Luke Skywalker would be the first to tell a stranger he didn't know a lot about a lot of things. The galaxy was a vast place after all. But he was rock-solid sure about the things he did know, and Luke Skywalker knew Hutts.
When he had been six years old, Uncle Owen had taken him aside one late morning and told him about Hutts. They had just finished their chores—at that age, Luke hadn't been much help with the vaporators, but Owen often had him tag along to learn basics and even then Luke had possessed an aptitude for mechanical tasks, small hands, and a willingness to learn. They were returning to the homestead for an early lunch. It hadn't been the first time Luke had heard of the Hutts, as they were a constant topic of conversation in both the Lars homestead and the greater community of Tatooine moisture farmers that had been Luke's whole universe, but it had been the first time Owen had sat him down to talk about them.
Owen told him about Jabba in simple terms. About the Hutt crime syndicate and its power on Tatooine—the power that came with wealth and violence and the willingness to use both. He told Luke a little about the Hutts more generally, and their galaxy-spanning crime cartels.
When Luke was a bit older, Beru and Owen taught him how to fire a slugthrower. Luke needed to know how to defend the homestead against Tusken raids, which happened every now and then especially when water was particularly scarce, but his aunt and uncle had made it clear that the Tuskens weren't the only threat they faced. Jabba's people were dangerous too… and when you fought Jabba's people, you were not allowed to miss. The Tuskens would just vanish into the desert if you looked like a tough enough prospect, but Jabba's thugs always came back.
Luke learned not to miss.
For a couple years, when he had been in his early teens, Jabba's minions had started pressing on the farmers. Luke had learned how to act stupid and scared, and to always point those minions in the direction of even wealthier game… usually in the direction of the nearest Krayt lair. He could still remember one time he'd convinced a pair of Jabba's thugs that one of his friends had found some treasure deep in the Jundland Wastes. After they left, talking excitedly to one another in a language they hadn't known he spoke, he rushed home to get his slugthrower, just in case they came back wounded and looking for payback, but he never saw them again.
He kept forcing himself to not reach for the blaster he had tucked in his hip holster. Mara insisted he carry it, so he did, and feeling its weight reminded him of those shooting lessons with his aunt and uncle.
Breathe steady, place the sight where you want the shot to go, let your finger take up slack on the trigger and know that when you pull, you can't take it back. So you always have to be sure.
Walking through the narrow, winding streets of Nar Shaddaa, between buildings (or through building complexes) was more like Coruscant than Tatooine, but the place still felt eerily familiar to him. Nar Shaddaa was different from Tatooine, to be sure. But it reminded him strongly of home, nonetheless. The way the people carried themselves wasn't that different from what he'd seen in Mos Eisley.
The shared characteristic of both places?
The Hutts.
Mirax and Mara were a pace ahead of him, chatting amiably about Talon Karrde's smuggling operations. They didn't say much of substance—of course not, given where they were—but the two were sufficiently well-versed in the shared vernacular of the Smugglers' Alliance that they could have an entire conversation about shipping routes and communications procedures without much fear of a casual observer learning anything of value. Mirax led the way through the busy streets of Nar Shaddaa, guiding them out of the Corellian District. They emerged from the narrow confines into an open space between structures, which towered all around them, a glitter of transparisteel and neon lighting, and jumped into one of the available airspeeders. The automated systems accepted Mirax's instructions about their destination, and then the three of them lifted into the sky, suddenly many hundreds of feet above the ground, picking up speed and joining the lines of light traveling through the wider spaces between Nar Shaddaa's spacescrapers in the sky.
He could feel it, all around him. The longer he was on this moon the harder it became to ignore it. The misery of so many, enslaved and exploited, taken advantage of by the few all the wealth flowed to. He knew that slavery had existed for a long time—any native of Tatooine did, and Owen and Beru had told him that his grandmother had been a slave, before Owen's father had bought her freedom—and that slavery was deeply ingrained in Hutt society. That reality snarled in Luke's stomach, a knot of revulsion that could grow into something very Dark if he let it.
