Before - Legends Before the Saga The Kammris Falcon - Jedi Noir ---- OC 3rdQ Challenge - Negotiations

Author: Kit'
Title: The Kammris Falcon
Characters: Jedi Padawan Tara Tarinda, Jedi Shadow Saelyra, Nyx Senka
Timeframe: 55BBY (about 10 years before Order 66)
Challenge: Third Quarter 2023 OC Challenge: Negotiations
Summary:
All Private Investigator Nyx Senka wants is a quiet life hunting down information on the doomed love lives of Coruscant's rich and famous and earning enough to keep herself in drink. Her detective friend in the Coruscant Security, Marcellan, usually gives her the best leads...but this time he's brought along two Jedi who apparently need her help.

Although Nyx doesn't care so much about the lives and mistakes of the Jedi; she does about paying her overdue bar tab... Besides the Jedi padawan is kinda cute and this does sound like one hell of an adventure.

Now Nyx's is embroiled in a quest to locate the Kammris Falcon, an ancient Jedi holocron, that may bring down the Order.

 

Chapter 1 - Two Jedi walk into a bar

The moment she walked into The Drunken Nerf I knew she was trouble. The tan and white robes, traditional as they were, did little to hide the curves, a fact she'd probably appreciate more if she could see the hungry stares of The Nerf's less than sober patrons. The way the Jedi held herself in such a self-possessed and confident manner despite her obvious discomfiture at such an establishment didn't hurt either. As she drew closer I realised that she was younger than I’d thought. From the confidence in the way she carried herself, I’d expected someone much older, but she looked like she was only in her early twenties.

Behind her came another one. Darker robes this time, red ribbon tied across her eyes; the established dress-code of a Miraluka. Some people would take a Miraluka’s blindness as a weakness, but experience, and the scars I had to show for it, had taught me better. I shook my head. Jedi were never supposed to be inconspicuous, but these two stood out like torches on a pitch black night. There were damn Jedi in The Drunken Nerf and I knew, from experience, that things were about to get messy.

The air almost thrummed with tension. Many of the sketchier patrons started slowly heading to the door, as if any haste might bring them to the attention of the two Jedi. I already knew such carefulness was silly, those two had already clocked everyone in the establishment. I just hoped that they had not clocked me. All the Jedi I’d ever met were the lightsaber first, ask questions later variety and, given the way these two carried themselves - as if they owned the place - I doubted they were any different.

I ordered another drink from Jocxter, the rather ornery and terse proprietor, and wished Marcellan would appear early for once; that way I could pass off my information, meet his ‘partner’ and be out of here before the Jedi started asking too many questions. I mean as a P.I. I don’t always deal with the lighter side of the law, and I’m not sure that the Jedi with their high morals and values would understand the intricacies of my profession and the way that it dips in and out of the shadows and runs the edges of the law.

I found myself tapping the bar idly as I watched the door for Marcellan. The man was rarely late. A good trait, I’d always found in a profession such as his. You see, Marcellan was a cop. I don’t mean one of the beer-bellied bludgers that normally hung out on the lower levels of Coruscant; the ones you could bribe to look the other way while you were shaking down some particularly skeevy low-life.

No, Marcellan was one of those coppers that seemed to survive on will power and integrity. It was the only reason I’d deal with him. He got intel from the lower-levels and I got a few of the juicer cases that the law technically couldn’t touch thrown my way. The last case he’d thrown my way had been especially juicy: find the smuggler who had bought the Kammris Falcon, use my contacts to find out when it was being sold and pass the info onto him and his partner. For that he’d promised to run half a dozen airspeeder tickets for me so that I could let my current clutch of anxious, wealthy parents from Coruscant’s Upper Class know exactly who it was that their precious, darling, and predominantly idiotic, children were currently in love with.

Without a word, the two Jedi slid into a booth nearby. The Miralukan raised a hand to summon the bartender. Jocxter appeared quickly, and the two ordered drinks; two dark lagers and something bright cherry red. I hid my smile in my own drink wondering what the Jedi would make of the Jocxter’s House Special .

The younger Jedi smiled, though there was no joy behind it. I edged closer, desperate to hear what they were talking about despite the danger. She drank from her glass, then set it on the table with a gentle sigh.

"Now what?" Her voice sounded calm, but underneath that I sensed something else... resignation? Disgust? No, not disgust. Disillusionment, perhaps.

“We wait, little shadow,” the older one said, patiently. “Our opportunity will come. We just need the right information to fall into our laps.”

I frowned. I could see the long, thin scars criss-crossing her face and neck like someone had drawn an intricate web of pink and silver lace across her skin. I wondered who had dared to put them there. Then I found myself wondering if they were still alive. She was exceedingly pretty and, had it not been for my desire to stay together in one piece, I would have definitely made a pass to see how far I could get.

The door of the bar slid open and I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Marcellan’s solid form illuminated by the neon blue light advertising dancing Twi’lek girls and cheap alcohol. It was a lie of course; The Drunken Nerf hadn’t had dancing girls for years and the alcohol definitely wasn’t cheap.

Marcellan didn’t even see me, instead he sauntered towards where the Jedi were sitting and slid into their booth. I rolled my eyes, wondering what he’d want with the Jedi. He definitely wasn’t going to get anywhere if he flirted with them. Of all the men I knew, Marcellan had to be the most unoriginal when it came to flirting.

He said something to the Miraluka that I couldn’t hear and then nodded his thanks as he picked up one of the glasses. My stomach dropped as I realised what this meant; Marcellan’s new partner was one, or knowing my luck, both of the Jedi. His gaze swept over the room as he sipped at his lager and then he noticed me. His brows rose and I made a face at him, wondering if I could still slip away before the Jedi saw me. It was too late; two heads swivelled to look in my direction. I wondered why the Miraluka was even bothering to glance in my direction seeing as, from what I knew of the species, she couldn’t see.

I slipped from my chair and sauntered, or at least tried to saunter, in their direction. Marcellan slid across slightly as I got there, patting the now empty chair cushion in invitation.

“I wouldn’t do that,” I said before I could stop myself, “Jocxter doesn’t exactly keep this place clean. You don’t know what you might accidentally unleash.”

I paused, but the Jedi did not react to what I’d hoped was some light-hearted banter. Now I was closer I could see the younger Jedi’s scars more clearly. She glanced my way and I let out a hiss of surprise. Her eyes I could see had once been green, but now they were covered in a white, milky layer. Probably, I noted from the thicker, ropier scar that ran across her face from ear to ear, from whatever had caused that.

The young Jedi raised an eyebrow at my noise and I felt my face heat.

“Nyx,” Marcellan said, ignoring my outburst. “This is Jedi Master Saelyra and Jedi Padawan Tara Tarindae.” There was a momentary pause and I wasn’t sure whether to stick out my hand or bow like I’d seen Jedi do in the holos. I went for the safe option and did nothing. “Saelyra, Tara, this is Nyx Senka. She’s a private investigator who helps me out on occasion.”

“This is your contact?” The older Jedi, Saelyra, of only one name, asked. “Aren’t you worried about your higher ups knowing you get a private investigator to do your dirty work?”

“Could say the same,” I pointed out, debating about whether to settle into the role of defiant underbelly provocateur or insolent, but grimly determined P.I. I turned towards where Marcellan was sitting sipping his beer. “Aren’t you worried about your higher ups knowing you’re consorting with Jedi? Isn’t there an unspoken code your organisations don’t talk to each other? I mean isn’t it that the Jedi make the mess and Coruscant Security cleans it up?”

