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The Force Always Says Yes [Star Wars]

Reader mode
Chapter 55: The Republic Doesn't Exist Out Here
Chapter 55: The Republic Doesn't Exist Out Here​

The An'omarr Monastery was a strange complex of buildings, comprised of four round towers of irregular height, width, and spacing, shunning the symmetry that he realized both Jedi and Sith architecture strived for. The complex was surrounded by an old, worn down sandstone wall, which was utterly covered in posters and graffiti that he could hardly make out. In fact, as he got closer to the temple, he realized the buildings proper were covered in visual clutter as well.

The largest of the rotund towers, somewhere slightly northwest to the center of the complex, had what appeared to be tens of thousands of faces painted in murals across it, of individuals of countless species. Some had been covered in other graffiti, marring the murals with lime green spray paint dripping down the wall.

Nerim tilted his head. "Not what I expected of a religious institution."

Tetha exhaled in amusement. "Certainly not. At least it seems to be open to public admission," she noted, pointing towards the open gates where people had congregated.

They approached, squeezing in through the crowds who were mostly loitering and chattering among themselves, until reaching the gateway. At the opening there were two guards, one a hulking pig-like Gamorrean who hefted a traditional war axe, and the other a scarred and wiry Trandoshan who rested a primitive slugthrower on his shoulder as he leaned against the wall. When they got close, the Gamorrean held out a fat hand to gesture for them to stop.

"Hold it, sssstreet trash," the Trandoshan wheezed, pulling out a paddle-like device. "Gotta give you a sssscan first."

"A scan?" Tetha repeated blankly, very aware of the lightsaber in her jacket.

The Trandoshan gave her a reptilian grin. "Oh? Nervoussss?" He cackled, stepping forward. "Now why would that be?"

Tetha began to step back, but as she did so, the Gamorrean reached forward and grabbed her by the left elbow. Nerim's hand shot out just in time to grab Tetha's right wrist before she could draw her lightsaber. "Cool your jets," he said evenly, as her eyes zeroed in on his. There was a slight panic and sense of betrayal in her expression, but she decided to trust him.

The Trandoshan, who had immediately leveled his slugthrower at the two as soon as Tetha began reaching, let out a rattling sigh. "Yeah, listen to the little guy," he said. "Better to go back in chains than in a box, eh?"

"Chains?" Tetha asked, confused. The Trandoshan swept the two of them with the scanner, which gave an affirmative beep signaling the all-clear. The Trandoshan tilted his head and sneered in surprise.

"Nnnhh?" He hummed in confusion, looking to the silent Gamorrean, who shrugged and let go of her.

Nerim turned to Tetha. "It's not a weapon scanner, it's a slave scanner. It looks for implants."

Tetha blinked in confusion, and the Trandoshan barked a laugh of disbelief. "Oh! Hahahah!" The reptile cackled. "She from Republic space or something?"

"Something like that," Nerim said, shrugging as nonchalantly as he could manage.

The Trandoshan leaned back up against the wall. "Tourists! Always trying to get themselves killed! No, we're just hired by the Cartel to make sure no slaves get in there. The monks have an annoying tendency to free them, y'sssee."

"I see..." Tetha trailed off, rubbing her elbow where the Gamorrean had grabbed her.

"Go on," the Trandoshan waved dismissively.

The two of them walked past the guards, and both let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks," Tetha muttered.

"Sorry," Nerim frowned, "I didn't exactly expect it either. I did some studying on slave implants since...Well, I came into contact with them," he said sheepishly. "They usually have bombs and transmitters hidden inside their bodies, to identify them and keep them from running away."

"Stars..." She shook her head in disbelief. "Barbaric. I'm sure I would have some of those implants too, if it weren't so heavily associated with Hutt slavery."

They looked around. The courtyard was lively, with people milling around alone and in groups, walking from tower to tower, or meditating in the shade next to rock gardens. Despite the all-encompassing visual clutter, the actual grounds themselves were kept quite clean. The guards were hired by the Cartel, but it seemed as though the monastery itself had no security—it was impossible for him to even make out any monks in the courtyard, as everyone appeared to simply be random civilians that had wandered in. For a moment, he worried that the temple had actually been abandoned.

Tetha tapped on his arm and pointed with her other hand to a humanoid protocol droid which was waddling across the courtyard. They approached it, and when its eyes caught them, Tetha bluntly asked "Where are the monks?"

"Hello!" It chirped pleasantly, with a jerky motion. "I do not know where the monks are."

"...What?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I do not know where the monks are!" It repeated helpfully, in the same tone but louder.

Tetha closed her eyes for a moment in annoyance and shook her head. "Do you belong to this monastery?"

"No!" It emphatically answered. "I am the droid of Hanapp O Shutt, a wealthy businessman of high renown! I am attempting to navigate back to the droid bay, but I cannot find my way out of the monastery."

Nerim slowly turned around, and then back to the droid, and pointed over his shoulder to the doorway. "Uh...That way?"

"Hm. That would seem reasonable," the droid agreed. "However, it appears I am programmed to not go through that doorway. How odd."