"Sometimes it's good to be disruptive," Mara had said while they were on Dathomir, observing the society of the witches and the effective enslavement of the men of that world. Somehow, Dathomir had never bothered him as much as Nar Shaddaa did right now, and Luke wondered if maybe it should have bothered him more.
He caught Mara looking back at him. Wordlessly, she arched a single eyebrow. She didn't need a mental touch to communicate—that expression said it all. Are you all right?
He nodded back a bit too stiffly.
Mara eyed him skeptically, but nodded back and resumed her casual conversation with Mirax. Nevertheless, a moment later, he felt the warm reassurance of her thought-presence slide up his neck and soothe his spiky thoughts as Mirax hailed a robo-hack.
After a thirty minute ride in a dingy, droid-piloted airspeeder, they arrived at the outskirts of the central Promenade. The spacescrapers were taller and more brightly lit, surrounded by a thick cloud of airspeeders and spaceships. Landing pads were busy, populated by expensive yachts and prosperous-looking, well-maintained freighters. This place was permeated with wealth and energy. Luke leaned towards the window of their speeder, peering down below, and for the first time in a long time he saw a Hutt, its entourage of droids and supplicants surrounding it, traveling ponderously on an elevated slab of a repulsorsled.
Just like Jabba.
"Beldorion's estate isn't in the center of the Promenade," Mirax said, jerking Luke out of his extended reverie. "He's not rich or well-connected enough to demand that, and I'm under the impression that he has only been back on Nar Shaddaa for a few years, after decades away. So we'll have to do a little more walking after this bucket puts us down."
"Where was he before that?" Luke asked, wondering what little rock the minor Hutt had found to prospect.
"I'm not sure," Mirax admitted. "When people have spoken about it with me, their stories were a bit vague and confused. I don't think any of my normal contacts really know. It was either someplace pretty remote or Beldorion kept a very low profile." She popped the airspeeder's side hatch and slowly swung her legs out; Mirax's pregnancy was progressing, and she was not quite as nimble as he would normally have been. Luke and Mara did not offer to give her a hand. They had tried that once; not again. .
"I had never heard of him," Mara said. "Not even when I worked for Karrde, so he'd have to be far from the heights of Hutt power, a nobody in the cartel and kadjics."
Mirax's response was a bit labored, and she finally turned towards Mara. "He doesn't have a clan, so he has no route to power that way," she said. "And I never got the impression from him that he was interested in power." She shrugged. "Though, it's hard to say. Hutts aren't the easiest sentients to read." She nodded towards a huge open square, shining with orange light, which led into numerous adjoining, wide boulevards. "This way."
The first surprise was that the palace wasn't one.
Mirax had mentioned that Beldorion wasn't like most Hutts, and was without the casual grandiosity that typified their culture. But even still, the building that Mirax led them to lacked a sufficiently palace-y feel, especially when compared with Jabba's or any of the other governor's or Moff's residences he'd had one or another reason to visit over the years. In fact, Luke thought with a degree of cautious bemusement, it looked nothing so much as a high-end office building. Slightly upscale and refined, but with a minimalist flair. It didn't stand out compared to the buildings around it; at the end of a winding street, there was a fair gap between the row it ended and the next one, which a myriad of airspeeders used as a shortcut.
Once inside, the minimalist flair was only more apparent. The hallways were sleek, clean, and well-lit—all traits Luke did not associate with Hutts—and wide enough to permit a Floating Fortress to pass along if not easily, at least with room to spare. A pair of guards at the end of the hall were not the expected Gamorreans, or even rough-looking humans, but a pair of Evocii in tailored suit-jackets with the slight bulk that suggested armorweave and concealed weapons. That was surprising, given the history of enslavement and abuse the Hutts had inflicted on that species over the previous few thousand years—it was rare for a Hutt to allow an Evocii in their presence armed for any reason. Neither of the figures appeared in any discomfort, though, and Luke saw no sign of a slave collar or other device intended for a similar purpose.
