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This should really be a simple job. All recon, and while Pamarthe isn't the easiest place to visit, what with its Imperial leanings and occasional massive storms, so many traders passed through its ports that it was simple enough to stay inconspicuous. The risks, all things considered, were low compared to the kind of jobs they sometimes pulled. If they could shut up, keeping their heads down and their eyes open.

Which –

"You're really making too big a deal of this."

They're still about thirty minutes out, the white-blue blur of hyperspace gliding along beyond the ship. Hera is leaning over the controls, authoring a mask for the Ghost's signature. Chopper blats from the cockpit doorway, and Hera rolls her eyes. "You don't have anything else to be doing right now?"

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"Should we be carrying some alcohol in open cups? For verisimilitude."

Because Pamarthens.

"Sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get warm again."

Finding the docks shouldn't be all that hard, because water -- but Pamarthe has a lot of water. And rock. Unfortunately.

"There won't be any drinking until we're done."

Even if that is the exception around here. "And you're not getting Port in a Storm."

"I wasn't planning on drinking it," Kanan protests, quietly.

"Just blending in. People tend to disregard the very slightly tipsy."

"That's true," she agrees, though she thinks it's truer for Kanan than it is for her.

"But I'd also like you to have both hands free."

"Good point," Kanan says.

"Heavy lifting's on me, huh?"

Or something.

Hera grins at him from under her hood.

"I have done most of the work so far."

"You do pilot very well," Kanan allows.

"I guess you wouldn't buy any defense like 'my hands are delicate', huh?"

He doesn't smirk, exactly, but grinning might be involved.

"I hope they're not," she says.

"Pamarthe really isn't a place for anything delicate."

"I think the last time anything about me was described as delicate was 'never'."

He arches an eyebrow.

"Lucky for us."

"Lucky," Hera echoes.

And it's a good thing, because this day isn't meant for anything delicate. They do find their contact by the docks easily enough, a Pamarthen woman named Geda. And it's lucky that their friend is a local, as the anarchy in the skies above doesn't extend to the Empire's bases on the planet. They would have had no chance of dodging the Pamarthen Imperials without Geda, who not only knows every cave and corner they can use to slip among the rocks, but the officers' schedules, patterns, and corners they choose to hide in while on break and pass around a flask.

They spend the morning observing shift patterns and watching recruits, and then move on to the markets and the taverns among them. They work together to spot plainclothes Imperials, note how credits change hands and what cargo seems to be in demand. None of it is very surprising – small arms and light weapons, sheets of plastoid composite, medpacs, protein, spice, doonium ore.

It's early evening by the time they've parted ways with Geda. With the sun dipping into the steel ocean, the winds off the water have grown even colder, and Hera is clutching her cloak rather tightly. Still she mutters to Kanan, through gritted teeth, "I told you it would be fine."

"Sadly," Kanan says, through significantly less-gritted teeth, "the night is still young. And we're still on Pamarthe."

They may have used up all their luck just getting to this point.

He's concerned.

"I'm not planning on spending the night here."

Lines from the port crowds are already breaking off into the taverns, and it will only get worse as the night wears on.

"It's not that far, let's just -"

"Isis!"

Someone calls the name over the sounds of the crowd. Hera keeps moving, facing forward, yet she suddenly falls silent.

Hera falls abruptly silent, and Kanan can feel things start to careen off-track. He's not sure how, he's not sure of the cause, but he can sense things teetering on the edge.

"What is it?"

He reaches out through the Force, looking, looking --

"What?"

"Isis!" It's louder this time, whoever's shouting is getting closer.

"I think whoever that is is coming this way."

It's not a Stormtrooper, it's not Imperial Security, so why does it still feel like this is going to end poorly?

"Should I try to distract them?"

"No, just -"

"Isis!" A Theelin man, with deep blue-and-lavender mottled skin and horns, takes hold of Hera's shoulder, spinning her around toward him.

"Jope -" Hera throws out an arm behind her, to stop Kanan from stepping in. "I uh - I didn't see you."

"And," Kanan cuts in, looking between the two of them very quickly, as if to make sure Jope doesn't have a vibroblade or a blaster out.

"Isis is kind of a common name out here. You've got a good eye, making it here all the way across the crowd like that."

Edited 2017-12-17 01:02 (UTC)

Jope blinks up in surprise at Kanan. "I just -"

He looks back to Hera. "I haven't seen you in ages, Isis. I wasn't sure you were still flying."

"I've just been sticking to Outer Rim," Hera answers. "Haven't been in the Core for a while."

"And you found a partner!" Jope holds his hand out to Kanan. "Does she still have that crazy droid?"

The Isis thing continues to throw him, but absent any indications from Hera, he's just going to try and ride this out.

For now.

He takes Jope's hand and shakes it, grip firm but not tight, no contests of strength going on here.

"She does. Great co-pilot, terrible conversationalist."

"Are you looking for work?" Hera asks, as Jope withdraws his hand. He shakes his head.

"'m running shipments off Nakadia. You two hiring?"

"Any friend of Isis' -- well."

Kanan tries on a wry grin.

"Maybe I'm exaggerating for effect. Why, are you looking to find someone a job?"

"I don't think any crew in the galaxy'd say no to Isis flying."

Jope turns his eyes back to her. "But you never seemed the type to stick with anyone too long."

Hera shrugs. "I took a lot of work, back then."

"And now?" Jope asks.

"She still takes on a lot of work," Kanan puts in.

"But the scope's a little narrower, so a steady crew makes more sense."

He pauses, as if to catch himself.

"Or, well. A steadier crew."

"Good to hear you've got her settled down."

Hera rolls her eyes, but smiles. "Are you sticking around, Jope?"

"Nah, we're up in an hour." He glances up toward the sun, as it sinks deeper into the sea. "But hey, if you ever are looking for work -"

"Right."

Hera nods, and Jope claps her on the shoulder. "Me juuz ku, chik."

He steps away, disappearing into the dense crowd. Hera stays still for a moment as the others brush by them, and then draws her cloak about her again, pulling her hood lower over her face.

"You really do know people everywhere," Kanan says, because that's kind of always been true.

"So. Isis, huh?"