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Vir’tarukh jolted awake, snapping upright before she was halted by the crash harness and forced to lay back again. She could feel mild twinges of pain all over her body as awareness returned. She swiftly assessed herself; she was heavily bruised but, from what she could discern, the injuries she had sustained were trivial. She relaxed, flexing her fingers slowly and carefully, claws scraping over the synleather-covered armrests, and inhaled instinctively; nostrils flaring.

A slew of scents instantly filled her; causing her to cough and cover her mouth and snout, grimacing at the collection of unpleasant odors. Already, she was separating them and easily recognized each facet of the barrage of smells; the crisp tang of flames and the keen stench of melted plasteel. She knew instantly that several parts of the ship were on fire, the young Noghri also could detect that these flames were not large, already she caught a whiff of water and the smell of whatever strange compound was used to extinguish such conflagrations.

Shortly, her sharp ears caught the sizzle of dousing fire. At least this starship’s failsafes and emergency protocols were working properly. Unfortunately, she could not say the same for the engines. They had stopped functioning for no reason and she had been forced out of hyperspace prematurely; in spite of her best efforts, she had crashed on the closest habitable planet her navicom could locate.

Vir’tarukh waited patiently for the last of the procedures to engage, scrutinizing the console closely. She had been trained to pilot this type of vessel and how to work the systems but this type of issue was far out of her knowledge. However, from the readings she could decipher, the danger was past.

Even the irritating alarms that had stopped, thankfully; they had only served to give her a headache. Assured that she had reached surface of this planet safely, she deftly freed herself from her crash harness, rose and turned to her prisoner.

Vir’tarukh knew, with a single glimpse of his form, that he was dead.

A faint wave of annoyance rose inside her. Perhaps, Vir’tarukh mused to herself wryly. Performing beyond expectations was a little too ambitious.

She should not have been surprised her target had not survived the crash; Humans were simply far too fragile.

Except for Ary’ush, of course…

Peering calmly at the cooling corpse, she noted that the man had not died easily; this fact eased some of her frustration. While she was not too familiar with Human expressions she concluded from the contorted features, he had been in agony. The thick rod, a component of the ship though she had no idea what part it could be, protruding from his lower abdomen was all the evidence she needed.

Huffing out the rest of her lingering aggravation, Vir’tarukh slipped around the body and headed to the back of the ship; she knew little of these crafts but she could tell this ship was unlikely to fly again without extensive repairs. In light of this, her goals now would be to assess the world she had found herself to be on, locate the nearest settlement, find transportation off this world and return to Ary’ush in order to complete her assignment.

Her mission had been so very simple; it had been even easier to fulfill.

Recover the stolen plans of the Empire’s most secret project from a man who had been one of the chief scientists. The man had downloaded the plans into a datachip and fled. From what she had learned, he had intended to sell the information to the highest bidder and vanish with his ill-gained wealth somewhere in the Outer Rim. To her people, this man had done the unthinkable; he had betrayed the Empire.

Most of all, he had betrayed Ary’ush; Vir’tarukh, like many of her brethren, had taken his act as a crime of the highest order.

Vir’tarukh felt a sneer twist her features, she detested traitors above all else; they were creatures of no honor and honor was central to the Noghri. Honor revealed the nature and measure of an individual; your honor was your life. If your honor was of no worth, the same was said of you. In her short stint among the peoples of other worlds, she had discovered honor was very lacking. She could not be more grateful that it had been Ary’ush who had found Honoghr and saw their plight. She suspected had it been anyone else; there would have been a very steep price involved for any sliver of aid offered. Ary’ush, in contrast, was loathe to call on them. He only did so on the most extreme of situations. It was because of this, the Noghri were all too eager to answer his summons and any of his assignments were hotly contested among the Clans.

Shaking her head from her musings, the young Noghri recalled the primary objective of her assignment: retrieve the information and eliminate the traitor.

If possible, Ary’ush had added as a casual afterthought, bring the man back to him alive so he might exact proper retribution but Ary’ush had clearly indicated that he would be more than satisfied if Vir’tarukh returned with the datachip and the irrefutable knowledge of the man’s demise.

This had been Vir’tarukh’s first mission; she had won the right to undertake the assignment despite her age and against older, more experienced warriors of the Noghri. Ary’ush had already complimented her on her talents, and she had wanted to impress Ary’ush even further by not only completing the primary goal of the task but also delivering the man to him so that he may have his deserved justice. Sadly, that would be impossible now; she could not revive the dead after all. She did take consolation in the fact Ary’ush would be pleased to hear the man did not find a clean or slow death. Pity, it was not more unpleasant.

While she felt nothing for the scientist’s death, Vir’tarukh did regret the fact she would be unable to present him to Ary’ush. She had wanted so much to please him, and a part of her had really wished to amaze him with her prowess so he would choose to call on her again or, even, be raised to the coveted position of those Ary’ush would summon whenever he needed a Noghri—this had been deemed the highest honor among her people. To be counted among Ary’ush’s few chosen. First and foremost, she wanted this for her Clan but she inwardly admitted that she also truly desired this for herself.

He would certainly be satisfied at least, she thought reassuringly to herself; reaching into her pouch and taking out the datachip with the nearly priceless information. She inspected the tiny rectangle of metal; good, it was undamaged. However, I must ensure I return to him and deliver this. The mission’s deadline is fast approaching!

Coming to the rear, she activated the emergency release of the ramp. The ship had no power, clearly a precaution so it took several long seconds before the durasteel panel finally unlocked, and began moving ponderously; opening her to the world outside. Vir’tarukh was hit instantly by a wave of nearly unbearable heat.

Outwardly, the young Noghri showed no hint of discomfort but she was mentally gritting her teeth; her people had never travelled among the stars so this was entirely new to her. She never imagined a world’s climate could be so… harsh.

Her musings were interrupted when a loud voice came from outside.

