Chapter 3
Tama awoke from her deep slumber slowly and groggily, finding it difficult to extricate herself from the thick furs and blankets wrapped about her like a cocoon. She slumped out of her uncomfortable cot and dressed quickly, shivering in the cold air. The fire must have died again; or perhaps it was simply not enough to ward off the brutal cold of Yanibar's oppressive winter. She padded into the main room of their small house that was one of the few things she and her sister possessed that had belonged to their parents. The fire was little more than ash and embers, but with a little prodding and a few thin slivers of wood, it began effusing warmth into the room once more. After a bland breakfast of nutrient supplements, she did a quick inspection of the house, but she found no other beings present. Foyi must have left early to deal with the speeder bike, and Tama could not help but feel a small amount of disappointment. She had been hoping to take the 74-Z for a spin, even though doing so would be dangerous and potentially suicidal. The disappointment only reminded her of her frustration and anger the night before stemming from her continuing failure in the discblade lesson her sister had presented her. Tama felt shame at the memory. She generally considered herself to have a rather affable personality at most times, but she had always felt a certain level of rivalry and irritation with her sister. She did not know if it was due to Foyi's more aggressive and introverted personality, or if it simply originated from the fact that they were sisters, thus necessitating a genetic or environmental predisposition to conflict based on their close relation to one another. This compounded her reactions to her difficulties with her Force training, and inevitably led to her building anger.
But she felt ashamed because she had been neither kind nor fair with Foyi. Her limitations in feeling and interacting with the Force were hers and hers alone, and to cast blame on others was merely an excuse that prevented her from addressing her problems and overcoming them. If she continued in the attitude she had been cultivating when faced with a new test of her Force abilities, she would never become a Zeison Sha Warrior...and she badly wanted to rise above the ranks of Initiate.
Tama finished her breakfast of protein and self-reproach and returned to her room, where she retrieved the smooth stone from the night before and a cold metal hoop almost fifteen centimeters in diameter. She did not possess a discblade herself; Zeison Sha Initiates who were knighted as Warriors built their own discblades as a rite of passage, an eventuality she hoped to meet at some point. Foyi had left her the metal hoop to allow her to practice the test she had so many difficulties in passing, though Tama often found the practice routine even more taxing than the actual test, as she had to levitate and telekinetically manipulate both objects herself. When Tama had addressed this fact to Foyi and asserted that attempting practice in such a manner was "cheating", Foyi had flippantly replied, "If you can do the practice successfully, the actual test will be a slice of patogga." So far, Tama had been unable to move the stone through the spinning hoop, or keep the hoop spinning while also moving the stone through the air. Granted, she had only practiced a handful of times, even though Foyi expected her to be studying, practicing, and becoming familiar with the Force techniques of the Zeison Sha every day. Especially the telekinetic powers, which were the focus and pride of the entire Zeison Sha tradition. And as was her lot in life, using the Force for telekinesis required far more effort and exertion on her part than it should have. Most Force-sensitives raised by Zeison Sha parents were juggling their toys midair and lifting their parents off the ground by the age of three. But for Tama, telekinesis had always come to her with only vigorous education and great mental strain. Foyi had also been puzzled by Tama's apparent learning "block", though she had never explicitly said as much, and had encouraged Tama to "submerge" herself in the Force before she ever tried to manipulate it, to let it "flow" through her. Tama had noticed that Foyi often used aqueous analogies when describing the Force, but this only served to continually confuse the younger Twi'lek. When she felt truly connected to the Force, she experienced it more as an overwhelming but comforting stimulation of all her senses at once. She would hear soft, calming music in her ears, smell a sweet aroma that reminded her of the sweesonberry rolls her mother used to make, the feeling of a comforting caress on her skin, the taste of refreshing liquid on her tongue, and bright auras of light around all objects she could see, bleeding into each other in a scintillating morass of sensation. The Force was not water to her, or anything closely resembling it. It gave her sensation and information to attract, enhance, and stimulate all of her senses to varying degrees. Using the Force to push an object further away from her resulted in a tactile sensation on her palm, the texture of the object as real to her at a distance as it would be if she were to physically touch it. Sensing her sister in the Force, even at great distances, was like hearing Foyi whisper encouragement in her ear, or the sound of her laughter at an unknown joke. And her rising anger was a growing thunder in her ears and a bitter taste in her mouth, like blood trickling down the back of her throat.
