Tinnel IV
Daytime, mid-morning
Daytime, mid-morning
He'd done it. He didn't exactly ask his Master for permission to leave like he'd originally intended, but Arctus's little trip felt somewhat justified given that this particular task was long written on his priority-slash-bucket list before he'd even joined the Jedi Order. Even then, his Master had been too preoccupied after recent events (aka the Dantooine Tragedy) and while he should feel sympathetic all the former smuggler felt was...
He really didn't know. Frustration was one thing, but like he'd told Clove and Ruzaan he didn't much care for Hannibal Grayza and who the late Master might have been. For one, Arctus knew jack about the dead guy. And second, the Padawan felt as if the man's death only served to steal Indy further from Arctus and his Padawan brothers.
Ah, shit. Green didn't suit him, so where was all the jealousy coming from? Arctus had told Indy that he understood her grief when she lost Rook and Tionson. Told her that he understood her desire to finish his, Drastus, and Felix' training, even agreeing at the timeframe she'd given. Arctus understood that she had her own duties in the Order that she needed upholding, but her promise not just to him but also to Drastus and Felix now felt cracked. Broken. He didn't want to blame her.
He didn't want to blame her.
The former smuggler shook all his Jedi troubles for the time being, not wanting to look like a troubled little shit before meeting the one person who was the sole reason for him even visiting Tinnel IV at all. Again, the Padawan sent a silent thanks to Rich Magnum wherever the bastard was. As much as Arctus didn't want any creepy scum fantasizing about his lady Mando after watching that sleazy tabloid featuring the Galaxy's "foxiest felines", he wouldn't be able to know where she currently was if it weren't for Magnum's show.
Still, he felt gross upon expressing gratitude towards the journalist – if he could even call Magnum that. If Magnum and Hanivel ever paired up for a tabloid or a holonet broadcast, Arctus would definitely watch whatever hell-show those two would come up with. He could do with losing a few inactive brain cells every now and again.
The planet's senate building loomed just a few meters away now, and Arctus paused as he took in the sight of the imposing building. He wasn't dressed in anything that overtly screamed Jedi, though the Padawan braid he'd fashioned from grey and blue yarn was wound snugly around his left wrist. The thing was easy to mistake for a mere trinket, and he hoped that the Governor was busy in his office or something. The former smuggler knew that Secretary Carrick of the ISC's Defense Department was a Force-sensitive, and the man wasn't even hiding the fact that he was an ex-Jedi. Out of everyone in that senate building, the guy could definitely recognize the old-fashioned braid.
As luck and intent would have it, Arctus wasn't here for the politician. Rather, he was here for the man's chief of security. The Mando who had saved his life on Tatooine.
One hand lifted up to rest over the breast pocket of his jacket where a neatly folded piece of paper was tucked inside for safekeeping.
Stay alive.
Those two words had sustained Arctus for quite a long while. He'd held onto it after Malastare. He'd held onto it after that fateful meeting with Coven. Arctus held on to the words written on paper during his search for a Jedi who would be willing to teach him about the Force. He'd held onto Mando's disappointment when she learned that he was a spice addict, and along with the precious two words she'd left him Arctus drilled them in his mind whevener he felt the familiar itch of his former addiction creeping up to seduce him.
His savior was so close. All he needed to do was to approach and enter the senate building, ask politely for the ISC Secretary of Defense's chief of security, and even make an appointment for a meeting if it would be asked of him. Three easy steps, really, except Arctus felt backing out at the last minute, suddenly overwhelmed by the fact that he would finally be able to see her again years after she'd saved his life.
Ah, shit, thought the Padawan, awkwardly shuffling where he stood on the other side of the street. He'd been standing here for half an hour now, staring at the senate building. All he needed to do was to cross it, then into the building he'd go. He was only carrying a single blaster, and he would gladly leave it with security upon entry. If he was lucky his Mando would be in the senate building and if she wasn't then he could always return for another meeting.
Don't fucking get cold feet now, bastard.
You've wanted this for a long while now, yeah?
So don't be a kriffing coward and man up.
Wait. Should I get her flowers or something? Ah, shit, no, man, this isn't a date you creep! But would she like some flowers, though?
"Mon Dieu, you're a loud one, aren't ya?" an amused, accented voice piped up behind the anxious Padawan. An arm slung around Arctus shoulder, and a quick look revealed a tall Morellian who shot the former smuggler a lazy grin. One green eye scanned the Padawan from head to foot in one, quick glance. "Don't get much of a control over the Force, young man? I'd wager you don't."
