Chapter Text
Nar Shaddaa felt dangerous; the entire planet bristled with implied threat. Its people kept their heads down and wore their weapons openly. The air was hazy and stank of pollution, spent fuel, and garbage.
Outside the Mantis, Cal Kestis checked his blaster, slung low on his thigh where he could easily reach it. His fingers brushed the empty space on his hip where his lightsaber should have been. It was locked safely in his quarters at the bottom of a spare parts bin. Cal felt antsy without it. He was an awful shot and the blaster was one of Cere’s spares, worn more for looks than actual protection. No one on Nar Shaddaa carried a lightsaber unless they wanted a lot of dangerous attention.
The crew of the Mantis did not want any attention.
Cal waited for his crew on the landing pad, shifting restlessly from side to side. The pad’s permacrete was deeply stained with carbon and leaked fuel and felt greasy under his boots. Greez rushed out of the Mantis, hurrying past Cal to look at his ship. He made a face at the state of the landing pad.
“Look at this,” he said, throwing up all four arms. “This moon is disgusting, and it’s getting all over the Mantis.”
“We won’t be here long,” Cal said to Greez. “Are you coming with us?” Greez gave him an incredulous look.
“Not in a million years, buddy. I’m not leaving the Mantis.”
“It’s a secure landing pad,” Cal said. “They’ve got cameras everywhere, and security droids.” Greez crossed his arms and shook his head.
“I also don’t want to get blasted in some back alley because I looked at someone the wrong way.”
“It’s probably good that someone stays with the ship, in case we need to make a quick escape,” Cal said.
Cere and Merrin met them outside the Mantis. Cal barely recognized them. Cere had traded her usual tunic and vest for a tight jacket with a high collar. Cal noticed the lightweight plates of body armor concealed in the jacket’s crisp lines. She wore two blasters in thigh holsters, and the grip of a vibroblade stuck out from the top of one boot.
Merrin wore a leather jacket over a dark tunic instead of her Nightsister’s robes. A deep green scarf covered her shoulders and the lower half of her face, her amber-brown eyes bright above the fabric. She had no visible weapons, but Cal knew she did not need any. Like Cere, she carried herself with a confidence that lent her an air of implied danger.
Cal himself wore plain black mechanic’s pants and a gray shirt, long-sleeved to hide his tattoo. It would easily identify him to anyone who knew what they were looking at, and Cal did not want to take that risk. He felt strange without his usual rigger’s clothes, but on Nar Shaddaa it was best to look forgettable. His hair was enough to make him stand out.
“You look like smugglers,” Greez said when he saw them.
“We are picking up a load of legal water filters for a legal buyer on Lothal,” Cere said.
“Whatever it takes to make a living in these trying times, right?” Cal asked.
“Our contact said to meet them at the Ghost Nebula bar down in the Corellian sector,” Cere said.
“Is this very legal business always conducted in smuggler’s bars at night?” Merrin asked.
“This kind of business is definitely done in smuggler’s bars at night,” Cal said.
BD-1 beeped on his shoulder in agreement. Cal was so used to the droid’s presence that he had almost forgotten the last thing he needed to do. Looking forgettable required leaving BD-1 behind. He took BD-1 from his shoulder and gently placed him on Greez’s. The droid cocked his head and made a questioning beep.
“Not this time, buddy. Keep Greez company.” BD-1 made a pleading noise. Cal shook his head. “We need to keep a low profile here. Cere and Merrin are with me. I’ll be back soon.” He didn’t like leaving BD-1 behind anymore than BD-1 did. He already felt uncomfortable without his lightsaber and his droid.
“You can help me run some updates on the Mantis’ systems,” Greez said to BD-1. BD-1 made a low blatt of disappointed resignation.
Cere pulled up a map on her datapad, double-checked their route, then tucked it back into the bag slung over her shoulder.
“This way,” she said. “Greez, we’ll be in touch.”
The Ghost Nebula was a low, two-story building made of flaking permacrete and eye-searing neon lighting. It was already crowded, and loud music assaulted them when they entered. Cal instantly wanted to leave, but he forced himself to stay close to Cere and Merrin and keep up his guard. He was acutely aware of the absence of his lightsaber and the fact that he could not use the Force should the need arise.
Merrin walked close to his side, her eyes sweeping the room, taking in everything. He felt her apprehension, and saw it in the tense lines of her shoulders. He wondered what it must be like to be in such a place after years of living in isolation. He reached down and gave her hand a quick squeeze of reassurance. He felt her relax a little, and her fingers tightened around his. Her touch sent a spark of electricity up his arm that Cal tried to ignore. He needed to focus on their surroundings, not how nice it was to hold Merrin’s hand.
Cal and Merrin followed Cere to a low booth in one of the bar’s very back rooms. The air was hazy with fragrant smoke, and Cal wondered if they would all get spice-buzzed just from being in here. Cere slid into a booth and Cal and Merrin took the opposite seat.
A serving droid appeared at their table.
“May I bring you something to drink?” it asked in a melodic tone that Cal had not expected. They put in their drink orders and soon Cal had a glass of amber liquid that burned with every sip. It wasn’t the worst thing Cal had ever drunk, but it left a lot to be desired. Merrin tried hers and considered it thoughtfully.
“What do you think?” Cere asked.
“It’s not bad,” Merrin said, taking another drink. “I do not have much experience with other planets’ liquor.”
“I don’t really think this qualifies as liquor,” Cere said, frowning into her glass.
“It would probably do a pretty good job degreasing engines, though,” Cal said.