"How long have you been here?" He asked, confused. "In Republic Standard."

"Roughly sixteen Coruscant years!" It said cheerfully.

Tetha placed a hand to her forehead and let it fall down her face. "Fantastic. Useless bucket of bolts..."

"Why! How unbecoming!" The droid responded, huffing and turning its nose up.

"Don't be mean to it," Nerim frowned.

"It's a droid!" Tetha rolled her eyes. "Why is it even programmed to take offense?"

"Some people find it funnier that way," a fourth voice spoke from behind them. Tetha and Nerim both whipped around, to see a deeply strange figure. He appeared perhaps near-human, but the exact species was difficult to tell for a variety of reasons.

His face had been painted with stark lines and cubic patterns. False eyes painted onto his forehead and cheeks looked as real as—well, at least the ones he assumed were the real ones. His teeth and tongue were dyed black and his lips split by the painted lines, making it impossible to make out his facial expression as he spoke, and his hair seemed to be a mane of feathers—although whether they were natural or not was beyond Nerim's ability to discern. His clothes were fairly concealing and indistinct as well, made of a large brown poncho underneath which poked two gloved hands and roughspun pants that ended in pointy boots.

"Ah!" The droid lit up. "This individual appears to be one of the novice monks."

"Is that so?" Tetha asked, leaning back somewhat in discomfort.

"Probably!" The figure responded. "Either that or someone dressed up as a monk and pretended to induct me as a prank. It's happened before."

"I know exactly how you feel," Nerim smiled.

Tetha raised an eyebrow and looked to the tower whose shadow they stood in, covered in posters and murals. "This is a...remarkably lax place, for a monastery."

"Sort of," the monk admitted. "At least by the standards of other monastics, sure. Now, what are you two doing here?" He asked, tilting his head far too much, almost going upside down like a bird.

Nerim clasped his hands behind his back, and Tetha crossed her arms. "What, we can't just mill about like everyone else?" She asked rhetorically.

"Well, you look like you're here to get in trouble," he said nodding to her. "And you look like you're here to get her out of it," he nodded to Nerim.

Nerim smiled beatifically. "I think you could make a convincing argument it's the opposite."

"Hah!" The monk laughed and nodded, hobbling over to a rock and sitting down on it. "So, what is it? Looking for surgery or something? Can't imagine you wanting to drop those carnates."

"Surgery? Carnates?" Nerim asked curiously.

The monk grinned. At least, Nerim thought he did; the paint morphed along with the monk's face, displaying both a happy and sorrowful face. "You really did just wander in here without a clue, huh? In the An'omarr Order, we refer to our bodies as carnates. Tens of thousands of years ago, we perfected the fundamentals of surgery to change the carnate. To even switch carnates. We developed this technology for spiritual purposes, but many seek us out for more...profane reasons. Many slaves attempt to convince us to remove their implants and change their identities, so they may be free."

"And do you?" Tetha asked neutrally.

"Every time."

The two shared a brief look of surprise and looked back to the monk, who was in the process of retrieving a pipe and lighting it. "What exactly is the spiritual purpose to switching bodies?" Nerim asked.

The monk exhaled a cloud of foul-smelling smoke. "Our goal, ultimately is to release the notion of the self of brain, or the self of carnate, and embrace the self of luumoghra, or of many in harmony. As we switch carnates, we shed our attachments to certain features of the carnates. We begin with the visible body, and then slowly lobotomize ourselves, removing our brains bit by bit until we no longer are our brains, but simply are."

Tetha's jaw clenched, and Nerim paled. "O-oh," Nerim said dumbly.

Tetha pursed her lips. "So, when the droid said you were a novice monk..."

The monk tapped his temple. "Yep. Still got most of it up here. Unfortunately." He cackled. "You can tell I'm a novice because you can recognize me as a monk. My first step was to shed my profane identity and become a monk. The next step is to shed the monk identity and become a person who is nobody in particular. I have been a man, woman, Ithorian, Gand, Twi'lek, young, old..."

Tetha glanced again to Nerim, with a worried expression that asked "Is any of this true?"

Nerim's non-verbal reply was a desperate "I have no kriffin' idea."

"Of course I got kicked back to being a monk, 'cause I keep breaking character," the monk nodded sagely. "Think I could do with less prefrontal cortex, but the old masters won't take it off me."

"And where are these old masters, exactly?" Tetha asked, morbidly curious.

The monk shrugged. "Hell if I know. They could be anyone. You wouldn't happen to be one of them, would you?"

There was a profoundly uncomfortable silence that lasted about twenty seconds, as the monk continued to smoke away. Then he spoke, this time in Basic, instead of Huttese. "So, like I was asking earlier. What are two Jedi doing here?"

Nerim's back suddenly straightened with a start, and the monk's many painted faces lit up.

"Aha! Written all over your face, kid! Eeeh heh!" he cackled.

"I am not a member of the Jedi Order," Nerim quickly clarified.

