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Shubble considered herself many things.
In the days of the Republic and of the Jedi Order, she was one of the most promising students. Which was, to her, surprising.
Before the war had even begun, Shubble had been imagining spending her life running her family’s underground bar. If she was really going to end up stuck with a future like that, she had hoped she could make it a little less… drab.
But she didn’t have to. One day, when she was about five years old, a Jedi had come into the bar. They had been confronted by her parents, and had asked only for her. Shubble, to be honest, could not remember them, or their face. She remembered them gently taking her arm in their grasp, and then whisking her away forever. And she hadn’t really minded.
Shubble, now a Jedi Knight, in what was expected to be the end of the Clone Wars, considered herself to be strong, and smart, and quick. Which she was, although she didn’t always show it. Something she would work on.
Would, if she ever got the chance.
Standing before the fallen bodies of her comrades, her teachers, her students, all of that left her. Drained from her body with whatever happiness she held, replaced by a cold, horrible emptiness. This temple was her life. This place was where she’d grown up, where she learned, where she’d become what her childhood dreams always wished she could be. And now she was witnessing it falling apart.
She spun on her heel, throwing her hood over her head. With a little help from the Force, she quietly crushed her lightsaber handle in her fist, carefully extracting her kyber crystal. She shoved it into her pocket, dropping the broken remains of her lightsaber hilt onto the floor behind her. Because she had already noticed what her fallen comrades had not, not until too late. The blaster wounds on each of their bodies matched the make and model of the blasters carried by standard Clones.
The whispers of the orders reached her ears, the directions of the Clones ringing loud; Jedi are to be eliminated. They are traitors to the Republic. Shubble felt the weight of the Force as it lost and lost.
Shubble walked through the halls quickly, stepping around bodies of Jedi and Clones alike, trying her hardest not to look down. The weight of it all was overwhelming. The walk felt longer than she remembered it being. It took all the strength she prided herself on not to fall to her knees with the grief she felt wracking her entire body, rattling her bones and watering in her eyes and shaking her with the rage of it. This was the life she had dreamed of, and it was being taken away, right out from under her feet. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Shubble shuffled as quickly as she could to the hangar, without drawing too much attention to herself. There had been a few close calls where she’d had to throw herself to the floor, blending with bodies. It sickened her, and she knew she would regret it when she was safe for more reasons than one.
Entering the hangar, she turned and shut the door behind her as fast as she could. There seemed to be no Clones there. Lacking strategy, she thought to herself, guilty as soon as she had. Shubble had never been a high rank in the Republic’s military, having tagged along with Jedi General Wilbur Soot more often than not, but Wilbur had drilled the basics of strategy into her, light-heartedly jabbing that she wouldn’t be much use against the Separatists if she didn’t know at least the basics. And there she was, remembering strategy lessons with the soldiers she used to fight beside as they were slaughtering the people she called friends. She took a moment to hope that Wilbur was okay.
Shubble was broken away from her thoughts by a sound. A heavy footstep, followed by nothing but silence. Her head whipped around to find the source of it, spotting, across the hangar, another Jedi. Draped in black, piercing green eyes wide and staring back at her. She ran over, making as little sound as she could manage, closing the distance enough she could whisper-shout and still be heard.
“Go,” she said, ignoring how their face turned quizzical. Now that she was closer, she could see the scars that ran across their face, and had to stop herself from assuming that this would be a piece of cake for them. “There’s a ship right here. Take it and get out of here.”
“And you?” They asked, leaning down to whisper to her, forehead creasing in worry.
“There’s another ship back the way I came in.” She smiled at them, hoping they didn’t notice the bitter edge. “I’ll be fine.” Shubble gave them a playful shove, looking up to meet their eyes. “I swear. Go worry about yourself. Someone needs to make it out of here alive.”
They nodded and turned, taking off towards the ship she’d indicated to them earlier. Shubble stood still and watched them until she was certain they were up the ramp and ran off towards her own ship, boarding as fast as possible. Evermore roared to life beneath her, creaking in protest at being forced into the air so quickly. Shubble ignored it, knowing her ship could handle the little extra work.
She heard another ship take off, and she bolted after it. Evermore groaned with the effort, but Shubble grit her teeth and steered it up as hard as she could, shooting into Coruscant’s atmosphere. In the distance, for only a moment, she heard the surprised shouts of the Clones who had heard her and the other Jedi taking off. Shubble didn’t care to make out their words, jamming hyperspace calculations in as quickly as possible. She shot into hyperspace, content to stare at the blur of blue stars blow by.
-------------------
Shubble had been in hiding for Force knows how long.
Time had stopped being measured by anything other than the rising and setting of the sun on the horizon. She’d stopped counting the days since the event the locals had been calling Order 66. She’d stopped counting the days since she’d heard the voices of her friends, knowing she’d never hear them again. She’d stopped listening to the Force as it sang in her ears of the losses it had suffered.
