though the arms I hug with and the body I hug are now as white as a storm trooper's armor plate. Even my nails have lost their coloration and are glossy and cream colored. I look around at myself, and then tug an ear down, and a lock of hair. White as well. My lips press together in distress and my nose wrinkles as I look over at the Bothan, but she only seems amused. "Stay there, Zajac. I will fetch you some proper clothing."
Right... I'm still naked.
Once she's out of the med bay, I climb over the screen, pouting in thought before I slip to the floor. It occurs to me to check something, and when I look down at my right hand I notice the cast is gone. I flex my fingers but there isn't any pain. Still, better be careful with it for a little bit. And whatever you do, don't think about that stupid... nope, almost thought about it. Um, um, um... Gi Ball Soup. Man, I could go for some right now. Is there any food in here? A replicator? Water? When was the last time I've eaten?
As I'm sniffing around and poking and prodding at things, a robe is wrapped around me from behind. For half a moment I startle, but the warm material keeps me from lashing out, and soon enough I breathe and stand still, letting Ora hand over the rest of my clothing. She just smiles at me and leaves the room again to afford me some privacy as I dress, and I do so as quickly as I can.
A white and gray ensemble is what was handed over. The robe is the color of ash, and the leggings and tunic I pull on are as light as my skin. My hands run over it to smooth it all down, and I can feel how soft it is. I'm pretty typical of my species in that I love the feel of fine fabrics, but my family was never rich enough to afford anything better than scratchy materials. I've never worn anything this nice before.
Boots in a matching gray to the cloak have been included, and I tug them on, finding that luckily they fit well enough. As I strap them to my calves, I notice slots on the inside for daggers. There are other hidden compartments too. I narrow my eyes and pat down my leggings, and find that similar hidden pockets line the garment around the hips. Are these smuggler's clothes? Or do other species just have a lot of things to carry? I'll have to ask Ora.
Once I tug a brush through my now white hair I'm all ready to go, and I head back out to the bridge. She's back there, dressed similarly to me, and she gestures for me to have a seat. "Good. You will still stand out, but you would have regardless. Down there we will encounter the Bimm, a species that look like Bothans but are even shorter, if you can believe it."
I smile a little as I pull on the harness for landing. "Are we going to be safe down there, Ora?"
"No, Zajac" she says casually, flipping a few switches as the Sato begins to orient its nose toward the planet and descend. "In these times, there is no safety anywhere. There is only less danger."
My hands grip at the arm rests as we plummet smoothly towards the surface. Like I said, I've never actually witnessed landing before, so as Ora is calmly responding to ground security and offering her identification and clearance (which is probably fabricated and purchased), I'm gritting my teeth and digging my nails into the seat's padding.
The Bothan glances at me and I glance at her, and seeing how calm she is I close my eyes and try to settle down. Beneath me the ship rattles and hums, the atmospheric dampers taking the majority of the chop but not all of it. Once the rattling stops and I feel the ship's gravity melt away to let the planet's gravity take over, I breathe out, shakily uncurling my fingers.
Ora, of course, seems perfectly at ease, resting her head back against her seat, her large eyes gazing out at the landscape that sweeps beneath us. The canopy of forests speeds by in a blur of green, and the golden, fur-like edge of a savannah lines the horizon. Little spires lift up from the trees now and again, and as we begin to slow down I can see that these are buildings – towers and high points of settlements and cities.
The Sato gracefully merges into a landing air path, and we touch down gently on a large airfield that's sizzling with activity. Freighters, smaller air craft, luxury liners, and personal vessels are all docked here, and crates, droids, and loading personnel are all over the place. Both of us unbuckle our landing harnesses and head down to the cargo bay. The hollowed out droid I'd been smuggled in suddenly comes to life, wheeling around. Only then do I notice Ora's hand moving, resting by her hip within her cloak, her fingers shifting just subtly.
She is moving it. That's how she got me out from the slavers.
The droid makes no noise, but generally people don't care enough about droids to realize that this would be strange. I hang back behind Ora and the red, hollow droid beside her as the ramp lowers and dusty sunlight pours in. Within moments a uniformed human walks up with a clip board, and a creature that looks like Ora, but is shorter and completely covered in a short pelt of ginger fur, accompanies him. That must be one of the Bimm she was talking about.
"Do you have any items to declare?" the human asks in Basic, sounding bored. The Bimm speaks directly afterward, its voice musical, but even so I can guess it's asking a question, and probably the same one. A translator. That's thoughtful of them.
Ora smiles and glances around at the hold, which is half full of secured items. "One or two. Fabrics. Velvet, Travella cloth, Killik silk, among others. Nothing contraband, I assure you."
"May we scan a random selection of crates?" the bored human asks, and the Bimm repeats in an equal measure of conviviality.
"Of course you may. Do let me know when you're finished." Ora guides me to stand by the wall along with her and her empty droid, and we watch as the human takes out a handheld device and scans some of the items in storage. The Bimm follows along, recording what the human recites to it, and after a few minutes the pair return. "Everything looks to be in order; thank you for your patience. May your dealings be lucrative." And with that, they leave.
Waiting until the two of them are well enough gone, I murmur "Is it really fabric in there?"