"Okay," the monk said, taking a drag off his pipe. "So what kinda Jedi are you? If you're the bad kind, hate to tell you this, but we ain't got no money."

Tetha and Nerim shared another glance. "D-do you sense anything?" He asked.

"I really don't think he has the Force," she shook her head in disbelief.

"Hah! It's called 'having been around the block', kid." The An'omarr monk leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Either that, or making wild accusations until one sticks."

"Listen, keep it down, we're—" Tetha looked to either side, to make sure no one was in earshot, "—We're trying to help a friend. Someone else who's strong in the Force, who may have been here."

"A friend, huh?" The monk repeated skeptically.

"Well, more like..." Nerim tilted from side to side, trying to think of how to word it, "...An ally in the cause of not being exploded by slaver bombs."

The monk slowly smiled. "And?"

"And she may have been here," Tetha said lowly. "Maybe a long time ago. We were hoping you could help us track down where she's been taken to."

The monk pointed behind them, to the squat tower covered in murals. "Do you see her face on that?"

The two of them turned and looked. The murals were of a myriad of species, but the only Togruta they saw on it looked very much not like their woman; it was a man with a rather severe overbite and partly covered with a neon green line of spraypaint that pierced through a dozen others to spell out some local gang's callsign.

"Uh, no?" Nerim shrugged. When they turned back, the monk was gone from the rock. Nerim felt a hand clasp around his shoulder and jumped in surprise, whipping around to see the An'omarr monk standing right next to him.

"Of course not! Y'see, every face we paint on there is very meticulously, mathematically arranged from the biometric data of the entire Republic citizenry, and anyone who's ever appeared in the Bounty Hunter Guild's database, among others, which covers the majority of known sentients. Or rather, I should say, it's arranged in the opposite of that data. These are faces that, to the best of our knowledge, have never existed," the monk nodded sagely.

Tetha raised an eyebrow and gently tugged on Nerim to retrieve him from the mad monk's grip. "Your point being...?" She asked.

The monk's face whipped around to them, a feather drifting out of his mane. "The point being, if she exists, she isn't here. We don't keep records of our visitors or acolytes, and we swap carnates regularly. She could have been me and I still couldn't recall her face or name."

Nerim and Tetha quietly contemplated the bind they were in, and Nerim looked back up to the monastery towers and the murals. After a moment, he furrowed his brow. "So the An'omarr don't keep their own records. But you do have access to the biometrics of most of the known Galaxy's inhabitants?"

"Yep!" He nodded.

"Can you take me to where you access these records?"

The monk tilted his head far too much again. "That's deep in the vaults of our monastery. Not just anyone can go in there."

After a moment of consideration, Nerim clasped his hands behind his back and nodded sagely. "Well, uh, you were actually right with your first accusation. I'm a high ranking monk of the An'omarr Order."

"Fantastic! Let's go then!" The monk nodded enthusiastically, waddling forward towards one of the towers.

Tetha slightly frowned. "You should really be more careful what you sign yourself up for."

"It's not like I'm bound to this Order," Nerim said nonchalantly. "I can just take the parts I like and then leave when I'm done."

Her frown deepened. "Oh, I hate that."
 
MemeKing said:
These Monks sound fun, like a slightly less insane B'omarr Order. I suspect they are decended from similar religious roots, with the similar beliefs regarding the body.
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Yeah, you're on the money, definitely related to them. I've always thought it was kinda funny how little we really find out about the B'omarr and their origins, given how infamous Star Wars is for having an entire 25,000 year long backstory for every onscreen element. They're also just so strange and particular, and bring up a lot of interesting questions. I really enjoy them, and not just because that guy's outfit is probably the most baller fashion in the entirety of Star Wars history.
 
Also the description of the An'omarr temple tower makes me think of this photo of Meenakshi Temple:
5a433cd7f8ea09dfad052e052c4827f4.jpg
 
The barer temples usually have an attitude of freeing themselves from unnecessary clutter, don't they?

This temple also does, in its own way. Proudly displaying all the things you're about to leave behind.
 
The monks sound fun. Regularly shifting identities is neat.

I am curious how much their procedures actually succeed at their stated purpose. Because it certainly is possible that they move out of their brains and become Force Ghosts, but in a very slow and drawn out process, with lots of small rituals that migrate one part of them at a time. Makes me wonder if it works in reverse too.

I want to play around with minds and souls so badly. Especially my own.
 
Chapter 56: I Sense A Trap New
Aaand I'm back! This took longer than expected, mostly due to IRL stuff getting quite busy over the last few months. Sorry for the wait! The other half of the equation was an interesting challenge in writing this. I actually know more or less all the scenes I want to have between now, the end of this arc, and even up through to the end of the next arc and finale of the story in general. However, I did not know what order I wanted these scenes to happen in; a lot of them were actually interchangeable with some work, and so I was tempted to shift around and try every possible combination. Which is, frankly, too many to try, and it got me stuck for a bit. But by now I've mostly figured it out. I have all the chapters up until the end of this arc already written. We're starting out with a pretty small one, but they'll get longer as they go. Thanks for waiting!


