Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to George Lucas/Disney. Anything you don't recognize probably also belongs to them.
Barter
Luke woke to the sound of feet and chattering voices. He jerked up to a seated position with a curse which immediately turned into a pained hiss as he moved his stiff muscles.
'Apparently I'm never going to be very good at meditating without accidentally falling asleep,' he mused to himself wryly as he slowly stood up and stretched out his aching muscles. At least he had managed to sleep without dreaming for once, and he felt oddly refreshed from his - he paused and looked at his chrono then winced - two hour long nap. For a moment he was surprised that no one had found him before then, but was reminded they had probably all been at lunch when his stomach complained loudly.
"Whoops," he shook his head at himself and turned to head across the hangar to rectify the situation, shouting a greeting at the other pilots on the other side of the large space. With quick steps he made his way towards the entrance the others had just come through and into the winding halls. He wended his way through the complex tunnels deciding to bypass the mess hall in favour of going directly to the kitchen since the food in the hall had probably already been removed given the late hour.
When he reached the entrance to the kitchen he palmed the panel beside it and the door slid up allowing him to slip into the loud and rather chaotic room. Steam billowed in one corner of the room where reuseable culinary devices were being cleaned making the air humid. Luke dodged his way through a crowd of bustling droids and walked towards the refrigeration unit, stepping deftly over a mouse droid that nearly careened into him as it sped across the room. He huffed in amusement as he reached for the large door handle with his cybernetic hand and pulled it open with a smooth motion that strained his shoulder and elbow slightly. The hand itself might be strong, but it was limited by the joints in both locations, something he was grateful for.
He stepped inside the large unit and quickly found what he figured he needed to make a sandwich and scooped it all up in his arms. With the items balanced precariously he used his hip to open the door with a sharp bump. As the door swung open the Force pulsed a warning and he reflexively snapped his foot out to catch the door with his ankle, jarring it. As his thoughts caught up with his actions he realized that the door had been mere moments away from hitting another sentient.
In the same moment he registered it was a Bothan, the being looked up from a datapad and startled so badly it dropped the device.
"Oh Sith, I'm sorry," he said immediately, unable to catch the device with his hands full, and so distracted he didn't notice his own choice of curse.
The being blinked slowly at him and he realized it was the same female from the meeting the day before. Her nostrils flared and he felt irritation seep out of her, "Some Jedi YOU are. Forcing your will on people. Cannot even detect a person a few metres away. Not even able to make a Jedi's weapon. What use are you? The Hope of the Alliance? Bah!" she finished, her words heavily accented in her anger, and her voice bitter. She stooped over to pick up her holopad and dusted it off with quick movements that telegraphed her irritation.
Luke winced at the verbal beratement and hunched in on himself, "Look, I wanted to say sorry for that after the meeting yesterday, but you left so quickly…"
"Sorry? HA!" The woman sneered at him, "Did you even think about what you were doing manipulating a sentient like that? Irresponsible! Ignorant! Cruel!" Her eyes narrowed into slits, "It is things like these that made The Republic fear the Jedi!" She prodded him in the chest sharply, "They were meant to be peace keepers! Protectors!" Her lip twitched in obvious disgust, "And yet here you stand, a warrior that killed millions from the safety of a cockpit, repeating those same mistakes. Imperials see us as terrorists you know. But you? Oh no, you are their mass murdering nightmare." She glared at him, her chest heaving from emotion, and Luke's mouth opened and shut, no words leaving him. He felt like he had been stabbed endlessly with his own fears and worries.
She must have seen something in his eyes because her eyes softened slightly, and with it her accent, "You have been the centre of many hopes, and many have already been crushed. You must always be aware of the consequences of your actions. If you do not it will only get worse, and that cannot happen. It is not fair, but as the Alliance's Jedi you are the only one that is able to be the people's hero. It is a heavy burden to represent hope, but someone always has to do it."
Luke felt a lump build in his throat and wanted to cry at the unfairness of it all. Instead he choked out, "I know. But the Death Star… I had to do that." He hunched in on himself as he tried to convince the woman as much as himself, "I had to."