“Are you injured?”

Vir’tarukh tilted her head slightly. The tone was male; gruff and hard—unsurprising, this world was not soft or gentle if the heat alone was any sign. From the inflection, she could perceive no danger; he was slightly concerned but, mostly, irritated. Vir’tarukh suspected that her ship crashing here had inconvenienced him. Nonetheless, he was making an effort to be civil. Mostly.

“I am well; however, my companion did not survive!” She returned, straining to let her voice carry. She was grateful that she had mastered Basic as well as she had. This would have been much harder if she could not converse. Then again, it had been one of Ary’ush’s requirements for any Noghri who wished to perform tasks for him off-world…

The voice called back. “Your rear engines are fried; lucky for you your internal systems managed to kill the fire before it got too far! Sorry about your friend, though. Even if he survived, we might not be able to get him to a medcenter in time, you’re far out!” There was a measure of commiseration but it was not too evident. This man had clearly faced death; likely often on this world. Vir’tarukh was quickly developing a degree of respect for this stranger.

Anyone who lived here deserved it.

The ramp hit the ground sooner than normal because of the angle of the ship; the front half-buried in the ground as it was. As it lodged itself, a puff of fine, lightly gold-colored grains were sent flying into the air.

Sand, Vir’tarukh identified swiftly. She had seen sand before back on Honoghr; black and gray and yellow but she had only seen sand when she came close to the shore. Slightly puzzled, she took a slightly deeper sniff; no, she could not smell the sea at all here. And, normally by the time she saw sand; the air would be moist and heavily laced with salt. The air was incredibly dry, and very hot. She had to inhale in measured breaths; wondering if she could burn the insides of her nose off from the sheer heat she felt rising from the ground. She glanced around, wincing at the brightness; the dunes before her seemed to glow in the brilliance of this world’s sun. Her eyes locked onto the form standing near where the ramp rested, half-behind one of the bars that raised or lowered the panel, under the shade of the starship.

He had a weapon. A gun—rifle?—that was nearly as long as him. Fortunately, it was slung over one shoulder but from his stance, the man could easily draw and likely aim the massive rifle with surprising speed and expertise. Certainly not fast enough to aim or even fire before she could reach him but it was still something to take note of.

Vir’tarukh did not react in the slightest, walking down to him purposefully and making sure the man saw she was unarmed—she had stowed her dagger away for now. She highly doubted she would have need of it at the present; the male was clearly not a threat to the degree she would need a weapon; her hands would be enough if he proved to be an enemy. She kept her pace steady but not too fast nor too slow. She saw him remain only mildly tense, ready but not hostile.

She assessed the man instantly. He was Human; slightly stocky and muscular even under the light clothes he wore. From what she knew of Humans, he was nearly middle-aged, but it was hard to tell; his face was worn and aged from more than years, she suspected.

The young Noghri came to a stop once her feet touched the ground, once more steeling herself from the discomfort of burning sand underneath her and nodded politely. “I apologize if I have inconvenienced you.”

The man looked startled before his face cracked into a half-smile. “Actually, you did—more than ‘inconvenienced’ in fact. Not sure if you saw it when you crashed… but you hit one of my Moisture Vaporators.”

Vir’tarukh bowed her head. “If there is a way I might compensate you?” Idly, she noticed how he did not react too greatly to her appearance, likely, he was used to encountering other aliens frequently. Not Noghri, certainly, but a large array of Aliens. The man accepted her appearance too readily to be of the Empire.

This means I am not anywhere near the Core Worlds, she surmised sourly.

The man hummed, rubbing his scruffy chin; the slight anger she could smell hovering around him dissipating slightly. “What kind of currency do you have?”

Instantly, she shook her head. “I do not have much in terms of currency; perhaps, if we sold what we can of my ship? I do not think it will fly and I do not have the expertise or money to have her repaired.”

“And how are you going to get off Tatooine?”

Vir’tarukh instantly latched onto the name. “I will use whatever is left to contact my family.” She said simply. “I am certain that holocalls are not as expensive as new ships or purchase passage off this planet if the credits are enough?”

The man snorted, giving a short, crooked smile. “Yes, that’s true. As long as your call isn’t to points less known. From what I can see, we’ll have enough salvage to get you money for your call at the very least. If your ship has any nice surprises, we might even get enough for passage. It’s a bit expensive getting off this sandball.” He paused and ran his eyes over the hull before looking around them. “Fortunately, you’re just inside my security net so we can take our time picking your ship apart and see what we can sell. But, one of us has to keep an eye out just in case. A crashed ship draws a lot of unwanted attention here.”

“Allow me to handle any uninvited visitors; you have far more knowledge of machines than I, I would wager.” Vir’tarukh offered a faint smile. “I, on the other hand, am far more skilled in protecting myself.”

“Fair enough.” The man eyed her. “Name’s Owen Lars. You?”

“I am Vir’tarukh. Thank you for your aid, Owen Lars. If you would excuse me, I will begin my patrol.” She started forward but was stopped when Owen held up a hand.

“Wait.” He ordered, jogging to a red-painted speeder parked nearby. It was an old, battered model; Vir’tarukh could easily tell but she imagined it was sturdy. Owen Lars would not have chosen a vehicle that was no less tempered than himself. She watched as he fished around a compartment in the back and drew out a pack and a bundle of cloth which he carried to her. He held out the brown wad that Vir’tarukh realized was a plain, thin cloak with a deep hood. She took it and wrapped it over her, it was surprisingly cool and pleasant against her skin though the fabric was slightly rough.

Owen nodded in satisfaction when Vir’tarukh had settled the cloak over herself securely. He then offered the small pack.

“This has some gear; rope, hook, a First Aid Kit and, most importantly, a full canteen of water; use it sparingly.” He instructed briskly. “Finally, take this.” He passed her a small device. “It’s a comlink set to the frequency of my security system and my own unit. It will warn you if you go out of the net and it will let us stay in touch.” He held up his own wrist to show her his comlink. “If you run into any trouble, you tell me immediately. Got it?”

