Past Relations
- Zaalbar -
"I'm bored, Big Z. Ain't no way that stuck-up Jedi is telling me what to do." Mission had folded her arms, and her expression was contorted in the stubborn petulance of youth. Although I had expected this reaction from my young friend, I had hoped for more than a mere ten minutes peace. The others had only just departed.
"(Mission, we have been asked to stay on the Ebon Hawk)," I reminded her. I looked over to Jen, sitting on one of those soft brown benches that were not deep enough for my comfort. The human woman was engrossed in a datapad, reading an electronic journal from the Ebon Hawk's meagre digital library. "(And you promised Bastila Shan that you would stay behind)."
"Only so she'd stop harping at me." Mission looked disgruntled. "I had my lekku crossed."
"(Mission!)" I growled. "(A promise is sacred)."
Jen looked up at that, startled, her eyes falling on me before dropping back to the datapad. She was not easy around me, despite our life-debt, and this behaviour was new along with her personality. I did not like it. I found myself wishing for the reckless Jen of old. This one smelled false, and I could not explain why I felt that way. I should be content that Jen was not willing to run blindly into danger anymore.
"Uh uh," Mission disagreed. "Like that prissy ronto-face would've let me go. A promise ain't worth nothing if it's forced, Big Z."
I stared at the Twi'lek cub and realized she was right. Sometimes, Mission came up with wisdom well beyond her years. While Bastila Shan may have had admirable reasons for wanting Mission to stay behind, my young friend would not see a promise made under duress as a worthy one to honour.
"'Sides, Zaalbar, this is Tatooine! Sheesh, I didn't really think much about where we were goin' at first, y'know? Everything's been so crazy and bad but… but, I'm actually on Tatooine!"
I frowned. I did not know anything about this place, other than what I had heard onboard. A smuggling destination covered in deserts. I did not think I would particularly like it. "(You know of this planet?)"
Mission smiled at me. It was the first smile I had seen since we entered Davik Kang's stronghold, and it warmed my heart. Her light brown eyes were crinkled with excitement. "Griff used to talk about setting up a trade route between Taris and Tatooine all the time." Her grin widened, and then she sniggered. "He had this insane idea 'bout importing live chuba from Tatooine and deep-frying it as a delicacy to the Upper City snobs."
Mission rarely spoke of her elder brother, and it surprised me that she would now. I had never met him, as Griff Vao had abandoned her on Taris shortly before we met. Although she did not think of it as abandonment, I recalled. She blames his mate instead.
Regardless of whose fault it had been, the end result was the same: a young Twi'lek girl left alone on the streets of the Lower City, with only the dubious protection of a swoop gang who thought her talents were useful.
We had both been fortunate to meet each other.
And now, our lives were tied to Jen Sahara. When I thought of the destruction left behind on Taris, I understood how very lucky Mission and I had been, to meet up with Jen and escape when we did. I glanced over to the human again, and wished I knew a little more about her.
During our brief hyperspace journey, Jen had assured Mission that she was fine, and that Bastila was helping her. I understood that Jen had a commitment of some kind to the Jedi, but my worry was not alleviated. Something has happened to her, and she is acting like someone else. Mission was convinced it had to do with Bastila Shan and the Force, but I was not so certain. My people knew much of the Jedi and the honourable way they acted. I found it hard to believe that the young Jedi would be responsible for Jen's affliction.
I lowered my voice to a faint rumble. "(Mission, I do not wish to leave Jen)."
I saw Mission's face set with determination as she, also, turned to look at the human. "Jen," she said, catching her attention. "Come for a wander into Anchorhead with us?"
Jen pulled her attention away from the datapad briefly. "Uh, no, thank you. I am happy reading."
There was a dark scowl on my young friend's face. "Come on, Jen! Have you ever been to Tatooine before? Let's go have a look around!"
"I- I told Bastila I'd stay here." Jen's voice was quavering.
"Where's your sense of adventure?" Mission retorted. "You're the one who conned me into going to the swoop race!"
"(What?)" I growled. Jen conned Mission?
A bewildered expression passed through the human's face. "I- I did? I did. It- it all seems a little hazy."
"What's Bastila doing to you?"
Jen's mouth dropped open. "S-she is helping me!"
