The Anchorhead bureau of Czerka Corporation
"Stop kicking the dust, Blue." Canderous chided as they approached the Czerka office. A dry and windy place, the sand of Tatooine lifted, cycling into tiny tornados. It slapped at their legs as they made their progress through the unpaved town. Mission jumped and landed in the center of a mini whirlwind, disrupting its path and spraying the three of them with hot sand.
"Damnit kid, would you quit that!" Canderous roared angrily.
"Knock it off, both of you." Pol ordered.
"Ah poot, I got sand in my shoes now." Mission complained.
"Serves you right," The Mandalorian barked. His mood left a lot to be desired, and Mission was looking for a distraction, so she couldn't help but niggle maliciously.
"So C-note, are you going to follow Pol everywhere? You look like a big mean old droolin' Mandalorian guard dog." Mission ragged him. Between her anxiety over her brother and Canderous's foul humor, due to an exceptionally bad nights sleep, the typically tolerant two had gotten quite antsy. Pol contemplated a means to end the fight before it began.
"You got a Wookiee." Canderous pointed out, shaking sand from his shirt.
"Yeah, but I'm not a saber-wielding maniac like Pol; and she has Big Z's protection too."
"Ah, but the Mandalorian smells better." Pol snickered.
Canderous shot her a look. "Gee thanks Polly, anything else you would like to share?"
Mission's face screwed up in distaste. "Oh, please don't!"
"Well, desist your sand spraying or I might decide to…share." Pol threatened, inanely hoping to lighten the mood.
Mission went white. "I'll stop! But I have to ask this: C-note, who do you think you are you protecting her from?" Mission kicked the sand in Canderous's direction playfully.
"Who you got?" He asked ominously as he kicked the swirling sand back to the Twi'lek. The majority of the dust skittered over to Pol, saturating her with its hot spray.
Pol whirled, frowning; apparently she had reached her daily sand requirement. "Ok children, next person to kick the sand flurries can unclog Zaalbar's hair from the fresher drain!" Her companions looked amply chastened by the time they entered the Czerka building.
"Hi, I am looking for one of your employees." Pol stated, leaning over the counter. The representative acknowledged her with a grim smile.
"One moment, what name?" The woman asked.
Mission piped in. "Griff Vao." She said with a restless look.
"I will just see what shift he is on. Oh dear, I am sorry, but Griff Vao is listed here as missing. He was part of the team taken by the Sand People last week." The woman delivered her declaration without an ounce of sensitivity. Mission's eyes broadened in alarm. Pol touched her shoulders soothingly and took over the questioning.
"Taken where?" Pol asked assertively.
"Over the Dune Sea, they have a commune there. There is a good chance he is alive, as they're inclined to take slaves." The woman said, looking suddenly interested.
"I need to speak with them about his release." Pol prompted. I am not about to give up on this.
"The Sand People are quite a menace, they don't welcome visitors and they attack on sight. I don't like your chances, but if you are willing to help Czerka be rid of this nuisance, I can be of assistance." The woman smiled tritely.
"What would you have me do?" Pol sighed resignedly.
"Kill them, of course. We pay handsomely for their gaffi sticks as proof of their termination. If you agree to do this, I will issue a permit for you to access the Dune Sea. Without that, you won't be allowed to leave the settlement." The woman leaned her chin on her hands and smiled callously.
Pol looked at Canderous, Canderous looked at Mission. Mission looked from one to the other, tears forming. Pol's eyes said 'I don't want to agree to this, but we can't let her down.'
Canderous read the look. "Are they challenging?" he asked the woman.
"Extremely," She said honestly.
Without hesitation, he agreed. "Ok, I'll do it." He said dispassionately.
Mission brightened. "Thanks C-note, you're the best!" She grabbed him around the middle and gave him a hug. Startled by the unsolicited embrace, Canderous threw his hands up in the air and away from Mission, careful not to touch the clinging Twi'lek. He wore an expression of denial and disgruntlement.
He looked to Pol for help, "What? Pol, stop her, she's clearly insane!" He said. Pol held back a laugh and covered her smile. Mission let go and wiped away a stray tear. Canderous looked away. Crazy broads.
Ebon Hawk
"What in space are these gizka doing here?" Bastila demanded.