“Yes,” Vir’tarukh nodded curtly. “Anything else I should be aware of?”

Owen was staring at her; his dark eyes piercing. “You don’t seem to be too bothered by heat for an Offworlder and that’s saying something.” There was clear admiration in his voice before the tone hardened. “But the Suns are climbing and hit their worst at noon; you either come back here or you find shade before they do; the comlink has a chronometer, it’s automatically set to warn you when it’s an hour before noon—keep an eye on it. You head back to me when the alarm sounds or you find shade. Only a dead fool stays out during noon here. The Suns ease up two hours after Noon if you want to move around again but, until that time, you stay under cover. Got it?”

Suns? Vir’tarukh quelled the urge to look up and nodded sharply. “I understand.” She strapped on the device and tested the communication line—wincing slightly at the crackle and whine—before tipping her head forward. “I will begin my patrol, Owen Lars.”

“I’ll get to work too,” Owen acknowledged. “I’ll let you know when I’m done; a bit of good luck for you is you landed early enough in the day we have a good amount of time before it hits midday.”

“Then let me leave you to your work.” Vir’tarukh announced, moving steadily away; the heat was scorching but she was Noghri.

She would endure; and excel.

.:. ( .:. | .:. ) .:.

Owen Lars worked quickly, Vir’tarukh discovered and in only five short hours she had received the call to return to the site of the crash. Just a few moments before the alarm trilled that it was an hour before noon.

She had certainly not been idle herself. She had had one encounter with enterprising Jawas—Vir’tarukh was grateful she had not eaten; the stench of these little creatures had turned her stomach and had even caused her to retch after she had driven them off. Fortunately, she hadn’t needed to get close; a clearly threatening display had sent the little cowards scurrying.

The small group of Tusken Raiders took more than a display of aggression but they had been no challenge either. She had only needed to best the clear leader of the band for the others to run.

The greatest obstacle Vir’tarukh had with both Tatooine denizens had been the foul smells they had exuded. Granted, the Jawas were definitely more offensive; the Tuskens weren’t too far behind, however…

Lars had been quick to warn her of the dangers but Vir’tarukh had felt that the man overestimated the creatures a little too much; she refrained from saying so, though. Perhaps, she had clashed with weak examples of their respective races…

It was a moot point, Vir’tarukh decided. She had completed her task and ensured that Lars was left to work in peace. When she arrived, she learned that Owen Lars had apparently been clever enough to sell the larger pieces on the site itself; to neighbors or contacts that had the means to move the massive pieces with ease.

There was nothing left of her ship, Vir’tarukh noted this with renewed admiration; these people wasted nothing. Something her people would respect as they did the very same.

As she approached the spot, she did not fail to notice a small makeshift marker atop a mound.

Evidently, the chief scientist had been given a proper burial. Vir’tarukh suppressed a sneer. Far more than the man deserved but she did commend Lars for his consideration; she would not make any mention of the grave unless he raised it, however.

Owen Lars was in a very good mood, offering a grin as she came close to him. “A very good haul! Wherever you bought that ship; you definitely got your credits’ worth. It was upgraded and had the best components this side of the Outer Rim… probably some in the Core Worlds too so I got a great deal out of what parts we could get!” He explained before sobering. “I earned enough to not only replace my vaporator but for you to get passage off Tatooine to the Core Worlds

and make that holocall if you want. Just to let your family know you’re alright.”

Another point in the Human’s favor, Owen immediately began counting out the earnings and handed her share over without preamble.

“My thanks, Owen Lars.” Vir’tarukh said formally, giving a deep bow after she had taken the wad of credits and secured them on herself. “I am grateful for your aid and your generosity.”

Owen looked startled and slightly uncomfortable before he waved his hand dismissively. “It was obviously an accident. Anyway, I can drive you over to Anc—”

He broke off when his comlink trilled. Glancing down with a look of mild surprise, he held up a palm to her and turned away, lifting the device to his mouth.

“Yes, Beru?”

A distinctly feminine voice came from the device, Vir’tarukh could tell this easily in spite of the fact the device would break into static constantly. {“Owen, Luke’s fussing; you better come home quick!”}

Owen muttered a strange word; from the inflection Vir’tarukh surmised it was a curse. “That kind of ‘fussing’?”

The comlink crackled, Vir’tarukh could just hear a young voice babbling about ‘flying hurting sand’. {“Yes!”}

Owen dropped his wrist and turned. “C’mon!” he called over his shoulder as he sprinted for his speeder.

Bemused, Vir’tarukh raced over and timed it so she jumped into the vehicle just as Owen slid into his seat.

“What is the matter?” she asked calmly; the man was vibrating with tension and there was fear circling him too.

“Sandstorm coming!” Owen growled before he hit the repulsors and the speeder shot forward.

.:. ( .:. | .:. ) .:.

I, Vir’tarukh thought grimly, am beginning to hate sand. It finds its way into everything! And is highly uncomfortable!

She huddled down into the brown cloak, using the sides of the hood to cover her face; beside her, Owen had put on a pair of goggles and had pulled out a spare cloak and thrown it over himself. He was driving with a level of recklessness she found at odds with his normally cautious nature but she did not fault him. All around them, the wind was steadily rising and, with this growing gale, grains of sand were whipping around and into them; scraping at the exposed skin of their bodies or against the fabric of the cloaks like countless little claws.

She had never imagined sand could be dangerous in this manner; she had heard of puddles of wet sand that could swallow and drown but this…

“We’re here!” Owen called over the muted howl. Vir’tarukh risked a swift glance to see the outline of a domed building before they were inside, the door sliding shut behind the speeder as quickly as it had opened.

The silence was very welcome; Vir’tarukh breathed a soft sigh of relief and willed the lingering shriek in her ears to fade.