It had been a long time. Months, at least. Maybe years. Even so, the wounds still stung like fresh ones. Burns she hadn’t bandaged, scrapes that had yet to scab, old cuts that had yet to scar over, all open and waiting for infection.
Shubble hadn’t known where she’d landed. She’d flown until she’d been nearly out of fuel, and landed in a forest not too far away from a small town. Already, she’d accidentally made a name for herself. An accidental reputation. They called her Miss Witch, the witch of the forest, from her questions about the Jedi and her peculiar liking of cauldrons. Most people seemed to consider the Jedi magical, and Shubble had thought it better to simply keep quiet about what she knew of it, playing off her questions as nothing but curiosities.
They did, however, tell her of what was happening outside the planet, in the rest of the galaxy. Shubble, out of fear, had decided to avoid any access to the HoloNet, getting her news from an old-fashioned mailbox that she’d built on her front lawn. The people in town, though, seemed perfectly content to just tell her what was happening.
The Republic had, out of the blue, changed its side. The Separatists were defeated, wiped out without so much as a fight back. But the Republic did not go back to how it had been. The Jedi Order did not return to their studies, the Senate did not return to their usual order of business, the Republic did not disband, no longer needed with the war over. Because there was no more Jedi Order. No Jedi to roam the hallways and libraries. The Senate had become the Imperial Senate, a piece of what the Republic had become; the Empire.
The Republic had become exactly what it had been fighting against. Shubble had returned to her home in the woods, biting back emotions she knew she had no right to be feeling. She had kept her life, where so many others had fallen. What right did she have to grieve when she was intact and well?
Shubble had been on the roof, trimming the flowering plants that had emerged on it, processing her thoughts, still, just as her masters had taught her. In the back of her mind, she filed away a mental note to meditate later, though she was unsure how much it would really help her. As she was thinking about that fact, she heard a twig snap in the cover of the trees.
Again, Shubble shot her head up towards the sound, fear turning the blood in her veins ice-cold. They’ve found me ran like a mantra through her head, undeterred by her attempts at calming, comforting thoughts. Her shears were gripped so hard in her hands, her knuckles were white. She was afraid the handle might crack.
She blinked in surprise as she looked down at a humanoid figure, shimmering blue against the fog. When they stepped closer, she could see it was their- their hair? Their hair, which was made of glittering, sky-blue fire. It did not seem to burn them, their face clear and unburned. Their eyes matched their hair, outfit containing less eye-catching shades of blue, fading all the way to a near gray.
“Did- Did you just come out of the fog?” Shubble asked, before she could stop herself. There had already been rumors she’d heard of this forest being haunted. Something about souls being claimed by the fog, angry spirits growing restless in the trees. She’d brushed them off as nothing but ghost stories, attempting to ignore how the fog seemed to grow thicker. Though she would totally believe if this was a spirit she’d accidentally angered in her meddling.
“Oh,” They say, glancing back behind them and laughing awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, I did, I guess. My ship, um, it crashed in your forest.”
“Oh!” Shubble exclaimed, jumping to the ground. It wasn’t a long fall, and she could use the Force to control it. She did, without much thought, smiling at the stranger as she landed. “Would you like to come inside?” She looked up towards the sky, and the stranger followed her gaze. Dark clouds were forming over the treetops. She narrowed her eyes at them before turning back to the stranger. “The rain is on its way. You don’t wanna get stuck outside in it, uhm…?” She trailed off, and they gave a small smile.
“Tango. And you are?”
“Shelby.” Her cover name fell from her lips easily. “Or Great Witch Shelby, y’know, for respect and all.” She smiled, rejoicing in Tango’s laughter. It felt so nice to make someone smile again.
Shubble made a gesture towards the house and turned, listening to his soft footsteps behind her. They made their way inside. She led Tango up a couple ladders, into her loft and storage area. As soon as her feet hit the moss-like carpet, she began shuffling through her chests, searching for something simple that didn’t require much prep. Eventually, she came up with a few higher-quality ration packs. She turned and raised it up in her hand with a smile. A rueful smile grew on Tango’s face, a question in his eyes, and Shubble shrugged.
“My cauldron is outside,” she said, by way of explanation, tossing the ration pack to him. He caught it, almost effortlessly, and tore it open.
“Your cauldron,” Tango said, arching an eyebrow. “You’re certainly taking this witch thing very seriously.”
Shubble hummed, opening her own ration pack. “Yep. And this is the best meal we’ve got, cause I’m certainly not making anything out in the rain.” It had started, she could hear it, droplets rhythmically tapping against the roof, one after another. Rain was very common in this forest, she had learned. It came almost everyday, sometimes for hours. Between it and the fog, she had gotten lost multiple times already. It made getting things done quite tough.
Tango shook his head and, after finishing his food, raised his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say, Great Witch Shelby.”
