#or maybe Jedi space shanties | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

atamascolily · 6 years ago

Text

A Natural History of Tatooine, part 26/?

In which Luke returns to Obi-wan's hut, but it's kinda a letdown. Tor is undeterred, however.

(Previous installments)

(Oh, and the lyrics of the "Correllian shanty" are actually based off a sonnet from Rainer Maria Rilke’s Book of Hours (II,2) that I am fond of.)

Luke leaned against the thick clay outer walls of Ben Kenobi's hut and pulled his knees up against his chest as he strove to remain in the rapidly dwindling patch of shade. It was only a few hours after first dawn, and the heat was already fierce. Mirages of imaginary water flickered out of the corner of his visions - an especially cruel illusion for foolhardy travelers caught wandering without appropriate precautions.

Stay-in-the-shadows was a game he'd played constantly as a child, whether by himself or in the company of a reprogrammed maintenance droid on the edges of the Lars family compound. Later, as a teenager, he'd indulged in a slightly more refined version, loitering outside the general store at Tosche Station with Camie and Biggs and whoever else was around.

He dug a finger idly through the sand, tracing out simple patterns, only to erase them upon completion. There was nothing else to do except sit and watch the desert and wait for Tor to finish the errand that had brought them here. And brood, of course.

He'd spent a restless night in Brother Amaeo's carved enclave in Beggar's Canyon, tossing and turning for hours after an unsettling dream in which he'd was paralyzed while Cray/Callista was dragged away by Tuskens loose on the Eye of Palpatine and Mara hovered over his shoulder in silent disapproval. An hour of silent meditation and prayers before first dawn calmed him before he joined his companions for a simple breakfast on the balcony overlooking the canyon where they'd dined the night before. Then he and Tor descended to the canyon floor, back to where they'd left the Destiny the previous evening.

Much to her disappointment, there was no further sign of canyon krayts about.

"Trust me, you don't want to mess with one," Luke assured her.

"But a dragon--" she protested, and he waved her off.

True to Luke's predictions, the flight to Ben Kenobi's hut was uneventful to the point of boredom. Whoever had chased them yesterday had given up, and no other ships appeared on the sensors to challenge them. Still, he gave Anchorhead a wide berth, emerging out of the Canyon onto the Benzin Plateau, bypassing the flat, featureless expanse of the Great Chott in favor of the endless monotony of the Dune Sea.

Even so, it was hard not to get lost in the stories, the memories that rushed back at him as he navigated. He did his best to remain focused on the controls and the coordinates, and Tor, sensing his mood, did not interrupt him with conversation.

Ben Kenobi's hut was unchanged since his previous visit, just before the Battle of Endor: a white rounded adobe dome, perched on the edge of the Jundland Wastes, overlooking the vast expanse of the Dune Sea. In the desert, with no rain, such dwellings could last for centuries. Inside, it was still the same mess of sand drifts and rubble, picked apart by scavengers and the vagaries of the wind.

The last time he'd been here, he'd nearly collapsed in a feverish sea of memories and visions. He'd made it out to his speeder, and had somehow ended up in the remains of the Lars homestead and watched the twin dawns from the ridge above the family compound. He braced himself for a similar flood of emotions as he entered the room for the first time in ten years... only to be surprised at how little he felt at all.

There was nothing here for him now. He'd laid all his ghosts to rest a long time ago--including Ben--and they'd gone wherever ghosts went when they weren’t pestering the living. Ben might have given Luke his father's lightsaber in this house, but he hadn't left any tangible inheritance for his last apprentice.

Tor fell to digging through the sand drifts with gusto, but Luke had only been able to bear twenty minutes inside the hut before retreating outside to wait for her to finish whatever it was she thought she could accomplish here. He didn't know why Tor had seized on this mad assumption that Ben had hid uneti seeds on Tatooine, but maybe once she was satisfied that they weren't--

Actually, he wasn't sure what would happen then. He had no particular desire to return to Yavin and continue the practice period. Callista was out in the galaxy somewhere, and Mara was unlikely to return any time soon. Neither of them particularly wanted to see him at the moment--not that he could blame either of them, given how badly he'd screwed up.

Here he was, the great Luke Skywalker, war hero, Jedi master, famous and respected throughout the galaxy for his mighty powers and courageous deeds--and yet he'd trade it all to have them back with him a heartbeat. One of them. Both of them. Anything he could get.

He could go to Coruscant, he decided. It would be good to see Leia and Han and the children again, and they would be happy to see him; no questions asked. It was easy to talk to Leia, the way it was easy to talk to Tor, and Han, too, though in a very different way. Both of them would understand what had happened with Callista and Mara, and they wouldn't judge him for it. He would be safe there, sheltered. He could go down to the mid-levels and get some decent pilo-noodles, too. And if Tor continued to let him pilot her ship, he didn't see how she could object to him deciding the course for once.