Owen shut off the speeder with a relieved sigh, yanking off the cloak and bundling it up before setting the wad of fabric on the backseat. “You alright?”

“I will live,” Vir’tarukh said, mimicking him. She could see how much sand was caught up in the folds of the material and assumed that once this sandstorm ended they would carry out the cloaks and shake out the sand outside. No point in bringing it inside the house after all

“Owen!”

The familiar voice Vir’tarukh heard from the comlink called and she looked up to see a Human woman, a few years younger than Owen, appear in a nearby opening. She walked over hurriedly, oblivious to the young Noghri’s presence because of her anxiety.

“Thank goodness I reached you in time! I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner…” she trailed off and blinked in surprise, eyes widening slightly as she finally noticed Vir’tarukh. As with Owen earlier, she looked puzzled. Vir’tarukh knew that the woman was probably mystified over her appearance and that she could not tell exactly what species Vir’tarukh was. Swiftly, this amazement and confusion was replaced by a warm smile.

“Good evening, I’m Beru Lars. I assume you were the passenger on that ship that crashed?” She nodded and held out her hand.

She was certainly warmer than her mate, Vir’tarukh observed. There was no hint of suspicion or hostility in her; however, she noticed underneath this open mien, Beru was wary but not for herself. Clearly, the woman had deemed Vir’tarukh to be trustworthy when it came to Owen and herself but she was still protective…

Ah.

Vir’tarukh recalled the child’s voice she had also heard earlier.

Beru Lars was a mother. She understood well the Human Female’s caution. A Noghri Mother would be as equally vigilant and guarded.

“Yes. I am Vir’tarukh,” she said, taking the hand and giving a firm handshake. Her palm was calloused, clear signs of how hard she worked and her returning handshake was just as firm. The young Noghri inwardly smiled; this woman had a quiet strength—different from her husband but no less strong. She could grow to like the people of this planet, if not the planet itself. “I apologize for the trouble I have caused you.”

Beru smiled brightly. “No trouble! There is some good fortune in this; Owen was meant to go farther out and if he had gone further…” she didn’t need to continue.

Vir’tarukh nodded sharply. “I understand, and I thank you for the hospitality the both of you are giving me.”

“It’s fine,” Owen grunted and strode passed them. “C’mon and we’ll see where we can put you up for the night, we don’t have a lot of space but I’m sure we can work something out… maybe the main room, we’ve got enough spare pillows and blankets…” his voice faded as he vanished deeper into his home.

“This way please.” Beru gestured and her smile did not waver as she guided Vir’tarukh through the very humble abode. While the Lars’ house was very modest; there was an unmistakable sense of peace and security present that for, one very fleeting instant, Vir’tarukh felt a ripple of homesickness. She was still young after all and this was the first time she had ever left Honoghr.

The pair of females entered the main dome of the homestead and Vir’tarukh to caught sight of Owen Lars. The man was grinning broadly in a surprisingly carefree manner.

She spotted the reason why held in his arms.

A tiny child was held up in the air, squealing and laughing brightly. He strained to reach for Owen’s face but the man didn’t quite let him; making it a game of lowering him enough so that the tiny fingers could brush his face before raising him up again.

Clearly, the little boy loved it.

Vir’tarukh stared.

She had never seen a Human child before, especially, not one this close and one so young. She never realized how tiny they could be—he wasn’t much bigger than an average Noghri youngling… and looked far more fragile. But, most of all…

This child was riveting.

Her senses prickled.

His voice was high as was expected of a child barely out of infancy but not painful to her keen ears in the slightest. He was babbling a mix of Basic and another language she did not know—likely, this planet’s native tongue.

“Yes, the bad sand didn’t hurt me,” Owen said, his grin softening into a tender smile. Finishing the game, Owen let the boy touch his face and give him a feathery kiss before he set the child along the crook of his arm and against his side. Belatedly, Owen realized Vir’tarukh was present and he tipped his head slightly towards her, there was a whiff of embarrassment but it was fleeting; he was definitely focused on the child.

The little boy had taken notice of her now, she saw. The bright, so very happy expression shifted to a curious and solemn stare—the expression too old and at odds with such a young child.

He had the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen. They seemed almost luminous in the white lighting overhead. But it was the look he gave her that arrested her.

Penetrating and far too knowing.

Transfixed, Vir’tarukh could only gaze back with equal sobriety. She did not smile; she might frighten the boy after all. Out of the corner of her eye, she just barely discerned how Beru was watching this exchange intently. Owen, as well, was discreetly switching his eyes between the two of them; the familiar assessing expression on his face.

“Luke,” Owen said when the moment stretched between them. “This is Vir’tarukh. She’s visiting.”

Luke beamed suddenly, the almost otherworldly stare vanishing like a mirage. He waved his arms enthusiastically at her and babbled. “Hi! Hi!”

Owen chuckled while Beru laughed softly; moving over to the tiny boy and petting his hair fondly before kissing the top of his forehead. Luke returned her show of affection by kissing her soundly.

“I’ll go finish up preparing the rest of the food so we can have dinner; just give me a few minutes please.” She directed the tail end of her smile at Vir’tarukh before disappearing into what would be the kitchen of the residence.

Owen settled himself into a chair. Luke was clearly a very affectionate child—unless, all Human children were naturally this expressive?—Noghri children were definitely more reserved.

Fascinated, Vir’tarukh watched the duo.

Luke would snuggle close to his sire, giving spontaneous kisses and pats to his cheeks or any part of him the boy could reach. He also chattered away. From what Vir’tarukh could understand; he spoke of many things. Of what he did for the day and the food his A’nt Bru gave him…

Vir’tarukh frowned internally. ‘A’nt Bru’?