Tama put aside her musings and steeled herself, settling down on the carpet and placing the hoop and stone before her. She stilled her breathing and let her bodily processes slow, everything from her thudding heart to the squamous pulse of blood through her veins. She emptied her mind of her emotions, first letting go of her discouragement and apprehension, then removing her anticipation and excitement. The past did not matter anymore, and neither did the future. She was here and now, in this room, in this house, on this world in a galaxy teeming with nigh-endless stars and planets spinning through the black. The only things that existed for her were the stone, the hoop, and the Force. Colors swam through her eyes, music entered her ears and undulated through her brain. She could feel the Force like a comforting embrace, the longing clutch of a long-lost and neglected friend. It called to her as she called to it with every fiber of her being, extending herself past her physical limitations and letting something else far older and more knowledgeable than herself inside her, filling her to the brim.
Her hand rose slowly from her lap, the skin tingling as a cool breath of fresh, lukewarm air hissed past her wrist and rose small bumps up and down her arm. The Force vibrated in her fingers, and she imagined the silky, glassy exterior of the stone between her fingers, moving through the air around her head. The stone quivered a moment, then rose seemingly of its own accord to float lazily in front of her face. Her other hand rose, and the hoop's cool metal surface graced her palm; the actual object ascended shortly thereafter, and a flick of her wrist sent the hoop spinning through the air, moving about in tight circles. She heard the music begin to grow discordant, the taste on her lips becoming more bland as her concentration and connection to the Force grew more tenuous.
The stone wants to go through the hoop. You exist merely to help it get there.
Tama recentered herself, and began imagining the stone sailing through the middle of the metal hoop without touching the spinning metal. The stone wiggled midair for a moment, then sliced through the air and seemingly attacked the spinning hoop, but it bounced off with a metallic clang she was far too familiar with. Anger swelled within her, and her hands grew hot again, the music becoming heady and intense, fueling the fires of her rage that began to crackle up within her abdomen. The stone whirled around and came zipping at the whirling hoop at a different angle, but the metal deflected it again. The hoop began to shake as well, and Tama could feel the sweat coursing down the back of her neck. The stone curved inward again, and again the faltering hoop denied its passage. She cursed under her breath as she felt her connection to the Force and the control she held over the two objects slipping, and desperately she tried again, but to no avail.
Tama let the objects drop to the rug and put her head in shaking hands, wiping sweat from her brow. This exercise was ridiculous. When or where in the galaxy would she ever need to throw a stone through a spinning hoop? This was the definition of humiliation and an aggravating waste of her time. Was this truly a traditional Zeison Sha test, or was this a cruel, immature joke her sister was playing on her?
Tama silently admonished herself. This was not Foyi's fault. This setback was her own, and she must overcome it herself. She pushed the anger away from her and let its icy clutches on her body loosen and fall away. The stone and hoop rose in the air again, and the hoop began spinning, but this time it wove and bounced through the air, just as Foyi had done the night before. Tama focused on the hoop first, making certain it whirled and jigged around as it should. She imagined the trajectory the stone would have to take to pass through the hoop unmolested, saw every spin of the hoop as if in slow motion. The stone hovered beside it, coming close but not yet venturing through the spinning metal. Tama was still watching the hoop, watching as the thin metal revolved and whorled, appearing to slow more and more until it seemed to be barely moving. Then, she urged the stone to leap through the space, as it was now slow enough for it to safely pass through, and without further ado, the stone meandered through the hoop and emerged from the other side unscathed.
Tama blinked several times in surprise as her unfocused vision became aware of the immediate reality about her. The hoop was still spinning as fast as she could manage, and the stone still following it like a lost anooba pup. It took her a moment to process that the stone had actually slipped through the spinning ring. And it had felt effortless, even predetermined, because she had stopped focusing on the stone and instead became familiar with the metal hoop's rhythm and motion. The hoop, or discblade, was the object of the lesson; it was simple to throw a stone around, but one must be intimately aware of and in tune with the end goal, the destination of the stone as well. It was a lesson in awareness and mindfulness. Before she could stop herself, she felt overwhelming excitement boil over within her, and she leap to her feet with a enthusiastic, "Stang, yeah!"