The woman eyed him quietly for a moment and then her expression shifted completely into an amused exasperation as she crossed her arms and sighed, her anger evaporating as quickly as it had come as if it had never existed, "So easily you doubt yourself." She shook her head, "Whoever you trained with let you leave far too early." She quirked her eyebrows at him, "You must learn to accept what you have to do and avoid unnecessary actions." Her eyebrows lowered and she looked at him sharply as he stared at her gaping like a Mon Calamari, "A few nerves in front of a group does not warrant Force persuasion. That is an abuse of power. Alternatively, doing what is necessary to prevent further loss of life should not be questioned no matter how many enemies you make in the process." She continued on going through each of her previous accusations, "People will always fear anything they do not understand, and will always expect more out of heroes than they are capable of." She tilted her head, "That said, I do not enjoy having my emotions tampered with, and I have been trained to feel outside influence and subvert it somewhat," she smiled at him slyly revealing sharp feline teeth, before her expression turned serious again, "Most sentients do not have that sort of protection."
Luke stared at her blankly as his mind caught up with the sudden shift in the situation, "Wait… were you just playing Hutt's advocate with me?" he finally spluttered. She huffed through her nose and looked to the ceiling as if hoping it would give her strength to deal with his slow processing skills before she looked back at him with a nod. He looked at her in confusion, "But you actually felt angry."
She nodded again, "Yes, but I was angry about something else. I just allowed you to think that this is what I was angry about. If you can hide your true reason for your emotions under another reason, then you are safer from Force users that depend on that sense. It will not protect your thoughts however, so you must give as little reason for your thoughts to be read as possible. I am told that actually shielding the mind is much more complicated."
Luke walked over to a nearby counter and placed the food on top of it and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he tried to release all of his confused emotions into the Force with only slight success, "Do all Bothans undergo that sort of training?"
She shook her head in a negative, "Only if interaction with Force users is likely. My people are information brokers and spies. We guard our secrets with great care."
Luke looked over at her thoughtfully as he pulled out two slices of bread from a package before setting it in front of him, offhandedly wondering what planet produced purple grain. His eyes slit in suspicion, "Well that being the case you're being oddly forthcoming."
"Am I?" She said, more than asked, revealing that same pointed smile, "Maybe I just like you baby-Jedi."
His eyes flickered across her face, but he found nothing suspicious and felt nothing from her but amusement.
He didn't trust it for a second, "Or you want something from me," he stated calmly as he reached for a knife and began slicing a block of something that he assumed was cheese.
"Perhaps," she conceded, then canted her head to the side, her amusement unchanging. "You are not as innocent as you act, are you Lieutenant Commander Luke Skywalker of the outskirts of Anchorhead Tatooine."
Again a statement, and not a question.
Luke barely concealed a grimace. Dealing with this woman was like dealing with a dangerous mix of a junk dealer on Tatooine, and a bounty hunter with an innocent face; manipulative and fully capable to taking advantage of her looks to dupe even those who knew better, and loyal only to contracts and money. As a Bothan she didn't even have the usual self serving motives. From what he had learned of Bothese culture they were only loyal to their clans, and it was their main Council - a combination of representatives from the clans - that controlled the brokering of deals and information. He couldn't afford to appear weak again in front of someone like her if he didn't want to end up being used.
He drew in a breath through his nose and released it in a huff, settling his features into what he hoped was a calm expression as he placed the cheese on the slices of bread and began cutting thin slices off of a piece of meat. His mind was another matter he realized as he had very little success using the Force to calm himself. Coming to a quick decision he shoved his rampant emotions to the back of his mind with a practiced ruthlessness that remained from when he still had to deal with the various merchants, racers, gangsters, slavers, and general lowlifes that had occupied the town nearest to his homestead without some mystical field of energy to calm himself down. He knew even as he did it that he had been doing it far too often lately, and that it was going to all come back up to haunt him again in the future.
Aunt Beru had always said it wasn't good to bottle emotions up.