She was surprised Luke had not said ‘Mother’, ‘Mommy’, ‘Mama’ or even ‘Ma’ the entire time. She had taken special care to remember the proper titles of ‘Mother’ in Basic after all. She had been surprised how many terms they had but found it to be a delight. Clearly, this showed how well regarded mothers were in the Galaxy.

She rolled the word around until she finally deciphered it: ‘Aunt’ Beru.

This seemed to indicate that Beru Lars was not the child’s mother. Did Owen Lars have another wife? Perhaps, given the harshness of this world; they had polygamous marriages in order to have large hordes of children. Human females were known only to bear one offspring at a time after all—Although, she could not scent any other children aside from Luke or any other women either. From Owen’s obvious age, he should have a small harem of women at this point—

“—‘ow was y’r day, Unca Own?”

Vir’tarukh instantly focused on this; She barely listened to Owen’s reply, once more decoding the title... ‘Uncle’ Owen.

In Basic, ‘Aunt’ meant… ‘the sister of one's father or mother’. While ‘Uncle’ meant ‘the brother of one's father or mother’.

So, if I understood these relations correctly, either Owen or Beru is the sibling of one of Luke’s parents, Vir’tarukh nodded, satisfied she had solved the mystery. So, neither Owen or Beru are Luke’s parents. Well, now that I look at them; Luke does not resemble either of them. His coloring alone is more than enough evidence to point to a different parentage…

Vir’tarukh’s thoughts scattered but easily regrouped when Beru announced dinner; she filed this little fact away for later speculation.

.:. ( .:. | .:. ) .:.

Dinner was delicious; Beru Lars was a gifted cook who could turn simple fare into a little feast. Clearly, she had decided to make a special kind of dish because of Vir’tarukh’s presence. Owen’s surprise and pleasure was clearly visible. The Noghri appreciated the gesture and told her so.

Beru had smiled, blushing. Owen was quick to add his own compliment but Luke won with a loud “YUM! M’RE PlEZ!!” that sent the three adults into laughter.

Vir’tarukh had made the offer to help clean up the table but Beru had shaken her head and said she would manage. She did suggest that Vir’tarukh could help Owen instead.

“I appreciate that you want to help,” Owen said, walking with her back to the living area of the house. “But, I can do it faster alone. If you don’t mind, you can watch Luke for me. He’s good at getting himself into little situations when he’s not being watched.”

“Sounds like our young,” Vir'tarukh murmured.

“Trust me, he can give even your little ones a run for their credits, I’m sure,” Owen gave a lopsided smile. He looked down at Luke who he was carrying. “I’ve got stuff to do, Luke. Stay with Vir’tarukh?”

Luke shifted and held out his little arms toward the Noghri, smiling brightly.

Vir’tarukh blinked. “…” She shot Owen a slightly uncertain look.

“Have you ever carried children before?” The man asked.

“...Yes but only those of my people,” she said slowly. “I am not sure if I…”

“If you don’t want to carry him; I can put him in his pen. You just need to keep an eye on him and stop him from getting lose. Beru and I can’t figure it out but we turn our backs on him and he’s out. No matter how well we seal up the barriers.”

Owen moved over to said child’s pen. Vir’tarukh studied the square-shaped contraption; it looked like a miniature version of the fences her people used to coral their animals. She could understand why little Luke would try to get out. Children did not like to be kept penned.

Seeing Luke’s face fall as Owen neared the closure, she stepped forward and held out her arms. “It is fine. I think I will carry him; we should get acquainted after all. But, do show me how to carry him so I do not hurt him unintentionally.”

“Sure.” Owen shifted Luke expertly and showed her the position of his hands and arms. Vir’tarukh watched intently before nodding and reached over to gently take the child from him.

Luke was definitely softer than any Noghri youngling Vir’tarukh had ever held. And, was assuredly more delicate. But… even as she cradled the tiny body in her arms; she could feel the sheer power within him—vibrating underneath his soft skin and running like lightning onto hers where they made contact. She imagined she could even smell it.

This child… possessed so much power; a power that Vir’tarukh realized abruptly she was familiar with. She had felt such might before… exactly where, she could not tell, the memory was elusive. Unconsciously, she leaned forward to sniff the crown of golden hair—

She straightened when Owen came close and checked her hold on his nephew; making very minor adjustments so the little boy was as comfortable as possible.

He smiled, nodding in his usual brisk manner. “You’re a fast learner.”

“Thank you,” Vir’tarukh said, inwardly berating herself for becoming distracted. “Please see to what needs to be done; I will keep this little one occupied.” She looked to the boy and offered a close-mouthed smile.

Luke giggled and reached up to pat her cheeks.

“Alright, thanks.” The man strode off; he was a man of few words but of much action. Vir’tarukh definitely liked Owen Lars, even if he would likely be considered brusque by most.

Ary’ush was much the same…

A small hand running along her jaw drew her back to the matter at hand.

“So shiny,” Luke chirped at her; looking at her in pure admiration. The child was fearless and so open; she flashed a slightly wider smile to see if he would be frightened by her fangs but the little boy only beamed up at her in return.

“Pretty.” He declared next with all the solemn honesty he could muster. Then the child leaned up and forward, and kissed her right on the snout.

Vir’tarukh blinked; the amount of trust and affection this tiny child was radiating was nearly overwhelming. She had never felt such absolute faith in anyone for her before. A sudden wave of fierce protectiveness and not a small degree of possessiveness rose in her. “You are definitely one of the best reasons why I would enjoy having little ones of my own in the future,” she told him. “If they’re anything like you…” she grinned widely, Luke only laughed and put his little hands over her cheeks. “Then again, if they are like you; they would be too far protected by me and thus not learn to be strong so it’s best if they’re not, don’t you think?”