Mirax approached the guards and held up her datapad. "We are here to see Beldorion, at his invitation," she announced. "I have here approval to enter, given to me by Stek."
The Evocii evaluated the datapad, scanned it, and then stepped aside silently to let them pass. Just inside the doors they were greeted by Stek. The Iyra was not carried by the repulsorlift that had brought him to the bar the day before. Instead, the three-tentacled sea creature slithered across the floor towards them with remarkable speed, leaving behind a slick trail of moisture that was cleaned up promptly by a trio of brush-wielding mouse droids that followed in his wake. "Master Trader Terrik, Jedi Skywalker, Jedi Jade," the Iyra greeted them, its four eyestalks—each one mounted evenly on one quarter of its body, aligned with its three tentacles and one stump where Stek had apparently lost a tentacle—swiveling to look at all of them at once. "It is my pleasure and honor to welcome you to Master Beldorion's personal enclave. If you'll come with me, I will take you to him."
The sides of the hallway had, just along the wall, a slight depression which was filled with water. As they moved, the Iyra consistently reached out its tentacles and dabbed them in the water, apparently in order to stay hydrated. Luke wondered if being and Iyra on Nar Shaddaa was roughly the same as being a human on Tatooine. Behind the Iyra, the three mouse droids raced alone, preventing the floor from becoming slippery in his wake and consistently staying out of the way of the three humans following.
The route they took was a circuitous one. While the hallways were well-lit and lacked the claustrophobia maze-like layout of Nar Shaddaa's alleyways, the building was laid out on a complicated grid, and Stek had them turn several times. Beside him, he could feel Mara concentrating, memorizing the way they had come. Luke let her focus on that, because he found himself endlessly distracted by the items they passed as they traveled those halls. Small alcoves recessed the walls at seemingly erratic intervals, and in each one was some kind of artifact. A preserved sculpture, a banner from a world Luke didn't recognize. A stand of antique Mandalorian armor and weaponry.
Stek didn't mind when Luke paused for a close look at the exhibits, and Luke wondered if Beldorion would let Tionne come to see everything the Hutt had collected here.
The farther in they went, the more common it was for the artifacts to be Jedi in origin. A set of archaic Jedi robes, not too dissimilar to the ones Luke wore nearly every day. A lightsaber, complete with an extended description of its original owner. It reminded Luke strongly of the Jedi Museum on Coruscant that the Emperor had turned into his personal playground, although not suffused with the sense of menace he had worked so determinedly to dispel.
In spite of his fascination, and despite the lack of that kind of palpable Dark Side presence, Luke nonetheless began to feel a strong coldness creeping up the back of his neck. Maybe it was the Dark Side, just better hidden. But, Luke admitted, it could just be his own, far more natural discomfort.
He was going to meet a Hutt, after all, and his time in Jabba's palace Luke had gotten closer to the Dark Side than he had at, perhaps, any other single time in his life, Palpatine included. He had hated Jabba the Hutt, for what Jabba had done to Tatooine, to his grandmother, to other moisture farmers, and to Han, and that hatred had been a subtle knife, egging him on—and blinding him. Perhaps that coldness was not the Dark Side at all, but merely his own biases, and Luke did his best to acknowledge and control them, reminding himself that such things were very much still of the Dark.
Besides, he reassured himself, he trusted Mirax. He trusted this Hutt's own self-interest. And he trusted his and Mara's ability to improvise, if improvisation became necessary. After all, the Hutt had not disarmed him or Mara. Both of them still had lightsabers at their belts, among other less obvious weapons.
Stek stopped before a large door plated with what looked like capital-ship grade armor and guarded by two more Evocii, this time bearing blaster rifles, and extended a single tentacle to the retina-scanner in front of it. After a series of slightly-ominous thumps, the blast doors unsealed and swung open.