Luke stubbornly ignored the harsh wave of emotions that tried to rise at the thought and shoved them back too as he shrugged in response to the deliberate power-play that her information dump had been, while quirking his lips up in a slight smirk, "Looks like someone's been studying the personnel files."
If anything her smile grew more predatory, "Where do you think the Alliance gets its background information checks from if not the Bothans? I just happened to be the lucky one that got to check on the ignorant farm-boy that General Kenobi just happened to pick up. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the stepmother of one Owen Lars, your grandmother, was Shmi Lars nee Skywalker, ex-slave, and mother to one Anakin Skywalker, winner of the Boonta Eve Classic at age nine, Savior of Naboo, also age nine, and Jedi General and poster-boy of the Clone Wars. The Hero-With-No-Fear."
He placed the knife on the counter with a deliberate motion. Even with that action it took everything he had not to immediately demand to see the information she had found, his body already tensed to lung forward and shake her until she handed the file over or spilled the information. She knew more about his own father than he did, and that idea rankled in a way he hadn't expected. He spoke, his voice oddly calm despite the tempest that was his thoughts, "The command staff never said anything about this."
She eyed her claw tipped fingers nonchalantly, "Oh they don't know. They only asked for basic information, your arrest record for example. Seems you enjoyed your illegal skyhopper racing a bit too much."
Her comment momentarily distracted him from his thoughts and Luke scoffed turning back to finish working on his sandwich, "It was only illegal because it wasn't being sponsored by Jabba. Hutts don't like gambling that doesn't get them a cut."
She chuckled, the sound a low alto, "And how did you manage to get out of that?"
Luke felt mild surprise as curiosity radiated off of her, but deliberately went against his instinct to simply tell her. He doubted he would have many opportunities to negotiate information from the woman, and he would have to take advantage of this even if it went against his normally open temperament. The question was what he could get out of her for the information. His thoughts immediately jumped back to the file she had compiled and he wondered if the trade would work.
It was as good a place to start as any he decided. They could always haggle if it came down to it.
His pale blue eyes darted directly to her bright green eyes, oddly human despite her cat-like features, and he smiled, "If you let me see the information you've found and continue to find in relation to me and my relatives I'll tell you."
She burst out laughing, "Oh, you've got guts don't you? A story for Bothan intelligence, that's a new one." Luke felt his face grow warm as she continued, "Perhaps you are not as innocent as most would think, but you still have much to learn. Allow me to humour you. What does your story gain me aside from my curiosity being satisfied? Can I even use it? What do I truly learn about Luke Skywalker, the Empire's Bane?"
Luke forced himself not to react to the nickname that he had never liked and grit his teeth in frustration; of course it wouldn't be that easy to get the information. His eyes narrowed slightly and he mulled over what she said, "So you want information about me? To broker to whom?" he drawled as an idea began to form in his mind.
She shrugged noncommittally, "I've been assigned to the Alliance for now, so your bosses presumably."
"For now," he muttered with a scoff, reminded again how easily her loyalty could sway. "And how likely is it that you'll be leaving us in the near future and will sell the information to say, the Empire?"
It was her turn to scoff, "Your superiors allow me to know information related to the Alliance and you don't trust me?"
He raised his eyebrows, "I'm not quite that innocent. I don't know what deal your superiors set up with them, but I highly doubt it would cover this."
She grinned, giving off the feel of someone watching a pet perform a trick well, making him pause. This woman wasn't just someone he needed to be careful around.
This woman was dangerous.
"Don't worry, unless something drastic happens I've been assigned to the Alliance for the foreseeable future. Your information won't be going anywhere you don't expect it to go."
Not a direct answer, Luke noted, but he sensed it was all he was going to get from her, and Force, he really wanted that information. "If that's how it's going to be, then I have a proposition," he said with a forced determination.
"Oh? Let's hear it then," she grinned wider.
"So long as you have authorization to know about the missions I go on, I'll let you come with us on the ones you're qualified for. I'm not endangering others because you don't know what to do in a warzone."
