Chapter Text
Hutt Space
Doran system
Planet Dandoran
Galactic Year: 4005 BBY
Tucked into a small clearing deep in the forests of the planet Dandoran, a garishly colored blue, green, and red Crescent-X9 was shutting down it’s engines and other main systems. The legend of the ship read Iridian Star . Overhead the engines of a pair of Hutt fighters could be heard as they patrolled the surrounding forest from the air. In the common area of the ship the small crew waited in silence, wondering if the patrolling ships would find them. After what seemed like hours, though it could only have been minutes, the sound of the searching ships faded. After a few moments one of the crew started to chuckle, only to be silenced as a cushion was hurled at his head.
“Kriff, Galen, you just had to punch that dug, didn’t you?!” A pale pink skinned Twi’lek shouted, reaching this time for a serving platter as she glared at him.
“Only because of the way he was looking at you.” The black and white dressed human said, tossing the cushion to the side. His purple eyes hardened as he returned the glare with one of his own. “You’re not just something to be gawked at, Aore.”
“You’re right, I’m not. I’m a Shadow of the Jedi Order, just like you are. You know I don’t need you to protect me!” The slender Twi’lek shouted while her lekku twitched irritably, as she gestured with the platter to the four and half foot long, black and white filigreed, phrik-forged lightsaber lance staff that was tucked into the crook of his arm.
“Mom, Dad, please stop fighting.” A cream skinned Zabrak in a tan flight suit muttered sarcastically, as he started walking back to the cockpit of the starship.
“Oh don’t start, Naduru.” A dark skinned woman retorted, causing the Iridian Star ’s owner to turn around, “You’re older than both of them.” She continued, doing her best to ignore the shouting match between the Twi’lek and her human counterpart.
“And yet they’re supposed to be the most emotionally mature people on this ship.” The small high pitched voice of the Iridian Star’s Chadra-Fan mechanic and cook piped up.
“Seems like Bala just sided with me again, Regan! That’s what now, ten credits?” The Zabrak smirked at the crew’s Mandalorian-human medic. Ever since Regan Zec had joined the crew two years ago, alongside the Jedi Shadows Galen Vand and Aore Hsato, she and the zabrak smuggler had maintained a running bet on which of the crew would side with whom during a conversation.
[Fifteen if you count the incident with the sarlacc on Tatooine.] The rapid beeping and whistling of the Iridian Star’s astronavigator, a blue and white painted former Sith Empire T4-series astromech, designated T4-J5, interjected.
“And you’ll have them by the end of the week. Now unless one of you needs me, I’ll be checking on our medical supplies. That dive was too steep for my liking, Naduru, and I’d hate to have lost anything because of your flying.” The Mandalorian said, turning on her heel and heading toward the X9’s medical bay.
“I should probably check on the cargo too, make sure nothing came loose. Not to mention the thrusters they aren’t meant for hard maneuvers like that.” The white furred, batlike, Chadra-Fan said pulling out a data pad as she scurried quickly to the cargo hold, leaving Naduru and J5 with the still arguing Jedi.
Sighing to himself the middle aged pilot decided to step in before the two Force users started flinging more objects around. “Break it up, both of you! Galen, Aore is right, you overstepped your boundaries again. But, Aore, you are supposed to be the more level headed of the two of you, act like it. If you two need to vent some more either do it later or outside, but not on my ship!”
The two Jedi paused mid-sentence, realizing the foolishness of their actions, “Sorry, Naduru. I think we’re good now.” Aore apologized, bowing slightly to the Zabrak.
“You’re right, Naduru. I’m sorry for overreacting, Aore, again.” The human Jedi Shadow apologized, bowing to each of them.
“Right, well, I’m to start powering up Iridian again. We should be fine to head back to the Smuggler’s Basin by now, and we’re going to need to refuel and pick up a few things before we head back out into the vacuum.” The smuggler said, walking to the cockpit with J5 in tow.