The elder Jedi said nothing, their face annoyingly impassive, but I was, at least momentarily, rewarded by a scowl from the younger one.

“There are many things I don’t think my command chain would officially like to know,” Marcellan, ever the peace-maker, interjected. “But they like the fact that I have the best arrest and conviction rate on the Force, so they look the other way. Something I think that’s going to serve everyone at this table very well.”

There was a long pause. I caught Jocxter’s eye and made a gesture. His eyebrow raised slightly and he pointed at the old register that sat behind the counter. I sighed as I dug a couple of credits out of my pocket and pushed them across to the edge of the table. A minute later the grumpy old Falleen put a bottle and a couple of glasses down before scooping up the money.

“I expect change,” I said, trying for some sort of authority.

“I’ll take it off your tab,” Jocxter replied. “Not that it’ll make a dent in how much you owe me.”

“Saved you from making a mistake with your ex-wife,” I reminded him cheerfully. “Figured that I had wiped my tab.”

“It did,” Jocxter grunted. “But then you worked it back up again.”

I made a face at him, suddenly mindful of my audience. “I don’t drink that much.” I protested weakly.

Jocxter said nothing, just shrugged and went off to deal with some gamorreans who were getting rather boisterous on the other side of the establishment.

“Where were we?” I asked, turning back to the others. I poured a round of drinks into the shot glasses. Normally I would clean them, or at least wipe them out with something, but I figured the drink Jocxter had offered would mostly kill any germs that still camped out in the spit-polished glasses and I wanted to see what the Jedi would do.

“You were about to explain who has the Kammris Falcon,” Marcellan said, picking up his glass and eyeing it dubiously. “And then you were going to accompany Saelyra and Tara when it goes up for sale.”

I stared at him, one eyebrow raised. “I can tell you where the Falcon is,” I said, taking a sip of my own drink and regretting it instantly as it burnt down the back of my throat. “But two Jedi will stand out like Hutts on Hoth in the place it's being sold. It’s a private sale with a very exclusive clientele so I’d be better off going alone.”

Saelyra, the older one, picked up and threw back the shot before I could warn her. She smiled at me as swallowed it. “I think you underestimate us,” she said quietly. “If I have the name of the place and the likely occupants, I can ensure that no-one will suspect there are Jedi amongst them.”

“I thought you had to wear those silly robes,” I said, refilling both of our glasses. “Wouldn’t it be a bit conspicuous if you walked around Hutt territory dressed like that? You might draw attention.”

Saelyra shook her head as she took a slow drink. “I am more than capable of blending in and making myself inconspicuous. And anyway, we’ve been here before. We’ll only need to be here long enough to confirm a purchase order. The rest should go smoothly. I’m already familiar with the place.” Her head turned towards Tara, and she drummed her fingers on the table. I did momentarily wonder why two blind Jedi would need to look at each other which was quickly followed by wondering if I could work out if drumming her fingers was some strange sort of code. I tried to follow it, but Saelyra was already turning back to face me. “So? What do you think, detective, are you coming, or not?”

Well, that was easy, wasn’t it? Everything to a Jedi was always so easy. I felt a surge of annoyance and let my irritation show on my face – not too hard of a thing to do with my current mood – and set my glass down on the table. If the Jedi sensed my flash of temper; they ignored it completely, much less respond.

I knew that I shouldn’t trust anyone associated with the Order, but the feeling that I needed to see this through to the end persisted nonetheless, nagging at me like a persistent itch. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why it bothered me so much, though, so I pushed it aside.

It was probably all part of the whole ‘finding a missing object and solving the mystery’ business I liked to play. That was all this was – a puzzle for me to solve. Nothing complicated about it. And yet…

“Yeah, alright,” I muttered. “Let’s go. Although I'm the one with the contacts, so if we're going to do this then you have to ditch the silly robes and follow my lead."

“Don’t worry about that,” Saelyra snorted. She took her time finishing her drink, then stood up and stretched. "We're good to go. Tara?"

The younger Jedi rose gracefully from her seat.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied easily, and Marcellan followed suit. I fought back the urge to remind Marcellan that he didn't work for the Jedi, but stopped myself when the man laid down enough credits to pay off the drinks and some of my tab. I'd learnt long ago not to bite the hand that fed you, and definitely not to bite the hand that paid for your drinks. I finished the bottle and stood up, trailing after them.

It was almost exactly what I’d imagined it would be when the Jedi had first walked into the bar - trouble.

 

Great start and nice to see Saelyra and Tara working together with Nyx Senka and Marcellan

 

Thanks @earlybird-obi-wan! Hopefully you'll enjoy the rest of the story

Nyx definitely developed a crush on Tara (despite my best efforts as the author to steer her in the other direction) so things got very woolly very quickly. Next is at least soon, so not long to wait for Chapter 2

 

Chapter 2 - The Falcon Revealed

I tugged at the stiff, upright collar of my shirt, and wondered, not for the first time, how anyone could ever find clothes like these comfortable. I’d found this particular item down the back of my wardrobe, shoved down deep as if that would be enough to erase it, and all the memories that went with it, from my life. There had been a strange feeling of relief when I’d pulled it out, all wrinkled and creased which I told myself was entirely due to the fact that I didn’t have to spend the credits that I definitely didn’t have, on an outfit that was going to pass muster in this particular tier of society, and not because it dragged up the memory of the last time I’d worn it.

I’d spent my last credits on having it cleaned and pressed. To be honest, I'd spent both credits and part of my sanity, because old Mrs Nue had spent most of her time trying to prise details out of me about my love life - non-existent - or who I might be seeing - no one - and whether I would consider dating her nephew - not in this life-time. She'd finally declared that my outfit was cleaned and pressed and sent me on my way, her disappointment in my love-life obvious by the way that she 'accidentally' left her nephew's comm number in my pants pocket.

Now I was wondering if perhaps dating Mrs Nue’s nephew might have been preferable to throwing my lot in with two Jedi and a policeman who actually possessed moral integrity and a duracrete spine. I’d tried to get some information on both Jedi, but had, completely unsurprisingly given my past interactions with the concrete spire dwellers, come up with absolutely nothing.

Frustratingly, the Jedi didn’t seem to have the same issues with tracking me down. Saelyra had sent a message to what I considered my office; a dim and rather dingy single room I rented above a Mirilaran take-away, saying that Tara would meet me in the Grand Coruscant Hotel’s foyer.

I’d shown up early; a long-established habit and one I always used to my advantage in sussing out both the possible clientele and mapping escape routes. It also gave me time to settle my nerves. It had been a long time since I’d last darkened the door of such a prestigious establishment, and part of me was worried that I’d be recognised by someone - a hitch that would bring our plan undone.

So far luck was on my side. I’d spent the time watching the various groups enter the lobby - the world weary travellers too tired to talk, the upper-class parents with their flawless dressed children and harried nannies, and the swankily dressed couples who carried no luggage, but flashed discreet gold edge envelops to the gentleman and the counter. I had a similar set of golden invitations in my pocket, so it was the last group that I spent most of my time watching. It wasn’t that I was trying to copy them, I already knew how the upper echelons of society worked, it was more that I was wondering how the Jedi, with their stiff, upright postures, and black and white sense of decency and ethics would possibly go unnoticed in a crowd of people who were used to getting their own way because they had enough money to make problems disappear.