She'd been right about flying, though. He missed it. Staying ground-bound in the rainy season was chafing at him. All those years, and he was still that eager hotshot, always looking for the horizon, always reaching for what was just beyond his grasp. But she hadn't thought it was a bad thing, the way Yoda had.

What had she said to him last night? "You just have to find a way to make it work, that's all." What did that even mean?

Even in the shadows, it was still hot. The heat didn't bother him much, not anymore. It was hot; that was how things were here. You accepted it or cursed it, but it was easier if you accepted it as a given and moved on with your life as best you could. He hadn't known things could be different until he'd set foot on Yavin for the first time with Han and Leia, flush from their escape from the first Death Star. And what a whirlwind his life had been since...

Since then, he'd had a lot of practice being uncomfortable, enough so that a little heat wasn't a big deal. And here he was again, back where it had all began, more or less. So much had changed, and yet--

Something flickered on the edge of his vision, a break in the monotony. He turned, yanked the macrobinoculars out of the sack next to him and fiddled with the focus to zoom in on the spot in question.

Tuskens. Absolutely no mistaking them. Confused, puzzled, but no sign of agitation or attack--

And then they were gone.

Luke stared, his mind racing through the possibilities. He wasn't worried, exactly - but his last encounters with Tuskens kidnapped by the Eye of Palpatine had been very unpleasant, and the one before that - chasing Artoo down through the canyons with Threepio in tow - hadn't been much better. He couldn't say he was looking forward to more fights should it come down to that. Now that he was aware of their presence, he and Tor could avoid them.

He heard footsteps crunching on the gravel, and jerked the macrobinoculars down more quickly than he'd meant to, even though he knew it wasn't a Tusken who approached him.

"You all right?" Tor asked, slumping down beside him in what little shade remained.

"Sand People," he said to where he'd spotted them. "On the far side of the canyon over there, watching us. They're gone now."

"Should I be concerned?"

"I'm not," Luke said, and meant it. "They were checking us out, but it didn't seem like they meant any harm. I have a feeling that they believe this place is haunted, even though it's been twenty years since Ben lived here."

"That'll do it," Tor agreed. "How does it feel to be back after all this time?"

"It reminds me of the old Correllian shanty, 'Widening Circles'," Luke said. "You know it?"

"'I live my life in widening circles,'" Tor sang. "'Ones that reach out across the stars. I may not complete this last journey, but I surrender to it.... '"

Luke joined in on the chorus: "'Millennia come and go, and I still don't know - am I a falcon, a storm, or a great song?'"

Han was especially fond of that song, and he and Luke had sung it often during the dark, cold, awful days with the Rebellion, when comforts were few and far between. It was, Han explained one evening when they were fixing up the Falcon, the inspiration for the ship's name--only he'd had to explain to Luke what a falcon was. There wasn't anything like those swift-diving avians on Tatooine.

"That strange, huh?" Tor said, when they had finished.

"Are you surprised?"

"Not especially. You have this look about you when you're brooding," she said.

He had to smile at that. She never failed to call him out on it. "Maybe you can write a paper on Jedi social behaviors instead of uneti trees. Or anti-social behaviors, if you prefer. Speaking of which, did you find what you were looking for in there?"

She shook her head. "No. No sign of any seeds or any surviving material that would suggest they were ever here."

Luke resisted the strong temptation to say I told you so. "What about underground?" There were additional living quarters undergrown, spaces for growth tanks and 'vaporator parts and all the necessities for eking out a relatively self-sufficient existence on Tatooine. He'd never personally set foot in them, but he knew they were there.

"Nothing down there except a nest of hive-spiders and a pseudoscorpion, none of whom were especially pleased to have me intrude on their living quarters."

"So, what now?" he asked, as diplomatically as possible. "I was thinking maybe we could go to Cor--"

Tor cut him off before he could finish the thought. "We go on to where the trees are," she said, as if it were obvious.

He stared at her. "Just like that?"

"I didn't think there would be any seeds here," Tor said patiently, as if explaining the obvious. "I was sure he planted them. But this place was on the way, and I thought it reasonable to check to make sure."

"What makes you think he planted them?" Luke asked.

The whole thing had the makings of a conspiracy theory, and he didn't understand it. He knew she loved the uneti trees, was determined to bring them back from their near-extinction--that was why he'd enlisted her help at the Academy, after all--but he wasn't sure why she had fixated so much on the idea of Obi-wan Kenobi establishing a population after the fall of the Old Republic. On Tatooine, of all places.