Her excitement caused the Force to swell within her, like she had been starving one moment and full of rich, delicious food the next. Consequently, the stone and hoop were flung away from her, clattering to either side of the room, as she had lost her telekinetic grip in her excitement. But it did not bother her, for she had finally passed the test. And not merely by chance or mishap, but because she had finally understood the exercise and how to complete it. She hurried to the rug again, dropping into a squat and using the Force to call the two objects to her, which both began revolving around her once more as she focused her telekinetic powers. It was a simple thing to watch the revolving hoop, to become intimately familiar with its motion, as if time did not run as quickly for the metal ring as it did for every other object in existence. It was a simple task to move the stone through the hoop, to imagine it passing through the whirling space back and forth, even doing little midair whorls and loops as it did. An hour passed, and by that time, she had made the stone jump through the spinning hoop a half-dozen times, and did it in style for the majority of those. By the end of the hour, Tama finally felt confident that she would be able to pass this test when Foyi required it of her, and her training could resume to new, more challenging tests.
Tama did not fear the challenges that her sister would throw at her in the unknown future. She believed that this test, above all other lessons she had learned up to this point, had taught her how to be truly aware of all aspects of a challenge. To not only focus on the catalyst of a goal, but the goal itself. To remain in the present, to extend one's senses until nothing in her present environment surprised her. To not only use her own senses, but to rely on her instinct, her feelings, her perceptions, to which the Force constantly nudged and whispered.
To trust the Force.
Tama spent some time tidying up the kitchen and her room, more to waste idle time than out of any responsibility to clean up after herself. She wanted Foyi to come back home so that she could show her sister her success. But Foyi remained absent; it was not uncommon for her older sister to leave and be gone on various errands and tasks for the entire day. And of course, Foyi never consulted with Tama, and only rarely bothered telling her sister where she was going or what she was doing.
Tama put aside the remaining dishes with a sigh and retreated to her room, where she retrieved her coat and cloak, in which she swaddled her form with. Wherever Foyi was, she was most likely busy disposing of the stolen stormtrooper bike, which could take an inordinate amount of time, especially if the local Imperial forces were out on patrol today. She hated waiting around and doing nothing anyway when there were so many more interesting things she could be doing, fascinating people she could be talking to. Even if her sister did not approve.
Tama slipped through the door of their home into the blustery cold, the wind, not as strong or prevalent as the night before, still carrying a chill that felt like it was gnawing the flesh from her bones. She readjusted the overlarge hood on her head and the heavy muffler about her nose, mouth, and chin. Snow and sleet were whipping through the air in intermittent sheets, clinging to her cloak and burning against her skin. The air rushed through her nostrils and throat like burning ice, scrubbing the passages raw, leaving them sore and her gasping. But winter, no matter how fearsome it was, was no stranger to a native of Yanibar, and so she merely pressed forward, huddled against the frigid fangs of the wind and the ice it brought with it.
In the streets, the low buildings of the town served to provide some relief for foot traffic from the oppressive winds, though it invariably created impromptu wind tunnels that seared what little skin she had left exposed under her cloak. She passed the occasional resident, and steered wide of a small contingent of snowtroopers, who marched in perfect military cadence, despite the snowdrifts and the strength of the wind. Tama noticed with some suspicion and not a small amount of concern that there appeared to be a greater Imperial presence on the streets today. She could not help but wonder if Foyi's actions from the day previous were the cause of this increased attentiveness by an understaffed and under-supported garrison on the edge of the Outer Rim. She momentarily considered going back to the house and waiting for her sister to return, or even going out to Foyi's usual haunts and warning her, but she was most likely kilometers away. Besides, Foyi was a Zeison Sha Warrior, fully aware of the consequences of her actions. If she could not handle herself, there was little Tama could do to aid her.