The Jedi was, irritatingly, also early. She was dressed as completely non-Jedi as I could have asked for, in a form fitting black jumpsuit that clung to every curve. My eyes were automatically drawn towards her cleavage and, after staring unashamedly for five full seconds, I was suddenly aware of the now awkward silence between us. I bit the inside of my lip, torn between complimenting her that she looked like one of the Jedi from the front cover of Blade of Adventure, or asking if this was what Jedi wore underneath their robes.

Both options seemed like a bad idea that would probably mean that I'd lose both legs in some sort of unfortunate accident with a lightsaber.

“You look...uh...nice…” I managed, kicking myself for my ineloquent summary of her outfit.

“Thank you…” Her gaze flicked down to the floor, before darting back up to mine again. It almost seemed like she was looking through me and into my soul. It was a strange sensation, and stranger still when you considered that she couldn't actually see me at all. I wondered, for about the sixteenth time since I'd met them, exactly how much a Jedi could read from someone's thoughts and how much was only legend.

//Are you getting a kick out of reading my mind?// I thought loudly, and then followed it up with a mental string of curse-words from every language I knew, just in case.

"Have you got the invitation," Tara asked, her face giving no sign that she'd heard my internal monologue.

This was, all things considered, probably for the best considering the Grand Coruscant Hotel towered over the Coruscant skyline and that I had no intention of being neither the victim of a lightsaber accident, nor practising skydiving without a parachute simply because I could not control my thoughts around an attractive woman. I tried to remind myself that this was a job and how badly it had ended last time I'd thought pursuing a relationship with a client was a good idea.

“I do,” I said, finishing my drink and sliding off my chair. I offered the crook of her arm and then felt almost instantaneously foolish when I realised that she wouldn’t be able to see my gesture.

She flinched slightly when I gently touched her arm with my hand, and I frowned. I had always pictured Jedi as being hyper aware of their surroundings. “If you’re going to look like my date, then we need to at least seem like we’re friendly.” I said softly. “Apologies.”

Tara nodded, closing her eyes for a second and breathing out slowly. She slid her hand into the crook of my arm, her brow creasing slightly as it slid against the soft fur. At least I hoped it was that and not the way my heart suddenly raced, and my face heated slightly. Blushing is, I’ve discovered, never a good look when you’re trying to maintain your persona as a hard-edged P.I.

We headed towards the entrance, and I was glad that the crowd didn’t part around us or pay any extra attention to me and my ‘date’. I know many people like the attention, but this whole thing rested on being able to fit in with the crowd.

The tip of my tail twitched in annoyance, when the bouncer gave a cursory glance at our invitations, but a far longer stare at Tara’s ample curves. I reminded myself yet again that everything always became more complicated if you developed any sort of feelings on a job. The corner of her mouth twitched upwards slightly, as we cleared the entrance way.

“How much can you see?” I asked, my curiosity overcoming my irritation. “I mean, I’m going to trust you to get me out of a pickle, I need to know.”

“Are you planning on getting us into a pickle?” Tara asked, smoothly taking a glass of Correllian wine from a passing waiter. She paused to regard me, her head on one side and then her mouth curved into the tiniest hint of a smile. “See with my eyes? Nothing. See with my other…” she paused, as if looking for the right word - “senses? Enough to know the Togruta on the door stared at my cleavage for less time than you did.”

This time I really did blush. For a moment I couldn’t think straight, my eyes darting towards the escape exits I’d already picked up. I suddenly wondered what it would be like to live with no tail, or any legs, and if a lightsaber really hurt as much as I’d heard. Tara squeezed my arm gently.

“My Ma…” she paused again. “My mentor always reminds me to focus on the job at hand. I might be able to sense people, emotions and…ah…occasionally thoughts…but I cannot read normal text anymore, nor see the art on display here. As our…ah…business acquaintances are not here yet, you are going to have to be my guide.”

I placed my other hand on top of hers and guided her slowly between the objects. Guests had been invited to mingle and admire them, and also to admire the rather hefty price-tags that had been placed less than discreetly beside each object. In the true fashion of people with more money than fashion sense, the smaller ones had been placed atop small plinths of Selonian marble, almost creating a maze of illicit treasures. I knew the sellors of some of the items had also come along to check that their items were being ‘appropriately displayed’, when in actuality they were there to ensure that they received the payment at the end of the night. That was, I’d discovered long ago, the issue of working with criminals, there was always a decided lack of trust.

“You are being remarkably quiet,” Tara said after a few moments. “Is there anything I should know about?”

I shook my head, reminded myself she couldn’t see it, realised that she could probably see it through the Force and then sighed.

“You…” This time it was my turn to search for the right words, a rare occurrence in my line of work. “And your friend make me nervous. I’m not sure what I should be thinking, that won’t end up with me a foot shorter and with no need for shoes.” Tara chuckled, and I felt my face warm again. “Although,” I continued hurriedly, “I now know your weakness.”

We paused in front of a large white painting called A Wampa In A Snow Storm. I took the glass from her hand and put on a spare tray before snagging two more glasses.

“And what is that?” Tara asked.

“If I want to plot something nefarious without you knowing, all I need to do is write it down.”

She laughed properly this time, and several people turned to look at us. I chided myself for drawing attention, but part of me was secretly pleased that I’d managed to do something I didn’t think was possible and make one of the oh-so-serious tower-dwellers crack a giggle.

Tara smiled at me. “Thank you. I don’t think I’ve laughed properly in ages.”

“Is laughing not allowed where you live?” I shot back, grinning. I wasn’t expecting her face to fall, as she looked away and bit her lower lip. The turn of her head meant that one of the more vivid, visceral scars that ran from underneath her hairline to her collar twisted angry and red.

“Apologies,” I said softly. I took a swig from my glass and immediately regretted it when the bubbles fizzed down my nose. I sneezed and shook my head, annoyed at myself on every level. So far I was breaking every one of my personal rules: being the centre of attention in a room full of dangerous people - check, catching feelings for my client - check, being back among high-society - check and finally consorting with Jedi - double check.

“Why don’t you like high society?” Tara asked as we moved on to the next plinth. My brow furrowed. “You think very loudly,” she said after a moment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“I work for these people,” I said, trying to go for the easier, safer and far less convoluted option. “I don’t exactly want to make my presence known. It’ll create questions. They like their problems…” I swallowed hard, irritated at almost revealing the truth. It was something about the Jedi. No, it was something about this Jedi in particular, that meant I was letting my guard down more easily than I should. “They like the people who solve their problems to disappear,” I said, rewording it carefully.

It was true from a certain point of view; I had been their problem and I had made myself disappear.

“I see.” Was all Tara said. “Have you spotted the Falcon yet?”

I glanced around the room. “No, not yet. We are heading towards the higher priced stuff though, so it should be soon. I thought that with your…ah…senses…you’d be able to feel its presence.”

“Normally, maybe,” Tara replied, her own brow furrowing. “But not this one. It’s strange. Things as old as this, even things not related to my particular line of work have some sort of signature. The older they are, the more they’ve been around people and events the more likely they are to pick up their own feeling. Even if it’s not actually being produced by them…like a…”

“An echo,” I offered.

“Exactly like that.” She smiled and my heart beat faster. “ If this is as old as the seller claims then it should have an echo.” She glanced around. “Some of the things in here have that echo.”

“Like what?” I asked, despite myself.