Chapter 56: I Sense A Trap​

Nerim followed after the mad monk, his trudging footsteps crunching the plastic and glass sand beneath his feet. Upon entering the tower, the sound slowly transitioned from the dusted sands crunching to the plodding echoes of stone underneath their boots.

The rooms were bright, well lit with windows and golden lights emitting from tubes on the walls that Nerim inexplicably recognized from his studies at the Jedi Temple; they were of an ancient design, remarkable for being found to be still operational after thousands of years at several archaeological digs the Jedi underwent on their own ruins. He wondered just how much maintenance the monks did—or didn't—perform on their own monastery.

The design of absolutely everything was rounded, from the corridors to the domed roofs. The floors, he realized, were covered in some sort of mosaic patterns, but what exactly it was ended up being somewhat indistinguishable to him; many were newer than than others, and he belatedly realized that whatever pattern was there originally was not being followed by the replacement tiles. The result was so many intricate patterns that it was impossible to identify any of them.

He craned his head around to look at each of the features, and the An'omarr monk turned to him and laughed. "No time to meditate now," he said, turning and walking forward again. "You're in a rush, after all."

"I never said we're in a rush," Nerim said evenly.

"Well, you ought to be!" He rasped. "Force Users tend to get into trouble remarkably quickly, especially when other Force Users are involved."

Tetha tilted her head. "How much experience do you have with Force Sensitives?"

"Well how could I possibly know that?" He snorted, leading them up a spiral staircase. "It's not like you people always identify yourselves. And most people who do actually aren't. But I've met at least a few. I think most of the time, you can look at them and just...tell."

"Sounds counterproductive to the An'omarr Order," Nerim noted.

"It's more complicated than that. We do not seek to be anonymous, we seek to be anyone. There is a difference," he said, ducking under a colorful ribbon that had been strung up in the archway that served as the staircase's exit. He lead them into a wide open-air chamber, surrounded with a circular balcony through which a cool breeze entered from the west and exited to the east.

They certainly weren't the only ones enjoying the weather, as the chamber sported not only a half-dozen more zig-zag-faced monks, but also what appeared to be a number of youths. Rodians, Dugs, Humans, Twi'leks, and more lazed about the rotunda, some basking in the sun while others enjoyed the shade. Some seemed to be playing games with some sort of handheld technology, while others were smoking and drinking various substances they probably ought not, and two Bith strummed on strange stringed instruments they rested in their laps, producing an amateur but pleasing melody textured with missed notes and occasional stops and restarts.

He supposed it made sense for a youth hangout to be held in a place like this, if the monks never barred entry. It was calm, interesting, with large spaces and, importantly, outside of the overview of parents and other authority figures who cared. Tetha gently elbowed him in the side and smiled. "Looks like fun."

"Every time I stop in a place like this I end up picking up a new hanger-on," he said playfully, "Often rather troublesome ones."

"What, regretting me already?"

He laughed, and the monk lead them up another smaller spiral staircase and into another round room. This one was full of computer equipment, lining each of the walls, with ancient glass holographic displays visualizing various pieces of data. There were a few more individuals in this room that were not obviously monks, including a few more bookish-looking youths accessing the computers with their personal datapads, as well as adult individuals tapping at consoles.

He was shocked to suddenly see another Mandalorian, clad in green and yellow armor with an insignia he recognized as the symbol of the Maroneida Clan, one relatively close to Jianno's own Jae'Narkraata clan. She had never mentioned them besides noting in passing that they were one of the "reasonable" clans which did not consider the use of crushgaunts or chemical weapons dishonorable. The Mando was seemingly downloading a great deal of information from one of the large consoles, which was located near a ladder that lead to the roof, where there was a cluster of antennae and satellite dishes.

"This," the monk said, gesturing widely, "is where we gather our information from the Galaxy's most comprehensive databases. It's so much easier now that the holonet has extended so far."

Nerim looked around at the inhabitants. "These can't all be monks, can they?"

"You're exactly right!" The monk said joyously. "They can not. It wouldn't work if they were."

"What does that mean?" Tetha asked curiously.

"I'm a monastic, I'm entitled to be cryptic!" The monk laughed. "Think about it!"

Nerim smiled. "How do we access the holonet from here?"

The monk shrugged, and then began walking back down the stairs. "I don't know that right now. Good luck!"

The two of them were left standing there, and Tetha crossed her arms. "Well, what now?"

"Ask for help?" Nerim suggested.

Tetha grimaced. "And who exactly would be helpful here?"

"So judgmental," he tutted. "Let's ask him," he pointed to the Mando.

"The Mandalorian?" She frowned.

"It's not like it's my first rodeo," he rolled his eyes.

She frowned. "And what are you going to tell him?"

"When you can't think of a good lie, it's often because the truth would work just as well."

"Are you crazy?!" She whispered loudly as he walked over to the Mando.

"Excuse me!" Nerim started in Huttese. The Mandalorian very slightly turned to him, and then proceeded to ignore him. "I'm looking for someone, I'm hoping you could help me navigate the database."

