Chapter Text
The suns were blazing as they always did upon the sand, gracing them with the warmth they held beneath the surface. The dome-shaped homes and huts made of clay absorbed their rays without complaint and kept the coarse grains from flying through them. The only noise that could be heard in the distance was the commotion of the Mos Eisley cantina, filled to the brim with all sorts of species wishing for a fun time. If today was a lucky day, someone would get shot in the face after being outed as a cheater in Sabacc.
Oh, how normal it was to do such a thing on Tatooine without anyone batting an eye. Tatooine was often ignored by the New Republic, as the entirety of the Outer Rim was, due to its high-risk environment. They knew what crimes were occurring. Why bother policing the un-policeable? They would rather observe from the space above than set food on the barren soil of the lands.
Away from the ruckus of crime, Annalisa's house lied far from the center of Mos Eisley, a half hour walk from the Spaceport to be precise. It was hot and humid, windows that were basically craters without glass to welcome some sort of air flow into the home. The kitchen sat quiet in the dawn of morning. Everything was as clean as it could be, given the environment. An IG droid stood tall on a makeshift rod attached to a tread with a wooden broom clutched in its metal two-pronged hand. Robotically, and expectedly, it brushed the warm floor side to side, ridding it of those pesky grains.
The droid was obviously not in the shape it should have been. IG droids were made to be assassins, programmed mercenaries built to kill and capture bounties. This one had no legs as its torso sat on its metal pole, carved out from the inside to make it possible. Its torso ended at its computer interface port, which was still intact. There were no ammo cartridges strapped to its chest, but its paralysis cords remained intact within its pair of lanky metal arms. Atop of all its machinery sat its head, undamaged in that odd cone-shaped form it had, with multiple red dots of optical sensors and one telescopic sensor that could swivel a full 360 degrees.
"I h-h-have finished. It is your turn, R-R-R6." The droid's voice came through with crackles and glitches, a result of its junkyard origins.
An R6 droid, painted white and orange with some wear and tear around its sides, rolled up from one of the three rooms the house had. It collided with a half-open metallic box, a dustpan. Using its three wheels, it pushed the dustpan towards the IG droid, patiently waiting for it to brush aside the dust and sand it had collected. The small R6 droid only had one optical sensor, a big one sat in the middle of its hemispherical and squared head that could swivel just as the IG droid could. Of course, this droid was in a better condition—it was a droid that had been passed down through generations.
It had chirped in glee as it worked, something it observed from the humans it constantly interacted with.
Down the stairs, in a room below the surface, Annalisa awoke in her room as she did everyday, stretching only to a certain spot in the air as to not hit the ceiling. White walls of hardened sand surrounded her, curved and cured to fit in harmony with the underground facilities in town. A few metal dressers and cabinets had a spot here and there, a wooden vanity right beside the entrance held a big mirror that reflected the entire room. There were no windows; a lamp on the vanity was all the light she would get. Her bed frame made of metal kept her cool at night, a key stable in the heat wave that washed over Tatooine so often.
Most of Annalisa's belongings came from her previous home on Naboo, markets on Coruscant, or were handmade by herself or a family member. She owned two hard-shelled storage bins that were stowed away in the far back of her room beside a dresser. Annalisa couldn't let things go as easily as she was told to. Her father's name was engraved into the side of her bed frame. The name Keiran was as clear as the sky became at night, a name so perfectly indented into the metal that it would take too long to smudge. As far as for her toys and trinkets from her youth, well, those were in those bins.
Getting up from the more than comfortable mattress, Annalisa changed out of her pajamas. She turned on her lamp with a click and took off her sleeping dress. The silk-like material ensured that it wound not stick to her suntanned skin in the humidity. It was beige, like the sand that sat outside her home and covered the planet. Annalisa exchanged the dress for breathable clothes that did well in battle. The long-sleeved shirt, colored a faint orange with a black collar, and black pants seemed to be restrictive, but Annalisa was trained in fighting at the worst of times and circ*mstances. The heat was something she was used to by now.
Annalisa was a muscular woman. In no way was she a body builder or a wrestler, but she maintained her body the way she always had; Annalisa never gave herself a day of rest. It was not how she was trained, she would say, to lounge about and let her muscles leave her body. Her tall figure was joined with an equally as large head of hair. A frizzy mess bounced on her back, syncing with her movements, and seemed to grow in the humidity. Moving around while asleep created a tangled mess that laid against her back. Having so much thick hair was looked down upon in such an arid planet. It was well-kept and cared for by the various products inside the house bathroom. The blooming bouquet of hair Annalisa had was only trimmed for its split ends when needed.
She took a seat at her vanity, setting her bottom on the small stool of a cushion, and rubbed her eyes. They were beautifully brown, as was her hair and skin, orbs of oak wood surrounded by white snow. Snow. It was something she had only seen once in her life on Hoth. Dark freckles splashed across her nose and cheeks. No one in her family had freckles and it made her stand out. It only made her teeth look whiter when she smiled.
"Boys? Are you two up yet?" Her voice resonated through the walls of her room, traveling up the stairs and into the kitchen.
Her response was a song of beeps and boops. Unluckily for her, humans had yet to evolve to understand machinery without a translator. As if on cue, another voice came through the air.
"He says y-y-yes, Miss Veru-u-na."
Annalisa let out a chuckle as she fastened her boots to her feet. The black leather on the shoes had seen better days, but its damage displayed bits and pieces of battles that Annalisa had been in. According to her memory, she could remember where each cut and graze of a blaster came from. Her droids quizzed her on it every so often.
