Private Ash, Smoke, and Old Songs

[Rin Taal]

The ash came down softly tonight.

Not enough to close the roads or ground the haulers descending through the volcanic haze above Varonat, but enough to leave a fine layer of gray across the landing platforms and the shoulders of anyone stubborn enough to remain outside too long. It drifted past the cantina windows in slow sheets, illuminated red-orange whenever distant lava flow reflected against the low clouds hanging over the mining settlement.

Inside, the heat settled differently.

The cantina had been carved directly into old basalt, its dark stone walls sweating warmth from the volcanic veins beneath the settlement. Pipes hissed somewhere overhead every few minutes, releasing bursts of steam that carried the smell of mineral water, machine oil, sweet tabac, and too many exhausted bodies packed into one room after shift change.

Rin sat near the back corner rather than the center of the floor, where the light stayed lower and the noise never fully reached. The owner preferred it that way; travelers stayed longer when the music felt discovered instead of performed at them.

A small stringed instrument rested against her knee, worn smooth along the edges from years of travel and weather. Her fingers moved across it without hurry, coaxing out an old Veradune melody soft enough to blend into conversation rather than dominate it. Most of the room didn't know the song, but they still listened sideways—miners hunching over drinks gone warm while pretending not to pay attention, and mercenaries keeping their eyes on sabacc hands that had stopped moving several rounds ago. Even a pair of freighter pilots near the entrance had gone unusually quiet halfway through her second song, though neither seemed aware they had done it.

That happened sometimes. Rin never pushed for attention, and somehow, that lack of demand was exactly what made people offer it anyway.

Outside, another transport screamed overhead through the ash clouds before the sound faded back into the constant, distant rumble of industry and magma flow. The windows vibrated faintly with it, but nobody reacted; Varonat only belonged to people who had learned to live beside pressure.

Rin's eyes drifted lazily across the room while she played, more out of habit than curiosity. Years spent wandering worlds like this taught a person to notice things quietly—who watched exits, who drank too fast, and which arguments were turning dangerous before voices ever rose. A table near the far wall carried the sharp-edged tension of people already regretting each other's company, while another group looked too clean for miners and too disciplined for smugglers. Armed, though. Definitely armed.

None of it felt immediate, so Rin just kept playing.

The next melody shifted slower and older, carrying the low, aching warmth of distant forests and open skies far removed from volcanic stone and sulfur air. It reminded her of Veradune at dusk, when the wind moved through the canopy in long breaths, and everything smelled alive after rain. For a moment, the cantina seemed to soften around her—not falling entirely silent, but simply leaning in to listen.

Zarrah Vex

 

[Zarrah Vex]

Objective: Try to relax in the course of a mission
Location: Cantina, Varonat
Attire: Cantina Drifter Outfit
Tag: Rin Taal

Ash drifted past the cantina windows like a slow funeral, but inside, Zarrah Vex was very much alive—and working. She stood near the bar at first, half-turned into the room, a glass she hadn’t bothered to drink from resting lightly between her fingers. Her presence was deliberate without being loud, the kind of attention that grew rather than demanded. Conversations bent toward her in small increments, a comment here, a quiet agreement there—threads of sentiment woven carefully.

“Funny thing about Sith,” she murmured to a pair of off-shift haulers beside her, voice pitched low enough to feel like confidence rather than declaration. “They never build anything that lasts without breaking something first. People. Worlds. Doesn’t matter which.”

A scoff from one of them. Agreement from the other. Zarrah didn’t press. She never did. You didn’t force a fire—you fed it. She let the idea linger, stepping away before it could become a speech, before anyone could decide to challenge it outright. Let them carry it. Let it spread. That was the work.

It was the music that caught her next. Not at first—not consciously. It slipped in under everything else, threading through the murmur of voices and the hiss of pipes until something in her stilled. Her head tilted slightly, attention sharpening as the melody shifted.

Recognition came like a quiet strike to the chest. Zorren. Not imitation. Not something borrowed or half-remembered. Real. Zarrah exhaled softly, something in her posture easing in a way that had nothing to do with the room and everything to do with distance—distance from Veradune, from familiar skies, from the kind of air that didn’t taste like ash and industry.

“Well now…” she muttered to herself, the faintest hint of a smile touching her lips. Her path changed without hesitation. She moved through the cantina with an ease that came from long practice—never jostling, never drawing the wrong kind of attention, slipping between tables and shoulders until she found a place closer to the source. Not directly in front. Not yet. Close enough to listen properly. Close enough to feel it.

The next melody settled into her like memory—dusk through the canopy, wind through leaves, the quiet hum of a world that didn’t need to shout to be alive. For a few moments, Zarrah didn’t work the room, didn’t measure exits or alliances or leverage. She just listened. When the song finally came to its natural end, Zarrah was already moving.

A small credit chit slid from her fingers with practiced ease, placed gently where it would be seen without interrupting the moment. Her gaze settled on the musician now, sharper, more curious than before. “Didn’t expect to find Veradune this far out,” she said, voice low but warm, carrying just enough familiarity to test the waters. “Not like that.”

Her eyes flicked briefly to the instrument, then back up, studying Rin properly now. “Zorren,” she added, not a question. Zarrah didn’t wait for permission before easing into a nearby seat, turning just enough to face her without crowding the space.

“Keep playing,” she said, a faint, knowing smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “It’s been a while since I’ve heard something worth staying for.” And for once, in a room thick with ash, tension, and quiet agendas—She meant it.

​

 

[Rin Taal]

Rin noticed her long before the woman reached the table.

Not because she was loud. Quite the opposite. The loud ones on worlds like Varonat were rarely dangerous unless they wanted something immediate. This one moved with purpose instead of volume, and the room shifted around her in subtle ways that Rin's instincts picked up almost automatically. Conversations bent when she passed. Attention followed without realizing it. The kind of presence people either learned from or regretted underestimating.

Still, Rin kept playing. Her fingers moved steadily across the worn strings while the stranger approached, though her amber eyes lifted briefly beneath the warm cantina light the moment recognition settled fully into place. Zorren. Not full-blooded, but enough that Rin caught it immediately in the shape of her features, the glow of her eyes, the cadence beneath her voice that Veradune never quite let people lose, no matter how far they wandered.

That alone softened something in Rin's otherwise guarded expression.

The small credit chit earned a quiet flick of her gaze downward before she looked back up at the woman now seated nearby. A faint curl touched one corner of her mouth, restrained but genuine.

"Pleasant surprise finding another Zorren this far south," Rin said, her voice low and roughened slightly by dust, smoke, and years spent speaking more often outdoors than in crowded rooms. "Especially one that recognized the songs."

Her tail shifted once behind the chair in a slow, thoughtful motion before settling again.

At the comment about fitting in, Rin let out the faintest breath of amusement and tilted her head slightly, amber eyes catching the volcanic glow filtering through the cantina windows.

"Varonat's not the kind of place where unusual eyes make the top of someone's concerns," she replied dryly.

The half-smile lingered a moment longer before her attention dropped back to the instrument resting against her knee. Her fingers adjusted along the neck slowly, thoughtfully, as though considering something.

Then she began to play again. This tune was older.

Older than the last one by enough that even many on Veradune likely would not recognize it anymore. The melody carried less warmth and more distance to it, shaped by long roads, canyon winds, hidden fires, and nights where survival mattered more than sleep. It was the kind of song travelers carried between settlements when maps could no longer be trusted, and history survived only because someone stubborn enough remembered the words.

