Getting to Know the Neighborhood
The bright flash where white lightsaber meets red is blinding. His eyes aren’t meant to be taking in so much light at once, but he doesn’t really need to see details to dispose of this idiot, the last Dark Jedi between himself and the traitor. His limbs are so much longer than those of a human that he just reaches over the other’s guard and cuts off both his arms above the elbow. The Dark Jedi doesn’t have a chance to scream before he cuts their throat. A mercy stroke, he tells himself. Now he just has to-
I’m the one dreaming right now, and you are *not* one of us.
Steven wakes up, choking on his own spit as he takes a sudden, deep gasp of air. He rolls onto his side, hacking and wheezing. Once he can breathe again, he takes in his surroundings. He’s on a cot with no bedding in a dilapidated living space. The air smells of decay and the artificial lighting flickers, greenish from the algae that has grown over the light sources. There are a few pieces of intact furniture, including a few chairs. Sitting in one, watching him curiously, is Layla El’Faouly.
Memory returns and he groans. He doesn’t want to remember the Endar Spire, the screaming, the dead. It would be better to go back to sleep, dead to the world. Then again, his skin is clammy, his heart is still racing from his nightmare so maybe facing reality was preferable to returning to the realm of dreams.
“Glad you’re awake. Really awake, I mean. You’ve been slipping in and out of consciousness for a couple days now.” Her voice, now that it’s not strained with urgency, is warm and light, for all the tone is serious. “That last one looked like a hell of a nightmare. Want some water?”
“Yes please. Wh-where are we?” Steven croaks, finally rallying himself to sit up.
She pauses in handing over a canteen, looking at him strangely. “You sound- nevermind. You were pretty banged up during the crash. It’s no real shock you’re a bit confused. I told you before; we’re on Taris. I dragged you out of the wreck and into this apartment block. It’s not prime real estate, so there were a few abandoned units. We’ve been hiding in this one.”
Taris. Urban planet. Fifth from its star. Heavily polluted. Plagued by social unrest, massive inequality and civil war. Recently conquered by the sith . That had all been in a holo Steven had read while looking for some history on outer rim colonies. He’d been more interested in the trade route history than the long accounts of civil wars on the planet itself, but that information had stuck too.
“You’re sure nobody will notice we’re here? Like, we didn’t just take some poor person’s house, right? Cheers.” He takes the canteen from her, drinking in measured sips. It wouldn’t do to choke again right after he’d just mastered breathing.
“I mean, nobody’s been by yet and we don’t have any other options, so…” She shrugs, gesturing as if to indicate all the options they do not have. “What’s your name?”
“Right! That was rude of me. I’m Steven Grant. With a ‘v’ but in the Steven, not the Grant part obviously. And I already know who you are.” Okay, so he hadn’t until Trask briefly explained, but he doesn’t want her to know he’d never heard of her, even when they were working together. Indirectly working together. On the same ship with scores of workers and-
He loses track of his thoughts as she reaches over and clasps his hand. Her fingers are dainty, but a lifetime of fighting and fixing things has left calluses on her skin. She’s also smiling at him, or at least at his ramblings, and he can feel his face start to warm. Quickly, he drops her hand.
“What did you do on the Endar Spire? I- you don’t carry yourself like any of the soldiers.” Or anyone else she’d known on the ship, really.
“Hm? Oh, I was a tech. Just… just directing droids or doing things they weren’t complex enough for.” Steven fiddles with his jacket hem nervously. “Sorry, I doubt I’ll be much help with… with whatever we’re doing, besides hiding I mean.”
“Well, we have a few things to get done.” She claps her hands together. “Since the Sith took over Taris, they’ve declared martial law and enforced a planet wide blockade. The Republic won’t be able to get to us, even if they had the resources to look for possible survivors. So! First, we find Konshu, then we find a way off this planet.”
Steven is, at heart, an optimist, however, her summary of the situation looks very bleak to him. He drags both hands down his face, taking the moment to push back some of the anxiety bubbling up in his chest. “Konshu… How do we know he survived his landing, if it was anything like ours?”