A short while later the armed transport was berthed in the docks at the spaceport of the Smuggler’s Basin. Galen was in his room meditating with his back to the door, his lance resting across his lap, when there was a short rap at the door. “It’s open.” He called out.
Aore stepped into the relatively spartan quarters, followed by a small fox-like, crystalline furred, vulptex. The door sealed once more with a faint hiss as the brown and grey dressed Jedi knelt behind him, her back pressing lightly against his.
“Naduru thinks we can be off again within the hour.” The blue eyed Twi’lek informed him. “Do you want to tell me what’s been eating at you? You weren’t like this before, Galen, you’ve changed ever since Asori went missing.”
The former Jedi Temple Guard didn’t move, save for his hands. One went to the hilt of his saber and the other clutched the wooden pendant hanging from his neck from a purple cord. It had been carved from the wood of a tree only found on Ryloth, and given to him by one of his closest friends. One side was carved into the image of tri-looped lemniscate, the other bore a stylized image of a cat-like Nexu from the forest planet of Cholganna. Aore wore the second of a matched trio. “It’s been two years. Two years and I still can’t sense her anywhere, Aore.”
“Galen…” She started, before he cut her off. His eyes still closed, tears of frustration trickling their way down his cheeks. The vulptex whimpered a little at the words, curling up as tight as she could against the two Jedi.
“I was training as a Temple Guard, before I was a Shadow… I was sworn to protect the knowledge of the Jedi Archives on Tython and those Jedi who use that knowledge.” His hand tightened around the hilt of his exotic lightsaber. “But I can’t kriffing find her and that is what’s eating at me.”
Most Jedi used single bladed or dual bladed sabers, but many of the Jedi Sentinels in the Order, specifically the Temple Guard, chose to wield the more exotic lightsaber pikes or lances. Galen had recrafted the casing of his lightsaber lance hilt from gold and white, to white and black after joining the Jedi Shadows, as well as switching the synthetic yellow crystals with a pair of yellow Kunda Stones which made both of the deadly, fifteen inch, golden blades that would emit from either end of the hilt, broader than a normal lightsaber blade. His fighting style with the fourth lightsaber form, Ataru, closely resembled that of a Jedi using a shorter-hilted dual bladed saber, only his attacks were much heavier. And with the broader blades, and phrik-alloy forged into his weapon, his defense was almost unbreakable by lightsaber and formidable against blaster fire.
“Look at me, brothah.” The rosy skinned Twi’lek requested, turning to face his back, and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. When he finally did as she asked, Aore continued. “We will find her. Whether she is alive or dead, one way or another we will find our sistah.”
Galen could see his pendant’s match dangling from around the blue eyed Twi’lek’s neck on a green cord, “I know I’ve been overprotective these last few years, but it’s because Asori being missing is already too much. I’m sorry, Aore, but I just can’t lose you too, sistah.”
“And you won’t. The Force knows I’ll put down any dark side user or other scum that tries to make me leave.” She said, pulling him into a comforting embrace, as he finally let his remaining tears flow.
It was two years ago that the Twi’lek Jedi Knight, Asori Tal, had gone missing. She was presumed dead after the planet she had been stationed on had been attacked and annexed by, what appeared to be, forces from a relatively small splinter of the Sith Empire located in part of the south eastern outer-mid rim of the galaxy, and governed by a Zabrak known as Darth Valia. However, as the planet was not a strategic one for the Republic, and with the Jedi not wishing to dissolve the tentative peace between the Republic and the Sith Empire into a war, no steps were taken against the forced annexation. The inaction of the Jedi Council and the Republic lead both Aore and Galen to find answers on their own, even going so far as severing almost all contact with the Jedi Order, save for Masters Jallis Rayn, Rias Falch, and Phar Macy of the Jedi High Council and the Council of First Knowledge. The pair of Shadow’s had sworn when they had learned of the attack to find out what had happened to their friend. Every free moment they had while not hunting down rumours of Sith Artifacts, without incurring the wrath of the Sith Empire as whole, was spent looking into rumours of Asori Tal’s fate. They were not the only ones to search for her, Asori’s former mentor Jedi Master Erron Shorv, and seven other Jedi had followed, in secret, rumors of the missing Jedi’s trail but they never returned from their search. Neither the Jedi High Council or the two Jedi Shadows had been told where the eight Jedi had gone to search.