Before Arctus could even get a word in he felt something being pressed to his side.
"Seen you hanging around and just staring at the senate building," the Morellian continued in a friendly tone, though the former smuggler didn't miss the subtle suspicion that glinted in the other man's eye, nor the very obvious dig of the point of a knife to his side. "If you have business inside, ami, then I'd gladly escort you!"
Arctus had been the recepient of veiled threats for the majority of his life. He knew his strengths and limitations, and right now he was confident that he could take on an unaligned Force-user (if the Morellian's comments were to go by) even if the latter was practically close to literally sticking a knife between the former smuggler's ribs.
"I'll wager I do, though," he replied, just as friendly. Grinning at the Morellian, Arctus shrugged. "What's it gonna be, mate? You mugging me or something?"
"Absolument non!" said the man rather cheerfully, chuckling at the lack of comprehension on the Padawan's face.
The arm around Arctus's shoulders felt a little heavier now as he let the Morellian walk him across the street and towards the senate building. To his mild surprise the mystery man did escort him inside the building, waving away one security personnel who approached the pair and was glaring at Arctus with suspicion. The Padawan simply went with the flow, aware that he simply couldn't act aggressively, not now. Not inside a building full of civvies and armed guards. The Morellian, on the other hand, greeted workers and other security personnel with utter familiarity, and Arctus didn't need a big neon sign nor a uniform and ID pointing out that the red-haired guy actually worked here. Security, too, most likely. What rank, though?
The Padawan was led away from the atrium, then towards a lift. Up the odd pair went, with the Morellian whistling a jaunty tune while Arctus wondered just what crime he might have committed. Hells, it was because he'd been hovering around and just staring at the senate building while he gathered the courage to approach, wasn't it? Because, he now realized, that that was pretty suspicious of him. If the Morellian was indeed security then he must've thought that Arctus was some kind of a trouble maker. Fucking hell, hadn't Arctus read on a news article that an assassination had been attempted on the Senator (well, Governor now for quite a while) whose life was saved by the very same lady Mando who helped Arctus on Tatooine?
Across the halls the pair walked, the silence only broken by the Morellian's continued whistling. At least the man had found it prudent to let Arctus go now, but the knife was being twirled playfully between gloved fingers. The Padawan was also familiar with the current threat to his person on full display – while Arctus himself hadn't been disarmed the Morellian now had the advantage for at each end of the hall stood another pair of security personnel, one a green-skinned jovial Nautolan and the other a bored-looking human male. Both were eyeing Arctus with varying levels of curiosity and suspicion. Security cams watched him as well. Gods, he didn't need to create needless trouble for the Jedi Order. This was exactly why he didn't wear anything that would tie him to the Order – well, except for the Padawan braid around his wrist that looked more like a bracelet, really.
Karking hells, thought the Padawan, this time mindful to carefully obscure his thoughts using the Force. I just want to see my savior. Is that too much to ask?
Before they reached the end of the hall, the Morellian stopped by an inconspicuous door and gave it three, quick raps before using a card key to open it. Once again the man slung an arm around Arctus, steering the Padawan inside though this time the knife didn't make a reappearance.
"Bosswoman! Found a pretty sus guy hanging around outside the building–"
The Morellian's voice was drowned out by the rush of a very familiar presence through the Force. Arctus was brought back to the memory of that night on Tatooine, lying bleeding on the sand and his assailants being felled one by one by a sniper bolt. A feeling of imminent danger, though it wasn't aimed at him.
Never at him.
Kind, it said. Safe. Nothing but good intentions. Hands that killed, yes... but now they exist to save you. You're safe, Arctus.
Words spoken to him by the Force he had once passed off as sharp intuition, describing the woman who had saved his life. Words being spoken to him now, as a figure clad in the familiar grey beskar and durasteel emerged from an adjacent room, T-visor settling on Arctus who just stood there frozen, hazel grey eyes locked where her eyes would be beneath the cover of her helm. He could feel her staring, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to shove the Morellian aside so he could rush to her and... and what?
He'd changed, and so did she – though to him she was still the same, kind Mando who made sure that he would live despite the beatings and injuries he'd received. His angel clad in beskar. Did she remember him? Would she still remember him? Would his savior–
"Oh, shoot...!" exclaimed the same, soft voice that had etched itself permanently in the former smuggler's mind. Arctus's heart never ceased it's pounding and instead hammered harder against his sternum at Mando's next words.