“We’ll go into town tomorrow and get something better,” Shubble promised, balling up her trash and shoving it in her pocket. “As long as we don’t get lost.” She wrinkled her nose and laughed at Tango’s startled glance.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” she assured, grinning. Tango laughed, smiling too. “Come on, there’s a guest room just this way.”
-------------------
The rain had cleared by morning.
Tango, it seemed, had been up long before Shubble. She was still rubbing at her eyes and dragging her feet as she wandered into the sitting room, Tortoise, her astromech, at her heels. Tango was nursing one of her many various drinks, sitting on the couch with his knees pulled up to his chest. There was a book in his hands, resting against his knees, and he smiled when she walked in.
“Morning,” he greeted, and Shubble gave a half-hearted hum in return. Tango chuckled as Shubble grabbed a drink of her own from a cupboard, pulling a book down from one of the shelves.
Shubble sat down at the table, Tango jumping up to join her. Her book remained closed, and she took a sip of her drink, somehow finding it in herself to smile at him across the table.
Tango cocked his head at her drink, gaze flicking between hers and his own. “Y’know,” he said, closing his book, too, and setting it on the table to pick up his glass with both hands. “I didn’t really think about if this was poisoned or not.”
“It’s not,” Shubble said, voice still slightly slurred with sleep. “I promise. It’s a tweaked version of my parents’ recipe.”
“Your parents?” Tango asked gently. Not prodding, just curious.
Shubble hummed. “They ran a bar on Coruscant a long time ago,” she said, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. Her past was not something she spoke about easily. The words felt like they might clog her lungs like smoke. They tasted terrible, and were heavy on her tongue. She sighed, quietly, reminding herself she didn’t have to share details. “I learned some of their tricks before I left.”
Shubble saw a hundred different questions race behind Tango’s ice-blue eyes. “Why’d you leave?” Was the one he asked, voice still soft. Pressing, curious, but soft enough it wasn’t closing in on her.
“Just ‘cause.” She shrugged. “They served some shady people. I wasn’t about to spend my life bartending for organized crime.” Shubble forced a laugh, taking another slow sip of her drink. Her mouth suddenly felt too dry. “I wouldn’t have put it past them for any of their drinks to be poisoned. I’m sure there were a few disappearances of prime customers.”
Tango nodded and hummed, seeming to take great care in considering her answers. “When did you leave?” Tango asked, fingers drumming against the cover of his book. Shubble was beginning to think he was nothing but questions, though he, thankfully, wasn’t being rude about getting any answers.
“A while ago. I was about five, I believe.” Shubble shrugged again, taking in Tango’s incredulous stare.
“Five?” He questioned, as if he couldn’t believe it. “You were learning to bartend for, your words, organized crime, at five?”
“Younger,” Shubble said with a small smile. “All non-alcoholic.”
“Does that make it better?” Tango blinked at her, and Shubble couldn’t laugh at his expression.
“In my conscience it does,” Shubble said, faux-bitterness in her tone. “And it’s come in handy, see Exhibit A.” She pointed to the drink Tango had nearly drained by then, and then, “Exhibit B.” She pointed to her own drink, sitting in front of her, making a final, grand gesture over to her cupboard. “Exhibit C.” After a minute of fighting a smile, Tango broke into laughter, and it only took a moment before Shubble cracked, too, stopping herself from melting into her own fit of laughter. She stifled it, biting back a reprimand at Tortoise's annoyed beep.
Tango controlled his own laughter, looking curiously at Tortoise. He gestured to him, and Shubble smiled again. “His name’s Tortoise,” She said, standing to tuck her glass into the chest of ones she needed to clean.
“Tortoise?” Tango sounded confused, and Shubble only shook her head.
“Don’t ask,” She grumbled, running over to a coat hanger to grab a cloak. “I nearly lost him in the fog when I did. Now c’mon,” She said, ignoring the fact that she could see Tango stifling laughter. He covered the laugh that escaped with a quite convincing cough as he stood and followed her out.
They walked to town in relative silence, the wind filling their ears. Shubble tried, deliberately, to take them the path that did not lead straight into the fog, and somehow, they still ended up right in the middle of it. It was when she saw the gigantic, moss-covered spirit statue that she mumbled a curse, shooting Tango a glare of warning as he rushed again to stifle his laughter. The silence had really begun when Shubble put more of her focus into following the Force, and using it to guide her.
Eventually, they made it to town, but by then the sun was halfway through the sky. Both were hungry, and Tortoise was very annoyed with the long, twisting journey, and particularly pissed about how much mud was now in his wheels. Shubble muttered something angrily at him, pushing open the door to Sausage’s Tavern.
As they walked inside, Shubble heard whispers of a second newcomer? and other confused, curious murmurings. She tried not to pay it much mind, coming right up to the bar and taking a seat on a stool, motioning for Tango to do the same. He did, tentatively, Tortoise rolling up to stand between them, too short to reach a stool or the counter, and too lazy to attempt to reach it by other means.
Sausage, the bartender and owner, smiled when he saw them, finishing the drink he was working on quickly, sliding it down the counter before rushing over to where Tango and Shubble had taken a seat.
