Private Beneath a Broken Order

[Xian Xiao]

Xian had learned what empty looked like.

Not the kind found in quiet rooms or abandoned streets, not the kind born from silence or distance. This was different, something that settled in people, in places, in the space between what used to exist and what was left behind when it no longer did. Bastion felt like that now.

The line moved slowly. It stretched along the outer corridor in a quiet procession, a long column of bodies whose stillness said more than shouting ever could. No one pushed. No one argued. They simply waited, each person holding their place as if it might vanish if they loosened their grip.

Xian stood among them, hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, her gaze drifting without drawing attention. She watched the subtle shifts, how some people kept glancing toward the front as if staring might make it move faster, while others avoided looking at all.

Waiting wasn't new to her. Neither was this.

The Diarchy was gone, not in a single moment, but in pieces, structure stripped away until what remained no longer held the same shape. Rellik was gone too. Another voice that had been steady one moment and silent the next. She didn't let herself stay in that thought long. She couldn't afford to.

Her stomach reminded her of that more than anything else, the quiet, persistent pull that came from not having enough, from knowing that whatever she received today had to stretch further than it should. But she wasn't the only one.

A small figure a few places ahead shifted on their feet, too short to see past the bodies in front of them. Further up, an older man leaned heavily against the wall, his breathing uneven, his place in line held more by stubbornness than strength.

There were others. There were always others. Xian exhaled slowly, her shoulders settling as something in her expression shifted. Not softer, just decided. She had been here before. Different world. Different people. Same problem.

Her eyes moved again, this time with intention. Counting. Not just the people, but the spacing, the rhythm of movement, and the way the distribution point at the front was being handled. Crates were stacked along one side. Supplies were handed out in measured portions. Not rushed, but not careful enough either.

There were gaps. Small ones. But enough.

Her fingers flexed inside her pockets, grounding herself as the beginnings of a plan took shape, not fully formed yet, but already moving in the direction it needed to go.

If she took what she was given, it would last her a little while. If she took a little more…It could last more than just her. The line shifted forward, and Xian moved with it, her gaze lifting toward the front, steady now.

"Alright," she murmured under her breath, quiet enough that no one else would hear. "Let's see how careful they really are." The next step was going to matter. And she was already thinking three steps ahead.

Xuko Pagoi

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

The planet was called Bastion, according to the mission briefing- not that there was much of a mission briefing. Xuko had decided that he'd been assigned this relief mission because the Jedi Order on Naboo wasn't quite sure what to do with him following his unexpected arrival from Dathomir. Maybe it was an easy way of getting him back out into the galaxy; support relief efforts on a planet in need. The more Xuko had become reacquainted with the galaxy, the more he began seeing that need everywhere he looked.

And much like the line that sprawled out before the makeshift distribution station he'd helped assemble, there was always more need than resources.

Xuko let his gaze wander over the line of shuffling, hungry people. Nameless faces, all showing some combination of fatigue, resignation, desperation, hunger, and despair. Each with a life, full and vibrant, rudely interrupted and distilled down to a simple need to survive.

Xuko resisted the urge to feel pity for them- not when pity put up barriers between them and him. Instead he tried to empathize, as he'd been instructed to. Wasn't that part of being a Jedi? To look at the citizens of the galaxy and see them as more than just their current circumstances?

The Iridonian Zabrak frowned as his thoughts were interrupted by an insistent beep from the datapad at his station. Xuko noddied his thanks to another aid worker who took his place at the distribution tent before studying the notification more closely. If the log was correct- and Xuko had no reason to suspect that it wasn't- they would run out of supplies almost two standard hours before anticipated.

That was less than ideal.

A quick glance at the line confirmed that not only would the supplies be short; they would be significantly short. If only empathy could fill bellies and build shelters.

Xuko navigated through the records, by some miracle finding the information he was looking for. Apparently, some of the preserved fruits had also contained a family of womp rats, which meant that they were not delivered along with rest of the supplies.

That accounted for the shortage, if not peace of mind. With an inward sigh, Xuko began walking over towards where the containers were stacked, intent on double-checking them and (hopefully) not finding any womp rats along the way.

Xian Xiao

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian had already noticed the shift.

Most people in line hadn't. Things were still moving, still being handed out in steady portions, still controlled enough that no one had started to panic. But the rhythm was wrong, slower in places it shouldn't be, tighter in ways that meant someone up front had realized the numbers wouldn't meet the need. It was the kind of change that didn't announce itself, but settled into the air like a held breath. Xian watched it take shape, letting the pattern settle into something she could read, something familiar in a way she wished it wasn't.

Her attention drifted, not to the front, where the tension was building, but to the side. The crates. And the person moving toward them. The line kept inching forward, but she stepped out of it quietly, hands still tucked into her jacket, her movement unhurried enough that it didn't draw attention. She shifted the way someone might if they suddenly remembered they were supposed to be somewhere else. By the time she reached him, she'd already decided he wasn't just another worker. The way he moved gave it away, careful, intentional, not scrambling to keep up but trying to solve the problem before it broke open.