"Helping you turn into someone with the brains of a Gamorrean and the backbone of a gizka!" Mission snapped, her headtails twitching in around her neck. Mission's temper was a flashpoint, bright and fiery before dying away. I could tell it was still rising.
"No," Jen said, shaking her head. "No."
"(We are worried about you, Jen Sahara)," I rumbled quietly. "(I am sure Bastila is helping. But you have not been well, and you are acting like someone else)."
Jen had dropped her head into her hands, and was mumbling quietly. I did not think Mission could hear the words, but a Wookiee had more sensitive hearing than most sentients. "I am Jen Sahara. This bond isn't real. I am not hearing her say anything in my head-"
"(Jen?)" I barked as my fur began to stand on end at her strange words. Her head jerked up, and a dark maelstrom of emotions had clouded her piercing green eyes. She stared at me, brows lowering, and for a moment I wasn't sure if she recognized me at all.
"It'll be fun," Mission wheedled. "C'mon. We won't be long, and Bastila doesn't even need to know!"
Jen's gaze flicked to the Twi'lek, and I recognized the roguish expression as it crossed the human's face. "Okay," she agreed, and I almost shouted in relief. To think I would be glad to see that reckless look again!
"Wizard!" Mission stood, hopping with delight. "I'll just go grab some supplies – I'll be right back!" She darted out of the common room towards the cargo bay, and I frowned, wondering exactly what my mischievous young friend was after. I would have followed her, had I not caught the worried look cross over Jen's face.
"(You cannot back out now)," I warned her. I almost desired for Mission to drag Jen into trouble. Anything to shake her out of this foreign identity encompassing her.
Jen nodded, and glanced away. Mission took longer than I expected - considering her enthusiasm - and I was close to leaving Jen again when the Twi'lek rushed back in. She had a smile on her face that I could only describe as wayward, a bag slung over one shoulder, and her arms full of vibroswords. She handed one to both of us, and Jen took hers hesitantly.
"(What did you do?)" I asked, frowning, still dwelling on the suspicious length of time she had taken.
Mission beamed. "Gave Teethree a couple of orders, that's all."
"(Orders? What orders?)"
"Just in case the others try to buzz the Ebon Hawk on their wrist-comms, Teethree's gonna patch 'em a message that we're all having naps."
"(We will not be long, Mission)," I told her severely. A walk outside would do Jen Sahara good, but I did not discount Bastila Shan's warning about this area. And the thought of disregarding a Jedi's orders did not sit well with me.
Innocent wide eyes appraised me. "Gee, Big Z, you sound like you don't trust me!"
She flounced out of the Ebon Hawk, and I could only follow.
Bright desert sunlight hit my vision as I exited the ship, along with a wall of suffocating heat. I had expected the high temperature, but it was still a sharp contrast to the air-conditioned Ebon Hawk. It took a moment for my vision to adjust to the harsh light.
"Teethree, lock the hatch behind us, okay?" Mission spoke through a device strapped on her wrist, and I realized she must have also visited the cockpit to retrieve a communicator. She shot me an impish grin. "Wouldn't be smart to leave the ship open to anyone, right?"
No. It would have been foolish in the extreme. And neither I nor Jen Sahara had thought twice about leaving the ship empty apart from an astromech droid with no orders, I realized with chagrin.
I looked around as I stood on the loading ramp; the Ebon Hawk was docked in a large, walled off area that was open to the elements. There were a few market stalls set up around the perimeter, perhaps half a dozen clustered near a large archway in the wall that likely led to the township. Several freighters were stationed on either side of the Ebon Hawk. Sentients dressed in the white and brown uniform of Czerka Corporation stood in the shade of the tall walls, and I found myself glaring. Czerka was a galactic spanning commercial entity with an underbelly as foul as the Exchange. I had no time for anyone affiliated with them.
"Here," Mission said in a bright voice, having opened her pack to pull out two visors. I noticed one resting on top of her head. "I was having a look at what gear Canderous was taking before. I kinda figured he'd had a good idea of the place, y'know?" She was grinning at both of us.
The contents of the cargo bay had been a surprise, and I had not yet finished opening all the crates. It was mostly armour and weapons, all fairly standard, but it had been the quantity that had surprised me. I wondered if that crime lord had been planning a violent trip somewhere.