“Great Witch Shelby!” Sausage exclaimed in greeting, Tango giving Shubble a look she noticed from the corner of her eye. She smiled, wicked and sarcastic, in his direction. “And another newcomer!” Sausage sounded very excited, watching Tango with an energetic glint in his eye. “We don’t get very many of those around here.”
“Sausage,” Shubble said in return. Beneath the counter, she made a motion only Tango could see, indicating that he could introduce himself, if he wanted.
“Tango,” Tango said with a slight incline of his head. Sausage practically beamed at him, clapping his hands excitedly.
“Nice to meet you, Tango! Now, what can I get you? You’ve certainly had a long journey, from how often Shelby gets lost in there.” Tortoise beeped an affirmation at Sausage’s jest, and Shubble gave each a matching glare in offense. Sausage laughed, and Tango grinned. Shubble fought the urge to kick Tortoise from under the table. She wouldn’t, obviously. Tortoise was shaped like a frog, and frogs were adorable, and nobody in their right mind would kick a frog. But she still sort of wanted to.
“I trust you,” Shubble said with a shrug, after arguing profusely that Sausage himself was the one who told her souls get taken in the fog. Tango had seemed slightly alarmed at that, and Shubble had one small, panicky moment wondering if he’d seen her scythe in a corner back at home. If he had any thought that it might be her taking the souls, he played it off well.
“Sure, why not?” Tango said, watching as Sausage turned, walked away, and set to work.
They got their food a few minutes later, an elegant arrangement of some fruits and other colorful items. It was good, though, and certainly the breakfast- lunch, now, a late lunch at that- that both had needed.
“So,” Sausage said, wiping his hands on a towel before coming closer. “Looking for some new news, Shelby?”
Shubble hummed and took a sip of her drink. “That would be nice,” she said, smiling. “If you have anything to report.”
Sausage grinned conspiratorially. “Actually, I do,” he said. “Though it’s not exactly good news. It never is anymore.” His voice quickly turned somber. Sausage had piqued the interest of Shubble and Tango, both perking up a bit at the thought of learning something new.
“There’s been rumors,” Sausage whispered, “That the Empire is starting to recruit people. The last of those Jedi you asked about.” Tango glanced at Shubble, who kept her gaze fixed on Sausage, not wanting to miss even a piece of what information he might have to offer. “They say they’re going to recruit any Jedi that’ll join them, and train them to hunt down the ones who didn’t.” Sausage shrugged, as though he didn’t believe it. Shubble, though, believed every word. It sounded exactly like something the Empire would do, even from her limited knowledge of it.
The door was kicked open loudly. Shubble and Tango spun around on their stools, taking in the figures. They wore white, full body armor, faces hidden beneath matching helmets. They held blasters in their hands, and Shubble felt her breath hitch in her throat. Those blasters were the same make and model as the ones the Clones used.
Shubble swore under her breath, dropping her gaze, casually- Force, she hoped it was casually- spinning herself back around. Tango followed her lead, crossing his arms over the table. He picked his fork back up and picked at his food, eyes iced over and darting around the room, not leaving a single corner unchecked. Alert.
“Are you in charge here?” One asked Sausage, who had moved a bit to Shubble’s left, giving enough room for the troopers to stand without being in her and Tango’s way. She could feel the cold radiating off their armor, and every part of her felt on edge being so close to them.
“Yes I am!” Sausage said cheerfully. “How may I help you?”
“Have you seen any Jedi around?” The same trooper who had spoken first asked.
If Shubble’s blood had run cold the moment they’d entered, it was ice now, frozen in her veins. As discreetly as she could, she reached for Tango’s sleeve, about to tug on it. He saw her hand move, though, and was already looking at her, eyes searching her face. She mouthed at him we have to go.
He risked another, not quite as discreet glance around, dropping his head further. We should wait, he mouthed back. So they aren’t suspicious. Shubble just barely nodded, trying her hardest to zone back into the conversation.
“-we did have someone ask about Jedi, someone who seems to know a bit about them,” Sausage was saying, still quite upbeat. “The Witch of the Woods. Right here, if you’d like to ask her.”
Shubble felt their eyes on the back of her head, whispering a curse as she looked up. She tried to look afraid, pretending there wasn’t an angry, burning hatred boiling up inside her.
“A witch?” The trooper sounded skeptical, though Shubble if it was of her being a witch, or of her knowing of Jedi.
“The best around,” Shubble said dryly. Tango’s hand was suddenly on her wrist, gripping it tight. Not enough to hurt, but enough she was certainly aware of it. It was a warning. A warning she tried to follow.
“And you know something about the Jedi we’re hunting for?” The trooper asked, sounded impatient and dismissive, as though this were wasting his time.
Shubble shook her head quickly, gently pulling her wrist free of Tango’s grip to grasp his sleeve. “No,” she said, more confidently than she felt. “No, nothing at all.”