“Like whatever that is,” Tara said and pointed at a nearby plinth. I barely managed to stop myself from dragging her over to it. No need to make us stand out again by moving at anything more than a sedate and uninterested pace. The item was a little music box. It was a tiny, delicate thing that would have, had it not been for the seller that was glaring at me, fit perfectly in the palm of my hand.

“Music box. Era High Republic.” I read. I looked at Tara and smiled. “So what do you think of that?”

I realised she wasn’t listening to me. I followed her gaze, or rather where her gaze would have gone, and saw an older Twi’lek woman talking to one of the hosts. She turned slightly, caught my eye, pointed and started talking more animatedly, punctuating her points with loud gestures. My heart sank.

“Who is that?” Tara asked quietly as she turned to face me.

“That,” I said with a sigh, “is the right, honourable Senator Valandria of Kestos Minor, whose husband I caught in a rather delicate situation last year with his receptionist.”

“Oh,” Tara looked puzzled. “I thought you said that people wanted their problems to go away. Wouldn’t making a fuss of you being here simply highlight that she knows you?”

“Yes,” I conceded, my heart sinking lower, “except that I also caught her in own embarrassing predicament when Mr Valandria paid me for the same services that his now former wife had hired me for. When it all came to light, there were words. There were also lawyers. I came out on top, but it was a rather pyrrhic victory.”

The Senator bustled towards me, like one of those gaudy luxury cruise liners about to dock. The host from the hotel flapped alongside her; his wringing hands and crease-lined face betraying his nerves.

“She,” Senator Valandria snapped, pointing at me, “Should not be here.”

“Uh, Miss…” The hotelier was looking at me, desperate to be thrown a lifeline. His name badge read Egill.

“Senka,” I said firmly, instantly aware of how easily the polite, disengaged smile I’d used so much when I was younger snapped back into place and how my voice slid firmly and distinctly into an upper-class Corusanti accent. “My partner and I have invitations, if you’d like to see them.”

I dug around in my pockets, fishing out the invitations and handing them to the suddenly relieved looking Egill.

“Miss Senka has an invitation,” Egill said, looking even more relieved when the invitations turned out not to be obvious fakes. He waved a hand at the security guard who had been trailing some distance behind.

“Invitation or not, people like her shouldn’t be allowed in here,” Senator Valandria snapped.

“People like her?” Tara asked, taking a step forward. I felt myself sag. There was no point in both of us getting kicked out. “Did you mean felacatians, or did you misspeak?”

“It’s not her species, it's what she does for a living,” Senator Valandria snapped, her eyes narrowing. “She is someone a nice young lady like you should not be around. You know what they say about lying down with dogs-”

“Not a dog,” I interjected, my voice rising slightly. My tail twitched sharply and I could feel my teeth lengthening with my growing irritation. It was the downside of being a felacatian. Our emotions didn’t just show on our faces, they literally took over our entire bodies.

“I don’t care what my partner does for a living,” Tara said sharply, although her own face was nothing but calm. “And if we are going to talk about standards of behaviour. Yours has been quite out of line. I think, Senator Valandria, for the sake and reputation of everyone involved her that-” Her fingers moved as if signalling a waiter. “that you need to forget that Nyx is here tonight and have a drink.”

The Senator pulled her head back a fraction, her eyes suddenly confused. “I think I will have a drink.” She repeated, frowning. She wandered away towards one of the nearby waiters.

Egill also frowned, equally confused by the sudden turn of events. “Sorry about that,” he said quietly, turning away. I watched him go, my heart sinking again when I saw him duck his head to talk to another staff member. They both glanced in our direction.

“I see you’re doing your normal level of keeping quiet and out of the way.” Marcellan’s voice sounded close to my ear and I jumped spilling some of my drink.

“Don’t you know the rules? Don’t sneak up on a lady,” I hissed, turning on him.

“As far I’m concerned I still haven’t broken that rule,” Marcellan smiled back, his hazel eyes lighting up with pleasure at teasing me.

I scowled at him, shaking my hand so that the champagne drops that clung to my fur splattered him.

“Careful,” he said, taking a step back. “This is rented.”

“Looks it,” I replied snarkily. He gave me another bemused smile as he ran his hand through his dark hair. Marcellan had, I’m pretty sure, no idea of the effect that he had on the ladies. His tall, ruggedly good looks were only marred by his annoying tendency to play exactly by the rules. It was part of what had surprised me about his organisation of this venture. I had always been Marcellan’s last resort - a kind of line he could only bring himself to cross if there were no options left. The fact that he’d decided to bring in two Jedi on top of that made it more confusing.

“Do you know where the falcon is?” Marcellan asked.

I shook my head. “Not yet. I was thinking your…ah…partner might have found it.” I frowned. “Where is your partner?”

“Lyra is off flirting with everyone she finds,” Marcellan said, turning slightly to look over the crowd. My eye-twitched at the use of a nickname for the older Jedi. I filed the idea, that they might have known each other longer than I’d realised, away to ponder later.

“Your definition of flirting is casually talking to a member of the opposite sex,” I reminded him. “I doubt someone in her occupation knows how to flirt. Be all high and mighty - yes, but someone who wears bathrobes as a fashion choice, deciding to go and flirt like the common people? Surely you are mistaken.”

I stopped myself a heartbeat too late. I glanced at Tara, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

Tara looked at me, smiled and fluttered her eyelashes. “But I just helped you escape the clutches of a rather dastardly politician,” she said, and then bit her bottom lip. My heart hammered in my chest even as my face burnt with embarrassment. She turned slightly, and walked her fingertips up my chest. Every touch of her fingers left a trail of fire against my skin. “I could always call Senator Valandria back over. Explain that she was right… Or you could just say thank you and then, later, you could show me your appreciation…”

I couldn’t move. This wasn’t flirting. This was being slapped by an entire line-up of Twi’lek dancing girls.

As suddenly as she started, she stopped. Leaving me rather breathless and unable to think, Tara took a step back and grinned at me. Besides her, Marcellan burst into laughter.

“Oh Nyx,” he said breathlessly. “You should see your face.”

“I think we should find the Kammris Falcon now,” I said, hating how my tail gave away my internal anguish. I looked across the room to where I knew the higher priced items were. A movement in the far corner of the room caught my attention. I turned, watching the group until they parted again, revealing a portly Togruta. He was immaculately dressed, and although the fabrics weren’t as ostentatious as many of the others in the room, the tailoring spoke of money, power, and influence. Next to him stood a small Rodian, who was rubbing his hands together.

I’d only taken a few steps when I felt a touch on my shoulder. I paused and Tara slid her hand into the crook of my arm.

“Have you found it?” she asked, her voice serious. For a moment I wanted to pull my arm from her grasp, but I knew the moment I did I’d regret it. “I can’t feel the item, but I have a very bad feeling about what you are walking towards.”

“As you should,” Saelyra cut in. She joined us, standing easily beside Marcellan. Even out of her robes, she still managed to carry herself as if she could easily command the room. Her outfit, like all the other women in the room, seemed designed more to impress than to be comfortable. “That is Zasho Tanluxi."

"Noted crime boss, who thinks nothing of killing people” I chimed in. It wasn’t just the Jedi or the Security Force who kept a close eye on the comings and goings of the Coruscant underworld. I always made sure I knew the main players, mostly so I could avoid those who would possibly kill me. “And the Rodian is Prontikk Yoncka, noted purveyor of stolen goods and all-round slime ball.”

