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There's only a small port at Mos Elrey, and Hera had already decided to avoid it. She doesn't want to deal with Imperials looking too closely at their identichips, or local 'authorities' demanding bribes to ensure the ship's protection. The other option is to touchdown outside the city – that's not difficult on a planet like Tatooine, and Hera quickly finds a tall dune in the Western Sea along which to tuck away the Ghost. It's eight klicks from Mos Elrey, the collection of sand-and-mudbrick towers black like shadows along the horizon. Which is the downside – they have no speeder, and so they'll have to walk, leaving them vulnerable to attack by Tusken Raiders, along with whom or whatever else might be lurking among the dunes around them.

Of course, that's only one danger. The sky is clear, now a deep gray-purple that's brightening as the twin suns rise. If they leave too early, they run a greater risk of attracting unwanted company, as the Tusken Raiders in particular were known to ride the dunes at night. Leave too late, and they'll be caught in the dangerous midday heat. They'll have to hope there won't be a sandstorm in the time it takes them to reach city, and that they'll avoid any hidden pits or slips of quicksand.

But to Hera, none of those concerns rival the fact that this blasted planet is ruled by the Hutts.

Chopper, unsurprisingly, is content to stay with the ship. Hera has checked over her blaster, and sheathed her vibroblade, and at the moment is rummaging through one of the drawers under her bunk, the doors to her cabin left open.

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"Not money," she says quickly. "Or your merchandise. That's all for you. What we want is to hear from you, about what you see and hear, out here."

There's another cascade of whispers, up and down the line of Jawas, coming back to Tsedec in something like, 'About what?'

Hera glances up to Sovi, who gives her a small nod.

"About the Empire," she answers.

Tsedec leans forward, even as the rippling talk among the Jawas spreads out behind them in tones that run the gamut between general conversation and intense whispering. Tsedec's presenc seems to keep everything to below a dull roar, which is fortunate, even in this fairly deserted neighborhood.

Kanan can't help wincing, though he does try to hide it by running his hands over his face.

Tsedec's yellow-eyed gaze arrows in on this movement, and when they turn back to Hera --

The term 'bucketheads' might be obvious, even in the Jawa's tongue, as well as the adjective 'white'. They may be wondering if Hera thinks they can find information about any officers or other Imperial functionaries, or if Stormtrooper patrol data alone is sufficient.

"Just what you see," Hera says, guessing at their meaning. "You don't need to go looking. But there's plenty going on in plain sight. We're just asking for your eyes."

Another ripple of whispers. One word sounds loudly even before it reaches Tsedec. You.

"Not always me," Hera says. "We'll change, but we'll give you a way to know who we are."

Edited 2018-11-26 04:07 (UTC)

"A code word, maybe," Kanan says. It only sounds spontaneous. Mostly. "Or a pin or patch, or some other article of decorative clothing. Whatever you think you'll most easily spot in a crowd."

It's somewhere to start, anyway.

Several of the Jawas perk up at that, but they remain silent. For now.

"You can stop anytime," Hera says. "And we'll always pay first."

With that, she rises from the table. "We'll let you discuss."

The moment she goes quiet, the Jawas turn to one another, launching into intense whispers, their words tumbling over one another. Hera nods to Sovi, and then steps back, over to Kanan.

Undertone, "What do you think?"

Kanan weighs his words, looking out over the room in one more brief survey before turning to Hera.

"I think we've got a shot," he says honestly. "We're not asking them to do more than take note of what they're already seeing, and if they're free to stop whenever they want . . . escape hatches take a lot of the trapped feeling away, which is probably for the best."

For everyone, really.

"You?"

Behind them, the whispering increases in intensity, if not pitch.

Hera folds her arms, turning her head away so as to not look like she's trying to eavesdrop.

"I think they must have some kind of stake in this," she says, quietly. "I don't think Sovi would've brought them here otherwise. Something that means more to them than the bargain."

The bargain was still essential. But she doubts it alone would tip the scale.

"Maybe they're tired of being pushed around and treated like bantha poodoo, as much as anyone else."

They get it worse, too, especially from Imperials.

He keeps his voice low, though, especially on 'bantha poodoo'. It seems polite.

Hera nods, but doesn't speak.