"600 wupiupi," the Mandalorian replied gruffly, with a rough male voice.

"It's for Jae'Narkraata," he said quickly, knowing it was a coinflip if the Mandalorian would then raise the price. Or start a fight.

Slowly, the helmet turned towards him. "How are you associated with Jae'Narkraata?"

He switched to speaking Mandalorian. "This is gonna sound strange, but I'm an exiled former Jedi who arrested a clanmate once, used her aptitude for hunting Cartels, and I've kind of ended up in her debt and fond of her people. I need the information to stage a breakout."

There was a pregnant silence, and then a short nod. "Okay. 600 wupiupi, when you have the ability to pay," he said amenably.



___________________________________________________________________________________



Nerim took a deep breath of the fresh air, sitting atop the tower of the monastery. In order to quickly search the entire holonet, the Mandalorian had taught him, he had to link into the central housing unit of the antennae and dishes from the top, before they split the data into the various ancient computers housed below. Of course, this was still a bit of a drawn out process, and he and Tetha had been sitting atop the tower for some time—not that either minded. He sat in a meditative position with Tetha's jacket in his lap, feeling the wind gently blow his hair in the breeze.

Tetha, who had doffed her jacket and was spread out on the roof, closed her eyes and grinned up at the sun. "Finally, sweet sunlight," she sighed contently. "Never take me back to Saarkane again."

"I like Saarkane," Nerim replied.

Tetha stretched and turned, laying on her stomach and luxuriating in the sun. "You like their booze."

"I think the whole planet is pretty. The locals are cute, too."

"Nonsense. It's much too dark and foggy. How can it be pretty if you can't even see anything? Even the locals are too dark to see!"

"Darkness and fog are things to see. You have to appreciate it for what it is. I like it, it makes me feel like the world is wrapped close around me."

"Hmm," she opened her eyes and looked up at him while soaking up the warmth from the rooftop. "Well I prefer bright, clear planets where you can see out to the horizon."

"You'd like Cathar." He smiled down at her, and then was alerted by a ding on his datapad. He looked down at it, and then began scrolling through the various individuals that met the criteria he had set. His finger traced along the datapad, scrolling faster than his eyes could make out any individual faces, until he felt a sudden urge to tap down and stop it.

"There she is," he said, blinking in surprise. It was the face from his memory. The Togruta woman now, apparently, had a name and a history. "Vena Riila, wanted for burglary...kidnapping...murder."

His lips pursed as he read the various scraps of information the Bounty Hunter's Guild had available on her. At least four systems and two Hutts had considerable bounties on her, all outside of Republic space. Most were quite old, too—hinting that she got better at getting away with it over time.

"Murder?" Tetha repeated back at him. "This is the precious angel you're supposed to save, right?"

He frowned. "I was never under any illusions she was perfect. And besides, these are just accusations. She's never stood trial for any of these."

"Can't imagine why."

He sighed and lowered the datapad. "Look, I don't imagine she's a great person. She tried to kill me, after all. But she's a person bereft of all power over her life, and she asked for my help. That's all."

Tetha stared at him impassively, laying on the warm tiles and absorbing the sunlight like a dragon at rest. "There's every chance you might be the one who has to kill her, instead of her 'employers,' you know."

"I will do what I must," he said in a neutral tone, looking out over the horizon of the dusty city. "...That said, we need a prisoner either way. I doubt killing her will be the most advantageous course of action in any case."

He looked back towards her, and she grunted a little as she stretched out her arms and legs comfortably. The ultra-black fabric of her leotard had a rather generous cutout over her back, which coincidentally helped her take in a greater portion of the sun. She pretended not to notice him looking and smiled knowingly, and he threw her jacket over her head. "Hey—!"

"I swear..." He muttered, fishing out his communicator. "Arwain, Jianno, we've made some progress."

"That's great!" Arwain's enthusiastic reply was, as always, practically instant. "The bureaucracy over here has proven...promising, if tiresome. What have you learned?"

"Our culprit seems to have a name, and some bounties. I'm forwarding the details to you now, although they are somewhat scarce," he said, plugging his communicator into his datapad. "I imagine it will be useful to Jianno, at least." He waited for a moment. "Jianno?"

There was no response.

Arwain sighed. "I wonder if she's faking her death again."

"That's worrying," Nerim frowned. "It's possible she lost her communicator. We shouldn't share any more sensitive information on this encryption code."

"Smart," Arwain said flatly. "I'll have to go now."

Nerim lowered his communicator and Tetha raised her head up. "So what now?" She asked.

He looked down at the city, the various tarps and clay rooftops and crowds milling between them. He shrugged. "I'm getting kinda hungry..."

She chuckled. "Being a little hungry helps you connect with the Force."

Nerim thought back to the several days he spent starving in the caverns of the Revanchist Temple before making a breakthrough. He breathed out through his nose. "Sometimes it seems like the nature of the Force is to be a pain in my ass."
 