"Holy shit, I know you. I know you, but whoah, you've... you've changed! Arctus! Do you remember me?"
He really didn't know. Frustration was one thing, but like he'd told Clove and Ruzaan he didn't much care for Hannibal Grayza and who the late Master might have been. For one, Arctus knew jack about the dead guy. And second, the Padawan felt as if the man's death only served to steal Indy further from Arctus and his Padawan brothers.
Ah, shit. Green didn't suit him, so where was all the jealousy coming from? Arctus had told Indy that he understood her grief when she lost Rook and Tionson. Told her that he understood her desire to finish his, Drastus, and Felix' training, even agreeing at the timeframe she'd given. Arctus understood that she had her own duties in the Order that she needed upholding, but her promise not just to him but also to Drastus and Felix now felt cracked. Broken. He didn't want to blame her.
He didn't want to blame her.
The former smuggler shook all his Jedi troubles for the time being, not wanting to look like a troubled little shit before meeting the one person who was the sole reason for him even visiting Tinnel IV at all. Again, the Padawan sent a silent thanks to Rich Magnum wherever the bastard was. As much as Arctus didn't want any creepy scum fantasizing about his lady Mando after watching that sleazy tabloid featuring the Galaxy's "foxiest felines", he wouldn't be able to know where she currently was if it weren't for Magnum's show.
Still, he felt gross upon expressing gratitude towards the journalist – if he could even call Magnum that. If Magnum and Hanivel ever paired up for a tabloid or a holonet broadcast, Arctus would definitely watch whatever hell-show those two would come up with. He could do with losing a few inactive brain cells every now and again.
The planet's senate building loomed just a few meters away now, and Arctus paused as he took in the sight of the imposing building. He wasn't dressed in anything that overtly screamed Jedi, though the Padawan braid he'd fashioned from grey and blue yarn was wound snugly around his left wrist. The thing was easy to mistake for a mere trinket, and he hoped that the Governor was busy in his office or something. The former smuggler knew that Secretary Carrick of the ISC's Defense Department was a Force-sensitive, and the man wasn't even hiding the fact that he was an ex-Jedi. Out of everyone in that senate building, the guy could definitely recognize the old-fashioned braid.
As luck and intent would have it, Arctus wasn't here for the politician. Rather, he was here for the man's chief of security. The Mando who had saved his life on Tatooine.
One hand lifted up to rest over the breast pocket of his jacket where a neatly folded piece of paper was tucked inside for safekeeping.
Stay alive.
Those two words had sustained Arctus for quite a long while. He'd held onto it after Malastare. He'd held onto it after that fateful meeting with Coven. Arctus held on to the words written on paper during his search for a Jedi who would be willing to teach him about the Force. He'd held onto Mando's disappointment when she learned that he was a spice addict, and along with the precious two words she'd left him Arctus drilled them in his mind whevener he felt the familiar itch of his former addiction creeping up to seduce him.
His savior was so close. All he needed to do was to approach and enter the senate building, ask politely for the ISC Secretary of Defense's chief of security, and even make an appointment for a meeting if it would be asked of him. Three easy steps, really, except Arctus felt backing out at the last minute, suddenly overwhelmed by the fact that he would finally be able to see her again years after she'd saved his life.
Ah, shit, thought the Padawan, awkwardly shuffling where he stood on the other side of the street. He'd been standing here for half an hour now, staring at the senate building. All he needed to do was to cross it, then into the building he'd go. He was only carrying a single blaster, and he would gladly leave it with security upon entry. If he was lucky his Mando would be in the senate building and if she wasn't then he could always return for another meeting.
Don't fucking get cold feet now, bastard.
You've wanted this for a long while now, yeah?
So don't be a kriffing coward and man up.
Wait. Should I get her flowers or something? Ah, shit, no, man, this isn't a date you creep! But would she like some flowers, though?
"Mon Dieu, you're a loud one, aren't ya?" an amused, accented voice piped up behind the anxious Padawan. An arm slung around Arctus shoulder, and a quick look revealed a tall Morellian who shot the former smuggler a lazy grin. One green eye scanned the Padawan from head to foot in one, quick glance. "Don't get much of a control over the Force, young man? I'd wager you don't."
Before Arctus could even get a word in he felt something being pressed to his side.
