Chapter Three - Running
"Every once in a while, running is a valid way to face your problems, Padawan. It can give you the space and distance to find a new view of the issue. Just make sure you don't keep running." ~Tycih Lhar, Togorian Jedi Master, 3951 BBY
"Ten thousand credits for the lot of you," the Nikto said.
"We don't have that kind of money." Asharé tried not to sound as desperate as she felt.
"Five days travel, plus food, isn't cheap, sweetheart."
The Nikto eyed her in a way that made her want to punch him.
"Mirialan, eh?," he said. "Don't see many with your coloring. Mostly green ones. Maybe you and the Wookiee could work for me for a few rotations, and I can get your friends on a transport to the Outer Rim for a discount, say six thousand credits. You could join them when your terms of service are up."
Asharé opened her mouth to give a tart retort.
"We're done here," Dune said, stepping in front of Asharé before she had the chance to give the Nikto a piece of her mind.
Dune's hand closed around her wrist and her pulled her away from the booth. She was surprised Dune had stepped in. His presence in the Force was still colored by anger and he hadn't addressed her directly since the discussion in the medbay. Asharé shook herself free.
"I'm capable of standing up for myself," she muttered.
Dune shot her an unreadable look but said nothing.
Asharé picked up Liri from where the little Twi'lek stood next to Kiri. This was the fifth ship they'd inquired about passage on, and for one reason or another, all had been unacceptable. The last rays of sunlight colored the horizon. Asharé was debating on returning to the Seeker for the night—a dangerous proposition if the ship had been reported missing—or looking for a place to spend the night in the city. Which would further deplete their store of credits.
"Shouldn't we report him to the authorities?" Binah asked, hitching Zaig higher on her hip. "He's exhorting passengers."
Normally, Asharé would have agreed, but the last thing they needed was to be detained by the local authorities to provide statements that such a charge would bring.
"Now's not the time," she said.
"But the other passengers," Binah protested.
"Binah, we're not peacekeeper or Jedi now." The words nearly stuck in Asharé's throat. "We're refugees."
Binah brooded. "It's not right."
Kiri put a hand on her head and growled comfortingly.
"We've got a tail," Ripp said.
Asharé cast a look behind them but there were many people on the street. She stretched out with her senses and located a couple of Weequays who were far too interested in their group.
"They've got blasters," Dune said.
"Bick't," Asharé swore. "Follow me."
She led the way down an alley. If the Weequays were looking for trouble, and Asharé had to pull her lightsaber, she didn't want the whole spaceport knowing about it.
"Why don't we ever seem to follow Kiri?" Ripp muttered.
"Because I'm the oldest," Asharé said, throwing the trooper a fierce grin.
"She's older than me by four days," Kiri said, via EM-6. "And always reminding me."
Dune took something out of his carryall and handed it to Ripp.
"Alright!" the heavy gunner said softly, checking the charge on the little holdout blaster. "It's not my Z-6, but it's better than nothing."
They rounded a corner and were temporarily hidden from the Weequays' view. Dune and Ripp passed their carryalls to Hart, then knelt behind a couple of rubbish bins.
"Head up the alley," Dune said. "We'll take them out."
Hart held out his left fist and Ripp tapped Hart's wrist twice with his own.
"Kot," the clones said in unison.
Hart hesitated for a second, clearly waiting for Dune to repeat the action, but the ARC kept his attention focused back the way they'd come. Hart sighed and started away from his squad mates. As Asharé turned away, she saw Dune tap his own left wrist twice and saw his lips move.
"Why aren't they coming with us?" Tana-Di asked from her perch in Kiri's arms as they started up the alley again.
"They're going to protect us from the bad men," Binah answered.
"The bad men want to hurt us?" Poli asked.
"Yes," Binah answered again.
Hurt us, enslave us, rob or kill us, Asharé thought silently.
In the lead, Hart stopped and turned around. Asharé looked back too. She couldn't see Ripp or Dune, hidden as they were by another bend in the alley. The Weequays must have been getting close. She stretched out through the Force . . .
. . . and felt two lives snuffed out, a second before the heard the blaster discharges.
