Chapter Text
“Mos Eisley,” said the old Jedi Knight, as he and the young farm boy looked over the town built into the sand, “you’ll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.”
They had passed through the Stormtroopers with finessed ease, assisted by Old Ben’s use of the force. Luke parked his speeder beneath huge, worn, and run-down structures in the oldest part of the spaceport. Kenobi appeared to have a destination in mind, and with Luke in tow, headed towards the original blockhouses now named Chalmun’s Spaceport Cantina. Some of the patrons of the cantina Luke recognised, others he knew only by reputation. One such figure that commanded the attention of the cantina, was Boba Fett. Though his armour was chipped and looked as though it had seen better days, Luke knew better than to underestimate the Mandalorian bounty hunter. One had to only listen to the stories of Junkers and traders. He was formidable, unstoppable, and those stories were more than enough for Luke to pray he would never cross paths with the Jabba’s best bounty hunter.
“Do you think we’ll really find a pilot to take us to Alderaan here?”
Old Ben nodded, “most of the independent freighter pilots frequent this place, I would imagine we would find someone willing to take us, should the price be right.” The old Jedi Knight guided Luke towards the bar, “watch yourself, though. This place can be rough.”
Luke stuck close to Artoo and Threepio, as old Ben began to converse with the bartender. They were clearly familiar with one and other, and as the bartender brought forth Ben’s drink, the old Jedi master looked out into the murky depths of the cantina, aged eyes keeping an eye out for any person of interest.
Luke too stared around the cantina; eyes wide as he took in all kinds of beings the cantina drew in. There were creatures of all sorts here, creatures with one eye, creatures with thousands of eyes, scaled aliens made for the harshness of desert planets, and creatures covered in thick fur. Tentacles, claws, and hands were wrapped around glasses, and the bar was filled with a steady thrum of alien babble.
“We don’t serve their kind here.” A glaring form growled,
“What?” Luke replied rather dumbly, still reeling from the onslaught of cultures and creatures he had been exposed to.
“Your droids!” The bartender explained impatiently and gestured dismissively at the astromechs.
Luke peered over to where Artoo and Threepio, the droids in question, were hovering quietly by the steps.
“They’ll have to wait outside. I only carry stuff for organics, not,” he gazed over them with a face full of disgust, “mechanicals.”
Whilst Luke didn’t like the idea of kicking out Artoo and Threepio; he was worried that the Stormtroopers might make their rounds up this way and discover them. He also didn’t know how to deal with the problem. The bartender didn’t look the sort to who would readily respond to reason, and his only companion and guide was currently in deep discussion with a very worn-down, glum-looking Wookie.
Meanwhile, the conversation had attracted the attention of several gruesome-looking types who happened to be clustered in hearing range. All were regarding Luke and the two droids in a decidedly unfriendly manner. The interest in Luke and the droids had even captured the attention of the Mandalorian Bounty Hunter.
“Yes, of course,” Luke said realising that now wasn’t the best time to campaign for droid’s rights, “I’m sorry Threepio, you and Artoo’d better go wait outside with the speeder.”
“I heartily agree with you, sir,” Threepio said, his optics looking past Luke and towards the unfriendly glares from the surrounding patrons. He placed a hand on Artoo’s dome, and hastily began to make his way outside, Artoo waddling out the door in his wake.
As far as the bartender was concerned, that finished things, but now Luke found himself the subject of some unwanted attention. Head held high, he tried to maintain an air of confidence; the way his Uncle Owen would when he attempted to talk Junkers out of raiding the moisture farm. Fear at times was a good ally. It kept you safe but focus too much on the fear and anger was sure to take its place. A healthy dose of fear would keep him safe in the cantina, keep him out of the way of unsightly patrons who may be itching for a fight. Still, his head remained high even when he felt wandering eyes brush over him accompanied by whispered comments and malicious smirks. ‘Old Ben will be of little help,’ Luke thought miserably, ‘he’s still too preoccupied with the Wookie’
Like the stories that embraced Fett, so too had Luke heard tales of the Wookies from Kashyyk. But Luke never thought he’d see one in person, let alone get the chance to talk to one. Wookies were rare in the outer rim unless they were enslaved. But this Wookie walked like a free man. Its eyes were perhaps the kindest part of the Wookie, softening its otherwise fearsome appearance. His massive torso was covered entirely in thick, silken, coppery-brown fur. The Wookie’s reputation proceeded him, as many of the benefactors of the cantina did well to avoid his personal space. None dared to get too close, and instead, they swirled at an arm’s reach to still converse with the barkeep. All that was, except for old Ben, who was talking to the Wookie in its own language; purrs, soft roars, and groans flitting between the two. During their conversation, Ben had gestured wildly at Luke. The Wookie had cast his dark eyes over the farm boy and let out a horrifyingly, loud laugh.
