After a bit of asking around and covertly searching for a proper source of information, we ended up in a tapcaf called the Oilchange.
The cantina itself reeked of stale drinks, the retched smell of spice being smoked, and the ever-present stench of desperation following it from those who inhaled its fumes. The space was crammed, and the dim, flickering glow panels barely lit up the cracked leather booths and rusted metal tables around the tapcaf, where a mix of smugglers, bounty hunters, and lowlife scum nursed their drinks between their hands, claws, paws, whatever they had.
I have never been to a place like this, but I didn't let it show. As for Vila? I could feel that she was used to the air, which was thick with the smell of burnt circuitry and the faint metallic undertone of spilled blood that no cleaning could fully erase from a place like this. I even noticed her lekku twitch in a certain rhythm.
Probably because the cantina's background noise was filled with the rhythmic thrum of a half-functional jukebox blaring out an old Twi'lek ballad, as far as I could gather. Many times, it was punctuated by the occasional outburst of wild laughter or the clatter of credits exchanging hands over a high-stakes sabacc game we passed by. No wonder we were pointed to this tapcaf, as I could feel it oozing from everyone around me that no one asked questions about what was happening in there—unless they were looking for trouble.
In the end, we occupied a booth near the back, our expressions remaining neutral as Vila ordered something to drink, but only after one sip did I have enough of it. Stale blood tasted better than... whatever this was. Well, the drink was only the clue, anyway. Not for us but for the broker, who we were told would come to see us. We just had to ask for the right drink.
Sure enough, ten minutes later, a new face joined us at the table.
Across from me, a devaronian man lounged leisurely, introducing himself yet not, never mentioning his name. Not that we gave him ours, either... Focusing, I could feel the straightforward confidence coming from him, being someone who believed he controlled every conversation that he was a part of. His horns gleamed under the cantina lights, and his sharp teeth flashed with every smug grin, enjoying the fact that he had what we wanted... And he could ask for anything in return. For a start, we let him submerge in the thought, so he had been talking for a while, his words dripping with the oily charm of a hutt's dinner.
"Small galaxy, eh?" He suddenly said something that shocked me so much that I couldn't keep my face from reacting... "Didn't expect to run into a Valtherion outside of Iskandor." He tapped the rim of his glass, the sound of his nails as sharp and deliberate as they could be.
How? I wanted to ask... But I knew that my reaction had already confirmed his words, even if I hurriedly changed my expression. As for Vila, she also raised an eyebrow, even though he knew of my past. It was just that we had never really talked about it since then.
No matter, that wasn't important now. We both knew that the devaronian was fishing for clues, and that meant he knew some things but wasn't sure of our origin or if he could divulge them to us... But if he recognized me, did that mean someone from my family was involved?
While I was in thought, HK, waiting to step in and translate when needed, stood a few paces away, remaining silent and unmoving, as if merely waiting for instructions. Still... Even from the corner of my eyes, I saw how his photoreceptors glowed faintly, scanning the room with calculated precision, ready for a fight.
"You have something for me?" I asked calmly, not denying his previous assumption.
"Do I? Or do you have something for me?" The devaronian swirled his drink lazily while asking back the same question.
"What if I tell you that not everybody at home is fully on the same page."
"Big family. It happens." He nodded, eyeing me. "Branches of royalty, eh?"
"Something like that. Every son has his own ideas." I said with a somewhat much colder voice than I wanted to, something that Vila picked up on, looking at me with apparent curiosity.
"Information is not cheap."
"Do my family lack funds? Is that how you know us?" I shot back, pulling out a credit chit with all the money that I had saved up since I followed my Master around and throwing it at him. Seeing the amount on it, he considered it for a moment, but luckily, I felt that he was pleased with the amount... for now.
"You see, I keep my ears open." He began, pocketing the credit chit. "A few cycles back, I helped arrange a rather delicate introduction. If I recall, one party was... Unal? Umar..."
"Umbral." I blurted out without thinking, seeing his eyes flash. I realized he was just further testing me, confirming he got me right. Well, he did. Umbral was one of the codenames my older brother used when dealing with bounty hunters... The fact that this man recognized my features means he personally knew my family or had dealt with them. Tsk...
"Yes... that was it." He muttered, smiling again, raising his mug.
"What was the deal about?" Vila asked, leaning back leisurely, crossing her legs with a half-smile, drawing the man's eyes to her thighs.
"Oh, it was a real hush-hush deal." He continued, moving his eyes away, and after a few more seconds, he went back to me. "I contacted my client to the Imperials. Your family seemed very interested in what they had to offer."
"Do we know what they had to offer?" I pressed on.
