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arcann · 1 month

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Haha I did finish it in time! Happy estar guars day to those who celebrate! 🤪💣💥💀

47. crave

There is nothing fun about planet hunting. Dozens of crews were given vague coordinates and possible sectors where their query could be hiding, and they were all set to figure out where it was. Some would compete and make bets (and, curiously enough, part of them would always land in the Alliance’s pockets, especially if the credits piled up and rivalries began to form). What started as a mission ended in a spectacle. Some of the participants never returned but if the location was found Command didn't complain much.

However, there was no profit if those credits begot grudges and someone began stalking and taking down Alliance ships in the same places they wished to explore.

And so a different kind of hunter was set loose. One that would search for hidden bases and secret refueling stations these dissidents could have set in nondescript planetoids with the objective of unsettling them enough to think twice before continuing.

Or they could outright kill them, take what they had, and let their bases become a dust trail in space.

Both solutions could be justified when the only ones who left those sequestered places were of the same mind.

And so when the need arose once more, plans needed to be made, each more effort and cost efficient than the last. In the beginning six teams were sent, then three, then two, lately only one. Still, the usual commanders needed to be informed.

“And with any luck, team Blue will deal with these laserbrained idiots and we’ll all be together again in less than a fortnight.” Risha Drayen’s voice echoes across the conference hall and people take it as her way to announce the meeting is over. She was known for disliking more formal parting words.

Diokos can easily hide his relief at the news that his team wasn’t chosen this time and approaches Blessaire, the leader of team Blue. She’s already reading the new information that had just been stored in her datapad but stops when she sees him approach.

“I have to bring a squad of no less than ten soldiers with my team, half of each faction, so everyone is pleased.” She sounds relaxed, even if her hand holds the datapad apprehensively. “The only good part is that I get to pick the ship.”

“Ten? I could do it with half that number.”

“Hey, didn’t you hear me? I have to.” Blessaire shrugs, but her mouth turns into a sharp grin. “I could do it all by myself if they’d let me.”

“You’d be fifteen in total.” He lowers his voice to ask. “So who gets to be angry this time around?”

“No one. I have to bring Vaylin. She is a permanent member of my team now.”

“Ah.”

“Yes. Ah.” It’s her turn to mock, now that he started it.

“Stop.”

His weak protest makes her giggle and she returns to her reading.

“It makes these situations easier, for now. At least one person in each of our teams isn’t marked as soundly supporting a side.” She glances at the entrance of the conference room, through where most of the attendants had already left. “That could change soon, but don’t tell anyone I said so.”

“Easier, you say.” Diokos frowns at that, “As if there weren’t plenty of reasons for why those two should stay in a gray area.”

“Just as many reasons to convince them to pick a side.” Her voice takes a more hurried tone. “In the most agreeable terms possible, if it were possible.”

“How could they find it agree–” Diokos starts, but the Battlemaster interrupts him, waving in his direction as she moves to his side. To him, she just walked past his left and then she was out of his sight, as if she had never been here, yet she probably allowed him to notice her as she walked away. To others, she must have disappeared completely, imperceptible to their senses and gone from their memory.

When he turns, he sees why she did that.

Vaylin and Arcann had just entered the room, awkwardly shuffling as the wary glances of those who were left fell on them, then returned to what required their attention. Vaylin’s gaze pierces him for a moment, as if she expected him to act against her, but it ends when she elbows her brother hard enough to make him flinch. With a few glances and nods, their postures change and Vaylin leaves the room in a rush while Arcann looks more secure of himself as he walks towards him.

Every time he looks at them, Diokos wonders what it would be like to share a bond like that from the beginning of his life. Even when everyone hates or fears them, those two could lean on each other and be confident that someone would be there to back them up, no matter how awkward or dangerous things would get. It made him jealous and angry at himself. No sith needed those types of bonds, especially if they required so many open shows of familiarity. But then again, those weren’t the most peculiar actions the siblings had done that shocked the Alliance members.

They used to kneel when they had reached some meters away from Diokos and Blessaire. Vaylin came close to raging in the brief time they reached the floor and some said she would hit her brother later that day, almost violently. Arcann, on the other hand, was clearly beaming behind his mask the first (and only) time they made their reverence in perfect unison.

Nemore’xiel had told him it was the exact same distance Valkorion’s twin sons kept when they knelt in front of him. Diokos didn’t know how the cipher got that information, but if he had a credit for every time he wondered that he would be richer than any planet hunter alive. He knew even less about how he should react to the act. With shame, perhaps? Annoyance would not cover what he felt.

