Inspector Falkus slowly opened his eyes. As they began to focus he realized he was staring at a cantina ceiling. Why in the name of pick-your-favorite-deity was he lying on the floor? He lifted his head. Or tried to. The room was spinning gently and his stomach was letting him know that he was nauseous. His head joined the pain party. His joints pointedly warned him that moving them at this moment was not optimal.
Vertigo. Nausea. Body aches. Falkus groaned. That bastard Hux had stunned him. He lay there a few more minutes until he felt he could move without depositing his stomach contents on Bec'jurip's floor.
The Inspector turned his head to the right and saw a pair of lovely emerald green feet clad in bejeweled sandals. His eyes focused on the feet, then he looked up to the frowning face of their owner.
"You know the rules regarding fighting in my establishment, Peter." Bec'jurip frowned at him. "V'iaal said that your men accosted Red and his companion when they attempted to leave."
Falkus groaned again. He slowly sat up, then levered himself into the empty chair next to him. Laying on the floor was undignified, even though his body protested the idea of moving.
"I couldn't let Armitage Hux get away, Bec'jurip," the Inspector protested. "It's my job to arrest him."
"Fine. But not here, Inspector," she replied sternly.
He looked over toward his men. Poe and Finn were lying on the floor, obviously stunned. Though the Romulan Ale probably contributed to their state of unconsciousness.
Bec'jurip put a piece of paper on the table in front of Falkus. "Two names," she stated flatly. "A Balosar named Virn Brullagro and a Corellian named Bud Eagga. Contact information is on the paper."
"When can I meet them?" asked the Inspector.
Bec'jurip shrugged. "That's up to you. At the moment they are at the Grand Arena for the race. I suggest you comm them and set up a meeting place."
"Not here, I take it," commented Falkus.
"You started a fight in my establishment, Peter. What do you think?"
Falkus sighed. "I'll wake up my men and get out of your hair, Bec'jurip."
She looked over at them. "Let me get an antidote for them. Otherwise, they'll be out for hours."
**TaBa**
Rey looked up from her pile of snacks and peered intently at Kylo. He had his eyes closed and his hands folded in his lap. She frowned. How could he sleep with all this noise? And they were surrounded by people who were all thinking loudly. She poked his arm a few times.
"You haven't gone to sleep, have you Kylo?"
"Humm?" he murmured, eyes still closed.
"Are you sleeping or meditating?" she persisted.
"Stop poking me, Rey," he muttered. He opened his eyes and looked at her. "There's something unsettled about the Force."
"Is something going on?" she asked. "Are we in danger?"
"Not sure," he mumbled. I can't pinpoint what's wrong, but I have a bad feeling about it."
"Well, is there anything we need to do right now?"
"I can't really tell," Kylo responded thoughtfully. "I think we need to be ready to leave Mos Espa as soon as the race is done."
"What about Kateria and Dr. Galen?" asked Rey. "Shouldn't we comm them?"
"And tell them what, precisely?" retorted Kylo. "The Force feels funny? Kateria doesn't need to be distracted when she's trying to run a pod race without killing herself."
"Ok, I see your point," agreed Rey reluctantly.
Kylo held out his hand. "If you could help me block out the noise I can try to see if I can get some clarification from the Force."
She took his hand. "Ok, but once the race starts this probably won't work. Podracing fans are worst than football fans when it comes to rowdiness."
**TaBa**
Inspector Falkus, Poe, and Finn were at an interior table at Akim's Munch, tall glasses of water in front of them and some human-compatible food in a big bowl in the center. Both Poe and Finn were doing their best to maintain poker faces as their heads throbbed with hangover headaches. Across the table were mercenaries Virn Brullagro, a Balosar, and Bud Eagga, a Corellian. The two were dressed in black leather (practically a uniform for mercenaries), each sporting a single blaster. Falkus was fairly confident that they sported more weaponry unseen on their persons. The Balosar's antennapalps were withdrawn into his head. Falkus didn't blame him. The noise of the crowd and the discordant wailing of the house band made his ears ache. He could imagine what the other was experiencing.
"So let me get this straight, Inspector," rumbled the Balosar. "You want to employ us for a snatch-and-grab mission. Why don't you just hire a couple of bounty hunters? It would be cheaper."
"It would," agreed Falkus. "However, my supervisor, Director Bolera, believes contracted mercenaries is the better option." He pulled out a single-use datapad from a coat pocket and handed it across the table. "The contract details are in this document. If you are in agreement please affix your thumbprints at the bottom."
The Balosar scanned the datapad and handed it to the Corellian.
"Do you have holos of the targets?" he asked. Falkus nodded and handed them a holocube with images of Aurelia and Hux.
The Corellian held it up and scrutinized the images carefully before turning to his companion. "I dunno, Virm. The male looks like Bàs Dearg."
Virm took a closer look. "You're right, Bud," he agreed, frowning. He looked back at the Inspector. "I don't think we want to take on Bàs Dearg, Inspector."
"Ya, I gotta agree with Virm," chimed in Bud. "He was the mission commander on several campaigns in the Outer Rim that we were on. Brilliant man, deadly as a hungry rathtar."
"What about that big blond female who worked with him?" added Virm. "She was scary beyond all reason." He handed the datapad back to Falkus. "Bud and I have serious reservations about taking on Bàs Dearg and the blond terror."
"Not without a squad of soldiers as backup," agreed Bud.
"The blond is not with him at the moment." clarified the Inspector.
"That's better but I'm still cautious about taking him in a head-on fight." demurred Virm.
"Fine," Falkus replied. "I'll make it easier for you two. Grab the girl and bring her back to my ship. I presume you're capable of that without being detected. When he comes looking for her we'll have a five-to-one advantage."