The room quieted again, though this time Rin paid it less attention.

Instead, her gaze drifted briefly back toward Zarrah between notes, measuring her differently now. Not as another stranger passing through Varonat, but as someone carrying pieces of home into a place where neither of them should reasonably have found it.

"This one's older," she said softly over the melody. "My father used to say half the worlds that remembered it are gone now."

The song continued after that, low and steady beneath the hiss of steam pipes and volcanic rain against basalt outside, carrying something ancient and stubbornly alive through the ash-thick air of Varonat.

Zarrah Vex

 

[Zarrah Vex]

Objective: Try to relax in the course of a mission
Location: Cantina, Varonat
Attire: Cantina Drifter Outfit
Tag: Rin Taal

The corner of Zarrah's mouth lifted slightly. "Rare enough," she agreed. Her gaze drifted briefly around the cantina before returning to Rin. Varonat was the sort of place where people from a hundred worlds crossed paths for a few days before disappearing back into hyperspace. Even so, finding another Zorren here felt unlikely. Finding one playing songs from home felt nearly impossible.

When Rin mentioned unusual eyes not attracting attention, Zarrah gave another small nod. "A useful trait for our people." The smile lingered. "Though I'm not actually here to avoid attention."

Her amber-gold eyes glimmered with quiet amusement. "Quite the opposite, really." A pause followed as she considered the room around them. Armed travelers. Miners. Pilots. Drifters. The sort of place where information traveled quickly and often reached ears it shouldn't. "But announcing exactly why I'm here tends to complicate things."

That was putting it mildly. The United Protectorate had friends in some sectors and enemies in others. Anti-Sith sentiment was easy enough to find in the Outer Rim these days, but organizing it into something useful was another matter entirely. There were always listeners. Always informants. And Varonat did not strike her as a world where discretion was optional.

Before the conversation could travel further, Rin's fingers found the next melody. Zarrah settled back in her chair and listened. The first few notes drew a faint furrow into her brow. Not because she disliked it. Because she didn't know it. That realization surprised her.

She knew the songs sung around Veradune's fires. The marching chants of the old militias. The ballads carried by merchants and settlers between distant communities. This one sat outside all of those memories. Yet something about it felt familiar all the same. Not the melody. The shape of it. The stubbornness. The way it seemed built to survive being forgotten.

Her eyes remained on the musician while the ancient tune wound through the cantina. Steam hissed overhead. Ash tapped softly against the windows. Somewhere near the bar, a conversation died away as listeners unconsciously leaned closer.

"My mother never taught me that one," Zarrah admitted quietly after a time. Her voice remained low so as not to intrude on the music. "But I can hear Veradune in it."

She glanced toward the instrument. "Strange how that works." The smile returned, softer now. "Even when the song's older than memory, some part of it still sounds like home."

And so she fell silent again. For once, she wasn't measuring alliances or weighing political opportunities. She wasn't considering recruitment prospects or the next speech she would need to give. She simply listened. The ancient melody deserved that much.

​

 

[Rin Taal]

Rin listened while she played, not because she was trying to judge the woman sitting across from her, but because years of wandering had taught her that people always revealed more when they spoke around a subject rather than directly at it. The mention of not avoiding attention earned the faintest twitch of amusement at one corner of her mouth, though her hands never faltered across the strings. That much she had already guessed; people who truly wished to disappear carried themselves entirely differently, making themselves smaller, softer, and actively avoiding the eye even when standing completely still. Zarrah possessed none of those defensive habits, instead carrying herself like someone entirely accustomed to being noticed and perfectly comfortable with whatever consequences followed.

The tune continued to wind through the cantina, its old notes rising and falling beneath the constant hiss of steam pipes and the distant, heavy rumble of Varonat's volcanic industry outside. Rin let the music carry the weight of the silence for a long moment before finally responding.

"No," she said quietly, her gaze remaining fixed on the worn neck of her instrument. "You don't strike me as someone who spends much time hiding."

The observation carried no judgment. If anything, there was a low note of respect buried beneath her quiet delivery. Her fingers shifted through another passage of the melody, slowing the tempo to allow the song room to breathe. When Zarrah admitted she didn't recognize the piece, Rin's expression softened into a look of quiet familiarity.

"Most people don't," she answered easily. "My father learned it from his grandmother, and she learned it from someone else entirely. By the time it reached me, nobody back home could agree where it came from anymore." A quiet chuckle escaped her, a rare break in her guarded demeanor. "That's usually how you know a song is truly old. The history gets lost long before the melody does."

For a few moments, she simply let the music bridge the space between them. The tune carried none of the structured triumph found in the old militia marching songs, nor did it have the easy, comfortable familiarity of standard settlement ballads. It felt entirely older than both, something raw, built for endless roads, unpredictable nights, and uncertain destinations.

Eventually, her amber eyes lifted toward Zarrah once more.

"I think that's why the old songs survive. Not because people manage to remember every single word or verse, but because they carry a distinct feeling people recognize even after they've forgotten everything else."

Her gaze drifted briefly toward the heavy cantina windows, watching the dark ash continue to drift lazily beyond the thick glass.

"A specific place. A person. A fire you sat beside once." The small half-smile returned, faint but genuine. "Home, usually. Though I've found the further you travel from Veradune, the less certain that word becomes." There was no trace of sadness in the observation, only the grounded weight of experience.

With a practiced, sweeping strum, Rin brought the wandering road song to a lingering, resonant finish, letting the last chord bleed into the room's ambient hum. She didn't let the silence last long. Without breaking her rhythm, her fingers struck a new chord, heavier, sharper, and instantly changing the atmosphere around their table.

Where the first song had been a solitary traveler's lament, this one was primal and percussive, built on a driving, rhythmic cadence that felt woven directly into the ancient bones of their homeworld. It was just as aged as the last, but it carried the unmistakable weight of a melody known by heart to almost anyone who had ever set foot in the deep wilds of Veradune. It was the kind of music that demanded blood memory to hum along to.

"What brings you all the way to Varonat, then?" Rin asked, her voice easily cutting through the new rhythmic pulse of the strings. "Not many people from our side of the galaxy end up this deep in Sith space by accident."

The question was casual, but it wasn't idle. Rin was genuinely curious now, not simply because Zarrah shared her bloodline, but because the woman was proving to be entirely interesting.

Zarrah Vex

 

[Zarrah Vex]

Objective: Try to relax in the course of a mission
Location: Cantina, Varonat
Attire: Cantina Drifter Outfit
Tag: Rin Taal

Zarrah's smile widened slightly at Rin's assessment. "No," she admitted. "Hiding has never been one of my stronger talents."

There was a touch of amusement in her voice. The observation felt fair. Zarrah had spent far too much of her life standing at the front of rooms, speaking to crowds, negotiating with officials, or making herself visible when others would have preferred she disappear. She knew how to be discreet when necessary, but disappearing entirely had never suited her.

As Rin explained the song's origins—or lack thereof—Zarrah found herself nodding along. "That sounds about right."

Her gaze drifted toward the instrument. "The oldest things rarely survive because someone preserved them perfectly. They survive because enough people cared to pass them along." She thought briefly of stories told around fires on Veradune. Of customs nobody could fully explain anymore. Of traditions that existed simply because they always had.

When Rin spoke of old songs carrying feelings long after their histories vanished, Zarrah found herself listening as much to the woman as the music. "A place. A person. A fire." The place: Veradune, home but yet so far away. The person: Bri, much shorter lived than expected, someone Zarrah had to leave to that special memory. A fire: that was burning inside of Zarrah, to make the galaxy a safer, freer place.