"Oh, no, no." He laughed, playing the innocent, "But I am sure my clients had some very peculiar artifacts. Something that would easily draw the attention of a Jedi."
"Such as?" Vila snorted, rolling her eyes, "Did they steal lightsabers?"
"Maybe." The devorian nodded, saying no more.
"..." My money was running dry, it seemed... He began avoiding our further questions, saying he knew nothing more, which was just a different way of asking for another payment to continue our little discussion.
It was then, when I refused to produce another credit chit, something that he expected from a 'noble' like me, was when he began catching on that he was being duped. The moment it clicked in his brain, the devaronian's grin faltered for a moment, his amber-colored eyes narrowing as he studied my face. Then, he leaned back, his hand casually drifting toward the blaster at his side. I could feel the change in his feelings... Greed was replaced with a very particular feeling... the need for blood.
"Huh. You're not here on behalf of your family, are you?"
Of course, I didn't respond. The silence was enough. I was already thinking of how to deal with this without exposing ourselves to everyone else here with our lightsabers. The devaronian's hand twitched toward his blaster, getting ever so closer, but we still had time; the Force was on our side.
But HK-O1 moved first.
In a surprisingly fluid motion, the droid's servos whirred to life as he reached out, snatching the blaster from the holster of a passing rodian before the fool even knew it was gone. Without hesitation, he leveled the weapon straight between the devaronian's horns and pulled the trigger. There was no hesitation in his movements, and I was so surprised that I forgot to act. Or... was that just an excuse to myself? I... don't know. But Vila also let it happen... ahh... There was no time to debate about it... It was already too late.
A crimson bolt lanced across the table from HK's blaster. The devaronian showed his experience, only if a little, though. He had enough reflex in him to lurch backward before the shot was fired, but it only resulted in the fact that it burned through his chest instead of his head. His drink was still toppled, spilling over the table as he slumped against the booth, a look of sheer disbelief frozen on his face. Next, smoke curled from the charred hole in his tunic, mingling with the stale air of the tapcaf.
Looking around... the cantina went silent.
Then, chaos erupted. Patrons ducked for cover, some scrambling for their own weapons while others bolted for the exits, including the rodian whose blaster HK took away. I heard the bartender curse loudly while he reached for a hidden slug thrower beneath the counter. There was a trandoshan bounty hunter one table over to ours, ready to capitalize on the confusion, his clawed hand quickly stealing the pot from the sabacc while nobody was looking.
"..." Finishing surveying the place, I exhaled sharply. This was bad. I could feel that only a moment later, everybody would just start shooting. I had to do something. Especially because Vila's hands were already moving to fish out her lightsabers.
So, I stood up, stepping into the center of the chaos, and I let the Force ripple outward. I made it so that it remained subtle and controlled, carrying my thoughts and words, my voice calm and persuasive—unusually persuasive.
"No one saw anything. Just another drunken dispute. You don't want to get involved." I told them, connecting to their minds.
The bartender was the first who hesitated, his fingers still hovering near his weapon's trigger, almost pulling on it. Then his eyes glazed for a brief second, and he grumbled...
"Damn drunks. Always causing trouble, wrecking my place!"
"Ugh... yeah..." Nearby, the trandoshan blinked in confusion and slurred just the same way, "Yeah, just... drunk fight. Happens all the time."
Just a moment later, the tension in the cantina eased just as quickly as it had risen to its boiling point. Those who had considered escalating the fight to a massacre suddenly lost their interest, turning back to their drinks or hurrying out before any authorities, if this place had any, could show up. Another patron simply growled low in his throat but holstered his weapon, muttering something about 'wasted opportunities' as he stalked toward the exit.
"Nice job," Vila whispered, urging us to leave just the same before she stood up and gave HK a deadpan look. "Was that necessary?"
In response, HK-O1 simply inclined his head, his voice dripping with mock sincerity.
[Query: Was the meatbag attempting to kill you? Affirmative. Conclusion: Precautionary termination ensures optimal survival rate. Even sub-standard meatbags recognize the validity of my action.] He continued, still holding the blaster, not showing any signs of letting it go at all.
"We can discuss this later..." I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, having troubles with my own inactivity, being unable or maybe unwilling to stop HK from murdering him. "We need to go. Now. HK!"
"..."
"Drop it," I ordered him, making the droid stay still but only for a moment.
[Reluctant Acknowledgement: Yes. Master.]
Then, he tossed the stolen blaster onto the Ddvaronian's still-smoking corpse and strode after us as we slipped out into the neon-lit streets beyond the tapcaf. We had to find Master and find him fast... We just had a possible lead in our hands... one that I wasn't so sure I wanted to follow up with because the Force was telling me, and telling me clearly:
I would meet with people from my family... Something I wasn't really looking forward to.