Asking around for the only other Dwyyk in Baider-Bas wasn’t much of a challenge. He had mentioned working as a metal cutter, and it came to light that he did so in a little company set up in one of the bridges between the towers. They were a freelance outfit that custom-shaped large parts, for buildings, home appliances and starships alike, and so anyone could stroll into the partially-covered space they occupied.

But sneaking in was more fun; gliding smoothly between vehicles, pillars, machinery and even people when they weren’t looking. Ayna spotted her target about halfway in, and after that it was just a short wait before she could cross the floor space unseen, and have him to herself in a little cubby where she found the man charging up a torch.

“Oh, hello,” she said in Dwyyk, and he turned to face her. “What a funny coincidence.”

“Ah,” he exclaimed softly. “That was rather well done.”

He smiled, and Ayna mostly uncovered her face so he could see her smiling back.

“I practise a lot,” she replied. “I mean, it’s not even really practise anymore. I just do it automatically, when I’m out and about.”

“People should lean into their gifts,” Kossuk told her. “I know a Kapadian who makes a living by composing music for public places. I keep telling him that he should be putting that paving slab of a body to work, but he refuses to listen.”

“I know a woman with a horrible, terrifying face,” Ayna replied. “She hides it almost every time she is out in public, with hoods and scarves and the like. I keep telling her she ought to startle people and make children cry with that visage, but… no.”

“I think you are making that up,” he said.

“Maybe,” she told him, enjoying this conversation. “Or maybe I’m just bending the facts slightly.”

The fact was that Kiris, and Herdis too, were listening in on the conversation from by the entrance to the workshop, and watching too, from a tiny camera in her lapel.

She and Kossuk talked on.

Since leaving the homeworld, she’d had her share of fun with men who found her Dwyyk appearance exotic and attractive, even though she’d only ever considered herself average-looking back home. Being made to feel special and fascinating certainly had its appeal. But she had also come to miss the touch of a body that was much like her own, and to get to use her native language on more than rare occasions. She missed that rapport that was only to be found with Dwyyk that had been raised on the homeworld itself.

And the guy was cute, and charming. And so, even though she was here on a job, she indulged herself a little, telling herself it was for the sake of loosening his tongue before getting to the topic. They shared stories of home, both their own and those of other people. They shared thoughts of the wider galaxy, and their place in it as a subtype that generally wasn’t highly thought of.

It was nice. It all felt very nice, and refreshing to a degree that surprised her. But though neither of the two women listening in through the earpiece pressed her, she knew she had to get to the point.

“But, uh, look, you were very helpful with advice yesterday. Do you mind being so again?”

“Go ahead,” he said, relaxed up against the machinery behind him.

“Do you know anything about… unsavoury types, who all wear green jackets? I met a few of them yesterday. I mean, my group did, and they weren’t exactly friendly. I’d just like to know how much of a problem those boys are.”

“Hmm.”

He rubbed his chin.

“Yes, I know of those. They are a bit of a local pest, down on street level. They’re not the only crime, but they are the most visible, and it feels like whenever something goes down in the daylight, it is laid at their feet. From what I hear, without actively looking into their shit, is that they are mostly offworlders. And I don’t mean second or third generation, either. That may explain why they break the usual rules.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Do they have a name?” Ayna said.

Kossuk smirked.

“They try to go by a local word, but it just translates into ‘green jackets’.”

Ayna snorted a little.

“That is… very uninspired.”

“It is,” he told her. “Look: They aren’t some major outfit; neither planetside, nor on the lanes. I think there might be… I don’t know… thirty of them, or something. But that’s just a guess. They probably have some connections to neighbouring scumbags, but that’s it.”

“But physically they’re just here in the city core?”

“Here, or… close, at least. I’ve heard something about them having some well-defended stronghold outside of the core itself. But that’s more or less all I know. As I said; I don’t actively look into this. People just like to talk.”

“They do, they do,” she agreed.

“As I said, they mostly stick to ground level. So if you want to avoid trouble, just stay in the towers, and on the higher walkways. And I stand by what I said yesterday: Daytime is mostly peaceful around here, but the nights can get vicious.”

He raised an eyebrow as he looked to the side, and huffed a little.

“There’s been a little reminder of that. Did you hear about the massacre?”

“What?” Ayna replied. “No. What?”

“Out in the suburb ring,” he told her. “Not a business or a home, more of a… gathering place, I think. Of petty lowlifes. At least that’s how the story has been going. What matters is that a whole pile of people are dead. I heard ten, although there isn’t much in the way of official statements. The corps don’t like to talk about troubling stuff.”

“Was it a… big shootout?” she asked. “Some gang thing?”

He put on a little smile, but didn’t make it look the slightest bit convincing.

“No. That’s the thing. That’s what makes this story so juicy. People are saying it was done in melee.”

Ayna had seen things done in melee that she hadn’t thought possible. But those were certainly outliers in this galaxy.

“Creepy,” she said.

“Yeah.”

He looked at his torch. It was at 98 percent charge.

“Look, I’m happy to chat, whenever and whenever. But I do need to keep working, regardless.”

“Yeah, I have some stuff to do, too,” she replied. “Look… thanks again. You’re great.”

“Eh, we’re all one big tribe when we’re offworld, aren’t we?” he said, then showed that smirk again. “But yes, I am great.”

The torch dinged in a full charge.

“He is about to make his move,” Kiris said into the earpiece, although she didn’t speak Dwyyk.

“Look… do you want to talk some more?” Kossuk asked. “When we’re both less busy?”

He held her gaze, in that particular way. And she looked back.

“I’d like that,” she told him, in full sincerity. “My ship… look, our schedule is a little unpredictable, but I’ll try.”

“What happens happens.”

“Indeed. I’ll see you. Maybe.”

They both turned to leave, but she suddenly caught herself.

“Oh. Just one quick thing. I saw this weird guy on the streets. Local. Baseline. He wore this… unadorned robe. Maroon-coloured. And I saw people avoid him, kind of like how they do the green jackets.”

“Robe… yeah,” Kossuk replied, and suddenly looked a bit ill at ease. “Look, I know even less about all that than I do about the gangs. But I think it is some… really old stuff. Going way back in the local culture. Not a priesthood, I think, or maybe it is. Not quite leadership either. Something about wisdom from the stars, and from below, from the ancient days.”

“What?” Ayna said.

“That really is all I know. Other than that… yeah, the natives are scared of those types. Just do as the locals do, and avoid them. Take care.”

“You too,” she said, and they parted.

She walked out to join Herdis and Kiris, who were making a show out of relaxing against the bridge’s guardrail, even as they discreetly kept an eye on the nearby foot traffic.

“Well, translate,” Herdis said at the sight of her.

“Kiris, translate,” Ayna said.

“He was completely sincere about everything, from what I could tell,” the Chanei told her. “Although I do my best work in person. And I don’t need to spell out that he is horny for you, do I?”

“No,” Ayna said. “But… eh, let’s talk to the boys.”