The back rooms of a business were always fascinating to me. They were a little microcosm of the real culture of a workplace and not just what was presented to the public. The Golden Oasis, the little casino that Gardulla ran, was all about dichotomy; it wanted people to feel at home while also wanting to take all of their money, it fancied itself as a reputable business while Gardulla made drug deals upstairs, and it wanted the patrons to feel like they had a close and personal relationship with the employees while the employees hated basically everyone that walked through the door.
Which, honestly, wasn't significantly different from every major corporation I worked for in my last life.
It is in people's nature to hid their true selves from the world, so I could understand why it functioned that way. Tatooine was a rough place to live and the people that came here generally didn't do so because their lives were happy. They wanted a respite from reality and the hope of striking it big, and they'd pay a fortune for it.
Though hope came in different flavors.
The people of Tatooine had the hope of striking it rich, the hope of getting a little something extra from the "dancers", or even just the hope of being able to feed credits into a machine and pulling a lever so you had something to do instead of going home for the night.
The slot machines weren't very popular in the Galaxy, but they were all the craze on Tatooine. They rarely payed out but they took just a little bit of money and could be used for hours. Something about this gambling appealed to the downtrodden of Tatooine, as the machines were always crowded by scruffy looking people that had all the energy of a funeral procession, mechanically shoving their earnings into the machine.
It made Gardulla more money than everything else the casino had combined.
So, in the continuing spirit of contrarianism of the casino, the room that maintained the machines was the smallest, dirtiest, and most cluttered room in the whole casino.
"You just gonna sit around?" Murrish groused with the voice of a tar pit.
Murrish was an old Duros whose skin was blue between all the dark spots his age brought him. The slave had belonged to Gardulla for decades and he was the one responsible for keeping Gardulla's various machines running, her slot machines most imporantly. The things had more trouble running that a sand dealer on Tatooine and he was very vocal about this fact with anyone within earshot.
"If you can tell me what to do, I'll do it." I said, trying to sound upbeat.
"I want you to fix that machine." Murrish said, waving his hand towards a machine near the door.
I took a calming breath.
"Yes, I would be happy to do that. If you would please tell me how it is that I can clean it, I will take care of it right away for you."
The man through his hands up in the air, "If I have to explain it I might as well do it myself." He growled out. "I've got five more of these to fix up before the rush in two hours. I can't be holding your hand."
"Okay, but if you explained it to me a few times, I'd be able to help you all the other-" I tried.
He threw his hands up in the air, "And have Gardulla have me lashed for not having them ready on time? I don't think so. And your brother didn't need the help."
I glanced over at Anakin who was shoulder deep into one of the machines and cleaning its circuitry with a sonic cleaner while steadily muttering under his breath about how much he hated sand and how it messed things up.
"I know I just figured-"
"Deska." The man growled, "You're in a tough spot. I get that, but I can't help you. I'm just trying to stay ahead and I don't have time for this. Even if you could do the job Gardulla probably won't be okay with three slaves doing the work that she thinks one healthy one could do."
I winced. It was fair. I could see how the older man moved stiffly and would grunt with any movement. Murrish was close to being worked to death and me being thrown on top of things would just serve to hurt the man more.
"Try in the kitchens or something. I don't need you in here. Get out before you have me wasting even more of my time."
I wanted to be mad at his harsh words, but I found I couldn't muster the vitriol necessary. It was hard to hate a man that you knew was months from death.
"Fine. Take care of Anakin." I said as I walked towards the door.
"The brat is fine." He said as he turned away to a machine.
I left the the room and briefly considered my options. I badly needed to find something I could use to have Gardulla see value in me, but on the other hand, ignoring my problems and going and finding some animals outside to play with did sound much more fun.
I shifted back and forth on me feet for while, debating on what to do, before finally heaving a sigh and walking towards the kitchens. Stupid adult memories making me want to be responsible.
The Golden Oasis Casino had lots of activity in it, but only one dedicated cook, Chef. The guy probably had an actual proper name, but everyone around her just called him Chef and he got pissy if you didn't call him that while he was in the kitchen, which was most of the time. He was an Ortolan, a race of people that looked like small blue anthropomorphic elephants. The guy wasn't grumpy or anything, he just came across as intense most of the time.
