Chapter Text
10 BBY
Tatooine wasn’t as awful as Anakin once made it out to be. Or perhaps it would be better said that places like Coruscant weren’t as wonderful as they were made out to be on the glittering holo-movies. Regardless, in Anchorhead, far away from Jabba’s Palace, there was some beauty to be found beneath the watchful and unyielding gaze of the twin suns.
For one thing, the heat didn’t bother her as much as it might a human. Ahsoka didn’t remember much of Shili —she had only spent the first three years of her life there, and then visited only once more at the age of nine to earn her akul-tooth headdress in a rite of passage that left her with a deep scar on her right calf—, but her people were built for grueling hours in air so hot that it rippled. She still held the precious memory of being carried into hunts as a tyke, her head rested against the breast of a warm woman whose face, the same color as hers, was blurred with time.
Next, the buildings. They were akin to unpolished jewels: beige, mostly windowless, and emitting an aura of antiquity in their simplistic designs. They almost reminded Ahsoka of the spires of the Jedi Temple; although, their lack of interest was probably a byproduct of scarcity, not modesty.
And finally, beyond Anchorhead’s walls, the whorls of dust reminded Ahsoka of mist upon a golden sea, from the dramatic waves of unblemished sand to the plethora of beasts within.
As soon as she got her speeder to work, that was where she would be heading.
Earlier, Ahsoka had parked her unassuming shuttle in secure—albeit rundown—starship lot.
“Be careful with it!” Ahsoka had called to the Rodian woman as she locked down the landing gear.
Bail was usually understanding when she got one of his untraceable ships destroyed or stolen, since she would have a bucketful of imperial intel to make up for it. But she was on Tatooine for a personal mission. Very personal. Unnecessary, even. So any damage would be on Ahsoka and Ahsoka alone.
Back to the speeder problem. The very same Rodian woman had rented it to her for only twenty credits, which, in hindsight, should have been a warning sign. Ahsoka’s knack for detecting a person’s level of mendacity seemed to have been weakened by the other matters that stormed her mind. Not very Jedi-like of you, Ahsoka, she thought.
Then again, the white lightsabers attached to her hips meant that such standards didn’t apply anymore.
Ahsoka pressed her foot down on the gas pedal once, twice, eliciting such a weak purr that might as well have come from an emaciated tooka.
“I’m getting my credits back,” Ahsoka murmured to herself.
It was only by luck that on the fifth try, the speeder came to life. Smoke trailed from behind, a little too dark for Ahsoka’s comfort, and Ahsoka could imagine Trace Martez shaking her head at the sight of it.
The speeder propelled forward. She gripped the throttles with whitened knuckles as it flew through the stone archway that served as the eastern egress of Anchorhead and into the great nothingness of Tatooine. She had one destination, and her only map would be the Force.