The words lingered. "That may be the most Zorren thing I've heard in months." A soft laugh escaped her. The comment about home becoming less certain the farther one traveled earned a thoughtful expression. Zarrah looked down at her untouched drink for a moment.

"I know what you mean." She did. For years she had crossed borders, sectors, and entire regions of space. There were worlds she had spent more time on than Veradune itself. Yet hearing these songs had immediately pulled something buried deep within her to the surface.

Maybe home wasn't a place. Maybe it was recognition. The thought faded as Rin finished the wandering road song and shifted into something entirely different.

The new melody struck like a pulse. Zarrah's eyes widened ever so slightly. This one she knew. Not every note. Not every variation. But she knew it. Her foot tapped once against the floor without conscious thought. A grin appeared.

"There it is." The cadence felt ancient and familiar all at once. Something that belonged to forests older than memory and people who survived because stubbornness was written into their bones. She found herself enjoying it immediately.

Then came Rin's question. What brings you all the way to Varonat?

For a moment Zarrah simply listened to the rhythm. Then she leaned forward slightly. Not dramatically. Just enough. Her voice lowered. "Sith."

The single word carried enough weight by itself. Her eyes briefly swept the room before returning to Rin. "Our people are beginning to push back." She paused. "Not just defend ourselves. Not just survive."

A small smile touched her lips. "We're starting a resistance." The word sounded almost strange spoken aloud. "Going on the offensive for a change."

The rhythm of the song continued beneath the conversation. "I'm here to help prepare the ground." Her gaze drifted toward the miners, pilots, drifters, and laborers scattered throughout the cantina.

"Most people don't need much convincing that the Sith are bad news." A dry chuckle escaped her. "The trick is turning irritation into outrage."

She folded her hands loosely together. "Eventually someone stronger, louder, and carrying considerably more ships than I do will come through this region."

The smile became slightly more mischievous. "My job is making sure they're welcomed when they arrive." She settled back into her chair and let the music reclaim the space between them. "But that's the quiet version."

Her eyes glimmered with amusement. "The official version is that I'm a traveler enjoying local hospitality and excellent music." The grin broadened. "And if anyone asks, I was never here."

Despite the seriousness of the subject, her attention quickly returned to the song itself. The rhythm pulled at something instinctive within her, and for a few moments she simply listened again, allowing the music of home to fill a corner of Sith space where it had absolutely no business existing.

​

 

[Rin Taal]

Rin listened without interrupting, her fingers maintaining the rhythmic pulse of the song as naturally as breathing. The older melody carried on for a few moments after Zarrah finished speaking, its deep cadence weaving through the hiss of steam pipes and the thrum of distant machinery before gradually shifting into something newer. It was not new by most galaxy standards, but it was certainly new enough. The transition was smooth and almost invisible as the ancient tempo gave way to a tune that had spread across Veradune during the last couple of decades. This melody carried far more momentum than the previous ones, showing less concern with memory and focusing entirely on movement. It was precisely the sort of song people hummed while working rather than reminiscing, a piece Zarrah would almost certainly recognize.

Rin's fingers settled comfortably into the new rhythm while her gaze remained fixed on her instrument. "Ah, yes. This movement," she murmured, her voice carrying no judgment and no overt approval, offering nothing but quiet recognition. The song continued to build beneath her words as she added, "Word has reached me. I still have a few contacts back home." The statement was delivered entirely casually, as though she were discussing predictable weather patterns rather than the shifting political future of an entire people.

For a few moments, she simply played, allowing the steady rhythm to fill the space between them before finally lifting her amber eyes toward Zarrah. "You might find some interest here," she said thoughtfully, her gaze drifting briefly across the crowded cantina at the weary faces of miners, haulers, and pilots who worked hard and paid dearly for the privilege. "Varonat has never lacked for people with reasons to dislike the Sith, but if I were you, I'd suggest starting closer to the edge."

The observation came quietly as her fingers struck a sharper, more deliberate sequence of notes before settling back into the main melody. "The Blackwall still has holes to exploit. Look to the trade routes, the frontier settlements, and the places where people already feel forgotten." A slight tilt of her head followed, the warm lighting catching the edge of her expression. "The Sith have spent years convincing everyone that they are inevitable. You just need to keep looking for the people who never believed it."

The tune continued after that, remaining steady and confident beneath her hands. Rin did not press for specific details, nor did she ask for names or who was funding the effort. If Zarrah wanted to build an empire or an underground network, she would do it, and if she failed, no amount of advice from a wandering musician would save it anyway. Still, her gaze lingered on the other Zorren for a moment longer before she looked back down at the strings.

"Besides," she added dryly, a faint half-smile touching her lips as the music reclaimed the space around their table, "every resistance starts with somebody sitting in a dark cantina telling themselves they're only here for the music."

Zarrah Vex

 

[Zarrah Vex]

Objective: Try to relax in the course of a mission
Location: Cantina, Varonat
Attire: Cantina Drifter Outfit
Tag: Rin Taal

The shift in the music drew an immediate reaction. Recognition flashed across Zarrah's face before she could stop it. "There we are." A quiet laugh escaped her as the newer melody settled into the cantina.

Unlike the ancient songs, this one needed no explanation. She had heard it sung by workers repairing flood barriers, hummed by shuttle crews loading cargo, and played through speakers in settlements scattered across Veradune. It wasn't old enough to belong to history. It belonged to people still living.

Her fingers drummed lightly against her glass in time with the rhythm. When Rin mentioned hearing news of the movement back home, Zarrah's smile grew. "I'm relieved to hear that."

The movement was still young, still finding its feet, but hearing that word had spread beyond Veradune itself felt encouraging. It meant they were becoming difficult to ignore.

As Rin began offering advice, Zarrah listened carefully. Not politely. Seriously. The kind of attention one gave someone whose opinion had been earned. Her eyes followed Rin's brief glance around the cantina. Miners. Pilots. Haulers. People carrying exhaustion like an extra layer of clothing. The sort of people politicians often forgot existed until they needed votes, taxes, or bodies.

"The edge has always been where change starts." She nodded thoughtfully. "People living comfortably rarely risk everything." The observation carried no bitterness. Only experience.

The mention of the Blackwall earned another small nod. She had already been studying the cracks. Trade routes. Independent settlements. Communities that survived because they had learned to depend upon one another rather than distant governments. Places where Sith promises carried less weight than a neighbor's handshake.

"The forgotten are usually the first to notice when an empire starts rotting." Her gaze drifted briefly toward the ash-streaked windows. "And the first to realize it can bleed."

For a moment she sat quietly, listening to the steady confidence of the song. Then Rin delivered her final observation. Zarrah barked a genuine laugh. Not the polished sort she used in negotiations. A real one.

Several nearby patrons glanced over before returning to their drinks. "That may be the wisest thing I've heard all week." She shook her head.

"You're probably right." A grin lingered on her lips. "No one ever plans to start a rebellion." Her gaze swept across the cantina. The worn tables. The tired faces. The drifting ash beyond the windows.

"They just reach a point where continuing as they are becomes harder than changing things." The statement hung in the air for a moment before she relaxed back into her chair. Truthfully, she had not expected to find herself discussing the future of anti-Sith resistance with a fellow Zorren musician on a volcanic mining world buried deep in hostile territory.