Iridian Star’s Cockpit
[Two years, today makes two years, Naduru.] J5 chirped, as he input the coordinates for their jump.
“Kark...guess that’s one reason why Galen lost it.” The Zabrak sighed as he started warming up the engines. “What do you say to a little detour after we find whatever they’ve sensed on Rodia?”
[I hear it’s just turning to fall in Naboo. Think they’d be ok with a short vacation?] The astromech beeped rapidly, almost as if chuckling.
“Well if either of them has any objections they can take them up with me after we arrive. Besides I’m sure Bala and Regan would agree we all could use a break. How long will it take us to get to the Tyrius system?” Naduru asked as he felt the Iridian move beneath him and out of the docks.
[About ten days. Depending on if we don’t need to stop too often to realign the navigation instruments. Rodia to Naboo would be seven days, six if we felt like being risky.] The astromech replied, pulling his interface connector from the navigation console. [Still need me up here? Gala should be about done with tying down the cargo and we’re gonna need to start prepping for lunch.]
“Should be good, I’ll put us on autopilot once we jump.” The Zabrak pilot said, pulling the ship into a shallow climb.
[Good, good.] J5 paused at the door, spinning his head to look at his friend, [By the way, you stuck with just...legal goods right?]
“Sure I did, legal good, yes.” The pale skinned Zabrak replied, pointedly trying to keep his eyes on his controls.
J5 made a sound that could only have been described as a sigh, [Tell me it wasn’t anything lethal.]
“Only one case of Glitterstim.” Naduru admitted, giving the droid a sidelong glance.
[Do the other’s know?] Came the critically beeped question.
The smuggler's lips curled into a slight smirk as he chuckled, “I’d bet a hundred credits that Galen and Aore know I brought something on board.”
Truthfully the Jedi Shadows didn’t care too much what the Zabrak did on the side while they searched the galaxy for pockets of the dark side. It wasn’t in their nature to change Naduru and for the most part when he was smuggling goods it was for a good reason. And the illicit dealings did help keep credits around so that the crew could put food on the table.
J5 wheeled back over to the pilot as he beeped another question, [Want me to tell Galen and Aore for you, since I assume you’ll be selling it when we get to Rodia?]
He shook his head at the droid’s assumption as he replied, “Not selling it this time, just bringing it to a clinic in the capitol. The delivery convoy was worried about pirates in the area so I told them I’d take on the trip for them. It’s in the smugglers hatch in the medbay if you’re curious. Hiding it makes it easier to protect if we do run into trouble.” While placing the drugs in a smuggler’s hatch did make it harder for someone to pick up on scans, just because a pirate couldn’t pick up what you were carrying didn’t mean they wouldn’t pick a fight. The Iridian Star was armed to the teeth with four laser cannons, a large pulse cannon and pair of concussion missile launchers for just such an inevitably.
“But if you wouldn’t mind telling them I’d appreciate it, last time I told them I couriered something I thought Galen was going to melt my brain.” Naduru requested, recalling when the human Shadow had found eight cases of Sansanna spice.
[G-Galen can’t do that...pretty sure Aore couldn’t either!] J5 beeped incredulously, his head spinning as if he’d interfaced with an overloaded terminal. [I mean they could probably stop your hearts, but I don’t think they’d do it over delivering Glitterstim, I know it’s not exactly considered ethical for treatment by some people but it does help sentients who are recovering from brain trauma.]
“True, J5. Hhmmm, you should probably start toward the galley, Bala said she was going to make a traditional Chadra-fan lunch.” The Zabrak suggested, jerking a thumb toward the door of the cockpit.
[Oh no….] The blue and white astromech whirred before racing for the door. He bumped his head against the hard metal with a loud clang as he reached it before it had opened fully. Beeping expletives J5 raced through the common area of the ship toward the small galley.
