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When you chartered passage to the Outer Rim, you expected a certain type of clientele. Steve had braced himself to turn a blind eye to smugglers and deserters, stolen goods… He’d forgotten about slavery.
It was incredibly naive, in hindsight, but most of that sort of traffic went the other direction, slavers transporting Twi’lek girls from Ryloth to buyers in the inner systems. If he had expected it, he’d have thought of something more sophisticated. A troupe of dancers, perhaps, with gilded collars that were more adornment than shackle, perhaps. Not a pair of girls young enough to still look afraid of the bored Aqualish yanking their chains.
He could feel Bucky go completely rigid behind him, but that was nothing to the emotional turmoil that was roiling off of him. “Remember your training,” Steve murmured, feeling as if he addressed himself as much as Bucky. He was less than calm himself. “We can’t get involved, not right now. Maybe once the voyage is underway…”
His justifications died on his lips as their handler began to shove the the girls into a box for easier transportation while the other passengers looked through them on their way into the ship, their eyes blank and cruel. He could feel the surge in Bucky as dark memories began to surface, drowning out his still-fragile connection to the now. Steve’s hand began to drift towards his lightsaber, at war with himself. They could not afford the exposure, and yet it was obvious that neither he nor Bucky could just walk away from this.
Salvation came in the form of of a carelessly dressed Naboo noblewoman trailed by a young handmaid who struck Steve as the most attentive of the group. She had lively eyes and an amused cast to her mouth as she hurried her mistress along, tucking stray pieces of hair back into the other woman’s coiffure with a casualness that gave off the impression of true affection and easy service.
Pulling his hood more firmly over his face, Steve pushed into the crowd until he was close enough to catch a piece of the girl’s sleeve where the light fabric trailed towards the ground. One quick pull turned her to face him for a moment, and Steve flicked a hand in the air, directing her gaze towards the Twi’lek girls as he whispered a suggestion with the weight of the Force behind it. “You want to offer your assistance to those captives.”
The girl blinked, and for one terrifying moment her eyes focused on his face. Then she turned, frowning, to look where he had directed, and Steve dissolved into the flow of passengers.
He was back at Bucky’s side by the time the Naboo woman started screaming, her voice piercing enough to carry even over the low murmur of the crowd. Every other word seemed to be an adjective like ‘appalling’ or ‘barbaric’, emphatic enough to draw eyes even in such a disreputable crowd.
Steve felt Bucky’s feelings settle and then turn to something close to amusement as the handmaid began removing the cage-like headdresses wrapped around the girls’ lekku while the Aqualish continued to protest from the floor. His attempts to stop the interference by force seemed to have resulted in him being electrocuted by a small stun baton, which the girl continued to brandish at him.
“Bought-- fair,” The alien groaned, his flat black eyes half open in pain. One of his facial tusks seemed to have been chipped in the fall, and he was bleeding freely. “Have papers!”
“Why cover their lekku, then?” The girl demanded, throwing the decorative headdresses that had covered the skin of the long tentacles that grew from the Twi’leks’ heads. “If they were willing, you wouldn’t have to worry about them communicating with each other.”
“Stupid move-talking,” The Aqualish muttered to himself, and Steve recalled that the Twi’lek language incorporating some level of movement. The headdresses hadn’t registered beyond the vague impression of their being fashionable, but now he saw them for what they were.
“Muzzles.” Bucky voiced the word, and Steve nodded shortly, trying to keep his breathing even. From what he could see, it appeared the handmaid and her mistress had things well in hand. They should be gone before they were noticed-- before that sharp-eyed girl recalled who had set her on her mission of mercy, and found them frozen at the edge of the crowd.
“We should be going. We can’t be recognized.” Steve murmured, turning his back on the scene they’d created to cut a decisive path towards the entrance to the glorified garbage scow they’d booked passage on. Bucky fell in behind him, the darkness the thought of muzzles dissipating back into the lighter, nearly amused feeling he’d had before.
“They’re really going Base Delta Zero back there.” Bucky observed with some admiration, keeping his voice low. “What’d you say to that girl to get their fangs out like that?”
“Just brought it to their attention,” Steve returned, smiling a little. Bucky’s rare good mood seemed to be catching. “They’re a real couple of roasters, eh?”