I struggled to fit the visor around my head, and eventually gave up, giving it back to Mission in disgust. My eyes had already adjusted, but it made me think about the requirements of our crew and what supplies we had onboard. If we ended up staying on the Ebon Hawk longer than planned, I might be able to modify a combat suit to fit Mission. I had often spent time with the Hidden Beks, patching up broken armour, and seemed to have a talent for it.
Both Mission and Jen were looking around the sandy docking bay; the former with a delighted expression on her face. This is her first time off-world, I realized. I was glad we were going for a short explore. Perhaps Mission needed this as much as Jen.
Mission's face brightened as she spotted the archway that led out of the docking bay. With a grin toward us both, she jumped off the Ebon Hawk's loading ramp and began walking. I felt a trickle of sweat down my neck, and grumbled softly. As I followed Mission, I noticed that the few sentients walking amongst the docked ships all wore loose clothing over their entire body, topped with head-cloths for protection. It would not do for us to stay outside in the elements long. Not dressed as we are.
Mission was already at the spaceport exit, chatting to a local Paaerduag, those strange creatures with two heads. The larger head was saying something to Mission in a tongue I did not recognize, with one arm gesturing towards the entrance in the wall. I looked ahead, and could see a few buildings visible of what must be Anchorhead. From here, it did not look large.
"Okay, thanks!" Mission gave him a wave as we walked through the entranceway and into the unfamiliar town. We were on a sandy path lined with stalls that were made from crude tents – no more than thick sticks and pieces of cloth or hide. Above us draped large pieces of lightly-coloured tarpaulin, roped tight between the stalls on either side of us.
Although the heat was still intense, the shade provided by the cover did offer a respite. Not much further ahead were more permanent buildings made from some form of plaster or ferracrete. Overall, the entire place was much less technologically advanced than Taris and with far less people. If it had not been for the temperature, I would not have minded being here despite my earlier reservations.
"(What did the Paaerduag say?)" I asked.
"No idea," Mission giggled, looking over to me. Her eyes were dancing with delight, and I was so glad to see my young friend happy. "I asked him where the cantina was. I think he understood me, but I guess he doesn't speak Basic. Say," and her voice turned speculative, "Jen, did you catch what he said?"
Jen had been walking behind us, and we both turned to look at her. Her face was pale, and her eyes wide. She raised an arm to point further down the path. "The cantina's over there. First building on the left after the market stalls."
"Great!" Mission turned back and started on her way again.
"(Are you alright, Jen?)" I asked. She gave me a shaky nod, but her expression said otherwise. I was not one for pushing, but perhaps I would have questioned her further had I not realized how fast Mission was walking. I huffed, and strode quickly after my young friend, with Jen's stumbling steps following me.
We entered the cantina and I was immediately glad for the drop in temperature due to some form of air-conditioning. There was a faint haze of unpleasant cigarra smoke near the ceiling, and no windows at all. The walls had the odd holo-picture hung up, and the first one I saw was a Czerka advertisement for hunting equipment. Jaunty music played softly from suspended speakers, and in the centre of the room was a floating bar staffed by an Ithorian. I saw a look of despondency pass through my young ward's face.
"(Mission?)" I questioned softly.
She smiled brightly; falsely. "I'm fine, Big Z. I just – ha! I just expected to see Sancha behind the bar, is all."
"(I am sorry, Mission)," I said hopelessly. I was not good with words.
"Nah, I'm okay, really." She sniffed. "Though if I ever get the chance, I'm gonna pay back those scummy Sith back for what they've done."
"(Do not say that! You do not know who might hear)," I growled at her in warning.
Mission shrugged at me, and I almost had the feeling she didn't care. She turned back to survey the room, walking closer to the bartender who was serving a drink to an older, heavily equipped Twi'lek male. He wore combat armour, and had a vibro-staff strapped to his back, along with at least two visible blasters on his hip.
"Hi!" Mission greeted him, having already strode toward the bar and claimed an empty stool next to the Twi'lek. I kept a wary eye on him and followed cautiously. Whoever this Twi'lek was, he looked combat-ready.