She was quiet for a while. "Call it a hunch," she said at last. "I know what it's like to be in exile, without any hope of return. I know what it's like to be entrusted with something important. He brought the seeds here, and he couldn't keep them in storage for twenty years if he wanted them to stay viable; he had to grow them out somewhere. That much I know for certain. The only question is if I'm right about where he planted them."

"You think so?" Luke was skeptical, but figured they might as well go and see, since they'd come this far.

And it wasn't like he had anything else more pressing on his schedule anymore.

"Shall we go and find out?" She rose to her feet, reached out a hand to him.

'I live my life in widening circles, ones that reach out across the stars. I may not complete this last, but I surrender to it--'

He accepted her hand, let her help him up. "Yes."

#a natural history of tatooine #fanfic excerpt #my fanfiction

2 notes · View notes

keldae · 7 years ago

Text

Drastic Measures (Chapter Six)

True to Kimble’s word, the sublevel exit left them on the beach. They were sheltered from the main thoroughfares of Raider’s Cove for a few minutes, but Theron knew they wouldn’t have long before they were pursued. “We need to get off this planet,” he muttered. “My shuttle should be nearly finished refueling – if they haven’t impounded it yet, I can remotely pilot it to our location.”

“Would the bounty hunters think to capture your shuttle?” Xaja asked as she warily looked around.

“Hard to tell.” Theron took her hand and tugged her back to the relative shelter offered by the palm trees. “There’s still no actual law enforcement here, is there, Kimble?”

“That would require laws to enforce.” Kimble adjusted his rucksack over his shoulder. “But depending how large that pirate crew is and how smart the captain is, they might have sent people back to the docks to figure out which ship’s yours.”

“Wonderful.” Theron whirled, hearing muffled yells from inside Kimble’s residence. “We can argue a plan later. Anyone in the town who might help us?”

“With a hundred million credits on the line?”

“If we get to the jungle,” Xaja interjected, “we might be able to lose them and get the shuttle to pick us up there.”

“Yes, while trying to avoid every single animal in that jungle,” Kimble complained. “Remember the wampas from the last time we were here?”

“The most the animals are gonna do is eat us. They won’t stab us in the back for credits.”

“No, but the spice runners in there might.” Kimble gestured out in the general direction of the jungle with his hand. “The town’s expanded since we were last here, and there’s a whole lot of disreputable stuff that goes on there, even by Raider’s Cove standards. We go that way, we’re as good as dead.”

Blaster fire rang out overhead. Theron swore and dropped Xaja’s hand to return fire at the bounty hunters emerging from the house. Kimble took position to his right. “We’re gonna be good as dead if we don’t get out of here!” he snapped at the medic. “Best shot is to run back for the landing zones and get to my shuttle.”

“Right through Raider’s Cove,” Kimble sarcastically retorted as he nailed one of the hunters with a shot to the head. It was almost disturbing that the man who specialized in healing people was equally as good at killing them when necessary. “That can’t possibly go badly at all.”

“The entire town can’t be looking for us,” Xaja interjected. “Not yet, at least – kriff!” There was the snap-hiss of a saber blade igniting and a blue swirl in front of Theron. The bolt that would have hit him was deflected back to its origins. Shouts from the hunters changed with the recognition of a lightsaber, and Theron cringed inwardly as he remembered just how many bounties still existed for captured Jedi. “Are the lower docks still accessible?”

“If it’s not high-tide and you don’t mind getting chased by crabs or the odd adventurous pirate, yes!” Kimble shot down another hunter. “Assuming, of course, we get there alive.”

“I’m on it.” Theron blinked a command into his implants, and the interface over his left eye showed him a few vulnerable-looking pipes along the side of the building. He angled his blaster up a hair and fired. The shot hit the pipe, but didn’t make it rupture like he’d planned. “For kriff’s sake –”

The lightsaber suddenly flew past him and zoomed over the heads of the bounty hunters, striking the pipe dead-on. Coolant fluid exploded over the hunters, earning screams of pain and fury; it bought Theron enough time to whirl and catch Xaja as she caught the thrown lightsaber and sagged in his arms. “Oww. ‘Kay, maybe… a small mistake…” she groaned as she shakily attempted to regain her balance. She grasped the lapels of Theron’s jacket just to stay upright, shaking like a leaf and far too pale.

“Two years in carbonite and you still have no self-preservation instincts,” Kimble groaned. “The drugs won’t have kicked in fast enough for you to try using the Force!”

“We’ll argue about that later!” Theron stooped and picked Xaja up. “You know any shortcuts?”

“Yeah, but be ready to drop her and start shooting again.” Kimble started running south along the beach, toward the rocky outcropping that separated the town from the shanty village serving as the marketplace. “This way!”