Quick as a whip, she pulled a blaster out of her boot and fired. Two shots, right into the chest of the first trooper. He sank to the ground, and before the other could react, Shubble shot him down, too. She shouted a quick, warbled apology to Sausage, taking Tango by the sleeve to pull him up from his chair. Shubble jumped out of hers, too, running towards the door.
They burst through the doors of the tavern. Shubble saw, from the corner of her eye, as the rest of the squad of troopers jumped from where they were standing. She could hear them yelling things, something about finding the Jedi and is there supposed to be two? She was biting back guilt about getting Tango wrapped up in her problems as they ran. Of course, when she’s actually trying to be hospitable, the Empire is going to come and force her to reveal her biggest secret.
She wasn’t sure how she was going to explain herself to Tango, mind preoccupied with her current dilemmas until she heard a shot. It had not been her, and when she looked back, she saw one of their pursers on the muddy ground. Glancing to Tango, she noticed a blaster in his left hand, his right still held by her grip on his sleeve.
Tango looked at her and smiled at her confused stare, shrugging as he turned around to run better. “You looked distracted,” he said. “Someone needed to start getting rid of those guys.”
Shubble stared at him a moment longer, mouth agape, before shaking her head and visibly steeling herself. She led him around a few sharp turns while subtly slowing their speed. When they had made it deep into the fog, Shubble stopped them all together, leaning against a tree. Tango followed her lead, and she passed him a drink from her satchel.
“We’ve lost them enough to rest,” She explained, grabbing her own drink and taking a swig from it. She regretted it a moment later, coughing as the drink mixed poorly with her labored breathing. She composed herself quickly enough, clearing her throat to continue. “We can get to my ship from here, too. If we run into our, uh, pursuers, we’ll just have to shoot them.”
“You have a ship?” Tango asked, sounding pleasantly surprised.
Shubble hummed. “Up and running, too.” She flashed him a grin as she stuffed her drink back in her bag.
Pushing herself up from the tree, she led them along unmarked paths until she stopped, holding some vines to the side with her hands. After motioning for Tango to go inside, she followed, grinning again. “Evermore,” Shubble said, indicating her ship. “It’s good. Don’t worry.”
“Can it outrun the Empire?” Tango asked.
“Yep!” Shubble said, much more cheerfully than she felt, although she was a bit glad about getting to brag about her ship. She started walking towards it, opening up the ramp as she spoke. “If they’re still pretty similar to Republic ships, we’ll be fine.”
She stopped short, closing the ramp behind her. For a moment, she blinked rapidly, then looked puzzledly at Tango before burying her head in her hands. “I’m so sorry about getting you dragged into this,” she said, walking slowly towards the cockpit. “I didn’t mean for anything-”
“It’s fine,” Tango said, cutting her off. She stared at him, and he laughed lightly. “Really, it’s okay. I don’t mind. I could use the excitement, anyway.”
-------------------
Shubble, in all her stupidity, had flown them to Coruscant.
It had been by instinct alone. Always, after any mission, General Soot would have them return to Coruscant to receive new orders. Shubble had been flying Evermore by then, and something about slipping behind the ship’s controls, escaping a battle she had barely begun to fight, Coruscant had called to her.
Security, it seemed, was still getting up and running. Or something had happened previously, and they just got very, very lucky in slipping through the security hole. Shubble managed to slip them past it before she dove towards the lower levels of the planet. They landed, and Shubble heaved a sigh and rested her head on the module in front of her, defeated and somehow still fighting.
She then shot up, running to the closet that was inside the cockpit, shuffling around inside it for a moment. She pulled out a bag of spare parts, and another, much smaller pouch. She started towards the sitting room behind her, hovering in the doorway long enough to wave Tango over. He stood and followed.
They sat in silence for a while, only broken by the clinking of Shubble’s bag of parts and her occasional curses of frustration. But she was, in fact, building something, a cylinder of sorts around a small, glowing, purple crystal.
“Can I see it?” Tango asked, extending his hand across the table. Shubble hesitated only a moment before passing him her less than half made creation and her bag of parts. Tango took his time, turning it around in his hands and looking at it from all different angles. Then: “You’re making a lightsaber.” It was not a question.
“Yes,” Shubble said, feeling lighter even after a single word. “I am. They already know I exist, might as well hook myself up with a better way to defend myself.” She shrugged, and Tango nodded, setting the lightsaber down on the table. He picked pieces out of the bags, comparing their sizes to the lightsaber and seeming to figure out what he could make work.
As he worked, he spoke. “So you are a Jedi?”
“Yes,” Shubble said again, sighing and sinking into the sofa. “I’m sorry to have hid it.”
“No need to be sorry,” Tango said, not glancing up. He was fitting something around the hilt, and Shubble watched, intrigued. “At least I know you’re legit, Great Witch Shelby.”
Shubble barked a short laugh in surprise, resting her head on the table in her arms. “You should’ve known I was legit when you tried my drinks,” She said, grinning. “Only a real witch can make something that good.”
