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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Sucasa doesn't quite grab the little packet and hold it tight to her chest, but she sure looks like she wants to. Wrema cedes that ground gladly, but also looks hesitant for a second.

"Is there one with fruit? Fruit and something spicier than this? I don't need much! But I want to try. Please."

She stands up on tiptoes just to peer at all the barrels, hoping if there's something with that mix of flavors that it's also pretty. Maybe red and orange, or yellow and blue . . .

Hera translates this request, though the old woman already sets to work before she finishes speaking. This time she returns with a handful of the kernels collected in a small black cone. They are red, but twinkle with shades of gold and violet spices.

"Starblossom and durmic. Unusual combination, but she looks like an unusual girl..."

Wrema takes the proffered cone like it's something precious, tucking it almost as tightly to her chest as Sucasa did her own. She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath of the delicious smell, before taking a piece and placing it in her own mouth. After savoring it for a long moment --

"It's good! Thank you!"

She beams at the old woman, then at Hera, even as Sucasa sidles a little closer to her.

"Can I try one of yours? Please?"

Wrema is a generous creature, because she holds out her cone enough that Sucasa can take several pieces, with only a little encouragement. See? She can be good!

Hera, meanwhile, has no intention of leaving the girls with only their small samples. She orders each flavor for the two girls, and the old woman disappears into her stall once more, taking a little longer this time, but soon reemerging with two large buckets that Hera strong suspects were once helmets of some kind, though they've been hammered down into a mostly circular shape, and painted bright colors.

"There you are, girls," she coos. Before Hera can pay, she adds, "And don't think I've forgotten about you -

"Oh, I don't -"

But Hera's protests don't mean much, she ends up with a small sack of kernels that glint orange and green.

"What flavor did you get?" Sucasa asks, peering over at Hera's bounty and bouncing up and down on her heels. "Are you going to get a bucket of it, too? The buckets are pretty! Look at mine! It's purple!"

Wrema takes that moment to rescue Sucasa's bucket from overturning itself in her enthusiasm, and Sucasa will definitely be sure to thank her later.

Okay, she probably will.

Maybe.

If someone reminds her.

Hera, however, decides against a bucket. She pays the old woman, and starts leading the girls back toward the crowd.

"Remember to tell your friends about Kat Saka's Prisma Color Bang Kernels!" the woman calls after them.

Hera's fairly certain she won't remember all that. ... but she does have to concede, after trying a few, that the kernels are a wonderful, bitterly sharp yet spicy flavor.

Oh, Sucasa and Wrema definitely will. Is there any likelihood that Chiss personnel will visit this planet any more frequently on their recommendation?

No.

But they are certainly going to try.

"Can I try yours, Hera?" Sucasa asks, eyes going big in an attempt to entreat her successfully. "Please?"

It's not like Hera can say no to that face.

But she only takes out a single kernel, and warns her, "You might not like it. Twi'lek tastes are... different from others'."

"I bet it's great!" Sucasa says staunchly, popping the bang kernel into her mouth.

Her mouth purses up into the tiniest shape it's ever been, and her eyes squeeze shut in poor defense.

"Oh," she says, and, "Oh," again.

She moves her lips around to make sure she can still feel things, and swallows heavily, before looking back up at Hera.

"That was exciting! I've never tasted anything like that before. Can I have one more piece?"

"... if you're sure."

Those faces didn't suggest she'd liked it. But Hera has never minded sharing.

And they have plenty of water.

"Yes, please," Sucasa says firmly. But she'll take that water after the second piece.

She just wanted to make sure it felt like being punched in the face again! Or, well. What she guesses being punched would feel like. But with flavor.

Wrema sticks to her own treat, holding out her bucket to Sucasa. "If you need to clear your mouth out before going back to yours," she says. Helpfully.

Hera also pulls out one of the bottles to offer Sucasa.

Maybe not the wisest, but she does have to admire the girl's persistence.

"Thank you," Sucasa says seriously, taking a long swallow of water through a still-pursed mouth.

Wrema just shakes her head, attempting to share a look with Hera that says she's so ridiculous.

Like grown-ups do.

Hera just smiles, at Wrema and then at Sucasa, as they walk back among the crowds.

It's not getting dark quite yet, but the sun is starting to get lower. She'd rather they stay visible for as long as they can, but if it gets late enough, they'll have to head back to the ship, and try to get comfortable for the night. There are lodgings here, Hera knows, but she'd rather conserve the credits they have for as long as she can. And maybe she doesn't want the girls to have to spend the night above a cantina.

