Survivor: A Star Wars Story

Chapter XXVII

REINA TAUTASKI

The drink in Reina's cup sloshed this way and that with each tip, though her eyes were occupied with despondently watching the bimiza trees sway tranquilly, draping dappled spots through the window she leant against.  It was a cramped and niche establishment, a drying ember in comparison to the bonfire display of cantinas found on Coruscant and the likes.  How much time had exactly passed since they had set down was unclear, but the sun was edging lower and lower, currently resting a little away above the dancing fronds of the exotic trees.

The chime on the door twinkled as a couple walked in, nestling themselves in the far corner.  She kept a subtle eye on them but nothing seemed out the ordinary.  They muttered pointlessly, exchanging small talk.  She wished so badly that Ahsoka had come with: her heightened Togruta hearing senses would have been perfect for this.

Her depressed expression didn't escape Kenobi as he sipped his own strange herbal blend.  Why he was drinking a hot drink on such a warm day beat her, but little ever got in the way of Kenobi and tea (or caf if he was feeling extra stressed).  "Have patience Reina.  Something will turn up." he soothed.

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to.  I can practically hear you scowling."

She went back to people watching, taking a bored interest in a Rodian hunched over the bar.  Her nails drummed impatiently on the table as she groaned, "You were probably right.  This is a waste of time."

He returned, ever calmly; "Just: patience."

An exasperated sigh left her mouth but she did as he requested, shoving herself a little more into the corner of the booth.  Her tan tunic underneath her cloak was chafing uncomfortably, folded over on itself beneath the tuck of a wide trimmed belt that was starting to dig into her ribs from sitting with poor posture.  She fiddled with the flared sleeves at her wrists for what seemed like forever - they at least sat for another half-hour.  But still nothing happened.  No-one scurried in in a mad hurry.  No-one slipped stuff under the table with poor discretion.  Everyone kept ambling about their maddeningly calm lives.  She recalled the Pa'lowick mentioning something about tensions here because of the fighting - probably because Garqi sat on the very edge of Separatist space.  Should the Republic break through the disputed territories here, Garqi would be amongst the first systems to be assaulted.  Yet that omen seemed lackluster in the present, as if everyone's existence had been doped- no, waterboarded with anaesthetic.

Kenobi eyed someone else huddled at the bar, not far from the Rodian.  Creeping out of his seat, he said lowly, "I'm going to do some asking around.  Don't go anywhere."

Fed up, she grumbled, "No worries, I won't dine and dash."

Glimpsing at him infrequently to keep tabs, she mainly left him to his business, watching the door and sipping her drink without much interest in its flavour.  In the back of her mind she briefly wondered if he was about to piss some bar-goer off enough to make a commotion, as it wouldn't have been out the ordinary.  Yet the cantina stayed quiet, only pierced by the gentle, incessant chatter.

She rested her glass on her chin, wracking her brains and irresponsibly zoning out a little.  The drink itself was some cool remedy of herbs and flowers, not anything she had paid attention to when ordering.  Her gaze drifted to some signs on the wall.  She was a slow reader, so it look her some time to get through all the text, but it was boasting something about their caf prices - Garqi was a major agricultural centre for the cultivation of the crop apparently.

Then the rich smell of it overpowered her.  Light drained from the room as if being sucked up a straw.  Muffled and strained symphonies pushed themselves together until they formed a half-coherent rhythm, the wax and wane of casual conversation and terse yelling along with harsh metal scraping on stone.  A firm presence founded itself beneath her feet, tethering her to a rigid and lumpy surface, one she could only feel.  It was warm but spiced with the fresh brush of clean air on her skin, the heated currents passing unevenly as a vapid musical tone pieced itself together in her mind, like some nanodroids had infiltrated her body and were slowly hijacking her from the inside out.