Yet somehow it felt perfectly natural. Maybe that was what home really was. Not a place. People who understood your meaning before you finished speaking. The thought brought a small smile to her face. For several moments she simply listened to the music again, appreciating the way the newer melody carried the same stubborn spirit as the older songs while looking firmly toward the future instead of the past.

Eventually her eyes shifted back toward Rin. "You know," she said casually, "if this resistance business fails, I may have to recruit you anyway."

A mischievous glimmer appeared in her eyes. "Every movement needs someone capable of reminding people what they're fighting for." She lifted her glass slightly in salute. "And judging by tonight, you're already doing that better than most politicians."

​

 

[Rin Taal]

Rin's fingers never stopped moving across the strings, though the corner of her mouth twitched faintly at Zarrah's recruitment attempt. Before she could answer, a voice rose from a table near the bar, requesting Burning Road. The suggestion came from a broad-shouldered hauler nursing the remains of a drink, and several others nearby voiced their approval with easy warmth. Unlike the traditional Veradune pieces, this song belonged entirely to the spacers, miners, and freight crews who drifted between the Outer Rim worlds. It was familiar enough that half the room probably knew the chorus, even if none of them could remember who had originally written it.

Lifting an eyebrow, Rin let the old Zorren melody fade beneath her fingers as she shifted smoothly into the requested tune. The new song carried a stronger, driving beat that was easy to follow, capturing the exact kind of rhythm people sang loudly after a few drinks and a successful delivery. A few patrons relaxed visibly at the familiar chords, and someone near the back even started humming along. Rin let the song establish its comfortable presence in the room before finally looking back toward Zarrah, her expression soft but amused.

"Recruit me?" she asked, her voice carrying a quiet warmth that made it clear she was more charmed than offended by the suggestion.

Her gaze dropped briefly to the instrument resting between them, then to the empty glass in front of Zarrah, before finally settling on the bartender. Without interrupting the melody, Rin tilted her head toward the bar and made a small, fluid circular motion with two fingers. The bartender spotted it immediately, grunting in acknowledgment as he reached for another bottle. Rin allowed the silence to stretch comfortably after that, letting the music carry the weight of the conversation while steam hissed overhead and dark ash rattled softly against the thick windows.

Only when the bartender set a fresh drink down did Rin finally speak again, her amber eyes lifting from the strings to meet Zarrah's.

"Tell me something," she said calmly, her fingers continuing to weave through the familiar spacer tune. "Are we here to fan the flames of rebellion? Or are we trying to build something that will still be standing after the fire burns out?"

The distinction was an important one, spoken with genuine curiosity rather than judgment, and she let the question linger gently between them as the music rolled onward through the volcanic night.

Zarrah Vex

 

[Zarrah Vex]

Objective: Try to relax in the course of a mission
Location: Cantina, Varonat
Attire: Cantina Drifter Outfit
Tag: Rin Taal

Zarrah caught the twitch of amusement and answered it with a grin of her own. Before either of them could continue, the request for Burning Road rose from somewhere near the bar. The immediate chorus of approval that followed earned a knowing look from Zarrah as Rin smoothly shifted away from the Zorren melodies and into the spacer favorite.

She recognized it. Not in the same deep way she recognized the songs of Veradune. Those lived somewhere deeper. This one belonged to spaceports, troop transports, cargo holds, and long hyperspace jumps. Zarrah had heard it often enough over the years, usually sung by people with grease on their hands or blaster burns on their armor.

A few verses came back to her. Most did not. Still, she found herself tapping a finger lightly against the table in time with the rhythm. The crowd clearly loved it. That alone was reason enough not to challenge the choice.

When Rin repeated the word recruit with that amused warmth in her voice, Zarrah raised both hands in mock surrender. "That sounds much more dramatic than I intended."

The arrival of the fresh drink drew a glance from her. Then another toward Rin. The realization settled a moment later. A smile tugged at her lips. "I appreciate that."

She lifted the glass slightly in acknowledgment before taking a drink. The question that followed caused her to pause. For several seconds she listened to the music rather than immediately answering. It was a good question. Perhaps the question. The sort that separated movements that survived from movements that became cautionary tales.

A mischievous smile slowly appeared. "Some of both." Her eyes met Rin's. "Rebellions get people moving." She gestured vaguely toward the room around them. "They remind people that change is possible."

The smile softened. "But rebellions aren't governments." Years as a Jedi and later a soldier had taught her that lesson repeatedly. Winning was often the easy part. Building afterward was where most causes stumbled.

"If all we accomplish is tearing something down, someone else will eventually come along and build another version of it." Her fingers rested against the side of her glass. "The goal is lasting support."

A slight nod accompanied the words. "Local governments. Representative governments. Whatever shape the people involved actually want." She chuckled softly. "Turns out people are much more willing to defend something when they had a hand in creating it."

The spacer tune rolled onward around them. Someone near the bar was quietly humming along now. Another patron had begun tapping a boot against the floor. The atmosphere felt lighter than when she had first entered.

After a moment Zarrah leaned forward slightly. "Truthfully?" The mischievous smile returned. "If you wanted to help, I don't think I'd recruit you as a revolutionary."

Her gaze briefly flicked toward the instrument. "You're probably too sensible for that." The grin widened. "What would help is a guide."

She gestured vaguely toward the settlement outside the cantina walls. "The people. The routes. Which communities matter. Which ones trust outsiders and which ones don't." Her expression grew more thoughtful. "I don't know Varonat."

Not the way Rin clearly did. "I can talk to people. Organize people. Give them something to believe in." She shrugged lightly. "But every world speaks its own language, even when everyone is technically speaking Basic."

Her eyes drifted toward the ash-coated windows. "And I've only been listening to Varonat's accent for a few days." The comment carried no pressure behind it. No expectation. Merely an honest observation.

Then she lifted her glass once more. "Besides, if I start recruiting musicians, eventually somebody is going to expect me to sing." A look of mock horror crossed her face. "And that would kill the movement before the Sith ever got the chance."

​

 

[Rin Taal]

Rin listened while the spacer tune rolled onward beneath their conversation, her fingers moving across the strings with the sort of familiarity that came from having played the song more times than she could count. Around them, several patrons had already begun humming along while a table near the back attempted a chorus with varying levels of success. The song belonged to places like this. Cargo bays. Mining settlements. Frontier bars. Long hyperspace routes where crews spent more time with one another than they did with their own families. It wasn't home in the same way the Veradune melodies were, but it had become familiar enough over the years that she could play it without thinking.

As Zarrah spoke about rebellions, governments, and the difference between tearing something down and building something worth keeping afterward, Rin found herself nodding almost despite herself. There was a practical honesty to the answer that she appreciated. Too many people became enamored with the fire itself. They talked endlessly about revolution, resistance, and freedom, but very few seemed interested in the far more difficult work that followed. The work of building roads, communities, trust, and all the other unglamorous things that allowed ordinary people to live their lives without constantly looking over their shoulders.

"People care more about a roof if they helped raise it," she observed quietly as the melody carried on. "Communities aren't much different."

The comment about recruiting her earned a raised eyebrow and a faint twitch at one corner of her mouth. There was enough skepticism in the look to answer before words ever arrived.

"Too sensible for a revolutionary?" she repeated, the trace of amusement in her voice making it difficult to tell whether she considered that praise or criticism. "I'll choose to take that as a compliment."

Her gaze dropped briefly to the instrument resting against her knee before lifting once more toward Zarrah. As the other woman described what she actually needed, however, Rin's expression grew noticeably more thoughtful. People. Routes. Settlements. Communities. The places outsiders overlooked because they never stayed long enough to understand why they mattered. Unlike politics, that was a language Rin understood immediately.

