Chapter Eighteen
The room was empty when Obi Wan returned. He couldn't say he was really surprised, but at the same time… he was. He'd thought, or more hoped, she'd want to talk things out? Fix things between them? She hadn't changed the door code, so that was a good sign at least.
That "her" lightsaber and some of her clothes were missing was decidedly not a good sign though. She couldn't be that reckless, could she? She wouldn't leave on her foolhardy mission immediately, would she?
He flopped down on the bed with a soft curse – followed by a louder one as the bed's corner collapsed and almost dumped him on the floor. Was Buffy rash enough to leave immediately to free Anikin's mother? He already knew the answer to that. She'd chased a Sith across the galaxy.
His hand rubbed across his face roughly as he mentally calculated the odds of her success. Going into a Hutt's territory and stealing from them? That had been tried and the horrific results spread across the universe too many times to count. The stories of success were far and few between and often more likely lies. But this was Buffy, and she had a knack for achieving the impossible. If anyone could do it, it would be her.
With a Sith as backup?
The thought was startling both in content and its bitterness. Had the Sith gone with her? Not only was the Sith possibly unreliable, he could very well be a threat to her. Had a Sith apprentice ever left their Master or the dark side? Was that even possible? He wished he still had access to the archives.
The thought that she may very well die out there, not just fail, slammed into him, making him sit up as his throat closed. Going into Hutt territory on a dangerous mission alone was bad enough, but with your only backup being someone that could kill you the moment you turned your back?
Maybe he should seek out the Chancellor? If Buffy had already left then he didn't have much of a chance at catching up with her, but it was possible the Chancellor had contacts in the outer rim. Maybe he could at least arrange some backup for her…
He shook his head and lurched off the bed to pace the tiny room. That was ridiculous. He was going to ask a Chancellor to help her start a war with the Hutts? Could he be any more stupid?
But something in the back of his mind kept prodding him, telling him to go back to Chancellor Palpatine, to trust him, to let him help. He stopped in the middle of his pacing, confused. It almost felt like the Force directing him, a little itch on the edge of his consciousness, prodding him in that direction. He was actually slightly wary of the Chancellor despite him seeming well intentioned.
Palming his eyes at the oncoming headache, he decided to try to get some rest. Buffy had been on her own for long before he knew her. She'd traveled across dimensions! She didn't need him around to play protector every second.
Shucking off his boots, he fell back on the bed – this time navigating the tilt of the missing corner more gracefully.
The sun was coming up when they stepped out of the ship at the docking bay at the edge of the city. A slightly cool breeze was helping but it was clear it was going to miserably hot out here very soon. Heat that had never fully dissipated from the day before crept through Buffy's boots and up her calves.
Mos Espa wasn't like Crimson Corridor, where day or night was interchangeable to the residents. While there was movement, you could tell it was a town just waking up. Weird, with as hot as it was out there you'd think that they'd all stay indoors during the day and go out at night. She opened her mouth to ask Bal about it when Maul's soft voice came from behind them, making the smuggler tense.
"Have you thought of a plan yet?"
"Sure," she shrugged, turning so she could look at both of them. "Go in, grab Mama Skywalker, deactivate the explode-y thing and get out."
She would've laughed at the identical disgusted looks Bal and Maul were giving her if she weren't kind of offended.
"What? That's an awesome plan!" She said defensively. "Quick and to the point. Lots of extra steps means more stuff can go wrong. Playing it by ear is better."
"Do you know where she lives? Where she works? What she looks like?" Bal asked, voice getting progressively louder when each question was met by a blank look.
"Her name is 'Shmi', how many Shmi's could there be? It's like you going and asking around for Buffy. No one's going to say 'Which Buffy?'," she said. "Oh, and Anikan said something about working in a scrap yard?"
"Better than nothing," Bal sighed.
She could swear she heard Maul mutter "Not by much" but couldn't be sure as he'd ducked his head to raise the hood of his black robe over it.
"You're going to roast," she said. Hell, she was going to roast in light linen-like outfit Bal had provided. She'd mentioned him changing on the ship (mentally thinking he might actually be more conspicuous in local clothing) but he'd declined, saying he preferred to stay out of sight and provide backup. She hadn't argued. Having a giant black shadow wouldn't make the search any easier.
"The heat does not affect me."
"You say that, but when you're stinking up the ship on the way back with your sweat drenched robe I'm going to have to give you a 'told you so'."
Checking to be sure she had her lightsaber in her left boot and a knife in the other, she almost missed the exchange behind her. If she hadn't had Slayer hearing it would've easily slipped by her.
"I know a threat from me won't mean much to someone like you," Bal's voice was quiet and darker than she'd ever heard it. "But you come back here without her, I'll find a way to kill you."
"Let's get a move on," she called, interrupting before Bal could say anything else that might get his head chopped off.
As they took off toward the town and Bal watched, none of them noticed the small figure creeping out of the ship behind them.
Maul crouched on top of another rooftop, ignoring the way the heat weighed on him like a physical presence. He'd been hotter places – this was almost pleasant. Buffy, on the other hand, looked miserable. Light hair sticking to her forehead and the sides of her neck, clothing clinging to her in ways that made the slavers watch with greedy eyes.
And behind her, a small figure almost as inconspicuous as himself. It seemed the child in the walls had decided to follow. Not his concern. There were more important issues at hand.
Such as the fact this wasn't a rescue. It was a trap.
Having been to Mos Espa in the past he easily spotted those under the Hutts' employ posing as merchants and traders – tensing when one would direct Buffy and her questions in a certain direction in which she would follow, none the wiser.
The question was, what was he going to do about it.