The party entered what turned out to be a small amphitheater.
Luke was struggling not to project his experiences at Jabba's onto the scene unfolding before him, and despite scanning for a hidden trapdoor at the center of the room, he was surprised yet again. More antique artifacts studded alcoves around the large room, and instead of fawning sycophants, armed mercenaries and chained dancing girls, a vast array of open-plan desks with HoloNet connections took up most of the space, worked by a diverse range of species from Gran to Gungans, each in a slightly individualized business-casual suit, and each typing furiously away while speaking into ubiquitous headsets. It was the very model of a modern day-trader's office, but no one was shouting or running. Everyone was calm, and working in sync.
He didn't have to look far to find Beldorion. The Hutt was of all things… toned and fit for a Hutt, resplendent in a Mandalorian style undress tunic custom-cut to fit his massive frame. Beldorion was wiggling away forward on a massive treadmill, one built into the center of the room, while he rumbled away on a Hutt-sized headset of his own in resonant Huttese.
Compared to Jabba, Beldorion was visibly enormous, and unlike Jabba, he was leaner and more obviously athletic. Luke had never seen Jabba move much, and Leia had managed to strangle the Hutt crime lord with her own, purely human strength, possibly augmented by unconscious Force-use. He was certain that Leia would not be able to defeat Beldorion in the same way. From his athletic wiggle on the treadmill, Beldorion was quite fast despite his size. "Ahhhh," the Hutt said audibly as he saw Luke and Mara approach, and bowed slightly. "[Welcome, Jedi, to Nar Shaddaa]."
"His Majesty, the Magnificent Master Beldorion, bids welcome to Jedi Skywalker and Jedi Jade," Stek translated. The Hutt's majordomo had crawled over to a small pool next to the Hutt's treadmill and slid in, its tentacles submerging under the water while his eyes remained above.
"[Master Trader Terrik, it is rare to see you on Nar Shaddaa. Too rare. Congratulations on the impending addition to your clan.]
His eyes swept over Luke and Mara, assessing with a single golden glance.
"[You have outdone yourself this time. I often asked you for ancient Jedi relics; I did not expect you to bring me live articles of the current vintage. Be welcome also.]" Beldorion's voice rumbled in Huttese.
"Thank you, Eminence," said Mirax, offering a little bow.
Stek began to translate, but Mirax waved him off. "It's all right, Stek. Our Huttese isn't perfect, but we can follow it well enough." She bowed to Beldorion again, a bit more shallowly. "A temporary visit only, you understand. Unlike those previous items, Jedi Skywalker and Jedi Jade are a bit too busy to join your collection."
Beldorion's laugh rumbled over them. It was eerily like Jabba's, but more vibrant, almost friendly. The laughter drew the attention from the army of aliens at the computer terminals all around them, but they did not allow themselves to be distracted from their work for long.
"[I believe I know why you are here, Jedi Skywalker,]" Beldorion said.
"Mirax told you the basics, I believe," Luke said calmly, keeping his tone the same steady, conversational one he often used for diplomatic engagements. Though that tone had done little to make peace with Jabba…
"[Indeed,]" Beldorion replied. The Hutt eyed him closely, even slithering forward off the treadmill portion of the floor. Luke was forced to look up to meet the Hutt's gaze, and next to him he felt Mara take a step closer. "[You wish this to remain between us, I assume?]"
"We do," Mara said firmly.
"[Send them out, Stek.]"
The majordomo contracted his tentacled limbs slightly, his head emerging higher out of the pool. A low wail emanated from him, one that echoed through the space with surprising volume, cutting through the chaotic din of all the workers at all their stations. At once, every screen on every monitor went black. Seemingly unsurprised, the numerous besuited business-barves who had been working those stations pushed back their ergonomic chairs, removed their headsets, and each headed to the nearest exit as if Stek had indicated there was an emergency that demanded evacuation.