Chef was always the first person to get up in the morning and the last person to go to bed, just taking a few hours off in the middle of the day to make up for all the other time. He was the end all be all voice of the kitchen, and he grabbed people from other jobs as needs must. He surprisingly wasn't a slave, but he was here often enough that it made little difference.
I think Gardulla had some sort of blackmail over him.
"I don't need you playing in here! Lunch rush is in full swing!" Chef yelled as he moved a pan over a burner with his trunk while also dipping a finger into a pot of some simmering broth. Chef's voice was an odd thing, it couldn't seem to decide if it was a rumble or a squeak.
"I'm here to help." I said with a shrug of my shoulders.
"I don't have time right now to-" Chef started before another voice cut in.
"Oh come on Chef. Let her help. She can at least stir the pot while you do everything else."
I perked up at the voice. Turning to confirm that it was in fact my mother. Shmi was one of Chef's favorite helpers; she kept herself clean and almost never talked back. Most anyone else would get told off for even a perceived order from a slave in "his" kitchen.
"Fine. Get her a stool so she can stir. If the bar fills up and needs the stool though, she's out of the kitchen.
My mother's face widened into a smile more beautiful than the desert's night sky. It made the elephant man give an uncomfortable nod of his head.
"Thankyou Chef. I'll handle tonight's clean up too." Shmi offered.
The Ortolan suddenly relaxed. It was an exchange now, not an exception on his part. More familiar ground.
"Alright Shmi. Get the kid in position." He said as he turned back to his work in dismissal.
In moments Mom was placing the stool over by stove, and in a dull whisper asked, "No luck with Murrish?"
I shook my head. "He keeps on just expecting me to get it without him even teaching."
Shmi gave a sigh but nodded her head. "I'll see if I can teach a little tonight, after we work on your reading. We can even work on your Aurebesh while you're in here with me."
I refrained from rolling my eyes. Aurebesh was the alphabet of Basic. It was mostly fine, but all the letters were needlessly complicated and had more in common with kanji than the alphabet of my other life. It would be a needed skill, but it took a frustrating amount of time to read still.
In moments though, I was on the stool and stirring the pot.
What followed were some of the most frustrating hours of my life. I was just meant to sit there and stir while not doing anything else. There were a few things I could help out with, but every time I went to go do them, someone else came by and took over before I could really help. It's not that anything against me, it was the fact that I was five and with that came some things taking a longer time. Time they didn't have in the busy kitchen.
Eventually, I gave up and just stirred the pot and began to people watch out through the open gap that lead into the gambling hall. People watching was always a favorite pastime of mine and it became even more interesting when it was people with extra appendages and even different body languages.
I watched as a pair of yellow Zabrak women lost several hands at one of the tables whenever a particular man with very tight pants would walk by the table, I noticed as Togruta perked up every time a particular waitress walked past, where he'd open his mouth to say something, stall, then slump in defeat after she passed. I noticed a small group of men drinking far too much booze for the middle of the day while they traded jokes told stories with hand motions so vivid I was fairly sure they were talking about a ship running into an asteroid belt.
I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to listen to the men. The story seemed interesting. I couldn't quite hear them, but I as positive they were smugglers fresh back from a delivery of some sort to the Hutts. They'd run into some trouble and-
"Hey! If you aren't going to stir the pot then you have no business being in here." Chef trumpeted.
I jolt and stammer out an apology, redoubling my efforts in stirring the pot. I didn't have time to let my imagination get the best of me. That might have been the force, that might have been my imagination, either way, the men didn't really matter. I had my own problems at the moment.
"Hey, Chef! Two burning nebulas and a Coruscant beach." A voice piped up. "And if you wanna spill a little extra in a cup for me I'll sing your praises."
"When are you going to learn I don't give freebies Em?" Chef said without turning around, his voice with more vibrato in it, something I'd come to learn meant he was upset.
I turned to see the target of his ire. Em was a Twi'lek with vibrant pink skin, the color pink you'd see on a eight year old girl's journal. Her skin was much like her, loud, vibrant, and very difficult to ignore. The thin strips of leather that made up her outfit contributed to things too.
"Aw, come on Chef. I'm dancing my heart out for these guys, I'm dying of thirst here." She complained, before getting a smirk. "What if I give you a private show after work? I think that's worth-"
"Em!" Mom cut in, with an affronted look. She gestured vaguely towards me.