She gasped and staggered back against the alley wall.
"Asharé?" Hart inquired, moving to her side.
Kiri growled a question.
"I was reaching out to assess the situation when the Weequay were . . . um, hit," she said, making an adjustment to the last word.
Liri stared up at her with big, trusting eyes. Asharé didn't want to scare the younglings any more than they already were.
"It was . . . unpleasant," Asharé said inadequately.
Footsteps came up the alley toward them, and Ripp and Dune appeared from around the bend.
"There was a Trandoshan with them, but he hung back," Ripp said. "He got away. Probably calling reinforcements."
That decided things for Asharé. The Nikto and his goons were a problem now. If anyone was coming for the Seeker and its remaining passengers, that was a problem for later.
"We're going back to the Seeker. We can hole up there til morning, then look for another transport heading to the Outer Rim." She shot Ripp a look. "That okay with everyone?"
"Fine with me, al'verde," he replied, a teasing note in his voice. "You're the oldest."
I'm going to regret ever bringing that up, she thought to herself. "Don't call me commander," she said aloud.
The clones shared a look.
"They know this place better than we do," Dune said to no one in particular. "They'll probably have the way behind and ahead of us cut off."
"We'll have to blast our way through," Ripp said with a grin.
"Maybe," Asharé said, thinking hard. "The Trandoshan has to wait for reinforcements to arrive, or risk us overpowering him. If we run, maybe we can make it out at the other end of this alley, then circle back to the Seeker without having to engage them."
"Let's do it," Hart said. "I'd rather not take the adike into a firefight."
Asharé nodded. "Binah, give Poli to Kiri."
The younglings were shuffled around until Kiri had Poli and the Twi'lek twins, and Hart had Vash and Tana-Di.
"Ripp, you watch our backs. Dune, you take point. If there's a fight, Binah, you get Hart, Kiri, and the younglings to the Seeker. Use your lightsaber, and keep everyone alive, alright?"
Binah took her lightsaber from her carryall and held it tightly in her hand. She looked frightened but determined.
"I'll stay with Ripp and Hart, if it comes to a fight. We'll cover you so you can get away." She took a breath. "If we don't make it to the ship by morning, I want the three of you to take the younglings to Kashyyyk. See if Kiri's family can help you hide."
Binah looked ready to protest, but Hart spoke first.
"Kiri and I'll keep everyone safe, al'verde."
Kiri chuffed his agreement.
"Thank you. Let's go."
Ripp and Dune jogged next to Hart, whatever lay between them temporarily forgotten in the face of battle. She heard all three murmur, "Kot, vode," before Ripp and Dune took their assigned places. Asharé took her lightsaber from her carryall and stretched her senses ahead of them. So far, the way seemed clear. As they ran on, Asharé felt a growing itch between her shoulder blades. Someone was watching them. They rounded another curve in the alley and saw the lane open up into a street.
"I think we beat them," Binah panted.
"No," Asharé said, slowing, then stopping as her senses picked up several auras ahead. "We didn't."
The others stopped and looked at her in confusion.
At least fifteen people were arriving at the mouth of the alley on speeders bikes.
So close, she thought.
She tossed her carryall against the alley wall so it wouldn't encumber her during the fight.
"Kiri, Binah, Hart, against the wall with the younglings. Dune, Ripp, with me. When you see an opening, run for the Seeker."
"There are more coming up behind us," Kiri said through EM-6.
Asharé nodded. She'd felt them too, but they were not a threat just yet.
"What do we do?" Binah cried. She sounded on the verge of tears.
"Focus, Padawan," Asharé snapped. Then, more gently, "Calm your mind. You have lives to protect."
Binah took a gulping breath and closed her eyes, visibly relaxing.
"We know you're in there, pretty lady," someone called from the street. "Send the little blonde girl out with the younglings. I promise we won't hurt them. Then you and the Wookie."
Asharé walked to the mouth of the alley and took measure of the thugs. There were several humans and Weequays, the Trandoshan, and three Nikto. She recognized the one she'd talked to earlier.