She stopped a short distance away, her gaze flicking once to the crates, then back to him, measuring the situation with the same quiet precision she used for everything else. "You're checking for something that's not going to change what happens up there," she said, her tone quiet, matter-of-fact, but not unkind. It wasn't a reprimand, just the truth, spoken plainly.

Her eyes drifted back toward the line, taking in the faces, the fatigue, the way people leaned into the hope that there would be enough. She could feel the strain building, the way hunger and uncertainty pressed into people until they stopped thinking clearly. "They're going to run out," Xian added, softer now, as if acknowledging something neither of them wanted to say aloud. "Before the line does."

She let that settle, watching how he carried the truth of it. Then she nudged one of the containers lightly with the toe of her boot, grounding the moment. "If it's just a shortage," she said, "then this doesn't fix it." Her voice wasn't sharp, but it held a quiet certainty, the kind that came from experience, not theory.

A beat passed, long enough to feel intentional, not long enough to be uncomfortable. "I'm not trying to get in your way," she continued, her voice steady, warmer at the edges now that she'd taken his measure. "But standing here isn't going to help them." Her gaze lifted to meet his fully, direct but not confrontational, the kind of look that invited understanding rather than demanded it.

"There's a way to make it stretch," she said. "Not perfect. But better than letting the line collapse on itself." She nodded toward the crates, her posture shifting just slightly as she stepped into the problem with him rather than around him. "Split the portions before they reach the table. Smaller, but consistent. People don't argue as much when the change happens before they see it."

She let that sink in before adding, more quietly, "And if you move the last crate to the back, it buys you time. Makes it look like there's more than there is." Her tone wasn't manipulative, just practical. She'd seen enough shortages to know that perception mattered almost as much as supply.

She didn't smile, but something in her expression eased, an acknowledgment, a quiet offering of help without asking for anything in return. "It won't fix the shortage," Xian said. "But it'll keep things steady long enough to get through today."

She wasn't asking for permission. She was giving him a way forward. And she'd already started thinking three steps past it.

Xuko Pagoi

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

As Xuko broke from his rhythm, so, too, did one of the people in the line. Xuko clocked her approach but didn't directly acknowledge her until she started speaking. That didn't stop his brain from immediately analyzing her, though.

She appeared to be a human woman about his age, if he was guessing correctly. No obvious ties to any of the other individuals in the line where she'd stood. Red hair with a hint of black at the roots. Scrawny but not malnourished, with a graceful fluidity to her movements which implied dance training or some other material exercise. No visible weapons, but neither was there the desperation in her eyes that haunted so many of the faces he'd seen today. All the same he expected a plea or some kind of appeal, but instead he was offered an idea.

A solution.

The suggestion was pragmatic, borne of experience, and, more surprisingly, quite selfless given the circumstances. Based off of the young woman's place in line she'd have been away an in the clear well before the supplies ran out, and with a full portion in her hands. By suggesting the idea she ran the risk of shortening her share for the good of the whole... to say nothing of the risk she was already taking by stepping out of line in the first place. Her fellow refugees were under no obligation to let her back in to her spot in the line.

Perhaps he needed to add 'naive' to his assessment of her, but she was correct. Xuko saw no need to refute her assessment, nor did he want to confirm it. As the woman's quiet tone suggested, news that there were fewer supplies than expected would only pour fuel on what could become a contentious situation.

Desperation did that to people.

"Thank you for the suggestion" he replied quietly, but continued with his inspection; eyes narrowing as he approached one of the large crates. The crate number on the lid did not match the number stamped on the side of the box; moreover, the number on the lid matched one of the allegedly-contaminated cargo.

Preparing himself for the potential jump scare that comes with a startled womp rat to the face, Xuko slid the lid to the side and glanced down into the crate. Preserved fruits, as expected, but something gleamed back at him as he shifted a few of the packages aside. Xuko liked to think that he had a decent Sabaac face, but even he couldn't prevent an expression of surprise from breaking out over his normally-stoic features, which he hastily rearranged to something more neutral.

Xuko knew weapons when he saw them; and for some reason, this crate was full of them.

Xian Xiao

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian didn't move when he thanked her. It wasn't because she was waiting for acknowledgment, and it wasn't because she expected him to act on her suggestion immediately. She simply stayed where she was, letting her attention shift with his as he continued checking the crates. Her posture remained relaxed enough not to draw notice from the line, but her focus was anything but casual. She watched the moment the rhythm changed, small and subtle, the kind of flicker most people would miss. Something crossed his expression that didn't belong with the steady control he'd been holding onto before. Surprise, quickly contained, but not quickly enough to escape her notice.

Her gaze sharpened, and she stepped a little closer, not crowding him, not making a show of it, just closing the distance enough to see past the edge of the crate without looking like she was trying to. Her head tilted slightly as she caught sight of what lay inside.