Any situation that ended with the Chancellor, the Supreme Commander, the Chancellor’s most trusted advisors, and the representative from Zakuul all in one office was a bad situation. Jace tried to ignore the throbbing in his head as he stood at rest behind the seat designated as his, too close to the smarmy-looking git that Zakuul had sent as its representative in the Senate. Several nights of too little sleep and too much brandy as he tried to drown out the pain of his son’s suicide was taking its toll on him. Satele was little better: she’d barely said two words in the days since arriving at his apartment door, face ashen and visibly trying to hold her shattered composure together, and failing spectacularly.

He stood to attention as Chancellor Saresh finally entered the room, flanked by two of the Senate guards. “Ambassador Larill,” she tersely greeted the Zakuulan representative as she sat behind her imposing desk. “I trust you have a good reason for calling a meeting like this on such urgent notice?”

“Indeed, Chancellor. The declaration of war is an urgent matter, is it not?”

Jace’s eyes widened, then narrowed suspiciously at the Zakuulan’s words. What declaration of war? Even if Saresh had been pushing for executive administrative power over the course of the war, any declarations of war (whether by or against the Republic) would have had to have crossed his desk. And he knew that no such notice had come to his attention.

Saresh’s eyes bulged, and her mouth opened and closed twice before she finally snapped back at the Zakuulan. “What do you mean, the declaration of war? The Republic has done nothing but honour the treaty terms your Emperor imposed on us!”

“Have you, then? Then explain this to me, Chancellor…” Larill rested his hands on the desk and leaned forward into Saresh’s space. “Why was there a Republic saboteur laying a plan to attack the Spire’s civilian population?”

“A Republic… what?”

“I know you heard me.” He levelled a cold gaze at the Chancellor. “We have surveillance footage and eyewitness accounts of a reported Republic asset setting highly explosive detonite charges across the Spire. Had he been able to activate them, he would have killed thousands, if not millions, of my people. Sending a spy to my planet with the intention to commit an act of terrorism constitutes an act of war, Chancellor.”

“We sent no spies to Zakuul, and certainly no saboteurs! Civilian-targeted terrorism is beneath the Republic’s standards.” Saresh had regained something of her composure, and her shock had morphed into fury. “If you seek combatants more inclined to attack civilians, you should look at the Empire. Their spies fake my peoples’ accent well enough.”

Larill’s eyes narrowed as a malicious smile spread over his face. “Ah, but would someone from the Sith Empire have attacked my people for the sake of rescuing one of your own?” The smile widened. “Your terrorist was interrupted before he could set off the charges, but he did manage to commit another act of terrorism while he fled: He aided the escape of the Outlander assassin responsible for the murder our Immortal Emperor Valkorion. A former member of your Jedi Order, that woman is potentially more dangerous than even he is.”

“… The Outlander assassin? It’s a myth. No such person from the Republic ever made it onto Zakuul to –”

“Enough of your lies!” The ambassador slammed down a holotransmitter and activated it. The lights formed to show two rotating human faces: one male, one female. “You will surrender the terrorist and the assassin to Zakuulan custody, or we will declare war on the Republic – and this time, no treaty will save you.”

Jace felt the blood drain out of his face — not at the Zakuulan’s words, but at the two images he saw rotating on Saresh’s desk. The woman he recognized; everyone in the higher-up ranks of Republic Command knew Jedi Master Xaja Taerich, or at least knew of her. He’d only spoken with her over the holo a couple of times, but had been impressed by her courage and her attitude of ‘do what needs doing, figure out the diplomatic questions later.’ He’d been as upset as the rest of the Republic when he heard of her death aboard Darth Marr’s flagship (even if he quietly judged her for being there in the first place). The idea that she could be the infamous assassin was outrageous.

The male face made his heart break, and he stomped out the tendril of hope before it could take root. Theron… it can’t be you. Why you?

Saresh’s eyes narrowed as she studied the faces. “The woman, according to all Republic intelligence, is long dead. Xaja Taerich was killed by your forces immediately before the war broke out. I don’t have the man, but I can identify him for you.” She either didn’t see Jace’s eyes widen in horror, or ignored it. “His name is Theron Shan, and he is a disavowed rogue agent –”

“Was a disavowed rogue agent.” Jace almost wasn’t aware that he’d spoken until Larill raised a questioning eyebrow at him and Saresh shot him a murderous glare. “According to my… personal sources, Theron Shan is dead. He was killed several days ago.” Those words still hurt to say, as though every time he spoke them, they were made more real. If he ignored them, perhaps he could imagine that his son still lived…

“Your sources are incorrect, Commander Malcom.” The Zakuulan dismissively turned away from the grizzled veteran. “As are yours, Chancellor. Either that, or you’re lying to me to protect this… Taerich and Shan. Where are they?”