Tama ducked through side streets and slunk along alleyways, trying to stay away from the main avenues to not only avoid the occasional vehicular traffic, but more importantly, the Imperial patrols. She enjoyed the narrow alleys, anyway; this was where the town's underworld, such as it was, thrived despite Imperial oppression. Places and passages like these were where the few remaining Zeison Sha met in secret, sometimes coordinating strikes on Imperial emplacements and supply lines, always attempting to subvert their rule over this planet, and to make invalid their claim over the lost Sha Kalan. She was not an accepted or recognized member of the Zeison Sha yet, but she liked to believe that meandering through such places made her a part of something greater, something good, something that refused to be corrupted by the rotten core of the Empire. She felt a part of it all, in spirit, if not in actualization.
But it was the destination that so excited her, that drove her forward through the unending snowstorm, to the edge of town, where many of the most recent and grungy buildings had been established. Her goal was the spaceport, a small collection of docking bays and hangars, such as they were, that drew traders of varying levels of scruples from all across the galaxy. Inevitably, these hangars were accompanied by the small but colorful sprawl of cantinas, junk stores, chop shops, pawn markets, and other such entrepreneurial businesses vying for the attention of travel-weary outlanders. Tama loved the atmosphere the spaceport generated almost as much as those who chose to visit her lonely and dangerous little dust ball. The feel of adventure, opportunity, and endless experience mixed with the smell of cooling thrusters, spilled oil, leaking hyperdrives, alien sweat, and the tang of consumed spice. The offworlders were just as interesting, members of so many different species, few of which she could recognize, or even name if put to the test. They were all from different backgrounds and hailed from worlds on either end of the galaxy. Some were friendly, most were less so. But she had found that many of them, if amicable enough or under the influence of strong alcohol, would share stories with her when prompted. Some were bold-faced lies recounting imagined personal exploits. Some were rumors and conjectures involving the latest events in the galaxy; she especially enjoyed it when one of the spacers would have a somewhat reliable recounting of the Rebellion against the Empire. Some shared yarns or tall tales that had been told and retold in taverns and cantinas all across the galaxy. And some, especially those who landed in the spaceport on occasion, would simply sit and talk with her, unabashed to be seen conversing with a local kid. There were only a few such individuals, but they were her favorite, and everytime she made her way to the spaceport, she did so with the hope that one or more of her "favorites" would be present to carry on a stimulating conversation with, where her opinions and views mattered as much to them as theirs did to her.
She soon found the outskirts of the spaceport, inherently drawn there by the familiar paths and her own growing excitement. A rumble split the sky as a Corellian freighter circled one of the open-air docking bays, attempting to make a safe landing in the torturous winds and obscured vision. Tama did not know enough about starship designs to identify which line of models the freighter hailed; she wondered if it was truly from Corellia, or whether its pilot hailed from some other planet she would most likely never see. She passed a pair of Houk shambling drunkenly through the snow, skirted a small group of babbling Aleena, and dodged a SoroSuub V-35 Landspeeder as it came roaring down the street near its uppermost speed limit, despite the high velocity of winds and the beings occupying the street on foot. Through the whirling ice she could see the familiar contours of the squat cantina she always visited, a popular watering hole for the largest and most interesting variety of spacers, smugglers, and scoundrels she had found in the spaceport. Its dirty, windowless exterior was not inviting to the average, local customer who just wanted a drink and some light conversation, but for the smugglers, spicerunners, and death stick dealers who wanted to meet clients surreptitiously and make a fast cred without drawing too much attention from the lacking Imperial presence on Yanibar, Fezzie's Fogblasters was the perfect joint.
