First off, a big thank you once again to the followers and reviewers! I wish there were an "inline" comment layout here like they have on AO3, as otherwise replying to comments with PMs seems a bit stalker-ish ;) But I do appreciate the feedback.
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She has to drag herself forward every step.
She descends from the ramp thinking through the possibilities; it could be Nawara's men, it could be Imperial officials, or a gang of unaffiliated bandits. Even if these are Nawara's men, it likely means that he no longer sees her as a desirable contact let alone a welcome guest, and will probably tell her to go back to where she came from. In either of the other two scenarios, she and Cassian are as good as dead. She stands no chance of taking them out with the blaster; with four of them brandishing rifles, by the time she shoots one or two, one of the others will kill her. If she shoots the leader first she might gain a second or so of lead time, but the end will be the same.
As she heads toward the strangers awaiting her at the blast doors, her jaw is set but her hands are already raised in a sign of surrender.
The rifles are trained on her the moment she emerges into their field of vision; but by the time she is ten steps away the cloaked leader raises his own hands to peel back the hood, and even before she sees the face, a flash of red eyes makes her exhale in a ragged sigh.
"Nawara…"
He takes a single step toward her. Now that her eyes are more accustomed to daylight, she can make out the familiar face framed by thick lekku wrapped loosely around his neck, glowing orange-red eyes set deep into the pale pink flesh typical of older Twi'leks, and can finally identify the tall bodyguards as purple-skinned Devaronians, their menacing stature further augmented by the curling horns sprouting from their foreheads.
Nawara peers at her for another long moment before delivering the verdict in his purring voice. "It really is you, Liana Hallik."
She has to admit that showing up in an Imperial shuttle, assuming Nawara bothered to run a check on her ship's entry record upon being informed of her request to see him – and he surely would – was bound to make anyone suspicious, let alone a borderline-legal Twi'lek businessman.
She waves a hand toward the shuttle; the guards' eyes follow her motion but the rifle muzzles do not. "I know this must look… strange. I owe you an explanation, but I also need to ask you something."
"It can wait," he purrs. "For now, you should not hold it against me that I would like to see what exactly you have onboard."
He motions to the Devaronians; two of them step forward and set off at a brisk pace toward the landing ramp.
"No!" she yelps before she can think better of it. The first two guards pause without turning around, but the remaining two immediately re-train the rifles on her.
"Wait… I… my pilot is still on board."
Nawara's glowing eyes narrow.
"He suffered major injuries and has been unconscious for the past hour. Let me come along onboard with you, if he happens to come around, I'll need to warn him not to resist." It is a remote possibility, but should it somehow happen, the risk of a fatal misunderstanding would be too great.
Nawara nods at the front guards; they each take half a step aside, letting her pass, but the instant she is ahead of them, she feels the rifle muzzle pressed into her back.
She carefully retraces her steps up the ramp, then further forward through the dim interior; as they progress, the guard keeps the rifle at her back while his companion takes a minute checking crates and hatches and peering into cabins. She mentally kicks herself for not having made a similar inspection in all the time she spent on the shuttle; she assumed it to be empty and now hopes for dear life that they do not discover any incriminating surprises. She seems to be in luck, and tries to hide her relief as they step onto the bridge.
Cassian is still slumped in the pilot's seat, and seeing him much as she described seems to work further in her favour with the guards, if the direction of their rifle muzzles is any indication.
"I need a repulsorlift pallet to take him off the ship." She tries to inject her voice with all the calmness, and all the humility, that she can summon up.
"We must check with the boss," one of the guards answers; his voice is flat but not outwardly hostile. She nods her acknowledgement, and they head back into the bay.
The guard who spoke to her walks forward and says a few words in Nawara's ear, and Nawara slowly inclines his head; all she can hear of their exchange is a low rumble, but it looks like the odds may be turning in her favour.
She takes a slow step forward, then another, noting that she is no longer tracked by the weapons.
"My pilot is seriously injured and I was hoping for a chance to beg you to give him emergency treatment." She is not much good at being obsequious, but does her best on this occasion. From what she recalls, Nawara is far from being the height of self-absorbed arrogance that a few of his fellow Twi'leks are known to be guilty of, but all high-ranking Twi'lek males, brought up in a hierarchical clan structure, are susceptible to a spot of grovelling.
His glowing eyes grow momentarily dimmer. "You are very concerned about this pilot."
An outright acknowledgement may eventually bring complications, but she sees no immediate reason to lie in this case… especially remembering how uncannily good Nawara is at reading human body language, to the point that some considered him a mind-reader. "Yes. He is in very bad shape and I really need him… to fly."