"What about my men?" Asharé asked, indicating Ripp and Dune.
The two clones stood on her left and right, slightly behind her.
"They owe us blood," the Trandoshan hissed.
The others coming up form behind were closing. Asharé needed to punch through the men in front of her before their reinforcements arrived. She took a breath and felt the Force fill her, sharpening her senses and honing her reflexes. She couldn't allow any shots to get past her. The clones didn't have their armor, so she'd have to be their protection.
"How about you just let us pass unmolested and no one else has to die tonight?"
She ignited the azure blade of her lightsaber and heard the thugs gasp.
As if that were a signal, Ripp and Dune each dropped to one knee and began firing. Two Weequays and a human went down before the others could even bring their blasters up.
Asharé sank into the flow of the battle, neatly deflecting blaster bolts as the clones took out more of the thugs. She sent one of the ricochets into the engine block of one of the speeders, and it went up in a brilliant explosion which threw several thugs to the ground.
"Binah, Kiri, Hart, go now!" she yelled.
Instead of compliance, she heard Binah scream.
Spinning around, Asharé saw a man drag Binah into a doorway. Kiri and Hart disappeared after her with the younglings. Asharé turned back to the battle, deflecting a blaster bolt aimed at her back.
Sithspit!
"Fall back," Asharé ordered.
She kept her eyes on the thugs, protecting Dune and Ripp as they backed into the alley again, heading for the doorway where the others had disappeared.
"Shift yourselves," a man's voice called from the darkness beyond the door. "Their reinforcements are almost here."
Asharé brushed the man with her extended senses, recognizing him as the watcher from earlier.
"Ripp, Dune, go!" she said.
The clones darted through the door.
"You too, Jedi," the stranger said.
Asharé sent two more blaster bolts back toward the thugs and heard someone cry out in pain. She scurried through the door and heard it hiss closed behind her.
"Don't stop," the man said. "Get on the ship."
She deactivated her lightsaber and ran, the man keeping pace at her side. She could see Ripp and Dune ahead of her, and on the ramp of a Corellian YT-1930 light freighter, Binah and Kiri, urging them on. Asharé breathed a sigh of relief. She pelted up the ramp behind the clones. The man who'd rescued them closed the hatch, then hurried down the corridor, presumably to the cockpit.
"Dune, go with him," Asharé said, her voice shaky.
The trooper nodded and jogged down the corridor.
Asharé was having trouble catching her breath. There wasn't enough air in the corridor.
"Not now," she whispered, pacing. "Not now."
She clipped her lightsaber to her belt and shook her hands out, trying to slow her breathing, but that only made the lack of air seem more real. Her whole body started to shake.
"What's wrong with her?" she heard Binah ask.
[Asha, sit down,] Kiri said.
His familiar voice helped a little, grounding her, but then the ship lurched as it took off, and Asharé crashed to the decking. She curled into a ball, shaking violently.
She could feel them, all of them, their emotions hammering at her senses; Binah's bright panic, Ripp's effervescent need to do something, Kiri's steady calm, Hart—
"Don't t-touch me!" she cried through chattering teeth as the medic knelt at her side. "I'll be f-fine." She managed to meet his worried amber eyes. "D-don't let the younglings s-see this."
Hart looked up at Kiri helplessly. "What do we do?"
The Wookiee shook his head whined. "We can't do anything," EM-6 said. "We just have to wait it out."
"Kiki?" Vash's little voice said from up the corridor. "Shasha?"
Binah grabbed Ripp's arm, towing him toward Vash. "Help me distract them," she said.
"Ah, kriff . . ." Ripp muttered, but went with her.
Kiri moved to Asharé's side and folded his tall form into a seated position.
"Is she having a seizure?" Hart pressed.
"It's a reaction from her time as a commander in the war," Kiri said, shaking his head.
"So, she did fight." Hart had suspected as much when she'd recognized the Mando'a word for commander. But she'd been adamant when they'd all first met that the clones shouldn't address her as commander. "What happened to her?"
"It's her story to tell," Kiri said. "Ask her later."
Between them, Asharé was starting to shake less and her breathing was evening out.