Soon enough though, someone ordered them to stop. Blessaire had told him Vaylin’s mood had improved much after that little ritual was forgotten, so the one who came up with it became more than obvious.

He shouldn’t act too surprised if one of these days, when they were alone in some reconnaissance mission or the aftermath of a battle, Arcann knelt to report for no reason. As if he needed any more proof that Diokos was in fact never possessed by his father, or anyone else for that matter.

He wishes ardently that the fallen emperor wouldn’t do it now. Not after everyone is holding their breath, expecting something bad to happen between them. He wore his armor impeccably, as if he were still ruling the galaxy from his throne. His prosthetic arm had improved even further after he joined the Alliance, modified so the plates were shaped differently, like sharpened yet refined blades to keep others away, a symbol of a warrior going to battle. Diokos heard he had another one, for more casual settings, but there would be no reason for him to see it. Arcann’s mask had stayed the same, repaired to perfection after all the damage it had received when Diokos had defeated him.

The Wrath realizes he is also wearing the armor he used to defeat the emperor all those months ago.

And once Arcann reaches him, he doesn’t kneel.

“I heard there was an opportunity for us to go out this time, my lord.” Arcann says almost melodically, as if he wanted to get on his good graces as fast as possible. “There was, but team Blue was chosen at the last minute.” Diokos answers plainly. “Ah.” Something fades from his voice, as if he was reacting to bad news. “So Vaylin was right to hunt down Battlemaster Thul.”

Hunt down…

“Yes, meanwhile Team Red will have an open schedule for the next two weeks.” Diokos stares at him, waiting for his reaction. “Any thoughts on what to do with that time?”

Arcann scoffs at that.

“Really? They’ll quickly think of a way to send me on a mission to the other side of the galaxy, and they’ll hope it lasts just as long as my sister’s just they can do it again. And again. And again.” Arcann waves his hand distractedly, but he stares at Diokos with much more intensity than he does. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“I wished to know what you preferred. That is all.”

Arcann’s shoulders slump, and yet his only visible eye widens at the offer.

“Very well, if you would intercede for me with Command I would very much like to go to… Nar Shaddaa.”

Diokos makes an inhuman effort to not roll his eyes, but he can’t manage to stop the temperature from dropping a few degrees. The other groups of people look warily at them and some, mostly imperial personnel, immediately take it as their cue to leave.

“I don’t even know why I–”

“If. You. Would. Let. Me. Explain. My lord.” Frustration flares in Arcann’s voice but by the end he is pleading. “During our imprisonment, Vaylin and I had a most unique perspective in some plans of the larger players of the Outer Rim and we wished to see if we could use that information.”

Diokos can tell he practiced this pitch, but he can’t figure out why he’s selling it to him.

“For the benefit of the Alliance, of course.” Arcann adds rapidly, for once letting his eye leave the wrath’s face.

“Of course.” Diokos repeats sardonically. “One thing: you speak of Vaylin. Shouldn’t she be here for this outing of yours? What will she think when she learns you’re planning to do this behind her back?”

He didn’t need to add that last part and the guilt swarms for a moment. Diokos had been told many times to avoid causing a rift between his new allies but his bitterness won at the last moment. He can only feast on Arcann's conflicted feelings while he pauses to think.

“Have they ever let me go on a mission with my sister? You know the answer is no. Now think of how likely it would be if they knew we came up with it together.”

Completely impossible, with good reason.

“Therefore, we decided if one of us saw the opportunity to do it then we should take it, even if alone.”

“She let you tell me?”

“Of course, I trust her and she trusts me.” Diokos decides to pointedly ignore that even if the temperature drops further, uncomfortable even to other force users. By now everyone had already left and it is just a matter of when this encounter would be reported.

“Did you hide this information from Command on purpose?”

“I didn’t hide anything. They know. They have just chosen not to act.” The frustration comes up again. He’s not used to being questioned like this. “I want you to convince them… I need you to convince them.” He corrects, self awareness kicking in.

“Careful, emperor…” Diokos lowers his tone even if it’s not necessary. “Tell me, now, why did you choose me?”

Arcann’s posture shifts, as if he had finally said something right. He approaches him as if he was about to tell him a secret.