"Very well." He takes a moment's pause before addressing another of his guards. "Malloc?"
The Devaronian steps forward.
"Take a cargo pallet and bring the man from the shuttle out here."
She brings forward her hands as if to stop him before thinking better of it; but by now she is no longer seen as a potential threat. "He has a broken back… probably. You have to be very careful lifting him onto the pallet– "
Instead of a reply, Nawara motions to a second guard. His companion has by now activated the pallet that had been hovering in the far corner of the landing bay and steered it back toward them; now the pair of them walk it on board, and Jyn's fingers tighten into fists until she sees them re-emerge accompanying Cassian who looks no worse than he did two minutes earlier.
"I take it you would like to discuss this… request that you have?" Nawara prompts her.
"If you would grant me the chance," she ventures.
"I believe it is best done at a less public venue. I have a landspeeder waiting outside. Lock down your ship and follow me." Once she has completed the simple steps and re-emerges just as the shuttle ramp begins to rise, he motions to the guards and follows them out of the landing bay, Jyn hurrying to match their stride.
x x x
"It has been quite a while since I last saw you, Liana."
Knowing Nawara, this is as close as he'd get to the direct question of what have you been doing all this time. But the indirect manner in which it is phrased does not make an answer any less mandatory.
By now they are sitting on a low dais strewn with cushions at his private quarters at the top tier of one of the multitude of terraced buildings, hewn from the local mustard-coloured stone, clinging to both sides of a steep valley to the immediate north of the capital city. The shape of the local settlements, dictated by their valley-side locations, itself dictates the local architectural hierarchy; the higher up a dwelling is the more expensive and desirable it tends to be, and Nawara has spared no expense asserting his status in this regard. The internal furnishings are equally opulent, Nawara's apparent desire to create the opposite of his homeworld lifestyle evident here as well: unlike the rough stone warrens, harsh colours and minimal furnishings of Twi'leki dwellings on his native Ryloth, his quarters are a muted palette of an array of hanging fabric curtains and soft furnishings, occasional gold-hued metal accents echoed in the polished golden exterior of a 3PO protocol droid, the favoured status symbol of successful businessmen eager to stress their galactic reach. But perhaps the greatest luxury he has afforded himself is, quite literally, invisible: military-grade transparisteel windows, huge uninterrupted panes wrapping around the room offering unparalleled views while protecting his quarters from the occasionally dangerous high winds that plague top-floor dwellings, while less affluent residents have to content themselves with windows made up of tiny conventional glass panes set into durasteel grids, giving their rooms the appearance of prison cells.
Not that there is any view to be enjoyed on this occasion; the local sunset is still at least an hour away but the layer of thick fog that rises up the valley in the morning and descends at night has already started its progress down the mountain slope, turning the splendid panorama into a uniform greyish-white void.
In any case, she has more pressing concerns than the local urban highlights, even though things are looking up considerably compared to their tense meeting at the landing bay.
Their ride back to Ridgeside City from the spaceport in Nawara's spacious and fully-enclosed silver landspeeder afforded her the chance to tell him the cover story she had agreed upon with Cassian, of a pair of hapless thieves on the run from their disgruntled customer and their mark alike, their dire situation made worse by her pilot's unfortunate fall from a height and complicated by their rather eye-catching means of conveyance. She could not quite tell how much Nawara believed it, though the Devaronian guards were rather obviously entertained. But when she was finished he expressed general sympathy and assured her that the services of the prized 2-1B surgeon droid, as well as the use of the bacta tank to the extent necessary to treat Captain Rook's injuries, were at their disposal. The other member of the party, a younger Twi'lek male if his pink eyes and grey-ish skin were an indication, who, as she discovered, had been waiting for them in the landspeeder, said very little throughout the ride, apart from the initial greetings where he was introduced as Naroon without further explanations. She remembered well enough that both Nawara's now-adult children were female, and both of them were married off-world, so her best guess in the absence of hard facts was that Naroon was a son-in-law, and she put his reticent manner down to the restrictions of Twi'leki hierarchy.
Now she has the equally important task of answering this new query in a way guaranteed not to arouse concern. Luckily, her exploits and modus operandi up until a week ago are well enough aligned with the robbery story.
