Trigger warning for this chapter, and essentially the rest of the fic, for rape, violence, prostitution and slavery. The rape never actually happens, but it is implied, and the prostitution and the slavery is talked about a lot.
It was the next evening that they decided to spring their plan. Jesper tensed on instinct as Nina snapped the binders around his wrists; she tried to speak, to give him a few words of encouragement, but her voice came out through the vocoder in the helmet as low and gruff. It did very little to help his nerves.
It was Inej who clapped him on the shoulder then said, in a slow, meaningful voice that belied the nonchalance of the action, "For Kaz."
Jesper nodded, setting his jaw and squaring his shoulders. "For Kaz."
Inej released his shoulder and stepped back to look at the two of them. Nina imagined they looked the part all right: bounty hunter and bounty, her face and body shape obscured by all the tech on the armour and helmet, Jesper's posture drooping and his face a little beaten up.
Matthias seemed to have taken a little too much glee in giving him the bust lip and black eye. "For not protecting Wylan better on Naboo," he'd said darkly, and Jesper's joking grin had dropped. Nina wondered if it was possible for Matthias to hate Jesper over that incident any more than Jesper already hated himself.
But, guilt or no guilt, the next few hours passed in a blur and before long they were standing in front of the massive metal door that led to Pekka's palace. Jesper disguised a shiver as they stood there and Nina used her reinforced gloves to knock. The sound rang out like a gong and vibrated through their very bone marrow; idly, Nina wondered if Inej could hear it from where she was in position around the back.
A droid activated on the door's surface; a disdainful phrase spat in Huttese, and Nina had no idea what it had just asked her but she just recited the phrase Inej and Jesper had grilled her on before coming.
"De wanna wanga," she said haltingly, but infused it with enough entitlement and arrogance that she no doubt passed for a bounty hunter any day. "Kilya murishani killie noah Jesper Fahey. Mendee-ya jah-jee bargon - ku meete moulee-rah me."
Greetings. The loyal bounty hunter has captured Jesper Fahey. We have a deal - you owe me money.
She spat the words out of her mouth. Huttese was a crude language. But she really hoped Inej had got the translation right. She had muttered something about "captured" being the same as "not killed" in Huttese. . .
"Murishani," the droid spat out, then pulled back again and the slot it had exited through slammed shut, leaving them in the harsh sunlight.
Nina murmured to Jesper, "What did it say? Did I say the right thing?"
"Yeah, you were great," Jesper murmured back. "And the droid just said 'bounty hunter' before it shut off. Can you tell if anyone's coming?"
Nina stretched out with the Force - and felt three life forms approaching from the other side of the door. "Yes, they're coming. They don't feel all that homicidal, either." She fixed Jesper with a look that she knew he couldn't see from under the helmet. "And if you tried, you could too."
"Is now really the best time for Jedi training?"
"Any time is good for Jedi training."
Despite the situation, Jesper let out a quiet laugh. "I doubt I'll ever become a Jedi Master if I only get training sessions when I've been caught by Pekka the Hutt."
"At least you're a master of getting caught." She grinned as he scowled, then the doors swept open and they slipped back into their respective roles again.
The Gamorrean guard who grunted at them was as repulsive as ever. Nina had no idea what he was saying - she caught herself wishing it was Inej, who was experienced in all of this, playing this role, before reminding herself what Inej had told her just last night, the thousand reasons why she couldn't - but she just pursed her lips and smiled grimly, before realising that her face was covered by the helmet they'd stolen off that unfortunate bounty hunter. She nodded instead as the guards waved her to walk inside, then closed rank behind her as she did. For a moment, she felt trapped.
You are in control here, she reminded herself as the door closed and the corridor was plunged into shadows. It was chilly in here, sheltered from the harsh suns. She flexed her right hand, felt through the Force the beating hearts of all the life forms around her, the thrum of blood through their necks and the rasp of air in and out of their lungs. . .
Inej's terrified face flashed in front of her eyes. Killing him won't bring Kuwei back.
But it was comforting, knowing that no matter what, she had some sort of power over these lowlife scum. Even if it meant accepting that this ability of hers, used to do good and make her own life plus the lives of others better, could be used for such evil.
I guess I already knew that anyway. She scowled under the helmet. Why did her thoughts always lead her back to Alina Starkiller?
She hated the throne room before she even stepped into it - and she wasn't the only one. She felt Jesper stiffen beside her as even he, with only the limited training they'd managed on the hyperspace flight here, picked up on the hot, cramped stench of life and pain and torment oozing from the place. It was enough to make her dizzy.