Bucky made a noise of agreement, and then ventured cautiously. “I know it was the best thing, for the situation, but… I hate it when you do that. Get in people’s heads.”
Steve winced internally, keeping his face placid. “I know, Buck. I don’t like it either.”
“They would have done it anyway.” Bucky said in a soothing tone, convincing himself. “They seem like they would have.”
Steve thought uneasily of the way the girl had focused on his face before she’d turned away. “Yes,” He echoed. “I think she would have.”
Darcy isn’t really sure why, but she starts hacking the escape pods before she even starts unpacking. It isn’t because of that Jedi, although Jedi usually meant it was time to grab your boots and get ready to haul ass for the exits-- it’s something else. Something more in her gut than her brain, and that’s always been where Darcy lives. There was no justifiable, logical reason to do it, just like there was no reason for her to have stuck with Jane all these years. The heart wants what it wants, and Darcy’s wanted to be able to access the escape pods in the event of a ship-wide disaster.
After that, her gut seemed to think food was the next best thing. She opened the door to her cabin, already planning her unpacking in her head, and ran straight into the man the blonde Jedi had been escorting.
His reaction was… interesting. Upon impact, his whole body had gone tense and hard, but just as quickly he’d seemed to registered her as non-threatening and grabbed her shoulder in a steadying grip. It was possible, Darcy considered as she smiled up at him, that years of being Jane’s all-purpose computer and repair expert had given her a slightly skewed idea of acceptable risk. She was used to improvised equipment that might explode and munitions of questionable functionality-- in her opinion, anything not actively trying to kill her was benign.
“Oh, pfassk, I’m sorry!” Darcy exclaimed, putting a hand on his arm for ‘balance’, taking the opportunity to assess the prosthetic that seemed to comprise most of his left arm. “Did I step on your feet?”
In the moment it took him to look at the hand groping his biceps with a raised eyebrows, she shifted her weight back in case he was really upset by the touch, and his eyebrows jumped a little higher. “Nah,” He said, giving her the kind of up-down look men usually employed before a come on, “You’re good. Besides, my toes can take it.”
Darcy glanced down at the reinforced material of his boots and pursed her lips thoughtfully. “You do seem unusually prepared.” She agreed. “How often do you get walked on?”
He paused like he was actually thinking about it, and Darcy used the time to scrutinize his appearance. He had strange lapses in his personal hygiene-- hair lank, partially grown in facial hair-- that clashed with his clothes, which were clean and well-fitting. His friend was dressing him, and he cared, but the man himself did not. Having watched the sleeves of every one of Jane’s carefully chosen gowns get dragged through some sort of food, dirt, or on one particularly memorable occasion, blood, Darcy felt a sudden kinship with the Jedi responsible for dressing this man. He seemed like the sort to be hard on clothes. “Not that often,” He finally decided. “More when I used to give my friend dance lessons. Guess it’s been a while.”
“Well, at least now you’re always prepared.” Darcy consoled, giving him a fortifying slap on the shoulder and hurting her hand in the process. “Ready to cut a rug at a moment’s notice.”
“You never know when the opportunity might present itself.” He agreed seriously, and she liked the spark of humor in his eyes. Under whatever the weight was that made him go tense when he was touched, and duck his head to avoid eye contact, Darcy could feel someone she thought she would like. “Better to stay vigilant.”
“It’s like talking to myself, flyboy.” Darcy smiled at him again, then started to walk away, feeling that she’d tempted fate enough for one morning. He struck her as more frightened and defensive than hostile, but she didn’t want to overwhelm him. It was usually better to let people dip their toes in the Darcy experience before letting them jump in over their head, so they knew what to expect.
“The name’s Bucky,” He called after her, and Darcy stopped walking to look back at him, surprised. If his startled and confused expression were anything to go by, he hadn’t meant to say it. “And I’m not a pilot.”
“Eh, I took a shot.” Darcy shrugged casually, trying to maintain the easy tone of the conversation. “You seemed like a spacer, but maybe more of a nav guy, I’m guessing.”
“Gunner, demolitions.” Bucky said, and a muscle by his eye twitched. He was starting to look a little panicked. and Darcy began to understand why his companion hadn’t felt he could intervene with the Twi’lek girls back when they’d boarded. Bucky gave off a sort of… wavering feeling. Not the sort of instability that came from a bad temper-- the damaged kind.