Beldorion slithered back slowly, his massive head lowering so it was closer to eye-level with Luke and Mara and his gaze intense. "[You seek an artifact of the Force on this moon, that belongs by legal right to the Hutts and their progeny,]" Beldorion said, his voice slowly tumbling over each word, as if ensuring they were communicated with utmost precision. "[And you believe there is another here, also searching for that artifact.]"
Luke and Mara glanced at Mirax. She nodded subtly, then shrugged her shoulders. "That's right."
One of Beldorion's stubby hands lifted. The Hutt's expression was grimly serious. "[Let me guess,]" he said. "[The artifact is one that gives life to the artificial. Droids, we might call them, suddenly created in large numbers, and encouraged to march out and conquer all that surrounds them.]"
Beside him, Luke felt Mara's sudden spike in tension. He himself felt the same, and instinctively his hand moved towards the saber on his belt. He stopped himself before he took it in his hand. "That sounds like something an Imperial operative would want," he agreed grimly. "Did you seek the artifact already, to know so much about it?"
"[I did not,]" Beldorion replied, just as grimly. "[The artifact has already made its presence known on Nar Shaddaa.]" The Hutt withdrew a small remote and triggered it. Behind him, the back wall suddenly shimmered, revealing itself to be not merely a well-illuminated support for the room's high ceiling, but also a massive flatscreen. Shades descended over the windows, casting the room in darkness. "[This is the Old Industrial District,]" Beldorion narrated as the flatscreen started showing images taken from flying droids, looking down into the rusty ravines and piled scrap between buildings. Far below there were flashes of blaster fire; the droids gradually dropped down for a better view, and revealed a growing firefight between what appeared to be a group of mercenaries and droids that Luke did not recognize. "[This battle is happening as we speak.]"
They watched the battle. Droids were destroyed—many of them, in fact—but they continued to appear out of the adjacent structures. They did not come in overwhelming numbers, but they never stopped coming. "How long has this been going on?" Mirax asked. "And why does no one on Nar Shaddaa know?"
"The Old Industrial District has long been abandoned," Stek explained. "And the Hutt families do not want there to be panic on the streets of Nar Shaddaa. They have isolated the district and forbidden all news stories. So far, the droid infestation appears to be controlled."
"[So far,]" Beldorion rumbled. "[But the battle has been ongoing for days, and what you see—]" he gestured at the screen with his stubby hand "[—has been happening for all that time.]" He wiggled back around to face them, his enormous, muscular Hutt form twisting as he circled. "[Nar Shaddaa is one of the oldest inhabited worlds, and the Hutt kajidics have a long history of collecting powerful artifacts. To find one here is not entirely unexpected.]"
"The Empire has agents here," Mara said. "Powerful ones, ones strong in the Force. They want to capture this artifact to use it as a weapon against the New Republic."
"[Powerful Force-users, aligned with the Dark, want to capture a mysterious weapon to use against the Republic,]" Beldorion said, his voice an oddly sarcastic drawl. "[What a novel concept. Surely after four thousand years they would come up with something more original.]" In spite of himself, Luke smiled, and the massive Hutt's treadmill began to move slowly, at the equivalent of a slow walk, to match its massive user's more contemplative pace. "[But I suppose Palpatine did,]" his gaze swept over Mara, assessing her again. "[Didn't he.]"
Luke frowned. "Will you help us?"
"[Yes,]" Beldorion said. "[I have told you what I know. I will also see to it that you receive any equipment you desire from my armory and clearance to enter the Old Industrial District, in the hopes that you solve the ongoing crisis by ridding Nar Shaddaa of that artifact. If you do, it will be a credit to me among the Clans for addressing a problem they could not solve.]"
"You seem to know a lot," Mara said skeptically. "About Mirax, about the Jedi, about the crisis. About me. Why should we trust you?"