“Tanluxi is wanted across three different sectors,” Marcellan said, raising an eyebrow.

“If he’s wanted, then why not wait until he buys it, arrest him and Prontikk and take the falcon as part of the evidence?” I asked, confused by why the detective and the Jedi were standing around doing nothing. “Why do we need the subterfuge?”

“Because I need to know where Prontikk found it,” Saelyra said, her mouth twisting as she thought. “If it’s as old as suggested then I need to know why the archives are incomplete.”

“Archives?” I sighed. Why did Jedi, or anyone like them, always have to talk in riddles and make things needlessly complicated. “Why not arrest him, take the evidence, and then ask him?”

“I have nothing to arrest him for and if I did, he’ll lawyer up the moment he’s arrested, and then he’ll go silent” Marcellan said, pursing his lips. He steered the group over to a small plinth upon which sat what was described as a Neo-classical Alderaanian vase. Marcellan pointed at one of the half-naked figures that decorated the pottery. “And Saelyra and Tara need the information.”

“So,” I said, my brow furrowing as I put the pieces together. “You got me to risk my life and limb to find out about this falcon thing, so that some archives, whatever they are, can be completed. Once you two have the information, then Marcellan can play the big damn hero, and swoop in and arrest the crime boss. While I get…”

“Your bar tab paid,” Saelyra said. “And our eternal thanks.”

“Bar tab is enough,” I said, my eyes narrowing. Tara’s stunt from earlier still stung. “Don’t need thanks from-” I left the unspoken barb hanging in the air. I turned to Tara. “What are these archives that I’m about to risk my life and limb for?”

“A library,” Tara said softly.

“A library?” I said loudly and clapped a hand over my mouth to stop the string of cuss words from erupting. “You’re going to all this trouble for a library?”

“Yes,” Tara said, frowning slightly. “I am a librarian.”

“A librarian,” I just about choked on my laughter. “You’re a librarian? You? So thousands of years of culture, twenty years of training, giving up your family, and choice of love and happiness, putting yourself in incredible danger all to guard and protect some books?”

“They aren’t just books,” Tara shot back, scowling. “And I didn’t give up my happiness.”

“Obviously,” I said, meeting her irritation with my own. “If we’re going to risk life and limb over it.”

“You don’t have to,” Saelyra put in, placing her hand between Tara and myself. I wasn’t entirely sure which one of us she was trying to placate. “If you want to go, we can take it from here.”

My scowl deepened. “Not likely.” I hated being told what to do. It brought out my stubborn streak. It got me into trouble frequently. I got the feeling it was about to do it all over again. “Two blind librarians-” I hissed the word “without weapons and a copper who doesn’t know the meaning of ‘bite off more than he can chew’ up against one of the Outer Rim’s biggest king-pins. I think I’ll stick around. Even if it’s only to make sure enough of you all survive so that I get paid.”

I suddenly wanted this to be over. I’d always thought Jedi were all action and no talk, but apparently I was wrong. I left the three of them bickering about how to proceed and stalked towards where I’d spotted the Falcon.

Zano Tanluxi raised a finger. Immediately Prontikk fell silent, his beady little eyes following me. I plastered the most vapid smile on my face and made a show of slowly and methodically reading the little plaque that accompanied the Falcon.

“I see someone else likes the Falcon.” Tanluxi’s voice was gravelly and deep. I looked up to see cold, dark eyes regarding me. For a large being, he’d moved incredibly quietly. I smiled, ignoring the way the fur on the back of my neck rose slightly.

“Why is it called the Falcon if it’s box shaped?” I asked, and then giggled. Part of me hated myself at that moment; that level of false-pretence had been one of the reasons I’d left my former life far behind.

Tanluxi relaxed, obviously not seeing me as a threat. He motioned at Prontikk and the squirmy little Rodian stepped forward, its eyes darting in every direction.

“It’s an ancient Jedi holocron,” Prontikk said, a smile twerking at the corner of his mouth. “Falcon is a corruption of an ancient word and of course it’s made out of pure Kammris. The metal is now used on cruisers, but back then…who knows.”

I frowned. My radar for lies and half-truths was going off inside my head. “Oh,” I said, and giggled. “That sounds fascinating…but what does it do?”

“It…ah…” Prontikk began, but stopped when he noticed Tanluxi frowning as he stared over my shoulder.

“Oh,” I said, following his gaze to where the two Jedi and Marcellan stood, motioning for me to return. “Those are my friends. They weren’t brave enough to come over here and ask.” I giggled again. “Only I was brave enough.”

“Brave and beautiful,” Tanluxi said, his hand suddenly resting on my shoulder. I giggled again, fighting down the urge to swipe his hand away. He beckoned at the others. “You should get your friends to come over and see my box. I say my box because, while I haven’t bought it yet, I will. Prontikk and I were just discussing terms.”

“Do you collect lots of Jedi stuff?” I asked, turning my face upwards, and fluttering my eye-lashes like my life depended on it because - to be frank - it did. “Don’t the Jedi get annoyed?”

“What they won’t know won’t hurt them,” Tanluxi growled. “Besides, why shut it away when it should be admired by everyone.”

I smiled again, and put my hand on his chest. “You are very smart.”

The other three joined us rather reluctantly and I noticed Marcellan kept mostly at the back. Tanluxi’s eyes narrowed when he saw him.

“Don’t I know you?” he asked. I saw Tara and Marcellan tense. I briefly wondered if Marcellan would be foolish enough to announce who he was and, despite his earlier declaration, decide that everyone was under arrest.

“How does it work?” I asked, interrupting as I reached towards the box. The gesture was enough to break the moment.

“No touching,” Prontikk snapped. I withdrew my hand quickly, making sure I pouted for good measure. Men like Tanluxi had, in my experience, always been suckers for a good pout.

“Sorry,” I murmured. “It’s just so pretty.” I turned to Tara. “Oh I wish you could see it.”

Tara smiled sadly. “I wish I could too.” She looked at Prontikk. Actually that wasn’t entirely true. She managed to look just over the rodian’s left shoulder. “Does it make noise? Is it like a music box?”

Tanluxi smiled at the group rather magnanimously, like a shark smiles at a school of fish. He turned that smile on Prontikk who had the good grace to swallow hard.

“It’s a simple procedure,” the Rodian said, his shaking hands betraying any sort of confidence his weasley personality would like to give off. “You just press this button here and…”

The holocron opened, the metal and glass top peeling back like petals opening on a new flower. Inside a holo crackled and fizzled into life. The image was grainy, a Jedi wearing familiar clothes. The holo crackled again and Prontikk scowled.

“It’s very old,” he said, in way of apology. “Ancient even.”

“When did you say it was from?” Saelyra asked, quietly.

“I didn’t,” Prontikk said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Although I gave it to some historians and they said it was so ancient that they couldn’t date it?”

“Jedi historians?” Saelyra asked, frowning slightly.

“No, of course not,” Prontikk replied, scowling. He leaned in conspiratorially and, despite my own misgivings, I found myself leaning in too. “If the Jedi knew this existed they would stop at nothing to get their hands on it. This holocron contains secrets that threaten the very existence of the Order.”

So that was why Tanluxi wanted the holocron. Not because it was some ancient item, but because it might become leverage in the future.

Prontikk was turning the holocron over in his hands. He smiled suddenly and turned a knob. “Temperamental old tech. Let’s try this again.”