I rolled my eyes at her protectiveness. We shared a room with several of the dancers that often did "private dances" for customers with the cash. Then they went back and gossiped. One would have to be particularly thick skulled to live there and not know numerous lurid details. Mom tried to keep the two of us away from such things but again, we all shared one room. Secrets were near impossible to keep.
"Hey Em!" I called from my spot by the stove.
"Critter!" Em chirped her nickname for me. "Didn't see you there. What's a free spirit like you doing in this oppressive dictatorship?"
Chef gave a small huff of air through his trunk.
"Gardulla said I need to be useful." I said, avoid the rest. I didn't need to say more anyways, Em clearly understood.
"Ah. Poormouthing again and talking about selling people again?" Em asked.
"Again?" Shmi spoke up from her place to the side, chopping up vegetables. "She does that often?"
"Oh yeah." Em said as she threw one of her lekku, the tentacles on her head, over her shoulder. "Anytime she gets into some debt she starts talking about selling people off to cover it. This is probably cause of the winning streaks."
"Winning streaks?" I asked.
"Yeah, nothing serious. Just someone winning big every few weeks at some of the poker tables. Gardulla was pissed and had them look into the people winning. No connection between them or anything, so the winnings seem legit. I guess the house just doesn't win sometimes." Em said with a shrug.
I frowned. That didn't sound right. I had to agree with Gardulla. Big wins consistently? Sounded fishy.
"Here are the drinks. Now get out of here, you're perfume is gonna contaminate the food." Chef groused as she slid some vibrant looking liquors onto the counter with three glasses.
"Only three? Aw, you didn't want my-"
"Please go Em." Mom said with a sigh.
I watched the Twi'lek go for a moment before turning my gaze back to the room again.
Someone here was cheating. I knew it. I could feel it. I could do this. If I was able to find the cheater that would be something that Gardulla could use. Even if it was a one off thing it would have her keep me around for just a little longer. It would work.
I closed my eyes and tried to see if I felt anything. The Force was supposed to be good for this kind of thing and I was strong in the force. Hell, the Force was my daddy. I let out a slow breath and tried to see if I could get some sort of feeling. I breathed out and felt a cold wind on my neck in the hot kitchen, it gave me a vague shiver down my back. I felt something, I wasn't sure what it was but-
"Hey! You're letting the shit burn!" Chef yelled, dragging my mind back to the present. I had apparently stopped stirring the pot.
"Oh, I'm sorry I'll-"
"No! You're done! Out! Out!" Chef yelled angrily and I felt my face flush as many of the patrons in the casino turned to stare. I put my head down and hopped off the stool.
I rushed from the room as I heard Mom trying to calm Chef down.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid." I muttered under my breath. That wasn't the time to loose track of my surroundings, and I just stopped stirring? For what? The people cheating, if they even existed, wouldn't be caught just because a five year-old slave girl said they were suspicious. I would need much better proof than that.
I got caught up with the idea of catching cheaters because it was cool, when I could have been fine just stirred the pot and been fine. Now Chef wasn't going to let me back into that kitchen for months. Unless I could find something else the long shot of finding the cheaters would probably be the only thing I could do.
"Hey." A voice spoke up, making me jump. I turned to see Em leaning through the door a bit down the hall that lead to the Casino proper. "You okay there Critter?"
I took a deep breath before giving my best smile. "I'm good, thank you."
Em looked at me in consideration for a moment before waving a hand over.
"Come on, help me bus some tables." She said.
WhoaMama — Today at 2:31 PM
"I thought that customers don't like seeing a kid around."
"Bah, that's overblown." Em said with a dismissive gesture, "If I'm with you, no one will even notice you anyways."
That was fair. Em was many things, ugly was not one of them.
"Alright." I said with some more pep. Perhaps I could get this to work out too.
I walked out to the Golden Oasis proper with Em, staying a bit behind her and trying to take in everything around me. It was loud, and we were at the middle of the day, the height of business for the casnio. No one wanted to be outside during the heat of the day on Tatooine.
Em beelined for an empty table and pulled a small metal tool from...somewhere on her outfit. It was a metal cylinder about ten inches long with three buttons along one side and an opening on the other.
"What is this?" I asked, turning the cool metal over in my hands.