"Breeding ugh, they were delivered this morning in a crate," Carth said scuffing a gizka out of the way with the toe of his boot.
"Statement: Would you like me to blast the pesky organics, Owner?" HK-47, the new droid, was eager to prove his functionality. He had been this way since the Jedi had purchased him, to Juhani and Bastila's dismay. Jolee had remained suspiciously close mouthed since its purchase.
"No, HK," ordered Bastila.
"Disappointed declaration: I fear this will be a most unsatisfactory stint of employment, Owner."
"Carth, did you have to release them?" Bastila said, looking at the gizka distastefully.
(That's what I said.) Zaalbar groaned.
"Well, get them out of here. They can't stay." Bastila quivered with disgust. She pointed to the loading ramp for emphasis. The sleeve of her robe fell and quivered, exposing her agitation.
Jolee stepped in. "Whoa, slow down people, we can't just release them. Do you have any idea of the environmental impact? Not to mention the hefty fines we would be facing."
Canderous targeted and kicked a gizka as he trudged up the boarding ramp. He was followed by Mission, who extracted the booted beastie from the place where it landed. Mission scooped it up and gave it a cuddle. "Oo gizka! Look at you, ya cute lil' croaker!"
Pol came in last of all and dodged her way through the animals, careful not to tread on any. "What is with all the gizka?" Pol asked as she entered the common room. The recently purchased HK did a double take and exclaimed loudly.
"Relieved Exclamation: Master, you are alive!" The HK unit vocalized.
"Do you know this droid, Pol?" Juhani asked with an elegantly raised eyebrow. The crew gaped and the Gizka propagated.
"Know him? I built him. Or rather, Revan did." Pol circled the droid, looking it over. She looked sad, but judiciously so. "You're looking rough, HK-47." She criticized, giving him a rap on the chassis. Of all the things I remember…The fifteen long months I poured into this baby.
"Contemptible agreement: You are right Master! I have taken a quite a battering at the incompetent digits of Yuka Laka. Oh, how I would like to crush his neck. Optimistic Query: Would you like me to kill something for you now, Master?"
Pol closed her eyes. Canderous watched her intently, another piece of her past. "No, HK. Juhani, where did you get him?" Pol asked the Jedi.
"A droid store, apparently he is fluent in the Sand People's language." Bastila said as she looked at the red robot dubiously. Juhani and Jolee nodded in unison, trying to back her up.
"Yes, he is. You do realize this is an assassin droid? Oh HK, I am going to have to scrap you." Pol shook her head.
"Appeasement: Master, the core of my assassination protocol has been damaged. I can no longer provide that service. Query: Master, why would you scrap me have I not performed satisfactorily?"
"Because you are pure evil HK; a product of my poor judgment," Pol said despondently, a product of my former alignment.
"Proud Statement: Master, you are a pitiless and perceptive meatbag. I like you." In computer modulated tones the red droid drilled out the compliment that most sane individuals would have mistaken for an insult.
Pol looked skyward. Happiness to a droid was being useful. Like a working-dog in a small yard, Pol knew HK would be trouble if he wasn't kept busy. "HK, I am not the same Master that you once knew. I'm not even called Revan anymore."
"Observation: Master, you do seem greatly changed to me, but you are my maker and Master all the same. Imploring assertion: Please do not scrap me, Master. I still have ninety percent of my functionality. I am too new to deactivate!"
Pol felt sorry for her creation. She looked at her crew. They were all following the discourse with interest. If I could just have FIVE minutes alone! "I still need some of your features, Tin Man. But if you so much as take aim without my 'say so' I swear I will violate your circuitry with a hand saw and set your shiny red ass to meet and greet mode!"
"Relieved Acknowledgement: Master, you are so cruel! I approve, I will even endeavor to meet your recently revised pacifistic standards."
Pol addressed the gizka problem, "So does anyone have any ideas about the gizka then?"
Canderous said, "Barbeque?" Pol saluted him and pointed to Mission, who was stroking one of the beasts. "A discreet poisoning, then," He amended grumpily for Pol's ears alone.
"I wash my hands of this." Bastila grimaced and flinched when one of the animals got close to her. Rather than touch them, Juhani and Pol had noticed she had been shooing them away with small Force-driven gusts of wind.