"She'll need to sleep for a while," Kiri said. "Would you mind asking the captain if he has a bunk we can borrow?"
Hart nodded and rose, making his way to where he hoped the cockpit was. He passed the lounge where Binah was telling a story, and Ripp was juggling three of the younglings in his lap. Hart grinned and wished he could snap a holo with his helmet cam. No one from their company would believe it. Hart's chest constricted at the thought of his missing brothers. He hoped they were all okay. He continued down another corridor which led to the cockpit.
The viewscreen was filled with the with the blue-white eddies and whorls of hyperspace. Dune sat in the copilot's chair staring down the barrel of a blaster pistol.
"Uh, did I miss something?" Hart asked as he stepped into the room. He raised his hands to show he was unarmed.
"You're clones," the man who'd rescued them said. "I've been hearing bad things about clones the last couple of days. Things like clones killing their Jedi generals and commanders." He looked from Dune to Hart. "You three planning to murder that nice young woman out there?"
"No, sir," Hart said. He recognized the tone of a superior officer in the man's voice and responded to it. "She saved us, and all of us are just trying to get somewhere safe."
"Saved you, huh? Sounds like there's a story there."
"Yes, sir, there is. But that nice young woman, Asharé, had some kind of reaction after the fight and needs a bed."
"Is she alright?" Dune asked.
Hart nodded. "Kiri thinks she'll be fine, but he said she needs rest." He looked at the captain. "Do you have a bunk she could borrow?"
The man stood, keeping his pistol leveled at Dune, but looked at Hart. "You have a blaster?"
"Not me."
"The blonde girl or the Wookiee?"
"They're both Jedi," Hart said.
The man's eyebrows shot up. "Huh. Didn't see that coming." He shoved the pistol into the holster at his side. He gestured for Dune and Hart to precede him. "Lead the way, gentlemen."
Hart started back the way he'd come. They met Kiri by the lounge. He was carrying Asharé in his arms. It looked like she was out cold.
"Turn around, turn around," their rescuer said. "The bunk room's back that way."
He pushed past Dune and Hart and led them to a medium sized room with three double bunks.
"There aren't enough beds for all of you, but I figure you lads can make yourselves comfortable in the lounge. Put her here."
He pulled back the sheet on one of the lower bunks, then got a blanket from a cupboard as Kiri laid Asharé down.
Dune pushed Hart back out in the corridor. "What happened to her?" he whispered fiercely.
"Kiri would only say it's a reaction from something that happened to her in the war." Hart studied his squad mate. "Why are you so concerned? You didn't have three words to say to her earlier."
Dune pressed his lips into a thin line and didn't say anything else.
"Di'kut," Hart growled, and slugged Dune in the shoulder.
The ARC nearly took a swing in return but stopped himself. Hart almost wished he hadn't. Dune needed to work something out, and if he needed a good fight to do it, Hart would oblige him. Although, given the choice, he'd rather Ripp and Dune battle it out, since someone would have to put the combatants back together afterward.
Kiri and their rescuer came out of the bunk room and stopped at the tension in the air. The man stepped into Hart's and Dune's personal space, forcing them to look at him.
"My name's Orn Northcut. The Bastion is my ship and I won't tolerate brawling, got that soldiers?"
Hart stood straighter at the command tone in Orn's voice. "Yes, sir!"
Dune didn't answer right away. Orn turned his full attention on the ARC.
"Do you understand, soldier?"
"Yes," Dune replied.
"Good." Orn clapped the two troopers on the back. "Let's see if the younglings are hungry, then send them to bed. We need to have a little chat."
The younglings all claimed to be starving so Orn asked Binah to accompany him to the kitchen to see what they could rustle up. That left the clones to deal with the younglings.
"You still have your holdout blaster?" Dune asked Ripp.
"Yeah, but the charge is gone."
"Give it to me."
Ripp handed over the little pistol then sat on the floor. "How's the commander doing?"
