The Road Not Taken

[VVVVVV]

Naboo. Space port.

The transaction was done. Guns for food. Four containers out, two containers in. The food was nothing special, really just a few different types of ration packs. The guns weren't anything special either, Poe supposed. A lot of them were probably old, and had probably been misused and underused, and were probably in need of repair as a result. The farmers supposed all that as well. Four for two. All on Naboo. Who would have thought?

The deal was good, Poe knew they needed the food more than they need the guns. Not everyone agreed. Yann was ever the dissenter, of course. Krussk and Alan also made their reservations known. If my father had announced this trade, they wouldn't have said a thing. Poe was not his father, he knew, but their questioning still stung.

The newly minted aliit'alor stood supervising his sisters and cousins inventory the ration packs before they stored it on their barge. In truth, Poe's mind was elsewhere. It was on the Chiss he and Tross had met earlier. It was ever occupied.

 

[Noire]

Haruun didn't like it.

The ever grumpy Bounty Hunter did not like Naboo one bit. Personally, the pretentious people that all seemed to populate every damn nook and cranny of the planet just wasn't his cup of brew. Although, truthfully, if he was ever honest with himself long enough to admit it he did quite approve of the scenery. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the simpler things in life, rather that he enjoyed the harsh realities of it far more. He rested in a chair in the spaceport, arms folded and eyes squinted, as he observed the happenings of a trade. There was a man beside him, a Rodian, though Haruun wasn't at all focused on the conversation and hardly listened to the random musings of the smuggler. At this distance, he couldn't hear what was being said nor could he hardly see what was being bought and traded, though he would have bet his life that he'd seen weaponry.

In a child's hands, he muttered to himself. But Haruun wouldn't underestimate the long figure he saw standing over and supervising the workers as they loaded up the barge with supplies. The boy didn't strike the bounty hunter as lazy in any way; if anything, he seemed to command an air of confidence about himself. However, he didn't for one second take the child as more than that just that; a confident child. What use did he have for weaponry? Haruun stood, dusting off his trousers as he did so, and, with a complete and utter disregard for the Rodian, began to walk over to the barge.

 

[VVVVVV]

Poe spotted the man walking towards his barge almost immediately. "Teren, Nevan," he called to his cousins. "Head inside." They did as he beckoned. "Meven, tell Krussk I need him out here. You stay inside." His youngest sister scurried inside, while his eldest, Melan, met eyes with him. She knew his plan without a word ever being said.

As the stranger inched towards Poe and Melan, the young aliit'alor studied him as best he could. The stranger was tall, his skin dark and rich, and his swagger familiar. He couldn't place it, but Poe knew he recognized something about the stranger. Shrugging it off, he moved to meet the man.

Inching past his sister, Poe settled in a strong stance. Waiting for the stranger, he wore his purple armor and had his silver hair, in a french braid, draped over his shoulder. Looking behind, he saw Krussk, dressed in his full Mandalorian armor, a blaster rifle slung around his shoulders, standing guard at the bottom of the barge's entrance ramp. Poe nodded at him, telling him to stay there.

When the stranger got close, Poe called out a greeting. "My name is Poe. This is my sister, Melan."

Soon, representatives from the Lebey'ak Collective would arrive, a few farmers, and probably a few more guards, and Krussk stood guard just a few feet behind Poe and his sister. They would not be in want of additional protection, Poe hoped, eyeing the stranger.

 

[Noire]

To say that Haruun was not the least bit interested in the child's sister would be a gross understatement; he couldn't have any less than he already did about the boy's sibling or any other family members that might have been walking around for that matter. They simply were not the reason that he had decided to approach the trade in progress. However, the armored individual that stood alert at the foot of the barge's entrance ramp did. The armor that the man, or possibly woman, wore was distinctly Mandalorian and it didn't take a trained eye to realize such a fact. But Haruun was not impressed by the armor nor the blaster rifle that was slung over the figure's shoulders; there were a lot of fakes - a lot of shameless pretenders - in the galaxy who claimed to be Mandalorian. But that's all they ever were. Shameless pretenders. And nothing could ever change his mind about that.

Haruun nodded, acknowledging Poe's introduction, but decided to hold his tongue and remain silent as he peered about their surroundings for a moment. Then, slowly, he turned his head back toward the child. He inspected his armor, briefly shaking his head with the slightest of smirks, and then very slowly asked, "What's going on here?" Haruun didn't offer his own name as Poe had, nor did he even bother with a shred of common decency to introduce himself in any other manner. The question was straightforward; frank, yet not spoken with a tone that would frighten the boy.