PS: This chapter may or may not have been edited at two in the morning. Please, have some mercy…

Puberty would be a nightmare.

It was hard enough dealing with his small and disturbingly sweet voice, or the shortness of his limbs and weakness thereof, but having to suffer through hormone spikes and all that came with those? He did not fancy having to go through that period of his life again.

Emiya ran a small hand through his wet mop of grayish hair and let out a sigh.

He had no idea how long it had been since he had last seen himself in a glass. His reflection was foggy, displaying the outline of a child whose appearance had become alien to him. It brought forth a certain nostalgia within his heart, poking at memories that had long since become dead to the ages and buried beneath mounds and mounds of rusted steel.

There were pieces he remembered, however; pieces that were as much a part of him as his now-absent magic, such as the gray of his hair, sleeked back and away like marbled leather that fell over the back of his skull.

Now, with the bangs that hung over his forehead and threatened to cover his eyes, he wasn't sure the small face that stared back through the glass was even his own.

The jawas hadn't had mirrors on their Sandcrawler. Their restrooms were small spaces outfitted with the bare minimum in terms of conveniences – and mirrors hadn't factored in. Not that it had ever bothered him. He had always known how his body was structured and reacted to his whims and thoughts, and that had been enough. Even when he had appeared on this strange and intriguing world, it hadn't taken him too long to figure out the general shape and size of his limbs. It had required some getting used to, that much was a given, but in the end, he couldn't have let something so insignificant take his eyes off the more surreal strangeness of his surroundings.

Thankfully, and as one would expect from an establishment that touted itself asfirst-class– or any self-respecting one, really – there was a mirror nailed to one of the walls of the small bathing area allotted to their rented room. Emiya draped a towel over his shoulders as he leaned over the sink and stared into the blotchy, fogged-up glass.

He ran a hand over the mist, tugged at the skin beneath his eye and stared at the silver of his iris. He wondered why his body had retained the same tones from his older days. If his assumptions were correct, and something had summoned him in the body of a child, why didn't his vessel take on the looks of his younger self, auburn hair and all?

A bundle of gray fell over his eye and he brushed it away. His hair had gotten long— longer than he usually let it grow— and soon he might need to either have it cut, or wear it behind in a short tail. He pictured what it would look like if he ever nurtured a mullet, and quickly swept the idea away. There was only so much he was willing to put himself through.

His eyes followed the lines of his neck as he caressed the edge of his translator, before he clasped it back just below the Adam's apple that would certainly bulge out in a few years.

He finished drying his hair and toweled off the rest of his body.

He put on a change of clothing he had rummaged from his bag; a white tunic and beige pants that reached all the way down to his feet, with broad ends that would fit nicely into his boots. The colors were an antithesis to what he had used to wear; dark reds on blacks and silvers, but he didn't exactly have a choice. Besides, what would the locals think if they saw a boy wearing such flamboyant and eye-catching colors under the scorching suns of Tatooine? An idiot looking for trouble, he figured. An easy target that'd wear its naivety like a cloak.

Emiya shook his head.

He made sure the tub and floor were clean and mopped-up, then threw his dirtied clothes over the hamper by the corner and stepped out of the bath.

The faint light from the ceiling was the first to greet his eyes, and the room smelled faintly of old, aging stone tinged with the fading smell of shampoo and soap.

He found… a bump lying under the sheets of Aola's bed, rising and falling to the rhythm of quiet breathing. He walked up to her and pulled the blanket down until it rested just below her chin. She was sleeping calmly, face relaxed and the edges of her lips slightly curled upwards.

He turned to his bed. The droid was sitting on his pillow, still and quaint.

Emiya picked it up and stared at its eyes, the colors of which slowly alternating between dimmed oranges and dark browns. He gave it a knock, then a shake when the droid did not respond.

He looked around the room before deciding that the windowsill would be as good a spot to leave the flinty head as any.

He walked across and peered through the glass at the avenue far below, lined with distant lights and still dotted with merchants and patrons alike. The faint whisper of the hustle and bustle from the streets nudged his ears and he wondered what sort of activities the people of Hollowport gave themselves to, when the already questionable scrutiny of Czerka was at its lowest.

"Enjoy the view," he said, sliding the ball of steel and electronics up against the glass.

The sheets rustled as Emiya sat on the mattress and tucked his feet under his thighs. He closed one eye and rubbed the sides of his head, all the while staring at the droid from the corner of his open eye.

It wasn't the first time he had seen HK in a similar state. The droid tended to engage its power-saving protocols whenever it was low on energy, and he figured HK's stunt from this morning had taken its toll on the droid.

He was still there, however, only aware enough to respond to critical situations and emergencies. His sensors would be active throughout the night, and Emiya knew he could trust him to keep an eye on the room. Not that he wouldn't be leaving an eye and an ear out himself, but his body was still young and growing, and he wasn't sure his awareness would hold out through the night. There was only so much he could pull through willpower alone.

Emiya turned to his lap and closed both eyes. The night was running short, and he still had his nightly ritual to go through before dropping his head on the pillow.

He lowered his arms onto his lap and let the calm and stillness of the room lull him into relaxation. The lullaby of quiet snoring and the soft noises that drifted through the closed window accompanied the serene breath that came out of his nose.

Meditation was one of those skills he had adopted since his earlier days. The memories of his living were lost to the ages and the forces that had seized his life, but there were a few scraps and indelible stills that were forever etched into his soul.

The picture of a lonely shed came to his mind, of the nights he had spent in tears and sweat, struggling to use even the simplest of magic. There was also a face there, set against a bright moon and unparalleled in its beauty, framed in gold and embedded with deep, vibrant jewels the color of a vibrant forest.

A small frown tugged at his brows when her voice echoed through his mind; remnants of words stringed upon the thread of a solemn vow that had sung the prelude to his quest.

Emiya shook his head. There was no point in reminiscing about old phantoms.

He focused inward and brushed the superfluous thoughts away.

There were many techniques he knew, as far as meditation went. Rituals of the mind and body he had learned at some point during his life. All preached aspects of introspection and favored one path over another, but he had never dedicated himself to a single school in particular. His was a translation of years of observation and assumption, blended with the spiritual tenets and teachings of Kyudo and other eastern martial arts, through which he could sharpen both mind and body, erase doubt and focus solely on his objective.

