Cejanr (A Rexsoka SWTCW Fanfic)

59

Ahsoka stood, meaning to confront Rafa. Rafa glared bitterly at her and waved her off haphazardly.

"Go tell Trace to get going." She said in the slow, clipped tones of somebody trying to hide the amount of painkillers their on. Or, when it came to Corascant lowlifes, how much spice you had taken. Rafa slumped on her lower bunk across from Ahsoka, pinching her brow. "Well? Go get her!"She snapped.

Ahsoka sighed. She couldn't fix all the evils, and whatever Rafa had already hit was in her system until it wore off. Best to keep an eye on her.

She made her way into the cockpit, where Trace was fiddling with the intercomm system. She slammed the panel shut and glanced up.

"We're ready. Rafa back?" She asked. Ahsoka nodded.

"She's back on her bunk. Told me to tell you to get going." Trace nodded.

"Figured." She motioned to the sear next to her as she sat down. "Care to co-pilot? You probably know a thing or two more than me, considering your fancy church or whatever."

Ahsoka chuckled slightly, sitting down at the co-pilots chair and going through her preflight checks. Less than ten minutes later, Trace was easing her way out of the shop and into Corascant airspace. She let out a slow breath before getting into a lane heading to orbit. A voice crackled over the comms.

"Silver Angle this is flight tower 5745, please send us a ping to confirm identification before reaching orbit." A feminine voice said. Trace held her breath and hit the button. Ahsoka shot her a sidelong glance.

"Everything alright?" She asked. Trace nodded.

"This ship... well, I bought the skeleton second hand. I was assured the plate was rescrubbed and registered under my name, and double checked that to be sure. I'm just..." she trailed off, searching for the words.

"A little worried that somebody would find something and keep you from doing this job?" Ahsoka asked. Trace nodded.

"This spice run could mean everything for us. It's our ticket out of debt, and if it goes well, maybe Rafa will let me do a couple more small shipments like this. Get us out of poverty and off Corascant." Trace said bitterly. Ahsoka nodded empathetically.

"I know that feeling, of being scared you'll be recognized for something that was purely accidental. Don't worry, it'll probably go fine." Ahsoka reassured her. Trace slumped.

Sure enough, they were cleared without incident. Trace caught her breath as she guided the ship into orbit, artificial gravity kicking in.

"Woah." She whispered, staring at the expanse of stars in front of her. She turned around and stood up, yelling into the bunkroom. "Rafa! Rafa come look at the stars!" She called excitedly as she raced back out to the cockpit and resisted the urge to press her face up against it like a kid at a sweet store.

Ahsoka let her marvel while the hyperdrive calibrated Rafa was passed out on her bunk in a drugged sleep.

Trace sighed as the computer beeps and moved to hit the hyperdrive. Ahsoka put a hand on her arm to caution her, a rare teasing smile curling around her lips.

"You might wanna grab a bucket. Hypersickness can set on you before you can comprehend what's happened, and vomit is hard to clean from consoles." She advised. Trace paled a little, but grabbed a bucket from storage and settled it in her lap before easing the lever forward.

It was five hours to Kessle, and while Trace did not get hypersick, Rafa on the other hand... Ahsoka resisted the urge to laugh as she found out the hard way that spice and hyperspace don't mix well.

The place they landed at first was a shock to Ahsoka. After Rafa had cleaned herself up and most of the spice had apparently worn off, she closed the deal with the representative in charge of overseeing spice delivery. Ahsoka was amazed at the sheer wealth around her. Lush gardens and marble walkways and pillars looked more like Padme's palace on Naboo that the rocky, pockmarked world that Kessle had always beed described as.

She kept her head down, walking quietly behind the sisters when the representative motioned to her. "You claim to be a newcomer to this sort of commerce, yet you clearly have fine taste in entertainment and fashion. Your togruta is an excellent specimen. Tell me, how did you come by it?"

Ahsoka bristled as she realized what he thought she was. A slave. She forced her face neutral, keeping her eyes glued to the feet of the people in front of her. She saw Trace's brow furrow slightly.

"She's-"

"-been with us for many years." Rafa cut her off, discretely jabbing her sister in the side. "It's one of our most prized possessions. I'm always happy for a chance to show her off."

The representative smiled. "I would be too. Please, may I?" He asked, stepping towards Ahsoka. Rafa nodded, giving Ahsoka a cold and slightly triumphant glare. Although inwardly seething and fighting back bad memories of Kavado, she played the part of the slave. The representative tutted at her broken fang and facial scars.

"Looking closer, a bit banged up isn't she?" He tilted her head this way and that, revealing more marks and the scar from the shock collar around her neck. "Ah, zygerrian merchandise. That explains it. Good, meek slaves, but they could be a bit gentler with the whip. So many marks... it's a shame you're not selling. I'd love to add her to my collection. I'd pay handsomely." He hinted. Rafa shook her head.

"No. She is too valuable to me to sell." She said with mock bitterness. "Although... she may provide good entertainment for us at luncheon." She smiled. Trace whipped around to openly stare at her sister, horror on her face.

The representative smiled warmly at Rafa. "I would like that very much." Ahsoka pressed her lips together. She needed to get to Oba Diah. Even if it meant being a 'slave' to a spice addict, wannabe hustler.

She was taken aside and lead to a small stage in a grand dining room. There was a backstage area with props for different acts; chains, ribbons, flags, and a last one that made Ahsoka smile. In the precious few minutes she had before the others came, she put together a simple routine or two. It would serve as a good reminder for Rafa on who she was dealing with.

When the others arrived, she picked up the two medium length batons she had selected and rubbed down with firefuel. There was a small brassier in the center of the stage, and with a touch, the ends of the batons caught flame.

They weren't lightsabers, not by a long shot. But as Ahsoka tumbled and spun through a flashier version of some of her katas, they held a ring of familiarity that made her ache for her own green blades.

As the lunch ended and she was given a small cut of cold meat for her efforts, She was then taken back to the ship for her 'masters' to finish the business opportunity.

She smiled at the ceiling of the small cabin, trying to ignore the lingering smell of vomit as she recalled the pallor of Rafa's face. It had been worth the minor sunburn like injury on the tops of her hands from the firesticks.