The stairs leading upwards had metal beneath the layers of dirt and clay, as most houses did in town. Their frames were sturdy against the frequent sandstorms. The oval shape of an opening made it seem like a tunnel, slightly cramped but open enough for anyone to walk through. A dull, heavy sound came from them when stepped upon them. Her father had ensured these stairs had metal frames underneath them so no matter how many falls and accidents occurred, the stairs would remain.
The common area and kitchen was the most normal room in the entire house. The round edges disappeared with the defined edges of cabinets and counters. A metal table and matching chairs stood in the middle of the sandy room, with a kitchen area to its right. Annalisa stood at the top of her stairs, inhaling the fresh scent of baked bread with closed eyes. It made her stomach rumble. Last night, there was beef stew for dinner but the dawn of the new day brought forth a new appetite.
"I smell rosemary today," Annalisa said through her deep exhale of breath.
The light entering through the windows brightened Annalisa's view of her home but it highlighted the dark opening to her right. Looking over, her feet refused to move in that direction. It felt cold to walk down those set of stairs that seemed to be parsecs away. The bedroom was haunting, a lasting impression of what once was. Even thinking of entering sent a shiver down her spine.
"You must try th-th-the bread." The IG droid rolled to the metal oven and opened its door. Thanks to the droid's slightly hollowed out construction, it could move up and down its pole at its own leisure. Without legs, it could not bend over so it was better than nothing. "R6 tells me human-ns l-l-like ch-ch-change."
When its stutters worsened, its head would turn each time it struggled to get a word out. Sometimes, when it was really bad, sparks would fly from its voice box.
Annalisa came around the table, inspecting all that was part of the kitchen. The open oven allowed that grey steam to escape, covering her in that seasoning-filled scent. There were thin sheets of meat on the stovetop, still raw and unseasoned, rigidly cut in a back and forth sequence. It had been the work of IG, clearly.
"I wouldn't say that for all humans. Some of us despise change because it disrupts our mental equilibrium." She turned on the stovetop and waited for the meat to sizzle.
Annalisa's hair became a sponge atop her back. It sucked in the dry air and seemed to grow in size as she picked at the meat cooking. Portions and strands fell past her shoulders, which resulted in a whip of her head to free her vision.
IG rolled forward and stopped beside Annalisa. Instead of bringing its metal hands to the food atop it, it slowly pushed its right hand onto her head. Its metal was warm today, thanks to the oven. IG would usually have the coldest hands in the galaxy but its black paint allowed its machinery to absorb all the sunlight the twin suns gave it.
"Your hair will get i-in the food. Tie it, pl-pl-please."
Annalisa rolled her eyes and managed to say, "You never fail to surprise me," through her loud laughter.
And so she retreated into the bathroom, pressing a button and waiting for the blaster-like door to open on its own. It opened to reveal a room smaller than her dormitory: a mirror, a sink, a toilet, and a bathtub surrounded by unnaturally blue tiles. Tile was a material not native to Tatooine in the slightest and Keiran Veruna knew that when he built the house. Naboolians loved to use tile for their private bathrooms and, since her mother was from Naboo, it was only appropriate for Keiran to bring his wife a piece from her home world.
A small vent, a grate chiseled into the concrete-like sand, sat on the ceiling above the toilet. Tatooine was primitive in many ways and one could only advance their home so much until small things like vents seemed to be too much. Annalisa personalized her bathroom as much as she could and being the only human in the home made things easier. Keeping the door open, she continued to speak to her droids as she moistened and brushed her hair.
"Have you boys heard the news from last night? The quarry I picked up from Nevarro has been stolen. A Mandalorian, out of all people, took the beskar prize and the quarry. What a scandal!"
"Mandalor-rians still ex-ex-exist?"
"Of course, they do, IG. They're hiding just as we are. But...I should have expected that to happen." Holding a hair-tie between her lips, Annalisa began to secure her braid, spinning her thick hair over itself in a rehearsed manner. "With so few of them, I have no clue where their allegiance stands anymore. There's no telling how many clans are out there."
Peeking beside the bathroom door, R6 had let out a melody of a response. It waited for Annalisa to look at it through the mirror before continuing.
"He says this Man-Mandalorian is long g-gone."
"Oh, I don't doubt it. Mandalorians are known for staying hidden and for being exceptional fighters." Finishing her braid, where it ended beyond her tailbone, Annalisa secured the hair-tie right before the point of her hair as her bangs rested like a crown on the sides of her face. "They must have had a reason to do so—Mandalorians don't act that way without proper reason."
The oil on the griddle hopped and jumped as the three spoke to each other. R6 couldn't see the meat itself, let alone above the stove at all, but it watched as IG took hold of a spatula and flipped the meat. Seeing these objects that humans depended on and often exclaimed how delicious it was, well, the droids couldn't help but wonder what food tasted like. It was a phenomenon they would never get to know, no matter what their programming told them. A description could never compare to a sensation.
Just as IG turned off the stove, a familiar song came from R6's voice box. It sounded like morse code, a short beep followed by a long boop. Annalisa recognized those words without needed another droid to translate. As she stepped out of the bathroom, she laid a hand on its domed head.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you but...I have no desire as of right now to work on the X-Wing. Looking at it reminds me too much—"
"Cooking is inter-r-resting." The house droid had begun opening and closing the upper cabinets multiple times before taking out a single plate. "You should try it, R6. It keeps u-us busy."