Not content with being the butt of a joke, nor did he understand why Ben was still talking to the beast—Luke was certain there were plenty of other pilots available in the cantina, and as much as the Wookie intrigued him, they were on a time limit—Luke turned away from the conversation and pretended to ignore them. Though he may have been acting unfairly towards the varmint, he doubted that spine-shaking boom of a laugh was meant in good jest. Still Ben waved him down and indicated towards the great Wookie.
“This is Chewbacca,” he explained when Luke had finally joined them, “he’s a co-pilot of what he calls the fastest ship in the outer rim.”
“We have passage to Alderaan then?”
Old Ben shook his head, “Chewbacca here said if his captain, Han Solo were still here, they’d be able to get us off-world. But their ship is under new ownership. It appears Solo got himself in some trouble with Jabba the Hutt, and his vehicle has been impounded as part payment.”
“So, we’re stuck here?” Luke whined. He resisted hitting his fist on the bar. The girl in the holovid, the princess, seemed urgent in her message to Obi-Wan Kenobi, and now she could be in serious trouble and they were here wasting time trying to find a pilot.
“If he can’t help us, we either find someone who can, or I’ll pilot a ship myself.” Luke told Old Ben with a sigh, “we can get our own ship, let’s go.”
Old Ben placed a calming hand on Luke’s shoulder, and almost instantly Luke could feel the anger being swept away.
“Our Wookie friend mentioned that even though he is unable to take us, there is one other in the bar that could be persuaded to take us to Alderaan.”
The Wookie roared and waved his big paws towards the back of the cantina.
“Down there, Chewbacca says we will find a captain.”
“What are we waiting for then? Let’s go!”
***
Out in front of the cantina, Threepio paced back and forth by Luke’s speeder. His companion, Artoo seemed nonplussed and was in a heated debate with a red R2 unit owned by another of the bar’s patrons.
Threepio stopped his pacing, “what could be taking them so long? They went to hire a pilot not an entire fleet of ships!”
Artoo turned away from the red R2 unit, seemingly ready to say something to his counterpart. Threepio abruptly paused and waved his arms beckoning for Artoo and the other droid to remain silent.
Two imperial troopers had wandered down this way, armed with blasters. They were met by an unkempt Rodian who had emerged from the bleak darkness of the cantina.
“I do wish they’d hurry up,” Threepio muttered as he watched the troopers enter Mos Eisley’s cantina, “I don’t like the look of this one bit.”
***
Luke had, well he wouldn’t have said stolen, but perhaps hijacked somebody’s drink from the waiter’s tray as they neared the back of the cantina. Smoke wafted off the bubbling green drink, and Luke tentatively sipped from it. It wasn’t the best thing he had ever tasted, but it also wasn’t the worst.
“You’ve got to be joking.”
Luke stopped in his tracks, cautiously looking at Old Ben, “what is it? What’s wrong?”
“We will have to find another pilot.”
“Another pilot?” Luke was close to whining again, “there isn’t any other pilot. You said so yourself, Chewbacca recommended this pilot.”
“Even with the backing of a Wookie smuggler, there has to be someone other than—”
There was a clatter of glasses being pushed to the cantina floor, and a voice cried out, “Kenobi!”
Old Ben made to grab Luke’s arm, “finish your drink, we’ll get our own ship.”
“Kenobi, is it really you?”
Old Ben waved a hand towards the yelling figure, and grabbed him tightly, pulling him in close. Luke watched as Ben wrapped a hand over the creature's mouth. Like the Wookie, the pilot before them was unfamiliar, though Luke knew many of the same species worked under Jabba the Hutt. He was an interesting sort, with an accent far stranger than Luke had heard in the spaceports before, and he was old, far older than Old Ben, anyway.
