BALANCE | A Star Wars story

XII

     The door leads into a small room that has a small bar tucked into the corner, the bartender stands cleaning a glass somewhat menacingly. Pressed along the sides are deep red padded seats with long tables stationed in front of them, a few lone people are sat in said seats with their hands clutched around glasses as if it's their life line.

Netlin, as I can now see, is a mahogany Devaronian with short black horns protruding from his bald head. He is clothed in a dark coat that stretches down to touch his thighs and trousers to watch the colour of his coat.

Under the unzipped coat he wears midnight blue top and there is a blaster sheathed in a holder swinging from his belt.

I catch his eye, one covered by an eyepatch made of black cloth, he sneers at me and places his hand on his blaster. A warning. Do anything out of place and I won't hesitate to put a bullet through your head. That's what his eyes tell me anyway.

The Devaronian breaks eye contact and stalks to the other side of the bar where yet another door is, he knocks softly once.

"Erlend Hutt is here to see you, he brought a guest, should I let them in?" He says in a low gruff tone.

I glance at the Hutt and watch as his eyes wonder almost lazily over the tiny bar where every creature is now watching us -or more specifically me- with great interest. Despite the Hutt's relaxed stance I can tell he's still on edge, ready just in case of a fight.

I watch as the Hutt gives a small nod of recognition to the bartender who returns it without hesitation, his dark eyes focus on me menacingly and I shiver out of discomfort. For a moment the bar is dead silent, not a thing can be heard.

It's the kind of silence that rings in your ears and puts your whole body into fight or flight mode. It's the kind that fills you with a terrible sense of foreboding and leaves you questioning, what's going to happen next.

Then the force whispers a ghost of a warning as the door on the other side of the room swings open crashing against the metal wall. The sound makes the bartender and guests jump, thanks to the force I manage to hold steady as a shadow of a figure appears in the open doorway.

      The shadow steps into the hazy light of the bar and the black shadow moves to make way for a blue skinned Omwati.

      I can barely conceal my shock, I've only read about Omwati, Master Nilim would never take me to Omwat he said that the Republic wasn't on best terms with them and they prefer to be left alone.

      However the Omwati have always amazed me, their pale blue skin and crown of feathers that make up their hair, in the ancient texts they are described as bird like and thanks to the one standing in front of me I can confirm that description.

     This Omwati has feathers the colour of snow and large indigo eyes with features so delicate I feel as though they'd break under touch. They are dressed in blood red breeches topped with an obsidian belt with a silver buckle. They had a matching red shirt covered in a matching black waistcoat and a large hat that sat resting in their feathers. A small pistol is hanging loosely from their right hand and a large knife is slide into a buckle attached to their thigh.

"So—" the Omwati, in every book I've read it says that Omwati voices are like a birdsong but the Omwati in front of me proves that wrong. Their voice is low with an edge of danger and brings a small shiver to my spine as I tense, ready for whatever is about to happen. "—I thought I told you not to bring anymore of your playthings here, they're awfully annoying." The Omwati raises their head and looks over at me, her eyes scold me like I'm a child in trouble with their parents.

I about to speak up and insist that I am not and will not be a 'plaything' to the Hutt then the man himself replies in a cool voice.

"Actually, Nazaga, she is here to help me with a job."

"Not of her own free will, I'd suppose." the Omwati replies in an ice cold tone and I get the feeling that there's something I'm missing out on. "Besides I thought I told you not to return here."

"You did," the Hutt nods his head slightly, for a moment I see a flash of guilt cross his face. "But I really need a favour."

"And what makes you think I'm in the giving spirit, especially to you." A sneer forms on their face and the atmosphere is thick with tension, the others in the room are staring intently at their drinks and Netlin has a sudden interest in his boots.

"Okay I didn't come here to start another argument, I came to make a deal." The Hutt holds his hands up slightly as if in surrender.

"What happens if I don't want to make a deal with you?" I glance back and forth between the two, wondering what the kriffing hell I should do, I doubt you could cut the tension with a lightsaber that's how thick it is.

"You will," the Hutt gives the hint of a smile before continuing."How about we take this to your office yeah? I'm sure these nice people are getting fed up of this." Yes, yes we are.

"No," the Omwati sneers, hand now clutching the pistol tightly and I feel my hand automatically begin to inch towards my own, just in case. "You can say whatever it is that you want to say here, so all these 'nice people' will be able to witness it when it's you that gets rejected for once."

For a moment I think that the Hutt is going to argue but he just gives a small shrug of his shoulders and says, "okay."