Two Q's on a Tatooine Side Street

Quinlan Vos sat in the cafe, under the awning outside the adobe tavern on a busy side street on the dried-out planet of Tatooine, waiting for his contact. Jedi on an Outer Rim Hutt world had to stay under cover, and not just from the relentless twin suns. It was crowded in the shade at this part of the day cycle; he had to share a table with complete strangers, and was lucky to have a chair. He scratched at his reddish chin, blanketed with jet-black stubble. Time to shave again already, blast it. Kiffar were cursed with sensitive skin.

He relaxed into the gloom, almost a shadow himself under the mane of matted locks, night without a trace of stars except for the occasional gleam of the whites of his eyes behind the yellow clan marking. Of all the bars on all the worlds in all the galactic outskirts of this screwed-up Republic, why would the Trade Federation bother with this one? Smuggling was not subject to regulation; that was its very nature. Most Hutts didn't try, and reaped the benefit. But they shouldn't expect anything solid in return except credits. Not loyalty, not tax, not alliance.

Soon he'd see exactly how naive this brown-nosing Commerce Guild underling on the make really was-- if he ever got here.

He idly noted a somewhat ill-assorted group strolling by-- good-looking teenage honey in a blue tunic, astromech droid rolling and tootling, and a tall blond drink of water with long silky hair and a goatee--- Qui-Gon? What was he doing here?

Where was his goody-goody padawan? And Quin spotted the gleam of a light-sabre under the ratty poncho. He wasn't undercover,then. Don't draw attention.

No worries on that; everyone's attention was on a dried bubo flying through the air and landing in a Dug's soup. Not just any Dug, either-- it was Sebulba, the pod-racing bully! This might get ugly. Quin warily sat back to watch.

But Qui-Gon and his group had stopped, too. It looked as if that weird six-foot ampibian, the one responsible for the flying bubo, was with them. Sebulba had already leaped up and floored the poor guy, and was bitch-slapping him with the bubo and two legs, then starting to choke him. He certainly didn't get much back-talk that way.

He wouldn't have anyway; evidently the moist guy didn't know a syllable of Huttese. Apology would get you nowhere with Sebulba in any case; Quin had seen him in action.

Next thing anyone in the cafe crowd knew, out of nowhere a local kid was in Sebulba's face, bearding him in Huttese, acting way older than he looked, which was about seven standard years. Telling him that he'd beat Sebulba in the next race-- huh? Humans didn't pod-race! Who was this kid?

But anyway, he got the bully off the giant salamander with ears. And now he and Qui-Gon were acting very chummy. The teenage honey couldn't take her eyes off him. There's definitely something about that kid... Never mind, Qui-Gon was on it.

Quin settled back to wait some more.

His contact still hadn't showed when the motley group with Qui-Gon passed by in the other direction, this time led by the little local boy. Quin decided to take the time to shadow them. First, he sent out a tentative message through the Force.



The Jedi master immediately turned and spotted him.

Quin made as if to rise, eliciting a quick hand-signal from Qui-Gon to stay where he was. He turned and continued walking with the group, who had not noticed their exchange.



So instead of tailing them, he moved inside to the bar. It was getting too windy for comfort out there, anyway. Looked like a sandstorm coming.