There were very few other people in the cantina, and none of them seemed particularly interested in our arrival. Jen, standing next to me, bit her lip and walked over to Mission's side.
"(Why, hello there)," the older Twi'lek replied in his native tongue. "(Can I help you?)"
"My name's Mission. I'm new here, and was wondering if you could tell me a little about Anchorhead?"
The Twi'lek turned around to scan the room at that, his gaze only briefly touching on Jen before landing on me. I saw his eyes widen slightly in surprise, and then flick back to Mission. "(Welcome to Anchorhead, Mission. My name is Komad Fortuna, and I am a hunter from Fazza's Lodge. What is it you wish to know?)"
He seemed friendly enough, the old hunter with the golden skin; and his headtails were looped around his neck in a relaxed manner. Although I did not understand the full nuances of the Ryl language, I had spent years around Mission Vao and Zaerdra Leno and could glean the basics of their mood from their posture. Komad was not at all wary of us, and seemed disposed to friendliness. I found myself relaxing.
"Um," Mission hesitated. "Don't suppose anyone plays pazaak here?" She looked around the mostly empty room, crinkling her nose. "Guess not. Any swoop racing on Tatooine?"
"(Only illegal races. You would have to travel to Mos Eisley for the organized runs)."
"(Mission,)" I grumbled. "(We are not swoop racing)."
Komad Fortuna turned to me as I spoke, but he did not look like he understood, and faced Mission once more. "(There will not be much in Anchorhead to engage someone of your age, I suspect. This town survives on hunting and mining. It is also not the safest place these days)."
"What d'ya mean?"
"(The natives attack anyone who encroaches on what they perceive to be their territory, which – these days – is getting closer and closer to Anchorhead. They have recently dug another foothold into the dunes only five klicks away from Anchorhead, and the Czerka-hired mercenaries have been unable to shift them. I think it may be a new clan declaring their territory)."
"Sounds like a rough place," Mission commented, and I growled softly in agreement.
"(It can be)," Komad agreed. "(I am sure you have a good reason for being here, but I would not dally if I were you.".
"What are these natives?" The question came, surprisingly, from Jen, sitting hunched up on Mission's other side. Komad leaned forward to answer her.
"(They are called Sand People, or Tusken Raiders. They are vicious, mindless monsters)."
"Oh," Jen replied, and at Mission's enquiring look, mumbled softly, "I studied a little on them, being the indigenous people of Tatooine. They have lived here for millennia. What is surprising about them is their technology has never really progressed. Water is sacred to them."
Komad snorted. "(Water is sacred to everyone on a desert planet. It is true that the Sand People target moisture farms first, but here in Anchorhead they seem to be more prolific. They are trying to drive us out)."
"Huh," Mission replied. "Guess we won't be heading out into the desert then."
"(I would not recommend it, no)." Komad replied. "(You would need to purchase a hunting license from Czerka to exit the main gates regardless, and there is nothing out in the desert other than predators and Sand People, and the odd sandcrawler that gets attacked three times a day).
"Hunting license?" Mission asked. "What, you mean we have to pay Czerka to leave?" Her voice rose in indignation, and I huffed in agreement. Mission was not fond of Czerka, although I could believe that may have been my influence over the years.
Komad chuckled. "(It is not as unfair as it sounds, my young friend. Czerka hire mercenaries to keep the nearby desert clear of predators and Sand People, and they run the hunting trade through Anchorhead. There is no effective government in this small town, and if it were not for Czerka this place would have disappeared years ago)."
"(Czerka Corporation is nothing but a greedy excuse for profit at any cost)," I rumbled in discontent. It pretended to be an affable commercial entity, exporting and importing goods from planet to planet, but I knew better. Czerka Corporation tried to get its evil fingers into every place they could, and strip the indigenous people of their culture, resources and rights.
"(I do not understand your furry friend, but allow me to elaborate)," Komad said, after nodding at me briefly. He seemed like a most unflappable person. "(Czerka run Anchorhead for profit, I do not deny that. And they have no respect or understanding for the honour of hunting. But they do allow us off-world goods, relative safety, and the ability to export the resources on Tatooine. Although I must admit, things have been turning for the worse, lately)." He sighed, and took a large drink from the glass the bartender had placed in front of him earlier.
"The Sand People?"