She rolled her eyes, "You think my superiors would send me here if I did not possess the skills to function in the situations I might find myself in? If anything I may be overly qualified." Luke looked at her searchingly as she continued, "This is a much better offer baby Jedi. I may even consider it if it still comes with the story of your escape from punishment."
Luke looked at her warily, reconsidering his decision. If she was truly qualified to follow him into fights, then she would be able to study his fighting abilities and tactics in an active situation, along with those of his comrades. "Can you really fly an X-wing?" he asked, his voice deliberately skeptical.
"I flew an A-wing in the Battle of Golrath to help offer cover for the evacuees. You probably heard me a couple times on the group com-frequency, I was Green twelve. I also consistently scored an average of ninety-seven percent on the X-wing flight sims. I have other flight experience that isn't really relevant to this situation as well, but suffice it to say I know what I'm doing in a cockpit."
Luke looked at her as he tried to remember if he had heard any of her com-traffic when a thought came to him; she was a good ten centimetres shorter than him, and he was already considered short for a pilot as it was. "Really? I would have thought with your size…" he trailed off when he felt her irritation.
"It is hardly relevant in an X-wing whether my feet reach the floor or not. There are no foot pedals, and even if there were I have modified plenty of crafts to function with my height," she huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Now if we are done questioning my abilities can we reach an agreement? Or do you decline?"
Luke snorted, he was no stranger to being teased for being short himself, but apparently she really didn't like it. An odd thought given that she was tall for her species. She must have spent a lot of time around taller sentients he mused. Against his better judgement he relaxed slightly; she was dangerous, but something told him she didn't intend to do anything subversive for now.
He tilted his head, unconsciously mimicking her cat-like movements, "What's your name Miss Bothan Intel? If you're going to be travelling with us we'll need to know what to call you."
She tilted her head to the side, "Most people call me Iris."
"Most people? What's your full name than? I know your people consider your family and clan names to be important."
She smiled, possibly one of the only truly sincere smiles she had given him thus far, "Looks like someone else has been doing some research."
He shrugged sheepishly, "Just because I grew up on an isolated desert planet doesn't mean I should remain ignorant."
She laughed, clearly pleased, "That is a good attitude to have. Well Luke Skywalker, my name is Irys Arr'ojia," she said, the R rolling slightly, and the Y pronounced as a hard E making it sound far different from the Basic variant of her name. "It has been a pleasure doing business with you," she stuck out her hand to shake with a grin, as a wave of smugness radiated off of her. Inwardly Luke groaned in realization; she had apparently managed to get exactly what she wanted somehow. He shoved the thought to the side to deal with later.
"Hmm, Irys," he said, trying her name out as he stuck out his own hand and clasped hers in return, "Sounds better than Iris to me, what does it mean?"
Irys grinned at him and shook his hand, surprising him with the strength of her grip, "Guess you're going to be doing some more research into my culture baby-Jedi, I believe you have gotten enough information out of me for today."
Stronger than she looked.
Irys released his hand and looked down at the counter her accent and pronunciation shifted yet again to something closer to a native speaker of Basic, "So, you gonna eat that sandwich or what?"
He looked down and nearly palmed his face. He had completely forgotten where they were and what he had been doing, "Right…" he picked up the plate awkwardly and cleared his throat, "Um… raincheck on that story? I can tell it to you on the way to Allyuen or something."
He shifted uncomfortably until she nodded in agreement and spoke, "Don't let me keep you from your food, it's already late enough as it is. Besides, I need to pack. I've got a mission to get ready for now."
He nodded as well, "I'll talk to command to get one of the back-up X-wings prepped for you. You'll be flying with me and Wedge since we have an uneven number now."
"Not to mention there's no way you're keeping me from following you after our deal," she pointed out with a mischievous look in her eyes.
"That too," he conceded.
With that they exchanged farewells and she made her way through the slowly quieting kitchen as the droids finished up cleaning. He watched her weave through the room smoothly, pinpointing her movements as those of a warrior, as he finally took a bite of his sandwich. He grimaced and looked down at the oddly coloured combination. He would have to avoid the purple bread in the future, it was incredibly bitter.