"…that's not fruit," she said quietly.

There was no alarm in her voice, no sudden tension. Just recognition, clean, immediate, and unflinching. Her eyes moved over the contents for only a second before she looked away again, back toward the line, toward the people who had no idea what was sitting a few steps from them. The weight of it settled quickly, not overwhelming, simply added to the growing list of things she was already accounting for.

"That explains the shortage," Xian murmured, softer now, speaking more to the situation than to him.

Weapons. Not misplaced supplies. Not an accident.

She exhaled slowly, her fingers shifting inside her pockets as her mind adjusted, recalibrating without losing sight of what mattered most. Her gaze flicked back to him, then to the crate again, and she stepped just slightly to the side, subtle and natural, blocking the clearest line of sight into the container from anyone approaching at the wrong angle.

"They can't see that," she said after a moment, her tone calm but more deliberate now. "Not right now." Her eyes drifted toward the line again, measuring distance, timing, the slow but steady approach of people who were tired, hungry, and already stretched thin. "If word spreads before the food runs out, this turns into something else. And it won't stay contained."

She let that truth settle between them before continuing, her voice low but steady.

"You've got two problems now. The shortage… and whatever this is." Her expression didn't harden, but it focused, sharpening around the edges the way it always did when she shifted from observation to action.

"Fix the first one like we talked about," Xian said, nodding toward the distribution point. "Keep the line steady. Keep people calm." Her gaze dropped briefly to the crate again, then lifted, meeting his with quiet certainty.

"I'll make sure no one else notices this yet." A small pause, just enough to shift from action to something more grounded. "I'm Xian," she added, simple and direct, like it didn't need anything more than that.

Then her stance settled again, anchoring herself between the crate and the rest of the corridor, already thinking ahead, already preparing for the next step. "And then," she said, her voice soft but unwavering, "we figure out why food crates are full of weapons."

Xuko Pagoi

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

Too late, Xuko sensed the woman stepping closer; heard her affirm what his eyes had already told him. Zhaqexik. There were now two problems; the food shortage, and the retribution when whomever had supposed to receive the weapons found only dried fruit.

As Xian's eyes played across the shuffling line, seeing a potential panic, Xuko's eyes were scanning the area for cover, exit routes for the refugees, or chokepoints to defend. If anyone showed up and started to wave a blaster around, he needed to know where not to start a fight.

"Xuko" the Iridonian replied with his name, lips barely moving. Xian had earned that much, and Xuko found her offer of partnership in solving this mystery appealing. She was a local, and locals knew information, people, and locations. Plus, she'd showcased a strong analytic mind and quick thinking, with an eye on the bigger picture.

Before they could plot further, or act on Xian's idea, Xuko felt a faint flare of warning in the Force. He sharpened his senses, before his gaze alighted on a Bothan across the compound who was inspecting the used crates a little too casually. Their eyes met, and the Bothan took off running. Xuko cursed internally again as he realized the significance.

An informant.

The Zabrak went dashing off in the direction that the Bothan had gone; occasionally catching a glimpse of brown fur through the sea of bodies ahead of him. The line of refugees stretched ahead of Xuko, a veritable wall of humanoid separating him from his quarry. There was no time to waste. Gathering the Force within him, Xuko leaped over the line, ignoring the shouts of surprise and alarm as he did so.

Then his feet hit the ground and he was off and running in a desperate attempt to catch the fleeing Bothan.

Xian Xiao

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian felt the shift the moment he moved. It wasn't the Force the way he sensed it, not a flare of warning or a ripple of intent, but a break in rhythm, the kind that turned a controlled space unstable in a single breath. Her gaze snapped to the Bothan at the same time his did, and she didn't need anything more than that shared look, the turn of his shoulders, the intent behind his sudden retreat.

Informant. Of course.

Xuko was already in motion, clearing the line with a speed that sent startled voices rising behind him, but Xian didn't follow immediately. Instead, she planted her feet, letting her focus drop not to the Bothan himself but to the ground ahead of him. Her breathing steadied. Her fingers flexed once, subtle and controlled.

The ground responded. A small rise in the path, barely noticeable until it mattered, caught the Bothan's next step. His balance broke, momentum carrying him forward into a hard, scrambling fall that stopped him cold.

Xian didn't hesitate.

The moment he went down, she moved, slipping through the edge of the disrupted line and using the confusion as cover. Her stride lengthened into a run, not to overtake Xuko, not to intercept, but to close the distance with purpose. By the time she reached them, Xuko already had the Bothan restrained.

Xian slowed, her steps shifting from pursuit to control. Her attention swept the corridor, taking in the line of refugees, the widening circle of onlookers, the way curiosity was beginning to sharpen into concern.

"Nice catch," she said quietly, her breath steady despite the sprint. Her gaze flicked down to the Bothan only briefly before returning to the crowd, measuring how quickly this could turn into something they didn't want.