Merrin looked around the room. “Who are we meeting?” she asked.
“Our contact goes by the name Courier,” Cere said, leaning back in her booth. “They said they will make themselves known to us. In the meantime, I’ve got our tab.”
Cal was on his second glass of questionable whiskey when a slim figure slid into the booth next to Cere. She was a Twi’lek with lavender skin and heavily tattooed lekku, wearing baggy gray coveralls. She carried no obvious weapons, and her long fingers were deeply stained with black grease. She could have been a mechanic on any world in the galaxy, though Cal suspected she was not.
“Good evening,” she said, her voice deep and smooth. Her gaze lingered on each of them. She had large eyes so dark that Cal couldn’t tell what color they were. Cal got the distinct impression that she was inspecting them the way she might inspect a load of smuggled cargo. Under the table, he rested his fingers on the grip of his blaster, his thumb on the safety. He reached out with the Force and tried to get a sense of her intentions. He was not particularly skilled at this kind of task, but while he sensed caution from the Courier, he felt no outright intention to harm.
“Would you like something to drink?” Cere asked. The Courier flagged down the serving droid.
“A round for the table,” she said.
The drinks arrived, and the Courier finished hers in two swallows. “Now, to business,” she said. “I have a load of water purifiers purchased by a private buyer on Lothal. You are able to transport them?”
“Terms first,” Cere said. The Courier raised one manicured brow. She placed a small holochip on the table and toggled it on. Cal read the amount and nearly choked on his whiskey. It was enough to keep them comfortable for several months, and complete some upgrades to the Mantis.
“We will pay seventy five percent up front and the remainder upon confirmation of delivery,” the Courier said. Cere read the terms and held out her hand.
“Agreed.” The Courier clasped her hand and shook it.
“Very good. My partner will meet you at your ship with the cargo tomorrow morning,” the Courier said. Cere tapped their dock information into the chip.
“We’ll be waiting for you.”
The Courier kept her distance as she followed the smugglers through the Corellian sector's maze of streets. They were armed to the teeth, and she did not want to catch their attention. Their ship was parked at one of the public pads. It was not difficult to follow them there: the tall, red-haired one stood out in the crowd.
Rumor had it that he was a Jedi. Now that she had seen him, she was certain he was the right person. She knew the bounty on Jedi-- it was an almost unbelievable sum. It would be enough to fund her cause for years. She ducked into an alley and keyed her commlink.
“The Jedi is here. He is going to Lothal, with his crew,” she said over the encrypted channel. The channel crackled with static.
“Acknowledged,” came the reply.
Cal was relieved when they arrived back at the Mantis. Nar Shaddaa’s streets felt even more unsafe at night, and more than once he had slapped away a shadowy hand reaching for his pocket.
“Greez, we’re back,” Cere called over the comm. The Mantis’ ramp opened and Greez stood inside, BD-1 on his shoulder. Cal noticed Greez held a blaster, and it was the first time he had ever seen Greez with a gun.
Cal didn’t feel truly safe until Greez closed the ramp behind them, sealing them inside.
“Do we have a deal?” Greez asked. Cere nodded.
“We’ll load up tomorrow,” she said.
“And what are we hauling?”
“Water purifiers, to Lothal,” Cere said. Greez punched this into the navicomputer and the holotable projected an image of Lothal. BD-1 jumped from his shoulder and landed on the holotable by Cal’s hand, his head cocked at the map.
“Hmm,” Greez said. “Looks like the Empire’s pretty well established there.” He tapped the screen, flicking through data. “Mining, industrial yards, plenty of security. I don’t like it.” Cal felt a prickle of anxiety between his shoulder blades as he read the data screen. Lothal was an Imperial world, and their crew was now known to the Empire.
“I don’t like it either,” he said, and Cere and Merrin looked at him.
“I thought you might say that,” Cere said. “There’s something else here that might interest you.”
“What’s that?”
“A Jedi temple,” Cere said. Cal hadn’t realized that any of the old temples or other places of knowledge had survived the Empire’s destruction.
“Do you think it might have anything left from the old order?” Cal asked. The prospect of rescuing some knowledge that hadn’t been destroyed in the purge intrigued him. Cere shrugged.
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe there’s something in there that survived the purge. We can get to it before the Empire does.”
“We should have some time to look around,” Cere said.
“Why does Lothal need water filters?” Merrin asked as she studied the map. “Does the Empire not provide for its citizens? That is what their broadcasts say.” Her voice was heavy with skepticism.
“We just deliver the stuff, we don’t ask questions,” Greez said. “Asking questions is where people get into trouble.”
Across the table, Merrin caught Cal’s gaze.
“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow,” Cal said. “Wouldn’t be the first time we found out the Empire wasn’t telling the whole truth.”
Later, as Cal undressed for bed, Merrin’s question turned over in his mind. He tried not to question the provenance of the goods in the Mantis’ hold. He had made an uneasy peace long ago on Bracca with the fact that he often had to do things to survive that contributed to the system he despised. But why would a private buyer on an Imperial planet need a load of water purification systems?
He thought about Zeffo, where the Empire’s mining for resources had destabilized huge regions of the planet and displaced its people. Maybe something similar had happened on Lothal.
Cal got into bed and curled up on his side, too tired to follow that train of thought. He killed the light and pulled his blanket over his head. BD-1 beeped at him from the workbench, and Cal mumbled a goodnight.
He dreamed of Zeffo’s clear blue ice, cracked and broken under the Empire’s machines.