As Annalisa approached the stove and received her plateful of breakfast, she whispered, "Thank you," to IG before taking a seat at the table. Oh, but before she could sit, R6 pushed one of the metal chairs away from the table. The droid slowly pushed it back in, scraping it against the ground, as Annalisa sat down. A cloth rag was placed on her lap as utensils were set beside her plate.
"What did I do to deserve such wonderful boys?" Annalisa took her fork in hand and picked up a thin slab of meat. The smell of its freshness was enough to persuade her smile to stick around a little longer. "Now, I need—"
"Your datapad?" IG was ready, metal arm extended with the tablet in hand.
"I swear to the Maker, you two will be the death of me."
The droids had excused themselves and allowed their human to eat freely. It left the common room as quiet as Tatooine would allow it to be. She read the galactic news, swiping away at all the posts about the Empire-fanatic groups. There was never a fluent or fully formed article in her radius, though the anonymous posts on potential Empire sightings around the Outer Rim were more helpful than harmful. The part of the galaxy that Annalisa called home wasn't exactly the home of best-selling authors and philosophers worthy of recognition.
Stormtroopers were seldom spotted here. Not in Mos Eisley, no, they wouldn't dare with the half a dozen stakes outside the cantina with white helmets pushed through them.
Eating a piece of bread that she had cut and broke in half, Annalisa closed her eyes in bliss. Bread was such a bland thing and IG managed to infuse it with flavor that made her mouth water. Continuing to chew, she looked over the tablet once more and was reminded of her days being at this very table with two others. She could remember all the times she had shared a meal with someone as though it happened yesterday.
She could hear Luke Skywalker's voice, young and high-pitched, talking up a storm as they ate meat patties with Leia Organa. On the Millennium Falcon, Han Solo's absolutely beautiful ship (in Annalisa's mind, as the rest of the galaxy thought it was a piece of garbage), the three of them would sit together in between missions. Annalisa would answer any and all questions the young Skywalker had purely out of amusem*nt. That child of golden hair and blue eyes could never be erased from her memory.
Battles between the Rebellion and the Empire, years of death and bloodshed, reminded Annalisa of her younger sister. A beautiful girl by the name of Alys Veruna with bright blue eyes just as Luke had, with dark hair that flowed almost as long as Annalisa's. The sisters were six years apart and, as much as Annalisa wished for that to be the reason for their fighting, it wasn't.
But alas, no longer was there a pair of blue eyes watching Annalisa as she cooked or ate or cleaned or talked or worked. No longer was there a standing figure at the front door waiting for her to put on her traveling cloak, jumping up and down from the excitement to tag along. The house was quiet and her dark room reminded Annalisa that she was the last human in the Veruna household.
Bikes and cruisers passed by outside the Veruna home with their faint-sounding engines. Conversations couldn't be made out. In the sunlight coming through the windows, Annalisa was left to squint to see the graphics on the somewhat holographic datapad. It was a very old model. Nowadays, the words on the screen were a stronger hue and visible in direct sunlight. Having an updated datapad felt unnecessary.
As Annalisa finished her food, she set the datapad down and hung her head in her hands.
"Why won't you come back, Alys?" Her whisper echoed in the empty kitchen.
The constant rattling of machinery could be heard approaching. Treading on sand and clay would make a sound when done with metal, as IG could never sneak up on anybody. His wheels squeaked and his hands clamped and sealed around the railing leading down into Keiran Veruna's room. His was the only room with a ramp, a steep on at that, and IG needed the extra support to carry himself up into the kitchen.
"IG, I know what you came here for," Annalisa sucked in a breath as she lifted her head, "and you can spare the—"
"I do not recommend dwell-l-ling on the past."
With her arms outstretched on the somewhat empty table, leaning in a manner that would push her chest into its edge, she smiled plainly at the droid.
"Yes, I thought you'd say that."
Annalisa could only watch as IG treaded towards the table like a land vehicle. The traction made the droid's entire body shake and shiver, almost vibrating to its own rhythm. It stood next to her, raising its hand to rest on her head.
"I do not l-like seeing you frustrated." Its static gaze was set on the datapad sitting on the table, screen left on to be read. Its programming allowed IG to understand most languages around the galaxy so, whatever Annalisa could read, it could as well. "The last you were stressed, you-you-you refused to leave your bed. That is n-no good for a human."
The quiet home echoed the droid's sentiments. With no other human to weigh in their thoughts, Annalisa's droids were her first sources of advice. She looked up to the droid as the metal hand sat above her hair. Her brown eyes stood out amongst the bleak shade that surrounded the Tatooinian home.
"Have I ever told you how much you sound like my father?"
"C-C-Constantly."
IG had never met Keiran Veruna. Unlike R6, the ex-assassin droid did not grow up in Naboo at the Queen's palace, roaming halls and gardens that were kept to Padmé Amidala's standards. IG did not know a thing of the Jedi Order or of the Temple on Coruscant, other than what was told to it. Only R6 retained the memories of the generations before Annalisa. When Annalisa was reprograming the discarded droid, its old memory had to be wiped clean to start a new one.
Done with her food, Annalisa brought her dirty dishes to the sink and rolled up her sleeves. With limited water on Tatooine and in her tank, she would rather use what she needed in the moment. As she reached for the faucet, a metal hand was put on her shoulder. Its weight alone would stop anyone in their tracks.
"All right, IG," the woman chuckled. She held her hands up in defense. "You can't say I don't try around here!"