This time when the holocron crackled into life it seemed far more stable. The image was blurry and washed of colour, but the voices came through strongly, although some of the sentences seemed strangely clipped. The two Jedi were speaking to each other rather than to the recorder.

“The Order won’t let this happen.” One was saying. “We’ve doomed ourselves.”
“It’s not our fault that we were taught lies by the *crackle*fizz* .”
“Master *crackle* has betrayed us. We must tell the truth-”

I glanced across at Tara who was biting her bottom lip and frowning in puzzlement. I realised that she was mouthing the words that the holocron was spitting out. The only problem was that Tara was doing it half a second before the actual recording. I frowned, wondering if it was a Jedi trick, like the way she’d managed to send Senator Valandria packing.

The holocron crackled and fizzed again. I watched as the scene changed to a lone padawan, standing over a fallen comrade.

“It’s lies…” The young man was sobbing. “The whole *hiss*fizz*crackle* Order is built on them.”

I looked at Tara again. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut and she seemed deep in concentration.

“Your Master will make sure we can never be together,” Tara murmured. There was an odd pause as the entire group turned to look at her.

“Your Master will make sure we can never *crackle*fizzle*pop*pop*pop*”

“We must leave the Order. Otherwise they’ll tear us apart,” Tara went on, not realising that now she, and not the holocron, was the entire focus of everyone’s attention. Her eyes were still closed, one hand scrunched into a fist as if that would help her concentrate.

“*crackle*hiss* leave the Order *pop*hiss* tear us apart.” The young man on the holovid repeated.

“What are you doing?” Tanluxi asked. The crime-boss’ meaty hands were balled into fists. He turned to me. “What is your friend doing?”

I shrugged. “Beats me.”

“Lies of the Jedi. That’s what our love will expose,” Tara murmured. This time it was my turn to frown; for some reason that line seemed remarkably familiar.

“Lies of the Jedi. That’s what *hiss*crackle* will expose,” the holocron repeated. I suddenly noticed how Prontikk was edging away. I glanced at Marcellan who, always quick on the uptake, side-stepped to block the shifty little criminal's way.

Tara opened her eyes and smiled, her relief was almost palpable. “It’s not real.”

“What do you mean?” Tanluxi asked. The Togruta’s face was calm, but I could see his rising anger by the way the thick ropes of muscle stood out on his neck. I took a step back, willing my body to calm even as the hackles on the back of my neck stood up, and my fingernails and teeth lengthened. There are few good times for a felacatian to shift in public, but to shift in a room full of criminals and rich Coruscanti had to rank as one of the worst.

“It’s lines from a holovid,” Tara said, biting her bottom lip, and frowning as she thought. “The first ones are from A Midnight Love and the second ones are from My Master’s Romance. Both of them are old holos.”

Tanluxi was regarding her, his cold eyes hard. “And how would you know this?”

“My…” She paused; struggling for a moment as her bottom lip trembled. “My father was a tragic romantic.” Her face coloured, the silver and pink scars tracing across her blushing cheeks like an artist's brush strokes. “He loved old things. He collected old things. When I was younger he used to read to me at night before I went to sleep. It was always romance novels. He loved holovids too, so they were always on in the background. After a while I could repeat them all by heart. It’s how I recognised these lines. I don’t think he meant for me to know them all so well, but he loved it that I did. It became our banter. One of us would say one line, the other would counter with the next until you tapped out because you couldn't remember what followed. It was always a fun way of splitting chores. The loser would always have to wash the dishes. I hate the dishes, so I learnt the lines so I wouldn't lose…”

Tara’s voice faded. She suddenly looked very alone and very, very lost. Next to her Saelyra had momentarily lost what I thought was a permanent air of bravado. She glanced away, her hands clenching and unclenching by her sides. My eyes narrowed. I had thought Saelyra was Tara’s Master, but the way the padawan was talking it sounded like there had been someone else. Unless this was all an elaborate act. From what I’d read, Jedi weren’t supposed to show emotion, or form emotional attachments and this definitely seemed like one of those.

“And your father now?” Tanluxi asked. The crime boss had suddenly softened. He placed one meaty paw under Tara’s chin and tipped her head slowly back. I saw him frown at the scars that marked her face.

Tara paused. Her shoulders shuddered for a second before she stilled. “I don’t know where he is. No-one does.” Her voice broke. “He could be dead for all I know.”

“I lost my own father at a young age,” Tanluxi said, nodding. He took his finger out from under her chin and then stepped forward, one meaty hand closing around the holocron. “I think you should have this.”

“But that’s mine,” Prontikk protested. Tanluxi swung his bulk around to face the rodian. Prontikk squirmed under the crime lord’s gaze. “But…but…but…of course you can have it. No charge. Good will to orphans an all that.”

I almost, almost felt sorry for the weaselly little reptile. Prontikk’s ability to talk his way out from under six feet of wet duracrete would mean he’d be fine…probably fine that is.

“Thank you,” Tara said, and then bobbed her head as the Tanluxi’s hand brushed across hers and gently placed the holovid down.

“Make sure you look after your friend,” Tanluxi said. The threat that lay underneath those words bobbed and weaved in bright, neon coloured lights. “You can come to me if you need any help. Figured I owe you. You just saved me from spending a lot of money on nothing.”

Besides him Prontikk seemed to fold into himself.

We all nodded hurriedly and backed away, trying to look as non-chalant as you can have that kind of interaction with one of the underworld’s main players.

“Aren’t you going to arrest him?” I asked Marcellan as we made our way as quickly as we could towards the exit.

“For what?” Marcellan asked. “Giving us what we need?” He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll send someone to pick up Prontikk though…or rather what’s left of him. Figure he’ll need some time in protective custody until he learns the errors of his ways.”

“Don't sell dodgy stuff to crime-lords?” I asked, momentarily confused.

“Do not try to sell fakes of holovids with a Jedi like Tara around,” Marcellan said, almost laughing. He walked ahead to where Tara was, threading her way between the tables as if she could see perfectly.

I dropped back to where Saelyra was walking. The Jedi was frowning slightly.

“I almost thought we were going to have to fight our way out,” I said, breathlessly. “That was quite a story that Tara came up with about her Father.”

Saelyra looked at me sharply.

“Who said it was a story?”

 

Oh Kit'. I just binge-read this instead of putting my children to bed. I hope you're proud of yourself!

I've always wanted to write a noir story and never could figure out the tone, but you had it right from the very first sentence:

Just an awesome beginning. Being already familiar with Tara and Saelyra it took me a few more lines to understand who the narrator was, but I was already hooked. I told you in another review how much I love Saelyra (and I haven't forgotten that I owe you a review on The Archivist's Shadow) but I think that Nyx just displaced her as my favourite OC of 2023.

I could pretty much quote the whole thing, what with Nyx's introduction of the two Jedi, her side comments about the Order ("lightsaber first, ask questions later"), her asides about her job ("I don’t always deal with the lighter side of the law"), her not-so-flattering thoughts about the Coruscant police ("the beer-bellied bludgers that normally hung out on the lower levels of Coruscant"), her references to her clients ("I could let my current clutch of anxious, wealthy parents from Coruscant’s Upper Class know exactly who it was that their precious, darling, and predominantly idiotic, children were currently in love with"), her snide description of the pub ("It was a lie of course; The Drunken Nerf hadn’t had dancing girls for years and the alcohol definitely wasn’t cheap") and so on and so forth. In the first chapter there was also the priceless interaction with Jocxter about her drinking tab and I loved how it's a recurring thing that resurfaces in conversations every now and then.