“I would choose no one else. You know exactly how we should deal with these people. Only you and I are capable of giving them what they deserve.” The Wrath thinks back to Arcann’s falling flagship, when the haze of combat disappeared and Arcann had fallen to his knees. Everything around them was on fire. He watches Arcann’s eye darken from a pale yellow that could be confused with green until it looks almost red at the borders.

“You and I? Just the two of us?” He sees it now. The fallen emperor wants vengeance. He wants ruin upon the ones that hurt him and his sister, yet Diokos’ brain grips to the same old fear.

Betrayal.

“Yes.”

He gets his answer, thick with a feeling Diokos can’t identify. Anticipation, or awe, maybe. It’s clear Arcann’s mind is far away already, despite the pervasive surroundings the Wrath shaped just for him.

“Now tell me, what will happen when we land into that pit filled with your enemies? What will you do, Arcann?”

“I will protect you, or I will let you take the lead. Whichever you prefer. Other people would just slow us down.” Arcann pauses, his expression unreadable with his mask. It’s similar to how he looked when he had perfected his reverence, but not quite.

And yet, reality soon hits him and his next words sound almost disenchanted. “We will investigate, we’ll find the perpetrators, we’ll get results… We’ll return.”

“You want to return? This is not an attempt to escape then?” Diokos crooks his head, wishing he was discerning enough to understand what else Arcann wanted out of this.

Arcann stares at him, perplexed by his question.

“Escape? From you?”

Without warning his prosthetic arm reaches for Diokos and the sith stops him, fast like a reflex, just a few inches away from his face. That is completely unexpected, enough to leave the Wrath speechless. Another display of power he can’t understand from Arcann. It’s even more confusing when the fallen emperor doesn’t get the message, and he starts to fight Diokos’ telepathy with his own, his left arm insisting on staying on track, as if he craved to touch him.

Diokos doesn't want to crush his prosthesis' fingers, he knows how difficult it is for the former emperor to find repairs. His mind falters and Arcann’s hand gets closer. Everyone has told him so many times to not start fights and here he is, in a room colder than an ice planet, glaring daggers at someone he should fight side by side.

But why is he trying to do this now?

So he stops pushing him away, not knowing what would come next.

Arcann in turn falls back completely, staring at his metallic hand with wonder.

“Unthinkable.”

The sith doesn’t know what to answer to that so he sinks in his shock, waiting for his old enemy to choose when to restart the conversation.

“I apologize, you… I got distracted” Arcann’s eyes are just as dark, even if he seems less tense, decidedly ignoring their confrontation. “I beg that you think of my proposal and tell me your answer some time soon. Thank you for listening to me.”

That last part sounds memorized and practiced, but his voice betrays his words.

He bows slowly and deeply.

“My lord.” And with that he makes his leave.

Diokos glowers as he exits the conference room, not knowing what to think or how to act. He’s stuck in his frustration and his confusion and the walls creak as he lets his discomfort show. He wonders if that’s what it feels to be truly blindsided with the clumsiest provocations.

“What… was that?” A perplexed voice startles him, saying just what he thinks. Blessaire appears right next to him, as if she had never left.

“I… don’t know.” He answers, and he feels like he could blush if he felt healthier.

“Did you finally give him the go?” she murmurs, her voice tinted with something like apprehension.

“I will think about it. There must be something worth looking at if he wants to return to Nar Shaddaa, but I don’t know if I will be capable of noticing it. Or maybe he’s just looking for petty revenge.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean it like–” Her eyes widen and quickly move to a corner of the room, avoiding the sight of him. “Never mind. That could be good. For him.”

“Not so for me.” He sighs. Her gaze returns to his face at the sound of that.

“You’re right. This wouldn’t be good for you, especially if he’s becoming so bold. Keep that in mind.”

She gently lays her hand in his arm and Diokos is shocked by how warm it is. The feeling clashes with the freezing room which he made worse with his temper. He can’t help himself and puts his hand over hers, gripping her as if she could slip away any second.

“But I will not worry, because I trust you.” And with that he lets go of his temper, and allows the warmth to return.

#context: blessaire is my jedi knight and battlemaster #nemore'xiel is my imperial agent #a/rcann and v/aylin spent some time captured by the hutt cartel bc they left s/enya after voss and a/rcann was still fucking beaten up #and well. v/aylin isn't the best caretaker. tee hee #otp: no nature no nurture never again #oc: diokos #written words

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ermakeys · 2 years

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An Essential Aspect Of Gravity Is Not Being Afraid To Fall

This is Chapter 3. Go here for Chapter 1 or go here for Chapter 2.