Annalisa had sewed together long rubber gloves so the droid would have little difficulty performing daily chores around the home. The terms of its existence were mutually agreed upon between the three; it was never made to be a servant in its new programming.
Walking away from the sink, Annalisa approached the front door of her home. There sat her black cloak and backpack on a special rack made by her father. The combination of metal and wood housed other essentials of stepping out onto the terrain around the house. A simple pull had wrapped her cloak around her shoulders. She had just about clicked the golden button into place, securing the chain below her neck, when her eyes set on the cabinet below the hanging rack.
The tracking fob she had received days ago sat in silence. A small rectangle of a device, an antenna sticking out of the top, it would flash red if the chain code it was attached to was nearby. It merely collected dust now, sitting alone in the cabinet. Greef Karga, the Magistrate on Nevarro that worked for the Guild, spared her the trip to the client in question. Karga had many extra fobs, which begged the questions as to how important this quarry was.
The quarry was originally spotted on Arvala-7, yet another planet known for being abandoned, desolate, and barren. Now that some Mandalorian had run off with it, away from Nevarro, there was no point in exploring either planet. Bounty hunting was a difficult thing when it came to being a source of income. For Annalisa, it was something fun to do on the side, a break from her tactfully scheduled day-to-day life. Why bother with a wild chase? Being a Mandalorian, no hunter would ever be able to capture him.
Pressing a button on the panel beside her, the metal door whooshed open and welcomed a sudden gust of sandy and salty air. Annalisa had strapped on her leather backpack, securing it over her cloak. One would have thought she would have almost jumped out of her house with all the errands she had to run today, but she didn't. She hesitated at the open door.
It was almost as if the air had taken the form of someone's hand, poking their finger on her right shoulder. An image came into her mind: the tracking fob. Annalisa shook her head, thinking that the Force was playing around with her sense of adventure. Stepping out of the door, only her right boot had made it onto the sand when she heard the attention-grabbing song R6 sang from time to time. She turned around, braid slowly swinging behind her.
"He says t-to take the fob with-with you."
Face hidden from her droids, a smirk formed on her face despite the grains of sand flicking at her skin.
"Well, if you're certain something will happen, R6, then I'll do it."
Fob in hand, quickly transferred into her pant's pocket, Annalisa began her journey into town. Most would think it excruciatingly harsh to walk amongst the nothingness that filled the space between Annalisa's home and the center of Mos Eisley. She enjoyed it. Beneath her cloak, her hands rested on her belt, more so on the holsters on each side of her hip than the leather itself. Her blaster rested on her left, ready to be used at any moment. On her right side, there was a weapon that was mainly kept in hiding. It was for good reason.
There was already a bounty on her head. It had been that way for a while now, starting when she had joined forces with Princess Leia and Luke Skywalker. Her aid in the destruction of the Death Star (both of them, if one wanted to be accurate) enlisted her for rotations and rotations of fighting and protecting. With no recent attacks on her life, Annalisa figured whoever made the bounty wasn't strictly enforcing it. Jedi were nothing but myths now, lies told to others to embellish one's ego and image. Hood over her head, no one cared who Annalisa was because, to them, she was no one at all.
Her backpack was a simple one made of leather that was too worn out to be fought over. It was mainly used to carry things of little importance to and from a location, like the market. There was nothing about her that screamed the word suspicion, not even the different types of currency she had to her name. Annalisa was no big spender, for she learned better from her father. Imperial Credits were still of value, though most rural planets preferred other currencies. So, at home, different bags carried different things. It was how she remained prepared for any given situation.
"A headband for you, miss!" a local merchant called out to her as she walked by. Their cart was filled with different types of fabric and linens. They all looked cheap and old. "Originally three hundred and twenty wupiupi but, for you, only two hundred and fifty six wupiupi! What do you say?"
Annalisa kindly shook her head to each merchant that called out to sell such a small item for an expensive price. She knew all about the worth of items after living there for so long. There were only certain people she bought from, people that she could trust her money with. Mos Eisley was her home. There was no use in hiding and, for that, she worried not about spies or Imperial officers roaming around. Everyone recognized the long braid attached to her head that fell over her torso when she wore her hood.
Most thought of Mos Eisley to be made of mere huts compared to Mos Espa. The city itself was large enough with how many houses and businesses were present. The buildings, slapped with sand over the years, all had the same deterioration markings on then. Flying overhead, one would think each home was built the same, the way the inner city was cramped together. On the outskirts of the city, Annalisa had more space to herself.
She arrived at one of the mechanic shops, one that had a gigantic junkyard in the back. The shop was run by Toydarians, these short and chubby creatures that flew most of the time. They had webbed feet and thick, wrinkly noses that hung and curved over their mouths. Overtime, Annalisa learned that the original shop was in Mos Espa, but the family ultimately decided to expand to Mos Eisley for more profit.
"Gingu! How are you this fine morning?" Annalisa walked in and greeted the light green Toydarian in Huttese.
The building, or hut rather, was poorly lit and musty. It smelled of oil and a hint of garbage, a smell most newcomers would gag at. Seldom were there candles or fragrances from the owner's wife. She was never around anymore; she hadn't shown up inside the shop for years. Annalisa assumed that she had died or divorced, but ultimately did not know what Toydarians thought of marriage. There could have been a simple reason behind it all.
