They chat idly while they traverse the vast sand dunes of the desert. They finally reach the city.
"Lets check the small dealers first. Draw less attention to ourselves, if we can."
"Right," Rex says.
The walk a ways, then enter a shop. A blue Toydarian greets them.
"We're looking for a protocol droid, astro-mech, and some parts," Starkiller says.
He hands the Toydarian who he assumes is the owner a data-pad with a shopping list.
"The parts- we have," the Toydarian says with a gravelly, slightly accented voice. "The droids- well, lets have a look."
The Toydarian leads them into the back where there's a massive pile of junk. He points to a a few droids piled on top of each other.
"Those are in the best condition," he says.
Starkiller moves in to examine them. He clears away a few that are not even close to operable, then he comes a across a badly damaged astro-mech of a make that he doesn't recognize. It looks nearly identical to the astro-mechs that he's seen before, but the sensor "eye" is triangular, and red, with an even redder triangle around it, contrasting with it's light gray paint job.
"Which line is this?" Starkiller asks.
"R-7," the Toydarian says. "Not the newest, but definitely not obsolete. You have a good eye, Outlander."
It looks mean. Starkiller likes it.
"It's seen better days," Starkiller says.
Upon further inspection, the damage seems mostly superficial, except the power core.
"Power core's fried," Starkiller says.
But that's okay with him, he was planning on replacing it anyway.
"I'll give you a discount on a power core, barely used."
Starkiller nods.
"Should work. What about protocol droids?"
"I only have one, and it'll cost you."
"Where is it?"
He takes them back inside, and hovers proudly in front of a display. The droid is pretty much what you would expect from a protocol droid, though it has no covering.
"A TC-Series. Top of the line. In almost perfect working order."
"Almost?" Ahsoka says.
"Yes, well, it has a few... Shall we say, kinks."
"Hardware or software?" Starkiller says.
"Software," the Toydarian answers. "Sometimes his linguistics program malfunctions, and he speaks the wrong language."
"And you have all the parts I'll need?"
"Oh, yes."
"Good condition?"
"Condition varies on price," the Toydarian says with a smirk. "Now, how will you be paying for this?"
"Lets figure out a total before we discuss payment, shall we?"
They haggle as one would expect in an establishment like this. The Toydarian trying desperately to rip off his customer as much as possible, and Starkiller not having any of it. He knows what the droids, and parts are worth. He haggles the Toydarian down to a more manageable number- still too high, but manageable.
Starkiller reaches down into his pocket, and places a bundle of cash worth what the items should cost, plus fifteen percent on the counter in front of the suddenly silent Toydarian.
He counts the bills, then looks at Starkiller.
"Deal," the Toydarian says. "But it will take some time to get these parts together."
"That's fine. Can you tell us where we can find speeders?"
The Toydarian gives them some basic directions to a few different shops that sell good conditioned vehicles, and warns them which shops to stay away from. They head to the closest shop. Starkiller eyes a few of the speeders, then eyes the merchant selling them.
"Not here," he says.
They leave, and start heading for the next place.
"What was wrong with that shop?" Rex asks. "The vehicles appeared in good order."
"I didn't like what I sensed from the merchant. I think his vehicles are stolen."
They get to the next shop, and find it much more to Starkiller's liking, though he wasn't expecting to find anything so high-scale. Every surface is shiny, and spotless. A very well dressed, gray haired, human woman greets them kindly.
"Are you looking for something specific?" she asks.
"Something fast," Starkiller says.
The woman smiles. She leads them to a long row of pristine speeder bikes. She guides him to the end of the line, and motions to the two on the end.
"These are some of the fastest that we have, quite stable, and agile too."
He steps in for a closer inspection. They are definitely different from any that he's seen before. Shorter than most speeder bikes with a beautiful black paint job with metallic white accents. There is a large, black sphere on the front, and the back, almost like two large wheels.
"Those are both repulsors," the woman says.
Starkiller nods, and examines the shapely body, long, and oval with a curved opening on the side that he can see the inner turbines through. He looks at the woman as if to say may I?
She nods, and Starkiller straddles the bike, placing his hands on the handle bars. Oh, yeah.
A few more unnecessary minutes of looking, he buys both of them, and pays her asking price- cash- no haggling. They weren't cheap either, but he figures that he can spare the funds. He also buys some carts with tractor beams, so they can haul some cargo.
"Is there anything else that I may help you with?" the saleswoman says?
"Yes, ma'am," Starkiller says. "I'm looking for a good tailor."
