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"Let me go you kriffing-"
Ra'at, the grey-skinned Devaronian looked up from where he was crouched in a corner of the windowless ferrocrete room, as a young human girl was thrust into the pack of other younglings who were clustered in the gloom.
She was short, probably no more than four feet tall and was dressed in simple pants and coarse fabric shirt. Her bare feet were covered in dirt, much like the rest of her, much like the rest of them. She stumbled and shot a glare at her captor's back as he left. Ra'at watched her take stock and was surprised when she looked at him, smiled and walked over.
"Hi." The girl, possibly no older than ten and perhaps as young as seven, looked down at the boy and smiled. Ra'at, unsure if this was some sort of ploy or scam, said nothing. She cocked her head and stuck her tongue out at him, "Rude much?" She crossed her arms over her skinny chest and scowled playfully, "Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"
The Devaronian considered for a moment, "Mother certainly didn't cover what to do when one is sold into a Hutt's slave crew."
The brunette moved to sit beside him, "I guess this is your first time to Nal Hutta then?" The weak light from a handful of glow rods shone on her plasspecs; an incredibly odd thing to be wearing, after all, the procedure to correct eyesight was so cheap, Ra'at had hardly ever seen anyone wearing the antique tech anymore.
"Yeah." Ra'at sighed. This was not how he'd envisioned his life as a spacer ending up. He'd thought that sneaking aboard a ship was the most sensible way of getting offworld. Turns out that the universe was not kind to naive 14-year olds that had no clue and fewer credits.
The girl smirked, "I suppose that isn't part of most standard curriculums." As she spoke, Ra'at noticed her eyes didn't stop moving; never settling on anything or anyone for more than a second or two. "So. What you in for?"
She pulled out a battered packet from her pants and offered it to the Devaronian, who looked at it warily. "Calm down rookie; it's just food."
Ra'at carefully broke off a piece of the unidentified bar and chewed. It was surprisingly good, at least compared to the swill served by the guards of this ferrocrete hellhole. "'M Sera."
"Ra'at of family Targon."
The skinny girl with the tangled hair grinned at the formal introduction. "Well then, Ra'at of family Targon, welcome to Nar Shadaar." She stuck out her hand and he shook it carefully. "So, you been tossed into the pits yet?" Sera leaned back against the wall and used Ra'at as a shield when she pulled out a tiny commlink and began tapping out a message.
"What?"
"The slavers." She didn't look down at the commlink, trying not to draw undue attention. "They're part of Vorga's crew. Pit fighters are their specialty." From the look of burgeoning horror on her new friend's face; Sera presumed he'd not yet put together all of the pieces. "Don't worry rookie, I'll make sure we're on the same team in tomorrow's event. Just make sure you follow my orders to the letter and we'll both get out of this alive." The little human smirked and closed her eyes, "Get some rest rook."
Ra'at snorted awake with a panicked jolt, someone was whispering in his ear.
A small and dusty hand was clamped over his mouth. "Ssh. The guards are going to test us today. Well they think they're going to. We're going to be getting out of here."
Ra'at looked at the girl, 'Sera', with wide brown eyes. "Mffh hgmf mmm!"
"Remember, just follow me no matter what." The girl glared at him sternly until he nodded. "Right. Now can you lift me up there?"
Ra'at followed the girl's gaze up to a black box mounted on the wall. He shrugged and stood, crouching for the girl to climb on his back. She clambered onto his shoulders and stretched up to pull open the box's case. It opened with a loud click and they both froze. Thankfully none of the others still fitfully sleeping on the ferrocrete floor seemed to stir.
Sera breathed a shaky breath and plugged her commlink into one of the ports inside the circuit box. Vivid green lines of letters and numbers began to scroll across the built in screen inside the box's protective cover.
Sera grinned, this was what she was here for. Vorga's records and finances were often routed through properties he owned to limit the amount of information put onto the holonet where any second-rate slicer could get to them. Of course, it meant that getting to the actual data required plugging into a physical terminal. And the only way to do that was to get someone on the inside. Sera allowed herself a whispered chuckle as the red light on her commlink flashed twice, indicating that the program she'd written herself had downloaded and was ready to go.
She pressed a few more buttons and carefully closed the case. Sera swore as the addition of the commlink prevented the case from locking into place. At least it didn't swing back open straight away and would probably go unnoticed for quite a while.
Ra'at grunted and felt his knees buckle, unused to such an awkward position. He slipped in the dust and landed on his back with a quickly-stifled yelp. Sera swore again as she tumbled after him, landing on his stomach with a grunt. They both lay there winded until Sera rolled off him, "It's a good job you're cute rookie."