It was what had given him the edge needed to further understand his magic, and actualize it to levels so far beyond what a normal magus could understand.

Emiya eased out the tension in his limbs. He took in a deep breath, held it in for a few beats, then slowly let it out through his nostrils.

He repeated the process with slow, methodic inhales and exhales over the span of several minutes. Before long, his breathing slowed and a veil of calm and perceived stillness settled over him.

"Trace, on." He murmured.

The picture of a steel rod came to his mind, the air shimmering and sizzling around it as the burning tong pushed itself further down his backbone. He ignored the pain and concentrated until he felt the searing pole slide into place and fuse with his spine.

Emiya let out a single breath when the process was complete. What had used to take him hours, now only required minutes.

He focused on the sheets beneath him, spread over the mattress, itself resting on a steel frame propped up over the stone. Blue lines streaked through the darkness of his closed vision and filled his mind, coursing through the void of his consciousness and sketching an outline of his surroundings.

He saw his pillow through his mind's eye, lined with blue and strewn over a glowing sketch of his sheets. He saw the imperfections in the frame of his bed, every dent and chink of the steel obvious to his magic. He saw the blue-streaked contours of Aola, turning on her bed until her back rested against the mattress.

He focused further, and the lines smeared across the walls and floor like veins throbbing with energy.

The web of glowing blue stretched beyond their room, penetrating the walls and stalking shapes through the dark. He held the image in his mind for a minute before he dropped his focus and let the blueprint recede when his body started heating up.

He kept his eyes closed and breathing steady, careful not to let the burning rod slip out of its socket.

He thought back to a few hours ago, to the various trinkets and knickknacks they had laid over his bed, and chose one. The small marble came to his mind; a round piece of purple-colored glass, its surface blurred and marred by tiny, almost imperceptible scratches and depressions.

He extended a palm before him.

Faint, shimmering light lifted off the skin of his hand as he sharpened the image in his mind. The light took form in a glowing ball of magical energy before settling into the physical replica of the item.

He opened his eyes and stared at the projection. He rolled the ball between his index and his thumb, all the while focusing on its internal structure. Emiya nodded. The outside was a perfect imitation, an identic cover for the hollowness within and produced through visual memory alone.

He directed his magic and channeled his energy through the small trinket, forcing his filtered Od through the gaps and spaces that he grasped, and reinforcing the hollow marble to its limit.

The change was there, although his naked eyes could barely see it. The skin of his fingers stung, straining against the hardened glass that faintly shimmered.

He pushed more of his prana into the marble and reinforced it beyond the norm. The glass vibrated and throbbed in his grip, threatening to burst. He willed it away and the reinforcement receded, ebbing away in motes of light along with the projection.

He let the burning rod slowly slide up and out of his nerves, and shut off the flow of Od.

He closed his fist, then relaxed his grip and slackened his fingers. He repeated the move alongside a suite of breathing exercises and worked out the numbness that had crept up his back.

Structural Grasp, Projection, and Reinforcement. The core mysteries available to Emiya Shirou. He had been able to practice them again ever since he had managed to open an artificial circuit and filter his Od through it – around a week or so ago. His training was nothing out of the ordinary; simply a series of mental and magical exercises through which he conditioned his body to the flow of magic.

He had tried to access Unlimited Blade Works as well, but so far, his ventures had all ended in failure. Even simply thinking of his reality marble was enough to cause minor headaches that rose in intensity the further he probed.

His fingers tightened when he balled a fist and frowned.

The veil obscuring his soul was still there, although he had yet to fully grasp its origin and intent. Even analyzing his body through magic had yielded no results, and the string of inconclusive attempts was starting to weigh on his patience.

He let out a breath and rubbed his temple.

Still, he wasn't ready to give up just yet. If there was one thing at which he excelled, it was perseverance.

Emiya let his arms down onto his lap and closed his eyes.

He opened his lips and released a slow trickle of air.

He went through the process of forging another circuit, and he skidded through the steps with experienced ease.

"I am the bone of my sword."

He waited for several seconds – minutes, even, but nothing. Not even an echo – a reverberation of his inner self – could be perceived.

Failure, again. Trying to invoke his reality marble in his diminished state was a death wish. Yet, so far, over the last seven nights, he hadn't even witnessed the shadow of a success, or the phantom of the pain he knew would be his first indicator of progress.

Emiya let out an exasperated breath. He let his magic circuit fade away before crossing his arms.

What was he missing? What was the thing that kept him from realizing his true potential that even he, with his specialized magic, couldn't grasp?

He had explored both his body and what recesses of his mind he could understand over the past days, and that endeavor had been fruitless. Perhaps there was something he was omitting. Something that could affect his magic circuits and reality marble, not from within, but from without.

His hand cradled his chin as he thought about it. Up until now, he hadn't really tried to interact with the spiritual and magical facet of Tatooine. Back on earth, the ambient mana had been so thin it was almost imperceptible, save for the highly attuned and the gifted. Even those few he had met and who could feel it were practically incapable of harnessing the latent energy of the Earth through their own bodies, often resorting to special artifacts to access and use Mana.

On Tatooine, however, things seemed different. Very different. His nose had picked onto the dusty, earthy scent of the planet rather early on, and that had nothing to do with the sand carried through the wind. Even now, when he scrunched his nose and sniffed the air, he could feel it.

Tatooine was rich in mana, teeming with an energy he could not understand.

And that richness left him perplexed.

Beneath the light, dusty smell of the air, was something far thicker. A feeling of… feral power and dark, broiling emotions. It was like smelling the air of a deep, icy cave, whose darkness concealed the looming sketch of an eldritch enormity that tugged at his sleeve and beckoned him deeper.

It had left him apprehensive the first time he had sensed it, and it still did. He had avoided it to the best of his abilities, lacking any serious means to study it. But now, with what headway he had made into his recovery, he felt as if he could grasp some of its fluttering threads.

And if that was the reason why his reality marble remained inaccessible, he needed to figure it out. If venturing into the unknown was the means to his goal, he would go in with swords bared.