"(Amongst others. The hulak wraids – they are predators common to this area – are being slaughtered systematically and we cannot find the source. They are important to the ecosystem on Tatooine, so we always make sure to hunt them sustainably – yet I am finding numerous corpses very close to Anchorhead. The deaths are puzzling. Only krayt dragons hunt wraids, and this is not the work of a dragon)." Komad sighed. There was a discontented look on his face. "(And worse, one of the Czerka mining groups returned yesterday, having been soundly beaten by the Sand People. Two miners and a Czerka rep were captured)." Komad's gaze travelled to the far corner of the cantina, then, where a Twi'lek woman sat hunched over a large drink. "(My partner grieves, for one of them was a man she used to care for dearly. The Sand People are known to kill those that they enslave if a ransom is not sent to them within days)."
"That's- that's awful," Mission gasped, and Jen echoed her. "Why doesn't Czerka send someone after them?"
"(They may yet, but they are not obliged to. I am afraid that all Czerka employees sign a waiver for cases like this. I would like to mount a rescue operation myself, for my dear Lena's sake, but I cannot risk it by myself, and no one else is keen to take on the Sand People without remuneration)."
"(Horrible corrupt parasites)," I growled. "(Czerka Corporation cares for nothing but money)."
"Lena," Mission muttered, and I turned to her in confusion. She was staring at the darkened corner of the room, where Komad Fortuna's friend sat, head bowed. Mission stumbled backwards off the stool, barely catching herself against a nearby table. Her face had paled in shock. "Lena Torand?"
Mission's voice had risen in volume enough that the few sentients in the place, including the disconsolate Twi'lek woman in the corner, all took note. I did not know the name Mission called out, but it was obvious by the way the woman was walking closer to us that it belonged to her.
The Twi'lek woman had pale golden skin, her face was heavily covered in cosmetics, and her headtails waxed and decorated in beads and leather braids. Her lips were a full red that was not natural, and her heavily lined eyes were red-rimmed with grief.
"Mission?" the Twi'lek whispered in Galactic Basic as she came within earshot. Komad Fortuna glanced between the two of them, as surprised as I was. "You- you made it to Tatooine, after all? I guess you've heard about-"
"Yeah, I made it here alright. Guess you thought you'd never see me again, huh?" Mission's voice had changed, snarly like a bad-tempered cub's, and I tensed in reaction. I did not know who this Lena was, but I had been enjoying seeing the enthusiasm back on my young friend's face, and it was gone now.
"What- what do you mean? Griff always told me he would send for you- is that why you're here? Did that good-for-nothing Hutt-spawn finally patch you some credits?" Lena folded her arms in irritation, but it did not look like it was directed at Mission. I straightened in surprise as I realized that this Lena Torand must be Griff Vao's mate. Although it does not sound like this is still true. I had never understood that. On Kashyyyk, Wookiees would mate for life.
Mission gasped, and it was an angry sound. "Don't you dare start trashing my brother, you slimy cantina rat! You're the chuba-face who told Griff I couldn't tag along!"
Lena took a step back before the clouds of anger descended on her face. "It's moments like these that I remember why I am better off without Griff Vao." Komad Fortuna had stood, also, and was resting a supportive hand on Lena Torand's arm. I wondered if she had transferred her affections to him, and felt a soft growl begin in my chest. "Mission, I offered to pay for your ticket. I didn't want to leave you alone on Taris, but Griff persuaded me that you refused to come. I see now that the dishonest coward duped us both."
"You liar!" Mission yelled. "Keep it up and I'll smack you so hard that your headtails will pop off!"
"(Please, this is not the time for angry words)," Komad intervened, his voice calm and low. "(We are all upset here, but this does no one any good)."
Lena sighed, rubbing her forehead with one hand and leaning against Komad. "I don't wish to quarrel with you, Mission. Especially now. I'm sorry, I guess Griff must have told you we moved to Tatooine."
"What?" Mission spat. "Griff only messaged me once from Corellia, years ago. He said you didn't like his kid sister dragging him down."
Lena stared at Mission in silence for several loaded seconds before closing her eyes. "Honestly, Komad, I don't know why I'm even upset that he's-" Her eyes snapped back open, and a frown creased the woman's forehead. "So, wait, what are you doing in Anchorhead, then? Do you- do you even realize where he is?"