Chapter 2 also has its fair share of highlights, but for the sake of completing this review before my husband drags me out of my chair for dinner I'm going to mention just a couple of them.

The first bit that was sheer perfection was Nyx discovering little by little what a Jedi like Tara can and cannot do, all this intermingled with flirting-that-isn't-flirting-or-maybe-it-is. I fist-pumped when Tara said that she knew the Togruta at the entrance had stared at her cleavage for less long than Nyx; it was such a great way to let us know how aware she is of her surroundings. And of course, the mind-trick with Senator Valandria!

The second bit is how you handled the reveal that the Kammris Falcon is fake. I'd assumed as much from the name alone (I'm almost puzzled that there isn't a character named Sam Spade in this story ) but having Tara figure it out not through the Force but through her knowledge of holo-romance was a stroke of genius. It was a neat touch to have Nyx mention "Blade of Adventure" early on in the chapter; little did she know that Tara probably drew inspiration from its cover for her outfit! And the entire scene was perfect, from Nyx's roleplay as a vapid socialite to Prontikk's far-fetched lies that sounded themselves like something straight out of a Harlequin novel ("This holocron contains secrets that threaten the very existence of the Order" )

And the third bit, OF COURSE, is the trail of breadcrumbs you left for us to figure out when this takes place in Tara's search for Davin until the final reveal: there's the fact that she's running this investigation with Saelyra, although I initially assumed that she was training as a Shadow now or that Davin was still in recovery, the way she flinches the first time Nyx touches her, etc, etc, until she gets emotional when she speaks of her "father" and I realised that this takes place while Davin is still missing. And this ending:

MY HEART!

My guesses for what happens next is that the "real" Falcon is somehow connected to Davin's abduction and that the investigation is still on, if nothing else because:

This is an unusual setup indeed, and I can't wait to see where this story goes!

 

Hmm a story about Tara and her father. What will happen next?

 

Oh no! Saelyra is already giving Nyx side eye and this is only going to make it worse! I'm really glad that you like Nyx though, she's been very fun to write.

Um...maybe? I mean as someone else who's also neglected childcare duties (not in a dangerous way mind you) to read stuff, I totally understand...although I'm not sure I should say that anywhere near my own partner...

Aww, thank you! I'm so glad you liked that part. Poor Nyx. It was also nice giving Tara some room to breathe and have a little bit of fun after all the events of Archivist's Shadow and before!

Actually...that wasn't going to be the case until this comment. It was originally just supposed to be two little chapters (to be even fairer, originally it was supposed to be a one post, one-shot but Nyx was having none of that) and then your comment meant that what was supposed to be a tiny epilogue got rewritten so that now it all works together.

Thank you for your amazing comment too! I think I've read and re-read it about five times now. It's made my entire week

Ahh, what happens next (after this next chapter) is for another story. I mean we all know Tara eventually finds Davin, it's just a question of how she and Saelyra get all the right information to get there! Thanks for the comment

 

Chapter 3 - Dusty Old Promises

The moment I walked into The Drunken Nerf and saw her sitting at the table, my heart started racing. The tan and white robes were back, a far cry from the outfit she’d worn the last time I’d seen her. She was nursing one of the better beers that Jocxter had to offer. I’d just come back from handing over a rather fat package of incriminating holos of a prominent business woman’s husband getting rather frisky with the hired help. It had also meant that I’d had to spend the last hour comforting her as she oscillated between rage and tears. Normally I dumped and ran; patting someone on the back while whispering that it would all be okay was never my strong suit. Mostly because I wanted to point out that it wasn’t going to be okay for a while, and that this is what they got for marrying a man more interested in their money than their personality. However, she hadn’t paid her last cheque, and so I’d hung around until she’d gathered herself enough to sign over the credits.

Now I had a head and was certainly not in the mood to play games; particularly not after the last time I’d had to deal with the Jedi.

I swung my leg over the back of the chair and sat down, grinning.

//Still hot, even in Jedi robes// I tried to make my thoughts as loud as I could, and watched Tara glance up at me, her cheeks colouring.

“My bar tab is paid off,” I said, trying to keep my demeanour more in keeping with the embittered P.I I was supposed to be and not the squealing, blushing teenager that was desperate to burst forth at the sight of her crush. “You found the Falcon, or rather you discovered that the Falcon is just some weird homage to old romance holos. Didn’t think I would see you again.”

“I’m actually here to ask for your help,” Tara asked, taking a sip of her drink. She scrunched her nose slightly. I sympathised. Jocxter’s ideas of better beer was, to most humanoids with functioning taste buds, still the equivalent of drinking raw bantha urine. The only upside was that the longer you drank at Jocxter’s the less likely it was that your taste buds would continue to function.

“My help?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. Unlike her mentor, Tara had been noticeably absent from the barrage of Jedi who’d decided this was their second home. “Need help reshelving books. Not sure about where exactly to put the last copy of 101 Things To Do With The Force .”

Tara winced. “The Falcon is real,” she said quickly, putting a hand over mine, which was resting on the edge of the table. She smiled nervously, almost as if she were trying to convince herself that she didn’t want to leave. My heart leapt and my mind went blank.

“It was fake,” I finally managed. “It was just holofakes.”

Tara shook her head. “No, that one was fake,” she said, frowning. She took her hand from mine to take another sip of her beer. For a second I was jealous of the glass. Tara made a face and put the glass down. “You’d think I’d learn,” she said, scrunching her nose up.

“Hmm, is being able to deal with the taste of substandard alcohol not on the Jedi curriculum?” I asked, and watched the small flicker of a smile play about her face.

“Going back to what I said before, I have a favour to ask you,” Tara said, and my heart sank a little at the bluntness of it all. “I need your help to find the real Falcon”

“The real Falcon? No offence,” I said, hating myself for the way my brain always and instantly found the problem in any situation. “But you’re a padawan. Shouldn’t this request come from someone higher up? I mean, I figured the whole working with me was a request from Marcellan because he owes me. I don’t think you really needed me, not when you consider how many resources you tower-dwellers have access to.”

Tara sighed. There were a few moments where the fingers of one hand traced along the back of her hand. I frowned slightly when I realised that she never touched any of the scars that clung to her like tattered spiderwebs. “Master Saelyra said you might say that.”

“Then why isn’t she here asking me?”

“Because she pointed out that if she asked you, you’d probably say no.”

I made a face. “She’s probably right.”

There was a long silence. I managed to get Jocxter’s attention. He scowled at me. I motioned to the top shelf above the bar. His scowl grew more ferocious.

“Your bar tab is not that big Nyx,” he said, when he finally arrived and plonked the bottle and two glasses down. “Unless you’re showing off again.”

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t have to show off if you hadn’t sold the Jedi here, one of your ‘back of house beers’ that is older than I am,” I shot back. “It’s a good way to end up a foot shorter and without a hand.”

“She hasn’t complained the last four times she’s come in and waited for you,” Jocxter replied.

“You’ve come in and waited for me?” I asked, turning to Tara and completely ignoring the barkeep who walked off grumbling. “Why would you do that?”

She blushed again and I found my chest tightening as I waited for her response. “Because,” Tara managed, reaching out and unscrewing the top of the new bottle. “I really do need your help finding my Master.”