And it's only a few more seconds, before the whispering has gone quiet. Hera turns, to see those ember-like eyes watching them once again. She steps back to the table, looking at each of the Jawas before meeting eyes with Tsedec once more, who stands to their full height and cries out one word.

Deal. One of the basics of Jawa Trade.

Kanan grins, sudden and quick. He can't quite help it.

"Thanks!"

Maybe it's too effusive, but sometimes being genuine is more important than being diplomatic.

Hera can't help her own smile, and Tsebec walks up to shake her hand in both of theirs. The other Jawas begin talking among themselves again, passing the vial back and forth, already discussing how their incoming supplies will be dispersed. Sovi steps over to speak to Tsebec, and Hera is about to turn to Kanan when she hears a trill.

She meets Kanan's eyes, then takes the comm from her belt. "What's up Chop?"

What's up, according to a very hassled Chopper, is that things aren't so lonely around the Ghost anymore. Eight Tusken Raiders? A dozen? Twenty? The way Chopper tells it, it could be a fleet, bearing down on the ship as the droid bravely employs all the defenses the Ghost has to offer.

Hera patiently waits through Chopper's ranting before, "Well you're just going to have to get the ship out of there."

"Uh."

Kanan turns his attention very slowly from the Jawas to Hera.

"That sounds . . . bad, huh? Uh. Is this where we start running?"

Because it kind of sounds like a point where they should be doing something, at least. Even if it's just finding some open (or high) ground that Chop can sweep them out of.

"We can't meet him there."

Even if it's more like five Raiders, which is what Hera is guessing. "Chop, just take off now, we'll figure something out."

At this point, their words have gotten the attention of Sovi and Tsebec, who are looking on curiously.

"You, uh."

Kanan should really stop using that syllable, but that's a worry for later. Probably.

"You don't happen to have any speeders around that we could borrow, do you?"

"You going to get it back to me before dark?" Sovi asks.

Hera, meanwhile, is still on the comm with Chopper. "No, a droid flying alone won't look good landing in the port... You could, but I don't want you staying in orbit, it's Tuskens down here and TIEs up there..."

Tsebec speaks up, talking to Sovi, but Hera catches the words 'offer' and 'crawler.' "You can give us a ride?" she asks.

"They're heading to Mos Taike tonight," Sovi says. "It's up north, they'll get in by tomorrow evening. You could meet your ship there - it'll probably be safer, if you land northeast of the town. Sand People avoid that area."

"Why?" Hera asks.

Sovi's mouth twists. "Because it's near a Hutt's palace."

Kanan winces, but --

"If they really -- you, sorry -- " he says, breaking off to address himself directly to Tsebec, "can give us a crawler ride, that'll probably be a better way of avoiding Hutt attention than anything else. So."

He looks back to Hera, eyebrows raised interrogatively.

It seems like a good idea to him! Given the givens.

Given the givens.

Hera looks down to Tsebec. "What's the price?"

The answer is a word she doesn't recognize, and she glances back up to Sovi, who smiles slightly as she translates.

"It's a gift."

"That's kind of you," Kanan says, because they could have asked for anything. More down payment on the sealant, maybe, or rations, or --

Anyway.

"Should we, uh -- when are you planning on heading out?"

At this point Tsebec just looks up at Hera, trilling out a few more words, and gesturing from her to a door on the far side of the room. Then, as an afterthought, they make the same gesture from Kanan to Hera to the door.

Now! seems to be their answer.

Edited 2018-11-28 01:23 (UTC)

Hera nods. "We should leave separately."

Tsebec moves away to gather up the others, while Hera lifts her comm again. "Chop, we have a plan. I'll give you coordinates for rendezvous."

But first, she turns back to their host. "Sovi," she says, reaching out to her, the small photoreceptor back in her palm. "Thank you."

Sovi reaches out to take the photoreceptor, shoving it into her pocket with one hand before clasping Hera's forearm and shaking it slightly.

"It's what I'm here for. I'm glad it's worked out."

For now, anyway. And that's all there is to ask for.

"Maybe we'll meet again." Stranger things have happened.

And, with a nod to Kanan that he returns, she dusts herself off and starts heading back the way they came. The girl has probably been left alone too long already. There's no telling how much trouble she's gotten herself into.

Kanan, meanwhile, waits to follow Tsebec and the other Jawas until Hera's gotten on the move.

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