"I wish the day was over already," he grunted as he flew over to see her at the door. His opaque wings buzzed as he flew up and down. The movements were as such to stabilize his small and chubby figure. "What do you need this time? Still looking for droid legs? Too bad, we don't have any."
"You know, with how much money I've paid your business over the years, I thought you would have liked me by now."
"Bah. I don't like anyone," the Toydarian guffawed. His hearty laughter always sounded like he was going to cough something up. His raspy voice wasn't the most pleasant. Nevertheless, he told her she could have a look at whatever she wanted to.
With a quick glance at the yard, Annalisa saw that Gingu was right. Apart from a disappointingly low volume of droid parts, the junkyard was almost empty. There was a Twi'lek in the yard that rummaged through the remaining ship parts strewn about. Everything was old. Tatooine was not the place to find new parts, unless one went to the Spaceport. Even then, one would only find something of value when the twin suns finally hated each other and went their separate ways.
Annalisa grabbed a few canisters of oil instead, remembering that IG would soon ask for more. The metal tins were about the size of a large can of beans. She set them down on the dirty counter, waiting as Gingu spoke to the Twi'lek outside. Looking around the shop, the bugs crawling behind the counter made Annalisa shiver. She tried not to focus on the sound of them chattering and humming in their own corner. It was an everyday thing for the junkyard building.
"Just four cans?" Gingu came flying to the counter, his wrinkly arm extended to receive the payment. "That'll be eight peggats."
"I appreciate your financial integrity," she laughed, handing him the money. The coins hit each other and fell into Gingu's thick hand. "I'd hate for you to try and heckle me again. You know that I'm fully aware of the worth my peggats carry."
"Money speaks louder than words. I don't care what people think of my selling methods."
With the oil canisters in her backpack, hefty and clanking against each other, Annalisa was left to carefully maneuver around the sand to find the food vendor she liked. With so many people walking around, she was afraid someone would be so bold as to try and jump her. It was a fear that came and went, something that shouldn't have bothered her. She was more than capable of taking care of herself. Her days of visiting the market as a child with her sister remained in the back of her head.
Those were days well spent. Two innocent children roaming Tatooine could lead to many terrible things. Most times when some twisted robber tried stealing from the Veruna sisters, they were publicly humiliated. No one could recover their reputation after being beaten to the ground by children.
Mos Eisley was no place for a greenhouse, yet there was one ahead of the market and the lines of huts for homes. Annalisa knocked on the wooden door and waited. The house itself was made of the same material all houses around Tatooine were made of, but it was composed of more glass than most. The entire ceiling was made of the see-through material and the windows were bigger than the rest. The combination of wood, clay, and glass made the business susceptible to being broken into.
A human came to the door, a pale women covering her face with a brown hood. Her cloak hid her body from the harsh suns and prying eyes. Long locks of silver and white hair crept out and slithered over her face. Her hand waved furiously towards Annalisa, ushering her inside with a strange sense of urgency.
"Reima? What's the matter?" Weak hands pushed Annalisa inside from her backpack. When she turned around, the old lady was busy trying to lock the sturdy and very old door.
If Annalisa were completely honest, a simple kick would tear the door down. However, if it made the old woman comfortable, she said nothing about it.
The change in atmosphere was almost instantaneous. The blaring heat from the suns' rays turned into blatantly wet humidity. The air inside the building was disgustingly moist. If it were not for the slight ventilation in the ceiling, the entire room would be filled with fog and mist. It smelled of fresh dirt and rainwater, an odd sensation to feel on the dry planet that was Tatooine. The walkway passed through the middle of the building, plants and patches of dirt off to the left and right.
"I saw some folks out there staring at the window for too long," the woman hissed. Hunched and walking past Annalisa, she beckoned her to follow her. Reima's voice carried her worry. "They were going to steal the plants. There's a bigger demand for roots and I fear they want mine."
A glass home for her plants could easily be destroyed and swept under the sand, but the shop keeper was more interested in keeping the door locked than that. Paranoia was a terrible sickness, though it became worse when one could reason with it.
"Fret not, Reima. If anyone tries anything," Annalisa pat the blaster clipped to her belt, "I can deal with them."
The lady waved away her promise, already knowing what it was she came there for. Annalisa let her arms stretch out to her sides to feel the plants around her. Some stems were long enough for her to feel and others were in the midst of growing. Most of the flowers had yet to bud. The room only carried colors of the green variety. Reima worked hard for the building. She found just enough water to make a system that filtered through the plants, then back to itself. The house was its own ecosystem trapped in the middle of a planet with an eternal drought.
As the woman picked the vegetables off of the plants, each assigned their own patch of soil on the sides of the house, Annalisa inquired about the latest quarry everyone was talking about. Rumors were going around and most in the town had already heard the latest update from those on Nevarro. The cantina was loud, but gossip was louder.
"I say that Mandalorian is going to hide them away on some forsaken planet," Reima grunted alongside the impact of her small hand shovel into the ground. Surprisingly, she had enough strength left in her to tend to the garden all on her own. She refused to hire any help. "He's going to make everyone regret going after him. He'll kill whoever tries to interfere. That's what Mandalorians do."
"I'd rather think about the sort of weapon he has. Most Mandalorians I've heard of have normal blasters like the rest of us, but legends describe such amazing pieces of weaponry."
Annalisa knew of a Mandalorian years ago, hired by Vader and the Hutts. Last she saw him, he was swallowed up by a Sarlacc. That day was filled with action out in the Dune Sea and that Mandalorian quite literally fell victim to it. He had a jetpack with a powerful rocket launcher, one Annalisa couldn't seem to take her eyes off of. Though he chose not to call himself a Mandalorian, for Creeds were a watery topic, but the armor's history was undeniable.