AO3

Chapter 3: Tatooine

Aran has one more lead on where their grandfather might be. What favors will they have to pay though?

Aran sat in the co-pilot’s seat of their own ship. They kept trying to take deep breaths but their chest felt compressed. The armor that shielded them from the world now felt like it was crushing them. Kit had climbed into the cockpit to press a cool hand to the back of their neck as they struggled to just breathe. Aran was grateful that he didn’t seemed to mind the death grip they had on his wrist.

“Breathe through narrowed lips, Aran,” Chad instructed from the ladder behind them. He sat on the top rung and with a small twist, Aran was able to see him. Chad grinned and started to demonstrate what he meant. Opening his lips in a narrow line and sucking in air through them. “You can do it, bro.”

Aran sucked in a shuddering breath through their lips. It took some time, but slowly Aran felt like they were regaining some control. At the same time they felt their cheeks heat with shame and embarrassment. When had been the last time they had lost control like this? Five years? Seven?

Certainly before they had met Kit, Chad and Purse.

Never in front of anyone since they had left Mandalore.

They slowly pulled Kit’s hand from their neck and stared straight ahead through the transparisteel. The bright lights of hyperspace rushing past flashed by as Purse checked over the controls with a frown. Aran didn’t want to acknowledge any of them. Didn’t want to look at any of them. They were afraid they’d break again.

As it was it felt like they had entered a haze when they’d finally told Kit that their ba’buir was missing. They couldn’t remember going back to the firespray. Only later when Kit and Chad had prodded at them on where to next had Aran been able to slowly snap out of it. They’d choked out the next set of coordinates before the panic had set in.

They wanted to just disappear.

“So, you’ve misplaced your ba’buir,” Purse drawled and then yelped when Chad smacked his arm. “Hey! Careful there, I’m flying this thing!”

Purse ran a hand over the controls with a scowl and grumbled, “Why you’ve never introduced me to this beauty, I’ll never know. Flies like a dream.”

“Bro, could you not for once in your life?”

Aran couldn’t help the way their lips twitched into a hidden smile. They flexed their hands and winced when they felt how cramped their hands were from having them curled into tight fists for so long. Aran sucked in another breath and murmured, “Ba’buir retired on Naalol. It was supposed to be safe.”

“Safe from what?” Chad asked and Aran couldn’t help flinching.

“The Great Clan Wars, the New Mandalorians, the Kyr’tsad. The civil war tore our home apart and left many broken and twisted people behind,” Aran scoffed, shaking their head. “Not to mention other bounty hunters we pissed off when the two of us started taking bounties.”

Aran smoothed their hands over their knees guards and muttered, “Ba’buir started slowing down. He stayed behind on Naalol while I left to hunt. We stayed in touch and I visited when I could.”

The cockpit fell silent. Aran stared out into the streaming lights of hyperspace while their three friends mulled over their words. They felt like they were shaking. Hot and cold at the same time. They didn’t feel anxious about talking with others. Usually though they didn’t talk about themself.

Purse had once said that they only knew three things about Aran and one of those things was that they only knew three things about Aran.

They didn’t know how to be any different. Their past had necessitated keeping everything close. Opening up now with even this little… It made Aran break out into a cold sweat.

“Alright, so we’ll help you find your ba’buir,” Chad declared and Aran couldn’t help but flinch when he broke the silence. He reached up to tap his knuckles against Aran’s helmet and grinned when Aran glanced down at him. “Hey no bro left behind, right? We’ll save the galaxy one bro at a time if we have to.”

No judgment. No suspicion. Just open acceptance. Purse and Kit even voiced their agreement.

Aran felt their form slump a little with relief. They shouldn’t have expected anything else from him, but to have that confirmation, that validation… It made it a little easier to let them in a little more.

Which they would have to, considering where they were going.

They tensed a little again when the computer beeped that they were about to exit hyperspace. Purse quickly focused on flying the ship again and Aran’s hands curled into fists again. A jolt went through the ship as the firespray exited hyperspace to hover over the beige and brown planet in front of them.

“We’ll help you look for your ba’buir, but where are we and where can I put us down?” Purse asked with a raised brow in Aran’s direction. They grimaced, glad their face was hidden behind their visor. They were not looking forward to this next step.