Tama passed a snowtrooper who was looking longingly at the bar, anticipating his shift being over, then slid past a Gotal just emerging from Fezzie's dim interior. The lack of windows made the cantina a particularly dark place, but it allowed its owner and bartender, the eponymously named Fezzie, to set whatever ambiance and mood she wanted with a variety of different illumination and musical techniques. The saloon consisted of a single common room with low tables and large, unwieldy chairs meant to be able to accommodate the varying sizes of posteriors of dozens of species. Some of the tables doubled as dejarik boards or surfaces for sabacc, though there was a management-sanctioned area in the corner for such games of chance, of which Fezzie got a reasonable cut. In the back, a trio of doors led to a pair of refreshers and the bar's backroom, where most of the questionable food was prepared by a Verpine chef. On the far end, a small stage held a holorecording of one of Figrin D'an and the Modal Nodes' concerts, supposedly live from the the Desilijic Complex on Tatooine. The holographic Bith were hammering out a lively rendition of "Worm Case", and the lights in the bar were flashing blue, white, and red in accordance with the beat, which was momentarily disorienting for Tama's vision.
The bar was packed today, the storm preventing most sane pilots from lifting off on their respective, planet-hopping voyages, displaying a staggering assortment of aliens imbibing alcohol, spice, playing sabacc, conversing quietly, or simply sitting, staring off into space. Tama obstinately shoved her way through several patrons making return trips to the bar, then hopped on one of the egregiously tall stools, resting her elbows on the greasy counter but keeping her hands far away from its level surface. Behind the bar was the fascinating automixer machine Fezzie had had as long as Tama had known her, though the machine looked as if it was older than the Clone Wars, and made a teeth-gritting grating sound every time it prepared a drink. Directly behind the bar was a short flight of stairs leading to a raised dais, and upon that miniature stage, scuttling between patrons, was the Chadra-Fan who went by the name Fezzie. Tama had no idea what the diminutive alien's real name was, which put her in the same circumstance as most of the rest of the town, a condition she was certain that Fezzie preferred it that way. She was currently serving an already seriously inebriated Ithorian one of her signature fogblasters when she caught sight of the young Twi'lek and made a guttural chirp in the back of her throat that Tama had come to recognize as a sign of annoyance or displeasure.
"Big Green Fish's gills, kid, I told you to stop coming around here!" came Fezzie's customary "greeting". Despite being a Chadra-Fan, Fezzie was not particularly pleasant nor accommodating, and her voice was surprisingly guttural and masculine.
"Hello to you too, Fezzie," Tama replied pleasantly. "I'm looking for a man. He's an occasional customer of yours. Comes in here a lot."
"Hon, we're all looking for a man. Good luck on finding yours, but I've got paying customers to take care of, so if you could just bounce off back into that blizzard and out of my fur, I'd be mighty appreciative."
Tama ignored the sour response and blunt attempt at ending the conversation prematurely. "His name's Pash. He's human, kind of tall, dark fur on his head, some fuzz on his face, carries a DH-17. Seen him today?"
Fezzie's beady eyes rolled in her head for a moment, then she hissed, "Yeah, I seen him today. Last I saw, he was heading to the 'fresher. You can check in there if you want, but I can't be responsible for anything unfortunate happening to you."
Tama grinned and hopped off the stool, knowing the Chadra-Fan would get progressively more cantankerous if the Twi'lek chose to occupy the seat for much longer. She weaved her way through the crowd, keeping the flickering holographic sign denoting the location of refreshers in sight, until she found herself a nice, quiet seat near those doors. She sat down, and immediately realized she had sat in something sticky, and chose to remain standing. A Devaronian passed her on his way to the refresher, opening his maw in a leering flash of fangs in her direction, to which she responded with a curt nod. There was a whoop of triumph from one of the sabacc tables as a Dug apparently won the pot. The ululation was cut short by his Aqualish opponent punching him the mouth, which began a temporary brawl on the floor. This was cut short by the third player, a Wookiee who reached down, hoisted both aliens in the air, and knocked their heads together hard enough to break skin and induce unconsciousness, after which the Wookiee calmly collected the entire pile of credits from the table and left, humming along to the beat set by "Worm Case".
Tama thought of what Foyi would say if she knew that Tama was hanging around in such a rough and violent place. That thought made her grin all the wider. She loved this place.
Tama started when the refresher door ground open, but her hopes were dashed when an Ishi-Tib stumbled out and nearly tripped over the large, clawed foot of a nearby seated Barabel. Her attention returned to the crowd, casually scanning the faces of so many different lives and stories. What they could all tell her, teach her; the heady thought was marvelous and astounding.