"Oh, but this one sounds deadly, Annalisa. People have said that he is one of the best bounty hunters the Guild has ever known." Handing Annalisa a burlap bag, she carefully put the vegetables into it. Her fragile, bone-thick arms snaked out from beneath her cloak to do so.
As they were both kneeling on the ground, Reima slowly pulled at her hood. Her blinding silver eyes stood out from the dull background of her burlap cloak. The dry lips on her face cracked as they opened again.
"I wouldn't go looking for him, if I were you." Her black pupils would have been terrifying to the random stranger. To Annalisa, they were always welcoming. It was like looking into the eyes of a family loth-cat; a warm sensation of trust.
"Says the one who hides for a living. You don't want me going anywhere."
"I have too big of a debt to be frolicking around in Hutt territory." The hooded lady stood up and held her palm out. Without control, her hand vibrated with tremors. "My business keeps me alive. You must understand that, even if Jabba is gone."
"Believe me, Reima, I understand very well."
A smile on her face, Annalisa handed her a small pouch filled to the brim with coins. Like a child on Life Day, she waited for the vendor to open it.
"B-But...Annalisa, what is this?!" Her yell was covered by a whisper, still loud yet discrete. Reima's white eyes had widened at the sight of the coins. "The food was only worth a peggat or two. Th-This is too much!"
Smirking, Annalisa packed away the vegetables and adjusted her bag on her back. She enjoyed the shrill shock in Reima's voice. Walking towards the door, Reima followed her hunter friend with her hands extended.
"You said you had a debt to pay, Reima. Fifty peggats can go a long way here, I'm sure. Use it for maintenance as well. You'll need all the water you can get." As the lady tried grabbing a hold of Annalisa, she pat her friend's cold and brittle hand.
Such an interaction happened frequently to those Annalisa kept dear to her heart.
"Keep it, I insist. If you give it back, I'll return with Imperial Credits. You know how much those are worth to the right people."
Annalisa left the greenhouse with a slight skip in her step. The town of Mos Eisley had an unspoken rule about Reima's house, one that everyone knew without being told. Those who were acquaintances of the Veruna family were not to be messed with. The last someone had tried stealing Reima's livelihood, well...
They awoke to swollen eyes and half of their body sunk into the Dune Sea.
The past owner of the greenhouse had a run-in with the Hutts and paid his debt with his life. That was normal around Tatooine, though life sentences were served differently now. Indentured servitude was a galaxy-wide favorite. Even in an underdeveloped town, compared to Mos Espa, debts remained debts. Still, Reima had reason to worry. The past owner was her uncle, after all.
Heading home was the next step in Annalisa's day, but she couldn't resist visiting bay three-five any time she could. Pilots and passengers that came into the Spaceport for maintenance had a habit of trying to scam her friend out of her money. She, the renowned Peli Motto, was a good friend of the Veruna family.
Passing the cantina was Annalisa's favorite part of coming to the market. Often, another hunter would call out her name in hopes for some competition. Today, however, there was none. The rowdy restaurant seemed to simmer down as she walked by, head held high with eyes set on the Spaceport. The majority of doorways to separate bays were closed, rusted metal doors kept shut for so long that they were often stuck that way. Screams of metal being welded could be heard from within, along with the harmony of spinning screws and bolts. It smelled of home, of the oil Annalisa's droids loved so much.
The circular hangar that was bay three-five was empty. The toolboxes and storage crates were closed up with the corresponding equipment on standby. The giant landing pad in the middle was clear, ready for a ship to land at any second. All of the machinery surrounding it was kept as best as it could be, considering that Tatooine wasn't the most technologically advanced planet, especially the town of Mos Eisley. At least it wasn't Mos Pelgo. That town had been wiped off most maps of Tatooine because of how insignificant and primitive it had become.
"Peli? Are you in here betting with the droids again?"
Approaching her friend's windowed office, Annalisa saw her sitting at the table to the side of the room, kept in the shade by an overhanging roof. Peli's helping droids were sitting at the other side of the metal table, metal legs kicking underneath the table. The tension in the air was unmistakable. Seeing the woman and three droids huddled over each other told the story of optimistic betting and expectant winnings.
"Ah. My assumption was correct," she laughed, approaching the table. "Nice to see you all so riled up again."
"Annie! Oh, you are such a sight for sore eyes." The middle-aged woman, more older than younger, ran to Annalisa and hugged her on sight.
Her curly hair bounced along with her attitude. Peli was quite the bubbly person, though her snarky remarks were the best part of her. The ginger color infused in her hair with the shade of brown the suns provided her with were a perfect match. She had her usual leather uniform on, something Peli had thrown together herself to look presentable at work. It would be a hot day on Hoth if she didn't have a streak of oil somewhere on her slightly wrinkled face.
"You headed off for that new quarry? I'm sure I can find you a pilot in no time."
"Oh, there's no use in looking. The Mandalorian that found the quarry ran off with them." Walking back to the table with Peli, Annalisa set her backpack down on one of the chairs after pulling down her hood. The loss in weight mandated her shoulders to roll and stretch.
"What?! You only took that job a few days ago!" Peli crossed her arms, more than perplexed.
The DUM-series droids approached Annalisa and stood around her. Their skinny and rusty bodies, topped with a thin dome head, contrasted their large eye. Each droid had their ow personality, but they all loved Annalisa.