"CL-4N Sanitizer. Cleans the table with a wave of the hand and press of the button." Em said as she began to gather up the cups and plates.
I raised an eyebrow. That sounded a bit too advanced for something that Gardulla would hand out to her slaves to clean tables with.
"It actually works?" I asked skeptically.
Em leaned in and gave a whisper. "The customers believe it does and that's all that matters."
I nodded my head in understanding. A cleaver trick that made the place seem more "refined". The CL-4N might actually exist. It might even look like what I had in my hand, but this devices existed to make people feel better, not to actually clean anything.
Another aspect of the Golden Oasis' duality.
"Which button?" I asked as she finished clearing the table.
"It really doesn't matter." She replied as she turned to walk away.
I pressed the top button it let out a whine and light flashed from the open end over the table. I turned to the chair and pressed the second button. It did the same thing again.
Well, alrighty then.
I turned and scampered after Em, who had stopped and began chatting to the occupants at one of the gambling tables.
"You all need any service over her?" Em asked with a wink.
"Maybe after I finish cleaning this guy out." One man joked, the one with tight pants I'd managed to see earlier. The two yellow Zabrak had managed to follow tight pants to the table too. Besides the dealer that left two other people at the table, a human guy that looked to be anywhere from 16 to 21, he had peach fuzz on his face and probably called it a beard. The other was a green Nemodian who held his cards like he was trying to hide the secrets of the universe from everyone else.
"Please." Peach Fuzz said with a shake of his head, "If you're so sure, throw more money in. I could use a new speeder."
"Why so it can get eaten by an imaginary monster too?" One of the Zabrak said, causing the table to burst into laughter, except the Nemodian and Peach Fuzz.
"Hey now! There are lots of things out in the sands that are big like that! I'm telling you, it came out of nowhere and grabbed onto the back of my speeder and just ripped right through it!" He insisted.
"Nothing in the area bites straight through a speeder like that kid." Tight Pants said with a shake of his head.
"But I-"
"Aw, lay off him. I'm sure he's telling the truth." Em cut in. "He's got honest eyes. You should look out for this guy though." She gestured towards the Nemodian, "He seems like he's a real card shark."
The Nemodian's head shot up, surprised to suddenly be included in things.
"Huh?" He said.
"Hey! Can I get a refill over here!" A voice yelled from another table. "Maybe give it a shake too."
Em continued her journey and gave a laugh a little too loud to be completely genuine. "Sure thing! Though the shake is extra!"
Just like she predicted, no one seemed to notice me as I followed behind Em. I took the next several hours came by in a blur as I carried plates, bowls, and cups. Moments of using the "sanitizer" interspersed throughout. All the while I found myself becoming impressed with Em. Despite all her work and all the crap people gave to her, she never removed her smile and even I found myself believing that she was actually enjoyed herself.
"Alright, come on Critter, we got a bit of slow time, lets grab some food and sit down for a bit." Em said after a while.
I followed Em into the backroom eating area. A single shipping container sat there, meaning to be our table while smaller boxes served as the seats. In moments we had our food, bits and pieces of what the customers didn't want to eat with a portion of cheap "Meal Bars"; they were hockey pucks that claimed to be all that the average sentient needed for their daily intake of food. Taking some of the customers leftover food made the bars bearable.
"You did pretty good out there Deska. You were always where I needed you without me having to say much. I could use your help doing this. I could even put in a word with Gardulla that you are being helpful." Em said.
"Thank you!" I said with some relief then looked down to my food in thought. "Em, do you think that will be enough to have Gardulla not sell me?"
Em made a few sounds as she tried to say something, but went silent. After it stretched for a few moments I closed my eyes.
"I'm not getting any more done. I'm just making your job easier." I said.
"I mean...it will help?" She offered. "I'll do what I can to for you."
"I appreciate that, I just..." I sigh. This was too much for a five year-old to be worrying about. "I'll keep trying to be like you."
Em recoiled as if I had slapped her. "Like me? Why would you be like me?"
"You are confident. People like you. You dazzle people. I like that." I said simply.
"That's a lot of work kid." She said simply. "I don't know that is something that you can just decide to be either."
"But you enjoy it don't you?" I asked as I took another bite of food, swallowing quickly so I didn't have to taste it too much. "You seem to actually be happy while working, not just pretending like lots of the others do."