Luke only sent her another smile then started giving her little hugs and pats; soon, he began to chatter. He was telling her how much he liked her skin and how she looked so nice, that she’s the color of spaceships and he loved them the most because he was going to fly one of them when he could…

Vir’tarukh let the cheerful babble wash over her and let the noise fade to a gentle murmur; this was very pleasant and relaxing. There was a blanket of contentment slowly falling over her; she was truly beginning to see the appeal of having children—

Abruptly, Vir’tarukh realized this emotion wasn’t hers. While she was enjoying this immensely… she was not really this content. Looking down, she realized Luke had begun to doze; a little smile adorning his face.

The child.

The child was sending his emotions to her.

This child was Force-sensitive.

That was the power she had felt; had unknowingly recognized.

This child was just like Ary’ush.

The shock that rolled over her jolted Luke out of his light nap and he looked up at her with a(n absolutely adorable) pout.

“Wa wr’ng?” he mumbled, reaching up to rub his eyes with little fists. “Y’u OK?” the concern was so clear; Vir’tarukh felt her chest constrict.

The young Noghri willed herself to calm. Imperial law dictated that she take this child and deliver him to the Inquisitorius. “I am OK,” she soothed, her thoughts racing.

The very idea of Luke becoming one of those Inquisitors she had observed left a foul taste in her mouth. Far worse than even the stench of the Jawas; this child was too… pure, too bright to be turned into something like those things she had seen. Again, that earlier protectiveness rose in her. She could not!

Yet...

The honor of her people, of her Clan and of herself, commanded her to serve the Empire… but to consign this innocent to a fate as an Inquisitor—

“N't OK!” Luke interrupted her roiling thoughts with surprising vehemence. The child leaned up to fix her with those too knowing, too penetrating blue eyes. “I h’lp make better?”

Vir’tarukh gave a soft, slightly broken little chuckle. “Oh, little one, you are just too good,” she murmured, struggling to regain control. She had to find a solution...

Luke reached up with his little hand and covered her mouth and the lower part of her snout. “I h'lp!” he insisted.

Vir’tarukh inhaled sharply as she felt her pain, her confusion and her conflict ebb—and choked on said air as Luke’s clean scent filled her.

“Oh, wat wr’ng nw?!” Luke whined in clear, petulant confusion.

Vir’tarukh could only stare at him in awed wonder. “Ary’ush!” she breathed.

Luke only gazed back at her in affronted sulkiness and worry. He lifted his chin and crossed his arms over his tiny chest in a rather regal, commanding manner that she recalled his sire would do… it was so easy to see Ary’ush in this tiny one. Now, she knew why he had caught her entirely. The boy was his father’s son. “I make better?”

She quickly reined in her emotions, willing herself to calm and letting the revelation of this child’s heritage settle fully in her mind. It was quicker than she expected but she surmised the child was helping her again.

Luke peered at her silently; his small body relaxing as she did. “All better.” He announced in satisfaction; patting her on the cheek. “OK now?” He beamed encouragingly and she could only answer with a smile of her own.

“Yes, little one, more than better.” Vir’tarukh acknowledged with quiet conviction.

Internally, she was thinking carefully. She needed to know why the son of their savior was on this planet, with these people. Did Ary’ush know of the boy? She doubted it; he would not leave such a precious treasure so woefully unprotected. Ary’ush hid it well but he cared for those who served him and even those who needed to be protected or aided. He was only limited by the Emperor; subject to the man’s whims. A man Virta’rukh secretly did not find at all trustworthy, even if she had never met him and only heard of him from Ary’ush. Ary’ush’s scent would shift subtly whenever he spoke of the Emperor; Vir’tarukh could not decipher exactly in what manner but she did not like it in the slightest. Perhaps, it was Noghir instinct but the Emperor of the Galactic Empire was one entity Vir’tarukh hoped to never meet…

The familiar wave of drowsy contentment pulled her out of her musing. Yes, the most important matter at hand.

The little Ha’ary’ush.

Despite her respect and admiration for Owen Lars and Beru Lars, she would not condone such trespass to Ary’ush. If these two proved they had knowingly stolen his son… Vir’tarukh would ensure they suffered immensely. The chief scientist’s great crime was nothing to the magnitude of this transgression.

“Oh, Luke, you shouldn’t drool on our guest!” Beru gasped with mortification as she appeared from the kitchen; reaching for the little boy who was fast asleep, little head resting on Vir’tarukh’s shoulder… and, indeed, as she looked down, there was a slowly growing trail of saliva on her outfit.

Vir’tarukh only laughed gently, shifting with utmost care and rocking the small child. “It is perfectly alright; it is only natural for children to do this…”

Beru flashed her a warm smile and Vir’tarukh wondered again how such a couple could steal a child… “Thank you, can you help me put him to bed? It is past his bedtime.”

“Certainly, please lead the way.” Vir’tarukh memorized the path; so she knew where to find the child later. Her mind was already formulating various actions. “He is your nephew? I noticed he does not call you ‘mother’ or Owen ‘father’.”

“Yes, he’s the son of Owen’s stepbrother,” Beru answered easily, and more importantly, truthfully. She could not detect any hint of tension or unease. Beru had no fear; so she had nothing she felt she had to hide.

Curiouser and Curiouser.

While it was a promising sign, the young Nohgri would not relax just yet. There were pieces to this puzzle that were still missing. The journey to the child’s room was short and they slipped inside. Beru headed to the platform which obviously served as the bed and reached down to take up the blanket.

“I hope his parents were not caught in the sandstorm; that they were able to find shelter.” Vir’tarukh offered with very real warmth.

Beru paused in unfolding the threadbare sheet she had in her hands. The child’s room was large for his age but Vir’tarukh suspected this would be his room as he grew and when he matured, it would be a little cramped. Already, she had to stand sideways so as not to crowd the Human woman.

Unfitting for the Ha’ary’ush, she thought with a touch of disdain before letting the emotion fade. She would remedy this.

“His parents are dead,” Beru said softly. There was real grief in her quiet tone. “That’s why he’s with us. I often wish they weren’t; they would have loved Luke so much…” There was the faintest hint of a lie in her voice now. Vir’tarukh recognized it instantly for what it truly was and why she did not instantly strike the woman down.