"Was it stolen off of Nevarro? Can't picture What's-His-Face letting a quarry go like that. Then again, I ain't no expert on the hunting business."
Annalisa took Peli's invitation to sit at the table. The two shook their heads in unison, looking off into the distance. It wasn't often that the gifted hunter would be left without answers.
"Word in the cantina is that the Mandalorian had his clan to support him. The fight destroyed a lot of the town in the process."
"A whole Mandalorian clan..." Peli let out a low whistle and shook her head. "That sounds like those stories your parents tell you about. I'm not stupid enough to fight a Mandalorian, let alone a whole group of them."
One of the hangar droids, orange and partially rusted, sat beside Annalisa. Her hand had found its way atop the droid's thin head, giving it a pat or two. In turn, the droid pointed to the Sabacc playing cards. Its child-like behavior was impossible to miss.
Peli couldn't resist such a suggestion. A game had commenced. The cards could lure even the most serious of people to hand over enormous amounts of money. Annalisa's bag had been moved underneath her seat for the other droids to sit back down. The cards had been dealt and the game was in progress. There were enough credits to go around for the group as they sat in the middle of the table. Slow streams of wind passed by the ceiling-covered area, tempting the humans at the table to change their poker face.
The droid beside the Jedi had begun poking her long braid. It didn't exactly know what hair was, other than it being as similar to hay and straw as it was to fishing wire. Its system couldn't compute the complexity that came with identifying the variety of hair among different species. Annalisa had a braid that almost seemed to bounce back at its touch. That's all the droid was interested in and, therefore, it was content.
Conversation came about when enough cards had been dismissed. Annalisa and Peli continued to eye each other as they spoke of the wellbeing of Annalisa's droids and Peli's business. There was a quick mention of Mos Pelgo, as always.
"I couldn't make it into town the last I went," Annalisa continued as her eyes remained on her cards. The stretched, hexagonal shaped material sat comfortably in her grasp. "Men in odd uniforms were there. I thought speeding inside would endanger any remaining villagers. I felt it as a sign that I shouldn't have gone in the first place."
"You still talking to that guy you told me about?"
Cobb Vanth. The name had instantly poked its way into Annalisa's mind. Peli noticed the way her brown eyes had shifted to the side, away from her cards.
"He's from Mos Pelgo, ain't he?" the Spaceport mechanic grinned. "I'm surprised people still live there. Haven't heard much about it these days you know, other than what you just told me."
"Neither have I, considering that...we don't talk anymore." Clearing her throat, Annalisa rapidly shuffled the order her cards were in.
The topic of conversation made her think Peli was trying to diminish her focus. A Jedi had to remain calm under pressure, even if said pressure was coming from mention of a past lover.
"It was nothing personal." Annalisa reached for another card, slowly bringing it from the deck to her hand. "Sounds personal to me if the thought of him makes you wanna grab another card."
When Annalisa's eyes caught sight of the green-backed card, a cough had punched the inside of her throat. The slight twitch along her lips was the exact reaction Peli was waiting for.
"I guess that guy ain't as lucky as I thought!" Laughing, complete with snorts and finger-jabbing, she slammed the table with a tight fist. "All right! Ladies and gentle-droids, it is time to drop your cards! Let's see 'em!"
The three droids were the first to expose their cards. Each of the them had a total value lower than fifteen, nowhere near a winning twenty-three. One of the little droids had crossed its arms in anger, while the other two tapped the metal table with anticipation. The game was between Annalisa and Peli now, a situation that happened often with their games of Sabacc. The suns in the sky watched on and burned with anticipation.
Both women tapped their fingers along the corners of their cards, waiting to see who would lower their hand first. The deck had long been weathered down and dusted. The cards they held were crumpled and prone to bending when in direct contact with the wind. Peli owned the deck within its tin container for as long as she could remember. Their age couldn't trample the victory of either person, whoever it was that won.
"What's the matter? Jedi powers not working? I'll help you out if you can't count." Laughing again with her tongue sticking out, Peli threw her cards onto the table. Her arms stretched outwards, basking in her assumed victory. "That's a twenty-one I got there. The Force can't help you change your cards, lil' Annie!"
Looking over her cards, Annalisa counted them again and again. The movement of her eyes sent Peli into another episode of laughter, something she did quite often. Getting a twenty-one in this variation of Sabacc was one of the luckiest hands one could have. Drawing another card with that hand tempted failure.
"I expected nothing less from my favorite swindler," the Jedi sighed. Her eyebrows slowly moved upwards in recognition. "A clear twenty-one is due for a proper congratulations."
As Peli reached for the credits in the middle of the table, she found her hand suddenly frozen in time. Her eyes traveled to Annalisa faster than lightspeed travel, wider than a speederbike's headlight, whose free hand was raised.
"However," Annalisa slowly lowered her hand for all to see, "I do believe a total of twenty-two deserves the win."
As Peli and the DUM-series droids inspected the cards, they had realized Annalisa was right. According to the rules of their own game, she had won fair and square. No mistake could be made seeing the cards on the table, nor could a Jedi trick have changed her luck.
"Oh, come on! How do you even pull a hand like that?!" Along with Peli, the droids let out a frustrated noise at losing the game. One had even hit the edge of the table in its dismay.
"I've played this game with the most untrustworthy of thieves and smugglers around." Annalisa extended her hands and took her winning credits with a laugh. She only took back the money that she had bet herself.
