for_everyone | (no subject)

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The ship does land in one piece. As she'd suspected from the moment she saw it, the stolen ship is a rare Imperial shuttle made for stealth. She leans easily into these controls, quietly whipping through space, even after it became apparent that the patrolling TIEs had been ordered to find the ship's escaped prisoners. Hera had dodged among them, evading their scopes and radars, as she flew the shuttle far out enough to make the jump to hyperspace. In the end, it was only one unfortunate fighter that managed to catch sight of her.

The shuttle's weapons systems are nothing special, she learned. But they did the job.

The jump to Batuu was only about three hours, even with the slightly roundabout route Hera decided to take. The girls, fortunately, seem to be accustomed to space travel. Occasionally they whisper to each other, but otherwise, they tend to stay quiet unless Hera speaks to them. About an hour in, Hera recommends that they get some sleep, and the girls don't object.

It's midafternoon at Black Spire when they reach the planet. Hera is careful on her approach, avoiding likely lanes of traffic – she doesn't want to run into questions about the stolen shuttle she's flying. But then, most who visit Batuu aren't the type to ask questions. But she still chooses to land the shuttle in a clearing, surrounded by dense forest, about five kliks downriver of the outpost.

As the shuttle touches down, she turns to the girls. "Are you all right?"

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"I think you do."

In a way, they do.

Yet, she adds, "But I chose mine."

Sucasa appears to accept this with equanimity, but Wrema frowns a little.

"You said you love to fly."

How is that a choice?

Hera looks to Wrema, considering.

"We can't always choose to do what we love."

Sucasa looks up, scooting closer to Wrema on the bench.

"Why not?"

"Sometimes our duty calls us to do something else," Hera says.

"And some people aren't given any choice at all."

"Is that important?" Sucasa's voice remains quiet, and Wrema reaches out to pat her hand.

"You sound like it is."

Among the Chiss, every person has their role. The Aristocra tells them so. It's the clearest thing in all their lives.

"I think it is."

Hera's not really sure what cultural minefield she might be wading into here. She hasn't spent enough time with Thrawn to think on that. But she also thinks these girls deserve the truth.

"Sometimes there are things we have to give up, for others. But I think we should have a choice in that, too."

Wrema and Sucasa think about that for a little while, and then Sucasa looks up, squaring her tiny shoulders.

"I want to help my people. I don't want them to get lost."

She doesn't reach out to take Wrema's hand, even as the older girl looks away for a moment, as if to get her expression under control. And when Wrema looks back --

"I want to help them, too. Until I can't anymore."

Sucasa chimes in with, "Then I want to come back here!"

Wrema doesn't move to object.

"All right."

It gives Hera a little comfort. Not that she's feeling she has much of a choice about any of this.

"If you're done eating, maybe we should move on."

"Are we going to find a ship?" Sucasa asks eagerly.

Wrema, meanwhile, looks more cautious.

"We should. But where will we go?"

Are there other spires to see? Or more things to sell, or buy, or . . . people to contact? She's not entirely sure how any of this works, really, outside of a rigid and mostly-military context.

Edited 2019-04-25 00:12 (UTC)

"I think," she says, "we're the ones who're supposed to be found here. Which means we need to help your people find us."

Hera shrugs, but her smile flickers back. "So let's go look around."

Wrema bites her lip, looking hesitant again.

"Do you want us to . . . look? I don't know if we'll find anybody, but we can try."

Sucasa slips her hand back into Wrema's, responding instinctively to the uncertainty in the other girl's tone.

They're not in trouble, are they?

"It might help if to keep an eye out."

Or whatever the equivalent here is. "If you can do that."

Edited 2019-04-25 00:19 (UTC)

Sucasa nods very enthusiastically, while Wrema's movements are a lot more subdued.

"We can do that," she says quietly.

"We'll start now."

"All right," Hera says, with another smile.

She stands from her seat, and begins to collect up their plates and glasses. "Then let's see what we can find."

"Okay," Sucasa says, sliding out of the chair and trying to help gather up the plates. Wrema picks up after the mess she leaves behind. It's good that they have a lot of napkins.

"No one's watching us right now."

Not that she can tell, anyway. That's . . . probably good?

Hera's not sure if it's good or bad. But she can't do much about it now. She leads them back to Bakkar's stall to return the plates and glasses, and then they head back out into the Batuu sunlight. If the girls want to take her hands again, she doesn't stop them.

The crowds are beginning to pick up, maybe the very start of an evening rush. Hera doesn't have a goal now - hope to be seen by the right people, which doesn't give her much guidance. It had somehow been easier when she was hungry, at least that had an easy answer.

But she still manages to look purposeful as she walks with them along the streets of the outpost. And from the passersby who range from small Ugnaughts to towering Muun, low key smugglers to flamboyant likely-pirates, to the stalls along the street offering a dizzying array of colorful wares, it was easy to get distracted.

Hera turns a corner, about to ask the girls if they've noticed anything, but before she can speak, there's a loud, high-pitched shriek to the right of them -

Sucasa's already turning, caught by the need she hears in that shriek, and --

And --

Her eyes go enormously wide. Because the bright blue and purple bird that's shrieking is accompanied by a whole host of animals and birds and lizards, all tucked into cages or hutches, stuffing this open shed-like building to the rafters.

It's amazing and . . . also horrifying.

"We have to let them out!" Sucasa says, whisper-shouting in an effort to be heard by Hera and Wrema without actually drawing anyone else's attention.

Wrema takes a second to register what a problem that sentiment is going to be, but really isn't sure how to react to stave off the catastrophe she can see coming.

"Nope -"

Hera catches Sucasa's hand a little tighter. "No, sareen -"

She says the Twi'lek endearment without thinking. "- I'm sorry, we can't do that."

Who's sareen? Wrema thinks, but she doesn't ask it out loud. It's probably just another little girl that Hera knows.

Sucasa, meanwhile, checks herself, giving a half-hearted tug on her hand and looking back toward the cages again.

"I know we'd get in trouble, but some of them are unhappy!"

They didn't get to choose.

Edited 2019-04-26 23:01 (UTC)

"I know."

Hera does feel a pang of hypocrisy, but she pushes it aside. "I wish we could do something. But I have to keep you safe. And setting them free here might not help them."

"Why not?" Sucasa asks, trying not to be petulant and mostly succeeding.

"Would people eat them?" Wrema asks, in apparent horror.

At those words Sucasa's eyes well up, and she looks at Hera hopefully. Please say it's not that. Please.

Hera's first instinct is to answer matter-of-factly. Of course, people might eat them. She herself didn't come from the top of Ryloth's food chain.

But a glance at Sucasa's eyes, and she can't help but change tack.

"This isn't the environment they're used to," she says instead. "They won't know how to survive on their own here."

Sucasa sniffles a little, and tries on a brave smile. "I guess being a pet is better than being dead," she allows. Quietly.

Wrema does not reach out to ruffle her hair.

Hera nearly has to bite her lip at that. She doesn't really think it's true.

But she takes a breath, and "If you want to get a closer look, maybe we can do that."