Emiya relaxed once more and regulated his breathing until his heartbeat slowed. He forged another circuit then reached outwards, letting his decades of experience and intuition guide his senses as he felt for the ambient energy.

What felt like hours and several unsuccessful probes later, something nudged his mind – like a coarse scent seeping through a small gap in the wall and tickling his nose. He attuned his perception to it and sensed raw, undiluted power, flowing into and through his surroundings, permeating the air and somehow imbuing everything around him with its unmistakable print, from the walls to the furniture, and even Aola sleeping calmly on her bed, completely oblivious to the aura floating around and through her.

Emiya frowned.

This was too easy. He had expected it to be much harder, to take literal days, perhaps even weeks before his survey bore any fruits. Yet, here he was, feeling the flow of energy around him and witnessing it as if it were the simplest thing to achieve.

One more mystery to heap onto the pile.

He filed his distractions away and focused further, squeezing his nostrils as he honed his sense of smell and sniffed the air.

That overpowering scent was there, easily distinguishable from the staleness of the room and the soft fragrance of cheap soap that wafted off his skin and Aola's.

He focused on it and shut off the rest of his senses, until the pervading darkness and overpowering tang were all he could perceive.

He reached out with his figurative hand, wading through the thick blanket of darkness for what felt like hours until he felt something tug back, shyly, tentatively, as if testing him with slow, deliberate brushes.

He pushed further, and the presence shied away. He continued, unabashed, penetrating the shadows with his fingers until something latched onto his arm.

Emiya froze.

Whatever grabbed him did not.

A distorted wraith emerged from the shadows and inched closer, creeping over his skin and shedding its twilight shroud all around him.

He tried to step back, but the wraith followed. Soon, he found himself enveloped in its cocoon, trapped from all sides in its pernicious tendrils.

"What are you?" Emiya whispered through a clenched jaw.

The blackness shuddered, squirming against his arm like a woman in the throes of pleasure. It settled back after what felt like a second, and slowly stalked its way up his side.

He felt the touch of something soft on his ear, its contact both hot and cold, gentle yet firm.

It murmured something, cooing in a soft melodious voice that left him tantalized.

The darkness coiled around him, hugging the rest of his body in a cloak of gloom.

The voice whispered again, this time more forceful and somber, promising perverse fulfillment and answers to his questions.

Emiya struggled, and the veil around him tightened with his effort. He took a deep, sudden breath and focused on the sheets beneath his physical body and the hard stone pressing against his back.

A silent limb dragged itself around his throat, teasing his skin with the razor ends of invisible blades.

Emiya wheezed and his arms struggled in their shackles.

He pictured the flat of a giant blade gleaming like silver and large like a mountain, gouging away the darkness before it barreled into his side.

His body jerked away and he fell against the mattress.

His hand immediately went to his head as he gritted his teeth against the sudden pain that skewered him from within, and cleaved through his mind. The heated rod in his backbone carved its way through his nerves and sent him down a spiral of sizzling agony.

He could still hear that voice, seductive and insidious in its timbre, cajoling him into letting the darkness take over.

He pushed back against it and let out a single groan, fingers tightening on his scalp.

"E-Em—a?" Someone howled, their face and tone obscured by the veil of benumbing ache.

Something grabbed his shoulders and shook him. The act added to his pain and he tried to push whoever held him away, but his grip was weak and unfocused – his cramped fingers throbbing and refusing to obey.

More sounds entered his ears, though he couldn't make out any words. His mind was a mess of whites and blacks and snowy statics and the pain… it dwarfed everything else.

Dark crimson superseded black as the overpowering presence became even stronger, and his feet dug into the mattress.

A voice spoke to him, filling his ears with a cacophony of noises and grating shrieks. Through the haze, he felt a pair of small limbs tighten around him in a weak, heaving embrace.

He let himself relax into the warmth as he battled the darkness and channeled his focus, and the agony receded and made way for paralyzing numbness after what felt like an eternity.

He struggled to open his eyes and caught a glimpse of blue and purple when the light of the ceiling lamp illuminated his blurred vision.

Aola stared down at him with something akin to confusion and concern. Her lips moved, yet the words blurred through the static.

She held him close for an indiscernible amount of time, before the numbness subsided and his chaos of a mind became a slightly more organized jumble.

Something wet and warm touched his cheek and his finger came up to brush it.

Aola immediately latched onto the digit, "Are you okay?!"

Emiya closed his eyes and let out a breath.

"I'm… fine." He slurred as he struggled to sit up and extricated himself out of the girl's embrace.

She let him go hesitantly, her fingers barely an inch from his shoulder. He took a moment to massage his temples and breathe out the sickening tang that filled his nose. He rolled his tongue in his mouth and let out a sigh when no salty taste assaulted his buds.

When he felt good enough to think through the mess in his head, he turned to Aola.

She was sitting on the edge of his bed, not even an arm's length away, hugging her hands to her chest and staring at him with wide, tear-rimmed eyes.

"You're not okay…" She said. She inched closer and brushed the sleeve of her tunic under his nose.

The gray fabric came away smudged in red. The twi'lek visibly flinched at the sight.

Emiya wiped his nose and stared at his stained fingers. Blood.

"What's going on…" Aola said through the tears trailing down her cheeks. "Are you sick? D-Do you need a—

"I'm fine, Aola. Really." Emiya wiped his bloodstained hand on the bottom of his tunic, then gripped both of her shoulders. "It's the exertion from this morning. I'm just tired; I should be fine after a good night's rest."

Aola sniffled and tried to dam the flow of tears with her sleeves. Some of his blood stained her cheek and she ignored it. "But you were thrashing! It's like you were going through a fit or—

"Must have been a nightmare." Emiya shrugged.

When his words failed to reassure her, he let out a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. If there was one thing that had always left him clueless, it was dealing with sobbing children.

"Look," He lifted her chin and stared deep into her teary eyes, "I was asleep, I had a nightmare, and through the shock, my nose bled a bit from the exhaustion." He pointed to his nose, now dry and only covered in faint traces of drying blood, "See? There is nothing to worry about."

The girl opened her lips but no words came out. After several seconds, she let her head hang and nodded.

"Why don't you go and wash yourself up? " Emiya gave her a small smile and rubbed her shoulder, "You can leave your soiled tunic in the bathroom; I'll clean it up tomorrow."