Peli had begun to collect her initial bet, muttering how her cheating methods didn't work on Jedi. Meanwhile, Annalisa followed the droids to the middle of the hangar. They had brought her over so that she would display her powers to them. Seeing the small droids lift their metal limbs like children made Annalisa smile uncontrollably.
Exaggerating her movements with sounds coming from her mouth, she had raised a toolbox into the air. The whirrs of excitement coming from the droids reminded her of her own.
"All right, all right," Peli jogged over to her droids, "let's not break the only tools I got. I'm sure Annie's capable of lifting bigger things than a flimsy toolbox of mine."
"You're right. I've moved entire ships before." As the toolbox slowly dropped to the sandy ground, Annalisa looked up to the sky. Her eyes were on the suns, the ones that she had set her eyes upon since she was a child.
It was about midday now. Time went by quickly when one was having fun. Annalisa's backpack and been lifted and adjusted, as was her cloak. Her fingers ran through her scalp and shook her bangs. Sitting in a small escape from the sunlight had been changed for standing at the doorframe of Peli's office. She had already informed her mechanic friend that it was about time she return to her droids.
There was no need for them to worry that someone may have run off with her. Annalisa had more manners than that.
The expert mechanic, though limited by Tatooine's technology shortage, stood at her control board. Transmissions and daily logs were what she had to look through to figure out when her next customer would appear. It was a hard job, waiting on an underdeveloped planet filled with things that could kill you for some poor soul to ask for repairs. The heat alone was enough of a deterrent.
"Is Keiran still playing hide and seek with you?"
"That's one way to put it." Annalisa's spell of laughter was lighthearted and covered with nervousness. Peli was able to pick up on it; most couldn't. "It's been some time since he's shown himself to me. I don't mind. I can sometimes feel his presence when I'm working."
The steady beep, beep, beep from the radar counted the seconds of the conversation. The atmosphere was empty. No incoming ships meant no incoming calls from the main tower. Business was harsh, but Tatooine was worse. The planet alone was the reason for the shortcomings of most inhabitants.
"Ah, I wouldn't think about it too much, Annie. Keiran ain't the type to leave you hanging with everything you've got on your plate right now." As the suns' rays dwindled through the windows, Peli let herself smile without any sort of remark. It was a smile at its purest form.
Thinking of her father only prompted Annalisa's mind to think of her beloved sister. Helping Peli around the hangar used to be their pastime, something they did together. Annalisa would focus on the inner controls and wirings and Alys would organize the interior for optimization. Decorating was Alys's favorite thing to do. If anyone needed their ship's finish to be matte instead of a shiny glaze, Alys was the one who could do it.
The empty hangar now tempted Annalisa to picture her little sister running around the landing pad, arms out and waving like a bird's wings.
"Alys would have loved to give your office a quick once over." The faint smile on Annalisa face remained as her eyes roamed the dull and plain office. Other than a small fan in the corner, there were no notable decoration. "I thought the Hutts and Fortuna would be able to help me but," she shook her head, "they have nothing. Father doesn't tell me much, either. You know how he is."
"You live and you learn," Peli retorted with a shrug of her shoulders. "Family or not, he's still gotta be that Jedi Master-person to teach you about life. Can't be a Jedi or a father without doing that."
The two had hugged and said their goodbyes before Annalisa left the office. If the droids hadn't stalled her from leaving, as they found sudden interest with the gushing noises of oil from within her backpack, she would have not heard the incoming message from the communications table. It indicated that a ship was approaching the atmosphere of Tatooine, requesting immediate assistance.
Annalisa stayed put and searched the skies. A new ship could bring about new networks for jobs and gossip on that Mandalorian's whereabouts. She could see the ship, a silver blob running through the higher altitudes of the atmosphere, descending at a Tauntaun's pace. Most would think it fast, as the animals were, but riding them on Hoth gave the illusion that they weren't moving at all.
No one understood Annalisa's comparisons or metaphors when said verbally. Still, the Tauntaun one was her favorite.
With her eyes still looking up, her right arm used to cover the suns, Annalisa heard the faint sound of the tracking fob going off. She took it out with her free hand, noticing the red circle flash with urgency.
"Stick around, why don't ya?" Peli's voice was faint from behind the office glass. The ship's loud engine was making it harder to be heard the closer it came to the Spaceport. "This sucker could give you your next paycheck!"
Looking between the tracking fob and the ship, Annalisa's thoughts began to connect the way a circuitboard did. The wind forming from the ship's descent blew at her cloak as the fob's indicator sequence repeated faster than before. Closer and closer, time was running out. Soon, the ship would land and the quarry would be right in front of her.
As would the Mandalorian.
The Mandalorian who stole back a quarry and initiated a clan attack on Nevarro would be right in front of her, too.
Annalisa couldn't focus on the droids getting into position or Peli inputting a report in her office The tracking fob never lied. The quarry everyone was after had to be aboard that ship. There was no way in the galaxy she had been given a fake. Greef Karga was better than that. Chain codes, even small bits of them, told the truth.
The ship was landing. There was no time to hide; the Mandalorian had probably already seen her. Seeing the bottom of the vehicle did nothing to aid Annalisa in determining what model it was. She would have to wait until the ship made contact with the ground to determine the situation.
She would have to wait until the Mandalorian saw her, face to face, to determine anything. All she knew were the rumors that spread like wildfire in the cantina.
This Mandalorian was dangerous. There was no debating such a fact.
