They walked together in the silence that was their mutual home, following the accumulation of sentient life, of lights, of the calls of marketeers, until the sounds of their worn boots scraping against the dirt were all but memory. Periodically, the sand would kick up, blowing harshly upon her scarf-bundled face, burying all paths but the destination in mind. It was in these moments that Leia would trundle up beside him, reaching for his hand – the soft pads of his fingers in stark contrast to the tactical glove that surrounded it.
He raised an arm over his face, shielding himself from the storm – leading though blinded, but it didn’t matter. It was not comfort she sought, for their lives were harsh, and they, no exception. His manner, his words – they offered little.
It was enough to know that she wasn’t alone anymore.
Milo and Leia finally reached the security bottleneck, the droid security purchased from his former employer, Hegemonic Automaton, lighting a small candle of familiarity somewhere in the recesses of his mind, burning not quite bright enough to reveal a model name. He recognized it solely by the artistic aesthetic provided by the designer…that, and the brand logo emblazoned upon the chassis. As it became their turn, Milo crossed the threshold, depositing a 10 credit chip in the designated area – the price of a single admission.
Twin voices like a frog talking from the inside of an oven thanked the bounty hunter for his patronage.
“Thank You. Please enjoy the -- Caution. Failure to comply with admission protocol will result in being flagged as a security risk.”
The droid switched on a dime, apparently taking umbrage at Leia’s passage through the turnstile. Milo pivoted on his heel, caustically spitting back with his own umbrage regarding admission prices for sentient life without their own wallet.
“She’s with me. I promise, she’s not in the market for a flamethrower.”
And with that, he continued on.
There was a hum of mounting energy, a smooth whir of precision servos, as the droid’s hips swiveled its upper torso so as to align with Milo – Android aggressive body posture, like a primate beating its chest, baring its teeth. It reasserted itself, its employer.
“Warning. You are in danger of becoming a security risk. Becoming a security risk may result in damage to one’s person and/or death.”
Milo stepped to it, bridging the gap, checking it back with a sharp push to the chest.
“Is that a threat?” The droid was moved slightly, Milo’s strength evident, and perhaps even impressive, if only it was enough. The machine was simply too heavy, too formidable. It could tear the man apart. The remaining queue winced, knowing this at once.
As did Leia, clearly distressed at what was occurring. It was this that Milo took notice.
“Threat Assessment. Target has become hostile. Assessing methods for detainment.”
Fishing another ten credit chip from his pocket, he slapped it rather unceremoniously upon the designated area. The droid seemed satisfied, returning to its original position with its attention on the chokepoint.
“Thank You. Please enjoy the South Systems Business Bazaar Expo.”
Leia was breathing heavily, her face red.
“Calm down,” he said softly, a little embarrassed. His hand on her shoulder, he guided her away from the entrance
“We’re okay.”
It was Tatooine, alright, he peripherally recalled, a nuance to its character once more revealing itself as the two ventured into the main bazaar. It had slipped his notice that he wasn’t frisked of his scattergun, his knife, at the entrance, but he was suddenly very aware of their presence as he looked out onto the sea of scumbags and villainy and ne’er-do-wells and vigilantes. Mandalorians in full beskargam. Jedi with their sabers dangling from their waist. Everybody, everybody – straight fething strapped. All permissible, so long as it was personal defense. It seemed faux pas to be dressed for war.
The Hekler’Kok booth caught his eye initially (then made it roll when he saw Corek’s Omega Pyre emblem), drawn by his taste for heavier arms. Traditionally, he wasn’t interested in the brand due to its penchant for making every piece of its arsenal resemble a retro slugthrower --
Hell, its interest in manufacturing the vintage tech at all; but there was no denying the stopping power of the Z-24 Rotary Blaster Cannon or the MISS-1.
If Akk Akk were still around, he would’ve picked them up in a heartbeat.
“Hello, boys…”
From the crowd, roars of approval, cat-calls, wolf-whistles, and general animal noises. Leia looked around confusedly, not really getting the fuss behind the hologram. Milo folded his arms over his chest, his default scowl failing to hide the hint of amusement cracking a grin into the corner of his mouth.
Leia looked up at him, shrugging her one-armed shrug.
“So with that, my darlin’s, I welcome you to the third Semi-Annual Southern Systems Business Expo and Auction!”
Cue the montage:
Over in the farmer’s market, Milo’s crunching numbers as Leia loses her mind picking out fruits and vegetables of a variety of different colors and shapes. He considers himself fortunate that the rarity of food in general has made it so he doesn’t have to impress upon her the value of broccoli and squash and onion and banana.
