Noshow

He steadied himself on the bannister, even a childhood spent on Coruscant hadn’t steeled him for great heights. Or rain, for that matter. This world was wetter than most, so much so that it’s makeup was explicitly engineered for inevitable month long downpours. Every building was sloped at the walls, every roof grooved and channeled and between every long row of industry and residence, a great storm drain roared above the sound of thunder and rain. Even the walk-ways, teeming with civilians, were designed to pour off the excess water to the engineered rivers below.
	Renno let out a grunt, pushing away from the view. There was only so much ingenuity he could take in and appreciate. This world brought out other things in him. Fashion’s eternal battle between function and form meant the city’s female population had taken to wearing anything waterproof and tight fitting. Asides from the high boots, local clothing norms had ended up leaving the average man’s imagination wholly unexercised. Fortunately for him, male styles left more room for movement and, especially, more places to hide things that drew attention.
	His hand strayed to his jacket, giving the cold metal cylinder that hid beneath a light tap. It was for reassurance. He’d already seen muscle, albeit incompetent, but muscle nonetheless. A few waves of the hand had seen him through security easily enough. The same couldn’t be said the others who had came in on his flight. Just twenty odd meters behind him an Ithorian, no doubt a refugee from the nearby system, had attracted the attention of three of the planet’s more rowdy guards. A loud, crunching thud turned his attention back towards the cantina entrance and with one last glance at the abused Ithorian he walked inside.
	The cantina itself was no different in its adherence to the city’s unspoken rules of function and form. Seats blended seamlessly with walls, floors rose elegantly into stages and lights snaked between the many grooves that decorated the ceiling. Everything was grey or some shade of dark and sullen blue, a rule that even applied to the serving slaves. All of whom were Rutian Twi’leks.
	He took a seat near the cantina corner, every now and then glancing up at the sound of the doors drying mechanisms, making evident he was waiting for someone else. After three false alarms, Renno’s attention turned to the table before him. His eyes activated a holo display which, in turn, sparked a subtle smirk. It wasted no time in making its purpose clear, the first image was of a long haired Mirialan, slender and dressed in a particularly decorative and revealing piece of local form-fitting clothing. His finger hovered over the deactivation button before his underlying appreciation for local dress spurred him to look at the next girl. Unlike the Mirialan, this Twi’lek was half naked and as buxom as they come. He rolled his eyes, still smiling, and deactivated the display. Maybe a dozen or so minutes and one half finished ale later, one of the alarms rang true. A slight figure, no taller than your average Bothan, wandered into the cantina b-lining straight toward him. He couldn’t make details out through the smoke and lights of the ongoing performance, but it seemed he wasn’t the only one that had made an effort at fitting in.
	‘Master Gann…’ greeted the new arrival as she took a seat beside him. Despite the title, there was a only miniscule age difference between the two, at least by conventional Jedi standards. She was maybe a little under half a dozen years his younger yet when asked if she wanted a master his senior, she’d refused, sticking by him through thick and thin.
Regardless he gave a nod and a smile, casually deactivating the display as it reacted to the flicker of his apprentice’s iris. Sparing her from seeing any more than a second or so of muscle bound alien rent-boys. Though he did spare some thought for its ability at gender recognition.

‘Oh, want me to turn it back on, Tria?’ Questioned Renno, as he spotted her now slightly reddened cheeks.
	He could see her mentally fumble for a comeback and let her get out one awkward, if oddly alarmed, stutter before raising a hand.
	‘Relax apprentice, it was a joke,’ he grinned at her expense, rubbing it in with a patronising squeeze of the cheek ‘Now you said you had some good news for me?’
	So easily flustered, she cleared her throat and handed him a datapad. ‘I followed the smuggler to this building,’ she shuffled up besides him to point, her leggings making little squeaks as she did so, ‘It was an unmarked starport, teeming with droids and workers.’
	He gave her an impressed nod, much to her noticeable elation, before gesturing for her to continue. Her finger swept across the datapad, lithe body pressing slightly against his, to navigate through her ad-hoc formatting. ‘I asked one of the workers I saw if I could use his datapad and I got this…’ She paused, opening up another map, this time of the port’s interior decked out with a full annotated list of who was using which hangar along with which ship needed loading. One name in particular was of importance, it was the smuggler they’d been tracking. He was set to be loading a series empty crates, as Renno had predicted, and setting off for a location that remained undisclosed.
	Renno perked a brow before Tria piped up again, ‘You’d think they’d be more cautious with a datapad packed out with this much stuff…’ she murmured, hands now resting with one at her side and another on her thigh, eyeing him for more input.
	‘Looking the part goes a long way on a world like this,’ reasoned Renno, ‘And you really did put some effort into the outfit.’
	The apprentice set free a broad smile, always glad to hear her hard work appreciated.
	It was no false compliment, Tria had been her usual diligent self and gone the extra mile with her disguise. From her over-the-knee boots, navy gloves, short sleeved jacket and leggings so tight one could spot the subtle striations of her thigh muscles, everything fitted the local aesthetic. His gazing eyes soon stumbled on his staring reflection in the fabric of her leggings. That proved sobering.
	‘As for this,’ began Renno, refocusing on the datapad in hand, ‘This gives me an idea.’