Aola raised her head with a small frown, "You… aren't going to die, right?"

Emiya tilted his head and stroked his chin. "What was it again? Ah, yes. Bumblefluff."

The girl meekly punched his arm with a pout.

"No," he said, "I think it'll take more than a nosebleed to bring me down."

The frown on her face made way for a small smile. "Promise?"

Emiya nodded, "Promise."

The girl leaned forward and locked him in a tight hug. He sighed and rubbed her back, careful to avoid her lekkus.

She let out a small giggle when she noticed.

"Go on," Emiya said, gently pushing the girl off and shooing her away.

Aola wiped the rest of her tears and nodded. She took to her feet and rummaged a clean shirt from her bag before skittering off to the bathroom. She peered at him one last time through the frame before closing the door behind her.

Emiya eased out a breath and rested his back against the wall. He wiped his nose again, for good measure, and his fingers came away dry.

His head still throbbed from phantom pains, and his back felt like a burning iron had been pressed against it. "What an experience…" He hissed while working his jaw.

"Commentary: An experience, indeed. I think you've managed to wake up half the building."

He turned to the droid sitting by the window and crossed his arms.

"How long—

"Answer: Two long hours have gone by since your body temperature started wildly fluctuating."

"…That long?" Emiya frowned. He hadn't even felt the time pass.

"Query: I have no idea what you were up to, Master, and it is not my place to question, but I will do it anyway," HK's eyes shone bright orange, "What in the blazes of the holy furnace were you up to?"

Emiya stared at the droid in silence. He knew it wasn't the first time HK had noticed the effects of his magic.

"I have no idea," Emiya bluffed, though the answer held a bit of truth, "It's the first time something like this has happened."

"Statement: Really, Master? You think you can fool my sensors?" the droid huffed, "Fine. It's not like I care. I'll let the blue meatbag handle your fits by herself the next time around."

"There won't be a next time," Emiya assured, "Did something happen with Aola?"

"Answer: The meatbag was about to drag you down bodily to the lobby and badger the owner into fetching a med droid. It goes without saying, I put an end to her ridiculous plans." HK thrummed, "Ignoring the fact that such an action would have reduced our meager finances to mere bits and scraps, I was also constantly monitoring your vitals. If your situation had actually gone critical, I would have rolled myself down to the lobby and zapped the owner into submission until he had you cared for and treated. Free of charge and with his compliments, of course."

Emiya shook his head with a small smirk, "I had no idea you cared so much."

"Statement: …I think it is time you went to sleep. Have a good night, oh preposterous master of mine."

Emiya waved his hand and let out a groan when the motion sent him a few jolts of pain, and the droid eventually went back to rest after a few seconds.

He stared down at his hand, at the traces of red streaked across it, and cursed under his breath. He could still hear those faint whispers; insidious and deceptive in their very tone. The contact had taken him by surprise, and his focus had wilted enough for his circuit to riot and send him into the throes of old and familiar pain. His body had not been ready, even if his mind was accustomed to the strain. He'd need to work on that.

Emiya closed his eyes and shook his arm.

The darkness around him felt heavy and pregnant, as if concealing the shadows of a wicked beast. It somewhat reminded him of something from the past, something old and powerful, whose corrupted and blackened minions he had fought and struggled against. The thought had him clench his jaw as a bead of sweat caressed the length of his cheek and his hand closed in a hard fist.

What, or who was that presence that had had him trapped? And why had it felt so familiar?

Emiya let out a heavy sigh and reached for his pillow—

A small, purple light sparked when the tips of his fingers touched the fabric and his hand jerked away.

He stared at the ends of his digits and rubbed the skin with his other hand. There was nothing there, except for the faint traces of pain and the fleeting feeling of something electrical jolting through his skin.

He turned to his pillow with a raised eyebrow and prodded it a few times. Nothing happened.

It must have been the accumulated static, he figured. Or was it something else? Perhaps an aftermath of his tangle with the unknown? Whatever it was, he tried to feel for it, before ultimately deciding to leave it for the morning when his probes proved useless.

With a shrug, Emiya laid himself on his back and rested his head on the pillow. He closed his eyes and worked his lungs, trying to relax.

His fingers brushed against the red stain on his tunic, and he considered taking a trip to the bathroom, but his back wouldn't comply, and his legs were still slightly shaking from the earlier strain.

Emiya pressed further into his pillow and let out a small yawn.

Within a few minutes, his muscles loosened up and sleepiness took over.

What a day…

Red lips eased into a level line when she dropped her smile and leaned back against her seat.

The dark leather creaked as it welcomed her weight, and her black hair cascaded over her shoulder while her slender fingers sifted through the locks.

She flicked her tongue and licked the drop of liquor on her lip, eyes narrowing into slits as she tasted the bittersweet liquid and faced the ceiling.

The silvers and yellows of the moons shone through the window on her side and splayed over the blues and blacks of the lonely cabin. The eerie colors brought her respite and she let out a sigh as she crossed her legs and flattened the wrinkles on her uniform.

"Sneaky little thing…" she whispered.

To think that it would poke the tip of its tail and wag it right before her eyes. She could still feel the tenacity– the strength behind that presence; young and full of life, of potential that begged to be unraveled.

It had taken her by surprise when she had felt it, swimming around in the pools of the Dark Side and probing forces that were way beyond its understanding. She hadn't expected it to make the first move, and she certainly hadn't expected it to be so close, but lo and behold, the little rat was at an arm's reach away, waiting only to be plucked and subjected to her.

She shook her head and ran a hand over her black-silked thigh with a smile that betrayed all of her pleasure.

There had been a… force, there, in its itty-bitty limbs that had called to her; captivated and ensnared her in its trap.

She tightened her fist over the armrest, "I am the huntress, little one, and you are only prey."

She slackened her fingers and stared at her open palm. She pictured it in her grasp, squirming and straining against her hold, struggling in a vain attempt to escape its coming fate.

It was hers for the taking. A beautiful little treat wrapped up nicely and waiting only for her favor to be dispensed.

The woman licked her lips. It would be a challenge, to be sure, but she would never squander the opportunity.