Beldorion's laughter rumbled over them like thunder. "[I am an old Hutt, Jedi Jade,]" he said. "[Older than most. Older than almost all, in fact. Unlike my kin I take the Force and its powers seriously. I had occasion to meet many Jedi of old—Master Fay, Master Yoda, Master Jinn. I also knew when Palpatine took power that remaining in seclusion for the duration of his reign would be best. I had no interest in drawing even the slightest notice of a Dark Lord of the Sith.]"
They all looked over as Mirax's wristcomm started beeping. Luke and Mara looked over at her; Mirax looked back apologetically, and retreated to a far corner of the room, talking quietly into it.
"You didn't answer my question," Mara said to Beldorion pointedly.
"[You are a fascination,]" Beldorion said. "[The Jedi of a new era. Let us bargain. If the very inquisitive Jedi Skywalker is willing to answer a question of my own, I will do my best to set your concerns about my motives at ease.]" His gaze swung back to Luke, and as he stopped moving, the massive treadmill creaked to a halt. "[You don't trust me, do you, Jedi?]" he rumbled in a low voice, almost friendly.
"Is that your question?"
"[It is a start.]"
"No," Luke said, too-calmly. "Would you trust you unreservedly in my position?"
"[As a child of Tatooine,]" the Hutt replied, "[You are all-too-aware of the excesses of my kin. How many members of your extended family have been slaves to the Desilijic kajidic, I wonder? A Jedi you may be, but those are hatreds that run deep.]"
"Yet still you brought me here," Luke replied, "to the center of your power."
"[Power,]" Beldorion rumbled, "[does not reside in tawdry edifices. I brought you here to gain your measure for myself. It was a calculated risk.]"
"Oh?" Mara asked, arching an eyebrow.
"[That the child of Owen and Beru Lars would not take life unless he had to, and that this Emperor's Hand had hung up her vibroknives in exchange for a lightsaber.]" He regarded her with the narrowed eyes and slight smile of sly amusement. "[I would posit that the hanging-up of the vibroblades is only a metaphor, of course.]"
"You are strikingly well-informed," Mara said. Luke could feel her grudging admiration for Beldorion's intelligence resources at the same time as a slight pang of discomfort. His lover was a notoriously private person.
"[In my line of work,]" the Hutt said, "[I have to be.]"
"Ask your question, then," Luke said, with a touch of grim humor, because the Hutt had never specified his exact line of work, "and let us see how well we can inform each other."
"[Your new Jedi Order, what principles guide it?]"
Luke closed his eyes, felt the Force, and spoke. "Service. Service and Justice."
"[Simple guideposts,]" the Hutt said. "[Noble goals. I look forward to seeing how you differ from your predecessors. I have no interest in seeing Nar Shaddaa overrun by an army of droids. Go. Find this artifact. Take it off this world.]"
"Answer the question," Mara ground out. "Why don't you take this artifact for yourself, to use it to take control of Nal Hutta?"
"Please, do not impugn the name of His Eminence Master Beldorion with such calumny," Stek interrupted, in the tones of a dutiful butler attempting to maintain the proper decorum in his well-defined space.
Mara glared at the majordomo; Stek's eye narrowed at her in response.
Beldorion raised a single thick finger, and Stek stilled instantly, while the Hutt resumed his motion. "[People never last, Jedi Jade]" Beldorion said slowly, "[and droids will always wear down and break at the worst possible moment. Too brittle a thing on which to build an empire. As your former master, Talon Karrde, knows all too well, true power whispers. It is there when you wake up in the morning, and when you go to sleep at night. It is guarded as assiduously as your Home Fleet guards Coruscant.]"
Mara was just about to reply, to probe more deeply, but then Mirax came back with a concerned expression. She didn't say anything, but Luke got the distinct impression that they should wrap the meeting up as quickly as possible. He found, though, that there were questions he had to ask first.
"Let me ask you a question. How much do you know about the Jedi of old?" Luke asked, sudden curiosity overwhelming his reservations. "You knew Master Yoda?"