It got worse when they actually entered. The room was massive, with too many corners and too many randomly placed curtains - too many shadows. The sheer amount of life confused her, because there was so much, but she couldn't see any of it; the people slunk around at the side, in small knots of people, so while Nina's Force sense was sent reeling, all her eyes saw was a writhing mass of flesh. Music filled the room - there was a band of Biths playing in the corner - and people of all species were dancing. One woman in particular stood out: a human woman who couldn't be much older than Inej, with skin like ivory and hair like amber, dressed in utilitarian clothing too expensive and well-kept for her to be a mere bounty hunter.
But she looked like one, stood like one, stance stiff, eyes scanning the crowd periodically, just as Nina was doing now.
Nina tore her gaze away just before she noticed her noticing her, and moved on.
The room itself was as rundown as Inej had described; if Nina hadn't known the exact number on the bounty Kaz and Jesper carried, or seen the numerous people trying to kiss up to him, she would've assumed Pekka didn't have much money. But the drapes were of good quality, there was a filthy protocol droid in the corner - thank goodness, I won't have to speak purely Huttese - and who kept an expensive (not to mention repulsive) creature such as a rancor beneath a grate in the floor?
And then there was Pekka himself.
If Nina hadn't already felt nauseous, she would have when she looked at him.
She'd never seen a Hutt in person before, and she had to admit she'd never expected them to be quite so. . . big. He never seemed to end: he had the body of an overgrown slug, but as he sat on the dais he had to be twice as tall as Nina, who was by no means short. There was so much flesh: it sagged out across the dais, somewhere between brown and pink in colour, the very end of his tail twitching in time with the arms on his torso which were, Nina had to note, surprisingly small in proportion to the rest of him. His eyes reminded her of the mud pies she used to make with the other younglings at the Temple, except they were size of ornate dinner plates and lazily slid around the room; they alighted first on his major-domo, then the small bowl of (live) snacks at his arm, then to his own body. . .
No, Nina realised with revulsion. At a young human women forced to press herself against his body. She was pale, though whether that was because of the lack of sun in here or the terror she felt, Nina didn't know. Her clothing consisted only of a metal bikini and a thick collar at her throat, with a chain attached with it that led straight to the bottom of Pekka's throne.
Nina wanted to throw up.
Was this what Inej had been talking about, when she'd described what she'd gone through before joining the Rebellion? She and Nina had had this conversation the night before, in explanation for Inej's peculiar behaviour since coming to Tatooine: Inej had been a sex and dancing slave to Pekka the Hutt before Kaz had bought her and freed her because he thought she'd make a good smuggler.
Nina had said she'd understood, but she knew nothing. She knew nothing, she realised, feeling bile rise in her throat as she looked at the woman. She knew nothing, nothing about exactly how evil the world could get, because this-
This-
They were still standing by the doorway when the music shut off suddenly.
Pekka yanked on the chain around the poor slave girl's neck and she stumbled to her feet, glancing at him with wide eyes.
"Noah!" she shouted desperately. Nina's blood ran cold. She knew enough Huttese to understand that: No.
Pekka said something else, then hit a button in the arm of his chair. And the grating in the floor slid back.
The slave girl was still screaming, "Noah! Noah!" when she stumbled off the side of the grating and fell.
The rancor Nina had sensed earlier roared.
The slave girl didn't scream again.
They had a plan, Nina reminded herself, turning her attention back to Pekka and resisting the urge to crush his throat. We have a plan, Inej needs us to carry out this plan, we have a plan-
Pekka shouted something - presumably to bring him another slave to torture and torment and kill, Nina thought, rage boiling s she thought of Pekka flailing in his own rancor pit, screaming himself as his pet tore chunks of flesh right off his body-
Her thoughts ground to a halt as she saw the woman who was brought in. Dressed in a metal bikini similar to the other's, shoulders hunched in, terror that was of a highly personal nature screaming from a usually quiet mind.
Nina stopped breathing.
It was Inej.
Inej had a mantra. It kept her thoughts on track, her hands from shaking, her heart from giving up. It was the same one she'd told Jesper:
For Kaz.
For Kaz, who'd saved her from despair. For Kaz, who'd come back for her over the Death Star. For Kaz, who'd given her candlewick blossoms.
It was the rhythm that steadied her footsteps as she crept over the rooftops of Mos Eisley. For Kaz.
Nina and Jesper were already in position. Her only job was to establish that Pekka still had Kaz, and hadn't just executed him the moment Oomen caught him.
Which, Inej mused sourly, would've been a very real possibility had Kaz worked for any of the other Hutts. The Hutt Clan wasn't exactly known for being patient.
But there was a reason Pekka had the power he did. Three, to be precise.
One: He was athletic. He'd been an extremely formidable fighter in his prime, and everyone who'd fought him person-to-person had died. He'd let himself go these past few hundred years, though, as Inej understood it - thank the Force for Hutts' longevity - so hopefully they wouldn't get much of a physical fight out of him.