She would claw her way through the sands of Tatooine if she had to, but it would be hers.

"Pilot, give me an E.T.A." She picked up a flute of violet liquid and cradled it between her fingers.

A voice crackled through the intercom, "Fifteen minutes to the tower, Director."

She let out a single sigh then peered through the window. Dunes of sand and monuments of rock and crust zoomed past, quickly replaced by more of the same. The sight alone was enough to crumple her features into a small frown.

Her fingers danced and the glass swayed, the liquid inside sloshing with the motions. Dark orbs stared back when she glanced down at her own rippling reflection and her frown disappeared.

"Soon…" she whispered, the tip of her index circling the rim of the glass. Weeks, already, she had spent on this parched rock, shuttling away from one settlement to the next and stretching her barbed strings into a fine web.

She would have favored a more… direct approach, had she had the means, but alas, they had cautioned patience and deception, and she could only oblige.

"Director, you have a transmission from HQ," the pilot said.

"Patch it through," she ordered, and a faint light descended from a small projector fused to the ceiling.

"Director Cran, I take it?" said a voice on the other end, once the image settled and the features of a young man stared back at her.

Her eyes narrowed, "And who might you be?"

"Advisor Colan Ilvan, Arkanis Sectorial Directorate."

The man had a pair of spectacles resting in front of his eyes, and she barely refrained from scoffing. That one would favor such primitive fashion accessories, in lieu of proper sight augmentation was something she could only expect to find in the decadent Republic.

Still, she straightened her back, "I trust you have a reason to call me so late at night."

"Of course," the man said as he fingered his glasses, "We have been trying to reach you for days. There are some… concerns that we would like to address."

"Concerns?" she raised an eyebrow, "go ahead."

The man nodded before producing a small datapad and flourishing his fingers over the screen, "Evayn Cran, former secretary and right-hand of director Uvoc Masatin. You've been working under his tutelage for close to a decade, and have recently been named as interim manager in the wake of the director's… yet unresolved disappearance."

The woman narrowed her eyes and squeezed the armrest, "Uvoc Masatin has resigned from his position and named me his successor. I believe he has sent you the necessary files."

"He has," the man responded with a tilt of his head, "and the documents are all in order."

The director glared, "you are wasting my time, advisor."

"I simply wish to ascertain a few details, director Cran. We both have nothing but the corporation's best interests in mind," he pushed up his glasses and smiled, "director Masatin has been in charge of the Hollowport sector for years. We find his decision to leave the leadership in your… young and untrained hands questionable and rushed."

The woman waved her hand in dismissal, "what goes on through the good director's head eludes me, Advisor Ilvan. I am as baffled as you are. If you wish to know more, I suggest you find the man and question him yourself."

"That would be the issue, director Cran. We have been unable to locate him. As far as anyone knows, Uvoc Masatin has completely vanished off our scanners."

"And that should be your problem, advisor, not mine," she said, "I trust the Sectorial Directorate can dispatch its own investigators and shed light onto the issue."

The advisor sighed and strummed a single finger on the rim of his datapad, "The process takes time, miss Cran. We were hoping you would have a lead we could trace."

"Entertain my curiosity, advisor," she slightly leaning forward and crossed her fingers over her knee, "Why do you care so much to find Masatin? The man was nearing his sixties, I'd wager he went on some flight of fancy with a young girl eager to spend his fortunes away."

"A man such as Masatin cannot simply up and leave his position, director," the advisor said, "there are regulations; procedures that need to be followed."

"Let me guess," the woman shook her head with a smirk, "You fear he might have taken some of the corporation's secrets and sold them off to the nearest broker?"

The advisor stared back in stern silence.

"A gullible idiot I am not, mister Ilvan," she waved her hand, "I may only be director by interim, but I know the serpentine ways of the trade. I have dealt with my own share of cutthroats and backstabbers, some of which I considered family." And she had given them the same treatment she dispensed on her worst enemies; a blade across the spine and a trip to a jurgoran's den. "Still, I will dispatch my men and have them question the locals. If Masatin was enough of a fool to leave footprints in the sand, we will find him."

Except no one would. She had made sure of it. Uvoc Masatin was but ashes scattered to the wind.

"…The directorate expects nothing less," the advisor said, "perhaps once this unfortunate affair has met a favorable resolution, the board might be encouraged into considering you for a permanent position."

She gave him a long and silent stare. Inside, she huffed. She had no interest in sieging amongst the graying and petty officers of the corporation.

She lifted her glass and took a sip of the liquor, "will that be all?"

The man shook his head, "I am afraid we still require more of your time," he adjusted his glasses before continuing, "It has come to our attention that the Tatoo System has come under a lockdown, and your name pops up as the main lead behind the move. Is there anything the board should be made aware of?"

She heaved her shoulders, "Nothing that would require the directorate's attention. We are dealing with a virulent band of smugglers and pirates. The issue should be resolved within a few weeks."

"And you took it upon yourself to lock the system without going through the proper chain?"

"It was either that or risk endangering Czerka's interests. I trust you understand."

The projected man narrowed his eyes, "have the other corporate representatives agreed to this?"

"The lockdown wouldn't have passed, otherwise. The decision was unanimous."

"And you convinced them to comply?"

"I know how to be… persuasive," she said with a flourish.

The man shook his head, "even with the representatives' approval, such a move could be seen as an infringement on galactic regulations."

"What regulations?" she scoffed, "the Republic is too busy trying to get back on its legs to care for a system on the outer fringes. Or is it the Hutts, of all things? Are you afraid those worms could threaten the company's operations?"

The man glared long and hard before letting out a sigh, "We would ask that you refrain from taking such bold moves in the future. This could possibly attract the ire of other companies and mire our operations in other sectors."

The woman shrugged, "If that will put the directorate at ease, then so be it."

"Very well. I will pass on my reports to the board." He said.

The director waved her hand and took a sip of her drink.

"Onto the final issue…" the advisor took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He produced a small cloth and wiped the lenses before laying them back over the bridge of his nose. "What follows is of the utmost importance. The careers of many, as well as Czerka's good standing with the Republic depend on what I am about to share. I expect your absolute attention."

The woman raised a single brow before she lowered her drink and rested her arms on her lap, "I am all ears."