Her gaze ceased its roaming, however, when she locked eyes with another's gaze, focused directly on her. Those dark eyes belonged to a Houk sitting at a booth near the door, dressed in travel-weary clothing and patchwork armor, several daggers and a couple well-worn blasters shoved into holsters on his belt and bandolier. Beside him sat another Houk, so similar in appearance to the first, it made Tama wonder if they were brothers. The booth also contained two other beings, one an exotic Zygerrian, the other a grim Weequay. All of them were disproportionately armed, sporting large, nasty scars, and cartel tattoos belonging to a kajidic she did not recognize. When she cast her glance their way, they were all unabashedly staring at her and her specifically, but upon realizing she had spotted them, they returned their attention to the untouched drinks before them.
Tama's good mood was brought down a few notches as she watched the four strangers for a moment. A small, nagging voice in the back of her mind suggested that Foyi may have been right in wanting her to steer clear of the spaceport; there were plenty of hostile and unscrupulous characters who came through here. She took a moment to stretch out with her feelings, to feel the Force as it made the smell of spice and sweat a sweet aroma, and the sound of the music became a symphonic ode to joy itself. She heard a slight, discordant note coming from the direction of those who watched her, but nothing that made her danger sense scream. Her momentary fear melted away, and she felt peace once more, bolstered by her earlier success in her practice. The Force was with her.
She turned her head at the sound of the refresher door sliding open, disgorging a human male with a slight frame, a rounded face, a short, unruly mop of black hair atop his head and three-days' worth of stubble on his strong jaw. His skin was light, his quick, darting eyes hazel, and creases at the corners of his mouth betrayed his penchant for an easy, if insincere, smile. He was clothed in a dusty blue heavy coat that almost reached his ankles in length. Devoid of sleeves, he left the coat open to show the long-sleeved tunic he wore beneath, as well as the bandolier of stuffed pouches and ammo holders, while a similarly-laden equipment belt held a torn pair of spacer's trousers up. Barely seen in the folds of his swaying coat was the holstered DH-17 Blaster Pistol he kept belted to his side. As he stepped out of the bathroom, a wide grin returned to Tama's face, though he did not initially see her, as he was preoccupied with closing his fly.
Tama rushed to him and embraced him in a surprise hug. He spluttered for a moment, raising his fists as though he were being attacked, but stopped when Tama exclaimed happily, "Pash! You're actually here! It's so good to see you!"
Pash gave a short chortle as he patted her on the back, slightly embarrassed. "Wow. If I knew I was going to get this reception everytime I came to this nowhere dust ball, I would come to Yanibar more often. C'mon, let's sit down, you're making the regulars nervous. Or excited. I'm not sure which, to be honest."
The pair of reunited friends found a booth in the corner, where a half-consumed fogblaster sat, abandoned. Pash sniffed at it, shrugged, and took a swig, gasping appreciatively afterward. Wiping the tears the strong alcohol had raised in his eyes, he focused on the young Twi'lek sitting across from him. "So, how's Yanibar been lately, little wormhead? Boring and ridiculously dangerous as usual?"
Tama giggled and nodded. Coming from anyone else, the slang "wormhead" would have elicited at least a strongly worded retort from her at best, or a punch in the face at worst. But for some reason, she had never felt offended when Pash used the term; it was like his own special nickname for her, made all the more special by the fact that he was one of the few regular spacers always willing to drop whatever he was doing to at least have a few minutes' conversation with her. If Tama had been asked to name any offworlders she could count as friends, Pash would be the only one on the list. "I don't think anyone's described this planet any better. Yanibar's pretty much the same...I guess it's not so bad living here, if you don't mind bored stormtroopers, storms large enough to scare gundarks, and voorcats prowling the wastes. I love it here."
Pash laughed at her sarcasm and took another sip of the stolen fogblaster. "I'll bet you do. I bet you actually asked the powers that be for this kriffin' blizzard that's got all us spacers grounded too."
"Of course. I had to see you and ask how you've been."