♫A-tisket, a-tasket…A brown and yellow basket♫
♫I sent a letter to my mommy and on the way, I dropped it♫
She starts picking out spices, less based on flavor and more based on what it does to her nose. Curry is a favorite, though Milo has no idea how to properly prepare any of this. He selects a cookbook and schedules a delivery to the hangar.
♫I dropped it, I dropped it -- Yes, on the way I dropped it♫
♫A little girlie picked it up…And put it in her pocket♫
Passing by InVal Cybernetics, Milo checked their budget. A new arm for Leia? Yeah, it was in the cards.
♫She was truckin' on down the avenue, but not a single thing to do♫
♫She went peck, peck, pecking all around -- When she spied it on the ground♫
She was sized up, the color selected, and all was well as she went to the table with the doctor. Milo sat in a nearby waiting area, glancing over the provided reading material.
♫She took it, she took it….My little yellow basket♫
Reminded too much of Korriban, Leia began screaming. Milo dashed over to the table.
♫And if she doesn't bring it back……….I think that I will diiiie♫
After a few moments, Leia trundled out with her boo-boo face, Tyger Tyger behind her. Shortly after, a disgruntled surgeon, clutching his jaw in disbelief.
♫ ♪♫ ♪♫
There was a brief incident with an Ayden Cater lookalike. Turned out, it was just one more smuggler dude adopting the style of that famed smuggler of the Old Republic era whose name is since lost to time.
♫A-tisket, a-tasket…I lost my yellow basket
♫And if that girlie don't return it…Don't know what I'll do
The two wandered over to complete their shopping list, heading over to the meat stall. Raw animal flesh dangled from the butcher shop windows. Of course, to dispel any perceptions that the meat may be counterfeit, so did the live animal in cages behind them, ready to be diced up at the consumer’s request. Leia began screaming and they quickly left the area.
♫Oh geeeee, I wonder where my basket can beeeee♫
♫(So do we, so do we, so do we, so do we, so do we)♫
At the carousel, Leia went round and round on a pink tauntaun. By pass four, it was clear she was about to fall asleep.
♫Oh deaaaar, I wish that little girl, I could seeeee♫
♫(So do we, so do we, so do we, so do we, so do we)♫
Another Ayden Cater lookalike. Milo found Leia running in circles around him, eager to help. Upon further inspection, he was a Polis Massan, and what the hell, Leia?
She shrugged hopelessly. He shrugged back.
♫Oh, why was I so careless with that basket of mine?♫
♫That itty bitty basket was a joy of mine♫
Milo found himself at the Browncoat Arms and Industrial sale, Alisha’ven making a convincing argument for the BA-834 Crossbow. He had taken it over to the practice range to experiment with the different bolts, glancing back periodically to see Leia. She looked infinitely bored, crouched by a fence, head in hand.
A-tisket! A-tasket! I lost my yellow basket!
Suddenly, he looked up to see her bothering yet another gentleman in a duster and hat, pulling on the tails of his jacket in an effort to restrain him. He’d turned, raising his fist to her.
♫Won't someone help me find my basket -- And make me happy again, again?♫
And Milo caught it, decking him soundly.
(Was it green?) ♫No no no noooo♫
Back at the vegetable section, Leia picked out even more brightly colored fruits and vegetables to remedy the loss of meat, while Milo sheepishly exchanged the old cookbook for a new one. Apparently, they were vegetarian now. She was smiling.
(Was it red?) ♫No, no, no, noooo♫
Milo pretended to be purchasing a swoop, forcing the intendant to take Leia out on test drive after test drive, each grin bigger than the last. They bought nothing.
(Was it blue?) ♫NO! NO! NO! NOOOOO!♫
Hearing the familiar robo-frog voice of the security droids, they both fled the scene of the KO’d smuggler, Leia’s limb and a half flailing ridiculously in the air.
♫Just a little yellow baskettttttttttt♫
The two sad on a bench enjoying an ice cream cone, Leia just going HAM, as, as Milo guessed, it was her first encounter with the treat. The sand kicked up and while Milo blocked, Leia failed, covering half of her ice cream cone in sand.
♫ ♪♫ ♪♫
Milo simply traded her, licking the sand-free half. Leia smiled, but insisted on sharing. And so, they enjoyed their ice cream midst the desert’s binary sunset.
♫A littttttttttle yellowwwwww baskettttttttttttttttttt♫