Tango hummed, and they fell back into silence. Shubble didn’t know for how long, letting time slip away. Both jolted upright at the sound of a chiming clock, Shubble turning to look through the open door of the cockpit and through the windshield. From where she was sitting, she couldn’t see the clock that had chimed, but guessed, from how many times it rang, that it was around dinner time.
She turned back, finally zoning back in on the work Tango had done to her lightsaber. It was nearly finished, and she momentarily wondered how he was able to work that fast. She remembered making her first lightsaber, the one she’d broken and abandoned in the Jedi Temple, and how long it had taken her to complete. Days of laboring over the design, fitting it to her tastes and to the tastes of the kyber crystal that would power it. Days of testing and measuring and results that weren’t ever quite perfect. Eventually, she’d simply stopped trying to make it perfect, coming to some sort of understanding that she’d never be able to get it exactly how she wanted.
Somehow, Tango had made exactly what she’d imagined so long before. Shubble stared at it, aghast, as he held it up in his hands. She didn’t quite understand how he had been able to get it so perfect. Shubble knew she was one of those Jedi whose hands were slightly less for creating and slightly more for destroying, and knew that, with that, she would find it hard to convince herself she could build something. Other than drinks and other such concoctions. Tango seemed to be one who was capable of creating anything and everything, only destroying when it was necessary.
“Wow,” She gasped. When she met his eyes, Tango smiled, shrugging and passing the lightsaber to her. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Tango said, shrugging again. “It’s not finished yet, and there might be some adjusting needed, ‘cause I’m not exactly sure how it powers, but-”
“It’s fine.” Shubble spoke over him, feeling her eyes watering. She bit back the tears, dropping her gaze and running her fingers gingerly over the hilt of her lightsaber. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
After a slow breath, she pushed the activation switch. The blade sprung to life in her hand, a deep mulberry, heavy on the purple. It lit the room in its glow, fading to near magenta the further it got. Shubble bathed in its familiar light, fighting the urge to gasp for breath as she grinned at it. The color was home, and Shubble smiled wide. The hilt was a bit heavier than her old one had been, and when she held it properly, the curve of it arched around her hand. The metal of it was cold and visibly mismatched, but Shubble didn’t care about that. It was so nice to have it back. Back and better than ever.
“Thank you,” Shubble said again, helping Tango to gather the remaining spare parts back into the bag. She would use them to finish the hilt on her own, later. Eventually.
Tango grinned at her from across the table.
-------------------
Security had tightened immensely since they’d arrived.
Shubble had tried to fly them out, met only with barricades of the ships she used to fly. Her breath had gotten caught in her throat, and she’d felt her eyes go wide as they landed upon the ships. Tango didn’t ask her what was wrong, or why she’d stopped flying. He gently pried the controls from her rigid hands and guided Evermore back through the crack in the world, deep into the lower levels, right back to where they’d been before.
They’d finished all the rations Shubble had on hand. Their stay on Coruscant had only been a couple days so far, but Shubble didn’t stock her ship for weeks worth of staying on it, expecting in most places that she’d be able to get outside and do something. But the heightened security limited their options.
“We could try and find something here,” Tango suggested, staring out at the darkened sky of Coruscant’s lower levels through the windshield. “There’s got to be something around.”
“Sure,” Shubble said, standing to rummage through the closet. Quickly, she clipped a dark violet cape around herself, tossing a balled up, dark cobalt cloak to Tango. He stood and wrapped it around himself, throwing the hood over his fiery hair. Shubble was almost surprised to see the fabric didn’t burn when he threw the hood over his head.
They walked out of the cockpit, Tortoise rolling close at their heels. Shubble opened the ramp, and they emerged into the uncharacteristically silent underground levels of Coruscant.
Shubble wasn’t sure how long they walked for, ducking their heads and hiding their eyes behind their hoods, sticking as close to each other as possible. Having lived there, both above and below ground, Shubble wasn’t sure she’d be able to find Tango again if she lost him. They walked in silence, even Tortoise, rolling behind them, was unusually quiet.
They eventually stumbled on a small bar, a flashing sign in the window reading Chromia and Open. Shubble pushed the door open, holding it for Tango and Tortoise before she stepped inside behind them.
It was colorful and quiet, very nearly peaceful. The lights were a dim gold, enough to illuminate the room’s bright furnishings comfortably enough that they didn’t become an eyesore. Everything was so nice for its location.
Tango took a seat at a table in a corner, and Shubble followed his lead, helping to boost Tortoise up into the booth beside her. The damn thing could jump, but after how long he spent in silence, he was too annoyed to listen to anything Shubble asked of him. She decided it would be better to just surrender to the droid, if it would at least get him to stay on the side of relative silence.
It was nice to finally have a meal. A real meal. Shubble and Tango made hushed conversation as they ate, short quips about whatever jokes they could think of in the moment.