"We shouldn't stay here," she added, her voice low but certain. "Too many eyes."

She stepped to Xuko's shoulder, not touching the captive, not interfering, but positioning herself so they could move as one. Her tone shifted when she spoke again, still calm, but colder now, carrying a quiet promise the Bothan would understand even if no one else did.

"There's a service corridor near the crates," she said. "Less traffic. We can talk there."

Her eyes met Xuko's, steady and focused, already thinking past the moment they were in. "He ran for a reason," Xian said, her voice softening only in volume, not in intent. "And I doubt it was bad timing."

Her gaze dropped to the Bothan then, lingering just long enough to make the next words land. "So you can walk," she added quietly, almost conversational, "or you can make this harder than it needs to be." A small pause. "Either way," Xian finished, her tone calm and certain, "we're still going to have that conversation."

Xuko Pagoi

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

The Bothan wasn't fast, but they did have the advantage of knowing the terrain; cutting through obstacles and leaving items strewn in their wake in an attempt to slow down the Zabrak chasing them. Xuko navigated them with relative ease, feeling the Force surge through his body as he reacted to the hurdles and gradually closed the gap.

There was only one way that this chase would end.

With a startled cry, the Bothan tripped; losing their balance and tumbling to the ground. Before they could recover their balance Xuko was there, and a few moments later the Bothan was restrained.

The Bothan wasn't the most impressive catch, in Xuko's opinion, but the traits that made them entirely forgettable most likely served them well when it came to gathering information. A slightly smaller stature than many of their kind, combined with drab, nondescript clothing would make it easy for them to blend into the masses. They carried little in the way of weapons or possessions, save for a small holdout blaster, a small vibroknife, a few credits, and some form of contraband. Yet the Bothan constantly searched for information; eyes flicking here and there, ears telescoping as they heralded Xian's approach.

Xuko grunted his agreement as she suggested relocating to a service corridor, and hauled the Bothan to its feet. Xian's mettle equaled that of some of the Jedi he'd gotten to know, and her quiet confidence radiated out. The Iridonian realized that, despite her age, he'd somehow found himself in the company of one of the most capable people on Bastion. Xian didn't ponder, she analyzed; always with the next step in mind.

She certainly was no stranger to getting information from people, one way or another. Xuko watched the Bothan's Adam's apple bob nervously at the implied threat. The Zabrak raised both eyebrows slightly and shrugged as he caught their captive looking at him pleadingly. "She is telling the truth" Xuko assured him, crossing his arms and settling in to watch.

He wouldn't allow any torture of their captive, but Xuko was curious to see what Xian's approach was.

Xian Xiao

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian didn't answer Xuko right away. She didn't need to. The faint shift in her expression, small, satisfied, almost polite, said enough. He understood. And more importantly, he didn't interfere.

Her gaze lingered on the Bothan just a moment longer, letting the silence settle around him like a tightening loop. Then she stepped in, taking the opposite side of their captive. Not touching at first. Just closing the space, shaping the path forward so he had nowhere simple to slip, nowhere that wasn't through her.

"C'mon," she said, quiet and even.

Not a suggestion. A direction.

Her hand rose to his arm, light but certain, guiding him into motion. The pressure wasn't forceful; it didn't have to be. The line behind them, the crates, the murmuring ripple of attention all fell away as she steered them toward a narrower corridor.

"I'll grab the rations later," Xian added, glancing to Xuko with an easy, almost conversational tone. "I'm sure there'll be more where this came from. Right?"

The casualness was deliberate. Too smooth. Too knowing. A soft invitation for the Bothan to decide how honest he wanted to be, and how quickly.

Her grip shifted just slightly as they walked, not tightening, just reminding him she was still there, still guiding, still in control. The noise of the main corridor dulled behind them as the passage narrowed, shadows settling closer.

"I know where we can take him," she said, her voice lowering, pleasant but edged with something colder beneath. "Quieter. No interruptions."

Her eyes flicked to Xuko, steady and aligned, then back to the Bothan.

"Gives you a little time to think about what you want to say," she added lightly, as if discussing weather or supply counts. A beat of silence. "Before we have to start asking properly."

Xuko Pagoi

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

As they marched the Bothan to the service corridor, Xuko quietly examined them for possible identifying marks- jewelry, tattoos, and the like. He wouldn't be able to interpret them, of course, but perhaps Xian could. However, he couldn't perceive anything obvious, and his search meant that he almost missed XIan's subtle misdirection. Implying that the weapons aren't there. Clever. It also hinted that she likely intended to let the Bothan go at some point, since it would most certainly report back to its superiors the false information. Xuko wasn't confident that it would be enough to prevent whichever group this Bothan was a part of from investigating further, but it might buy them time. The Zabrak simply grunted his agreement.