"Oh," she says with a big smile. "I can definitely help you there."
She tells them of the most sought after tailor in the spaceport, and tells them to mention her when they get there. Starkiller thanks her, and they head outside, with their new speeders.
"I'll think one of us should try, and find the city's food market, and pick up some things," Rex says, standing next to Starkiller, and Ahsoka on the side of the road.
"Are you volunteering?" Starkiller says.
Rex nods.
"I'm not sure we should split up," Starkiller says.
"It will save time," Rex says.
"Go ahead, but call me if anything happens."
"Yes, Sir."
Starkiller straddles one of the bikes, and Rex straddles the other. Starkiller begins checking the computer systems when he feels the bike shift beneath him, then gentle hands wrap around his waist. A high-pitched yelp very nearly escapes his mouth, but he somehow manages to stay composed. He turns his head casually to see Ahsoka sitting behind him on the bike.
"What?" she says
"Nothing. Just assumed you were going with Rex."
"You aren't the only one who needs more clothes."
He nods. A girl wants to go clothes shopping. Why am I surprised?
"I guess we'll just have to guess for Captain Rex," Ahsoka chuckles.
Starkiller gives one more nod to Rex, then starts the engine with a kick. The bike comes to life with a growl, and trembles beneath them. He revs the engine, and it gives off a satisfying roar. Ahsoka's grip around him tightens, and a smirk finds its way to his lips as he kicks the bike into gear, and slams down on the throttle.
They get sucked backwards, and have to lean forward so that they don't get pulled off. The saleswoman wasn't lying; the bike is fast. He forces himself to slow. He doesn't want to draw too much attention. Minutes later, and they've arrived at the tailor's shop. He mentions the saleswoman, and they both receive excellent service.
After being measured for some time, trying on a few different looking test devices, and briefly explaining that he wants another duster just like the one that he's wearing, more shirts, and pants, just like the ones that he's wearing, the tailor tries to tell him that it will take weeks. He drops a stack of cash on the counter, and the tailor tells him to come back in the morning.
Unsurprisingly, Ahsoka takes her time, going over catalogs, looking over every different display, trying on every possible combination, and asking him many questions about her appearance with each new outfit.
"What about this one?" Ahsoka says, motioning to the powder blue tunic, and knee length skirt that she's wearing. "I'm not sure the blue goes with my color."
"It looks fine," he says, suppressing a groan.
He can't really imagine her looking not fine, but whatever. He just figures that even though she may be a Jedi, she's still a girl. He watches her inspect her reflection. She makes her final decisions. Starkiller pays the clerk, and grabs hold of her bags.
"Thanks," Ahsoka says.
He just nods, and heads out of the shop. He puts the bags in the cart on the back of the bike, then hops on.
"Where to now?" Ahsoka says, sitting down behind him.
"Back to check on the progress of our droids."
The drive back is short, but not unsatisfying. Starkiller heads inside. Ahsoka waits on the bike. It isn't long before Starkiller comes back out with a cart full of spare parts, and both droids. A few minutes, and he's loaded the cargo. He contacts Rex, and tells him to meet them back at the ship, then takes off on the bike.
(******)
Starkiller sits on a med table, his sleeves rolled up, working on the new protocol droid. He has been working on the droid for quite some time. Ahsoka walks into the med-bay. Starkiller greets her with a nod.
"Rex got back a while ago," Ahsoka says. "Thought you'd want to know."
"Thanks."
"So hows it coming?" she says, motioning to the droid, and all the parts and tools strewn about.
"Almost finished," he says, then puts his tools down beside him on the table.
He stands up, and activates the droid. It comes to life immediately, and greets them with a very proper, high-pitched, mechanical voice.
"Hello, I am TC-8OB."
"8-O-B?" Starkiller clarifies.
"That's correct, Master."
"I guess we'll call you Bob," he says.
The droid turns his head in confusion.
"You may call me whatever you wish, Master. I am here to serve you."
"I see you've fixed his linguistics program," Ahsoka says.
Starkiller nods.
"And upgraded his power core, processors, firmware-"
"Indeed you have," the droid cuts Starkiller off. "I'm detecting new programs, and directives."
"Like what?" Ahsoka says.
"He'll be able to perform more complex tasks, watch, learn, even operate, and fly the ship for us, if need be."
"Oh, wow, thank you, Master."
Starkiller smirks, and pats the droid's shoulder.
"And the astro-mech?" Ahsoka asks.