He needed the slave woman. That was the way to Buffy's loyalty, he was sure. This ridiculous, pointless mission to save this one insignificant human was his way in – a way to ingratiate himself to her. A step ahead of the Jedi whelp who'd rightly called out this idea and his presence for the folly it was.
As he watched her though, he wondered if it really was folly. She'd found him. Tracked him when he was practically invisible. From planet to planet, she'd pursued him and then she'd beaten him. Most would have said that was a far more dangerous task than risking the ire of a Hutt. He was a Sith, walking death, not some petty crime lord. And she'd not only bested him, she'd forgiven him. After such potent conviction in vengeance, she'd let go of her hate for him as easily as an exhaled breath and let him into her life. What kind of creature did that?
And what did she do to inspire such loyalty from those around her? There was this bug of a child scurrying after her from the Antipodes to a smuggling ship and now into Mos Espa. From what he could glean the Jedi had actually left the Order to join forces with her. The smuggler (whose name was actually well known his jobs were so prolific) had taken his life in his hands to threaten her safe return; had taken her into Black Sun and Hutt territory on missions that should mean certain death. More than credits were at work there.
Then there was himself. He could've returned to Sidious, given his explanations and taken what punishment awaited even if it be death. Instead, he'd sought her out with the idea that they could revive the Sith line instead and unseat Sidious. After spending some time with her though, he knew that the way of the Sith wouldn't work for her – there wasn't enough hate in her. But there was no denying her power had dark roots and he was sure they could be unstoppable if she embraced that.
His musings were cut short as he saw the path they were guiding her down was coming to an end. They were approaching Jabba's home. He should have known the Hutt would arrange to have Buffy brought directly to him. Though this amount of subterfuge was unlike him. Usually, he'd just have her attacked and brought to him or would send out mercenaries to kill her, not lead her on a strange kind of imaginary hunt.
He must've been warned who he was dealing with.
"It's a trap, huh?" Buffy said without looking back at Maul, who'd just silently dropped to the ground behind her on the oddly empty street.
"Most certainly," he answered.
While she'd been hoping maybe the people of Mos Espa were just really friendly by readily answering any question she'd aksed and directing her to the same place, the reality of it being a coordinated effort to herd her to one spot was quickly obvious.
"I wasn't very stealthy in my search for info on Hutt slaves, guess I shouldn't be surprised he's expecting me."
She mentally cringed a little remembering her visit to the Tuskan Oasis and multiple other heavy handed "visits" to get information directly about the slaving operations in the outer rim.
"Oh well, let's not keep our host waiting."
Maul's hand was on her shoulder before she took her first step and she had to shove away the instinct to attack.
"You plan to enter anyway?" He asked, as blank as ever as she looked back at him.
"We're already here," she shrugged. "He obviously already knows I'm here. Do you think he's just going to let me walk away? If I'm going to fight or have bad guys chasing me, it's going to be because I took what I came for, not because I'm running away at the first sign of trouble. Plan stays the same – grab Shmi, disable the explode-y thing and get out."
Something about the look on his face told her he didn't expect it to be that easy, and honestly neither did she. But she also didn't plan to leave this planet without Anikan's mom.
The huge entrance doors were wide open, a deceptive welcoming. Looking at the size of the doors as they passed through she glanced back at Maul with a little concern.
"Is a Hutt really big?"
The look on his face was his equivalent to a face palm, which made her think his answer was "duh" even though he didn't say anything. Not good. Maybe she should've looked more into what a Hutt was before coming here.
The main room was filled with all kinds of strange things on pedestals that Buffy guessed were treasures, but most were indecipherable to her both in form and function. The floor sloped downward toward a door that was closed, but to the right was one that was open - as obvious as a big "go this way" neon arrow. Her instincts were twitching the danger meter, but nothing like Maul set off, so that gave her some comfort.
It shouldn't have.
The house was dimly lit as they moved away from the front door, so Buffy was surprised when two turns and three open doors later she saw daylight streaming in again.
"Did we just walk through this place like he was giving an open house tour?" She asked, confused.
"His own personal amphitheater," Maul said. "He plans a spectacle."
"Oh, I can give him a spectacle," she said, marching forward.
She did pause before stepping outside – she was confident, not suicidal. She stayed to the left of the door while Maul went to the right but it was so bright outside, and so dim in, that it took her eyes a moment to adjust. Before she could get a sense of what was going on out there, a strange wet grumbling filled the air.
"He says to 'come out, little girl'," Maul said from behind her.
"That was language? It sounded like my stomach after an adventurous day at the diner…"
"Can you tell him-"
"He understands basic, he just doesn't speak it," Maul said, apparently not at all interested in being her mouth piece.
"You know why I'm here," she called. "Give me Shmi and no one has to get h-"
A blaster bolt took out the corner by her face and she ducked back to the sound of deep, rumbling laughter. What followed sounded more like burping than speech, but Maul translated as she tried to wipe away the dust and just mixed it with her drying sweat, making a sticky paste.
"'I give nothing, but perhaps a bargain'."
"He just said 'little girl'. Does he know you're here?" She asked Maul.
"Unlikely. I've been directing attention away from myself," he answered blandly as if it weren't some kind of magic.
"You couldn't have taught me to do that," she huffed.
"I could teach you many things, you just have to ask," he said, eyes glittering in the dim light.
Disturbed, she looked away. "I'm going out. Stay here and give me a translation if you can do it without letting him know you're here."
Hoping her instincts would keep her from getting her head blown off, she put her hands up and stepped out into the light. The temperature change was immediate and brutal, sweat running down her spine and soaking into the waistband of her pants in the space of two breaths.
"It's fine," she said to herself quietly as she took in her surroundings. "It'll be fine."
It wasn't going to be fine. This was very bad.
