First Reply Little Hutt, big Trouble

[Danai Eyan]

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Danai crouched beside the weathered hull of her starship, her eyes tracing the seam lines under the harsh glow of Nar Shaddaa's neon lights. The hum of the city-port vibrated through the metal beneath her fingers, mingling with the low roar of traffic on the skyways above. Around her, the starport pulsed with chaotic life: smugglers shouting over the din of unloading cargo, the hiss of hydraulic lifts, and the occasional spark of welding fire reflecting in her dark green eyes.

She ran her nails along the hull, feeling for dents, cracks, anything that might jeopardize the jump through the Outer Rim. The metal was warm in places, a reminder of the ship's recent docking after a long haul. Her prosthetic right hand clicked softly as she adjusted a panel near the intake, testing its latch and giving it a small, reassuring tug. Even in the midst of the city's ceaseless energy, she moved with methodical focus, a practiced rhythm born of years spent on the fringe.

Above her, neon advertisements flickered over the port, casting garish reflections on the ship's surface. She paused, squinting at a faint streak in the alloy, tracing it carefully. It wasn't serious, but Danai's attention to detail had saved her more times than she cared to count. Around her, the night buzzed with opportunity and danger alike.

But as soon as she straightened up to stand, there was a Zabrak woman in her face, thrusting a bundle of clothing toward her.

"Please — you have to take him. Just get him off Nar Shaddaa!" she hissed. Her bracelets jangled with her thrusting motions.

"Excuse me?" Danai took an involuntary step back, but she couldn't stop the woman from dropping the bundle into her arms.

"The baby — the Huttlet! Get him off Nar Shaddaa!" The Zabrak's eyes went wide. "Get him anywhere else — find a place, and you'll get paid!"

Danai's lekku swung with alarm. "I can't just take a baby… a Huttlet! Who — who does it belong to?"

"He's a child of one of the more powerful cartels here — I was tasked with getting him offworld, but my ship can't make it. Not with the damage we just took. Please, just get him away from here, or they'll kill him — the rival clans have lost their minds! Going after the next in line…"

The Zabrak looked around fervently.
"I have to go. I'm sure they've already spotted… just take this comm and make contact when you've found somewhere safe to drop him. They'll meet you, and pay you well for the trip…"

Then the woman was gone, disappearing into the crowd before Danai could stop her.

She looked down at the Huttlet, who appeared only vaguely startled from his sleep as he fixated on the red color of her lips.

Now what am I supposed to do?

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre had been there for less than a minute when everything went wrong.

She stood a short distance away from the ship, half in shadow, half in neon spill, her gray travel coat pulled close against Nar Shaddaa's perpetual grime and noise. She had come to the port for entirely different reasons. Quiet ones. Practical ones. The Force, as it so often did, had disagreed.

She felt it the instant the bundle changed hands.

Not the baby itself, not yet. The rupture around the moment. Panic, fear, urgency so sharp it cut through the ambient chaos like a blade. By the time the Zabrak woman vanished into the crowd, Iandre was already moving.

She stopped a few paces from Danai, not crowding her, not reaching for the child. Her posture was open, calm by intent rather than accident. Nar Shaddaa punished panic. So did babies.

Her eyes went first to the Huttlet.

Then back to Danai.

"Well," Iandre said quietly, voice steady enough to anchor a room, "that escalated quickly."

She let a small breath out through her nose, the faintest trace of dry humor, before it faded back into focus. Her attention sharpened, not on the crowds, but inward, brushing the Force lightly, carefully, the way one checked for fractures rather than threats.

The child was alive. Afraid, but not in immediate pain. The danger wasn't here yet.

"That woman was telling the truth about one thing," Iandre continued, lowering her voice further as a pair of dockhands passed too close for comfort. "Someone powerful wants that child alive. And someone equally powerful wants him very dead."

Her gaze flicked briefly to the skyways above, then to the ship's hull, assessing without touching.

"You didn't choose this," she said, meeting Danai's eyes at last. No judgment. No accusation. Just a fact. "But if you hand him back to the port authorities, he won't survive the hour. If you stay here, neither of you will."

A pause.

Then, softer.

"I'm Iandre. I can't tell you this will be easy. But I can tell you that you're not alone in it anymore."

She inclined her head toward the ship.

"If your vessel can still fly, even badly, we should get him off the moon before anyone realizes he's missing. I can help you find somewhere quiet to take him. Somewhere cartel eyes don't reach easily."

Another glance at the Huttlet, who was now blinking at the glow of passing speeders.

"And if you're wondering why I'm offering," she added, voice low and honest, "it's because the galaxy doesn't give you many chances to keep a child alive when powerful people decide they're expendable."

She held Danai's gaze, unwavering.

"So," Iandre said gently, "tell me what your ship needs. And tell me how fast you can leave."

Danai Eyan

 

[Danai Eyan]

Danai Eyan
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Danai had no sooner glanced back at her ship - The Cutlass - before there was another woman standing before her, except this one was shrouded in calm and cloaked mystique.

She cast her with a worried, dark expression as she listened to what she had to say.

Clearly she was offering to help - the why was still unclear, but at the moment she was too overwhelmed to refuse any information she could gather.

Maybe I don’t have to bear this alone…but I have to be careful. The Hutt Cartel could be worse than any pirates.

“Iandre.” Danai let the name roll off her tongue, as foreign as it sounded in her ears. She was now entrusting her life - and maybe this Huttlet’s life - to a human, if only for the next hour or two.

“I am Danai.” Her head snapped back around to her ship. “The ship just needs a small patch -just for a second. If you hold him - “ She moved to pass the heavy bundle toward the human woman, and her hand whirred - “I can get the torch and patch it in under a minute. Err…you can take him aboard the Cutlass.”

With the mysterious stranger now clutching their shared burden, she bustled away to find her toolbox somewhere next to the ship.

Iandre Athlea






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[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre accepted the bundle without hesitation, her arms adjusting instinctively to support the unfamiliar weight. The Huttlet shifted slightly, a soft sound bubbling from him as he settled against her, warm and alive in a way that cut cleanly through the neon haze and danger of Nar Shaddaa. She angled her body subtly, turning so her back was to the worst of the traffic lanes, positioning herself between the child and the chaos without making a show of it.

Her expression remained calm, but not distant. Focused. Present.

"I've got him," she said evenly, her voice low enough not to carry beyond Danai's immediate space. "Take the minute you need. I'll keep watch."

She glanced once toward the crowd, not searching faces so much as feeling for intent, letting the Force brush outward in a shallow, careful sweep. Fear. Greed. Curiosity. Too many eyes, but none fixed yet. Not locked.

Her gaze returned to Danai as the other woman moved for her tools.

"And Danai," Iandre added, not raising her voice, but anchoring it. "You're not wrong to be cautious. I won't move him, and I won't signal anyone. When you're done, we decide the next step together."

The Huttlet's attention fixed on the faint glow of a nearby sign, tiny hands shifting against the fabric. Iandre adjusted her hold again, one hand steady at his back, the other bracing his weight.

"You're doing the right thing," she said quietly, more reassurance than instruction. "You're not alone in this anymore."

Danai Eyan