Who You Are in the Dark/Part 2

"This is a city?" Narasi asked as Tirien lowered the Second Chance to the docking berth.

"Not every planet is Coruscant," he retorted.

Salik City was certainly a far cry from Coruscant, or even Pandath. On the descent Tirien and Narasi had seen the forests which ringed the city as if resentful of the Human colonists' encroachment on their dominance of the terrain. Tirien hadn't seen any buildings more than three stories tall, and as he landed the Second Chance, it dislodged a flock of indigenous avians with squawks he could hear through the cockpit's canopy.

"Remember…"

"It's not a Republic world, so we can't be Jedi here," Narasi completed. "I know. How do I look?"

Wearing Jedi robes into Sith territory would have been suicide, so Tirien was dressed in nondescript spacer's garb, a pistol on his hip and his curved lightsaber secured in a shoulder holster under his cargo vest. Pantorans were rare off Pantora, just another humanoid species in a galaxy with too many for anyone to remember, but in Sith space there was no disguising a Zygerrian. Instead, Narasi wore a snug-fitting, sleeveless tunic belted around the waist, with gleaming metal bracelets around her forearms. Her belt was loaded with a pistol and two knives Tirien hadn't had time to teach her to use. Without a place to conceal it, she had given him her lightsaber as well, and he wore it under his other shoulder. She had pierced one of her large ears with a silver and blue stud and put a silver cap on one of her vestigial horns for good measure.

"Like a Zygerrian," Tirien appraised. "Like the kind of Zygerrian they'll be used to seeing."

Narasi seemed discomfited by that, and Tirien sighed and put a hand on her shoulder. "We're here for information and a fellow Jedi, not slaves. You are not who your people choose to be just because you look like them, Narasi.  You're playing a part.  But you have to play it convincingly."

Narasi drew a deep breath, then nodded. "Yes Master." As they walked to the boarding ramp, she frowned suddenly. "My accent…"

"What about it?"

"Is it too Coruscanti?" she fretted.

Tirien frowned as they walked into the sunlight; he had gotten so used to the way Narasi sounded that he hadn't even thought about it. Before he could reply, a Human with a datapad and a beleaguered look came up to them.

"Morning," he said, looking once at Narasi and then doing a double-take. Tirien felt a whisper of both dislike and fear in the Force, and the man was suddenly much more alert. "Good morning, ma'am."

To her credit, Narasi kept her face smooth as she purred, "Good morrrrrning."

The dock worker stared, and Tirien cleared his throat to force him to refocus. "Some kind of docking fee?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah.  Navicomp data, registry, you know."

Tirien nodded and handed over his BoSS datapad, letting the man do his work. When it was done, the Human said, "What're you hauling?"

"Nothing in," Tirien said. "Hoping to pick up some cargo to take out."

The Human snorted. "Not likely, friend. Most of the lumber companies have big contracts for that sort of thing."

"We'll try our luck."

"Well, they're your credits to waste," the man shrugged. "Okay, just need your names…"

Tirien waved his hand. "No you don't."

"I don't really need your names," the man mused. "She's good for a week. You'll have to renew after that."

Tirien waited until they were out in a walkway before he muttered, "Your real accent is better."

"But I don't sound like a real Zygerrian!" Narasi hissed.

"Back there you sounded like a stock villain on The Shadows of the Rim," Tirien complained.

Narasi stared at him. "You watch The Shadows of the Rim?"

"It's an example," Tirien snapped. "Use your real accent, the fake one's suspicious."

"What about you?" demanded Narasi.

"What about me? I sound like any other Pantoran."

"You sound like a guy who took up smuggling because he got fired from the Obroa-skai Library!"

"Very funny…"

Most Toprawans seemed to be at work at this time of the morning. The street saw moderate foot and speeder traffic, but it seemed provincial after Coruscant. As Tirien had expected, most people spared him only a glance but shied away from Narasi. There was a bar a block away, and the cluster of life inside suggested it served as a watering hole for spacers flying into Salik City, but Tirien wanted something a little deeper in the natives' circles. After they had walked the better part of an hour and Tirien had long since rolled up his sleeves, he signaled Narasi to wait and finally stepped into a bar.

Every being in sight was Human apart from a Dug playing sabacc in the corner, but most had the look of seasoned drinkers; of the few who glanced up at all, only one gave him more than that single glance. Tirien returned the look, then took a seat at the bar.

"Don't get many Wroonians out here," the bartender mused.

"Pantoran," Tirien corrected in a weary way. "Common mistake."

"Pantoran, Wroonian…" The Human shrugged. "Blue people."

Tirien let it go and ordered a drink. "Were those Sith destroyers I saw on the way down?"

He kept his mind open, but the Force hinted at no special reaction from any of the patrons.

"Yep," the bartender said nonchalantly.

Remembering what Master Arodion had said about the planet changing hands, Tirien effected a sigh. "Empire or Aresh this time?"

"Who knows?" the bartender shrugged.

His manner was easy, but Tirien caught a look from the corner of his eye, and he felt the man's disquiet in the Force. Apparently asking questions about the Sith was a hazardous pastime. As Tirien sipped his drink, wondering whether he should bring the Force to bear to compel a more useful answer, the Human who had met his gaze on the way in sidled up to the bar. Tirien could smell the drink from a meter away, and the Force told him the man's mental processes were zigzagging.

"Another karking alien," he sneered. "Don't you people have your own planets?"

Tirien didn't respond, and the bartender said, "Easy now, Almis."