“If I had either of them, I’d give them to you on a platter,” Saresh snapped, and now Jace was convinced she was actively ignoring his glare. She knew Theron had been a personal favourite agent of his, even if she didn’t know of their familial connection as far as Jace knew. “Master Taerich was an arrogant, rebellious traitor to the Republic, and Agent Shan was responsible for the deaths of thousands of Republic military personnel and civilians on Ziost. If they still lived, I would be delighted to hand them over to you and rid myself of two nuisances.”

Theron Shan and Xaja Taerich were two of the best assets the Republic had! Jace silently raged as his fist clenched behind his back. And this is how you honour their memory?!

“Oh, I can assure you that they live still. These images were taken only three days ago.” Larill smirked cruelly. “Emperor Arcann is most displeased with this act of rebellion from the Republic, Chancellor. You will give me the terrorist and the assassin.”

“If I knew where they were, I’d point you right to them! I would hand them over in slave collars!”

“Big words mean nothing without actions.” Larill turned and sauntered out of the office. “You have one standard week to produce the two assets, or Emperor Arcann will retaliate. I wonder what world he’ll burn first… Balmorra? Dantooine? Coruscant itself?”

The door to the office hissed closed, and for a long minute there was silence. Saresh finally lunged to her feet and whirled to face Jace, ignoring the rest of her advisors. “Where is he, Malcom?” she snarled. “I want him – now.”

“What makes you think I know where Theron is? My last report indicated he was dead!” No way was Jace mentioning that his knowledge came from the suicide note Theron had sent him. “If he actually does live…”

“I expect you to know where he is because he’s your bastard son!” The Chancellor exclaimed. “It’s his life or the entire Republic, Commander. I know which one I would choose.” She narrowed her eyes at him, leaning across the table. “Find him – ask his mother, for all I care – and drag his sorry shebs back here or give me coordinates to give to Zakuul!”

Saresh pushed herself back to stand tall with a huff. “And where you find him, you’ll probably find Taerich. They always seemed to be joined at the hip.” She smirked, giving a snort of derisive laughter. “Like father, like son.”

Jace’s face drained of all colour as the furious Chancellor stalked out of the room, followed by her entourage of guards and advisors. How did she know…? Theron. I need to find Theron. What he was going to do after he found his son, he wasn’t sure yet.

He was pounding on Marcus Trant’s office door twenty minutes later, and sighed in relief when the SIS Director finally let him in. “Finally. I need to talk to you. It’s about – ”

“Theron? I was just about to call you.” Marcus handed Jace a datapad. “You need to read this. I heard the ultimatum to Saresh about a minute before I saw this.”

“What –” Jace fell back into a chair as Arcann’s broadcasted message scrolled before his eyes. Images of the two supposed rogues that Zakuul was hunting matched what Larill showed Saresh in the meeting — and the male looked so much like Theron that Jace’s heart skipped a beat. It was an identical match, down to the implants and the haircut and the facial expression. Jace was reasonably sure Theron didn’t have a twin brother.

“One of my agents thinks he’s spotted Theron on Rishi, with a woman who might be Master Taerich. That intel’s only come in an hour ago.” Marcus rested his elbows on his desk and watched Jace absorb the news. “Kriff whatever suicide note Theron sent you — he’s alive, Jace. Alive and getting into more trouble than usual.”

“My son…” Jace set the datapad down and raked his hands over his scarred face, grateful for Marcus tactfully turning his head and ignoring the tear trickling out of the Supreme Commander’s eye. He coughed, regaining his composure. “How soon can your people get in contact with him and get him to safety?”

His life, or the entire Republic. Jace felt sick knowing that he was prioritizing his son’s safety over the people he’d sworn to protect… but he couldn’t betray Theron. Not like this. Not now.

“He’s been actively avoiding SIS contact since he left Coruscant,” Marcus grunted in frustration and picked up his half-empty mug of caf. Taking a sip, he frowned, then put it down. “If that is actually Master Taerich with him, we might be able to reach her. I have a report that one affiliate of the Order was last sighted on Rishi fairly recentl –” He paused as a text tone sounded in the office. “That’s not mine.”

“It’s mine,” Jace said. He numbly reached for his comm, recognizing the tone: it was customized for Theron’s messages. The last time he’d heard that sound, he’d screamed his denial of his son’s suicide note and thrown the device across the room after trying to call Theron and not getting an answer…

Not dead yet. Can’t talk, will explain later. Sorry. T.

“For fuck’s sake, Theron!” Jace shouted at the comm, ignoring Marcus choking on his caf.