The man's eyes darted over his screen then turned back to her, "An artifact has been found, not far from the Hollowport outpost. The object couldn't be dated, and its origins are unknown. The team in charge of the excavation has sent us a full report, and one should be waiting in your office, as well. In short, they don't know what the object is and have no idea what to do with it."

"And you want me to piece the puzzle together?"

"That would be redundant," he waved his hand in dismissal, "We've sent the details to our… friends in the republic, and one organization in particular has shown great interest in the object. One of theirs will be visiting Tatooine shortly in order to retrieve it."

The director narrowed her eyes. How far had she fallen, that she'd end up as some middleman for a meddling corporation and their republic friends? "I take it you want me to settle the deal… how much will it cost them?"

"Nothing," he crossed his fingers before him, "They are to receive the artifact completely free of charge. It is meant to be a sign of goodwill from the corporation."

She raised an eyebrow, "Czerka doing charity work. Who could have thought the day would come?"

"This is a matter of great import, miss Cran," the man assured, "The Republic is on its knees. The last war has left many worlds, both from the core and the colonies, in dire need of reconstruction and protection. Unfortunately, Czerka is not the only company out there with its eyes locked on the prize. In order to bolster our standing with the Republic, this… donation must be concluded in the best of terms."

The director waved her hand and let out a sigh, "So I am to babysit this artifact and the envoys who will be coming to fetch it?"

"Absolutely," He nodded, "let them have the item, and treat them like royalty. As far as Czerka and The Republic are concerned, they might as well be. Once the deal is concluded, and The Republic satisfied, the corporation shall award you a… sizable compensation."

She threw her hand in the air, "And who exactly are these marquee envoys?"

The man readjusted his glasses and tilted his head, "Grand Master Nomi Sunrider and her padawan, of the Jedi Order."

She froze.

Oh, how tantalizingly cruel of the Force. To think they would cross paths so soon, that they would be the ones to step into her turf and sift their meddling hands through her finely threaded ploys.

"Director Cran?"

She shook her head and tightened her grip on the armrest, "What… what artifact are they coming for? Why would the Grand Master of the order themselves come to such a remote corner of the galaxy?"

The man lowered his eyes to his datapad, "a… Holocron, it seems."

She shook her head once, then a second time, and her hair showered over half of her face when she shook it a third time. Her arm brushed against the drink beside her, and the liquid splashed a few drops on her pristine uniform.

Was the Force working against her? Was this all one of his ploys, to seize the prize and keep it for himself? Curse him to the tombs of Korriban!

"Director Cran? Is everything in order?"

"I'm…" She shook her head a fourth time and ran a shaking hand through her hair before sitting straight. "I just had a… lapse. It seems the exhaustion from the last few days is catching up on me."

The advisor nodded, "I suggest you take some rest before the meeting. Our guests should arrive within the week. That only leaves you a few days to secure the artifact and have it ready. I trust you understand the importance of this exchange?"

"You don't need to tell me twice, you dolt!" she glared, "I know exactly what needs to be done..."

The man raised an eyebrow and coughed into his hand, "very well. Further details will be sent to your personal terminal. Do the corporation proud and you shall not regret it."

The blue image distorted before the light retracted back to the ceiling.

The director lifted her glass and held it between her fingers.

Yellow clouded her vision and she sent the flute careening through the air before it crashed against the wall.

Weeks. Weeks she had spent setting her plan and stretching her web, only for the Jedi to complicate everything. Couldn't they have stayed in their cozy little fortress, watching the clouds drift and the fish splash over the rivers of Ossus?

Now her plan rested on a thin line, and she would have to limit her moves lest the pesky little peace-lovers put a dent in her carefully crafted scheme.

She scowled. Her jaw tightened and the faint scent of ozone permeated the cabin. Sparks of energy threatened to course through the air and imbue the walls when her anger flared.

Her tooth pricked her lip and red trickled down her chin.

She closed her eyes and let her muscles relax when gray and brown came to her mind. She licked the blood off her skin and savored the salty, coarse taste of it.

First, she would need to secure it. There was no way she'd let the Jedi take her prize away. She would kill it if she had to, and she would kill the Jedi as well if its existence came to light.

The woman let a feral grin stretch across her crimson lips.

"Soon, little one," She cooed, "very soon..."

The haunting hues of purples and reds were still there, clawing and persistent, latching onto her consciousness, unrelenting.

She had thought it all to have become a distant memory, buried under new ones, happier ones, memories filled with the warmth of her new friendship and the sense of belonging and family she had attached to it. She had been happy for a few weeks, drying her tears on her sleeves and smiling in the face of her new friend.

But it couldn't have lasted, could it? This newfound happiness was bound to hurt her as well, wasn't it?

She wasn't stupid. She knew how fragile and weak a life was. She had seen many die or disappear beyond the dunes, adults and children alike, too weak or scared to fend off the threats of the beast-addled desert.

Even those who organized themselves and formed communities weren't immune to it. She should know, she had seen it firsthand; the fire blazing through the stone and steel that lined the walls, screams that brought forth visions of nightmare, and splashes of something warm and thick across her face and limbs when her father had stood before those raiders…

Her nails dug into cloth when her fingers crumpled the fabric over her heart. She angled her face towards the floor and wiped the tears that had started to form.

She brought her hand before her eyes and stared at the blue of her skin. Visions of red streaked across her palm filled her mind, and her breath hitched.

She wasn't gonna lose someone again, was she? Hadn't she already lost enough? Had she been that bad of a child to deserve so much heart-squeezing pain?

"Aola?"

She slowly turned towards him, standing one foot ahead and looking over his shoulder as he ran a card over a scanner and locked the door to their room.

She shook her head and tried to smile, "Yes?"

"Are you alright?" he asked and turned to face her fully, "You've had a nightmare again, haven't you?"

Her ghost of a smile dropped, and her grip tightened over her heart. She shook her head weakly.

"Don't deny it," he stepped closer and laid his hand on her shoulder, "You saw it again, didn't you?"

Aola stilled and her eyes bore into his. Images flashed in front of her face, of fire, blood and the sickening stench of sizzling flesh. She felt something rising from her stomach and she leaned over, one hand cupping her mouth while the other squeezed her stomach.