“Welcome to Tatooine,” Aran drawled, reaching for the flight controls. With a few taps, they transferred flight control from Purse’s seat to their own and begun the descent towards the desert planet. “And we’re headed for Jabba’s palace.”

—

Tatooine was hot on a pleasant day and today was not one of them. The twin suns staring down on the planet made even Aran break out in a sweat despite their suit having some temperature control. Even their suit would give out if they stayed in the hellish glare of both suns for too long.

Luckily, they didn’t think they would have to stay out in the suns for too long.

They stepped off of the ramp of the firespray with Purse, Chad and Kit behind them and were met with a pair of Gamoran guards. The one on the left gave a small nod and in their loud speech demanded, “Who comes to the gates of Lord Jabba’s palace?”

Said palace towered above them.

Aran had set their firespray down in front of the hangar doors where guests would usually park their vehicles. The majority were speeders of varying designs and cost with a handful of ships. They tensed when they didn’t see the ship they had hoped to find.

“Beroya Aran Rovhoss,” they answered the Gamoran, tucking their thumbs into their belt with a casual swagger. They felt a flash of pride when they saw the two tense at their words and confident posture. “I seek an audience with Jabba.”

The two Gamorans glanced between each other before one turned away and hurried back into the palace. The remaining Gamoran waved at them to follow and said, “Lord Jabba is very busy, but you are invited to enjoy his hospitality while you wait.”

Aran gave a sharp nod and followed, feeling relieved when they heard their friends following behind. To say they’d been shocked they were going to Jabba’s palace would have been an understatement. They knew they would have to answer questions later. The thought made Aran’s headache throb painfully.

The palace hallways were pleasantly cool in comparison to the heat outside. They were quiet at first with the occasional servant or guard passing, but became louder the closer the Gamoran took you to the throne room. At the entrance of the throne room the Gamoran gestured for Aran to proceed and then walked back they way they had come.

Aran stepped into the throne room with Purse, Chad and Kit close behind. A band played while a few women in revealing outfits danced to the music near the throne. People crowded the edges of the throne room, talking, laughing, drinking and eating. Enjoying Jabba’s hositality.

Jabba who lounged on his throne.

The oversized slug made Aran sneer. Their ba’buir had told them stories of the Hutt warriors of old. The Hutt slugs in modern times were nothing but decadent and slothful creatures. Jabba observed a poor fool before his throne pleading for his life while a slave fanned him and another pretty slave was draped across the throne in front of him.

Aran let their gaze sweep across the room before making their way to a half occupied table. What looked like two Trandoshan smugglers sat there, huddled close and whispering and they paused the conversation when Aran approached with their friends. Aran flicked several credits at them and jerked their helmet to the side in a silent command. One the two Trandoshans understood and happily complied with when they saw the amount of credits Aran had tossed them.

“How do you have immediate access to Jabba’s palace?” Purse hissed through his helmet’s vocoder once the four of them sat down at the table. Purse leaned closer so no one else beyond the table would hear them despite the crowded room. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to even get in this far?”

Aran shrugged and muttered, “Ba’buir and I did a few jobs for Jabba. He was very pleased with our work.”

“You’ve worked for him?” Chad asked with a look around the room. Aran felt their hackles rise defensively and their posture stiffened. The tone had been neutral and curious, but they couldn’t help but listen for judgment.

“When you start at the bottom, you take the jobs you can,” Aran snapped and their hands clenched around their knees tightly. Their headache throbbed and they tried not to wince as the loud music and chatter made it ache. “I didn’t have the luxury of choice. We were lucky that someone recommended us to Jabba.”

Kit leaned forward and Aran saw the wariness in his face despite the hood he had thrown over his head. Hutt space was dangerous enough without advertising that there was a jedi accompanying them. Not to mention two clone troopers. He glanced towards where the man kneeling in front of Jabba was crying and murmured, “How does this help find your grandfather? Would Jabba know?”

Aran shook their head with a scoff and drawled, “No, Ba’buir trusted Jabba as far as he could throw him.”

“Then how-?”

Kit’s question was cut off by the loud and guttural laughter of Jabba. The music continued to play, but the conversations quieted or fell silent entirely as the room turned their attention to Jabba and the fool in front of him. The huge slug shook with his laughter and stroked a hand over the slave in front of him like one would a pet.

“I like you, Pern,” Jabba chuckled in Huttese and Aran felt their skin crawl at his voice. “That is why I will only have one of your hands for taking what is mine.”