Thank the Force for low tide, Xaja thought to herself as the trio hurried through waist-high ocean water. Doc was just in front of them, holding his rucksack with his medical gear on his shoulders to keep the bag dry. Theron was only a step or two behind the medic, still holding Xaja in his arms and frequently casting worried glances over his shoulder. Xaja had offered to get down and run on her own when the throbbing in her head from using the Force had eased somewhat, but Theron had only adjusted his grip on her and refused to set her down.

It was probably a fortunate thing for Xaja, if less so for Theron. She was short enough that the water height would have impeded her movements more than it did the men with her, even without the lingering muscle weakness. Doc’s medicines had made her feel much better, but she could tell she wasn’t whole yet.

The trio darted into the shadows that Bootlegger’s Market cast over the water and Doc took a quick look around. “I don’t see any pirates or crabs yet,” he hissed. “How far away’s your shuttle, Shan?”

“On the other side of the market, naturally,” Theron muttered as he finally set Xaja down on her feet and kept an arm around her back to steady her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, better than I was.” Xaja gave Theron a smile, then craned her neck around to look for any signs of pursuit. “Those hunters won’t be far behind us…”

“Yeah. We need to keep moving. I don’t feel like dying today.” Doc resettled his rucksack on his back, well above the water. “Let’s move.”

“If we can find somewhere with a news terminal on the way, so much the better,” Theron said as he hurried alongside Doc. He held Xaja’s hand tightly, half to support her, half to ensure he couldn’t lose her in the darkness under the docks. “I want to find this bounty posting and see who wants our heads this badly.”

“We can narrow that down with who can afford to pay that much for your heads,” Doc muttered. “Good news is, if we turn you in to whoever’s looking for you, we can probably get enough to afford the cure for the carboni –”

“Not an option,” Xaja quickly said, giving Doc a glare. “We’re not turning Theron in, even if they’re offering the cure itself.”

“I was kidding!” Doc protested.

“Thanks, Kimble,” Theron growled. He tugged Xaja closer to his side, frowning back over his shoulder. “They should have been following us by now,” he muttered. “Why aren’t they?”

“I, for one, am not complaining about that,” Doc retorted.

The spy sighed. “I will be if we’re walking into a trap,” he hissed.

“There were a few other routes we could have taken to get back to the shore and the town itself once we were off the beach,” Xaja pointed out. “Maybe they think we took one of those?”

“Things never go that easily,” Theron grumbled. “There’s gotta be a trap in here.”

“Besides the spice runners, the odd pirate, and the crabs?” Doc looked around. “I don’t see anything else.”

Xaja frowned, considering risking opening her senses to the Force. The splash of ocean water against her thighs made her look down and frown. Hadn’t that just been at her knees? “Doc, what time does the tide come in?”

“Mid-day, usually around 13:00.”

Theron frowned, then blinked in that strange way that let Xaja know he was interacting with his implants, and his eyes went wide. “Would now be a bad time to let you know that it’s 12:53?”

“Kriffing hell,” Doc groaned. “This is not how I thought today was going to go when I woke up this morning.” He squinted into the darkness. “I think the nearest access to surface-level is this way.”

“I guess now we’re going to find out if all of Raider’s Cove is actively gunning for us,” Xaja muttered as she hurried beside Theron. “Is that better or worse than drowning under the docks?”

“Better, I think,” Theron quickly responded. “We can shoot the bounty hunters and get intel while we’re up there. We can’t exactly do that against the ocean.”

“I dunno, drowning sounds like it would be less painful,” Doc piped up.

“If we’re dying here, I want to die fighting,” Theron grumbled. “Not swimming.”

“Guys, maybe less talk about ways to die and more trying to actively avoid dying…?”

“You started it, Red.”

“And now I’m ending it! I’m not kriffing dying until I’ve found a way to kick Arcann’s ass for freezing me for two years!”

Two run-ins with giant shellback crabs and several long minutes of running through rapidly-rising seawater later, and Theron finally ran up the ramp to the market thoroughfare. He immediately dodged between two buildings and shifted to the side as Xaja hurried up beside him, Kimble right behind her. “I vote we never do that again,” the spy muttered as he bent over and focused on breathing. He was far from out of shape, but running and swimming through water that, by the time they’d escaped the lower dock levels, had been up to his chest was exhausting.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with you,” Kimble said as he looked over his shoulder. “Good news is, the meds are still dry.”

“Good,” Xaja mumbled as she rested her back against the wall and closed her eyes. She was shaking, and Theron didn’t think it was from feeling cold this time. He worriedly frowned, placing a hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes again and gave him a weary smile. “I’m okay, just drained.”