"I've repaired most of its damage, but I still have to install the new power core."
He picks up a white towel, and wipes some of the grease off of his hands, and forearms.
"You work fast," Ahsoka says. "Oh, I almost forgot, dinner's ready."
"Not fast enough," he mutters under his breath without meaning to.
"What?" Ahsoka asks.
"I was hoping to be finished with our astro-mech before supper time."
Ahsoka nods.
"Hey, Doc," Starkiller calls.
He's taken to calling the medical droid Doc. The droid hovers over to him.
"Yes, Master?"
"Please, clean up these droids."
"Yes, Master."
Starkiller follows Ahsoka to the galley, and she serves him a sandwich made with fresh bread, meats, and cheese that Rex apparently bought from the market. She grabs a frying pan, and spoons some fried potatoes with spices onto his plate.
"This looks wonderful," he says. "Thank you."
She smiles nervously, then fixes herself a plate, and brings it around the counter, and sits at one of the stools. Starkiller takes a bite, and breathes a deep sigh of satisfaction.
"Good?" Ahsoka asks him.
He nods sincerely, then goes for another bite.
"Hey, thanks for today," Ahsoka says.
He turns to her with a puzzled expression on his face.
"It was... Nice- to just forget about our troubles for a while."
"So where's Rex?" he asks after swallowing.
"I told him that I was preparing dinner. He said he was-"
"Familiarizing himself with the ship?" Starkiller cuts in.
"Yeah."
He rolls his eyes.
"Right," he says.
"What?"
"Nothing."
He chuckles, then goes back to eating.
(******)
Starkiller lays on his back, looking out the window above his bed at the night sky again. He's turned all the lights in his cabin off, and can't believe the vivid light of the stars. Not since he was a child with his mother has he appreciated the simple beauty of something like the stars- or anything for that matter. His Sith training didn't exactly include appreciating beauty.
He can still feel the struggle, and pain of his crew, but not as strong as the night before. Tomorrow, he will fix the remaining droid, pick up his new clothes, and explore the town a bit.
(******)
Starkiller enters a small Cantina with Ahsoka, and Rex close behind him. Rex had stopped there the day before, and suggested they stop in to rest before heading back to their ship. They had already picked up their clothes from the tailor, and grabbed some more supplies. They also saw that "Wanted" posters with a rough sketch of Starkiller were being hung up around the city.
The lighting in the Cantina is poor, and the place reeks of tobacco smoke, and liquor.
"Feels good to be out of the sun," Ahsoka says.
There's a bar at the far end of the room with a door leading to a back room. Rex makes his way to a table near the bar. Ahsoka, and Starkiller both join him at the table. Starkiller can't really figure why Rex was so insistent they come here. It looks like a rough place, not that they can't take care of themselves, but keeping a low profile is kind of a must.
Rex's gaze moves to the bar, and Starkiller looks that way. He sees a beautiful human woman tending bar with light olive skin, and dark hair. She's very clean, which is rare in a place like this. Rex stands, and asks his partners what they'd like, then heads to the bartender, and orders a few drinks.
Rex chats idly with the barmaid while she pours their drinks, then he returns to the table.
"If we're going to dismantle the operation," Rex says. "Then I think we should get to know the locals, develop contacts, keep our ears to the ground."
"You think here's a good place to start?" Ahsoka asks.
Rex shrugs.
"The food's good. The drinks are cheap, and there are a good number of low-lives here, and they all love to talk when their drunk."
"I guess we could find worse places to holed up while we do this," Ahsoka says, then turns to Starkiller. "Right?"
"Sure," he says. "This should work fine."
(******)
After spending some time in the saloon, they headed back to the ship, and Starkiller got to work fixing the astro-mech with the help of Bob the protocol droid. He upgraded all of the astro-mech's systems, and replaced the fried power core, then upgraded all of its software. Satisfied with his work, he activated it. All diagnostics read green. He looked over to his medical droid, and decided to upgrade it as well.
A few hours later, and he has three almost sentient droids mulling about his med bay, speaking to each other in different languages just for the fun of it- or beeping, and whistling in the case of the astro-mech.
"Hey, Doc," Starkiller says. "would you mind cleaning up-" he stops.
He strokes his chin, thinking.
"I never looked at your name, did I?" he says, looking at the astro-mech.
He walks over, and grabs a towel, then stoops down to the astro-mech, and gently tries to clear away some of the grime from where it's designation is written.
"R-7-J-0," he says. "I guess we'll call you Jo."