“Because the Sith are still looking for him. I went out a couple times while you were unconscious and heard they’re sending patrols into the undercity, looking for more of the Endar Spire’s escape pods. If Konshu was in one, I’m sure he’s fending for himself. For now. He’ll still need our help getting off the planet.”
Undercity of Taris. After the lower rebelled against the nobles who had ruined their planet, the surviving rebels and their descendants were banished to the undercity. It is infested with dangerous creatures and living conditions are very poor . Steven wishes he could tell his mum that all that reading about planets he’d never visit was actually coming in handy now.
“It’s dangerous down there. Not just Sith hunting or criminals, there’s these things called rackguls that I’ve read about and they-”
“He’ll be fine.” She interrupts, voice firm. Their future is precarious enough without Steven’s many ‘what ifs’ in her opinion. It’s either operate like Konshu is alive and they’ll find a way back to the Republic, or it’s give up and that is not an option, at least for Layla. “He’s a great Jedi; part of the strike team that killed Darth Spector. He’s key to the Republic war effort.”
Steven whistles, impressed. Spector was the one who’d started all this, before the Republic had a chance to recover from the Mandalorian wars. There’d been hope things would wind down after the rogue Jedi’s death, but instead Ammit had just taken his place. Reading about it on a news holo back home, Steven had actually felt sick. Logically, he’d known the death of one man couldn’t stop this all at once, but it just didn’t seem fair.
“Well that’s it then, yeah? Undercity, here we come.” Steven says, standing up and stretching. Both he and Layla wince as every single one of his joints pop loudly.
“Guess you were a little stiff?” She teases as they head out into the hallway.
“I let my morning routine go after recent events. No time to stretch. That’s important when you’re over thirty.” He says seriously, though he can’t keep his mouth straight, grinning down at his shoes.
The long, curved hallway is better kept than their hiding place, but still has an air of disrepair about it. It may be in the upper city, but it certainly wasn’t a place frequented by Tarisian nobles.
They’d just rounded the bend when a sharp voice yelled “Up against the wall, alien scum! This is a raid!”
Steven has time to think that maybe he’s a Sith magnet, because what are the odds of there being a patrol here, out of all the buildings on a planet that was mostly buildings, before Layla is shoving him back around the bend, out of sight.
“[There was just a patrol here yesterday and they found nothing! Why won’t you leave us alone?]” The speaker isn’t using Basic, but Steven understands well enough. He glances at Layla to see her lips moving, working out what had been said.
“We should go the other-” He starts whispering, already backing up towards their hideout, when three blaster shots in quick succession make both of them freeze. Someone cries out a name, but the irate voice of the Sith patrol leader cuts over any further mourning.
“I said up against the wall! No back talk!”
Layla draws two short vibro-blades from her belt, her face like stone. “If you can’t help, stay behind me.” She moves so fast that Steven doesn’t have time to make an alternate suggestion. The patrol is small, one human and two droids. Layla slams into the human from behind, slitting one blade across his throat in a practiced motion. She lets the momentum carry her and the now dead Sith into one of the droids, knocking it off balance long enough to put her other dagger through its head. The remaining droid turns on her, its targeting computer momentarily confused by the corpse of its commander between them. Before it can confirm he’s dead and shoot through to hit her, Layla draws a blaster with her free hand and shoots it twice. The whole thing took seconds.
Steven now rushes forwards, pushing the Sith’s body off her and holding out a hand. “That-that was amazing! You’re so fast! Wow!” He’s beaming at her like a fool, he knows, but he really is very impressed. For a moment, he doesn’t even care that he just touched a dead body or that there’s another one on the floor beside them.
“[Poor Ixgil…]” They both turn to the surviving Duros who is looking regretfully at the murdered alien at his feet. “[He should never have talked back to the Sith. I’m glad you were here, I just-]”
“[Wish it had been earlier. Us too.]” Steven says sadly.
The Duros starts when Steven responds in the same language. “[I understand Basic, you know. The words just don’t always come out right.]” He sounds a little offended, as though Steven is implying something about his intelligence.