The boy called her name and stepped closer. He grabbed her shoulder and rubbed her back, "It's okay, just relax. Take a deep breath…"

Aola clenched her eyes shut and forced the bile down, pricking her lip with her tooth when she bit into her own flesh.

She hated this. How could she not? It made her feel weak and hopeless, and that terrified her. She felt the pit in her stomach grow larger, and her hand tightened over her belly.

His hand kept on caressing her back and the gesture brought her comfort. After a few minutes, she stood back and licked the drop of blood on her lip.

"I'm okay," she said, trying her best to smile despite the horrible taste in her mouth.

Emiya cocked his head and perked a brow, "I don't think you should be going out today."

"No!" She burst out, her voice hoarse and cracking, "I-I'm fine… I just…"

How could she leave him alone after what happened the night before? She'd never abandon a friend, no matter how bad her head hurt or her chest ached.

Emiya shook his head. He stepped forward and grabbed her by the shoulders.

Aola froze, "What are—

He laid the back of his hand against her forehead and frowned, "I'm not an expert on twi'lek biology, but I think you're coming down with a fever."

Aola slapped his hand away and stepped back, "I'm not!" she said, "I'm not sick, and even if I was, I wouldn't stay here!"

"Aola," he sighed, "it's for your own good."

"I don't care!" she heaved.

"Calm down," he said, clamping a hand over her shoulder, "I believe you, just… calm down."

She had half a mind to brush his hand away but decided against it. She felt horrible for yelling at him, already, but she couldn't stop herself. Something at the back of her head was gnawing on her nerves, and it made her feel prickly.

"I'm…" her brows furrowed as her hand found purchase on a nearby wall. "I don't want to stay here," she said, "I don't want to be alone… not now."

The boy nodded and gently nudged her arm, "I understand. Let's get you something to eat, then, alright?"

Aola smiled. She wasn't sure she was all that hungry, but she wouldn't say no to a fresh drink. She needed something to wash away the tang in her mouth.

She pushed herself off the wall, leaning against her friend for support until she felt good enough to walk on her own.

They marched down the corridor and took the stairs to the floor below, where the manager was busy stabbing his fingers into his big, round nose and reading something off a datapad in his hands. The lobby was crowded, and the lights of the ceiling were off, leaving only the sunlight seeping through the narrow windows to illuminate the large room.

The buzz of conversation and boisterous laughter filled her ears as they stepped away from the reception and approached the cantina at the back.

It hadn't been very crowded yesterday, when they had first come inside, but today, she didn't think she could swing a porg in the room without hitting someone.

People of every species and size sat at long and small tables pushed up against the walls or spread across the cantina. There was a bar at the center, ring-shaped and manned by two aliens serving the various customers that animated the premise.

"That's a lot of people…" Her friend commented.

Aola frowned as she rubbed her lekkus. She didn't like crowded places. All those people – aliens for the most part, even to her – were scary and looked ready to spring at the first sign of conflict.

Keep your head down and out of their way, her father used to say.

Aola lowered her head and gripped her hood with both hands. She glanced at her friend standing by her side, eyebrow raised as his eyes traveled across the lengths of the cantina.

"I'm not that hungry," she said, "I think we should—

"Nonsense," the boy said, shaking his head, "We won't last for long if we don't get something to eat."

"But—

"Come on," he said, tugging at her sleeve as he stepped forward, "Let's take a seat before all the tables are taken."

Aola acquiesced, following behind him as they made their way through the packed room. She didn't want to ruin his enthusiasm. That's what good friends did, wasn't it? Help each other out and be there for one another…

They passed by a few tables, some of which occupied by the largest and most dangerous-looking people Aola had ever seen.

Some green-skinned aliens with big, gloomy eyes waved their blasters around as they prattled on, feet splayed on their table and glasses of weird-looking juice dancing in their scaly palms.

Aola gripped her hood tighter and averted her eyes. She could hear her heart pounding, somehow louder than the hustle of the crowded cantina, filled with the loud cries and laughter of the patrons whose words and gazes she'd sooner forget.

They chose a small table by the corner, away from the hustle. Aola took the seat farthest away from any prying eyes and huddled herself in a corner. Her friend took the seat opposite of her, with a sideways view of the cantina.

"Observation: Are you sure it is prudent to be here, Master?" HK said, once the boy had dropped him on the table.

Aola wondered why the droid had kept silent the entire morning. She didn't think she'd ever seen him so silent and docile. Not that she minded, of course.

"We're here out of necessity, not choice," Emiya said, arms crossed as he looked around him, "Dangerous or not, we need food. Besides, look around you," he nodded towards the guards standing around the cantina, "I doubt anyone would try their luck in these conditions."

"Commentary: Still, I advise caution. You can never trust a meatbag. Oh, look. That one guard has just dropped his blaster."

Aola turned to the guard when the sound of clattering steel reached her ears, and her eyes widened at the sight of the alien. His shoulders were drooped and his head was bobbing up and down. It wasn't until another guard came up to him and shook him up that the alien woke up and resumed his duty.

Aola shook her head and leaned against her seat. She put a hand over her stomach and scrunched her nose when the smell of grilled foods and mixed drinks became pervasive. She had been so hungry the night before, but now, all she could think about was getting out of the cantina and into the open air.

"Hungry?"

She turned to her friend. She couldn't tell him that, could she? He was willing to waste some of their money just so they could get something nice to eat, even if she wasn't all that hungry anymore.

Aola averted her eyes and gave him a nod.

Her gaze scanned the crowds and stopped on a familiar silhouette moving between the tables and ferrying plates.

"Isn't that…" She pointed a small finger towards the figure.

The boy followed her gaze and nodded.

It was the young woman they had met yesterday, the one who had led them to their room. Aola wasn't sure what to think of her. She wondered how the girl could be working here, in front of all those people without fearing for her life. Weren't young togrutas, too, hunted by slavers?

The girl caught her gaze when she turned in their direction and, after a second of hesitation, waved her hand.

Aola's lips curled into a faint smile as she raised her hand and waved back.

The togruta went back to work and, after a while, came over with an empty tray in her hands and a warm look on her face. "Hey there."