Luke steeled himself and took another bite. He needed the nutrients, and there was no way he was making another sandwich. It had taken long enough the first time, and with his luck he'd get interrupted again, by Force knew what.
Lando Calrissian missed his wardrobe.
He had been living for several months now surrounded by drug addicts, sadists, bounty hunters, slavers, toadies, and the other general lowlifes that could always be found gravitating towards a hutt gangster's court, and yet somehow he still found that his chief complaint was how uncomfortable he was while wearing the garments he had been provided for his current job in Jabba's criminal empire: delivery boy.
It probably said something about him as a person.
At least they required that he be heavily armed whenever he left the hutt's domain he admitted to himself as he made his way back towards Jabba's Palace from a particularly seedy part of Mos Eisley. Everywhere he went these days was seedy, and the weapons were a comfort since they were the only things that kept him from being killed, or from being kidnapped and used for purposes that would have made him wish he were dead. Lando grimaced as he walked past a group of scantily clad sentients outside of a brothel, their species and presumed genders widely varied, though the glazed look in their likely drugged eyes didn't.
That was another thing that he had been forced to learn to live with: slavery. Before he had become the "honest" businessman of Cloud City, he had had more than his fair share of encounters with the practice, he had just never had to be as close to it as he was now. His current quarters were placed so close to the slave quarters that he was sure it was a reminder that he and the others he shared the space with were only one misstep away from becoming one of Jabba's slaves themselves. It was unnerving, and seeing the slaves come and go reminded him that he could not mess up because not only was Han counting on him, his own future depended on his ability to work his way up in the hutt's ranks without failure. He had to viciously shove down his moral scruples with the act of slavery itself over and over on a daily basis. There was nothing he could do for them, and he had his own mission to focus on. His own life to worry about.
Yes, he conceded. This mission was certainly teaching him more about himself than he had ever wanted to know.
As he closed in on the garage he had left his landspeeder in he turned abruptly and entered a different building, what was left of the sign over the door identifying it as "Public Communication Terminals" in Huttese and Basic. Doing his best to act like he wasn't checking the entire location for sentients that were watching him he strolled through the lobby to the time-worn desk and the rusting reception droid.
"How much to send a long-distance message?" he asked in carefully practiced Huttese. In this part of Tatooine it was less suspicious for him to use the Hutts' language than it was to use Basic, even if his accent gave him away as a non-native speaker.
"Twenty-five peggats," the droid's voice crackled and Lando nearly cringed. That was the equivalent of one-thousand Galactic Credits, and with his current salary (nearly non-existent) a nearly impossible fee, even supplemented slightly with the emergency money he had been provided for the mission initially. He was going to have to go without food for a few days to justify the use of his emergency funds to himself he realized. Not something to look forward to, but he had to send a message to the others.
Even so he raised his eyebrows and scoffed before continuing in halting Huttese, "Twenty-five? I look stupid droid? Maybe I scrap you. Fifteen peggats."
If the ancient droid had eyes to roll it probably would have. Lando was hardly the first sentient to threaten it he was sure, but haggling was part of the culture on the planet, "Twenty-two peggats."
Eight hundred and eighty credits, still not low enough. He scowled, "Eighteen peggats. Reception here is crap. Not worth much."
"Twenty peggats, final offer," the droid crackled.
Lando eyed the droid. Eight hundred credits, and probably the best he was going to get, "Fine. We have deal." He pulled his coin purse out from under several layers of itchy clothes reminding himself to move it somewhere else when no one who was likely to pickpocket him was watching, and carefully counted out the golden coins and handed them to the droid.
"You will be using terminal TT-23ME3612. You have twenty minutes," the droid stated dismissively and Lando turned and made his way to the hallway entrance in the back of the lobby, shoving the old and grimy piece of cloth hanging over the doorway to the side. He strode down the poorly lit hallway and when he reached the correct door he pushed it open, nearly knocking the piece of metal from its loose hinges in doing so. After he carefully pushed the door back in place he turned to the holocommunicator and frowned. Now came the hard part. He had taken a crash course on encoding holomessages from one of the members of the Alliance's many slicers, he just had to hope that it had stuck. He flipped a switch to turn the terminal on, filling the room with the low hum of machinery, and when the screen lit up he began following the steps he had been taught. He only had twenty minutes to set up the encoding, send the message, and break the encoding back down before erasing his history from the system and replacing it with something more mundane and expected.
