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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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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?"

Hera gives the place a once over, and then taps Sucasa's shoulder.

"Go ahead," she says quietly.

Then, with a glance at Wrema, she moves forward, and also takes a seat in one of the chairs.

Wrema settles on the carpet at Hera's feet, because it lets her lean against Hera without impeding her arms. Or her mobility.

She stays quiet, though she does turn to keep an eye on Sucasa as the girl goes to the refresher. (Wrema might be planning to take a turn next, but only if things don't go horribly.)

"So," says Vamua, as soon as Sucasa has shut the 'fresher door, "To business?"

"I'd like to know they're going to be safe," Hera says, before anything else.

"When they leave me."

"They are our most precious resource," Vamua says calmly, "as I am sure you're aware."

She looks to Wrema at that, smiling at the girl in a much more genuine way than her previous flash-in-the-pan gestures. Then her attention returns to Hera.

"I understand it may be difficult to believe we can protect them, after this mishap, but rest assured we have altered our protocols accordingly, and nothing like this will be permitted to happen again."

It's the phrase 'precious resource' that concerns Hera more.

She takes a deep breath, and leans forward, coming closer to but not touching Wrema.

"I didn't do this for a reward."

"No?" Vamua says, arching one eyebrow and leaning back a little in her seat. "How novel."

There's no hint of dryness in her voice, but perhaps there ought to be.

Wrema, meanwhile, is fidgeting very slightly. (She hopes Sucasa comes back out soon.)

"I imagine you did it out of affection in some respect?"

She does seem fond of the girls, after all. Not to mention the toys they are now carrying, which are most definitely non-standard equipment for Force sensitives in the Ascendancy.

It's already so similar to speaking with Thrawn. And it grates her.

"I did it because I heard a cry," she answers, her voice low.

"And I answered it."

"We appreciate it," Vamua says. "There are not many in the galaxy that would."

Chiss do not trust outsiders. There are reasons for that. Only some of those reasons make things easier for the Aristocra.

"As we have learned, many times."

This is the moment that Sucasa emerges, and Wrema, ignoring protocol and manners, gets immediately to her feet and moves for the 'fresher. It is absolutely necessary at this moment.

Sucasa tries not to giggle, as the room's atmosphere doesn't allow for it, and mostly succeeds. She also takes Wrema's spot at Hera's feet, because it's already warm.

Hera stays silent as the girls switch places, and like Vamua, she waits until the door is closed.

And then, though there's no way Sucasa won't understand her,

"Are you going to let me walk away?"

Vamua's smile this time is thin, but she inclines her head after a long, silent moment.

"Of course," she say simply. "We would hardly be demonstrating our gratitude if we chose any other path. We are not ones who reward honor with dishonor."

Sucasa takes this moment to wrap her arm around Hera's calf. Just in case.

"I guess I should find that comforting."

She doesn't entirely.

"'Should' rarely has anything to offer in matters such as these," Vamua says. "There is only what we feel, and what we do. I can understand your lack of comfort. I regret that I am not very skilled in putting others at ease."

That's . . . really not in her job description at all.

At. All.

"I don't expect you to."

Hera lets out another breath, glancing down at Sucasa. She hadn't acted for a reward. Yet she'd also never have another opportunity like this.

"But if you're offering, maybe there is something you can do for me."

"Is there," Vamua says, raising one eyebrow and leaning forward just the slightest bit. "I would certainly like to hear your request."

There is a great deal that she cannot promise, but some things are up to her discretion -- she was not sent here merely to ferry the children home, after all.

Wrema, at this moment, makes her way out of the 'fresher and settles down on Sucasa's other side, taking the smaller girl's hand in her own.

It helps.

Hera waits again, watching Wrema as she crosses the room, and joins Sucasa sitting at her skirts. But she feels Vamua's gaze, as harshly as she felt Thrawn's.

"Your compatriot serves the Empire that controls most of this Galaxy."

She looks back up, to those red eyes. "Send him home."

Vamua's eyebrow remains arched as she studies Hera for a long, silent moment.

Then --

"As Mitth'raw'nuruodo serves this Empire and its Emperor, there is very little I and mine may do. We Chiss may command only our own, and as his duty is elsewhere -- "

She spreads her hands, indicating a supposed lack of power.

"As is his fealty -- we may send a message, but there is no reason to think it will be obeyed."

"Then send a message."

Hera can settle for that. After all, today he showed a loyalty for something other than the Empire.

Vamua's smile is thin, but not entirely faked.

"Consider it done. Though it is unlikely to come directly from my hand. Wiser heads, as they say."

She turns her attention from Hera to the children, leaning forward once more.

"Are you ready to come back with me, young ones?"

Wrema looks up at Hera, with Sucasa mimicking the gesture a moment later.

Are they, Hera? Themselves, maybe they're not so sure. (Mostly because they didn't worry about Hera being safe until she asked the question, and now . . . )

Hera leans forward, putting a hand on each of their shoulders.

"Coth'eraw'rema," she says again, her voice very soft. "Suc'asaw'earmemm."