"[Better than most. Better than almost all,]" Beldorion repeated verbatim.
Luke could feel Mara's growing agitation, her consternation at his being drawn into this line of questioning, especially after his revelations about their personal history. But the appeal of the knowledge this Hutt offered… Hutts could live for a thousand years or more, which meant if Beldorion was as old as he suggested, he could easily remember, and even have known, the Jedi of old. "Would you be willing to tell us more about them? Their practices, their attitudes…"
Beldorion's treadmill once more came to a stop. The Hutt slowly leaned down towards Luke, one of his eyes massive through the lens on the headset he wore. "[The Jedi of old are dead, Jedi Skywalker,]" Beldorion said. "[You do not need to know what they did, or the decisions they made. You have all you need to remake your order anew.]" He slowly returned to his full, massive height, towering above the two humans and his majordomo. "[Stek will give you everything he can to aid you in your quest for this artifact. Keep it from the Empire, lest they consume us all with it.]"
"Thank you," Luke said, "And if you change your mind…"
The Hutt glanced over at Mirax and Mara, "[Then I know how to reach you.]"
Reluctantly, Luke let Mirax and Mara lead him back out of Beldorion's meeting chamber.
"What is it?" Mara asked Mirax.
"Trouble," Mirax said grimly.
"Let's see about that armory on the way back then," said Mara.
Less than twenty minutes after their departure from Beldorion's office complex, Luke, Mara, and Mirax arrived back at the hanger that housed the Pulsar Skate. They found a crowd of friendly Sullustans—friendly Sullustans armed to the teeth—surrounding and talking excitedly with Liat. Mirax's copilot was the only one not armed, and her concern faded as she saw the comfortable confidence of the crowd.
"Where do you have the prisoners?" she asked, trying to let Liat's apparent confidence soothe her own concerns. It wasn't like Liat couldn't handle himself—he would never have lasted as her copilot otherwise.
The Sullustan explained—in rapid-fire dialogue that would have been very difficult for most humans to follow—that the two humans were locked in the cabin that they used for such things. Used rather more often than Mirax really liked, actually.
"Let me," Mara volunteered, and took the lead marching up the Skate's depressed ramp. Mirax followed with Luke behind her. Mara banged on the door to the cabin, then pressed the door release. Within were the two Imperials, hands bound, sitting unhappily in chairs, right where Liat had left them.
The woman with red-gold hair was not the one Asori expected to see, but Mara Jade was unmistakable… and her picture had been in the briefing documents that Grand Moff Ferrouz had provided. Beside her, Dreyf made a soft noise of surprise.
"Come now," Mara said bluntly, though there was just a hint of playfulness to it. Like a grown pitten playing with its meal, Asori thought sourly. "If your intelligence staff is any good, you should have known that Mirax and I work together. My being here can't be that much of a surprise." Mara moved to Dreyf, hoisting him off of his chair and standing him up with an obvious glower. "Oh no, Commander Dreyf, you are the intelligence staff. How embarrassing. Hello again. Tell me, is this a pleasure?"
Dreyf coughed lightly. "It is convenient. We were hoping to meet with you as well, after we persuaded Master Trader Terrik to take us to Coruscant."
"Liat says your disguises needed some more work," Mirax observed skeptically.
"Persuaded Master Trader Terrik to take you to Coruscant," Mara echoed. Asori watched as Mara and Mirax's eyes met briefly as she again counted the number of visible weapons in the room not in proximity to her while guessing about all the concealed ones… behind them was another figure, and that was—
"Why did you want to go to Coruscant?" Luke Skywalker asked. He wore a thoroughly boring spacer's jumpsuit rather than his now-signature Jedi robes, but his presence was unmistakable. Asori felt surprise at his visage though. Rebel propaganda had shown him with twinkling, almost joyful blue eyes. The discerning gaze she felt herself sink into was more akin to an ice-cold comet fragment.