Reclining in the common area Regan was watching an old holo-recording she’d taken during her early years on Mandalore. The images of old comrades flashed before her eyes, only to fade away on faint motes of light. Those days were simpler alright. But I have to say I made the right call joining up, The Mandalorian-human’s thoughts were interrupted as J5 wheeled passed where she was sitting, beeping expletives like a drunken crusader telling war stories at a canteen. Elek a jate Jor'chaajir bal'ban. Even meh ner crew mates cuyir gedin'la.
Getting up from her comfortable position the Iridian’s medic followed the beeping and loud clatter of cookware to the galley. Looking inside she could see the ship’s astronavigator doing his best to make sure Bala wasn’t going to poison them all with her cooking. That wasn’t to say the Iridian’s mechanic was a bad cook, everyone enjoyed what she made for them, it was that she’d given them food poisoning one time too many. The Chadra-fan had certainly improved her culinary technique since then, but J5 stubbornly insisted on being in the galley whenever the white furred mechanic and cook was making a meal.
“J5 give me the oamn vegetable! I can’t make lunch without it!” She demanded, waving a spatula while chasing the droid around the small area.
[Not till I’ve scanned it, Bala! You know what happened last time I didn’t double check your ingredients!] He replied shrilly, ducking a wild swing from her impromptu weapon. The vegetable was clenched tightly in his single, retractable, manipulative appendage.
Regan cleared her throat to get the pair’s attention, “Do I need to step in or can the two of you handle making a simple meal?”
“Only if you can convince the larder’s watch dog here to give me that kriffing vegetable!” The irate cook replied, lunging for the ingredient.
J5 pulled it quickly into his chassis, with a beeping chuckle as his systems started to scan it. [I said you could have it after I’d scanned it.] After a few seconds the astromech released the vegetable from his grasp.
“Thanks. Now can I please finish making lunch?” She asked turning to the prep table and started dicing up the vegetable. “I need to finish before we jump to hyperspace, otherwise I’m going to have to wait an hour or we’ll all get sick.”
[Of course, Bala. If you need anymore help I’ll be with Galen and Aore going over the data in my banks on Rodia.] The droid chirped. Wheeling up to Regan he beeped as the door sealed closed. [Regan, if you wouldn’t mind coming with me? I think Galen might need to blow off steam.]
The Mandalorian knew what he was asking, “Let me get my beskad.” As she walked into the medical bay and picked up the weapon, a sword coated in a lightsaber resistant material known as beskar, she asked. “Today’s the day isn’t it?”
[Yeah.] He beeped in affirmation.
“Understood.” Regan nodded as she followed him toward the Shadow’s quarters.
Galen blocked the vicious swing that Regan aimed at his leg with his lance, sparks and motes of light filled the area of the cargo hold as the blades clashed. The Jedi knocked aside her sword and spun his lance in his hands, building momentum. The twin plasma blades of his weapon carved shallow grooves in the deckplate, until he brought one end of his weapon down in a powerful swing for her left shoulder. Regan brought her beskad up and caught the attack, her free hand pressed along the spine of her sword forcing the lightsaber lance away from her shoulder and into a bladelock.
“Lot on your mind, vod?” The Mandalorian asked, twisting her blade free of Galen’s weapon and backing away, still crouched defensively.
The purple eyed Shadow crossed his lightsaber lance in front of himself in a near perfect stance that would let him switch from defense to offense almost instantaneously. “A lot my pateessa. I still can’t feel her anywhere.”
The medic noted the flaw quickly, and lunged as she spoke trying to find a reason for her friend’s dilemma, her beskad aimed for his chest. “Doesn’t mean anything. She could just be hiding, after all can’t Jedi hide their Force signature?”