Hyenanon said:
Nerim thought back to the several days he spent starving in the caverns of the Revanchist Temple before making a breakthrough. He breathed out through his nose. "Sometimes it seems like the nature of the Force is to be a pain in my ass."
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He's a seriously weird Jedi, but.....

Hyenanon said:
He switched to speaking Mandalorian. "This is gonna sound strange, but I'm an exiled former Jedi who arrested a clanmate once, used her aptitude for hunting Cartels, and I've kind of ended up in her debt and fond of her people. I need the information to stage a breakout."
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Using the truth to get people to work together, beyond what most would even consider possible?

Check!
 
Ah, to see those cute lovebirds again.

Hyenanon said:
and two Bith strummed on strange stringed instruments they rested in their laps, producing an amateur but pleasing melody textured with missed notes and occasional stops and restarts.

...

There was a pregnant silence, and then a short nod. "Okay. 600 wupiupi, when you have the ability to pay," he said amenably.
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During this whole sequence, I had the Mos Eslei cantina song playing in my head.

Hyenanon said:
"Smart," Arwain said flatly. "I'll have to go now."
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I wonder if this means anything in particular.
 
Chapter 57: Spring The Trap New
Chapter 57: Spring The trap​


The streets of Boonta were by far the most chaotic he had ever been on. There was no clear distinction between a street for speeders and a sidewalk for pedestrians, and few aliens bothered to step out of the way of any traffic that didn't look immediately dangerous.

He expected poverty, and there were indeed many on the streets who were impoverished—but the type of poverty he had expected was scrap hoarders, livestock tenders, and so on. That wasn't the case, at least not in this city. Moreso, they simply didn't seem to have any place at all. A few set up stalls, but many seemed to wander almost aimlessly. He supposed the setting was too urban, and the lower rung jobs filled too thoroughly by slaves.

Looking down at the bowl of noodles he had bought, he was fairly certain the discoloration was not due to mold, but rather various plastics that had at some point made their way into the man-sized pot that the Mon Calamari chef seemed to use to cook everything on the menu simultaneously. Nerim frowned at it.

"Told you," Tetha said unapologetically.

"It...It still smells good," Nerim weakly defended the dish, moreso trying to convince himself.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Tetha slowly shook her head.

"...Me too," Nerim admitted with a sigh. Then he blinked in confusion. "Or, wait. Not this. Do you get the sense that—"

His communicator chirped to life. "Good news, student!" Arwain's voice came through. "I've figured out what happened to Jianno!"

"What?!" Nerim frantically fished for the communicator, and pressed the button. "What happened?"

"She was taken captive by the Hutts!" Arwain said cheerfully. As she did so, in the background he could hear a woman's gruff voice shout out in Huttese "Hey, get that thing away from her!"

"Master, how did you figure this out?" Nerim asked calmly, feeling like ice water had just been dumped down the back of his shirt.

"I am also being taken captive by—" Arwain's voice cut off.

Nerim and Tetha sat in silence, staring at each other, as the bowl of noodles steamed in their faces.

He was the first to speak. "Well, now they definitely expect us to stage a rescue attempt."

"What do we do?" Tetha asked.

"Stage a rescue attempt."

Tetha placed her fingers to her temples and rubbed them, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath in through her nose. "Okay," she finally said. "First question is how they even found Jianno and Arwain in the first place. Can they find us the same way?"

He thought for a moment. "If they're actively looking for us, I have a hard time imagining they found my Master and a trained Mandalorian guerrilla, but not us. I imagine Jianno must have gone looking for a fight, and Arwain slipped up in attempting to rescue her."

"This is so embarrassing," Tetha said, pulling her hands down her face. "The agreement was to confront the Dark Jedi first, Hutts second. The Saarkanians are going to get cold feet."

Nerim sighed. "Yeah. Okay, we have to just...fix this before the Saarkanians figure out it's going wrong. We'll have to get Arwain and Jianno out ourselves, and regroup."

Tetha nodded, and stood off the stool. "Let's go."

Nerim grimaced down at his untouched bowl of noodles. "Sooner rather than later," he said, also standing and leaving with her.

"Luckily, the Hutts won't be so hard to find," Tetha said, pointing to the structures on the horizon.

The Hutt Palace on Boonta was enormous, and very distinctive. Rising from the skyline of the cityscape and glinting in the afternoon light, a grand conical structure of glass and mustard-yellow durasteel stood almost like a rounded pyramid. It was a bizarre mix of a cathedral and some sort of snail shell, which a particularly uncharitable psychoanalyst might use to evidence some form of overcompensation for the slug-like Hutts.

Despite being one of the most storied seats of Hutt power, it was a far cry from the claustrophobic, organic architecture Hutts tended to prefer in their current homeworld's environment, or the worlds which they terraformed to match its swampy morass. The Palace of Boonta was all transparasteel and glamour, letting in the full breadth of sunlight across its hallowed halls and party decks. Legend had it that the entire structure could lift from the ground and cruise the deserts like a barge, but hadn't since the times of Boonta The Hutt himself, for various contradictory reasons.