By the time the three of them reached the service corridor, though, Xuko could tell that the Bothan had chosen to be tight-lipped. It was possible that they'd grown a spine during the walk over, but Xuko guessed that the more likely reason was that the Bothan had remembered that they were more afraid of their employer than they were of two teenagers.

All the same, Xuko knew that he and Xian had to try. He decided for the direct approach.

"You were watching us. Why?"

Xian Xiao

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian let Xuko take the first question, choosing not to interrupt or step in too early. Instead, she eased back against the cool wall of the service corridor, arms folding across her chest in a posture that looked loose enough to pass for disinterest at a glance, but only at a glance. Her body was relaxed, yes, but her attention was anything but.

Her eyes stayed on the Bothan. Watching. Waiting. Measuring the way he breathed, the way his ears twitched, the way his weight shifted as if he were trying to decide whether he was cornered or simply unlucky.

The silence stretched just long enough to matter, long enough to make him feel its shape, before he finally answered, his voice tight and pitched too high for the casual tone he was trying to imitate.

"I wasn't watching you," he said quickly. "I was checking the crates. Same as him."

Xian didn't blink. Didn't shift. Didn't offer him even the smallest sign that she believed him. "…you ran," she said quietly, the words soft but carrying a weight that made them feel heavier than anything spoken aloud should have. Not accusing. Just stating the fact that he was trying to pretend didn't matter.

The Bothan's ears flicked again, his stance tightening as though he could feel the ground narrowing beneath him. "I run when things look bad," he replied, sharper now, defensive in a way that betrayed more than he meant it to. "You jumped a line and started chasing me. What was I supposed to do?"

Xian tilted her head slightly, as though she were turning his answer over in her mind, examining it from every angle and finding it thinner each time she looked. "Maybe," she allowed, her tone even and deceptively mild, the kind of mildness that left no room for comfort, only the awareness that she was giving him rope and watching what he did with it.

Then she stepped forward, not abruptly, but with a slow, deliberate ease that brought her into his focus again, making it impossible for him to look anywhere else without feeling like he was making a mistake.

"If you were checking the crates," Xian said, her voice calm and precise, each word placed with the care of someone tightening a snare, "which ones?"

She let the question hang there, not rushing him, not filling the silence, simply letting him feel the weight of having to choose an answer he couldn't afford to get wrong. "Because you picked the wrong moment to leave," she continued, her gaze steady and unblinking. "Right after we opened one."

Her voice didn't rise. Didn't sharpen. But it narrowed, tightening around him like a closing corridor, leaving him fewer and fewer places to stand. "So why that one?"

Xuko Pagoi

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

Xuko wasn't familiar at all with Bothan emotions, but he decided that he was watching the Bothan squirm under Xian's questioning. The Zabrak had to admit that the "evidence" the two of them had was circumstantial, but Xian proceeded with a confidence that made it seem like she knew everything. She'd done this before, he realized, deciding that when it was appropriate that he'd be asking Xian some questions, too. Although it was entirely possible that she simply enjoyed the thrill of uncovering a mystery, he hadn't expected to find such a capable ally in the food line.

The Bothan, for their part, apparently decided to bluster their way out. "I ran because he chased me!" the Bothan said, pointing at Xuko. "He's the one you should be questioning, not me!"

Xuko's nostrils flared as he felt his temper rising. This was going nowhere, and every moment spent arguing with the Bothan increased the chances that one of the other workers cracked open the compromised crates.

"You work for someone" Xuko said, cutting off the Bothan's indignant protests. "Who?"

Xian Xiao

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian didn't react to the outburst. Not to the accusation, not to the attempt at deflection, not even to the way the Bothan tried to redirect the focus toward anything that might pull attention away from the place he didn't want it to land. She had already seen the maneuver for what it was, a grasping, reflexive reach for misdirection, and she let it pass without giving him the satisfaction of a visible response.

Her gaze stayed on him, steady and unmoved, the kind of stillness that made it clear she wasn't waiting for him to calm down so much as watching to see what he did next.

The silence that followed Xuko's question stretched just long enough to matter. The Bothan's jaw tightened, his ears pulling back as he shook his head with a little too much force.

"I don't work for anyone," he said, the words coming out too quickly, too firmly, as if speed alone could make them true. "You've got nothing. I was just checking crates. That's it."

Xian's expression didn't shift, not even by a fraction. "…no," she said quietly, the word soft but carrying the weight of a conclusion already reached. "That's not it."

She stepped forward again, closing the distance by only a small amount, but enough that he would feel the change in proximity, not crowded, but unmistakably within reach. Her eyes flicked once to his hands, then back to his face, the brief assessment as precise as recalibrating a tool she already understood.

"You saw something you weren't supposed to," she continued, her voice even, almost contemplative, as though she were simply laying out the logic of a system she had already mapped. "Or you were making sure someone else wouldn't miss it."

A small pause followed, deliberate rather than dramatic.