“I can believe it.” What had been chest-high for him and Kimble had been nearly shoulder-high for the small Jedi, and there had been a moment of panic for the spy when he almost lost her in the dark water. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, half to reassure himself that she was all right. “Keep breathing, okay? Take it easy for a second. Kimble, can you –”

“On it.” Kimble was already moving over to check on Xaja. “Any muscle spasms? Dizziness? Migraines…?”

Theron crept back out of the alley as he heard Xaja’s negative answers to Kimble’s questions, carefully looking around. No signs of pursuit; no prickles on the back of his neck warning him of danger; no pirates suspiciously looking around for someone matching his description. He frowned, slowly nodded, and made his way over to a public data terminal. Let’s see if Xaja’s the subject of any new bounty postings.

It was easy enough for him to slice into the terminal’s files and connect to the HoloNet, but he didn’t even have to go to a specific bounty forum before the broadcast flashed through his vision. What’s worse, he wondered, realising we’re both going to be hunted by everyone and their mother, or… did they find the explosives? If Xaja ever finds out about that… His face drained of all colour as he mechanically downloaded the broadcast to his implants, then turned and felt his heart leap into his throat when he saw a couple of well-armoured individuals walking down the causeway. More bounty hunters? Or would Arcann have sent agents from Zakuul across the galaxy to find us? He slipped through the crowd and just avoided the hunters’ sight as he ducked back into the alley.

Xaja looked up as Kimble put away his scanner, apparently satisfied with whatever he’d seen in the results. “I was starting to worry, Theron,” she said, then frowned. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Gotta agree with her,” Kimble agreed as he squinted at Theron. “You sure you’re okay?”

“For now,” Theron said. He cast a glance over his shoulder. “But we won’t be okay if we don’t get off Rishi now.” Making eye contact with Xaja, he grimaced. He hated having to say this to her. “The bounty’s legit. Arcann’s after both of us. He doesn’t have our names yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

Xaja paled visibly despite the shadowy alley. “Fierfek. Where can we run to?”

“I don’t know,” Theron confessed. “We’ll figure that out when we’re not here.” He took Xaja’s hand and looked at Kimble. “You’re not on that bounty yet, but…”

“If word gets out I’m helping you, they’ll add me fast enough.” Kimble set his jaw in determination. “I’m going with you. Someone’s gotta keep track of these meds and keep Xaja alive.”

“Good.” Xaja gave the medic a tight smile and stepped back out to the alley exit with Theron. “We’re close to the shuttle, right?”

“Ish. If we’re lucky we might be able to get off-world before those hunters realize we didn’t drown.” Theron stepped out of the alley after taking another hard look around. No immediate danger— he started hurrying toward the docks with Xaja at his side, Kimble on her other side. Don’t make eye contact; don’t draw attention, he silently repeated in his head, over and over again. Just act casual and maybe nobody will notice. Ten more metres passed underfoot. So far so good. See, the ramp’s just ahead. You’re just fine…

The first blaster shot whizzed by his ear. Theron acted on instinct as he whirled and shoved Xaja down, trying to identify the source of that shot. “Shuttle’s two hundred metres to the left, preflight checks are done. Run!”

“Easier said than done!” Kimble yelled back, opening fire. Theron glanced over, finding the medic taking aim at the pirates swarming the causeway. He squeezed off two shots, taking down two of the pursuers. “What’s your next brilliant escape plan?”

Theron loudly swore and started shooting at the pirates, pressing his back against a stack of crates for cover. “I’m making this up as I go!”

“Oh, isn’t that reassuring!”

“Can you two quit arguing for five minutes?” Xaja snapped as she activated one of her lightsabers and spun the blade, deflecting two shots back to the pirates. One man dropped dead, another staggered from a wound. “If we can’t make it to the shuttle, can it make it to us?”

“As long as nobody’s identified and boarded it,” Theron muttered as he connected to the shuttle’s piloting systems through the implants again. “ETA of forty seconds, we’re making this a running jump again.”

“Great.” Kimble flinched from a shot that bounced off a lamppost beside his head. “There’s no possible way this could go wrong.”

“There’s only room for one cynic in this group, and that’s me, Kimble!”

“For kriff’s sake, you two! Not the time or –” Xaja cried out and fell to her knees, lightsaber deactivating. Theron paled and grabbed her as she sagged, and felt his heart nearly stop when he saw the ugly blaster burn on her left shoulder.

“Hey, ‘s’okay , Red,” Kimble quickly soothed as he crouched on Xaja’s other side behind the crates. He holstered his blaster in favour of pulling the injured Jedi upright. “You know, if you wanted our attention that bad, you didn’t have to get yourself shot to do it.”

