"This way," Sailens's voice is coming out of a ventilator mask covering the lower half of her face rather than the round droid Aaron was so used to seeing.
"Are you sure we shouldn't make excuses? I mean, that'd give us a bigger head start…" Aaron pulls the Imperial military cap down over his eyes.
"We're political targets. The suspicion that we've been kidnapped will leave them spinning their wheels longer than any excuse." She stops and stands on her tip-toes, trying to see over the cargo crates and loading docks to read the flight numbers on the ships. Sailens seems to find what she's looking for, because she's pulling on his wrist again.
"How do we know we can trust this ship captain? What if he brings us right to Rencarn or Sa'alle?"
"For two people trying to run away, you sure are running your mouths."
Aaron freezes and turns his head until he sees a tall, red-haired human with an eye patch covering part of his face.
"What are you doing here? You said you would meet us-"
"Now, now, Cassie. Don't get your robes in a twist. Your dad is waiting for you, there, but anyway, the hanger's all Darth Vallen's men. They don't see you or me or anything as far as Sa'alle and Rencarn are concerned." The man holds up his hand to stifle anymore protests. "But you should be hurrying on before the slice on the cameras runs out." The stranger pulls on the edge of his eye patch before ushering them into a old, but well-maintained cargo ship.
"Who are you?" Aaron asks, once they're safely inside of the airlock.
"Captain Sebastian. You two can make yourselves at home; this isn't a short flight." Sebastian dusts off the arms of his leatheris jacket and then starts making his way into the cockpit.
Aaron steps forward, Force cracking in the air around him. "That didn't answer my question."
The captain doesn't even turn around to address the remark. He just waves one hand over his shoulder. "Then I guess you haven't met Octavian."
"Listen here, you-"
Sailens grabs his arm. "Aaron. Enough. He's my uncle. Trustworthy, but far too blasé for my tastes."
"I know what I'm doing, Cassie. I've had far more dangerous jobs than shipping two little mice away from the nexu." With that, Sebastian seals the cockpit door behind him, leaving Aaron and Sailens loitering in the hall.
Aaron scoffs and huffs at the closed door, but eventually takes his wife's hand and walks with her through the ship until the find a sitting room. He slumps onto the couch and Sailens sits next to him.
He puts his arm over her shoulders. "Are you sure this is necessary?"
"Yes." She lifts a hand and fingers the mask. "The only way to be free is to live as civilians until they give up on using us for their machinations."
"Civilians? You mean get jobs? Why can't we just-" He waves his hand, palm out. "You know, to get money."
"And risk leaving a trail of sorcery behind? That would open us up to our masters and the Jedi."
"So what will we do? Work in a cantina? We both know you're too proud for that. You embody your Sith legacy." He laughs. "You? Serving?"
"If it keeps you alive, it is worth it."
Aaron sighs. "It's too late to change our minds, anyway."
He's back. Sailens's annoyance rips through Aaron's head. He pauses mid-pour and rubs his temples.
Stryder? He asks. He looks up from the bar, but he doesn't see the blond, scruffy menace. The Blinking Star Cantina and Lounge has the usual mix of aliens and humans, even a single, highly polished Mandalorian, but no Stryder. Aaron frowns and picks the Corellian brandy back up to finish the pour.
He's here with the Mando'ad. Drunker than usual, as well. I've no idea what he hopes to accomplish. Her voice is a hiss in his head.
Another waitress, obviously to their mental conversation, takes the brandy from Aaron and scuttles across the cantina, shaking her hips in a way Aaron guesses is supposed to be attractive. The truth is that is just looks sad. Aaron wipes down the bar and wishes they didn't have to work these degrading jobs.
Lord Aucht's voice echoes from his memory. The shielding relics won't hold up under intense scrutiny. Working in a cantina, a casino, that's your best option. It's the places Jedi are least likely to spend a lot of time… And it'll have to be low class to keep the Sith out."
He mutters to himself, "I think there's such a thing as too low class."
"The prince will have the usual Alderaanian wine. Nothing for his metal friend." Sailens rolls her eyes and leans against the curved counter while Aaron pours the wine.
"You let me know if he does anything… untoward." The Force crackles around Aaron when he says the words and he takes a breath to try and conceal it. I could just kill him and have his eyes off you forever.
Sailen flips her long, red hair over her shoulder and doesn't respond to either of her husband's comments. She busies herself with preparing a tray for the mustached buffoon. When Aaron sets the glass on the tray, Sailen answers silently. I wouldn't dignify him with the effort.
"Now wait just a hot minute, Cerar, my credits are good." Stryder says to the Mandalorian when Sailens walks up to his table.
The Mandalorian is having none of it, however, and shoves away from the table and to his feet in a single motion. "Not good enough for my clan's time, wretch." He nods his T-visor at Sailens before clanking and clunking out of the cantina.
Meanwhile, Stryder is lolling in his seat and none too bothered that his acquaintance just left. "Oh hey... yeh are lookin' goooood."
"And you are looking like I need to have the bouncer carry you out." She sets the drink down, wine splashing up against the sides of the glass from the force. "Will that be all?"
"Nah." He leans forward, as if trying to put his face between her legs and looks her in the eye while obviously licking his lips. "Wanna make some extra credits?"
"I would not protest if you tipped me for everyone else's drinks." Her expression is deadpan.
Aaron snickers behind his bar rag, but quickly covers it up with a cough when a regular seated at the bar raises a curious eyebrow.
"Not like tha'. You know..." Stryder makes a gesture that's probably supposed to be suggestive.
"Sorry, I don't speak vague hand gestures. I'm also quite certain you'd be sorry if I did." She looks over her shoulder to Aaron. She rolls her eyes. Honestly.
Stryder doesn't seem all that deterred. "Oh c'mon, y'know wha' kinda place this is. Tha' Twi..." A vague flip of his hand towards one of her co-workers. "... she went fer it."
This time she rolls her eyes at him directly and turns away to return to the bar and her husband, but he's far too drunk to get the hint, making a uncoordinated grab for her arm.
Aaron sighs and steps out from behind his counter.
Sailens doesn't even look, just slaps his hand away with her empty tray. "Don't touch me, you wretch."
"Hey, yeh can't hit me. Customer is always righ'! And stuff!"
She raises one hand in a rude gesture and still doesn't turn back to him. "Not a policy here."
"I think it is. I think I coul' get yeh fired if'n I..."
Aaron's beside Sai by then, angry and impatient. He keeps his hands tightly at his sides, but Stryder suddenly starts gasping for air.
Sailens pretends not to notice and keeps walking. Aaron doesn't say anything, just Force chokes the life out of the man until he slumps against the table.
Looks like he choked on something... shame.
Terrible shame. Can't imagine how it happened.