Pash gave a self-depreciative smirk. "Well, things have been better, kid. I was doing real good on the swoop racing tracks in The Landing, on Lamaredd. I even got a spot in the Cargo Track 3000, and I was going to make it big. But debts always come back to bite ya, Tama, especially when you're not making enough money to pay them off. So I lost my winnings, I lost my bike, and I hit the hyperlanes again to seek my fortune."
"And how's that going for you?"
Pash made a face. "Well, I'm hauling patogga and sweesonberry rolls for a small-time confectionist on the Wheel. How do you think it's going for me?"
Tama felt sorry for her friend, and she had not meant to let the chuckle that escaped her throat known, but the way Pash had relayed his situation with such a carefree air, she could not help it. Pash gave her a stern face for a moment, but then he broke into another smile and finished off the drink before him. She continued laughing, but finally stifled her mirth and apologized. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh. You just have the worst kind of luck all the time."
He shrugged. "I don't know. I think my luck's been pretty good so far. I mean, yeah, I've fallen on hard times more than once. But I could have been in the spice mines of Kessel by now. I know I've been threatened with it enough times by various government officials. Instead, I'm here, with a cargo hold full of pastries, my best friend on this whole wide world sitting across from me, and Figrin D'an pumping 'The Sequential Passage of Chronological Intervals' straight into my brain. Not to mention this fogblaster curdling in my gut. Sithspit this stuff is nasty. What does Fezzie do, bathe in her alcohol and wring it outta her fur and into the cups? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I taste more Chadra-Fan than I do fog..."
Tama could not help but guffaw at Pash's undying optimism and levity. After a moment, he joined in. Afterward, the two spent the next half-hour or so conversing, catching up on recent events and generally just enjoying each others company. The density of the crowd began to thin out as the wind could no longer be heard from outside, and spacers returned to their ships, hoping to escape Yanibar's vacuous pull before another storm made it unsafe to life off. Pash became less-focused on their conversation as more of the offworlders left, but for Tama's sake, he stayed longer than he probably should have, sharing his exploits and what he knew of galactic events, listening intently to Tama's own opinions about such matters. As if they had any validity, considering she had never once left Yanibar, though Tama appreciated the consideration.
Finally, Tama refused to be selfish and hold Pash back any longer, urging him to get going if that was what he needed to do. Besides, she was still so excited about her completion of the disc and stone exercise, that she feared if she talked much longer, she would discuss it, and thus reveal her Force-sensitivity. This was something she could never do, not even to a friend such as Pash. It was far too dangerous a galaxy for Force-sensitives to actively broadcast their powers and connection, and while she could never see Pash turning her into the authorities considering his own checkered history with the law, there were ears and eyes everywhere.
As Pash stood, adjusting the lapels of his coat, Tama looked up at him forlornly and asked, "So...where is the big man of fortune going next?"
Pash grinned. "Well, I gotta make that delivery to the Wheel. I'm already a day late on that shipment, and will probably be another one considering I was hung up by this storm. Which is a shame, considering pastries are an incredibly time-sensitive matter, as you must know."
Tama giggled. "I didn't, but I do now."
"From there, I've been thinking about checking out the scene on Alderaan. I've heard there's good money to be made there for dashing rogues such as myself, and the countryside's beautiful. Lots of opportunity and a change of scenery should do me some good. I'll tell you all about it next time I'm out this way."
Tama embraced him again, feeling a lump in her throat. "Come back soon, alright?"
He patted her on the head. "I'll be back before the next big storm."
"So...tomorrow?"
He laughed at the prompted response to his joke. "If only, Tama. You take care of yourself, little wormhead."
"You too, Pash."
And thus they parted, Pash striding from the cantina and tossing a rakish last wave to the Twi'lek before walking through the door and into the calming weather beyond. There were still a sizable number of people present in the bar, but they were much more calm than their earlier counterparts, and consisted of mostly local regulars. The interesting time at Fezzie's had passed, and Tama still found herself bored, and more than a little sad she had been forced to bid goodbye to someone she genuinely enjoyed spending time with. Feeling somewhat dejected, she began to meander her way to the door, until she reminded herself of passing the test earlier that morning. This immediately brightened her outlook, and with a slight hop in her step, she made for the exit, hoping that Foyi was home now, and they could continue her training so that she might become a Zeison Sha Warrior. Hopefully sooner, rather than later. Fezzie glared at her as she passed, her scowl only becoming more pronounced when the Twi'lek tossed her a cheery wave, then pulled up her hood and ducked out into the snow and wind.