Beru was smitten. She adored Luke and, while she was saddened he was orphaned; she had never been happier raising the child.

Fleetingly, Vir’tarukh felt guilt slice down her spine. She would break Beru’s and, likely even Owen’s, hearts but she had already decided on her course of action.

While the Lars were clearly innocent, it was very evident they had not knowingly stolen Ary’ush’s child; they still had no rights to him whatsoever. Yes, they were raising him as best they could but it was far from what the little Ha’ary’ush deserved. Also, they had already had the gift of raising him for these first couple of years; years that belonged to Ary’ush—it was enough of a boon. The joy Luke had brought them should have been Ary’ush’s.

“I apologize for bringing up such a painful subject but, yes, his parents would cherish him immensely.” She flashed a smile at Beru; moving forward at the woman’s gesture to place little Luke in his equally tiny bed.

This child should be with his father.

As she gently laid the child down and helped Beru tuck the blanket securely around him, Vir’tarukh vowed silently she would will ensure it.

.:. ( .:. | .:. ) .:.

Luke was awake when she came for him.

Owen and Beru were deeply asleep; Vir’tarukh had utilized an old Noghri technique to ensure the couple did not wake until well past noon of the coming day—a concoction of herbs native to Honoghr left burning in their room that would keep them unconscious until the fumes had long disappeared. Satisfied that she would not have to hurt either of them, she crept on soundless feet towards the child’s room. She had debated long on whether to leave a note or not for the Lars and had ultimately decided to leave a simple, typed written message on an old datapad: “He is safe.”

She would not risk leaving any other information.

Ary’ush had far too many enemies, both known and unknown to the Noghri. She could not allow anyone to know of Luke, especially, his connection to Ary’ush. He was far too young and too vulnerable to be exposed to the dangers his father faced.

Luke would be his greatest weakness, she knew.

And, his greatest strength, a part of her added with utmost conviction.

After settling Luke, Beru and she had talked. She had carefully pried all she could of the child. Ary’ush would want to know.

She discovered that the child had been brought to the couple as newborn by a close friend of his father. This friend had been there when Luke’s mother had died giving birth to the boy—living only long enough to name her son.

She had tested the boy’s full name; making a guess at his surname. Calling him ‘Luke Lars’, with a definite question at the end. She had known instantly it was not his name. It jarred against her senses.

As she had hoped, Beru had been quick to correct her.

Luke Skywalker.

This name rang in her veins; in very different ways that the name ‘Darth Vader’ had resonated in her bones when she had heard Ary’ush announce himself before the Noghri. It fit perfectly.

She had said it was a very lovely name; she had meant it. Beru had agreed, smiling.

Vir’tarukh had purposefully kept the couple up as late as possible; tiring them out so they fell asleep quickly after they had retired to bed. It had been no effort at all to slip the slowly burning pot of herbs into the room and close the door. She had waited until she knew the drug had worked before moving towards Luke’s room. She had nearly jumped out of her skin when Luke sat up and chirped a (rather loud) “Hi!” at her.

Force-sensitives, Vir’tarukh thought wryly. “You are definitely your father’s son, little one,” She told the giggling toddler. “He surprises me constantly as well.”

Luke cocked his head sideways, even in the near darkness, she could easily see the brilliant glimmer of those large blue eyes. “Fa’tha?”

“Yes,” Vir’tarukh grinned. “I am taking you to your father.”

Luke pursed his lips. “Go now?”

She nodded and Luke bobbed his head vigorously in agreement. “OK.”

She threw a cloak over the child as she gathered him up into her arms; the chill of the desert had shocked her when she had stepped out earlier to secure the speeder. Space would be colder and she did not want to return the boy to his father sick. She didn’t think Ary’ush would be very impressed by that.

Setting the device with her message on the dining table, Vir’tarukh added a large pile of credits next to the datapad; more than enough to replace the vehicle. She knew that there was no way she could return the speeder to the Lars.

She had kept the Lars from bed by quizzing them thoroughly on how she could get off the planet. It was reassuring to know all she needed was a wad of credits (which she had in abundance) to get off fast and with no questions. Whatever fell short, she could earn via work or request from Ary’ush when she met up with him. He had left a standing order that if Noghri on assignment required any funds; he was to be contacted and he would provide.

If her stash would not suffice to get Luke and her to him; she would barter for passage off the planet to the nearest location and contact him. She knew she could not remain on Tatooine with Luke. She had no wish to face the Lars should they catch up to her. She would not kill them if she could avoid it. So it was best to get off Tatooine.

Luke was babbling happily as always but she had to keep a firm grip on the child when she sat in the speeder. The child seemed to be determined that he drive. Securing him to her lap, she saw that Luke proved to be quite a natural; as he mimicked her driving perfectly… it was both a pity and a relief that his little arms and feet would not reach the wheel and pedals. Luke pouted adorably nearly the entire trip to Mos Eisley when he saw this.

Fortunately, they had no encounters; Vir’tarukh had plotted the course as carefully as possible and they arrived in the city just after dawn. She disposed of the speeder easily enough; finding a buyer who was more than willing to pay the generously low price for no questions asked. She kept Luke hidden while she did the transaction, thankful the child had fallen asleep again. It would be harder to trace her if she was remembered to be alone.

It was even easier getting off the planet.

Vir’tarukh mused that apparently, credits moved the galaxy—or, at least, this part of it. She chose the world where she knew Lord Vader would be stationed and if there was no ship headed there, she would find the closest world. This concern was unnecessary, the mysterious Force Ary’ush followed may be blessing her because there were four ships that were flying for the planet so she had her pick. Naturally, she decided on the safest and most comfortable transport.

