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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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"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.

Hera leads them back out into the street, as she mildly wonders whether the girls' new toys will affect how they're identified. Do Chiss children typically have toys? Her mind flickers to an image of these girls in some cold, bare room aboard a starship, only antiquated navigational instruments around them. Maybe she should ask.

For the moment, however, they head silently back into the crowds heading down the street. The sun is starting to get lower in the sky, the shadows from the trees and the spires growing longer over the paths they walk down. This, in turn, only makes the crowds denser, and Hera holds to the girls a little tightly to be sure she doesn't lose them.

They make a wide turn, really no more than following the crowd, when Hera notices a sweet scent they'd passed before. She turns her head to see a smaller stall, barrels of brightly colored spices stacked at the entrance, and hanging from the stall's arched entrance, along with various lamps, are large glass globes, lit up with multi-colored lights, a small fire crackling on the ground beneath them.

Edited 2019-04-29 01:08 (UTC)

A moment after Hera's head turns, so do that of Wrema and Sucasa. It takes them a moment or so to register that they should be sniffing the air, too, but after a moment or so, they do.

It smells . . .

It smells sweet, and salty, with hints of savory herbs and other spices, all mingled together until they're just hungry again. Maybe some of the individual components would be familiar, but mingled together as they are, nothing really sticks out.

But --

Sucasa turns to look up at Hera.

"That's food, right?"

Wrema, too, looks over.

"Is it meant to be purple?"

"It's food," Hera tells them. "And sometimes food is purple.

"Do you want to get a closer look?"

Wrema and Sucasa look at each other, then. Not quite hesitantly, but more as if they're making sure they each have the same answer.

Then --

"Yes, please," they say in unison.

"It smells really good."

"It does," she agrees, turning with them and moving through the crowd toward the brightly colored stall. The passersby move to make way from them, a few glancing curiously, though Hera doesn't notice any more attention than that.

As they get closer, Hera gets a clear view of what's in the hanging large glass globes, as the small kernels contained in them rattle and pop in the heat. She's about to point this out to the girls, when she notices the sign above the stall -

"Prisma-Color Bang-Kernels."

That's... a name for it.

"It sounds really silly," Sucasa says, but she's looking up at the Bang-Kernels with awe and anticipation.

"I don't think that name is real," Wrema adds, but she gives Hera a slightly dubious look, because so far she hasn't lied to them.

It's just . . . very strange.

"Some people think 'silly' gets attention."

And Hera can't help but wonder what Chiss sense of humor must be like.

"Maybe if it's something for babies," Sucasa allows.

"Is it?" Wrema asks, still looking at the brightly-colored kernels wistfully. "Do you think we could get some? Or is it like the bird-meat, and we might be allergic?"

She really hopes she's not allergic.

Hera glances down at Wrema, thinking on this.

"When we were -"

There's a beat, and then, "- with those others, before the ship and before we came here, they gave us rations with lemus corn cakes to eat. If you could eat those, this should be okay."