He chewed on the inside of his mouth as he worked, forcing his nerves down in order to focus on what he was doing. After six minutes he nearly let out a cry of triumph before he quickly input the com-channel he needed to contact. Within moments he stepped onto the platform to send his message.
As soon as the recording light blinked he started, "Farmboy, Spitfire, Furball, I don't have much time. Progress has been slower than I hoped, this place is big, and unfortunately promotions seem to be based on money or ruthlessness. I've already done some things I'm not overly proud of, and it may have to get worse before I can get somewhere useful." He knew his expression looked conflicted about the prospect, but couldn't do anything about it, "I've seen our buddy and it's not good. He's right in the main room all the time, and the only time it calms down in there is when everyone is drugged out of their minds. Even then, I'm not sure I'd count on something like that. Not everyone here is an addict, and there are hunters passing through all the time. I've even seen the guy that gave our pal a ride here around quite a bit." He paused for a precious moment and swallowed harshly, "I've seen a lot of dead sentients these days. The big man keeps dangerous pets in his basement and likes to watch them from his favourite seat. I'm thinking about trying out guard duty. It'll mean I see more death, but at least it'll put me in the big guy's good books. He'll probably start me out at the gate since it's the easiest place to watch. Nothing comes here without being seen first. If I ever make it to the main room it would be a really good opportunity, even if I have to do a lot that I don't like to get there. If I ever get that far I'll be sure to let everyone know." He mulled over everything else he had learned in his time in the palace and decided he had conveyed everything useful for the time being and nodded. It would be up to the others to figure out what he had meant. He wasn't confident enough in his encoding ability to include anything more specific, "I look forward to seeing you all again. Be safe."
He quickly flipped off the record button and checked the chrono on the screen as he sent the message. He had eight minutes. Lando worked as quickly as he could, but even so he began to sweat as his nerves started to take hold. He managed to finish erasing the coding with two minutes to go and quickly wiped his history from the terminal. With the last minute he had he quickly recorded a pointless message and sent it to a dummy com-link that the Alliance had set up. Once he hit send he stepped back with a sigh of relief and moments later the terminal shut off on its own. That had been too close. He quickly wiped his brow and made his way out the door and back down the hall to the lobby before proceeding back into the streets without pausing.
He turned back in the direction he had originally been moving in and continued his trek back to the garage that Jabba owned. Once he retrieved his assigned speeder he would begin the last leg of his journey across the Bantha Plains and into the Northern Dune Sea where the hutt's compound rested strategically at the end of a long valley with nearly unscalable walls.
Lando rubbed his temples despairingly and wished he knew what in the Corellian Hells they were going to do to save the friend that he had doomed in the first place, before he chastised himself. He had a job to do, and focusing on how difficult this mission was turning out to be wasn't part of it. He needed to be worrying about how he was going to get promoted.
About how many sentients he was probably going to have to capture, torture, or kill to get there.
About how his conscience was going to survive this.
AN: So... I fell victim to Oh-My-God-The-Force-Awakens-Has-Taken-Over-My-Brain-itis and I had to take a bit to regroup and beat back the endless plot-bunnies that the movie spawned. I've been mostly successful (for now). No spoilers here, but that movie was freaking beast.
As per normal I remain un-beta'd.
Random Info:
- 10 cm. is approximately 4 in. for those of us who don't always use metric (I chose to because it's the most used measurement system across the world)
- Bothan names consist of a given name, and a two part surname. The first part is their family name, and the last part is their clan name (Given Family'clan).
- 1 paeggat is the equivalent of 40 credits (you will probably recall that galactic credits are not seen as acceptable currency on most hutt-ruled planets)