Shubble left a few credits on the table to pay for their meal, pulling her hood back up before stepping outside. Tango hovered just behind her, and fell into step beside her as they stalked through the alleys.
And came face to face with a blaster.
Both stopped short, Shubble feeling her whole body freeze. Tango recovered faster, hand already hovering over his own blaster, which was half concealed beneath his cloak. In a moment, Shubble had her own hand at her hip, ready to pull her blaster, too.
The person was staring at them, face shadowed by their hat. They wore shades of dark brown, a white button-up beneath a brown vest. Pinned to this vest was a small, golden star. Their blaster was, rather than black, a shining, pristine silver. Shubble didn’t like it one bit.
“Who are you?” Asked the stranger, tilting their head at them. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, and nobody in their right mind wants to be here on a tourism trip.”
“I wonder why,” Tango muttered under his breath. Shubble had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. Then, louder, Tango said, “Why do you need to know?”
“I keep the order around here,” The stranger said, narrowing their eyes. “I’m the sheriff, if you will. Jimmy.”
“Shelby Graces,” Shubble shouted, nudging Tango gently in the side. Maybe introducing themselves would prove to Jimmy they had nothing to hide.
Tango sighed. “Tango Tek,” he said, drumming his fingers against the blaster at his side. He cocked his head, eyes narrowed, watching for Jimmy’s next move.
Jimmy watched them for a minute. It felt like hours, dragging on as they stared each other down in the streets. Shubble was fighting the urge to ask what crime organization Jimmy was a part of, since as far as she was aware, there was no order kept in Coruscant’s underground.
The tension stretched, too, reminding Shubble of the fog back on whatever far-off moon she’d been discovered on. With the way it felt in the Force, it wasn’t that far off, either, the distrust clouding her judgment the same way the fog clouded her sense of direction.
Jimmy looked between them. “You look like the Jedi they spotted a few days ago.” Shubble looked around, suddenly fearful, as she felt what was like the eyes of hundreds of people, boring into her at once. Searching, searing, and Shubble gripped her blaster tight in her hand.
At that moment, she would have rathered her instinct to be wrong, would have rathered that she was already so disconnected from the Force she wasn’t quite aware of her own senses. For a hundred small, green creatures, dressed in similarly bright blue and purple outfits, had their hundred sets of three eyes trained on her and Tango.
“Do I even want to know?” Tango breathed in irritation, Tortoise letting out a surprised beep from behind them, rolling back into Shubble’s calves. She managed to stop herself from wincing, instead looking around at the little creatures surrounding them. Searching them just as they were her.
“Didn’t know the law would have such small enforcers,” Shubble whispered, pulling her blaster from its holster. Tango chuckled behind her, and Shubble heard the click of his blaster’s trigger before she really processed what was happening.
Pandemonium broke out.
Shubble had been in plenty of shoot-outs. Armed with a lightsaber, or against Sepratist droids, which really couldn’t shoot for every circuit in their bodies. Not against a bunch of tiny green creatures holding equally tiny blasters and daggers.
Tango was holding his side pretty well. From the corner of her eye, Shubble could see that he’d set his blaster to stun. She’d done the same with hers, though her shots were hitting much less often. The little things were getting closer, shuffling on their tiny feet and speeding towards them. Even with Tortoise rolling over and stunning the ones that got uncomfortably close, they were losing ground a lot faster than they would be if these were normal sized people. It didn’t help that Jimmy was shooting at them too, and Shubble knew that soon enough, the Empire’s troopers would be among the mix of people coming to kill them in no time flat.
“So annoying,” Shubble muttered, relenting and using her free hand to shove the creatures all into walls, clearing a path enough that she could grab Tango’s sleeve and lead them both into a run. As she moved, she holstered her blaster and pulled her lightsaber out instead, using its’ glow to illuminate their way, and block as many shots as she could. Stun blasts were harder to deflect, and even harder still when she was moving. She was trying desperately not to trip over Tango, or her own feet, or Tortoise who was hot on her heels, using as much speed as he could.
Shubble was certain they hadn’t made it very far by the time the world went black.
-------------------
Shubble knew she was in a Command Ship’s prison block the moment she opened her eyes to see the walls.
She had not spent much time in any of the prison blocks before. The Republic preferred to have its prisoners as close as possible, in facilities scattered throughout the planet. But the prisoners needed a place to stay while being transported, and it had been decided the command ships were the best option.
Dully, she looked around. Her head hurt, the pain shooting up into her skull the moment she turned her head. She groaned in pain, softly, though her cellmate- her cellmate?- looked up, alarm and concern etched into their features.
It was not Tango.
Against her better judgment, she shot up from where she sat, twisting around to inspect the whole cell for a head of now familiar, flaming blue hair. Tango was nowhere to be found.
“Woah,” her cellmate said, now kneeling in front of her. “Relax.” Gently, they rested their hands on her shoulders and pushed her towards the ground, slowly, easing her down. She let them, unable to focus on anything but the pain in her head. She must’ve hit the ground pretty hard. Or those were especially powerful stun blasts.
