Enjoying The Festivities
An Unpleasant Settlement
Tatooine
The Outer Rim
CaptainCerys Dagen sipped her cold drink and listened to the noise around her. After several days cooped up on the Lancer Patrol Craft she served as pilot of it was good to feel the fresh air on her face, even if it came with a dose of sand. The Miraluka watched the glowing figures of citizens and visitors passing her through her force sight. She could hear her companion making disapproving noises from nearby over the sounds of conversation and engines nearby.
“He is late,” Malisane commented beneath his hood.
“Yes so it seems Warlord,” she replied, not having much else to say.
“I will be pleased when we can return to Aeotheran,” he said coldly, “for a planet that apparently features so prominently in Galactic history, it is a cess pit. I thought Tarthos was unpleasant until I came here.”
Cerys shrugged. “I did suggest an alternate site but our contact refused.” She was about to add more when she felt a vibration at her side and reached down, taking her datapad from her belt. Her figures touched the screen and she concentrated as she read the message. She sighed. “I am afraid I have bad news sir,” she told him, “our contact has been delayed. He anticipates he will be here tomorrow.”
“Unacceptable,” Malisane replied gruffly, “well I am not waiting here. We will return to the Deathshead and wait until he arrives.”
She turned to him. “I have bad news on that as well sir.”
“What?” he asked.
“Due to the championship the spaceport is currently sealed off sir,” she explained, “apparently there was interference with the racing in the past. This is a new rule.”
Malisane looked at her. “They can not be serious. How long does it last?”
She tapped her datapad a few times, and then her fingers brushed against the screen. “It is due to finish in about five hours sir.”
Malisane looked around them in distaste. “So we can either watch five hours of idiots on ludicrously unsafe crafts crashing and burning with inane commentary while the crowd cheer or go “oooooo”, or we can go and find somewhere half decent for a drink until the spaceport opens.”
“Second one sir?”
“Yes.” He paused. “Move out now and be quick about it.”
“Sir?” she asked, slightly offended by his tone.
“Not you,” he looked down as a black astromech droid emerged from under a nearby table, its head rotating left and right, and it made a deep disapproving tone.
“Lead the way Zero,” Malisane ordered.
As it turned out the second option was not as easy as it sounded. The Championship was a popular event, and it had drawn a large crowd and every sort of stall and game had been brought to make money from them. The assassin droid was pushing its way through the packed crowd, making loud noise every time they got too close. Both Malisane and Cerys kept their possessions close to them as they were jostled occasionally, both aware this was a haven for pickpockets. Malisane watched and Cerys sensed the attractions around them, as a wall of noise and smells hit them of games, food and people. Malisane grew impatient and pushed past the droid, heading for a smallish clearing. Then he heard a voice “Hey you in the hood, come over here.”
Malisane's had went down to a concealed pocket in the back of his robes, where his lightsaber was hidden. His gaze turned curiously as he prepared for action. Then he saw a brightly dressed man waving at him.
“Yeah you, come and try your luck, only five credits a go.”
Malisane saw several people surrounding the man looking at him, and after a seconds hesitation walked over.
The man was stood in front of a small table, on which were three upturned cups. He was beaming at the Warlord. “Sir, for just five credits you get a chance to win fifty shiny ones. All you have to do is watch and then guess which cup the balls is under.” He was holding a small golden ball in one hand.
“Very well,” Malisane replied, producing a credit note from a stash he kept for emergencies when he did not want a digital trail.
The man put the note on the table in front of him. “Okay sir, her we go. I put this ball under the middle cup, do you see it there sir?”
“Obviously,” Malisane replied, and heard a slight chuckle from those surrounding him.
“Good sir, you're a natural, now watch closely sir as I cover the ball, and then try and follow it. If your eyes are keen you win the fifty credits.”
The man's hands now began to move quickly, moving the three cups around expertly in an apparently random pattern, and Malisane's blue eyes watched them quietly as others leaned in for a closer look.
Finally the man stopped and stepped back. “Alright sir, I hope you were watching hard. So tell me, where is the ball?”
Malisane looked down for a few seconds, and then his gaze passed up the man's brightly coloured shirt to look him deeply in the eyes. “Your left hand,” he replied in a quiet tone.
The man's face did not flicker. “I beg your pardon sir?”
“The ball,” Malisane said slowly and slightly louder, “is in your left hand.” There was now a murmuring from the crowd, including previous unlucky players, and it was becoming darker.