Liri sat in the heavy gunner's lap and took one of his hands, playing with his fingers and humming to herself. Zaig jumped on Ripp's back, swinging his little feet back and forth. Ripp seemed completely unfazed at his new status as a plaything. Vash had claimed Dune as per usual, which left Hart with Poli and Tana-Di. He'd had to coax Tana-Di to join them. He felt sorry for the adiik; torn from her family and thrust into violence.
"Asharé's resting," Hart said. "I'll give her a quick exam once she wakes up."
"That was . . ." Ripp gave himself a shake. "I thought Jedi were invulnerable. Isn't the Force supposed to make them . . . invincible or something?" His voice dropped. "She fell apart like a shiny after his first battle."
"She has some kind of battle trauma," Dune said.
Hart nodded. "There's a deeper reason she doesn't want us to call her commander."
Further conversation was forestalled as Orn and Binah returned with protein bars for everyone.
"Sorry," Orn said as he passed the bars around. "Apparently I don't have anything fresh in my cupboards, so it's processed food all around."
There were groans from everyone, but no one turned down the protein bars.
Tana-Di took the bar Orn handed her, then abandoned Hart in favor of Binah's company. They ate in relative silence, since no one seemed to want to discuss anything too serious in front of the younglings. When the bars were eaten, Orn nodded to Binah.
"Alright, younglings, it's time for bed," she said.
There was a chorus of complaints, but after a little coaxing, most of the children followed Binah toward the bunkroom. Vash was still seated on Dune's lap resting in the crook of the ARC's arm and looking like he was half asleep already. Orn raised his eyebrows at Dune, then tipped his head in the direction Binah and the younglings had gone. A clear indication that Vash should follow.
Dune sighed. "Time for sleep, Vash'ika." He set the boy on his feet but kept one hand on his shoulder as Vash swayed.
Kiri stood from where he'd been sprawled on a couch and held out a hand to Vash.
Vash shook his head and grabbed Dune's leg.
"Doo," the little boy cooed, looking up at the ARC.
Ripp snickered.
"Be right back." Dune rose and picked up the youngling, carrying him under one arm like a sack of grain.
Vash giggled and kicked his feet, then stuck his arms out like wings. The sound of "Doooooooo . . ." followed them out of the room.
Kiri chuffed with laughter as he sprawled on the couch again, one arm thrown over his eyes. Hart didn't think the Wookiee would stay awake much longer. They were all pretty tired.
"Well, that was just adorable," Orn said, moving to sit at the holotable.
"Kids been trailing Dune like his shadow for about two weeks," Ripp said.
He and Hart joined the captain.
Orn hmm'd and didn't say anymore until Dune returned.
"So," Orn said looking at Hart. "The Jedi saved you, did they? I'd very much like to hear the story."
"Before we get into that," Hart replied, "what do you mean to do with us? Why did you let us on your ship?"
"Most people sneaking around the freight docks at night are looking for trouble," Orn said. "You lot had kids, and for a minute there, I thought you were slavers."
Ripp let out a growl.
"That was cleared up quick enough," Orn said waving his hand dismissively. "When I realized you were in trouble, I decided to help. For the younglings' sake, and then for the Jedi's."
"Still, seems kinda risky, letting a group of strangers on your ship," Hart said.
"I'm a pretty good judge of character. Otherwise I'd have left you to the thugs back on Vicondor. So, you going to tell me how the Jedi saved you?"
Hart looked at his squad mates. Dune was back to playing disinterested, and Ripp just shrugged. For some reason he couldn't explain, Hart had a good feeling about Orn. He decided to trust him.
"You seem to know that there's something going on with the clones and the Jedi."
Orn nodded. "I like to keep my ear to the ground."
Hart laid out the story for him with Ripp inserting comments here and there. Orn didn't ask questions, he just seemed to be absorbing everything they said.
"That's quite the tale," Orn said once they were finished.
"It's true," Ripp said, slamming his fist down on the table.
"Simmer down, lad. I didn't say I didn't believe you. It's just a lot to take in."
"We only want to get somewhere safe," Hart said. "Somewhere the Republic won't find us."
"Empire," Orn corrected.
The clones gave him a blank look.
"Chancellor Palpatine has declared himself Emperor Palpatine. The war is over. Welcome to the Galactic Empire, lads."