"Oh please." He gasped, "You only like me because I'm taller than the others."
"Well. Perhaps."
They exchanged a look and then began to smile. Sera snorted and let out an honest to god giggle.
One of the others nearby woke and yelled, "Shuddap!"
---
A few hours later Ra'at was wondering how his strange new friend could be quite so calm about a possible impending death for the entertainment of the criminal underworld.
They had been hustled out of the ferrocrete warehouse and were now crammed in small crates around the edge of one of the infamous pits. He hated to admit that he was scared, especially when a little girl like Sera was clearly unphased; but he was terrified. 'I wish Uncle Gat was here.'
Sera assessed the other children in the box; most were as green as the rookie. She growled in irritation; she'd been dumped in the long shot group again.
Force-damn adults, always thinking she'd be no good in a fight. Oh well. At least she only had to get herself and the rook to safety. The others would actually be helpful distractions as the other, more experienced fighters took them down.
Ra'at jumped as she wrapped her tiny hand around his arm and tugged him down to her level so she could whisper in his ear, "Roll when we hit the sand; don't be tempted by the weapon racks, they're a trap."
Ra'at nodded. Sera grinned and continued her instruction, "Stick with me no matter what and if I tell you to do something, you do it immediately. Got it?" Ra'at saluted, making her laugh.
"You're an idiot Targon, but I like it." Their chatter was abruptly broken off as the metal crate began to roll forward, tipping them down onto the blood-soaked sand.
Ra'at obediently tucked and rolled, momentarily disoriented as the pit walls and floor refused to stop spinning.
He swore as a booted foot dug into his ribs, forcing him back down to the floor. A young Gamorrean stood over him, hands raised, ready to smash down on the helpless teenager.
Ra'at tried to move, but was too winded to dislodge his attacker's foot. He yelled but didn't die. He cracked open one eye to see the Gamorrean slowly topple backward to reveal a small girl with a determined look on her face and blood on her hands.
"Come on rookie. We gotta get to the other side of this mess for our pickup."
"What!?"
The duo dodged between the knots of children fighting to survive their time in the pit.
"We are needed elsewhere rook. Much as I'd love to guide you through the intricacies of pit fighting, that'll have to wait." Sera stopped and glanced up at the warehouse ceiling above them. "Right, we wait until our ride gets here."
Sera tossed a small knife to her companion. "We should largely be ignored - they always go for the big ones first." She pulled out another one of her ration bars and tore open the silver wrapper. "More glory or some other rubbish."
As the numbers of conscious participants dropped, Ra'at clutched the little weapon tighter, really not liking the way some of the remaining slaves were looking at them.
"Get ready to jump when I say."
"What?"
The ceiling above them began to vibrate and the roaring of the bloodthirsty crowd began to take on a worried tone. Pipes and sheets of metal pinged and began to drop onto the spectators, causing panic and confusion.
Sera was so focussed on the roof, that she didn't see the goatl running at her, vibroblade raised and ready to strike.
Ra'at dashed forward and tackled the human, dropping them both to the sand and out of the path of the weapon.
Sera struggled free and pulled Ra'at with her, "Come on!"
Their attacker raised his weapon again; ready to tear them both to pieces when Sera screamed "Jump!" She ran toward the goatl and launched herself into the air, Ra'at cursed himself for an idiot and sprinted after her.
Surprisingly, they weren't impaled on the sword.
A battered two-person transport crashed down through the roof, neatly blocking the goatl's second strike. Sera landed on the skids closest to her and held out a hand for Ra'at. He scrabbled up with less grace than a Kowakian monkey lizard and Sera shoved him into the cockpit where he landed with a graceless "oomph!"
The pilot, a scarred twi'lek, looked quizzically at the little girl. His lekku twitched with agitation.
"Just go already!" Sera snapped, kicking out at the slaves trying to cling onto the vehicle.
As the ship shot up toward the ceiling, Sera leaned back into the seat she and Ra'at were squashed into. "Skip, this is Ra'at of House Targon. Ra'at, this is Skip."
She grinned as the comm unit on the instrument panel lit up and familiar lines of green numbers began to scroll across it. Her plan had worked perfectly. She grudgingly admitted it was partly due to the skinny wretch beside her.
Perhaps it was time to explore the whole 'teamwork' thing again.
Skip snorted at her smug expression. She'd be impossible to live with for the next few weeks. He had to admit that the new boy was a surprise though. Oh well, it'd be the kid's job to explain it to the boss.
"Welcome to the madhouse kid."