"Oh? And what makes you so sure that I'm happy?" She asked, leaning over her food.
"I dunno. Just a feeling, but I'm sure that you enjoyed your time in there. Everyone else hated it."
Em sat for a moment gauging me. It was an innocuous question, I didn't see what she would have to be suspicious about. I returned her look with a tilt of my head and a returned curious expression.
Finally, Em let out a laugh and sat back.
"Remind me to never play you in klikklak." Em said with a shake of her head. "Yeah, I was enjoying myself, just because we're slaves doesn't mean we have to be miserable. You just have to look for the part you enjoy. I get to meet interesting people, I get to flirt, I get to laugh and tease. That's all fun."
My brows furrowed, digesting her words.
"So if you were to be freed-" I began but didn't get a chance to even finish the sentence.
"I would take the opportunity in a second." Em said without hesitation. "A caged bird still enjoys singing, but that doesn't mean it likes its cage."
I had a feeling this wasn't the first time Em used that metaphor, it flowed from her easily.
"So...don't worry be happy?" I asked.
Em snorted. "Not really, more find your fun where you can. If you can make your life better, take the option. If you can't, then enjoy yourself while you wait for the opportunity."
I considered the words. They seemed wise and rang with a certain amount of truth to me.
"Okay. I'll keep that in mind." I stood up and grabbed our now empty plates, intent on returning them to the kitchens. "Thank you for the advice."
I just finished grabbing both plates when Em asked me a question I didn't expect.
"Would you take the opportunity to be freed if it arrived?" She asked.
I thought that was a silly question.
"Only if Mom and Ani are freed too."
Em gave a look that was difficult to place. Melancholy was the closest I could compare to.
"Alright Sedka, return those to the kitchen and if you're Mom is okay with it we'll go back out and do some more tables. Okay?" She asked.
"Sure thing!" I yelled back as I moved down the hall. As I passed the door leading to the casino though, I heard a cry of triumph.
"Yes! In your face! Ha ha!"
I peeked out the door and saw Peach Fuzz standing in triumph. Everyone else at the table was the same, but the Nemoidian had been replaced by a grumpy looking dug. Peach Fuzz also had a sizable pile of credit chits in front of him.
"Yeah yeah. You won the hand, now give us a shot to-" Tight Pants began only for the winner to cut him off.
"Nope. I'm set for the next year with this. This is where I call it quits, besides, I don't think you guys have enough money worth taking anymore!" Peach Fuzz cheered.
Then I saw it. In that moment the two Zabrak and Tight Pants got a look of triumph on their faces. The apparent losers were happy?
Then the moment passed and they adopted a grumpy look on their faces.
This was it. This was the cheating that they were talking about.
They worked together to make one guy win. Why? How did it benefit them?
I watched, transfixed, as Peach Fuzz stood up and walked to cash out his chits, the three criminals at the table played two more hands then excused themselves, not even bothering to cash out the few chips they had. They went outside before Peach Fuzz could finish getting his money.
The world sung around me and I KNEW that something big was about to go down. I placed the tableware on the ground and rushed out one of the side doors, circling around the building just in time to catch Peach Fuzz skipping out of the casino and further into the city. I followed after.
Three blocks after the casino they struck. A speeder that looked more like a personnel transport than a commuting vehicle swerved in front of Peach Fuzz. The two Zabrak stepped out on either side of the street they leveled blasters at the teenager. Tight Pants, the driver of the vehicle, leaned out as well, blaster in hand.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Peach Fuzz panicked raising his hands. "I won fair and-"
"Get in." Tight Pants ordered.
Then it dawned on me. This is what they were doing. They pushed for a fall guy to win at the table all night, coordinating his victory, and when he cashes out and leaves they rob him on the way home. It was as brilliant as it was ruthless.
Then I asked myself a question.
"What the hell am I supposed to do about this?" I whispered to myself.
Myself didn't have an answer, the bitch.
xxxx
This chapter gave me lots of trouble. I scrapped it entirely once and restarted. Here it is, and now we are on to some higher stakes and intrigue!
Special thanks to my s. Special thanks to Creed, Jassolus, Trent Cannon, Richard Whereat, TheGreenKraken, Dillon, and Alethiophile for donating at the ten dollar or more limit!