The man paled visibly as a pair of guards stepped forward and grabbed him. He screamed as they began to drag him away, pleading for Jabba’s mercy, but the slug’s attention had already turned elsewhere. Jabba was listening to his Twi’lek advisor, whispering something behind his hand.

Aran curled their lip in disgust. Both were disgusting to them. The advisor, Fortuna, was lucky to have Jabba’s protection or they would have hunted them long ago.

Jabba straightened slightly at something Fortuna said and his eyes swept the room. Aran saw their companions twitch out of the corner of their eye when Jabba’s gaze settled on them. Jabba raised his arms with a wide and unnerving smile and in Huttese exclaimed, “Rovhoss! It has been too long since you have visited me. Come, step forward!”

Aran pushed themselves to their feet and stepped forward. Chad, Purse and Kit followed closely and Aran inclined their head to Jabba once they stood in front of him. They ignored the grates under their feet where they knew the rancor rested. They knew with Kit, Chad and Purse behind them that they would be fine, but the screams of those that had fallen below rattled in their head.

“Greetings, lord Jabba,” Aran answered in Huttese and tucked their thumbs into their belt. They could feel the anxious energy tickling under their skin. The room had returned to its previous volume of conversation, but Aran knew they were being watched. Rather than show their hands fiddling or twitching, they kept their thumbs tucked in their belt in a display of confidence.

Behind them, they could hear Kit whispering. Probably translating what he understood for Purse. Aran knew Chad was fluent in Huttese and Kit understood a little, but they didn’t know about Purse.

Jabba chortled and waving a hand, asked, “What brings you to my home? The jobs on Coruscant run dry? I’ve heard many interesting stories from the core world.”

Interesting stories was one way to put the death or a corrupt chancellor revealed as a sith lord.

“My lord, I require the time of one of your hunters,” Aran answered and ground their teeth when Jabba stroked the head of his slave again. “I have questions for my friend, so I can find my mentor.”

Jabba’s eyes widened in open curiosity and he tilted his head.

“You cannot find Rovhoss senior yourself?” Jabba inquired and hummed when Aran gave a shake of their head. He rubbed a hand across the chin before giving a nod. “I will allow it. You remember where his rooms are?”

Aran resisted the urge to sag in relief. Instead, they nodded and then froze when Jabba smiled again. Not the same pleased smile as before. No, this one was predatory.

“I can expect to call on you for a return of this favor at a later date?”

Of course it wouldn’t be for free. Nothing ever was with Jabba. Aran’s temples throbbed and they bared their teeth in a silent snarl as they tried to compose themself. They gave a sharp and Jabba chuckled, “Go on then. I will call on you when I have need of you.”

“Woah, wait, hold on just a second!”

Aran stiffened when Chad spoke up behind them. They glanced back to see Chad step forward with his hands raised and in Standard exclaimed, “You can’t be serious, bro? An unknown favor just to ask a bounty hunter some questions? Bro, you have got to set up some limits to that favor!”

Aran shook their head in annoyance. There was no time. If this would get them access faster then they would do it. They’d already stained their hands in blood before, what was a little more? They opened their mouth to tell Chad to shut up, but their friend had already turned to face an amused looking Jabba.

“Bro, sorry to step in like that, but I’m looking out for my bro here,” Chad said in Huttese and placed a hand on Aran’s shoulder. “A favor like that is such a bad deal for just a few questions. Can’t we work something else out?”

Jabba considered Chad before beginning to chuckle.

“What could a clone of the Republic offer me?” he chortled, his entire form shaking. He pointed down at them with a wicked grin and Aran felt their insides burn with fury. “What could you possibly possess? You are nothing but property of the Senate. Attack dogs of the Republic to terrorize-.”

Aran didn’t even realize they had taken a menacing step forward until Chad had grabbed their arm. The music and conversations had fallen silent. They glared up at Jabba, ignoring all the blasters now pointed in their direction and snarled, “These are my friends.”

Jabba simply laughed and Aran trembled with barely contained anger. They had to keep it in. Stay in control. If they had been here alone it would have been different if Jabba insulted them.

“What if we gave you information on the Pykes?”

Jabba’s attention shifted from Aran and Chad to somewhere behind them. Aran turned in time to see Purse step forward, visor fixed on the disgusting slug. Purse held up a data chip and in Standard said, “I have a record of their most recent activities and transmissions and I think some of them might be interesting to you. The Hutts and Tatooine are mentioned with increasing frequency.”