The small droid beeps in approval. Starkiller pats it on the dome, and stands up.
"Doc, would you mind cleaning Jo up for me?"
"Of course, Master."
(******)
Within two days, there were wanted posters with his face plastered everywhere, a large bounty was placed on his head. A few days later, and squads of soldiers from the blockade were occupying the city, searching for him, and a week after that, bounty hunters, and mercenaries arrived.
Starkiller sits with his crew at a table in a quiet corner of the Cantina. They had spent most days here, eavesdropping, and mentally probing the patrons for information.
"Things are getting worse every day," Ahsoka says. "I don't know how much longer we can keep this up before you get spotted. And that hat won't hide your identity for forever."
He had taken to wearing a wide brimmed, black hat with the brim curled up in the back, and turned slightly down in the front.
"It would safer, sir, if you stayed with the ship," Rex agrees.
Starkiller takes a dram of the amber colored liquid in his glass.
"Maybe until we have a sure plan," Starkiller says. "Maybe I should stay with the ship from now on."
He stands up, and adjusts his duster, then leaves a few coins on the table.
"I'm gonna head back," he says.
Rex nods. Ahsoka stands up.
"I'll head back to," she says. "I want to run some more scans of the blockade, maybe catch some of their radio chatter."
She nods to Rex, then ducks out the front door after Starkiller.
(******)
Rex sits at the table, looking at his reflection in the amber liquid of his glass. He listens to two patrons, a male Bothan, and a male Rodian complain about the soldiers hampering business, and the mercenaries cocky attitude. He notices a three mercenaries, two Trandoshen males, and what appears to be a human male, wearing silver Mandolorian armor. They're eying the patrons, and the patrons don't notice them. Not good.
The armored man nods to the Trandoshens, and they walk over the patrons. One of them shoves the Bothan into the bar from behind. Rex grips one of his pistols, holstered at his hip, but doesn't draw it yet. The Trandoshens start mocking the Rodian, as the Bothan makes his way back to his feet.
The beautiful, olive skinned woman behind the bar gets the attention of the mercenaries, and tries to talk them down. Rex notices the armored man's gaze turn to her. Something in his body language makes Rex's skin crawl.
"If you want to fight, take it somewhere else," the woman says firmly.
The Trandoshens look to the armored man. He steps towards the bar.
"Maybe I'll just take you somewhere else instead."
Before her eyes even have a chance to shoot wide, Rex is on his feet, pistols drawn, and leveled at the side of the armored man's neck, where the armor is weakest.
"I think not," he growls.
The man slowly turns his head to the right, and looks Rex up, and down.
"There's three of us," the man says. "Think you're fast enough to shoot us all?"
"You'll pay to find out."
Rex notices the pistols slung in shoulder holsters on the man's upper torso. He catches movement in the corner of his vision. Both the Trandoshens have drawn their pistols. They swing them in Rex's direction. Blue light flashes in the dark, smoky bar as Rex nails both Trandoshens square in the chest. They gasp, and crumple to the floor. Rex curses himself for he knows that he's in serious trouble.
He knows that the armored man behind him has a clean shot. If he's a fast draw, and a good shot, which Rex has to believe that he is, given the fact that he's still alive, then Rex is now a dead man. He lunges headlong, and rolls as he hears a loud blaster shot echoing behind him. He knocks a table over to take cover behind it, thanking his lucky stars that the armored guy missed.
He risks a peek over the table to see the armored man on the ground in a pool of blood. For a second he doesn't understand what he's seeing, then he sees the plume of smoke escaping the barrel of a Flechette shotgun, held tightly in the hands of the woman behind the bar. He chuckles, and shakes his head. He stands up, and strides for the women.
"Thank you, ma'am... He'd have had me." He looks to the bodies of the Trandoshens. "Sorry."
"No, it isn't your fault," she says. "You didn't harass my customers, and threaten me, did you?"
He shrugs.
"I suppose not, ma'am."
"Name's Marta," she says.
She pours a dram of her best whiskey for herself.
"And this one," she says, pouring him a glass. "Is on the house."
Author's note
Hey all, been awhile, huh?... So, so sorry about that. I didn't give up on this story, but I was very, very stuck. I intended to come back to it after the holidays, but I signed up for a creative writing class, so I've had little to time to write anything not course related. I know, I know, excuses, excuses... So anyway, this was part seven. Thanks for your patience, thanks for the read, and please review, and let me know how I'm doing.
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