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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"What's that?" Wrema asks quietly, having come to stand by Hera after losing interest in the model ships. All of these dolls are references to things that she doesn't understand -- none of them are Chiss, after all -- but they're all so interesting-looking, the kind of people she'd like to meet someday.

The kind of people she'd like to understand.

Meanwhile, Sucasa has started picking up and hugging one of each kind of soft toy, beginning with a gangling Kowakian monkey lizard (not that she knows that's what it is). Next up is a wampa, and after that some kind of giant cat with six legs and tusks. It's very purple.

Edited 2019-04-28 18:23 (UTC)

Hera doesn't notice Wrema until she speaks. She glances to her, and then quickly around for Sucasa.

And then hopes the shop's proprietor doesn't mind what Sucasa is doing, because she's certainly not going to stop her.

She looks back to the shelf. "These were, um - people, sort of like warriors, who used to exist where I'm from in the galaxy."

Wrema frowns, reaching out to take down another one of the dolls -- this one of a blue lady with head-tails a lot like Hera's.

"How can you be sort of a warrior? You are, or you aren't."

That's what she's always been told, anyway.

Behind them, Sucasa is viciously cuddling something large and tentacled. Or she is pretending the tentacled of the thing are a beard. Possibly both.

Hera looks to the doll in Wrema's hands, and needs a moment to catch her breath. She takes that moment to do another glance around - but the passersby don't seem interested in them, or the shop, and no one looks close enough to hear them.

She crouches down again, to be level with Wrema, her eyes now back on the doll. "They fought sometimes, to protect others. But they also did many other things. They could be healers, and teachers. Mostly, they were meant to help others."

Wrema looks up at Hera, pulling the blue doll close to her chest for a second.

"Like you?"

That's what Hera seems like from her point of view, anyway. It's . . . it's understandable, mostly, if she thinks about it like that.

Her eyes flicker up to Wrema, and it takes her a moment to answer that.

"Well -" she says, softly, keeping her eyes on the girl.

"- they could do things others couldn't. They could feel others's emotions, and sense things before they happened."

"Oh."

Wrema's voice gets quiet, and she holds the doll a little more tightly as she looks down and away. They were like her, in a way, is what she hears Hera saying. Except --

"But they weren't navigators. For your navies."

"They could've helped with that sometimes, too," Hera answers. "But we've charted most of the space in our galaxy, and we have computers that help us, too."

Wrema frowns, thinking that over.

"It feels . . . more stable here. Space. It's not like at home. But -- do you use computers to do your 'charting'?"

She knows it's probably not a useful path to go down. If they could have done it, the Aristocra would have been researching this approach for eons.

"Are they like droids? Your computers."

That would make sense, for the calculations and feelings Wrema and Sucasa have to use to navigate the Unknown Regions. Some level of creativity and decision-making capability is important. That's probably true even without their particular sensitivities.

"We do. Explorers have traveled the Galaxy for over a thousand years, and they make maps that we program into our computers to help us calculate how to travel safely."

She takes a little more time to think over the second question. "They can be. Sometimes droid processors are used in ship's computers. Usually they don't communicate the same way, and they can't process independently the way a droid can."

Wrema thinks about this, a frown settling heavily on her face.

"Why don't they want them to process independently? Wouldn't that be good in emergencies?"

Behind them, Sucasa has found the largest stuffed animal in the place -- a massive bantha and calf -- and has snuggled into the bantha's side like she is planning to stay there for days. At least she's not trying to ride it?

"I suppose because we want to keep control of our own ships," Hera says.

"And droids usually need an ability to learn and change to function. A ship doesn't need that the same way, not to fly at least, so that's not included in its programming."

"I don't think most people would like ships that owned themselves," she allows, thinking of the Expansionary Defense Fleet and the way it reactions to all of its property.

"And it would be frustrating not to be able to change."

If she were a ship, she's thinking. (It even grates now, a little, though she still understands and accepts her duty. But she'd really like to stay here and meet all the people in this part of the galaxy. She would really, really love that.)

Unsure what to say to that, Hera turns her attention away from Wrema, over to Sucasa. The other girl appears to be barely holding her own against the enormous stuffed bird she now has her arms around.

Hera sighs. "It might be easier if our ships could fly themselves. But right now we'd rather trust our own skills."