"Why would I know where he is? You're the scow who's kept me from him all these years!"
But Lena was looking back at Komad, and her expression was torn. I did not think that Mission's anger affected her greatly in her current state. Komad had said she was grieving over the loss of one of the Czerka employees.
Oh no. My stomach turned as if I had consumed a week old wasaka-berry pudding.
"(Mission)," I said softly, but did not know how to say the words.
"I am sorry, Mission," Komad Fortuna spoke haltingly in Galactic Basic. His arm had tightened around Lena, whose face was pressed against his chest. "Your brother was the Czerka employee taken by the Sand People yesterday."
"What?" Mission snapped. "What?" Jen, who had remained silent through the exchange, gasped and took a step closer to her. "No. No, you can't mean that!"
"Czerka won't do anything," Lena said, her voice muffled against Komad's chest. "I begged them, but they claim it's too dangerous. There's not enough mercs in Anchorhead right now to mount a rescue mission. There's nothing anyone can do."
"No!" Mission cried. "What, you're just going to leave him there? To- to be killed by some native monsters? No!"
I placed my paw on her shoulder and could not stop a mournful howl. Mission's face was pale and tight as despair filled her light brown eyes. After Taris, this just seemed too cruel.
"The Sand People stronghold is new and not very large, it is true," Komad said, his voice low and serious. His bright blue eyes were focused sadly on Mission. "They often leave their bases relatively unguarded, and I would consider a rescue attempt myself if I had the help of half a dozen seasoned mercenaries. But I do not."
"Big Z," Mission hissed, whirling around to face me. "We have to go after Griff. He's my brother!"
"(Of course, Mission. Family is important. But we should talk to the others-)"
"Komad, would you strike out with us?" Mission turned again, speaking over me, her light brown eyes intent on the older Twi'lek. "I mean, Big Z is ace at fighting, and you should see Jen in action. I can fire a blaster, too. We'd be able to get Griff back if we all worked together!"
Komad was solemn, and Lena pulled back to shoot Mission an incredulous stare. Komad sighed. "I am sorry, young one. While I admire your bravery, and I do not doubt the abilities of a Wookiee, I will not rush into danger with the odds stacked so heavily against me. I am afraid your brother is on his own."
Mission looked wildly between Komad and Lena, both of whom stared at her sadly. She sniffed once, twice, and then burst into loud sobs and ran from the cantina.
I groaned in despair and hurried after her.
xXx
"(Mission)," I complained for the tenth time, as she handed me a gourd of water she had just purchased. "(Would you please answer me?)"
Mission had always had a big heart. She was always prepared to do anything for those she cared about. And there was no one, it seemed, she cared for more than the older brother who had abandoned her in the Lower City.
"You ready, Jen?" Mission called, ignoring me yet again. We were in an equipment store, and Mission had spent the last hour ensuring we were all clothed appropriately for desert travel. If it had not been for the dire news of her brother, I would have dragged her back to the Ebon Hawk and spent the rest of the day scolding her. For I knew where those credits had come from, and I did not believe either the Jedi or the Mandalorian would be particularly happy when they discovered what was missing from the cargo bay.
But worse than Mission taking credits from the Ebon Hawk was the idea of Mission traipsing into the desert. Her first step had been to flounce into the Czerka office and purchase a hunting license. I had not even understood what she was doing until it was done.
"I guess," Jen said, winding a head cloth around her head awkwardly. "Um. We're not leaving the town, are we?"
"(Mission. I will not let you go into the desert alone. The others will aid us. We must go back)."
"Guys. Griff is my brother." Mission said, and her jaw was set. "I ain't leaving him."
"Family is important," Jen whispered. "But- the others- they are strong warriors-"
"Stronger than you, Jen?" Mission snapped. Jen flinched, her expression twisting with a confused helplessness that seemed more at home on a starved cub than the woman I had sworn my life to. Meanwhile, Mission's scowl simply deepened. "Look, there's no harm in having a scout around Anchorhead, and checking we got the right gear, okay? That's all I plan to do today. Then we can go back and get the others to help. But it that snooty Jedi tries stopping me-"
Mission glared ferociously at me before storming out of the shop. I loosed a huff of breath, and followed her reluctantly. Family was important. As important as honour. I had forsaken mine, and Mission was the only family I had left.