“Saelyra-” I started.

“She isn’t my Master,” Tara said, pouring herself a drink. I noticed how much her hand shook. I reached out and took the bottle gently from her.

“Let me do that,” I offered.

“You’re only offering because I’m blind,” Tara said, and from a glimpse of a smile I could tell that she was trying for a joke.

“I’ve seen what you can do blind,” I answered. “If you bet Jocxter that you could stand on the bar juggling chainsaws after drinking two bottles of his worst brandy, I’d happily put credits on you,” I finished pouring and pushed the now full glass across to her before picking up my own. “Which again begs the question of why you need my help.”

“You are very good at what you do,” Tara said.

“Flattery will get you many places,” I countered. I didn’t know why I was being so obstinate, particularly with the obvious temptation that this would mean I could spent more time with the Jedi. A concept I'd never thought I'd be tempted to contemplate. Although, and to be fair, it wasn't the Jedi in general, rather it was this specific Jedi. “However, what I said about the Jedi and their access to resources is correct. Unless this is some cry for help to escape a future full of dusty books.”

“The Falcon is real,” Tara said, ignoring my jibe. “It’s an ancient holocron that talks about how anyone with even the barest of force-sensitivities can learn to heal themselves. I encountered someone who was trying to make it work…” she paused and tipped the entire shot of alcohol back. She put the glass down on the table and pushed it towards me. I refilled it. Tara took a long, shuddering breath and closed her eyes. I said nothing. “If I can track the movements of that original holocron, then I can maybe find the man who did this to me.” She slammed back the next shot and I refilled her glass again. “And I can find my Master.”

Any jibe or flippant quip died on my lips when I saw the pain in her face. I winced, hating myself for my next question.

“And my part?”

“You can get me places that I can’t go as a Jedi. For some strange reason, I trust you. Even though I know you don’t believe in it, the Force is telling me that you are the key to this all. Between you and Saelyra, I know I will be able to find the Falcon. I have to believe that it’s the missing piece in finding Master Dor.”

I reached across the table and folded her fingers into mind. She tensed for a second too long and then relaxed.

“I’ll do it,” I said, trying to ignore the churn in my belly that told me this was a very bad idea. There was a still, silent moment and then Tara breathed out, and I could see the way the tension eased from her shoulders.

“Thank you,” Tara said, smiling in a way that made my heart skip a beat for entirely different reasons. She reached out and refilled my glass. “And by the way,” she said quietly. “I quite like the smell of dusty old books.

 

yes and now find Dor and the holocron. Maybe Tara can be healed

 

So I prompted you to write more fics in this storyline??? *does a happy little dance*

This was a lovely ending to this section of the story with all the callbacks to the events of previous chapters.

I especially liked how this opening mirrored the first chapter of this fic – and then with the reveal that Tara has come to the Drunken Nerf several times to wait for Nyx, I kind of began to wonder which one of the two is trouble for the other! The non-flirting has gone up a notch now, but we also see that Nyx is actually paying attention to Tara (for instance noticing that she won't touch her scars) while Tara is opening up to some extent. From what I've seen of her in your other stories dealing with her abduction and torture, this isn't something she'd do for gain, so she must feel a true sense of trust towards Nyx to not only recruit her but also speak about her pain, if indirectly.

Let me say again how happy I am that you're taking the story in this direction. I'm really invested in this cast of characters now that I read the entire series about Tara and Davin's abduction and Nyx is an awesome addition to the crew. Please tag me when you post the sequel/midquel, I don't want to miss it!

 

A+ chapter title.

The name Drunken Nerf is absolutely perfect, tells you everything you need really.

Nyx has definitely seen her share of scraps based on this, and I like that we get little hints here and there of the life she's had so far -- pretty difficult and with a fair few secrets, from the sound of it.

This is just such a good line -- so serious (in Nyx's mind) and absurd at the same time.

An unusual cross-section of the Jedi to have met; guessing this has to do with her work.

Liked this explanation of her concerns about working with the Jedi -- it does make a lot of sense that she'd see it as potentially iffy because of these fundamental conflicts in how they operate.

Interesting that in spite of Nyx's protestations of moral ambiguity, she actually does pick her contacts based on their ethics in at least some cases. It's nifty that we get to see there is a whole history of cooperation between her and Marcellan that just happens to intersect with this case.

Somehow I get the sense that chasing after the whereabouts and social calendar of said wayward offspring is not Nyx's favorite part of the job.

Yeah, generally just not the best approach -- especially with Jedi!

Wow, not even cheap drinks. The scandal!

Yeah, probably better to avoid contact with surfaces in general it sounds like.

I love that that's the story that apparently goes around in Nyx's social circles. Especially since I can think of a few Jedi for whom it would probably be 100% true (AKA Yoda's entire lineage).

"Hutts on Hoth" is a wonderful phrase!

Now, I can definitely believe that. Though it's easy to see why Nyx wouldn't, if she's used to only seeing Jedi (that she knows are Jedi anyway) run in with sabers blazing.

Well, I can think of one reason! Okay, maybe two if you count the fact that Nyx is a bit less mercenary than she likes to present herself. And perhaps three for good old intuition (or is it only that...)

It's nifty to get a little insight into why Nyx is in the business she's in.

 

Eventually...as she gets older she has longer good stretches, and her eventual padawans and the whole thing as an Earth Talker help, but it's still there lurking in the background.

Who says it's a story I think I'm going to have to write some more Tara and Davin snippets to show the true depth of their ridiculous familial love (storge I think is it's classical name) and the relationship between the two - and then with Davin and Saelyra too...

I mean you never know with Jedi about how much is true...when everything can be true from a certain point of view

Eventually, it's definitely important and it goes a long way towards explaining what happened to Tara and Davin in universe (as opposed to the fact that I just, apparently, like inflicting maximum angst).

That makes two of us...

Falling in love (lust) a complicating factor??? Never I mean that's always worked out so well for Tara and her little cohort of friends (Taeyn, Namia and Qui-Gon)

Thank you! Thank you also for reading and for the lovely comment

Yay! You did...although if my current speed is anything to go by, it may take some time.

Why not both?

Nyx is quite a good detective when she's not entirely discombobulated by an attractive Jedi and too much alcohol...and showing off...which she does a lot

You're right - when it comes to what happened to her, Tara doesn't open up to anyone - that way lies trouble and pain as far as she's concerned.

I'm so glad that you've read it all. I'm going to have to put together a proper list of all the weird stories that follow all my various OCs so that people can just find that and then follow a character from beginning to end, although it's a ridiculously large job that one!

Thank you. It's the line that started it all (literally and figuratively)

Those hints get more numerous as the chapters progress - and you may end up with your own idea of who Nyx is and which sphere of society she really belongs to...

Thanks! It's one of my favourite lines I've ever written

She's very ethical...if you only consider her own set of personal ethics

Definitely not! She's a bit based on Veronica Mars and so that was a hang over from all the Veronica Mars episodes I've seen.

I mean they taste cheap...

At this point in time I think Obi-wan is still in the creche...so it's only cleaning up after Qui-Gon that Marcellan would have to worry about. I imagine that by the time Anakin comes along, Marcellan has quite a few grey hairs that are purely caused by Yoda's disaster lineage

Thanks for reading and for the lovely and very funny comments - much appreciated

 

Excellently twisty plot where the Holocron is a fake but there's a genuine one out there which will help find Dor and perhaps heal Tara.