"Oh yes, of course" she says with a smile. "In those crates."
I smile a little bit, and we see to arranging accommodations in the city, unimaginatively called "The Capital". As we walk into the city, I find that it's more or less a giant sea of markets with various buildings rising up out of it. It's loud and bright and raucous, and even though there are a few lone Imperial personnel keeping an eye on things, it's very easy to just walk past them. Besides the regular humans, there are ones that are shorter and look far more cheerful, with curly hair and beards (at least on the men). Ora tells me these types of humans are called Bimm as well. I don't get it, but I guess the cheerful humans and the furry Bimms live together as one culture. How nice.
Being what I am, I notice that everything is for sale, inanimate and alive. I catch sight of an auction that looks familiar, and Zygerrian slavers are busy hocking their latest wares. The audience only seems mildly interested, as if the very existence of slavery is strange, but here and there you see people being led in chains. Somehow it both comforts me and angers me, and Ora rests a hand on my back to urge me along.
Among all of this is a giant tower, called the Tower of Law. It's where the planetary government of Bimmisaari is located, and while the rest of the place looks laid-back and cheerful, this structure is imposing. The way the sun is set in the sky, a long shadow has been cast over the market to my right, like the whole place is a sundial. I wouldn't even be surprised if the locals actually use it as a clock. I'm not seeing a whole lot of tech around, but maybe they all just prefer a more traditional appearance.
No such luck. When Ora finds a suitable hotel, our quarters are a definite downgrade from her ship. The doors are portals that swing open on metal hinges and lock with bolts, and everything appears to be old fashion. Even the plumbing. Maybe noting my distress, or merely thinking aloud, Ora muses "We won't be staying here for long. I like to engage in business in a neutral location, and I like to conclude my dealings quickly."
"What did you bring here?" I ask quietly, standing near to her in case the rooms are bugged. Look, I'm paranoid, alright?
She just smiles at me again and I sigh as I come to a realization. "Maybe it's better for me not to know?" I get a light pat on my shoulder, and I'm sent away to unpack our belongings for the night. Shortly after we arrive Ora orders some food to be delivered, and I only realize how little I've eaten when the delicious smell of roasted meat and rice wafts in from the sitting room. I'm allowed a break as I'm handed my delivery tray and a container of cold juice, and I eat my meal as quickly as propriety allows. I'm starving, but I'm still Zygerrian. We aren't savages.
After that I bathe my fingers and face, and then I fight through the sleepy malaise of digestion as I hang up the rest of our things. There isn't much – clearly Ora doesn't intend to stay here long. That night while I'm sleeping on a mat in the bedroom, I hear a quiet conversation in the sitting room. I don't dare go in, but I do listen, and I hear at least two voices that aren't the Bothan's. The clink of physical credits can be heard, then the two depart and Ora locks the main door again.
Her bare feet pad over the wooden floor and she crouches low to press a hand to my shoulder. "It is time to leave. Pack our things quietly" she whispers, and I nod and get up to start doing that.
We leave the hotel by a back stairwell, and we slip out through the nighttime markets. I'm cautioned not to turn back, but I do when I suddenly hear commotion by the hotel we'd just left. We're halfway across the bazaar when a bright light blazes from the windows of the rooms we'd been in, and there's an even greater commotion.
"Ora?" I ask, but I'm being guided along to walk at the same speed as everyone else.
"A little item I picked up in my travels. It assures no traces of DNA remain on particles of skin, fur, or hair left behind in a room."
"Aren't sterilizers dangerous?" I whisper, tugging my hood over my head.
"Only if you insist on holding it next to your face, I suppose." She smirks, and whispers "Lesson one – do not hold a sterilizer close to your face."
"Thanks. I feel enlightened." I murmur sarcastically.
When we make it back to the Sato, I can see that the cargo hold is completely empty. Ora doesn't seem bothered by it. "Were we robbed?" I ask in an angry hiss, my white fur standing on end, ears back.
"I doubt it. Those I met with arranged for the unloading of my goods. The crates, both kinds, will be stored in appropriate locations and distributed as required. My task is done, so we don't need to stay in the Capital any longer."
The ramp to the cargo bay closes and we make our way to the cockpit, and only then do I notice that the view looks different. I frown at Ora, who is busy entering in coordinates. "Have... we moved?"
"Yes. My friends towed us to a different part of the landing field, and were kind enough to politely restructure the landing logs."
I blink, feeling the ship quietly come to life. "Who are your friends?"
"You met them this afternoon."
Another blink. "Wait, the duty officers?" Ora only smiles at me as we lift into the air, and I buckle myself in as I consider just how many connections this Bothan has.
The nighttime forests look eerie, and while there's a wind passing over the canopy, a lot of the trees aren't moving like they should. It's like the limbs are moving on their own. Maybe I'm hallucinating – maybe the spices in my lunch aren't very good for my system. Ora herself doesn't seem troubled, so I try not to worry about it. If anyone knows her way around this place, it's her.
Unlike interstellar travel, travel in atmosphere takes forever. You can't zip into hyperspace for distances like this, so while Ora takes us away from the Capital, she sends me back to my cabin to sleep. It's hard to believe that all of this has been one day, but as I lie on my cot and my head hits the pillow, I'm out like a light.