Two: He was ruthless. He didn't care who he had to kill or execute or double-cross to get his message sent. He would do it, and laugh as he wiped the blood off his face.
And the third? He was smart.
Not just with computers and gadgets and fancy heists - that was the mark of a small-time criminal, not an overlord the likes of Pekka. No; he was smart about people as well.
He knew how to manipulate them, which buttons to press to get them to comply. He never forgot a face, was excellent at putting the pieces together. Inej was good at the latter herself; she was an intelligence officer, and monitored information coming in from a myriad of sources at any given time. But Pekka was brutal about it. He knew exactly how to sway the masses to his side, be it out of fear or greed.
It was never out of love.
He knew exactly whose execution would make him look the most powerful. Inej lifted the traits in her head. Renowned criminals, revered criminals, criminals with rumours circulating about them. . .
Sure enough, Kaz ticked all the boxes.
So he wasn't dead. Not yet.
And it was Inej's job to keep it that way.
The rough stone of the Mos Eisley rooftop seemed to suck all the warmth from her hands. She paused to wrap some cloth around them. She remembered this about Tatooine: the nights were as cold as the days were hot, and if one extreme didn't get you, the other would.
But she was prepared for this - her Rebellion-issue jacket was extremely effective about keeping out the cold - so she pushed on and eyed the small knot of smugglers laughing raucously in the middle of the cool night. And next to them. . .
Inej crept closer, closer than advised, but she had to see, had to know-
Slaves.
Slaves huddled next to each other, clearly cold in the desert night. They stood next to a stall that was about to close for the evening - produce that the shopkeeper hadn't managed to sell that day.
The bottom fell out of her stomach.
Of course they were slaves. This was Mos Eisley, Tatooine. Why was she so surprised?
She glanced over her shoulder. She should leave. She should run, far away from this place, confirm that Pekka still had Kaz, then leave before she did something stupid-
Her hand slipped.
She'd crept too close. She'd leaned too far forwards. She scrambled back up the roof in a heartbeat, but couldn't stop the minute gasp from escaping her as she did.
Couldn't stop it from being noticed.
"What was that?" Pekka's smugglers were murmuring amongst themselves now, scanning the area with their hands on their blasters.
She shrank backwards, hoping, praying-
"Eh, must've been a night breeze."
A sigh of relief.
The Force had smiled on her today. She should back off, get to safety, fulfil her mission, before her luck ran out.
But her gaze lingered on those slaves.
Their binders were of the same quality as anything else on this desolate rock: poor. And the slaves themselves were close enough that she could set her blaster in the sniper configuration and shoot the binders just right, breaking them each independently. Once one shot went off, it would probably start a panicked riot, but if she was quick, she could finish the job before people managed to react.
Inej was unpacking her blaster before she gave it a second thought. She could-
No.
Slaves were given implants upon enslavement - transmitters. She knew that. Shooting them into freedom would only chase them outside of the transmitter's range, thus activating the bomb. She would give them freedom, but it would be short and painful. It would be bleeding to death on the merciless desert sands.
Unconsciously, her hand had drifted towards her collarbone, the scar there. She remembered feeling her own deactivated transmitter in her hand once Kaz had cut it out, remembered crushing in under the heel of her new boots, the ones Anika had bought. She could hear the boots creaking as she walked, the way all smugglers' boots did.
She couldn't do anything for these people. She dropped her blaster back down to the side, then froze.
There was the creak of boots - exactly as she remembered it. Was it just a figment of her imagination?
No, she realised, a chill snaking its way down her back. It was real, it was real, and it was coming from behind-
A hand wrapped itself around her plait and yanked.
She gasped, much more loudly now, and with more than a bit of a scream in the sound. A thick forearm came across her chest, putting pressure on her throat, and she struggling for breath, mouth opening and closing like a fish, until-
Well. It's difficult to open one's jaw any further when it has a blaster pressed up against it.
Calm, she breathed to herself. Stay calm.
She scrabbled at the arm holding her in place, seeming frantic, desperate, even as her foot slowly slid along the roof, seeking purchase, then-
Her attacker howled as she stamped down on his toes and released her momentarily, but a moment was enough. She leapt off the roof to land on the street below, blaster already drawn and spitting plasma bolts. Kaz had taught her to be a quick draw; three of the seven smugglers that had gathered in a knot around her soon fell, smoking holes in their heads and torsos, but there were still four left, and they were quick draws as well.
She shifted left, right, duck, red plasma bolts shooting past her, until one struck her in the shoulder and she staggered back, the bolt's path carving a burning furrow in her flesh-
"Stop," said a voice above them - her original attacker, still on the roof. "She's worth more to us alive."