At this particular moment, the Palace was occupied by two Hutts, a father and daughter named Skissa and Yenchara respectively, of the Desilijic clan. According to Arwain, the clan was infamous in Hutt Space for being, in the opinion of other Hutts, a particularly degenerate and perverted clan, as well as impotent and tactless, which explained their consistent exile to just outside of 'proper' Hutt Space. According to Jianno, they were ruthless and violent, had no shortage of bloody disputes with other Hutts, and Skissa in particular was infamous for his use of Mandalorian slaves.

Oddly, though, Desilijic was one of the least xenophobic of the Hutt clans by a wide margin, and it was that quality that probably gave them the lion's share of their negative reputation, both within Hutt Space and outside of it. Most Hutts simply stayed in their throneworlds and blasted any foreign ships that got close, leaving them with little reputation outside their borders beyond mystery and danger. The Desilijics, on the other hand, got quite personal with the outside Galaxy, and cared little what species served them so long as they were served. Because of this, and their penchant for hosting near-endless parties and grand sporting events, Nerim hoped it wouldn't be too hard to worm their way into the building.

When the two exited their rickshaw and approached from across a rocky plaza of uneven bitumen cobblestones, he felt almost worryingly vindicated. The snaking glass tube walkways which served as the entrances to the palace were surrounded with crowds and slowly consuming them, distant specks of sentients making their way through the tubes as if they were being digested by the monstrous building.

Nerim turned to Tetha. "Do you think...we could just walk in?"

"Us? Well..." Tetha shook her head. "Look at what those people are wearing. They look wealthy, most of them. The ones who don't...they look tough."

"Are we not tough?" Nerim asked, his fluffy hair getting in his eyes.

She glanced at him and smiled. "I'm guessing you have to actually be in their employ to get in, and have a good reputation with them at that. But I could get us in. Let's just take a look at the door guards before we try anything."

They cautiously moved forward, staying on the edge of the crowds. Oddly enough, there were two separate entrances to the Palace, one leading to the right and the other to the left. Only the outer layers of the Palace were ensconced in transparasteel, but there was a clear divide in the two halves. More than that, there seemed to be a divide in the people who went through either; every member of the crowd seemed to be rather consciously attempting to go through one particular entrance, even if there was an opening in the line to the other. But beyond that, there was no apparent similarity in the partygoers from one side to the other, as far as he could tell.

Nerim tilted his head. "Do you think that each entrance symbolizes some sort of...allegiance?"

"To one Hutt or the other, maybe," Tetha concurred.

Nerim put a hand to his chin in thought. "Skissa is the one that enslaved the Mandalorians. Look," he said, pointing to the guard at the left entrance, who was clad in a dull and scratched red-and-green suit of armor. "Using a Mando in full beskar as a door guard. What a waste. He has to be doing it as a statement."

"Skissa is probably the one who has Arwain and Jianno. But I don't wanna mess with that guard. Look to the right," she nodded in the direction of the other door guard, a vicious reptilian alien with needle-like teeth and sunken, yellow eyes. "Is that a...Trandoshan?"

"It's a Barabel," Nerim replied. "I recognize them from my historical studies at the Temple. They're a primitive species from out of Republic space that worship Jedi as gods."

Tetha raised an eyebrow. "And the Order's reaction to that information is...?"

Nerim cast his eyes up in recollection. "The Jedi want to be respected, but they worry Knights that spend a lot of time around Barabels might get a big head about the whole thing."

"Great, but what do they think about Barabel society itself?" She insisted.

"Be careful, their hides are blaster resistant," Nerim shrugged.

"Self-centered little..." Tetha sighed and shook her head. "Alright. But they're not resistant to mind tricks?"

Nerim shook his head, and she gestured for him to follow as they shuffled into the crowd, which clinked and bristled with jewelry. They waited for some of the tougher looking ones to go through, and then cut in front of the wealthier ones, to the sound of loud complaining.

The Barabel glared down at the two of them, his lipless mouth crisscrossed with teeth like barbed wire. The fact that there were wealthy patrons directly behind them was probably the only reason he didn't immediately respond with violence. "What, you urchins think you belong here or something? Scram, before—"

"We're going in," Tetha said firmly, her hand raised to him.

The Barabel blinked. "You're...I...You're going in?" He said, clearly unsure of his own words.

"Yes, we are," Tetha replied, with enough force to make the Barabel step aside. The two of them walked in, and then Tetha turned and gave Nerim a small grin of triumph.

"That ability is quite useful, if disturbing," Nerim said uneasily. "But I'm glad we got in here without much trouble. Now we have to make it to Skissa's half, and find where prisoners—did you realize that everyone here is unarmed?"

Tetha looked closely at the other attendants as they walked swiftly through the tube and into a grand entrance area, its large and rounded shape leaving it almost like a crescent. The wall to the right was entirely made of transparasteel, where the low sun shone in with orange-golden light, while the wall to the left was solid and glittered in the light. All of the inhabitants—even the people who were obviously guards, had no obvious weapons.