“Who are you?” She asked hoarsely, shutting her eyes to block out the light. She’d forgotten how white these rooms were . It felt like it was blinding her.
Even with her eyes closed, she did not need to imagine her cellmate speaking. Something about them had been so familiar, even if it wasn’t Tango. Shubble knew them from somewhere, recognized their face, from their curious, warm, green eyes to the scars that ran across their face.
They were the Jedi she’d helped escape.
Shubble forced herself not to sit up again, unwilling to brace herself for more pain. Instead, she listened, turning to rest her cheek against the cold ground, weakly lifting a trembling hand to shield her eyes from the light. “Scar,” He smiled at her. “G.T.W. Scar. Don’t ask what that means.” Shubble laughed quietly, the sound scratching at her throat. “And you are?”
“Shelby. Shubble. Shelby Shubble Graces.” Shubble sighed, using her hand to completely cover her eyes. It was, in that moment, her equivalent of a face palm. “I don’t know.”
Scar laughed, tilting his head back against the wall. He turned it back again to look at her, and said, “They brought you in a couple hours ago, still out cold. Someone will probably come and talk with us in a few minutes.”
“Do they have too?” Shubble whined, turning and burying her head in her arm. “I think this headache is gonna kill me.”
Scar chuckled again, just as there was a subtle click from behind the cell door. Scar’s cheerful attitude vanished from sight, eyes seeming to ice over as they shot to the door. Shubble propped herself onto her elbows, blinking at the suddenness in the change of lighting, biting back another groan of pain. Scar was muttering something about you're not feeling well, don't force yourself, rest- things Shubble was pointedly ignoring as she forced herself up and leaned against the wall.
Vision swimming, she pitched sideways, Scar catching her the moment she moved. His mutterings turned to quiet cursings of Jedi for being so stubborn as he rearranged his arm around her to help support her. Shubble was, somewhere behind the pain, celebrating her triumph.
The door hissed open with a plume of fog. Slightly disoriented, Shubble wondered if she could do that back home. Forgetting that that haunted forest wasn't her home anymore, with its overly thick fog and its constant poor weather and all of its mud. She blinked as Scar settled back against the wall, quitting his fussing to look up at the figure who had entered. Shubble opened her eyes to look, too.
They were draped in all black, and all Shubble could sense of them was darkness. Darkness and death and hatred and anger. Shubble knew immediately that this was a Sith, blood running cold with fear she couldn’t control. Beside her, Scar had gone rigid, staring into the blood-red visor of their mask.
Shubble really wanted to just pass out again. It wouldn’t help her head at all, and she knew that, but she would grit her teeth and deal with pain if it meant delaying whatever this person wanted.
They tilted their head, seeming to look between Shubble and Scar. “Welcome,” they said, voice cold and metallic. “To the Empire. I look forward to working with you.”
-------------------
Shubble knew more things about the Empire’s innerworkings than she really cared to.
She knew the second in command to the Empress was the same Sith who had ordered the capture and recruiting of the remaining Jedi. She knew he was called Darth X. She knew the Empress wanted him to recruit Shubble and Scar as the Empire’s first Inquisitors, Jedi turned Sith who would hunt down the Jedi who refused to come out of hiding. Who would find Force sensitive children, bring them to the Empire the same way the Jedi used to train them. The same thing that Sausage had told her of, back in what felt like months ago.
Shubble did not want to know. Shubble did not want to learn.
Shubble had no choice.
Shubble had also discovered that the Empire had no problem taking hostages. After X’s initial foreboding introduction, he’d revealed to a still quite out-of-it Shubble that Tango was in a bit of danger. She’d come to full awareness after that, forcing herself to stay awake through the pain as she listened to his offer. His offer being that she join the Empire or Tango would die. And most likely, she would with him.
He’d left Scar and Shubble to discuss it, which didn’t really make much sense to her, but she wasn’t about to argue. She’d made her decision already. She made her decision the moment she’d heard Darth X’s metallic voice utter Tango’s name.
Shubble always put her friends first. And most of her friends were dead. So she would do whatever she had to to protect the ones that were living. And currently, that was Tango and Tortoise and Scar. If joining the Empire as one of these Inquisitors would help her to protect them, so be it.
-------------------
Grand Inquisitor Shubble stood on the bridge of her Star Destroyer, overlooking the galaxy as it whizzed by in the window. Tango was beside her, invested in something on a datapad. The First Brother, Scar, was off somewhere with his pilot, Grian.
Shubble was many things.
She was the first and best Inquisitor Darth X had trained. Better than Scar, even, though he was certainly in the running against her. She was talented in the use of the Dark Side. She had good judgment, never escalating a situation beyond her control. She was powerful, experienced. Feared.
Shubble would pay that price tenfold, for her entire life, if she could keep the slightest semblance of peace in her friend's grasp.