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Space station, Hutt Space, 5 ATC
He had lost his Master in the crowds, making use of his smaller stature to dart away and disappear. Hopefully he was heading in the right direction, after all, Master was a rather intimidating crimson Sith Lord. Tall, red, bald, wiggly face tendrils, creeping dread following his every move, Sithy. Maybe that is why Lord-Creeping-Dread had opted to take a tiny, tanned, black haired, scruffy human like him - he was easy to order around, lightning is something best to avoid.
Master had mentioned a Jedi here, in many colourful ways and giving many revolting details of what he would do to said Jedi if he were given the chance. This was exactly what he had been looking for, and he wasn't going to pass it up, that was the plan after all.
Hiding himself behind some of the cargo near the docking ring, he watched and waited for any Jedi going by; hoping that the squeak his bare feet made on the metal wasn't overheard. He did know typical Jedi dress, his Master had brought in Jedi before...and then had done things to them...wait! Jedi! Green eyes shifted onto a distinctive form dressed in very obvious and common brown and cream robes of a Jedi, being escorted by several Republic troopers. Iktotchi, he believed, he had seen some in slave pens when he was younger. Hopefully his shielding of his presence worked, though that he hadn't been immediately noticed was reassuring on that front, as he crept between the crates that were starting to be loaded onboard the ship the Jedi had just entered. Silently, he slipped into one of those crates, and was for once grateful of being on the smaller side.
He was successfully loaded on board the Republic ship without incident, or so he hoped. Gently, he pushed up the lid of the crate – his apologies to the meiloorun melons he had squished during his transport – and looked around. Definitely a Republican ship, judging from the markings on the bulkheads; definitely a cargo hold, given the stacks of crates; and definitely no red Sith, he couldn't sense any creeping dread. He breathed a sigh of relief, pushing the lid of the crate off entirely and letting it clatter loudly to the floor.
...and calling the attention of two Republican troopers chatting by the door.
He hadn't been attempting to sense if there was anyone except Sith.
Oops...
Shots fired. To him, they seemed to move in slow motion – he somehow knew where they were going to hit, and he had best not be there when they did. He scrambled away, tripping on his own bare feet as more blaster bolts followed behind him. Fleeing behind one of the stacks of fruit crates, he panicked.
“Stop! Wait! I just want to speak to the Jedi!” This was quickly followed by him slapping both his hands across his mouth – since having been born a slave on Dromund Kaas and only having had Imperial masters, his accent was very distinctively Imperial. This did make the Republican troopers stop firing at him, but only to charge at his position in order to arrest him instead.
He muttered a string of curses directed at himself as he was roughly lifted from behind the crates, restrained, and frogmarched out of the door by the two very angry – wow are they angry! - troopers.
“I want to talk to the Jedi! Let me see the Jedi!” He protested to the troopers as they led him along the corridor to who knows where, his heavy Dromund Kaas accent was clearly making these men more angry.
“Shut it Imp!” The one on the right was stoic and gruff.
“Just what you want – sneak in, kill the Jedi.” The one on the left was the opposite, “Just because the war is over for now, doesn't mean you can dilly-dally your way onto one of our ships. Probably one of them Sith.”
“A Sith would have shoe-ow!” The left trooper had butted the back of his head with the end of his blaster. He grumbled but continued walking in silence as he was led to the brig.
He paced around the cell moodily – he had been able to get successfully to the ship, and even onto it, only to stumble at the last hurdle and open his big mouth! No chance that he would be able to see the Jedi now, they would probably...actually, he had no idea what they would do to him. Would they throw him from an airlock like several of his masters have threatened before or something else? Now that he thought about it, what would the Republic do with an Imperial like him?
This would be answered soon enough, as just beyond his cell's force field he spotted a visitor watching him. The Iktotchi Jedi, flanked by two troopers warning her to “not approach the Sith!” She waved the troopers to silence and came closer to the field.
“You are Maccias, the Imperial slave?” His jaw dropped at the question, and he stared at her in confusion.
“How-?”
“I had a vision that you would come.” She spoke matter-of-factly, “A force-sensitive Imperial slave sneaking away from his Sith master to become a Jedi.” His only response was to silently nod. The Jedi turned to the brig console and deactivated the force field.
“Well Maccias, you shall be taken then to Tython. We shall see if you are to be trained as a Jedi. You shall be kept under my watch at all times until we arrive.”
“T-thank you! Thank you so much!” Despite the unexpected setbacks, in the end the plan had actually worked after all.