So lost in thought and excitement was Tama that she failed to notice the pair of Houks, the Zygerrian, and the Weequay sitting together standing as she left. Only when she had exited the establishment completely did they begin moving, leaving their drinks untouched as they followed her passage through the door.
The wind had definitely lessened in intensity, and the snow did not sting her face quite so harshly as Tama emerged into the suddenly-too-bright world. She blinked a few times to shift back into normal light vision, then reset her hood and scarf, and trudged through the drifts across the street, walking parallel to the spaceport in an attempt to reach the alleys and sidestreets she knew so well. She noted with some concern that there appeared to be a much larger number of snowtroopers on the streets, several squads of which were led by officers. And most of them seemed to be converging on the spaceport, even as the sky was rent by the thunder of starships lifting off from their berths and rocketing into the atmosphere. Something out of the ordinary was definitely occurring; she had never seen such activity from the Imperial forces on Yanibar. She hoped neither Foyi nor Pash were somehow involved in this latest development.
Tama darted across the street and out of the way of a Reconnaissance Troop Transporter as it arrogantly hogged the road. She ducked into an alley and sighed in relief at the wind was cut down to a negligible breeze. The constant gales of this planet certainly were taxing, even for one born here and used to it. Tama walked swiftly down the alley and emerged into one of the town's many narrow streets, her eyes watching her footing in the deep snow and patches of wind-swept ice. She turned left, and nearly ran bodily into a large, hulking figure standing in her path. Startled, she let out a small gasp as she looked up to the figure. There stood the first Houk she had spotted looking at her so intently in Fezzie's, and beside him stood the other Houk. Both held blaster pistols trained on her torso. She turned to evade them, but standing behind her, boxing her in between the four of them, stood the Zygerrian and the Weequay, also holding blasters at the ready.
"Wha-?" came her surprised exclamation.
The first Houk reached out and seized her right wrist, asserting in his baritone voice, "Yer coming wid us, wormie."
"Just stay quiet, and you won't be hurt," the Zygerrian said behind her in low, dulcet tones, his grammar and accent suggesting a far more cultured background than his Houk counterparts.
Tama acted completely out of fear, her instinctive reaction causing her to throw caution and secrecy to the wind. Her free hand came up, palm facing the Houks, and she willed them to get away from her. The Force shimmered around her, and the two Houks took the invisible push directly in the guts, throwing them bodily in the air, where gravity deposited them fifteen feet away. Suddenly free, Tama sprinted to the side even as she heard blasters behind her discharge, the Weequay bellowing something in Huttese. She tried to scramble across the street, but the ice beneath her feet betrayed her, and she found herself falling flat on her body. She coughed as the air was threatened to be knocked free of her lungs, and there was sudden pain as a large, heavy boot connected with her ribs. Gasping, she was hauled to her feet by the Weequay, while one of the Houks picked himself out of the snow and seized her wrists, snapping a pair of binders on them.
"What the kark was that?" the other Houk spat as he struggled to his feet, wheezing.
The Zygerrian's leering face was suddenly swimming before her pain-shrouded vision. "I think this little wormhead's some sort of Jedi."
"Jeedai?" came the Weequay's response. "Is myth!"
"Yeah? And how do you explain a girl who weighs forty kilos tossing Warg and Utt like stuffed animals? Remember Captain Vri said our buyers' got special interest in younglings with 'talents'? This Jedi girl's gonna make us rich! Plus she fits 'is criteria regarding her age, if I''m a good judge of Twi'lek ages..."
"No," came the Weequay's response. "Is no such thing as Jeedai."
"No one cares if there is or isn't Jeedai," one of the Houks bellowed. "Git 'er off the street an' back to the ship 'fore-"
A single voice rose above the wind, echoing off the buildings, the voice thick with desperation and threat. A voice familiar to Tama's addled mind. "Hey, murglaks! Let go of my sister! Now!"