Sucasa is shading her eyes to look out at the sun as it gets lower, studying the colors of the light as it changes. Wrema, too, looks up to appreciate this spectacle, but then stiffens, reaching out to take Hera's hand.

"They're looking again," she says, very quietly.

And that, of course, is precisely when a blue-skinned woman steps out from the shadow of a side street, crimson eyes gleaming in the fading light.

"I do hope you were expecting me," the woman says mildly, one eyebrow raised. "It seemed as if your day long parade might have been intentional."

Hera's steps slow to a stop.

But she doesn't respond to the woman. Instead, she looks down to Wrema, with a look asking for her feelings on this.

Wrema wraps her fingers around Hera's hand, holding on tight. It takes a long moment for her to pull her attention from the woman's face and look up at Hera, but eventually she manages.

Words are a little beyond her, or maybe she's afraid to speak. There was some comfort is not knowing for sure how much Meese Cauf anyone here spoke, in being able to pretend that this was their secret code in amongst other people's code that she and Sucasa found impenetrable. Instead she nods, fighting against an instinctive desire to hunch her shoulders.

Sucasa, meanwhile, leans into Hera's side but meets the Chiss woman's gaze with ease. She's not smiling, but she is definitely curious.

"Perhaps introductions are in order? Yours to me, at the very least. Consider them a confirmation, if you would."

Hera looks back to the woman.

And then, she says a name, but not her own.

"Mitth'raw'nuruodo sent me."

The woman smiles, a barely-there flicker of her lips and just as quickly gone.

"That would explain a great deal. You may call me Vamua."

It's more properly Nrumma'vamu'aqhon, but there's no sense speaking that out loud in a place like this. For multiple reasons.

"I presume you'll want some type of reward?"

She raises her eyes, glancing around the market road.

"Maybe we should talk somewhere else."

Vamua jerks her head back the way she came, expression cool as anything.

"I have an apartment above a currently empty storefront. I would suggest some sort of eatery, but even that much ambient noise will allow others to overhear, if they so desire."

Wrema leans against Hera's side, too, if only briefly. The atmosphere is tense, and she really just wants to be home, or maybe back in the toy store with all the plush animals and Jedi dolls.

Hera moves her arm to hold Wrema's shoulder. There's a danger in moving out of the street, out of public view - but she has her blaster. And Thrawn hadn't warned her of any Chiss that could be working against them. The longer they stayed out in this road, the more exposed she felt.

"All right," she answers. "Let's go."

Again that vanishingly quick smile, and Vamua steps back into the side street, not bothering to look over her shoulder to make sure that Hera and the girls are following.

Wrema stays within Hera's embrace for a second, then moves away to make sure Hera's hands are free, gesturing for Sucasa to do the same. The younger girl lets go of Hera when Wrema asks, but she doesn't seem very happy about it. This may explain why Wrema moves to flank her, keeping Sucasa between herself and Hera, as if that will make the girl more safe.

Somehow.

"We'll be okay," she says quietly, as they start walking.

Vamua's path to her supposed apartment isn't all that far, maybe three streets away from their current position. The shop beneath is deserted, as promised, but nothing about this place is really in poor repair. Just . . . disused.

"Shall we?" Vamua asks, gesturing them all inside the door she's just opened. There's a stairway beyond, as the apartment is apparently on the second floor of this two-story building.

Hera doesn't physically reach for the pocket in her skirt containing her blaster. But she does think of it, visualizing its location in her mind.

She nods, and moves to follow Vamua. As she does, she keeps herself ahead of Sucasa and Wrema, though never so far ahead that she doesn't feel them behind her.

The stairway gives onto a landing, which has another door that Vamua also opens, walking inside confidently, and leaving the door open behind her so that Hera and the girls have a good view of what lies in front of them.

It's one large, open room with a ratty carpet, a small cooking range, a few battered seats and a cot tucked away in a corner. There's nothing on the walls, there are no tables or other flat surfaces, and there's no bric a brac in sight.

There is a small 'fresher in one corner, which at least one of the girls looks like they might appreciate being able to use. (It's Sucasa.)

Vamua, meanwhile, takes a seat in one of the ratty-looking chairs, folding her hands in her lap and fixing her crimson gaze on Hera

"Make yourselves at home," she says, "I believe that's the phrase?"