She had spent decades moving through places most governments barely remembered existed. Some years, she guided caravans through wilderness routes where maps were little more than hopeful suggestions. Other years, she carried messages between isolated settlements, escorted crews through unstable sectors, or worked as hired protection for people who could not afford to lose what little they had. The worlds changed. The people rarely did.

"You'd be surprised how many places start sounding the same once you get far enough from the Core," she said, her eyes drifting briefly toward the ash-dark windows. "Different accents. Different flags. Different people claiming authority. But most of them are worried about the same things. Making a living. Protecting their families. Surviving whatever powerful group has decided their corner of the galaxy matters this month."

A small smile touched her lips.

"Varonat just happens to pronounce it differently."

The song's rhythm shifted into another verse as she considered the rest. Outside, ash continued to drift past the windows, while, somewhere near the bar, a group of miners attempted to keep pace with the chorus. It wasn't particularly good, but enthusiasm made up for what they lacked in talent.

"If you're serious about understanding this world, I'd spend less time in the cities and more time outside them. The mines get attention because that's where the credits come from, but the frontier settlements remember everything. They remember who helped when things went bad. They remember who disappeared when things got difficult. Most importantly, they remember who bothered to show up at all."

Her fingers continued moving across the strings as she spoke, never quite losing the song beneath the conversation.

"The Blackwall still has holes if you know where to look. There are routes people use because they're faster, because they're safer, and because they don't want anyone asking where they're going. Spend enough time moving between settlements, and you start learning which is which."

The statement wasn't quite an offer, but it wasn't entirely absent one either.

Then Zarrah mentioned singing.

Rin barked out a genuine laugh, the sound carrying farther than most of her words had all evening.

"Now that," she said, shaking her head slightly while the amusement lingered in her eyes, "might be the strongest argument against your entire movement."

The grin that followed was small but unmistakably genuine.

"For the sake of everyone involved, let's hope it never comes to that."

Zarrah Vex

 

[Zarrah Vex]

Objective: Try to relax in the course of a mission
Location: Cantina, Varonat
Attire: Cantina Drifter Outfit
Tag: Rin Taal

Zarrah found herself nodding along with Rin's observation. "Exactly." Her fingers wrapped around the glass as she listened. "A roof. A road. A government." A small shrug followed. "People protect what they help build."

It was one of the first lessons she had learned after leaving the Jedi Order. Armies could win worlds. Governments could claim worlds. Neither meant much if the people living there never believed they belonged.

The comment about being too sensible for a revolutionary earned a grin. "I did say full-fledged revolutionary." She took a drink before continuing. "There's a difference." A mischievous glimmer touched her eyes. "One spends all their time talking about overthrowing governments. The other quietly points them toward the people doing useful work."

That sounded considerably more like Rin. As the conversation shifted toward Varonat itself, Zarrah listened carefully. Not because she was humoring her. Because this was exactly the sort of information she had come here looking for. The longer Rin spoke, the more convinced Zarrah became that she understood the world far better than any report or briefing could.

Different accents.
Different flags.
Same worries.
Same people.

She smiled at that. "Varonat pronounces it differently." Zarrah repeated softly. The phrase lingered in her thoughts. "That's going to stay with me." Her gaze drifted briefly toward the miners attempting to keep pace with the song. Their enthusiasm was indeed significantly stronger than their talent.

Then Rin began speaking about the frontier settlements. That captured her full attention. The smile faded into thoughtful focus. The settlements remembered. Who showed up. Who helped. Who vanished. That tracked with everything Zarrah had learned during her years as both Jedi and soldier. Governments measured influence in sectors and systems. Ordinary people measured it in names and faces.

A senator might visit once. The local medic who stayed during a crisis would be remembered for generations. "The frontier always remembers." She nodded slowly. "Maybe better than the cities do."

Her eyes followed the drifting ash beyond the windows. Too many officials spent their lives talking to other officials. Too few ever bothered speaking to the people actually living with the consequences.

The mention of the Blackwall routes earned another thoughtful nod. That sounded suspiciously close to the answer she had been hoping for. Not an offer. But not a refusal either. The kind of answer given by someone willing to see whether another person was worth their time.

Then the conversation returned to her singing. Rin's laugh immediately drew one from Zarrah. A genuine one. The image alone was enough. "Oh, no." She shook her head. "You don't understand the scale of the threat."

A hand pressed dramatically against her chest. "I survived Sith, pirates, criminal syndicates, and more military campaigns than I care to count." The grin widened. "But a musical performance by me?"

She pointed toward the door. "People would be fleeing into the volcanic ash." A few nearby patrons glanced over at the laughter. Zarrah lowered her voice conspiratorially. "The Sith would probably surrender out of pity."

She chuckled before settling back into her chair. After a moment, her gaze returned to Rin. The humor softened. "Truthfully, though..." She gestured lightly around the cantina. "The kind of things you're talking about? The settlements. The routes. The people who remember."

A pause. "That's exactly where I'd rather spend my time." Her eyes drifted toward the humming miners. "The cities are useful. You can always find someone angry in a city."

Then she looked back at Rin. "But if you're trying to build something that lasts, you need the people who stay after everyone else leaves." The statement hung between them for a moment before a small smile returned. "So if I happen to find a guide who knows those places..."

Her glass lifted slightly in salute. "I suspect I'd consider myself very fortunate."

​

 

[Rin Taal]

Rin listened while Zarrah spoke, the spacer tune continuing beneath the conversation as naturally as a second voice. Around them, the cantina had settled into that comfortable rhythm found only in places where people worked hard enough to appreciate a few hours of peace. A group of haulers near the bar had fully committed to singing along despite possessing only a passing relationship with the actual melody, while a pair of miners argued over lyrics neither of them seemed particularly confident about. The sound drew a small smile from Rin before her attention returned to the woman across from her.

The distinction between revolutionary and useful person earned another faint twitch at the corner of her mouth. "That's a very diplomatic way of saying one person starts the fire and the other makes sure everyone survives it." The observation carried no criticism. If anything, it sounded like approval. The galaxy had never lacked people willing to make speeches. Finding people willing to deal with the consequences afterward was considerably more difficult, and over the years Rin had learned there was usually more value in the latter than the former.

Her fingers continued moving through the familiar rhythm while Zarrah spoke about memory, settlements, and the people who remained long after the speeches ended. On that subject, at least, they seemed to understand one another perfectly. "The cities change quickly," she said after a moment. "Businesses close. Officials leave. Governments come and go. A settlement at the edge of nowhere doesn't have that luxury. If somebody helps them through a hard season, they remember. If somebody abandons them when things get difficult, they remember that too. Out there, memory tends to last longer than records." Her gaze drifted briefly toward the ash-covered windows as she spoke, watching dark flecks slide across the glass before disappearing into the night beyond.

The music rolled onward while she considered the rest. Zarrah talked about wanting to spend time among the people who stayed after everyone else left, and that, more than anything else she'd said all evening, felt genuine. Plenty of visitors claimed they cared about ordinary people. Far fewer voluntarily chose the long roads, isolated settlements, and endless stretches of wilderness that separated one forgotten community from another. That work wasn't glamorous. Most of the time, it wasn't even comfortable. Which was precisely why it mattered.