"And when we opened the wrong crate," she added, her tone softening in a way that somehow made the words sharper, "you ran."

This time, the Bothan didn't answer. His jaw locked, his eyes darting once toward Xuko and then back to her, the refusal written in the tension of his shoulders rather than in anything he said.

Xian held his gaze for a moment longer, then slowly raised her hand.

Just one finger.

The air around it shifted, subtle at first, then tightened as heat gathered, coiling into a small, controlled flame that hovered just above her fingertip. It wasn't large, wasn't meant to be. It was the kind of flame that didn't need to be touched to make its presence known. Warmth brushed against fur.

"You know," Xian said lightly, her tone almost conversational, as if she were commenting on the weather rather than threatening a man in a dim corridor, "fur like yours…" She tilted her head slightly, studying him with the same calm precision she used when examining a malfunctioning component. "…catches faster than people think."

The Bothan went still, not frozen, not panicked, but acutely aware of exactly how close she was and how little effort it would take for that flame to become something else entirely.

"I don't need to hurt you," she continued, her voice lowering just a fraction, the softness making the words land heavier. "I don't even need to burn much." The flame drifted a little closer, not touching, but close enough that the heat shifted from theoretical to uncomfortable.

"Just enough to make a point." Another pause, quiet, controlled, intentional.

Then, calm and precise: "Who do you work for?" The Bothan swallowed, the crack in his composure finally showing at the edges. "…I don't—"

Xian's finger twitched. The flame flared, only slightly, but enough. "Red Ravens," he blurted, the words breaking free before he could stop them. "Alright? I pass information to the Red Ravens. That's it."

The flame stilled. Xian watched him for another heartbeat, then let the fire shrink, the heat dissipating as the flame vanished entirely, leaving no trace it had ever existed.

"…that wasn't so hard," she said quietly, the words almost gentle. But her eyes had already shifted away from him, her mind moving ahead, calculating the next step with the same cold clarity she had brought to this one.

Xuko Pagoi

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

Xuko resisted the urge to grab the Bothan and shake, telling himself that it would not get them anywhere and also that the Jedi would not approve of such tactics. The Zabrak ran through his very short list of alternative options... arrest, imprisonment, or trying to see if anyone in the long line knew the Bothan.

The impasse was broken by Xian, and the Bothan's eyes weren't the only ones which widened at the appearance of flame; hovering just above Xian's finger, like a candle. Hastily, Xuko rearranged his features so as to provide a united front, but he need not have worried; the flame and Xian's threat had captivated the Bothan's attention and quickly compelled an answer.

So Xian was capable of creating flame from nothing! Xuko searched his scant memories for any information on such a power, and predictably came up empty; however, judging by the look that the Bothan was giving Xian even after she'd extinguished the flame it couldn't have been a common ability.

"I am sorry about this" Xuko said to the Bothan, even though he wasn't. A quick rap to the side of the Bothan's skull laid the humanoid out senseless, and Xuko settled the Bothan down in a sitting position against the wall. When they came to, they'd have a headache, but Xuko could almost see the wheels turning in Xian's mind as she processed the information. Xuko found himself with more questions; not for the Bothan, but for Xian. They could always ask the Bothan more questions when they came to, but before anythign proceeded, Xuko needed to get a couple things straight with Xian.

"I have two questions for you" he said, turning his full attention to the woman once he was certain the Bothan was, in fact, unconscious. "First, who are the Red Ravens? And second, is this something that you wish to get more involved in, or not?" So far Xian had been an exceedingly capable ally, but he had to sound out her motives, first.

Xian Xiao

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian watched the Bothan go down without flinching. There was a brief tightening at the corner of her eyes when Xuko struck him, not shock, not disapproval, just the involuntary wince that came with seeing impact up close, and then it passed as quickly as it surfaced. When the Bothan slumped against the wall and finally stopped struggling, she let out a slow breath, some of the tension easing now that the immediate problem had gone still.

"That… works," she murmured, the words quiet, almost to herself, though there was a faint note of acknowledgment in them, a small recognition of efficiency rather than judgment.

Her attention shifted back to Xuko as he turned toward her, the weight of his questions settling between them. For a moment, she didn't answer, her gaze drifting to the unconscious Bothan and then down the corridor, already thinking ahead, already mapping what came next. At the mention of the Red Ravens, she shook her head once, simple and direct.

"No," she said. "I've heard the name now, but that's it."

There was no hesitation in the admission, no attempt to fill in gaps she didn't have or pretend at knowledge she didn't possess. Her eyes lifted back to his, steadier now.

"Yes," she added after a beat, the certainty settling into her voice with quiet finality. "I want to help."

There was no bravado in it, no need to prove herself, only a decision made cleanly and without ceremony. She shifted her weight slightly, glancing down at the Bothan again before looking back up, her tone settling into something more practical, more grounded.

"We can take him to the Crucible," Xian said. "It's close enough from here, and they'll know what to do with him."