Hart felt like he'd been sucker punched. The Republic had been what he was fighting for. It was the reason he existed.
"Sorry to kick your legs out from under you boys."
He rose and went into the kitchen, then came back with four glasses and a bottle of some deep blue liquid.
"Paloley brandy," Orn said, pouring out a small measure into each glass. "Friend of mine makes it." He lifted his glass. "To the Republic. And may the old gods save us from the Empire."
As Orn knocked his brandy back, Hart lifted his glass and took a tentative sniff. There was a hint of something fruity. He took a small sip . . . and nearly choked.
Before he could warn Ripp, the heavy gunner knocked his drink back as Orn had. He choked, managed to swallow, then went into a coughing fit. Dune didn't bother to touch his drink.
Orn chuckled. "Guess you boys don't drink much."
Hart cast him a wry look as he patted Ripp on the back. "Alcohol wasn't one of the approved food groups, no."
She stood on a beach, white sand crunching under her boots. Her lightsaber hilt held loosely in one hand, deactivated. She lifted her face to the sun, closing her eyes and enjoying the warmth.
"Commander?"
For a moment, she ignored the voice. He was patient. She knew he'd wait as long as she needed him to. The soft susurration of the waves against the sand lull her into a peace she hasn't felt for too long.
"Al'verde?"
She reached out her hand and felt leather slide over her skin as his gloved fingers curled around hers.
"Zyr, we can stay here a little longer, can't we?"
"Of course, al'verde." His hand tightened on hers. "Just let me know when you're ready to go back."
She opened her eyes, looking at the towering coral reefs above the azure ocean. The coral seemed to touch the sky in arching multicolored branches.
"They're so beautiful."
She turned to her companion.
Horror gripped her at the skeletal face that stared back at her from the shattered plastoid helmet. A gaping hole in his chest armor revealed putrefied flesh hanging from the ribs underneath.
She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out.
"What's wrong, commander," the grinning skull said. "Forgot I was dead?"
Asharé woke to find her own hand clamped firmly over her mouth, a scream stuck in her throat. She took a couple of deep shuddering breaths before letting her hand fall to her side. She hadn't thought of Zyr in months. Zyr and Sweep Company. Just the names made her eyes burn with tears and her breath start to hitch.
She sensed Binah and the younglings in the room with her, their minds still and quiet in sleep. Not wanting to disturb them with her nightmares, Asharé rolled silently off the bunk, taking the blanket with her, and crept out of the room. Once in the hallway, she could hear the low murmur of men's voices, and followed the sound to the lounge. The man who had rescued them, and the clones were sitting around the holotable. Kiri was sprawled on a couch in the corner, sleeping. Their carryalls were in a pile next to the door, and Asharé was glad to see someone had grabbed hers as well.
Asharé watched their host for a moment. He had auburn hair and brown eyes. She estimated he'd be a little shorter than the clones when he was standing. His frame was fit and trim, and she guessed his age to be early to mid-forties. His aura was calm and assured.
Ripp, Hart, and Dune seemed agitated about something, but before she could delve too deeply into the emotional atmosphere of the room, their rescuer looked up and noticed her.
"Good to see you up." He smiled. "Your boys were worried."
The clones leapt to their feet and said in unison, "Commander."
At least they hadn't saluted. Asharé tried to ignore the way her breath caught in her throat when their host called them 'your boys.' It only brought up more painful memories. She forced a smile instead and approached the table. Hart pulled up another chair, placing it between himself and Ripp. Asharé's smile turned more genuine at the protective gesture. Although if they kept it up too long, she was going to smack them.
"What did I miss?" she asked, sitting.
"This is Orn Northcut," Hart said. "Orn, this is Jedi Knight Asharé Phrin."
"Call me Asharé, please. The Jedi Order no longer exists."
"I'm sorry to hear it," Orn said. "I knew a few Jedi, and the galaxy will be darker without them in it." A pause. "The lads were telling me you all need a safe place to hide. I happen to know such a place."