The conversation eventually returned to singing, and Rin's shoulders shook with quiet laughter as Zarrah continued escalating the danger posed by her hypothetical musical career. "Volcanic ash, pirates, Sith, military campaigns," she mused thoughtfully, the amusement lingering plainly in her eyes. "And somehow your singing remains the greatest threat to public safety. Remarkable." The deadpan delivery only made the joke better, and for a moment, the weightier subjects gave way to something simpler.

Then came the salute, the statement, and the suggestion left carefully hanging between them. Rin's gaze settled on Zarrah for a long moment while her fingers continued moving across the strings; the song never faltered, and neither did her attention. She knew what was being offered. Not employment, not exactly, but a possibility. The chance that this conversation might continue beyond tonight. Her eyes drifted briefly toward the instrument resting against her knee before returning to Zarrah once more. "Fortunate might be stretching it," she replied dryly, though the warmth beneath the words softened the edge considerably. "Most people who travel with me end up sleeping outdoors, eating poorly, and questioning several life choices. Though they usually survive."

She let that linger while her gaze shifted once more toward the ash-dark windows and the frontier hidden somewhere beyond them. "If you're still here in a few days, there's a settlement two hundred kilometers east of the main mining routes. Most visitors never bother with it. Too far away. Too little profit. Which is probably why they've managed to remain themselves." Her fingers struck the final notes of the verse before smoothly transitioning into the next melody, older and quieter than the last. "Seems like the sort of place you're talking about." It wasn't quite a commitment, but it had moved beyond simple advice, and for Rin, that was often how such things began.

Zarrah Vex

 

[Zarrah Vex]

Objective: Try to relax in the course of a mission
Location: Cantina, Varonat
Attire: Cantina Drifter Outfit
Tag: Rin Taal

The lively chorus of off-key haulers earned an amused shake of Zarrah's head. For all the political discussions, frontier wisdom, and talk of resistance, there was something reassuringly universal about a group of workers enthusiastically butchering a perfectly good song after a few drinks.

When Rin described the difference between starting a fire and making sure everyone survived it, Zarrah raised her glass slightly. "That's actually much better than my version." A grin followed. "I may steal that."

The comment about settlements remembering earned a thoughtful nod. That aligned perfectly with what she had seen across dozens of worlds. Records could be altered. Governments rewrote history all the time. Communities rarely forgot who had shown up when things became difficult. "Memory lasts longer than records," she repeated quietly.

The phrase struck her as the sort of truth that sounded obvious once spoken aloud. The sort of thing people spent years learning the hard way.

As the conversation drifted back toward the dangers of her singing, Zarrah laughed again. "You joke, but somewhere out there is a former squadmate who would support every word you're saying." She pointed toward Rin. "With evidence." The accusation was delivered with mock severity.

Then came the response she had actually been hoping for. Not a commitment. Not exactly. But close enough. As Rin described the typical experience of traveling with her, Zarrah gave a short chuckle. "Do I look soft?"

The question was entirely rhetorical. She didn't wait for an answer. "I’ve completed my trial. I spent years as a Jedi and Wilder." A finger ticked upward. "Then years as a soldier." Another finger. "I've slept in swamps, deserts, frozen forests, mountains, caves, and at least one place that I'm reasonably certain was actively trying to kill me."

The grin widened. "A survival test sounds fun." There was enough sincerity in that statement to make it clear she genuinely meant it. Comfort had never been a requirement. Adventure rarely came with comfortable accommodations.

As Rin spoke of the settlement east of the mining routes, Zarrah's attention sharpened immediately. Two hundred kilometers. Ignored by most visitors. Too little profit. Too far away. Exactly the sort of place she wanted to see.

The quieter melody that followed seemed fitting somehow. The conversation had gradually moved away from broad ideas and toward something more tangible. Something real. A destination.

"A settlement that managed to remain itself." She smiled. "Those are becoming increasingly rare."

Her gaze drifted briefly toward the ash-darkened windows. Toward the unseen frontier beyond them. Then back to Rin. "I'll still be here."

The statement came easily. Without hesitation. The movement could spare a few days. Especially for something like this. "When you're ready to head out, you'll find me." A mischievous glimmer appeared in her eyes. "Or more likely, I'll find you."

By now she suspected Rin had spent enough years wandering that disappearing had become second nature. Zarrah, on the other hand, had already admitted she was terrible at hiding. The smile softened. "I'd like to see this place."

Not because it might be useful. Though it probably would be. Not because it might help her mission. Though it almost certainly could. But because the more Rin described it, the more it sounded like exactly the sort of community worth protecting. And that, more than politics or speeches or strategy, was why she had started down this path in the first place.

For a while afterward she simply listened. To the quieter song. To the miners singing somewhere behind them. To the hiss of steam and the soft rattle of ash against the windows. For the first time since arriving on Varonat, the world felt a little less unfamiliar.

​

 

[Rin Taal]

Rin's laugh came easier now than it had at the beginning of the evening, helped along by the atmosphere that had gradually settled over the cantina. The tunes continued beneath their conversation while miners butchered choruses, haulers argued over lyrics, and somewhere near the bar, a pilot had become convinced he could harmonize. The results suggested otherwise. At Zarrah's increasingly dramatic descriptions of the devastation her singing might unleash upon the galaxy, Rin simply shook her head and continued playing.

"I'll take your word for it," she replied dryly. "Though if the Sith do surrender because of your singing, I suppose results are results."

The conversation drifted after that, moving naturally between stories, observations, and the sort of easy discussion that only seemed to happen between travelers who recognized something familiar in one another. More food appeared at some point. More drinks followed. The hours passed without either of them seeming particularly interested in keeping track of them. Rin played when the room requested songs, accepted the occasional recommendation shouted from across the cantina, and even joined in a chorus once when half the establishment had already committed to singing badly enough that there was little harm in adding another voice.

As the night wore on, the crowd gradually thinned. Miners left in groups. Haulers drifted toward rented rooms and waiting transports. Even the loudest tables eventually surrendered to exhaustion. The conversations became quieter. The songs became slower. The cantina settled into the comfortable weariness that arrived shortly before closing. Through it all, Rin continued to play, occasionally speaking with Zarrah between songs, and at other times allowing silence to do the work for them.

Eventually, even the music came to an end.

The last song faded into the hiss of steam pipes and the soft rattle of ash against the windows. Chairs were stacked. Glasses collected. The bartender began the slow ritual of reclaiming the establishment from its patrons. Rin packed away her instrument, exchanged a few final words with people she clearly knew, and stepped out into the volcanic night beneath drifting ash and distant orange light reflected from lava flows somewhere beyond the settlement. Tomorrow would come soon enough.

When it did, Varonat greeted the morning exactly as it had greeted the night before. Ash drifted through the air. Industrial machinery rumbled in the distance. Freighters moved through the smoky skies overhead like shadows passing across a dying sun. Rin stood outside the cantina with her instrument case slung across one shoulder and a small travel pack resting at her feet. She looked as though she had been awake for some time already.

A weathered speeder waited nearby, carrying the dust and wear of countless journeys through places most travelers never bothered to visit. Supplies had already been secured. Fuel checked. Routes planned. Rin leaned casually against the vehicle while nursing a cup of caf and watching the settlement gradually come alive around her.

When she eventually spotted Zarrah emerging into the morning haze, the corner of her mouth lifted into a familiar half-smile as she offered a simple greeting, "Good. I was starting to think I'd have to come looking for you." Her gaze drifted briefly toward the ash-covered horizon stretching eastward beyond the settlement before she added, "It's a long drive. Figured we should leave before the roads decide they don't like us anymore." The statement sounded absurd, though on Varonat, it probably wasn't.