The man's face remained passive, but now his eyes showed a hint of fear. “I think you are mistaken sir,” he replied, “I'll show you.” His hand moved quickly for the centre cup, and then stopped as Malisane's gaze descended to it. His arm began to shake and the man now showed signs of discomfort, as his arm slowly raised up, and his knuckles turned white as he tried to keep his fist clenched. Finally as sweat broke out on his face his fingers opened to show the ball.
As Malisane stepped back, around him the crowd suddenly stepped forward as one towards the man, who now brought his right hand up and grabbed his cash box. As the crowd continued to move he turned and bolted off into the people behind him.
Malisane watched the pursuit with interest. “Better than pod racing.”
“That was probably unnecessary sir,” Cerys replied.
“I can not stand cheats,” he told her.
She thought for a few seconds. “But if his game had been honest you would have been cheating,” she reasoned, “you're a force user.”
“I could sense his deception before I agreed to play,” he replied, “had I not I would not have bothered.”
“Very well.” she replied.
Malisane looked down. “Zero, find us a cantina. Lead the way.”
They walked a bit further, until Cerys stopped. “One moment Warlord.”
Malisane looked around suspiciously, “What?”
“That knife throwing game.”
“What about it.”
“I wish to take part,” she replied.
Malisane shrugged. “As you wish. I will find a table.”
He continued walking until he found a cantina that was not too busy. He walked inside, Zero following him. He looked around. It was obvious why it was half empty. The atmosphere was dark and oppressing, the patrons skulked over their drinks, casting the odd suspicious look at the door whenever anyone entered before looking back down, and the furniture was old and basic with little comfort. Malisane nodded to himself. This would do nicely. As he approached a bar a Toydarian fluttered over, and hovered in front of the Sith.
“Welcome custome. I am Hogi, you want table and drink?”
“Of course,” Malisane replied, “do you have a problem with the droid?”
The Toydarian looked down at the assassin astromech droid, and then back at Malisane. “Of course not, everybody welcome here, so long as the little fellow buys his round. Hahaha!”
Ignoring the derisive tone from the droid, Malisane nodded. “Good, then I will have a table and bring me something strong.”
“Good!” the owner replied as he flew over to an empty table in one corner, “you come at good time, this is happy hour in Hogi's Bar!”
Malisane looked around once more at the dark cantina with its quiet skulking half sozzled customers. “So I see.”
“One moment and I bring you best drink you have for years.” Hogi flew off towards the bar and Malisane was seated, being careful to face the door and most of the bar.
After a few moments a man approached the table and leaned over the Sith. “Hey do you want..”
“No,” Malisane replied.
“You don't know what I was about to ask,” the man protesest
“The answer is the same.”
“Hey you,” Hogi said as he flew over with a flagon, “I tell you no deathstick selling in my bar, and if you want to use you go outside. You give Hogi's bad name. This is family place.”
The death stick dealer and Malisane both looked around the bar again, and shared a quick puzzled glance, and then the man shrugged and walked away to his table.”
Malisane looked at the small glass that was put in front of him. He picked it up and took a drink of the liquid. As his throat burned and his eyes watered slightly he recognised the drink. “You have Ewok Liquor here?”
“Yeah, is very popular. Label say it is brewed on some remote world by ewoks, from ten types of plants and berries. Of course is nonsense is probably brewed in Coriela factory.”
Malisane knew the planet it was brewed on and the Sith-spawned Ewoks that did the brewing, but he shrugged. “Who knows? Bring me another.”
“Good sir, if you like I keep them coming.”
After a few minutes Cerys entered, her sightless eyes failing to notice the grim atmosphere but her nose wrinkled slightly as she smelt it. She headed over the the Sith's table.
Malisane looked up at her. “I assume you were successful, from the bantha you are carrying.”
Cerys put the toy on the table and sat down. “I came second actually, the first prize was a set of crystal glasses. I was close but lost.”
“Life is full of disappointments Captain.”
“So what is the plan sir? I assume you do not intend to eat here?”
“I am not that hungry. I am prepared to wait until we can get back to the ship.”
The Toydarian appeared with a second drink. “Hey you meet lady friend, I told you is happy hour at Hogi's. Is good for romance!”
Cerys looked up at him coldly. “Just bring me whatever he is having."
Malisane's lip twisted in what could be amusement but he said nothing.