I would do my best to reunite her with her brother, but we had to even the odds somehow.
We were closer to the exit of Anchorhead now, and food stalls were parked on either side of the main path through the town. My stomach grumbled, and I realized I had not eaten for some time. The food synthesizer onboard the Ebon Hawk was satisfying but not particularly tasty. I found myself eyeing over one stall that was selling burnt meat on a stick. It looked like a barbecued tree-frog.
"Hotsa chuba," Mission whispered, looking in the same direction. Tears filled her big brown eyes. "That's what Griff wanted to import, y'know. He showed me pics on the HoloNet. He gets the dumbest ideas." She sniffed, and looked away.
"(We will go after him, Mission)," I said softly.
She gave a small nod, and then started walking. Two steps later, and Mission halted suddenly in front of me. "Oh, bantha crap!" she hissed. "That's Bastila up ahead!"
I followed her gaze, and saw three figures in the distance talking to a guard by a set of large automatic gates. They were dressed differently from earlier but there was no mistaking them. Bastila Shan was in discussions with the gate guard, gesturing authoritatively. Three large packbeasts were standing calmly next to Carth Onasi.
"Quick! Go in here!" Mission whispered, motioning us towards a sandstone building whose entrance was visible between two market stalls.
"(They look like they are just leaving Anchorhead)," I said, having followed her inside. Much like the cantina, this store also had air-conditioning, and it was a relief to have a break from the sweltering heat. We had stumbled into a droid store; broken robots and parts littered the small room, and a line of identical protocol droids were stacked up against the back wall. There were a variety of utility droids in various states of disrepair, and one was wheeling through the centre of the shop to whistle at us in welcome.
"What is this? A customer Yuka Laka doesn't recognize?" I heard a voice speak in halting Galactic Basic, and looked up to see an old Ithorian shopkeeper at the end of the store. "Ahhh, an off-worlder perhaps? Maybe you would like a utility droid to keep your starship repaired?"
"Not interested," Mission replied, turning back to stare at the exit with a frown on her face.
"You must have a reason for entering Yuka Laka's store," the Ithorian continued. "Maybe you need a protocol droid? Yuka Laka has plenty of basic models that can translate in thousands of different dialects."
"Sheesh, what would we need a translator for? Jen speaks every language we come across." Mission rolled her eyes. Jen, who had also entered the store, looked highly uncomfortable.
"Oh," the shopkeeper said dolefully. "Yuka Laka has a droid for every purpose, though. Yuka Laka wonders whether this Jen can speak Sand People dialects."
"Look, I'm not interested, okay?" Mission snapped, and strode back toward the shop's exit. I began to follow her, but she stopped, one step from the exit, and turned to face the Ithorian once more. A speculative look was dawning on her face. "Hang on, did you say Sand People dialects?"
"Yes," the Ithorian confirmed, and rubbed his hands together. "This is not one of Yuka Laka's normal droids, no, this is the special of the month! This is a one-of-a-kind protocol droid that is also combat ready. You have not seen any droid quite like that, Yuka Laka is sure of it!"
Mission shot me a look, frowning. "Big Z," she whispered. "D'ya think we could bargain with the Sand People for Griff's life? You heard what Komad said about ransoms."
I stared at her silently while my mind was whirling. It was not a bad idea. "(Mission, we should talk to the others first. The Mandalorian is a tough warrior. Carth Onasi is a great shot. And Bastila is a Jedi. I will not let you do this without their aid."
"Okay, okay, already! I said it before, Big Z, let's just check out the desert so we know what we're getting into. We can think about how we're gonna get Griff later." The despair had gone from her face by now, chased away by determination. Mission would not be left behind, I knew. "I'm gonna get this droid, Big Z."
Reluctantly, I nodded. This shopkeeper has also said the droid is combat ready. That means we have another ally for any danger we meet. As Mission walked away to haggle with the shopkeeper, I looked around for Jen.
She was standing in a dim corner of the store.
Talking to a humanoid robot the colour of tarnished fire, whose red eyes glinted in the darkness.
xXx