Now she recognised the voice. Oomen.
The other smugglers were none too pleased at the concept of letting her live - I did just take down three of their squad - but Oomen was clearly in charge here. They lowered their weapons.
"You too, Ghafa," Oomen said. A shudder ran down her spine - he knew her name. "Drop your blaster."
She was surrounded. If she provoked them, they could put more holes in her than Iego had moons before she even blinked.
She dropped her blaster.
The moment it was no longer cocked and ready to fire at the slightest twitch, one of the smugglers on the ground reached out to grasp her chin; she jerked away, glaring, but didn't resist when one of them clipped a pair of binders around her wrists.
"She's a pretty thing, I'll give you that," he said, and Inej had to resist the urge to close her eyes, had to ground herself in reality, because she'd already heard those words and she didn't want to remember where she'd heard those words- "But she's probably more trouble than she's worth, as a slave. I vote we shoot her, not sell her."
"And that, Gerrigan, is why you're reliant on me to get the big money from our employers," Oomen drawled, then dropped off the roof and shouldered his way into the ring. His eyes surveyed Inej from top to bottom as he continued, "But I'm not surprised you don't recognise her. Inej Ghafa here used to be Brekker's partner; they were of a calibre far above yourself. But, as I know it, Ghafa hasn't been back to Tatooine since their partnership ended."
"Probably here to save Brekker."
"Probably," Oomen conceded, then viewed her with narrow eyes, "but Brekker and Ghafa were the smartest team around. Far smarter than to take on Pekka. Not to mention, this isn't the first time she's been back to this dustball in the past few months, has it, Ghafa?"
She kept her face steeled and impassive.
"She came back less than a year ago - to hire Brekker, of all people. Then left with TIE fighters on her tail." Some of her shock must have been betrayed through her face, because Oomen gave a faint smile. "Oh, don't think we didn't recognise you. But this is when it really gets interesting."
He tapped her nose; she bared her teeth in a snarl.
"Because after that, rumours began circulating that the Imps had gone after not just any Rebel, but the Wraith herself. That's why they were all over this spaceport. Imagine all the secrets kept up in her pretty head."
Blasters all around the vicinity were instantly primed and aimed. Only this time, Inej knew, they'd been set to stun. "You think she's the Wraith? The top intelligence spy in the Rebellion?"
"I do." Oomen looked satisfied, like her lack of response had been all the answer he needed. "And now the question is not only why she's here-"
"Pekka just made that deal with Koroleva, didn't he? She's probably here investigating that."
Inej's ears (metaphorically) pricked up at that, but she took care to keep it off her face. Oomen, looking only vaguely disgruntled at being interrupted, nodded. "Probably - and she'll probably try to rescue Brekker whilst she's here. The Alliance always repays its debts. It's actually quite a reliable client. We could sell her back to them and make quite a profit." His head tilted to the side ever so slightly. "And that brings me back to the other question: Who will pay us the most for her?"
"The Empire has a ten million credit bounty on her head," Gerrigan spoke up.
Oomen barely spared him a disdainful glance. "That's the bounty for a member of Rebel High Command, sleemo, and anyway, the Empire's running out of credits fast, thanks to the Alliance. That number's dropped significantly in recent months." He turned his gaze back to Inej, who took an instinctive half-step back. "No, I think with that deal he just made with the Empire, Pekka will want these sorts of secrets as compensation, to keep them true to their end of the bargain. And he's rich. I say we sell her to him."
No.
She wouldn't.
She would sooner give the Empire her secrets than Pekka the Hutt.
She refused to go back there, into the stench of his palace, the hot, writhing darkness-
She'd moved before she even thought about it. Oomen - head-butted in the face, nose broken. The smuggler behind her - legs kicked from underneath him. The one next to him - sucker punched in the face after his stray blaster shot hit the binders at her wrists and released them.
Three down, two left, so she ran. Made a break for it up the street, zigzagging from left to right, then-
Her nerves shuddered as a stun shot soaked into her back and she hit the ground face-first.
She tasted blood. Her front teeth had gone right through her lip.
Get up. Get up get up get up.
She'd been stunned before. She'd been trained in how to shake them off-
But then she heard, "Rebels never work alone," and another stun shot had her sinking to the ground, and another one had the world guttering like a candle, then being blown out.
She was barely conscious when they fitted binders on her again.
She was barely conscious when she heard them conversing with Pekka's major-domo in Huttese and she could only make out a few words.
And she wasn't even fully conscious just over an hour later, even though the effects of the stun bolt had long since worn off, as she was shoved down next to Pekka the Hutt and forced to watch her friends bargain for not just one life, but two.
The chain around her neck was just as heavy as it was in her nightmares.