“Purse,” Aran hissed, reaching out to pull his arm down, but Purse evaded them deftly. It didn’t help that Chad was still holding on to them as all the blasters in the room were still trained on them.

Purse moved closer to the dais where Jabba lounged and drawled, “I think this is a pretty good deal. Free information about your rivals and a gang trying to encroach on your territory. All for a little time with your hunter.”

Jabba hummed, stroking a hand over his chin as he considered Purse’s offer. Finally, he smiled and in Huttese declared, “The Pykes have been increasingly annoying and while they pose no threat to me, having this will be a good way to poke holes in their operations.”

He turned his gaze back to Aran and smirked.

“I would have enjoyed holding a favor over you, Rovhoss. Perhaps next time.”

Aran sneered under their helmet and forced themself to relax as Purse handed the data chip over to Fortuna. They shook off Chad’s hands as Purse stepped back to rejoin them and waving at them Jabba, drawled, “Off you go. It was good to see you again, young Rovhoss.”

Grinding their teeth, Aran gave a curt nod before turning away and stalking towards one of the open doorways. The guests and courtiers shied away from them as they exited the throne room and entered a dimly lit hallway as Chad, Purse and Kit scrambled to follow them. The music and conversations started up again behind them once they had left the throne room behind and Aran curled their hands into fists.

Kriffing Hutts. Wished they’d never had to deal with them again and Aran stopped to calm down a little. They flexed their hands and glaring at Purse and Chad, growled, “You shouldn’t have interfered.”

They heard Purse scoff through their vocoder and he shook his head.

“If you’re so eager to become a lackey of the Hutts, then by all means go ahead,” Purse snapped back, gesturing back towards the throne room. They could still hear the conversations and music echoing down the hallway. “I thought you asked us along to help you and not just stand on the side and look pretty.”

Aran flinched at his words and looked down. They hated feeling like this. They were teetering on the edge with their ba’buir gone and even though they had three hands reaching for them to help… Aran kept swatting them aside and falling closer and closer to the edge.

They took a few deep breaths. Calm. They needed to be calm. Aran closed their eyes and murmured, “You’re right. I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry, can you repeat that again?” Purse asked and held up their arm, ready to record what Aran said. They stared at their friend before smacking their arm back down with a smirk.

“Eat glass, your ass,” Aran shot back, amusement in their voice before they sobered again. “I can’t think straight. He’s gone and I just… I need him back.”

Kit reached out and placed a hand on Aran’s vambrace, giving it a light squeeze as he smiled.

“We’ll find him. That’s what we’re here for.”

Chad bumped his shoulder against Aran’s and exclaimed, “Yeah, bro! You can rely on us. We’ve got your back.”

Aran leaned into Chad’s shoulder and wrapped their fingers around Kit’s for a moment and breathed. They could do this. They had support. Their main pillar was gone, but they weren’t alone. Maybe if they repeated that often enough, they’d finally start believing it.

“Let’s go find that hunter,” Aran muttered as they pulled away from Chad and Kit. They felt heat rising in their cheeks as they thought how much physical contact they’d initiated or received in the last few days. Their ba’buir would tease them relentlessly about it later.

And be so proud at the same time.

They led their friends through the maze of hallways that Jabba’s palace consisted of. Few people passed them as Aran guided them down the more secluded passages. They passed the doors to the hangar bay and Aran felt some tension leave them when they saw the same ship as their own. He was here.

At the top of a flight of stairs, Aran stopped in front of a locked door and rapped their knuckles against it. Their three friends arranged themselves behind them and Chad asked, “So, who is this hunter we’re going to be talking to? Anyone we could know?”

Aran felt their heart drop. Why hadn’t they thought of that beforehand? Oh kark.

Before they had the chance to say anything, the door slid open and a boy stood in front of them. He glared up at the four of them and Aran could feel their three friends tense at the sight. For Chad and Purse it had to be like looking into a reflection of their younger selves.

“Hello Boba,” Aran greeted the boy with a nod. Boba narrowed his eyes at them and they held out their open palms to him to show they weren’t reaching for a weapon. “Can you tell your father that Rovhoss would like to speak with him?”

Boba considered them for a moment before turning halfway and in Mando’a calling, “Father! There’s a hunter called Rovhoss here to talk with you!”