The mercenaries looked at each other thoughtfully. "That might work," agreed Virm.
"Who's the bird Inspector?" asked Bud. "What's her angle?"
"She's a medical doctor. Essentially an innocent bystander who's gotten involved in something way over her head," replied Falkus. "I'm fairly certain that she is suffering from trauma bonding."
"So? And why is he dragging her around? Seems like she'd be a dead weight."
"I'm not sure," conceded the Inspector. "Human shield probably. He may have developed an emotional bond."
"The ice-man? Not bloody likely," scoffed Virm.
"In any case, are we agreed on the immediate mission?" asked Falkus. The mercenaries nodded. "Then I'll modify the contract parameters."
He picked up the datapad, typed for a few minutes, looked up at them, and handed it to them. "This will change the payment rate and schedule, of course."
They read over the modified contract. "It's acceptable," acquiesced Virm. Bud nodded, and they both added their thumbprints to the document. Bud handed the datapad back to the Inspector, and Falkus tucked it in a pocket of his overcoat.
He pulled out a credit stick and pushed it across the table. "Your deposit. The rest will be paid on completion of the mission."
"Do you have a location on the targets?" asked Bud as he tucked the credit stick into a breast pocket.
"Yes. Bec'jurip loaned me a couple of her street rats to follow them. They're near the entrance of the Grand Arena, trying to blend in with the crowd."
"Excellent," nodded Virm. "Where do we bring the girl after we've acquired her?"
"We're berthed at Hangar 68, parking spot 31. It's a YV-100 light freighter registered as the Galaxy Quest."
As the mercenaries left Poe and Finn dropped their facades of sobriety with a groan.
"Sir, with all due respect, don't ever offer me Romulan Ale again," moaned Poe as he cradled his head in his hands.
"Ditto," groaned Finn, his face buried in his folded arms on the table.
"I guess you two had a valuable learning experience," commented Inspector Falkus.
Poe peeked at him through his fingers. The bastard his boss had drunk twice as much of that horrible blue alcohol than he or Finn and it didn't appear to have affected him at all.
**TaBa**
And now the gods of narrative necessity turn their attention momentarily from Mos Espa to a discrete location on a planet near the border of the Outer Rim and the Unknown Regions.
There was a shrill beeping from a datapad in a darkened room. Daibhidh Mac Dhomhnuill, Grand Master of the Grey Order, startled awake.
"Lights, 30 percent." As the room brightened slightly he looked over at the squawking datapad and sighed. He activated the call and squinted at the blue holoimage of Seneschal Dòmhnall MacSheumais.
"Once again, your timing is peccable, Dòmhnall," grumbled Mac Dhomhnuill.
"I'm sorry, did I wake you Daibhidh?" MacSheumais asked.
The Grand Master grimaced. "I've become resigned to the fact that for the duration of this conference you will be waking me up in the middle of the night with bad news."
The Seneschal ventured a small smile. "It's more of a travel update than bad news Daibhidh."
Mac Dhomhnuill yawned and waited for him to continue. "Well?" he finally asked.
"This is regarding our wandering Force users. You should see them shortly, along with Master Galen."
"And how do you know this, Master Seneschal?"
"One of our minor adepts just happened to be on Tatooine and decided to attend the Boonta Eve Podrace. They were seated in the Grand Arena fairly close to Kylo Ren and Rey Skywalker. Ren and Skywalker were discussing the pros and cons of going to speak to the Council of Elders when their business was concluded on Tatooine."
"I'm not sure that's a good thing or a bad thing, Dòmhnall," retorted Mac Dhomhnuill.
"I wasn't either," acknowledged MacSheumais. "So I contacted one of our more experienced Seers and asked them to do a random draw from the Cairtean Etteilla."
"Ah? I thought you were skeptical about the usefulness of little pieces of cardboard."
"Normally I would be, Daibhidh. This time I felt a strong indication from the Force that they were appropriate in this case."
"Which cards were drawn?" asked the Grand Master
"We ended up with 4 cards, Banrigh a' Chlaidheimh (Queen of Swords), An Diabhal (The Devil), Breithneachadh (Judgement), and An Duine Crochte (The Hanged Man)."
"Change and decision making," Mac Dhomhnuill hummed, stroking his chin speculatively.
"Yes sir, for everyone," replied the Seneschal. "I am of the opinion that the Grey Order will need to decide if it is in our best interest to offer sanctuary to two war criminals and their companions. Kylo Ren and Armitage Hux will need to decide if the sanctuary we may offer is worth putting themselves under the authority of the Council of Elders."
"Something that will require a great deal of thought and meditation in the Force," commented the Grand Master dryly.
"Will you need me to join you before Ren and Hux arrive, sir?" asked MacSheumais.
Mac Dhomhnuill considered the question for a few moments.
"Yes, Dòmhnall. Come as soon as practical. Since we don't know what their reactions will be I would like to have a few more strong Force users as backup."
"Yes sir. I'll leave tomorrow."
"Excellent. Good night, Dòmhnall."
"Good night, Daibhidh."
Author's Notes: Summary - Falkus wakes up after being stunned by Hux. Bec'jurip gives him the names of two reliable mercenaries and asks him to leave her establishment. Falkus, Poe, and Finn meet with the mercenaries. Kylo and Rey are still at the Grand Arena. Kylo perceives something unsettled in the Force and has a bad feeling about it. Seneschal Dòmhnall MacSheumais contacts Daibhidh Mac Dhomhnuill, Grand Master of the Grey Order. They discuss Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux, and their traveling companions.
Author Update: I'm back! September and most of October were really busy IRL. Then I needed to take some time thinking about which way I wanted to take this fic. Eventually, it's going to have to end. I just want to make sure it ends well and just doesn't dribble off in an unsatisfactory manner.