"I don't think we have a choice. Mish, could you herd them into the storage space? Lock it and try not tot let them out till we have a 'solution'. Carth, Canderous, I will need my swoop bike running to cover the cost of HK's purchase." Pol gave the orders and arranged a caffa side meeting in the galley for the Jedi. The share and compare session covered finding the Star Map, placating the Sand People and locating Griff. Juhani and Bastila were given the task of locating the Star Map whilst Pol and Jolee dealt with the Sand People, and hopefully recovered Griff.
Meanwhile in the Swoop Garage
Canderous put the finishing touches to the swoop bike, personally not trusting Republic to get it right. HK-47 had taken up a post in the doorway of the garage. While Canderous worked, HK held center stage. He fielded questions about his former Master from Carth and the Mandalorian while Mission single-handedly plunked the last gizka safely away.
"Has Pol changed that much, HK?" Carth asked with a suspicious look.
"Disillusioned response: Yes, sadly it would seem that the only wickedness that remains in the Master is her sense of humor."
"Revan had a sense of humor?" Carth looked appalled by the thought. "A Sith Lord's practical jokes…I think my spine just turned to ice."
Canderous prompted HK for further detail with a grunt as he hooked up the new accelerator cable. HK activated his vocabulator. "Proud statement: Master had a fancy for dirty ditties. Some were rather good, by meatbag standards."
Canderous and Mission cracked up.
"You don't remember any of her dirty ditties, do you?" Mission asked hopefully. Carth left the garage when HK began a full scale recital.
Notice Me
"Bastila, are you busy?" Carth ran a hand through his hair nervously. There was something about the woman, so capable and so valiant. She didn't need anyone to hold her. Bastila could hold her own. In that self-reliant and viciously independent way, she reminded Carth of his late wife.
Bastila frowned, "I am always busy Carth. What is this about?"
Carth steeled himself. Ok Onasi, all systems go ready for anything. "Well I… uh, I wanted to talk about the other night, on Kashyyyk."
"Carth, as I said, I am very busy, if you have an important matter to discuss with me, let me know." Bastila resumed her meditation coolly. Carth trounced out of the cargo hold. Busy my ass. Look at her sitting there, on her spoilt royal rump; she's probably just thinking up fancy ways to tie her hair. After a moment he remembered the Mandalorians suggestion, and went on a wookiee hunt.
"Zaalbar? I need to know where Bastila sleeps."
(Why, Carth?) Zaalbar set the makings of a sonic grenade aside carefully. It wasn't the kind of job you leave half done, but he rationalized that if Carth wanted him for something, it must be vital to the Jedi's and therefore Pol's mission.
"Well, I want to play a joke on her and I don't want to get the wrong bed. You can sniff it out, right?"
(Yes, I can.) But you will have to wait, I'm busy! Zaalbar growled in irritation resumed the completion of the grenade. Carth nodded awkwardly and watched him work. (If you're going to hover the whole time, you can help.)
Some time later, the conspirators snuck into the women's bunkroom unnoticed. Zaalbar hardly qualified as the galaxy's quietest Wookiee, but the rest of the crew were preoccupied. Assiduous preparations were being made for their search and rescue mission out into the deep Dune Sea.
Carth looked at the beds; two hadn't been slept in at all, so they were discounted right away. Zaalbar sniffed the pillows. (This is Mission, it smells like 'Hinkler's Yummy' Gum. This is Juhani's, it has sweet fur. This is Bastila's.) He prodded the bunk with a hairy paw and groaned softly. (What are you going to do? It is not my intent to upset Pol.)
"This won't upset Pol. In fact, I can promise you she'll love it. Ah… um, alright. It's something Canderous said about getting Bastila's attention. What have I sunk to, asking a Wookiee and a Mandalorian for advice?"
(You ask because both the Mandalorian and I have better prospects than you.) Zaalbar guffawed.
"Well, now there is an embarrassing truth. He said if I made her mad, she might notice me more… Do you still have those dead gizka?" The pilot asked sheepishly.
Zaalbar roared with laughter. (Carth, do not be a fool. Canderous said make her mad, not furious.)
"Ok… then can you help me pick out a lively one?" The pilot looked several decades younger than his actual age at that moment in time. He went from 36 to 6 in three seconds flat.
(I would love to.) Zaalbar let out a woofle of amusement.