"Kriff you," Almis retorted, then added loudly, "I tell you what! I tell you, one thing Aresh's got right…aliens know their place when he's in charge…"

The bar's patrons were starting to look up; the Dug shook his head in disgust. Even as Tirien wondered if he could divert Almis, the door opened again and Narasi walked in. This entrance was not as subtle; everyone who looked kept looking, a few nudged their less attentive neighbors, and one slipped out the door behind Narasi's back. Narasi met his gaze for a second, but Tirien warned her with his eyes, and he felt her steel herself. Adopting a disdainful expression, she strode to the bar and took a seat like she owned it. "I'll have a Flameout."

Tirien had to keep himself from staring; there was nothing he could do without blowing their covers, so he stared at his own glass and fumed.

"Uh…you of age, miss?" the bartender asked.

"Are you questioning me?" Narasi demanded. She had moderated her accent a little.

The bartender raised his hands. "I'm just asking…"

"Because I know a few customers who might pay well for a trained bartender," Narasi threatened. "Do you take my meaning?"

The man swallowed. "Yes, uh, ma'am. Flameout."

Not sure whether to be impressed or disturbed, Tirien waited until Narasi had been served, then met the bartender's anxious eyes. "Is there work around here, or are we all waiting until we're out from under the gun?"

"I…" He looked at Narasi sideways, then said, "I'm just here to serve drinks."

There was a look of pleading on his face; Tirien didn't have the heart to compel a response from him. He sat quietly, drinking and playing the bored spacer so his presence would not seem suspicious in retrospect. Narasi was drinking her Flameout far too quickly, and Almis hovered between her and Tirien. Tirien could sense his hostility, but even he was not drunk enough to challenge a Zygerrian.

Narasi snapped her fingers, and the bartender returned to her.

"Wherrre have the Sith made camp?" she asked. Her accent had deepened again, but it sounded more genuine this time. There was a hint of slur to her words.

"I…ma'am, I'm just…"

"I asked you a quessstion!"

"Look, all I know is that they've been doing something with the ruins out east!" the bartender pleaded. "I don't get into their business, I'm just a bartender."

Narasi's lip peeled back, exposing her fangs. Grimacing, Tirien looked down at his drink, but prodded her hard with the Force. Narasi!

He saw her start in his peripheral vision, then refocus on the bartender. Slapping a credit chip on the bartop, she tottered out of the bar. Tirien saw the bartender breathe a sigh of relief, and thought he might have an opening to press for more information. But Almis watched Narasi go, and Tirien sensed the murky haze in his mind coalescing in the direction of intent. He took a step toward the door.

"Almis, don't!" the bartender warned.

"Ain't no karking alien coming onto my planet and treating my friends like that!" Almis insisted.

Tirien knew he couldn't take the man down without having to take out the entire bar, and he gritted his teeth behind his lips. Throwing down the rest of his drink as Almis staggered out the door, bouncing off the frame, Tirien stood and laid his own credits on the bar. He had come with both Imperial and Aresh credits, and decided to chance the Aresh ones. The bartender took them without protest.

"Doesn't look like this is the right place to be a non-Human." Tirien put a touch of frost in his tone.

"Look, I'm sorry about Almis. People are just stressed with…"  He lowered his voice. "…with the Sith. And now Zygerrians too.  Once they find what they're looking for out there, things'll cool down."

Tirien would have pressed him, but he sensed a flash of danger in the Force. Nodding, he strode from the bar. Outside, his ears took over for the Force, because he could hear Almis's voice plainly.

"Nobody talks to my friend that way!" the Human bellowed.

Tirien found him backing Narasi into an alley between the bar and a used droid shop. Reaching into the Force, Tirien felt both their minds blurred by drink. Narasi threw a Force Push at Almis. He staggered, but mercifully didn't seem to find the experience suspicious. He did, however, grab Narasi by the wrist. Tirien closed on them.

"You kriffing little—"

He grabbed her by the neck at the same time Narasi snarled and reached for one of her knives with her free hand. Seizing Almis by the shoulder, Tirien cupped the back of the Human's head with his other hand and flooded the Force into the man's brain, overpowering sensation and knocking him out. He would have lowered Almis's unconscious body to the ground, but he had to drop him so his hands were free to catch Narasi's wrist as she drew her knife.

"Lemme go!"

"Narasi!" Tirien hissed.

"I coulda taken him, Master!"

Tirien took the knife out of her hand and slid it back into its sheath. "Let's go."

He dragged her away by the elbow, but slowed his pace as she started to stumble. "That was some performance."

"Blaaaah." Narasi opened and closed her mouth, sticking out her tongue. "Blaaaaaaah! It's hot!"

"Yes, that's why they call it a Flameout," Tirien said aridly. Pulling her through back alleys and side streets to avoid traffic, he demanded, "What were you thinking?"

"I didn't know it was hot!" Narasi complained; she bumped into him, wrapping an arm around his waist to steady herself. "My dad never said it was hot."

"What?" Tirien asked, startled.

"Yeah, he used to drink 'em all the time," Narasi confided happily. "Aaaaaaall the time. 'Keep the fire burnin', bartender'!  Huh!  I guess he did say it was hot…"

Tirien stopped in an alley, staring. Since their talk on Taanab, they had not spoken much of the past. Narasi beamed at him, apparently unaware she had said anything odd.

"Are we gonna go get 'em, Master?" she asked. "The Sith?"

"We'll need to rent a speeder first," he hedged.

"Then we'll get 'em!" Narasi said, bouncing on the balls of her feet; Tirien had to steady her as she swayed. "Vwoom vwoom, lightsaber!"

Tirien rolled his eyes. "Let's hope it's a long flight."