"Seen you hanging around and just staring at the senate building," the Morellian continued in a friendly tone, though the former smuggler didn't miss the subtle suspicion that glinted in the other man's eye, nor the very obvious dig of the point of a knife to his side. "If you have business inside, ami, then I'd gladly escort you!"
Arctus had been the recepient of veiled threats for the majority of his life. He knew his strengths and limitations, and right now he was confident that he could take on an unaligned Force-user (if the Morellian's comments were to go by) even if the latter was practically close to literally sticking a knife between the former smuggler's ribs.
"I'll wager I do, though," he replied, just as friendly. Grinning at the Morellian, Arctus shrugged. "What's it gonna be, mate? You mugging me or something?"
"Absolument non!" said the man rather cheerfully, chuckling at the lack of comprehension on the Padawan's face.
The arm around Arctus's shoulders felt a little heavier now as he let the Morellian walk him across the street and towards the senate building. To his mild surprise the mystery man did escort him inside the building, waving away one security personnel who approached the pair and was glaring at Arctus with suspicion. The Padawan simply went with the flow, aware that he simply couldn't act aggressively, not now. Not inside a building full of civvies and armed guards. The Morellian, on the other hand, greeted workers and other security personnel with utter familiarity, and Arctus didn't need a big neon sign nor a uniform and ID pointing out that the red-haired guy actually worked here. Security, too, most likely. What rank, though?
The Padawan was led away from the atrium, then towards a lift. Up the odd pair went, with the Morellian whistling a jaunty tune while Arctus wondered just what crime he might have committed. Hells, it was because he'd been hovering around and just staring at the senate building while he gathered the courage to approach, wasn't it? Because, he now realized, that that was pretty suspicious of him. If the Morellian was indeed security then he must've thought that Arctus was some kind of a trouble maker. Fucking hell, hadn't Arctus read on a news article that an assassination had been attempted on the Senator (well, Governor now for quite a while) whose life was saved by the very same lady Mando who helped Arctus on Tatooine?
Across the halls the pair walked, the silence only broken by the Morellian's continued whistling. At least the man had found it prudent to let Arctus go now, but the knife was being twirled playfully between gloved fingers. The Padawan was also familiar with the current threat to his person on full display – while Arctus himself hadn't been disarmed the Morellian now had the advantage for at each end of the hall stood another pair of security personnel, one a green-skinned jovial Nautolan and the other a bored-looking human male. Both were eyeing Arctus with varying levels of curiosity and suspicion. Security cams watched him as well. Gods, he didn't need to create needless trouble for the Jedi Order. This was exactly why he didn't wear anything that would tie him to the Order – well, except for the Padawan braid around his wrist that looked more like a bracelet, really.
Karking hells, thought the Padawan, this time mindful to carefully obscure his thoughts using the Force. I just want to see my savior. Is that too much to ask?
Before they reached the end of the hall, the Morellian stopped by an inconspicuous door and gave it three, quick raps before using a card key to open it. Once again the man slung an arm around Arctus, steering the Padawan inside though this time the knife didn't make a reappearance.
"Bosswoman! Found a pretty sus guy hanging around outside the building–"
The Morellian's voice was drowned out by the rush of a very familiar presence through the Force. Arctus was brought back to the memory of that night on Tatooine, lying bleeding on the sand and his assailants being felled one by one by a sniper bolt. A feeling of imminent danger, though it wasn't aimed at him.
Never at him.
Kind, it said. Safe. Nothing but good intentions. Hands that killed, yes... but now they exist to save you. You're safe, Arctus.
Words spoken to him by the Force he had once passed off as sharp intuition, describing the woman who had saved his life. Words being spoken to him now, as a figure clad in the familiar grey beskar and durasteel emerged from an adjacent room, T-visor settling on Arctus who just stood there frozen, hazel grey eyes locked where her eyes would be beneath the cover of her helm. He could feel her staring, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to shove the Morellian aside so he could rush to her and... and what?
He'd changed, and so did she – though to him she was still the same, kind Mando who made sure that he would live despite the beatings and injuries he'd received. His angel clad in beskar. Did she remember him? Would she still remember him? Would his savior–
"Oh, shoot...!" exclaimed the same, soft voice that had etched itself permanently in the former smuggler's mind. Arctus's heart never ceased it's pounding and instead hammered harder against his sternum at Mando's next words.
"Holy shit, I know you. I know you, but whoah, you've... you've changed! Arctus! Do you remember me?"
——
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