“What? Didn’t mean anything by it. I just… have a hard time hearing in one language and thinking and speaking in another at the same time.” Steven switches to Basic, holding out his hand in a placating gesture. He thinks Layla might’ve snickered.
The Duros’ brow wrinkles slightly. “[It’s not… rude, per se. Just very strange for a human, on Taris at least, to bother with any language besides Basic.]” He looks over Layla and her handiwork. “[Then again, you are not from Taris, are you? Do not worry. I wouldn’t tell the Sith.]” He prodded the dead officer with a toe. “[I’d best move these. Make it look like they died somewhere else. That’ll keep the patrols elsewhere for now.]”
“Thank you.”
He waves off Layla’s thanks and hoists the dead human body up by the armpits, dragging it away without another word.
“Do you speak more than one alien language?” Layla asks, curiously, as they head out of the apartment block.
“Oh yes! I mean, my mouth isn’t the right shape for all the sounds, but I understand quite a few.” Steven brightens up. Linguistics is the one thing he was pretty good at, for all it wasn’t that useful when protocol droids were so common, in the core systems at least. “I learned most of them so I could read untranslated old holos- I’m not bragging. It’s not really-” He cuts himself off. “You understood him too. It’s not an uncommon non-Basic dialect.”
Layla just shrugs, smiling. “Yes, but I don’t speak it as well as you. There’s lots of aliens in the lower city. Maybe some of them won’t know Basic.” ‘And then maybe you’ll be useful for something’ is what she’s saying. The pessimistic thoughts are back. Goody . “I didn’t see many non-humans when I was exploring up here before…”
“There is a lot of human/alien tension on this planet. Or that’s what I read. Aliens aren’t really supposed to be in the upper city except to work.” Steven wrinkles his nose in distaste. Of the many planets he’s day dreamed about visiting, Taris was not on the list. It’s always been a shithole.From what I’ve read.Sure.
Layla seems to know where they’re going, so Steven lets her lead, keeping his attention on the people bustling around them. He hears snatches of conversation and files it all away in case they need it later. He can always remember information if he’s focusing on that and nothing else, such as maintaining eye contact, coming up with a response or not tripping over his own feet.
“-heard the gangs have overrun the lower city.”
“Why don’t the Sith go down there and restore order?”
“-Sith quarantine actually good for business, I mean look at-”
“-looking for Republic survivors to take prisoner!”
“Swoop bikes go so fast!” That last one was a gleeful child, running at full speed down the sidewalk. Steven has to side step fast to avoid a crash, falling a little behind Layla before jogging to catch up.
She walks right up to the big elevator that will take them down to the lower city as if she’s meant to be there. She’s found a good 40% of sneaking around is just acting like you’re allowed to be there. Sure enough, the Sith sentry barely glances her way.
“Authorization papers?” He doesn’t expect her not to have them. Shame she doesn't.
“We’re just going down to-”
“This elevator is off limits. Only exceptions are official patrols or citizen guides.” He’s paying more attention now, but still sounds bored.
“Wh-where might one get authorization papers?” Steven pipes up.
“If you were supposed to have them, you’d already know. Go away. You don’t want to go down there anyway. Trust me.” He’s getting irritated.
Layla turns on her heel, grabs Steven’s elbow and gets out of the guard’s line of sight. She’s noticed Steven never resists when she physically steers him around, though his eyebrows always shoot up at the contact, dark eyes focused on wherever her hand is touching him.
“Okay. So, authorization papers.” She frowns, thoughtfully. They could try and find a civilian guide and take that person’s papers, but that would take time-
“Or uniforms.” Steven suggests.
“Good idea.” Layla shoots him a quick smile and notices how it brightens his whole demeanor for a moment. Glancing across the street, she watches the Sith soldier stationed outside the cantina wave in a very familiar way to a woman going inside. When getting supplies while Steven was unconscious, she’d heard that was a popular hang out for off duty Sith stuck at the base in the upper city. Getting a tipsy person out of their armor would probably be easier than mugging an alert, armed Sith patrol. A quick look at Steven, who was now staring vacantly at the pollution tinted skyline, reminded her just how alone she would be in such a fight. Off to get a Sith soldier drunk it is.