Zarrah Vex

 

[Zarrah Vex]

Objective: Start trek to settlement
Location: Cantina, Varonat
Attire: Survival Outfit
Tag: Rin Taal

"If my singing could end the Sith, I'd consider the suffering worthwhile." Zarrah's grin broadened. "Not my suffering, admittedly." She raised her glass toward Rin in mock salute. "But sacrifices must be made."

The joke lingered between them as the evening carried on. The hours slipped away easier than Zarrah had expected. Songs came and went. Stories followed. More than once she found herself simply listening—to the music, to the patrons, to the strange rhythm of life in this volcanic corner of the galaxy. By the time the crowd began thinning and the final songs drifted through the cantina, she found herself reluctant for the evening to end.

Eventually, though, it did. The last notes faded. The chairs were stacked. The bartender reclaimed his territory. Zarrah watched Rin pack away her instrument and exchange farewells with people who clearly considered her a familiar face. Then she stepped back out into the ash-filled night and made her way toward the starport.

Her ship was hardly luxurious, but after years spent as a Jedi and then a soldier, it was comfortable enough. The sleep that followed came easily. And ended far too quickly.

Morning arrived with all the subtlety of a turbolaser barrage. Zarrah groaned at the chronometer before forcing herself upright and beginning the familiar routine. Exercise. Shower. Equipment check. Breakfast. The same sequence she had followed across countless worlds. The effort felt slightly absurd.

She knew perfectly well that Varonat would undo most of it the moment she stepped outside. Sure enough, the volcanic air greeted her with drifting ash and the distant rumble of industry.

For a brief moment she considered spending the day elsewhere. There were other settlements. Other cantinas. Other opportunities to spread the message she had come here to spread.

Yet her thoughts kept returning to the conversation. To the music. To the settlement hidden beyond the mining routes. And to the guide who knew how to find it. So she found herself walking back toward the cantina.

The sight waiting outside immediately brought a smile to her face. The speeder had clearly lived a long and adventurous life. Its paint had surrendered years ago. Its body carried the scars of hard use. Several components looked as though they had been repaired through stubbornness alone. It was magnificent. "Oh, that's got character." The approval in her voice was immediate.

Her travel pack rested comfortably against her shoulder. She had traded yesterday's clothing for something better suited to a long journey and made certain to bring a handful of survival essentials. Old habits. The kind that tended to keep people alive.

When she spotted Rin leaning casually against the speeder with caf in hand, Zarrah's smile widened. "Sorry." The apology came surprisingly easily. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

She shifted the pack slightly. "I'm not used to accounting for other people's schedules." The confession carried a note of self-awareness. For years she had largely operated according to her own timetable. Missions, patrols, deployments, political work—most of it had involved other people adapting to her movements rather than the other way around.

Her gaze drifted eastward toward the ash-covered horizon. Then back to Rin. The excitement was difficult to hide. A new place. New people. A chance to see the side of Varonat most visitors ignored. It was exactly the sort of thing she loved.

"If the roads decide they don't like us, we'll simply have to convince them otherwise." The grin returned. "Or outrun them." She patted the side of the weathered speeder affectionately. "Though judging by this beauty, I suspect that's been attempted before."

Then she stepped toward the passenger side and spread her hands. "All right." Her amber eyes gleamed with anticipation. "I'm supplied." A glance toward the horizon. "I'm awake." A brief pause. "Mostly." Then she looked back at Rin. "I'm ready to go."

​

 

[Rin Taal]

Rin's eyes drifted toward the battered speeder as Zarrah praised it, and the corner of her mouth lifted with quiet satisfaction. It was an old machine, held together by years of maintenance, careful repairs, and the occasional piece borrowed from something that had long since stopped running. It wasn't impressive to look at, but it had never once failed to bring her home.

"She's earned every scratch," she said simply before reaching into one of the storage compartments built into the side of the vehicle. Rather than pulling out another tool or ration pack, she retrieved a long, well-worn scarf and held it out toward Zarrah. Then she reached for another, wrapping it loosely across her own mouth and nose before tucking the ends beneath the collar of her jacket. Her next words came slightly muffled through the fabric. "This keeps the worst of the ash out of your mouth and throat. You'll still taste the air, but at least you won't be chewing on it."

Once Zarrah had taken the scarf, Rin moved around to the rear of the speeder and lifted the storage hatch. The compartments had been packed with the practiced efficiency of someone who had spent years living out of vehicles much like this one. Water containers were secured against one side, beside sealed food tins and a compact cook kit. Tool rolls, spare parts, recovery cable, medical supplies, and extra fuel cells all occupied their own carefully arranged places, leaving very little space wasted.

"I don't expect any trouble," she said while resting one hand on a tightly rolled bedroll, "but I learned a long time ago not to plan around expectations." Her hand moved to a second bedroll tucked neatly beneath the first before closing the compartment again. "There's enough bedding for both of us if we end up spending a night out there. It should only be about two hours to the settlement."

A small shrug accompanied the thought.

"Sometimes two hours becomes six. Roads wash out. Machinery breaks down. Somebody waves you over because a vaporator stopped working or a child wandered off chasing something they shouldn't have." There wasn't the slightest hint of annoyance in her voice. If anything, it sounded like she considered such delays an ordinary part of traveling rather than inconveniences.

She rounded the front of the speeder, taking one last slow look across the gray horizon where the mining roads gradually disappeared into drifting ash. Whatever route she intended to follow clearly existed more in memory than on any navigational display. After one final sip of caf, she put the empty cup into a nearby recycler and climbed into the driver's seat.

"Besides," she added with another faint half-smile as the engine rumbled to life in front of them, "the best stories I've collected usually started with someone saying, 'It should only take a couple of hours.'"

Zarrah Vex

 

[Zarrah Vex]

Objective: Start trek to settlement
Location: Cantina, Varonat
Attire: Survival Outfit
Tag: Rin Taal

Zarrah's smile broadened as she looked over the weathered speeder once more. "Good." She rested a hand lightly against its scarred frame. "I don't trust bright, shiny speeders." There was a teasing note in her voice. "The ones that haven't been tested haven't earned my confidence yet." Every scrape and dent spoke of another journey completed. Another traveler brought home. She found that far more reassuring than polished paint and showroom perfection.

When Rin offered the scarf, Zarrah accepted it with an appreciative nod. "Thanks." She watched as Rin wrapped her own before mimicking the motion, pulling the worn fabric over her mouth and nose and tying it securely behind her neck. It fit comfortably enough, and if it spared her lungs from inhaling half of Varonat's atmosphere, she certainly wasn't going to complain.

She tilted her head, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Never heard of a good helmet?" The wink that accompanied the question made it obvious she was joking.

Truthfully, she wouldn't have worn one either. Not on a speeder like this. Watching Rin methodically inspect the storage compartment, Zarrah found herself quietly impressed.

Water.
Food.
Tools.
Medical supplies.
Fuel.
Recovery equipment.

The organization reminded her of Jedi expeditions into the wilderness, where forgetting one small item could become tomorrow's lesson in humility. It also reminded her of Wilders she had crossed paths with over the years, people who understood that nature rarely cared how prepared you thought you were. For a brief moment, she wondered if they were setting off on a second Trial.

The thought brought a private smile. She certainly didn't mind. Preparation had rarely made an adventure less interesting. As Rin pointed out the second bedroll, Zarrah nodded appreciatively. "Thank you." Her tone carried genuine gratitude. "I'll make do with whatever comforts are available."