Asharé perked up. This seemed like the first bit of good news she'd had in days. "Can you take us there? We don't have much in the way of money . . ."
Orn steepled his fingers in front of him. "Hart mentioned you'd come to Vicondor on a ship. I don't suppose you'll be needing it anymore."
"It's a Republic . . ." She stumbled over the word, recalling Master Kenobi's message that the Republic had fallen along with the Jedi Order. "It's a Consular-class cruiser. I don't know if you want to be associated with it though. If the ship gets reported as missing by the other clones who were with us—"
"Let me worry about that," Orn said. "I have people who can clean it up, get it new papers, and sell it."
"If you feel you can handle it, then it's all yours."
She felt a ripple through the Force of some emotion from each of the clones, to varying degrees, but their faces were impassive.
It's probably their armor and weapons, she thought. But we've already decided they can't keep them with us.
Orn stuck out his hand and Asharé shook it. "We're settled then," he said.
"What's the planet like where you're taking us?" she asked.
"It's a lovely little colony world called Zilmaris."
Orn, the Jedi, and her troopers talked for almost an hour. Well, he did most of the talking, telling them about Zilmaris, and the community Midge had set up there. When they'd all finally retired for the night—Asharé back to the bunk room, and the clones on bedrolls in the lounge—Orn headed to the cockpit to place a holocomm to Midge to let her know about her new guests.
When the colony leader's lovely face filled the screen, Orn smiled.
"Hey'a Midge," he said.
"Hey yourself, you old nerf herder."
"I see you're your usual, cheery self," Orn teased her.
It was a longstanding game between them; name-calling and banter to mask the flirting. He was willing to play since it allowed him the pleasure of her company.
"I'm bringing you a surprise, Midge m'dear. Some new residents, to be exact."
Midge frowned. "Orn, you know I have to approve anyone before you drop them off on my planet."
"Oh, trust me, you'll like them. There's two Jedi, a Padawan, five younglings, aaand . . ."
"And what, Orn. I don't have all day."
He grinned at her. "And three clones."
Her reply was immediate and forceful. "No. No way! I came out here to escape the war. So, did everyone else here. You are not bringing those soldiers, those killers, to my world."
Orn was a little taken aback. He'd known that Midge and her colonists had fled the devastation of the war, but her reaction seemed excessive.
"You do know the clones were fighting for us, right? Besides, they're . . . retired. With the current state of the galaxy, they're as much refugees as anyone on Zilmaris. The Jedi will vouch for them."
"I'm not so sure about the Jedi either," Midge said. "You've heard the Emperor's claim that the Jedi Council tried to kill him. If the Empire finds out we're harboring Jedi on Zilmaris, or clones, you think they're going to care that they're 'retired'? I've got people to think about, Orn. You can just get in the fancy ship of yours and fly away from any trouble."
It was Orn's turn to frown. Her last comment stung. "Midge, these are good people. Young people; if any of them is over twenty standard years, I'll turn in my pilot's license. They just need a place to feel safe again. They need a home."
Midge sighed and scrubbed a hand across her forehead. "You always did know which buttons to press. Fine, bring them. But if they cause any trouble, I'm sending them back with you on your next supply run."
"Fair enough. You're the boss, Midgey."
She glared at him, but he could see the corner of her mouth turned up in a smile.
"See you in a few days, Ornery," she retorted and signed off.
Orn chuckled to himself. Midge was indeed a fine woman.
He sat back in the chair and considered his next call. Considered the implications of four bodies in the refrigerated hold of the Seeker. His uncle's facility could handle it; a few bodies weren't hard to make disappear. His thoughts were more for the people who had cared for the dead ones while they had been alive. And then there was Dune's request, made is hushed tones after the others were gone or busy. Orn fingered the piece of flimsi the ARC had handed him.
He placed the call to his uncle.
"How do you feel about overhauling a Consular-class cruiser?" he asked when his uncle's face appeared on the screen.
Mirialan:
Bick't - Cuss word
Mando'a:
Kot - Strength
Al'verde - Commander
Adike - Little ones
Vode - Brothers
Di'kut - Idiot
Adiik - Child aged 3 to 13