"...What?" Tetha's eyes narrowed in confusion. "I've never heard of a Hutt without armed guards—"

Her words were suddenly drowned out by cheering, as two grand sliding doors opened from the left wall. Several hulking aliens carried a palanquin on their shoulders, atop which was a Hutt who had her arms up in the air, with a satisfied smirk and rippling yellow eyes that seemed to stare directly through anything she looked at. She was only a little larger than a human, obviously not that old by Hutt standards.

Flanking either side of her palanquin were guards, still curiously unarmed, all female. They wore strange clothes which Nerim realized were somehow similar to the An'omarr Monks, with black and yellow ponchos that hung over their bodies and obscured their silhouettes, but as they moved it was clear they wore tighter outfits underneath which would allow for freedom of movement. It was impossible to tell if they had blaster pistols underneath, but they clearly weren't wearing rifles. They were comprised of two Twi'leks, as well as a Zabrak and a Human, and each scanned the crowd with alertness as they exited.

A scampering Dug scuttled in front and shouted with impressive volume over the crowd. "Presenting the Almighty One, Yenchara Desilijic!" His voice echoed from the walls, to continued and only slightly forced applause.

"Hahaah!" The Hutt laughed and gestured for the cheers to continue. Then she closed her fist in gesture for the cheers to stop, and they did. "Welcome, welcome!" She shouted to the crowd, her voice magnified through speakers on her palanquin. "We are gathered here today in remembrance of Boonta the Great, Boonta the God of protection and swift victory! With Boonta's Eve nearly upon us, we have much to look forward to!"

Tetha leaned in distractingly close to speak quietly in Nerim's ear. "Think we could sneak in through the door they left open?"

Nerim shook his head as the Hutt continued bloviating. "Got a weird feeling about that. Think we sh—" Suddenly he felt electricity run up his spine, and felt a need to move. He grabbed Tetha's hand and began striding forward, and she didn't object, obviously having the same intuition. He turned his head behind himself and saw one of the black-clad guards move through the clearing they had just made, a curious expression on her face.

The Hutt's voice caught his attention again. "But enough of tomorrow! Speak now of the victories of today! I have acquired a most sumptuous prize! See here, what my honor guard have brought me!"

Nerim and Tetha pushed further towards the front, making a concerted effort to duck into areas with taller aliens that might hide them better. Suddenly, as they were close enough to make out what the movement around the Hutt was, they saw what she was referring to.

Two more of the black-clad guards dragged a figure out from behind the palanquin, which Nerim swiftly realized was Arwain, who was frog-marched forward between the two. Her elegant dress was hardly ruffled, and her expression was one of moderate enthusiasm, curiously looking around the room and smiling at the large chandelier above them. All in all, she looked rather unperturbed by her captivity.

"Fantastic," Nerim said, somehow both sarcastically and not at the same time.

"She may not look like much," Yenchara chuckled, "But that is due to the prowess of my Syaniids!"

One of the aliens beside Nerim, a bug-like Verpine, leaned in to speak to another. "Don't you think this is a little unbecoming of her? Who ever heard of a Hutt praising their servants so openly?"

"It's a brag, that she has the 'most powerful' servants around," the other Verpine reasoned. "She's doing it to compete with Skissa's Mandalorians in the public eye."

"I don't know," the first one chittered. "It looks more like they have undue influence on her."

The Hutt continued. "The catch you see before you...is a Jedi Knight!"

One of the black-clad guards, apparently a Syaniid, stepped forward. She raised in her hand Arwain's lightsaber, and activated it, to the sudden gasps, oohs, and aahs of the crowd. Nerim's eyes traveled down from the lightsaber towards the face of the woman holding it, and his eyes widened. Vena Riila was the woman holding it.

The Togruta deactivated the blade, and then handed it to Yenchara, who raised it and activated it with a giddy laugh, waving it in the air and listening to it hum.

Arwain craned her head around and grinned at the Hutt. "Be careful with that thing, I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

"Hah!" Yenchara tilted her head back, impressed with her catch, in the way a fisher would be. "A true Jedi spirit, that's for sure."

Nerim turned to Tetha, her face having adopted her impenetrable neutral expression. "You know," he whispered, "I don't think we properly planned for a scenario in which the Dark Jedi and the Hutts were working together."

"Yeah. No." Tetha shook her head.

He tilted his head. "Still doesn't explain where Jianno is."

"No. Yeah." Tetha nodded.

"You think we get out of this alive if it goes loud?"

"Maybe."
 
Hyenanon said:
Arwain, who was frog-marched forward between the two. Her elegant dress was hardly ruffled, and her expression was one of moderate enthusiasm, curiously looking around the room and smiling at the large chandelier above them. All in all, she looked rather unperturbed by her captivity.

Arwain craned her head around and grinned at the Hutt. "Be careful with that thing, I wouldn't want you to get hurt."
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...
For Nerim and Tetha, it is a perilous plan gone awry. Will they survive intact? How bad might it get?
For Arwain, it is a relatively normal Tuesday afternoon.
 
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