Or a pilots, and after all, some pilots are droids.

(And Hera can't honestly say she'd ever want a ship that could function without her.)

Sucasa goes down under the bird just after Hera finishes talking, but she doesn't appear displeased.

"That's how I feel, too. I know I can find the right way. I don't know if a computer could."

She even knows Sucasa can do it, which . . . well.

"I guess I can understa-"

But midway through this sentence, Hera looks up across the stall again, and - "Oh, Suc'asaw'earmemm -"

She gets to her feet, and murmurs an apology to Wrema, before she has to dart over to the stuffed animals to recover the other girl. Not that the stuffed bird is likely to do much harm but, it is enormous.

Sucasa's face is shining as she emerges from beneath the plush behemoth.

"It's so soft and fuzzy and warm! Better than a blanket!"

She is already looking around for more giant stuffed animals to fling onto herself. Just to see if it's the same!

Wrema hides her face in one hand, since the other hand is still holding the blue Jedi doll. Just for now.

"Maybe you can just choose a smaller one...?" Hera suggests, only a little desperately, as she follows Sucasa. "We have credits for that."

With a glance back at Wrema, "For both of you."

The giant bird is just going to be too much to take with them.

Sucasa's eyes get wide, and she comes to a stop in the middle of the store, staring at Hera.

"I can have one?"

There happens to be one of those birds that would fit just so under Sucasa's arm, and if Hera says she is allowed to, the little girl is going to immediately run over to get it.

Wrema, meanwhile, has kept hold of the blue Jedi doll and doesn't appear to want to let it go. She moves to Hera, instead. "Is this one okay?"

"A small one," Hera repeats, as Sucasa heads off.

She turns back down to Wrema, and can't help but give her a small smile. "Yeah, that's perfect."

Wrema smiles back up at her, tucking the doll a little closer to her chest.

"Thank you."

Sucasa comes back with a small bird -- not even the one as big as her torso -- and beams up at Hera.

"Is this one okay? It's fluffy!"

"Yeah, that one's good, too," Hera says, reaching down to brush her fingers along the bird's fluffy head. "Now let's see if we can find the owner."

The stall's proprietor turns out to be far in the back, in a darkened room set apart from the rest of the shop. She's a Toydarian, and apparently isn't too concerned about anyone making off with her wares while she's at work in the back. Instead her focus is entirely on her work table, which is covered in cloth scraps of many different colors, spools of thread, needles, bits of wood, numerous feathers - all of it looks to be thrown around haphazardly, but the Toydarian flits from one end of the table to the next, a doll that looks like it's in its early stages slowly coming to form in her hand.

She puts down her work when Hera and the girls enter, and enthusiastically introduces herself as Zabaka. Hera had come in expecting some negotiating, but the price Zabaka offers for the two toys is so reasonable, she can't bring herself to try to pay any less. Zabaka praises each girl's choice, referring to the bird in Sucasa's hands as a 'porg,' and even naming the doll Wrema has chosen as 'the brave Aayla Secura.' Maybe it shouldn't surprise her, but Hera can't help but wonder how the Toydarian can feel so free to talk about and even name the Jedi.

For a moment, she wants to ask Zabaka what she knows about Aayla Secura, and the other Jedi on her shelf. But she stops herself, and instead keeps to counting out the payment, and accepting the small cloth bags Zabaka provides for their purchases.

"Thank you," the girls say shyly, one after the other, holding tightly to each of their toys, and with a faintly purple blush showing on their cheeks.

Handcrafts are precious, and it's so interesting to see toys being made by an adult.

"We'll take care of them," Wrema promises both Zabaka and Hera. It's important!

"I'm glad to hear it," Zabaka replies, in Meese Caulf. "My creations are all looking for kind caretakers to look after them, I'm glad they found you."

Maybe slightly concerned Sucasa may take this a little too much to heart, Hera gently places her hands on the girls' shoulders, and says, "All right, we should keep moving."

She thanks Zabaka again, and starts to head back toward the front of the shop.

Sucasa buries her face in the chest of her porg doll, inhaling deeply. Then she looks up, still smiling, and strides with confidence out of the store.

Wrema just laughs quietly, still holding her doll pressed close to her chest. A Jedi. A hero. Someone that helps people.

Maybe she's starting to have an idea of what she wants to do when her service is no longer required, after all.