Old Ben’s hand goes flying off the creature’s mouth, “do not lick me.”
“Obi-Wan, you look so old. What happened?”
“I don’t know who you mistook me for, but my name is Ben, not Kenobi.”
“Ah yes, yes, Ben, my old friend, come sit.” He looks past Luke to where Chewbacca hovers in the darkness, “I’m sorry to hear about your friend, Chewie. Perhaps there is some deal you can make with the Hutt to save him?”
The Wookie growled something out.
“Yes, well, I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of the Hutts either.”
He sits in his booth again, motioning for Ben and Luke to sit with him, “so, what is your story?”
“We need passage to Alderaan, Chewbacca said you would help us.”
“Oh yes, yes, though it will cost you.”
Luke rolls his eyes, “you’ll get your money,” he looks to Old Ben, “who is this guy, how do you know him?”
“We’re acquaintances from the old days.”
“Acquaintances!” Roared the creature, “I would have considered us friends, no? We helped each other out many times over the duration of the Clone Wars.”
“You fought in the Clone Wars?”
“I did a little bit of fighting here and there, a little bit of arson, kidnapping. You name it and I, Hondo Ohnaka, and my band of pirates most likely did it!”
“You’re a pirate!” Luke exclaimed, nearly knocking over his drink in the commotion, he turned to Ben, “We have to travel with Hondo, he probably has loads of stories.”
“I can tell you some about the rebellion too.”
Luke’s face brightened even more if it were possible, “you know of the rebellion?”
Hondo shrugged, trying to appear humble but failing miserably, “I have in my career helped the rebellion with some of their toughest missions! In fact, there is one crew I help most of all, the Ghost crew.”
“What are they like?”
Hondo launched into an elaborate story, that had Luke hanging on his every word, and Ben shook his head at the extravagancies that Hondo had embellished upon the story. Finally having enough, old Ben cut into the story.
“What are you doing here, Hondo? Where’s your crew?”
“My crew?” Hondo raised his glass to his lips and knocked back half the drink, “they are gone. Long gone. Disbanded when the Empire rose.”
He looks hard at old Ben, “but what of you, Kenobi? I heard no word from you and learned that the Jedi fell as traitors to the Empire. I thought you had died. But here you are, alive.”
“Obi-Wan is dead.”
Hondo made a noise, “nonsense, he is not dead. You are proof of that.” He finished his drink, slamming the glass on the table, “but the boy, who is he?”
“He is Anakin Skywalker’s son.”
“Skywalker’s son?” Hondo’s eyes widen and he looked closely at Luke, “well, that is unexpected.”
“You knew my father?”
Hondo leaned across the table and smacked Luke on the shoulder, “of course I knew your father, I met him many times. Kidnapped him once too.
Luke took another sip of his bubbling drink; the pirate knew his father. Ben knew his father. Could this be his chance to learn who his father really was, beyond Uncle Owen’s mumblings? He placed his glass on the table, anxiously looking towards the cantina door, “we should start thinking about leaving if we’re all agreed that Captain Hondo will be taking us. Artoo and Threepio are still outside, for all we know the troopers are on their way, our droids have been captured and no one will be able to save the princess. We can catch up on the ship?”
“Princess, you say?” Hondo stroked his chin in thought, “after some consideration, I, the great Hondo have decided to help you on your mission to save this princess.”
“You were always going to help us, Hondo.” Old Ben said, “but you must promise you won’t sell us out to the Empire if a better deal reveals itself.”
“Me? Sell you out? My friend, you must have me confused with someone else. The Empire took everything away from me, I have no intention of helping them any time soon. It will cost you though, this trip. Twenty thousand credits.”
“We can give you two thousand upfront.” Old Ben turned to Luke, “you will have to sell your speeder.”
Hondo nodded towards the cantina bar, “I think its best if we leave,” all eyes turned to where the bartender was conversing with two stormtroopers, waving in their general direction, “if we all wish to get off this planet alive, we’d better get out of here. Else even I cannot help you.”
There was a rising muttering among the crowd, as the two Stormtroopers began to stalk their way through the cantina, eyes roaming every booth and seat.
“Docking bay ninety-four,” Hondo told them, “quickly now.” In a flash, he was gone.
By the time the Stormtroopers had made it to Hondo’s booth. It was empty.