Beyond Boba, an apartment opened up with narrow windows overlooking the Dune Sea. Equipment, weapons, crates and other things lay scattered about and Aran felt themself relax at the sight. The last time they’d been here it had been similar.

They straightened when they heard steps and from a neighboring room, a man stepped into the main living area in the process of removing his helmet. He tucked the helmet under one arm and raised a brow at the sight of Aran. Neither he nor Aran had the chance to say anything though.

“JANGO FETT!?”

“The hunter you wanted to talk to was karking Fett!?”

“What in the name of the force…?”

Aran sighed at the exclamations of their friends behind them and shook their head. They gestured between their friends and Jango and drawled, “Chad, Purse and Kit this is my mentor Jango Fett. Jango, my friends Chad, Purse and Kit.”

Jango smirked at the introduction and stepped closer with a swagger in his step as Boba trotted over to him. Boba took Jango’s helmet as his father chuckled, “Missed me so much you decided to hang around my copies, ad'ika?”

Aran scoffed and stepped into the apartment with their three friends and the door slid shut again. They held out a hand and Jango wrapped his larger hand around his, pulling Aran close. They pressed their foreheads against each other and Aran felt himself relax fully into the touch before slowly withdrawing.

“They’re my friends,” Aran said and watched as Jango’s expression seemed to soften. Jango glanced down at Boba and ruffled a hand through the boy’s hair with a fond smile.

“They’re more than just copies,” he agreed quietly before waving at all of them to follow. Boba vanished into a neighboring room after a nod from his father. Jango sat down at his table with a grunt while Aran and their squad settled around the table with him and he asked, “What prompted this visit, ad'ika? I thought I’d said I wanted to lay low for a while.”

Aran nodded, grimacing under their helmet and muttered, “I know, but-.”

“How the kark are you still alive?” Purse demanded, drowning out Aran. They rolled their eyes as Purse gestured around the table. “What the actual kark? I’d heard you’d been decapitated? How are you even here?”

Jango lounged in his seat with a smirk and Aran just wanted to shake their head.

“I got better.”

Aran raised a hand before Purse could say anything and sighed, “My ba’buir and I helped. Got him to a med tech in time.”

“When was this? Why didn’t you say anything?” Kit asked with a frown and Aran shrugged.

“It was from before I knew all of you. No reason to tell you.”

“No reason to-!”

Chad shushed Purse before his brother could yell anything else and Jango glanced between the four of them. He drummed his fingers against the table top and focusing on Aran again, said, “You really haven’t told your ‘friends’ much about yourself, ad'ika. I thought if you trusted them enough to bring them to me, that they would know more about you.”

Aran felt their cheeks flush with shame and they turned their visor away. Only to look at their friends. Their friends who knew almost nothing about them.

“It’s… hard,” they ground out, slowly returning their gaze to Jango. “You know trust doesn’t come to me easily. By the time I do trust someone… they know enough.”

Jango grunted, rubbing a gloved hand over their covered neck.

“Fair. I’m not one to talk.”

“I came because of ba’buir,” Aran finally explained and Jango’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t get in touch with him. Has he told you anything? Gotten in touch recently?”

Jango scowled and grumbled, “The old fool. I told him to reach out to you when I picked him up. Can’t believe I have to deal with this now.”

Aran jerked at Jango’s words. He knew. He knew something! Before Aran could blurt out anything, Jango declared, “Kaert got in touch with me to ask me for a pick up. He said you were busy making up for my mistake. Karking shabuir.”

A pick up? Too busy to pick him up? Aran felt frozen. Their ba’buir had thought they were too busy to do something for him?

“How was he?”

Aran winced at how raspy their voice sounded. Jango grimaced and muttered, “Old. He was already old when you met him, ad'ika and that was almost twenty years ago.”

They felt a hand squeeze their vambrace. A glance down showed a green hand and Aran slowly pulled their arm free from Kit. They felt like they were falling. Collapsing under the pressure of their armor like a black hole.

“Where did you take him?”

Jango hesitated and Aran knew. They knew before he’d even spoken the words. No. No, not there. Anywhere but that hellhole. Please, please not-.

“Kaert wanted to go home. So I took him back to Mandalore.”

#aran #ct-chad #purse #that random clone #kit fisto #jabba the hutt #jango fett #boba fett #my ocs #friend's ocs #an essential aspect of gravity is not being afraid to fall #the only thing keeping me here is gravity #defying gravity #bro squad #star wars #full name drop: aran rovhoss ✨#also uh oh mandalore

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