A small pause followed, her voice lowering just a fraction.

"And it's somewhere he won't disappear before we get answers."

She didn't look away this time. She didn't need to. The next step was already forming in her mind, and she was ready to move with it.

Xuko Pagoi

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

Xuko's hopes that Xian knew about the Red Ravens were dashed, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Although the group had designs on some pretty serious firepower, if the name wasn't in the common lexicon then perhaps it was closer to "street gang" than "cartel".

All the same, it left Xuko with questions; such as what to do with the unconscious Bothan. One option was to tie him up and leave him, buying them a few hours' time in theory, but that was no guarantee of silence since anyone from a kind passerby to a fellow Red Raven sent to check in on the missing informant could free the Bothan. Another more extreme option was to kill the Bothan, but Xuko didn't think that the situation warranted it.

Fortunately, Xian supplied an answer to that question. Xuko did not know what the Crucible was, but it sounded impressive enough to be a government building or secure location of sorts. Xuko side-eyed the unconscious Bothan, deciding that perhaps he'd hit them a little too hard.

"Tell me about the Crucible" Xuko said, deciding that the two of them had another minute or two before the Bothan came to.

A pause.

"And also why you wish to help with this." There was no distrust in his tone, but rather a simple request. Although Xuko was impressed at Xian's mettle and selflessness, he wanted to know just how far he could trust her. Someone trying to win a larger portion of food was less reliable in a fight than someone with more firm motives.

Xian Xiao

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian glanced at the Bothan when Xuko mentioned the Crucible, gauging the slow rise and fall of his breathing, estimating how long they had before he came back around. Then her attention shifted back to Xuko, her posture settling into something measured rather than defensive, as though she wanted to be precise about what she said next.

"It's not what it used to be," she began, her tone practical, as if she were clearing away an assumption before it could take root. "The Crucible used to be tied to the Sith when the Diarchy was whole. Training, control, power… all of that."

She let a small pause settle between them, not dramatic, just enough to mark the shift in meaning.

"It isn't that anymore."

Her gaze drifted briefly down the corridor, taking in the quiet stretch of metal and shadow before returning to him.

"Now it's more stable," Xian continued, her voice steady but carrying a faint undercurrent of something more personal. "Still structured. Still guarded. But it's one of the few places left on Bastion where things don't just disappear if no one's watching." Her eyes flicked toward the Bothan again, the implication clear. "People get processed. Questioned. Held."

Another pause followed, softer this time, as though she were letting the weight of that settle before she added, "Which is what we need right now."

She shifted her weight slightly, her arms loosening at her sides as the second question settled in. That one took longer. For a moment, she didn't answer at all, her gaze dropping. Not to avoid him, but to gather the thought, to decide how much of it she was willing to let surface.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, not uncertain, but careful in a way that suggested the words mattered more than she wanted to admit.

"I used to be Jedi," Xian said.

Simple. Direct. But not easy.

She didn't look away when she said it, though something flickered in her expression, a brief shadow of memory she didn't elaborate on.

"They teach you things," she continued after a moment, her tone steadying again. "Not just how to fight. How to look at people. How to see them as more than what they are in the moment."

Her eyes drifted toward the corridor they had come from, toward the line and the people still waiting, the ones who had been caught in something they didn't understand.

"That part stuck," she said quietly.

A slow breath left her, grounding her again before she lifted her gaze back to him fully.

"And this," she added, nodding faintly toward the unconscious Bothan, "doesn't feel like something you ignore and walk away from."

There was no performance in it, no attempt to impress or justify herself. Just the truth as she understood it, spoken plainly and without embellishment.

"I don't know how far this goes yet," she said, her voice returning to that practical steadiness she always fell back on. "But I know it's already bigger than a food line."

Xuko Pagoi

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

Ah. The Crucible had connections to the Sith... as did the Diarchy, from the sounds of things. And although Xuko doubted that much had changed since the Diarchy's fall, he couldn't think of a better alternative. Leaving the Bothan in the hands of the other relief workers was a huge security concern, depending on how desperate the Red Ravens were to keep the Bothan from talking. A token security force traveled with the relief workers, but not enough to dissuade any serious threats. And, as Xuko had already considered, letting the Bothan go wasn't an option either.

"Very well. But they will be treated humanely there" Xuko said, inviting Xian to disagree if that wouldn't be the case. There was no honor in harming defenseless creatures.

Her answer to his other question was far more revealing, and Xuko marveled at how it echoed his previous thoughts. It also answered several other ones he had about her, too- like how she managed to stay so composed in high-pressure situations, her knack for observation, and, most importantly, her concern for the wellbeing of others. Xuko decided that he could continue to trust her.

The Zabrak momentarily left to handle the redistribution of the food, as well as to work with the other aid workers to implement Xian's suggestion of smaller portions. The compromised crates were quietly moved away from the food line and out of the public's sight, lessening the chance that prying eyes might identify the containers.