Xaja snorted, although the motion made her wince and clutch onto Theron’s jacket sleeve. “Oww. Oh, that hurt.”

“How do you attract the worst sorts of trouble?” Theron asked as he wrapped an arm around Xaja’s waist to keep her upright.

“Traveling with you?”

Theron wasn’t above glaring at the pretty Jedi, no matter how much he cared for her. “Thanks so much for that.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth until the whine of his shuttle engines drew his attention sharply to the right. “Kimble, can you get her on board if I cover you?”

“On it.” The medic grunted as he took Xaja’s weight from Theron, hauling the Jedi’s uninjured arm over his shoulders as the shuttle appeared beside them. “How close can you get?”

“That’s as close as we’re getting before I start hitting the causeway. Jump!” Theron spun to cover the medic and Jedi, both blasters firing to give them cover from the pirates. He heard Kimble grumble incoherently, followed by the sounds of two humans jumping off the causeway. There were no sounds of splashing from anyone hitting the water below. That was good. Edging backward toward the ramp, blaster fire was visible out of the corner of his eye. He’d barely noticed Kimble leaning out of the shuttle and shooting at the pirates before he whirled and took a running leap to the ramp. “Xaja’s on?” he asked as he landed in a crouch and ran into the shelter of the vessel’s interior.

“I’m here,” Xaja’s strained voice answered. The Jedi was slouched in one of the chairs, gingerly trying to wriggle her injured arm out of the jacket sleeve and wincing with every movement. “You’re not hurt?”

“No, I –” Theron cringed as the blaster bolt slammed into the side of his shuttle as Kimble slammed the control for the ramp to raise. “Let’s move! Kimble, see what you can do about that shot while I’m getting us out of here.”

“Already on it! Do you have any sort of decent medical equipment on this thing?”

“First aid kit’s in the first locker on your left,” Theron called over his shoulder as he ran for the pilot’s seat. Okay, where’s close enough for a short jump from here…

“This is almost a worse crime against medicine than Red’s attempts to do anything with kolto,” Kimble loudly complained as he scowled at the depleted contents of the first aid kit.

“I heard that!” Xaja growled, although the words were lost in a hiss as Theron’s piloting made her shift to the left and bump her shoulder. “Oh, kriff…”

“Easy. I gotcha.” Kimble set the kit down; Theron could hear him gingerly removing Xaja’s jacket so he could look at the burn. “Oh, that’s hardly anything compared to what you picked up on Makeb, remember?”

“I try not to remember that entire month-long shit-show…”

The twitch in the back of his mind made Theron look up at the same time that Xaja did. A second later, a turbolaser bolt slammed into the water just to the starboard side of the shuttle, making Theron yell as he righted the vessel. “Kriffing hell, they didn’t wait long to start chasing us!” He gunned the engines through Rishi’s atmosphere and scowled when he noticed no less than three ships on his tail, with more coming up. “Hang on, this is gonna get rough!”

“Why does anyone do anything with you, Shan?” Kimble loudly complained. “Everything you touch becomes a disaster!”

“I resent that!” Theron plugged in nearby coordinates, just enough for a short hyperspace jump to throw the pirates off their track. “Jumping to hyperspace in three…”

Another ship suddenly emerged into real-space just over their heads. Theron barely had time to register the make of the ship as an X-70B Phantom, but didn’t have the chance to wonder why that ship was familiar before he was swerving around it and gunning it for hyperspace.

“Holy – !” Reanden pulled up hard on the Shadow’s controls as he came out into realspace virtually on top of a nondescript shuttle hauling ass away from Rishi. And the spy could understand why — he counted no less than three ships, all tagged by local gangs, jumping into hyperspace immediately after the shuttle. Another half-dozen swarmed in the atmosphere.

“I don’t envy whoever’s in that shuttle,” Dr. Lokin dryly remarked as he watched the ships vanish into space. “You don’t suppose…”

“One small ship being chased by two or three pirate gangs?” Reanden’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bounty posting as high as the one Arcann’s put out. If that is Shan’s ship, they’re going to have everyone chasing them across the galaxy.”

“Your daughter’s proving to be more difficult to keep track of than your sons, combined.” Lokin shook his head. “Are we pursuing?”

“Damn straight we are. SCORPIO, calculate where that ship’s trajectory will put them at. We’re going after them.”

The droid gave Reanden what might be described as a condescending look, but she obeyed the order. “The shuttle’s current trajectory puts it in line for arriving in Manda’s orbital path within a standard hour. The pursuing pirate ships will not be far behind.”

“And neither will we.” The old spy quickly plugged in the coordinates, and the Shadow leapt into hyperspace in pursuit of the pirates and their target.

21 notes · View notes