Snippet: Thou Soul of Love and Bravery
Ahsoka’s stomach is rumbling with the anticipation of bad bar food. She grins at something that Taliesin Croft had said before. Anything is better than even good Republic ration paste or sticks.
She curses as the memories well. Up until a few months ago, she had managed to keep her dreams and the memories at bay, as she tried to hide and find her purpose.
They had all come back with a rush after Raada. She had silenced them, or at least suppressed them, by keeping moving. By staying busy in her new job.
As she is about to enter the fine establishment, she hears raised voices. “You’re a damned fool, you old bastard. You owe me money for those spice permits I arranged for you,” comes a deep voice. A large young Chalactan, his clothes a mix of laborer and businessman stares down at a slightly smaller, but much less bulkier human. The Chalactan’s double jewels quiver in his forehead.
“Just because you call yourself the Mayor, doesn’t mean you can boss me around, Asri,” says the older human male.
“Yeah, Showim. You’ve been spending too much time with those free-loading non-Jeweled freaks at their little zoo,” he said.
Something about the name tweaks a memory. Ahsoka shakes her head as her stomach rumbles.
In a quick quarter hour, she is enjoying a large glass of that dark, spicy Mando ale that is a favorite, which does little to quell the fire in her gut. Fire she hasn’t felt in months. She grins as she tears through the plate of nuna wings.
A shadow falls over her table. She allows her expression to grow thunderous as the old fool from the argument sits down. Her eyes widen as she sees his face clearly.
She is transported back to a time when she was eight years old. A much younger, and kindlier version of the face, splints her broken arm after a disagreement with one of the higher tree limbs in the Room of a Thousand Fountains.
She sighs, keeping one hands on her blaster under her left arm. “I’d like to eat in peace,” she says.
“Kind of hard to do with our kind these days,” he says.
“What do you mean, our kind?” she asks.
“Don’t play the innocent with me, girl,” he says, his slightly demented eyes focusing sharply on her. “I have an idea what you are. Kinda fuzzy on who you are. Kinda young for a knight, though. Padawan?”
“Neither. Didn’t get a chance.”
His eyes widen in recognition. “Oh. So you’re that Padawan. Don’t know the full story. Don’t care. You need to march your skinny ass back to your ship and get the hell out of here. There are people here I want to keep safe. An actual functioning Force-sensitive might bring harm on them.”
“Oh, yeah? Don’t know how I could do much more than you, old man. Picking fights with the local government? Good way to stay off the Imps’ sensors.”
“I know you now. I treated you. You were a smartassed little shit who broke her arm falling out of some place she wasn’t supposed to be.”
She grins. “Yeah, well I remember you as a kind doctor who helped me stop crying.”
He slumps. “That healer is dead,” he whispers.
She nods, calming. “I know who you are and what you did. Doesn’t really matter now, does it?”
“Maybe. But there is someone I want you to meet. Someone who might be my salvation, or at least the start of it. Go out to the biggest trees. There is an old YT-1000 parked out there. The person who you’re looking for is there.” He looks down. “She won’t be able to help you that much, though.”
She pays for her meal, swallows the last of her ale. She starts to pull her poncho on to leave, but stops at his voice.
“I lied, young one. You were very sweet and brave. I didn’t have to do much to stop your crying.” He pats her shoulder awkwardly.
She can only nod as she turns away.
After a moment, Garda Showim gets up and walks to the bar. He pockets the medical sample collector. She had felt nothing on the bare skin of her shoulder with the mild anesthetic.“Damned Jedi,” he mutters.
As he passes a table, Mayor Asri’s ears perk up. He smiles a cadaver-like smile. He drops a coin on the table and walks out, pulling his comm out as he does.