Jade was before her in an instant, hoisting her to her feet; Asori stumbled, then caught her balance. "My name is Captain Asori Rogriss. I come on behalf of Grand Moff Ferrouz and Admiral Pellaeon," she announced, trying to mimic the dignity of a career diplomat. It was hard with her hands restrained behind her back, she kept wanting to move them to add some emphasis to her words. "To consult with General Wedge Antilles."
"Rogriss?" said Luke thoughtfully. Asori felt a pervasive sense of discomfort—emphasized greatly by the wrenching where the binders around her wrists kept her hands locked together—and to her great relief he waved his hands in a small gesture to undo her bindings. The things were Imperial-issue, and Asori knew they had all kinds of nifty settings for ensuring the compliance even of a Wookiee.
While she was extremely glad to have them removed, she also knew they were supposed to be uncrackable.
It was also the first time she'd ever seen the Force used. She was a bit surprised she didn't feel more surprised or unnerved than she did.
Next to them, Mara made a soft sound of mild annoyance, and undid Dreyf's—though she did it herself, without the show of power. "Behave," she warned him. "Or I'll let Mirax space you."
Dreyf smiled politely, looked at Mirax, who greeted his gaze with the full force of her unbridled potential for mayhem, and swallowed any further rejoinder.
Satisfied, Mirax turned her attention back to Asori. "Then you came looking for me because you knew I could get you to Wedge?" Mirax frowned deeply. "I don't like that my business and personal ties are so well known to the Empire." She folded her arms across her chest. "What made you think I'd cooperate?"
"Inside information," Dreyf said, a hint of preening pride overriding her professional embarrassment at their capture. "Despite marrying one of the Galaxy's only Jedi and being Corellian Smuggler royalty, you have kept a low profile. We just happen to have expert knowledge."
Mirax glared at him again, and Asori could visualize the airlock. It wasn't hard, they'd passed it on the way in. "I have a message for you," Asori interjected, rubbing her wrists to encourage the full restoration of blood flow as she tried to take the heat off Dreyf. "If you'll allow us?"
The Smuggler Princess gave a gracious wave of her hand.
"I have the message," Dreyf added, producing the small cylinder from a hidden pocket somewhere on his person. "But we'll need a holo-projector."
"Fine." Mirax turned her back on them, opening the hatchway to the rest of the ship.
The party emerged into a larger hallway and were regarded with interest by a cluster of beady-eyed Sullustans. They were still armed with the same nasty-looking weaponry they'd possessed while taking her and Dreyf into custody, but they didn't look quite as bloodthirsty, and did not follow. Mara, Asori noted, never let Dreyf leave her sight… which Dreyf clearly noticed and which made him half-smile, half-wince.
The bridge of the Pulsar Skate was a neat, orderly space, with a co-pilot's seat suited for a Sullustan. The Sullustan in question, Liat, chittered with annoyance when she and Dreyf entered, clearly complaining that they represented a security risk, but Mirax dismissed his concerns with a single wave of her hand. Shaking his head unhappily, Liat turned back to his console.
Dreyf handed the cylinder to Mirax, Mirax handed it on to Liat. Liat scowled at the thing like it was some sort of explosive or poison, then plugged it roughly into a socket.
The fluttering blue image of a woman appeared at the front of the bridge, just inside the forward window. Once famous across the Empire, Wynssa Starflare was not wearing the cosmetics that had been typical to her performances and looked older, though more quietly poised than the promising young starlet she had been, magnificent in a dark gown.
Skywalker and Mirax jerked back in surprise, while Mara narrowed her eyes, regarding the holocom like some kind of dire shade. "Hello, Myri," said the recording of Wedge Antilles' sister, giving a fond, earnest smile that was probably not-rehearsed. "It's been a while. I'm sorry for taking so long to reach out to you, but there really hasn't been a good moment until now. Soontir and I need your help."