She would not subject the little Har’ary’ush to anything less. For this, she hide her own features in robes which seemed common enough, and kept Luke hidden underneath a small cloak of his own; letting any who saw them assume the pair were a mother and her son.

.:. ( .:. | .:. ) .:.

Three days later, they arrived on-planet. Hastily, but with great caution, Vir’tarukh sent a message and an urgent request to meet.

As expected, Ary’ush did not keep her waiting long.

Luke proved to be a treasure and a trial. It was staggering the kind of antics the little toddler could get up to—Owen and Beru were not jesting in the slightest when they said Luke was talented in getting himself into all sorts of situations and all kinds of trouble. Vir’tarukh wondered if this was hereditary… if it was…

A tiny part of her was looking forward to seeing how Ary’ush would handle raising his son. It promised to be very entertaining, very enlightening and very exhausting. Noghri were renowned for their stamina but even she had to admit, little Luke had pushed her to the limits. She had never had such a wish to sleep before.

At first, she had had a bit of an issue slipping around the troops stationed about the base Ary’ush had ordered her to meet him at. Luke was a loud, exuberant child after all.

With a hint of desperation, she had finally convinced him to be quiet by pretending they were playing a game of hide-and-seek. Once she had explained how the game worked, Luke had taken it very seriously and was indeed extremely silent. As good as any Noghri youngling being trained in stealth.

Vir’tarukh was impressed and praised him after they had passed all the soldiers and officers. Luke was delighted, almost preening under the compliments, and was hugging her tightly when she stepped into the Dark Lord’s office.

“Ary’ush,” she greeted with utmost respect and bowed low; Luke laughing as he went down with her. When she straightened, Luke released one hand and waved enthusiastically.

“Hi!” he chirped.

When she looked up, she saw that Darth Vader was staring at her. He stood rigid and poised in front of the massive black desk. He was at the ready, one hand hovering close to his lightsaber. For what reasons exactly, she couldn’t quite tell—was there a danger coming? She inhaled deeply, and only scented his shock. He was utterly stunned; attention riveted on the little boy in her arms.

Did he know? Did the Force already reveal to him who Luke was?

When Ary’ush merely stood there, she acted.

“I have completed the mission, Ary’ush,” Vir’tarukh declared, stepping close as she pulled out the datachip with the stolen plans and held the small square for him to take.

He didn’t stir. Did not even raise a hand to take the object.

Luke was looking back, his head tilted sideways, curious.

“This child…” He rumbled slowly, clearly distracted. “He is incredibly strong in the Force.”

Vir’tarukh smiled and nodded. “It is only to be expected, Ary’ush.”

Vader whipped his head around to stare at her sharply. “What? Why?” There was a dangerous edge to his tone.

Tucking the datachip away since it was clear Ary’ush had no interest in it whatsoever, Vir’tarukh moved forward; shifting Luke so she held the boy out to him. “He is your son, Ary’ush. I found him in the care of your step-brother, Owen Lars, and his wife, Beru Lars. They mistakenly assumed you were dead and have been raising him. I believe you would wish him in your care so I brought him with me.”

Vader froze. If he had been still before; he was completely unmoving now.

Vir’tarukh hoped he hadn’t stopped breathing…

Perhaps, she should have lightened the revelation somehow? She never imagined he would take the discovery of his child so… intensely.

Vir’tarukh felt the study chill drastically; her entire body stiffening as something unseen and so deadly rose all around her. There was a crushing pressure the likes she had never felt before; her keen ears hearing the low crack of breaking transparisteel—the windows behind the desk were developing a massive spiderweb of lines—and there was the low whine of crumpling durasteel—a glance around showed the walls bending inwards and the massive table was crumpling inward…

“I h’lp!” Luke’s cry startled her and she nearly lost her hold on the tiny boy as he held out his arms to the towering form; straining. “It OK!” he called with surprising urgency. “IT OK!” The child repeated louder, staring with unnerving intensity at Ary’ush. “I here. I H’lP!”

There was a strangled noise—a forced intake and Ary’ush closed the short gap; taking the child as Luke instantly wrapped his arms around Ary’ush’s neck, babbling repeatedly. “It OK…! I here! I h’lp! It OK…”

Ary’ush seemed to curl around the tiny form; arms and cape engulfing the little boy and hiding him away. She could see that the massive bulk was trembling; she refused to decipher the noise—it was not a sob—that escaped Ary’ush. Luke’s sweet voice chattered on, comforting, with words in Basic and that harsh Desert Tongue of Tatooine. It seemed to work, Ary’ush’s shaking faded to nearly indiscernible tremors. But there were still noises coming from within the helmet. She willed herself deaf.

Averting her eyes, Vir’tarukh debated to herself if she should withdraw; this moment belonged entirely to Ary’ush and his son.

But she hadn’t given her report or surrendered the datachip yet. Her original mission remained unfinished. Most of all, Ary’ush had not dismissed her. To leave without his command…

“You have performed your task beyond expectations, Vir’tarukh.” Ary’ush’s voice was deep, so very full. She could feel the sheer level of emotions in the flowing bass but could not separate them. “You have returned to me someone I had believed lost; someone priceless. I will hear your full report later; go rest. I feel your fatigue.”

Throat tight, she bowed again; deeper and turned to leave but paused halfway out of the study. “His name, Ary’ush—” she began.

“—is Luke Skywalker.” Ary’ush finished for her, there was a question, a plea, a demand in that short line.

“Yes.” She confirmed and walked onwards; the door sliding aside as she neared.

“Thank you!!” Luke called suddenly. Looking back, Vir’tarukh smiled widely. “You are welcome, little Har’ary’ush.” She returned his wave. “Be good for your father now.”

“OK!” Luke promised with his usual exuberance.

As the door slid shut before her,the last glimpse she had of the pair was Ary’ush leaning down and his quiet words of “Do you know who I am, my little one?” and Luke leaning up to give a very wet kiss to the front of the mask.

“Fatha!”