"It has been four and a half years, true," she confirms, picking her cue off Nawara's not-quite-question, and doing her best to mirror his rather formal Basic grammar. "I have been travelling around the galaxy so much that I lost track of time, but I have the fondest memories of my time here." This might be laying it on a bit thick, but the way Nawara's eyes flash at the innocent flattery, she figures it was a good move. "Most of what I did initially was code slicing. but lately I have been more involved in… asset appropriation." She gives him a knowing look, and can tell that he appreciates the wry humour of the way she referred to theft. "I have to say, some of the jobs I carried out were quite lucrative, but as I am now finding out, the downside of this career can be quite… unforgiving, and having to deal with a new customer for every job sometimes makes me wish for more predictability." She wonders for an instant if the idea that just struck her is going to be much help, but on the upside, it is truthful enough to be relayed with conviction. "That is one of the reasons I am quite concerned about Cassian – Captain Rook. He has given me a lead to a customer who could be a viable long-term option." An interesting way to describe the Rebel Alliance, for sure, but being creative with the terminology does not make the substance any less true. "What happened just now with our escape was not his fault," she adds, though she immediately wonders if she is saying too much. "We were faced with overwhelming odds and he did everything possible to improve them."
Nawara inclines his head, but does not immediately answer.
"I am glad you have met with reasonable success," he says eventually. "And seeing how you see this Captain as important to your future endeavours, I will be happy to assist in his recovery." His eyes narrow for an instant. "I might, however, have a request of my own to make of you."
She should have expected this, if only because the Twi'leki reputation of being tenacious negotiators is well and truly deserved, so much so that back on Ryloth, unsolicited favours and gifts are frowned upon as they are seen as groundwork for future bargaining leverage. Etiquette would dictate that in this case, she should be able and willing to reciprocate; she only hopes that the request is not exorbitant.
"And I shall be happy to do my best fulfilling it."
"Naroon and I are planning a– " his eyes flash faintly as he recalls her words, "an asset appropriation venture, and it would be a great help if you could play a role in it."
In other words, they are planning a heist, and Cassian's treatment will be her reward in lieu of a cut for taking part in it. All things considered, it could be a lot worse.
"You can count on my best efforts."
"I appreciate your willingness." He gets up from the dais, signifying the conclusion of the audience. "We shall meet to discuss our plan the morning of the day after tomorrow, which is–" he glances at a nearby datapad – "twenty standard hours from now." She reminds herself that Dorvallan days are only half as long as standard. "Until then, I hope you can take the opportunity to rest and recover from your travels. But in the meantime it will be my pleasure to see you at dinner with my associates in an hour's time."
"It will be an honour," she says, as deferentially as she can.
He snaps his fingers at the 3PO. "You come along now, and show Mistress Hallik her sleeping quarters."
As Nawara walks her to the entrance, the 3PO shuffling along after them, her eye lands on a striking hologram image in the spacious hallway; for an instant she is so intrigued as to take a step toward it and peer closer.
"Could it really be–" Her surprise is not feigned.
Nor, she thinks, is the pride in Nawara's voice as he answers. "You are correct, it is Shani. This was taken last week, just before she left on her trip offworld."
Whatever Jyn's views on over-indulging in personal vanity may be, she is impressed despite herself. The lithe, sinuous female, ribbon-wrapped lekku curled elegantly over her shoulders, looks barely older than Jyn in standard years; for that matter, she probably looks younger than her own married daughters. The only slight giveaway is the shade of her skin, paler than what would be characteristic of a youngster.
"She looks younger and younger every time I see her," Jyn says, and means it.
"And it is costing more and more every year," Nawara mutters under his breath, and Jyn has to bite her lip not to smirk. He may be forgiven this frivolous comment vis-à-vis his wife, but Jyn must not be seen as noticing it. "I regret that she is unable to hear this in person," Nawara presently says in his normal voice, if only to cover up his momentary lapse of protocol, "but she has gone to her clan relatives on Ryloth to have her lekku tattooed. She does not trust local artists to do it. I am not entirely convinced that it is a good idea, but she was quite insistent."
Jyn does her best to keep the amusement out of her face. It is a well-known fact that Twi'leki women are consummate charmers, and it appears that their husbands are just as susceptible to their wiles as gullible non-Twi'leki males.
"I am certain that it will only enhance her beauty," Jyn insists with the most respectful smile she can muster.
And hopes that between her flattery and her thieving skills, she will stay in Nawara's good graces long enough for Cassian and herself to safely make it off Dorvalla.
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TBC
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Devaronians (or at least one of them) show(s) up briefly in the cantina scene in A New Hope – if you look closely you may spot the tall horned guy looking rather like, well, a devil.