Chapter Text
Three days, two speeder trips, and one stasis rifle had brought her to this moment.
She approached the abandoned building, someone’s home once, her boots completely silent in the shifting sand of Tatooine. The structure was a strange combination of sand, mud, and brick with no windows, only holes where windows had once been.
She pulled the old communicator out of her pocket, pulling the mic up near her mouth so she would not be heard.
“Send the droid to the designated drop-off point. Confirm the satisfaction of the buyer and collect payment. I will capture the girl shortly.” She said, voice steady and calm.
She pressed herself low to the ground, letting that same sense of other guide her. Her legs straight, her arms bowed at the shoulders as she opened the leather bag and slowly pulled out the stasis rifle.
A deep breath in, a deep breath out. She needed to be steady.
She placed the butt of the rifle against her chin as she loaded the firing pin of the stasis coil into alignment.
She had to admit it was a good place to hide. The place had been abandoned years ago, right at the turn of the war, and hadn’t seen foot traffic in probably three good decades. Not since some sandy-haired teenager in a robe had come to the place to pay respects to his dad. She hadn’t been paying much of attention.
She still had no idea why someone would turn a slave quarters into an apartment, but her life was easier when she didn’t ask questions.
She eyed the window through the iron sight.
Not yet. It isn’t time for morning meal yet.
The twin suns were still right at the horizon like they were trying to swallow the desert planet whole. It would take her master Toto a good several minutes to deploy the droid. She was counting on it.
She took her binoculars out of the bag and waited. Watched. The breakfast table wasn’t ready, it was empty, the girl hadn’t eaten yet. She hadn’t eaten yet either. Hunger made the senses sharper, highlighted every sensation, made tracking easier. The sight raised an inch on the up breath, and fell an inch on her down breath.
Five minutes later, her watch buzzed. Morning meal. She heard the footsteps, and the same sense that had made her such a good hunter for seven years of her life now told her it was time. Her fingers pressed against the warm transparisteel of the safety. It clicked off. She moved the butt to rest to the right of her right shoulder. Her arm steadied the weapon.
Focus. She thought, and repeated the mantra that had kept her alive since she was eight years old, and had made her the best at what she did. It’s either her, or me.
The moment she saw the girl’s face, she was eerily reminded of another girl. That same shock of brown hair, those pigtails. But that wasn’t possible. They’d been gone for thirty years now.
Inhale. Exhale. Inch up on the up breath. Inch down on the down breath.
The girl placed her bowl as quietly as she could on the table. But she didn’t take the shot yet. She was going to do this right. She was going to be patient. Because that was why she was the best at what she did.
The girl sat down at the old table. The light made her look almost angelic, but maybe that was just her own hunter sharpening the light. There were no angels on Tatooine.
Only demons. Grinning.
The hunter inhaled, raising the body of the rifle just an inch higher, waiting for the moment she knew would come.
And then the girl put the spoon in her mouth, lowering her head to be careful not to spill it, and the hunter seized the opportunity.
The hunter exhaled, putting the iron sight at just the right angle as it came an inch down again. And on the down breath, she pulled the trigger tight. A tiny pulse of blue zapped from the rifle, down the barrel, hurtling through the air at a speed only a mind like hers could comprehend. It pinged against the back of the seven or eight year old’s head, and she dropped like a stone, her head falling into the bowl peacefully.
She placed the rifle on the ground next to her as she rose, silently, to her feet, her steps padded by sand and training to be so silent she could hear the wind moving the sand around them.
She crossed the threshold. She picked up the girl, carrying her like a sack of potatoes over her shoulder, crossed the threshold again, and diligently placed the young girl into the cargo bay of the speeder she’d arrived in. She picked up her rifle off the ground, and re-activated the safety with a flick of her wrist and a bit of magic. She hopped in the driver’s seat.
The journey to the drop-off point took about five minutes. She brought the speeder to a perfectly smooth stop, the girl still sleeping peacefully, and found the six foot hole she’d found the day before. And then, turning the speeder around, she lowered the girl’s sleeping body into it without drawing so much as a snore.
Accelerated cleanly. Ten centimeters per second. One meter per second. Five meters per second as she gained distance.
Within minutes, she knew, the Romeros would arrive to receive the girl for whatever it was they were buying her for, and send payment to Toto.
“And that quality of work,” she praised herself, with no one else to do it for her, “is why I am the best hunter and tracker on Tatooine."