Runaways Chapter 14 One Forward, Two Back

Hux picked up the second of the rifles, handing it to Potdrum and ignoring the events of the last few seconds. The cat attacking Potdrum would almost certainly have soured the deal, but Ben revealing himself as a Force user could prove disastrous.

"As you can see, the discharge is still effective," Hux said, affecting an air of nonchalance as he gestured towards the perfectly perforated target. "The rest of the batch should be in as good condition."

"What's your name, boy?" Potdrum asked. He didn't look at Hux as he aimed and fired the rifle down the range.

"Ardeen," Hux said. "Zander Ardeen. And that's my cousin Ren outside."

They swapped out for the next rifle. "Your Ren seems…unusually talented."

Hux tensed. "These things happen around him," he said, knowing how lame it sounded.

Potdrum grunted. "As long as it's only moving things," he grunted. "I find he's been messing with my mind, I'll have a bounty on you that'll get everyone in the sector hunting you."

"I've never known him to use the mental arts," Hux said quickly. "But I'll pass it on. I'm sure honest trading will be more beneficial for both of us in the long run."

"I'm sure." They were silent as they finished test-firing the rifles. Eventually, Potdrum set down the eighth and last rifle. "These all seem to be in order. I think we have a deal," he declared. "Fifty truguts all in."

"Sixty," Hux corrected quickly. One hand shot out the grab the nearest rifle, while the other dropped to its blaster.

Potdrum chuckled. "Sixty it is." He turned to a small safe, and fiddled with the lock. He counted out the chips, and waited until Hux returned the rifle before handing over the chips.

Hux counted them. "Four truguts per peggat," he muttered to himself. "Five, ten, fifteen – can you possibly break up this last five-peggat chip into smaller denominations?"

Potdrum took the chip back, and swapped it for two one-peggat pieces, eight truguts, and sixteen wupiupis. Hutt currency favoured multiples of four, which made it a little difficult to get the exchange rate right, when one trugut equalled ten credits, making one wupiupi sixty-two and a half centicreds. But it was all in order.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Hux said cheerily, pocketing the money. "Those other jobs you might have?"

Potdrum flapped a hand. "You go get your lunch down at the cantina," he advised. "I'll be along later with a list for you."

"I look forward to doing more business with you in the future," Hux nodded, and stepped out of the range.

Ben was leaning against the wall next to the door, clutching the cat and looking nervous. Hux smiled.

"All sorted," he said. "Deal done, cash in hand, no foul on your part as long as you stay out of his mind."

Ben huffed out. "That's a relief."

Hux hummed, and took the cat. "Who's a good little puss-puss?" he murmured, stroking her head. "She been good for you?"

"She took a moment to calm down after the rifle blasts, but yeah, she's been fine," Ben shrugged. "So can we keep her?"

Hux sighed. It would be a bit of extra hassle, but she was a cute little thing, and how hard could it be to look after a cat? "Alright, then. Can you run this down to the port master, and meet me back at the cantina?" He fished out one of the one-peggat pieces and passed it over.

"Sure." Ben flashed him a quick smile, scratched the cat's cheek, and took off. Hux followed at a more sedate pace, returning to the cantina.

He kept a firm hold on the cat as he approached the bar. The barman still seemed very wary of her as he came over. "Got some proper money?" he asked, sneering a little.

Hux fixed him with a grin he knew showed just a little too much teeth to be entirely benign. "I do indeed. What do you sell regarding food?"

"Lunch special today is stew," the barman announced. "That do you, or you want the whole menu?"

"Stew will do just fine," Hux decided. Didn't sound terribly appealing to him, but any food is fuel. "What non-alcoholic drinks do you have?"

"Non-alcoholic?" the barman scoffed. "Too much of a wimp to hold your liquor?"

Hux raised an eyebrow imperiously. "Oh, I'll have a double of your finest whiskey," he announced. "But you can hardly expect my young cousin to be on the hard stuff already."

Well, you could. By the time Hux was Ben's age he'd been drinking and using hardcore drugs for years, but that's the Academy for you. Hux had met enough civilian children at his ballet classes to know this was unusual.

The barman huffed. "There's cherry soda, or milk."

"A soda, and some milk in a dish for the kitty then," Hux told him. "How much would that be in total?"

"Two stews, a double of whiskey, one soda and a dish of milk," the barman muttered. "Fifteen wupiupi." He started pouring the drinks.

Hux fished in his pocket, and pulled out a trugut. "Keep the change." The barman froze, squinting at Hux suspiciously. Hux put on a fake angelic look. "For your information earlier."

The barman let up his hostility a little. "You sure know how things work around here."

Hux shrugged. "We might want to do repeat business around here." He took the whiskey and soda, and gestured towards one of the unoccupied tables. "I'll be over there when the stew's ready."

He swaggered over to his chosen table, dropped the cat on the table and started on his whiskey. It was very good. Nice burn.

Ben popped through the door and glanced around, but evidently didn't see him. Before Hux could gesture him over, the barman called out. "Hey, kid?"

Ben bounced up to the bar and smiled. "My cousin here?"

The barman grunted. "What's your name, boy?"

Ben tensed, just a little. "Ren."

The cantina door opened again, and Potdrum came in.

"Ren who?" the barman insisted.

Ben froze, for just a little too long. "Antilles," he decided at last.

Hux stared at him. Oh, dear.