Xuko finished the tasks with efficiency and returned just as the Bothan was stable enough to walk. The Zabrak hauled them to their feet, giving a curt nod to Xian. "Lead on to the Crucible." At his words, the Bothan moaned; whether in discomfort or in dismay Xuko couldn't tell.

All the Zabrak knew was that, for some unexplained reason, he had a bad feeling about this.

Xian Xiao

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian caught the concern in his voice before he even finished speaking, the way he framed it, careful but firm, already weighing the line between necessity and restraint. She didn't answer immediately, her gaze drifting briefly to the Bothan, then back to Xuko as if confirming the shape of the situation before committing to it.

"He won't be harmed," she said at last, her tone quiet but certain, not defensive, not dismissive, just… sure. A small pause followed, her expression settling into something more thoughtful.

"With the Diarchy gone, the Crucible has changed," Xian continued, her eyes flicking briefly toward the corridor before returning to him. "It's not what it used to be." She shifted her weight slightly, her posture relaxing just a fraction without losing awareness.

"It's still an institution for learning," she added, more deliberately now. "Not a prison." Another brief pause, enough to let the distinction settle. "But it's still probably the most secure place on Bastion," she finished, her tone returning to something more practical. "And it's at the center of the city. Nothing moves through there without someone knowing."

She held his gaze for a moment longer, not pushing, not trying to convince him beyond what she had already said. Then she let it go.

While Xuko stepped away to handle the line, Xian remained with the Bothan, her attention settling on him with the same quiet precision she used when assessing a situation she refused to underestimate. She didn't crowd him or posture, but her presence stayed fixed and deliberate, a calm barrier that made it clear he wasn't slipping anywhere unnoticed. Every small shift he made registered in her awareness, not with suspicion, but with the steady vigilance of someone who had learned the cost of assuming a threat was finished simply because it had stopped moving.

The sounds of the relief effort shifted around them as Xuko put her suggestions into motion. The rhythm of the line steadied, the tension eased, and the compromised crates disappeared from sight. Xian tracked it all on the periphery, her focus widening and narrowing in quiet intervals, making sure nothing in the environment changed in a way that mattered.

By the time Xuko returned, the Bothan was conscious enough to stand, though unsteady, his balance still unreliable. Xian stepped back just enough to give Xuko room to take hold of him again, her gaze flicking between them once before settling forward.

At his nod, she answered with one of her own. "Alright," she said, already turning.

She moved with a steady, unhurried pace, guiding them out of the service corridor and into a quieter stretch of the district. Her awareness widened as they transitioned back into open space, mapping exits, movement, and the subtle shifts in the crowd that could signal a turn of attention toward them.

"We won't take the main paths," she said over her shoulder, her voice low but clear, shaped by practicality rather than caution. "Too exposed."

She adjusted their direction with a small, deliberate shift, angling them toward a narrower passage that cut between two storage wings.

"There's a service route that runs closer to the center," she continued, her tone smoothing into something more certain. "Less traffic. Fewer eyes. And it keeps us off the routes anyone would expect."

Another few steps carried them deeper into the quieter stretch, the noise of the relief effort fading behind them.

"If someone's already looking for him," Xian said, her voice dropping into something quieter, more focused, "we shouldn't make it easy."

She didn't look back as she said it, but the steadiness in her posture made it clear she was already thinking several steps ahead — not out of fear, but out of the same controlled, deliberate instinct that had guided her from the moment she first saw the Bothan run.

And she kept moving, expecting Xuko to follow.

Xuko Pagoi

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

Xuko followed where Xian led, shepherding the Bothan ahead of him. As a precaution, he'd bound the Bothan's hands behind their back and put a gag in their mouth. The last thing he and Xian needed was attention pulled their way, or an escape attempt. Xian seemed to be of the same mindset, taking the three of them to a lesser-used service route.

As they walked, Xuko tried to strike a balance between staying alert and staying calm. In an unsettled, unfamiliar world like Bastion, it was a difficult line to walk. Every noise, movement, or new humanoid could be a Red Raven informant or sympathizer; or else one of the countless other factions striving for control and power in the post-Diarchy era who might see opportunity in a couple of young adults out and about. In situations like these, Xuko knew that appearances went a long way; and unfortunately for them, he was less-intimidating than many of his kind because of his shorter stature.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Xuko stretched out his senses as the Jedi had taught him to. The result was less stressful than his first attempt; why exactly Xuko could not articulate, but his heart rate returned to something more normal after a minute or so.

So, too, did the feeling of being watched; not born out of anxiety this time, but from careful observation.

"I believe we are being followed" Xuko said to Xian, his voice casual; as if the two of them were having a conversation. "One block back, along the buildings on our left side." He wouldn't turn his head as he indicated their suspected pursuer; that would give it away. He'd have to rely on Xian to give advice on how to handle this. "What options do we have?"

Xian Xiao