She chuckled softly. "I've slept under trees, inside caves, in abandoned outposts, and on more troop transports than I care to remember." Her expression softened with quiet nostalgia. "Honestly, the quarters I had aboard a naval vessel were probably the most consistently comfortable place I've ever lived." A small shrug followed. "And they were hardly luxurious."

Comfort had never required luxury. Only safety. The explanation about delays earned another understanding nod. Roads. Broken machinery. Lost children. To Rin they were simply part of the journey. To Zarrah, they sounded like exactly the sort of interruptions that revealed who people really were.

"I'm not on a schedule." She answered simply. "If it takes two hours, wonderful." A small smile. "If it takes six, I'll have seen more of Varonat than I expected."

As Rin climbed behind the controls and the old speeder rumbled to life, Zarrah circled around and settled comfortably into the passenger seat, adjusting her pack at her feet before fastening herself in. The engine had a healthy growl to it. Another point in its favor.

At Rin's final observation, Zarrah laughed behind the scarf. "I've learned that's practically a universal law." Her eyes drifted toward the ash-shrouded horizon stretching out before them. "'This should only take a couple of hours' is usually the beginning of either an excellent story..."

She glanced over at Rin. "...or an official incident report." The grin was evident even with the scarf hiding most of it. "Either way..."

She settled back into the seat, anticipation replacing any lingering hesitation. "I'm ready for whatever's waiting out there."

​

 

[Rin Taal]

Rin gave a quiet snort behind the scarf as the speeder eased away from the settlement, its worn engine settling into a familiar rhythm that seemed almost content once it reached the open road. The mining camp slowly disappeared behind them, swallowed by drifting curtains of ash until only the faint silhouettes of cranes and smokestacks remained against the gray horizon. Before them, the landscape opened into rolling fields of black volcanic stone broken by hardy brush and the occasional cluster of stubborn trees that had somehow convinced life to take root in an unforgiving world.

"Let's hope for the story," she replied, her voice still slightly muffled beneath the scarf. "The paperwork is usually much less interesting."

The road, if it could still be called one, gradually narrowed until it became little more than two worn tracks weaving through the basalt. Rin drove without hesitation, occasionally steering around stretches that looked perfectly serviceable to anyone unfamiliar with the route. Once or twice she slowed just enough to study the ground ahead before choosing one fork over another, never consulting a map or navigation display. The route seemed to exist entirely in memory.

As the first several minutes of the journey slipped by, the mining traffic gradually fell behind them until the steady rumble of the speeder and the sounds of the wilderness reclaimed the silence. The air grew noticeably cleaner the farther they traveled from the industrial settlements, though the faint scent of sulfur never entirely abandoned the wind. Small creatures darted through the brush, unfamiliar birds called from the trees overhead, and every so often Rin pointed out something of passing interest without slowing the vehicle, whether it was a hardy flowering plant that bloomed only after volcanic rains or an old lava flow that had cooled centuries before.

Not even halfway to their destination, she eased off the accelerator.

Nothing appeared obviously wrong.

That, in itself, was enough.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied the trail ahead, and after another hundred meters she brought the speeder to a smooth stop.

"Well…"

The single word carried neither frustration nor surprise.

Only quiet acceptance.

She climbed out and walked the remaining distance toward what should have been a shallow crossing. Overnight rains somewhere higher in the hills had transformed the normally placid stream into a broad, fast-moving torrent. The road simply ended; the near bank sheared away where rushing water had carved away several meters of earth before carrying it downstream. Broken stone, uprooted brush, and muddy water churned together where wagons and speeders normally crossed without a second thought.

Rin crouched near the edge, studying the current for a long moment before following the river upstream with her eyes. She neither sighed nor frowned. Instead, she simply accepted that the landscape had made its decision.

"There goes the direct route," she said calmly.

She picked up a small piece of dark basalt and tossed it into the rushing water, watching it vanish almost immediately beneath the current.

"This crossing was here three days ago. Looks like the storms farther upstream had other plans."

Rising to her feet again, she looked north along the riverbank, her attention already tracing an alternative path through the trees.

"There's another crossing a few kilometers upstream. It'll add some time, but I'd rather lose an hour than a speeder."

The faintest trace of amusement returned to her eyes as she glanced sideways toward Zarrah.

"Congratulations," she said, the half-smile returning beneath the scarf. "Looks like your story has started earlier than expected."

I actually like this better than the first draft. It shows exactly why Rin is valuable: she doesn't react dramatically to problems; she simply recognizes them, adjusts, and keeps moving. That's the mark of someone who's spent decades on the frontier.

Zarrah Vex

 

[Zarrah Vex]

Objective: Start trek to settlement
Location: Varonat
Attire: Survival Outfit
Tag: Rin Taal

The old speeder rumbled steadily across the volcanic plains, its engine settling into a rhythm that seemed almost as practiced as its driver. Zarrah sat comfortably enough in the passenger seat. Or at least she tried to.

She trusted Rin. That wasn't the problem. The unfamiliar feeling came from somewhere else entirely. For years, whenever she'd traveled, she'd either held the controls herself or been the one deciding where everyone else was going. Jedi deployments, military operations, diplomatic missions—someone always looked to her for direction, even when she wasn't officially in command. Sitting in the passenger seat with nothing to do but watch the road felt...odd.

She caught herself more than once studying the terrain ahead, unconsciously evaluating routes she wasn't responsible for choosing. Old habits. Fortunately, Rin didn't leave the journey to silence. As the mining settlement disappeared into the ash behind them, Zarrah found her attention drawn outward instead of inward. She followed Rin's observations, smiling behind the scarf at the stubborn flowering plants clinging to volcanic soil. Her gaze lingered on the ancient lava flows and the unfamiliar wildlife darting through the brush, each new detail making the landscape feel less hostile and more alive.

By the time the mining traffic had vanished entirely, she'd relaxed noticeably. There was something reassuring about traveling with someone who knew a world well enough to introduce it rather than simply cross it.

When the speeder slowed, Zarrah instinctively straightened. She couldn't immediately see the problem. Rin apparently could. Without a word, Zarrah climbed out after her and followed toward what should have been the crossing. The sound reached her first. Water. Far more water than she'd expected.

By the time she reached the edge of the washed-out bank, the torrent below was obvious. Brown water surged through the channel with enough force to drag boulders downstream, carrying broken brush and chunks of earth with it. Even without Rin's explanation, it was clear no sensible person was driving across that. Her eyes tracked the current for a moment before she looked back toward the damaged crossing.

"Nature is almost never constant in its obstacles." The observation came easily. "That's part of what makes it such an effective teacher." The Force had taught her that lesson long ago. Trails disappeared. Rivers shifted. Storms arrived without invitation. Survival belonged less to the strongest than to those willing to adapt.

She watched Rin toss the basalt into the current, unsurprised when it disappeared almost immediately. The alternate crossing sounded like the obvious choice. "Losing an hour beats losing a speeder." Or their lives.

When Rin congratulated her on the story beginning sooner than expected, Zarrah laughed softly. "I was expecting it." She folded her arms loosely as she looked upstream, where Rin's attention had already begun plotting their new course.

"I just thought it might take a little longer." A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Journeys worth remembering rarely stick to the easiest path."

Her amber eyes drifted once more over the rushing water before settling back on Rin. "So..." The excitement that had carried her out of the cantina the previous morning remained completely intact. "Lead on." Whatever waited beyond the next crossing, she had a feeling it would be worth seeing.

​