Galen saw the attack coming and spun his lance parallel with his torso knocking the Mandalorian’s blade aside, though it did cut through his tunic leaving a shallow cut on his side just above his left hip. He winced as he thrust his hand out, he could feel the Force flowing through him like a river, as it always did, and knocked Regan back a few paces as he spoke, “Yes, we can. But for two years, she’d have to have sealed herself off from the Force entirely, or have someone very skilled hide her.”
Regaining her balance the medic sheathed her beskad signaling an end to the match. “What if she were dead?” She asked as she walked over to him and rolled up his tunic to examine the cut she had given him.
The Jedi shook his head as he sat on a crate while Regan looked him over, placing the staff of his lance between his legs as an old man would a cane. “I know what you’re asking, if that were the case Aore and I would both have felt her passing.”
The crew of the Iridian had reserved this section of the cargo hold for the sparring matches between the two Jedi and the Mandalorian. Galen and Regan had been engrossed in their match for the last two hours, Aore and J5 were nearby still pouring over the astromech’s data on Rodia.
“Well then, if she’s alive you’ll find her.” Pulling out a small suturing kit Regan started to close the wound as she spoke. “You need to get back to sharpening your footwork, it’s the only reason I was able to give you this cut.”
“Easier said than done, you know I can’t fully utilize Ataru in here. Well, not if I wanted to keep my blades ignited.” He replied, wincing as she started suturing the cut closed.
“Wouldn’t be as much fun if you only attacked me with your staff.” The woman chuckled, covering the sutures with a light bandage and rolling his tunic back down. “There that should do it.”
“Agreed.” The black and white dressed Jedi said, before looking over at Aore and J5. He could see their crystalline furred vulptex, Nebula, curled in the Twi’lek’s lap her gold eyes watching the data pad in the pink skinned woman’s hand. Aore, Galen, and their missing friend Asori had found her as a kit on the salt covered planet of Crate in the outer-rim during their Padawan training. She’d been with them ever since, and had proven smarter than most non-sentient beings they’d encountered over the years. “Dig up anything you two?” He asked from his position on the cargo crate.
“Compared to J5’s memory banks and the current galaxy data banks not much has changed.” Aore replied, “Slight uptick in vorkino pirates though.” She spat the expletive.
[They should not be much of a problem though. And we do have about a week and half of travel time before we even reach pirate territory.] J5 hummed thoughtfully as he continued to browse the data. [Want me to see if I can find the current local fashions? I know you’d both like to stay hidden.]
“Thanks J5, it’ll make talking to the locals easier if we don’t look like off-worlders.”
“Just as long as you don’t try the influential bureaucrat role again we should be fine, Nerra .” Aore chuckled, her lekku twitching ever so slightly.
“It’s not my fault that Ortolan couldn’t remember the difference between an Ewok and a Jawa.” Galen muttered, idly spinning his staff in his hands.
J5 chirped, his eye-like camera turning ever so slightly in the Jedi’s direction. [You didn’t have to insult him though.]
The brown haired man’s lips curled into a small smirk at the memory. “Maybe, but at least he now knows the difference.”
“Only after you compared his trunk to a rancor’s genitals,” Regan interjected, arching an eyebrow at her sparring partner.
“I reserve my right not to comment further on the matter,” he replied with a smirk, tucking his staff under his arm and joining the other Jedi and the astromech in going over the data on Rodia.
A little over a week and half later the Iridian Star dropped out of hyperspace with a bright flash of light. Spinning slowly beneath the armed transport was the deep green jewel of the Tyrius system, Rodia. The home of many smugglers, pirates, bounty hunters and others of similar ilk. A home away from home for the small crew and after a slightly longer than planned jump due to navigation issues they were ready to disembark.
Hutteese:
Sistah - Sister
Brothah - Brother
Kriff - Fuck
Kark - Shit
Oamn - Damn
Pateessa - Friend
Mando'a:
Elek a jate Jor'chaajir bal'ban. Even meh ner crew mates cuyir gedin'la. - Right call indeed. Even if my crew mates are a little eccentric.
Vod - Comrade/Friend/Ally, etc.
Ryl:
Vorkino - Damn
Nerra - Brother