“Well, Bucky, gunner/demolitions, I’m Darcy. Repair/computers, and general gofer.” She gestured with her head down the hall, “And speaking of which, I’m supposed to be going for some breakfast now, so… I guess I’ll see you around the ship.”
“Yeah. I should get back to my room.” Bucky said, doing his best to match her light tone while breathing too fast. Darcy smiled again, and turned her back on him, hoping that the show of trust would be calming. “Bye Bucky.”
“Darcy.” He said it slowly, like he was trying to press her name into his mind. It gave her a strange feeling of sorrow, though it didn’t seem to be her sorrow.
The next time Steve sees the girl, he’s running down a hallway while alarms blare and the security lighting flashes on and off, giving the whole scenario a strange strobe effect that makes it feel unreal. She has one arm hooked through the noblewoman's and doesn’t seem to be looking where she’s going, all of her focus on the small handheld computer she was tapping at. If the ship hadn't jolted with the impact of the Imperial cruiser that was attempting to board them, they would have passed each other. The shock threw the her bodily against her companion (who bore her weight quite well) and the girl’s eyes flew up from her screen to lock on them.
“Your friend any good in a fight?” For a bemused moment Steve thought she was talking to him, until he followed her gaze to Bucky. His eyes had gone blank the moment the alarms began to shrill, retreating back into the terrible coldness that Steve had been fighting so hard to drag him out of, but when he saw the girl they focused.
“Darcy. Repair/computers,” He said nonsensically, and the girl nodded.
“Bucky, gunner/demolitions.” She replied, and grinned. “Can you get us into the ‘pod bay?”
“I can ,” Bucky emphasized, raising an eyebrow and looking so much like his old self that Steve felt disoriented. “But I don’t know what you want with those suicide sleds. They’ll shoot you down before you get out of range.”
Darcy shook her head, dancing the screen of her pad at him. “I promise you, they won’t. Can you get us in?”
Bucky turned to stare at him, and Steve closed his eyes, trying to feel which way the Force was pulling him.
Looking at the innocents before him, he didn’t like what he’d felt. “We have a mission. A very dangerous one. And they will follow us. You and your mistress--”
“Look, I hate to burst your specialness bubble, but you’re not the only one with a mission,” Darcy interrupted, giving the noblewoman a nod before returning to her tapping, “I’d rather have the escort, but we will do this with or without you.”. The Naboo woman began to pull her down the hall with more strength than Steve would have credited her with, her footing sure in spite of the rocking of the ship. It was obvious she knew where they were going, and intended to get them there.
“Steve,” Bucky implored, his eyes darting after the girl.
“We’ll put them in danger.” Steve groused, but they were already following. “But I suppose that ship’s left orbit, since you’ve already introduced yourself.”
“I don’t know why I did it.” Bucky admitted in a low voice, pulling his blaster from its holster and training it on every door they approached. “I felt… compelled.”
He’s still connected, Steve realized, feeling hope bloom hot in his chest. Bucky was feeling the pull of the Force again, even if he was having trouble recognizing it as such. Whatever else had been done to him, they hadn’t been able to cut him off completely.
As they overtook the two women, Steve could hear Darcy muttering a litany of curses under her breath as she worked. “Kriffing poodoo svaper Imperial software and their vac-head programmers… this is the most burnout binary I have ever… E chuta!”
“You’re always compelled when it comes to a girl with an extensive vocabulary.” Steve joked, and was rewarded with the closest thing to a real smile he’d wrung out of Bucky yet.
“Got a way with words, doesn’t she?” Bucky agreed, watching the noblewoman pry off the security panel to the next hallway and begin to rip out various wires until the door opened with a swish. “And they’re a regular couple of wrench-jockeys to boot. I think we might actually get out of this with our tails intact.”
“If this isn’t just a wild bantha chase, and they can really get us into the escape pod,” Steve cautioned, but he could feel how clear the path ahead of them would be, as long as they didn’t waver.
Bucky shrugged, his muscles loose even while he moved to take point, putting his body between the women and any dangers the hall might present. “I’m willing to risk it. You with me?”
Steve stepped up so they were shoulder-to-shoulder and drew his lightsaber. “Til the end of the line.” He promised.