Both Aola and her friend nodded at the newcomer. She didn't know her at all, but the pleasant look on her face told her she could be trusted. If just a little.

"I'm not sure if you remember us," the boy said, "We rented a room yesterday."

"Room sixteen," the togruta nodded, leaning slightly over the table, "Two kids and some sort of droid. That's not exactly a common sight around here."

Aola agreed. They should have kept to their rations and avoided these sorts of scary places. It was just food, anyway. Couldn't they have bought something off the market instead? Maybe her friend didn't know…

The boy shrugged, "Trust me, I'd rather be elsewhere. The name's Emiya, by the way, and this is Aola."

The twi'lek waved when the young woman turned, "Hi."

"Hey sweetie," the waitress gestured back, "I'm Moeni."

Aola smiled. The togruta's eyes lingered on her face before moving to her neck, tracing the contours of her wrapped lekku. Aola pulled at the flaps of her cloak.

"This little scrap ball here is HK," Emiya said.

"Commentary: Do you expect me to greet a meatbag, Master?"

"Be nice," He said, giving him a tap.

"Greeting: Hello, meatbag. I suggest you don't linger too long or you might find yourself unconciou—

His hull rattled on the table when Emiya gave him some applied punishment.

"He's a strange one," Moeni said, a hand on her hip as she smiled at the droid.

"I'm afraid he can't be disciplined," Emiya shrugged.

"Commentary: Oh, but I am very disciplined, Master. I have yet to zap a meatbag, and trust me, the desire is there."

Aola shook her head. She wished HK could be a little bit more like the droids they had had back at the farm.

"Is it always this crowded?" Emiya asked.

"Crowded?" Moeni said, "Today is supposed to be a calm day."

Emiya cocked an eyebrow, "Dare I ask what a busy day looks like?"

"You'd be lucky to find a spot on the floor," The togruta chuckled and waved her hand, "People come from all over the settlement to eat here. The food is that good."

"Is that so?" The boy nodded, "I guess we'll have to give it a try, don't we?" he said and turned to Aola.

The twi'lek nodded.

"What can I get you, then?" Moeni asked.

"I have no idea," Emiya shrugged, "Anything you can recommend?"

The togruta smiled, "I'm guessing you're not exactly high on creds?"

"It's that obvious?" He quipped.

"Well…" the togruta looked away and held the empty tray to her chest.

Emiya shrugged, "We'd like something cheap and filling."

The young woman put a finger to her chin, "There's the breakfast special. It's not exactly the cheapest, but it's the best value for your credits."

"We're not exactly from here, Moeni," he said, "I'm hoping this breakfast special isn't some pot of writhing tentacles?"

The togruta giggled, and Aola shook her head in horror, "We have that, too, if you want."

"No thank you," The boy refused and held an adamant hand, "I'd sooner eat sand."

"I'm sure we could arrange that."

Emiya gave her a look, and Aola giggled. She was liking the togruta already.

"As long as it's edible, we'll have the special. How much is it?"

"For you both?" Moeni tilted her head and leaned closer, "That'll be ten creds."

Aola gasped. Why was it so expensive?! It was almost the cost of a single night's rent!

"That's a bit expensive," Emiya remarked.

"I'm sorry," the togruta said, "But the prices are… well, the owner has a tendency for driving prices up on a whim. Not even a week ago, the same meal wouldn't have cost half that much."

Emiya frowned, "Did something happen?"

"Well, the—

She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a loud voice coming from the bar. It somehow made its way to their corner despite the unruly bustle of the cantina.

"Sorry, I'd love to talk more, but..." Moeni smiled in apology and held the platter against her belly.

"I understand," Emiya said, "We'll take the breakfast special."

The togruta nodded and stepped away in a hurry, her dress fluttering in her wake.

Aola dropped her hands on her lap and leaned against her seat. Moeni looked nice enough. Maybe they could become friends?

Not that she was particularly good at making friends, what with her growing up in a small village where most people were either too old or too young to play with her. She wasn't even sure how to go about befriending her…

She turned to her friend, frowned, then turned back to her lap.

Maybe she could…

Aola groaned. She wasn't sure trying to tackle Moeni to the floor would make for a good introduction.

She heard her friend sigh. He was staring at his palm, rubbing his fingers together with such intensity, Aola thought he was trying to brush his own skin off.

"Query: Something the matter, Master?"

"I don't know what to think," Emiya shook his hand before reaching over to rest his fingers over the droid, "Doesn't Hollowport seem strange to you?"

"Answer: All meatbag settlements look the same to me, Master."

Emiya narrowed his eyes, "I'm not asking for your biased opinion. Don't you think something is amiss? Haven't you sensed anything out of the ordinary?"

Aola turned to him and tilted her head, "What do you mean?"

"Remember when we first came into the settlement?" he asked.

Aola put a finger to her chin, "You mean when we passed the gates?"

Emiya nodded, "Did you notice the lack of security?"

Aola furrowed her brows in thought. She hadn't really noticed anything strange. It wasn't too different from when she had used to come with her father, except, maybe, the fact that they hadn't asked them for any sort of identification chip. Was it really all that strange?

"Observation: Czerka isn't exactly known for its scrutiny as far as its outer-rim operations are concerned, Master."

"You might be right," The boy shrugged, "Still, call it intuition or paranoia, but I have this nagging feeling that something is brooding beneath the sands…"

Aola turned to the hard stone that made up the floor. She gave it a few taps with the soles of her boots, half expecting something evil to burst out.

"Aola," Emiya said, "Has Hollowport always been like this?"

The twi'lek shook her head, "It wasn't this dangerous the last time I… came with dad."

"And when was that?"

"Maybe three months ago?"

"Were there more guards in the streets?"

Aola nodded, "Yes."

"What about the chaos near the entrance, were the outlying districts always such a mess?"

Aola stared down at the table, brows angled in thought. She didn't really remember much, but she knew the streets didn't use to look so dirty and chaotic. Even the thugs like the ones who had attacked them had used to keep to the districts that lay at the back of the outpost, where her father had always cautioned against going.

She shook her head.

Emiya nodded, "Then something must have changed," he frowned as he flexed his fingers and stared at his open palm, "Of course, this could all just be paranoia on my part."

"Observation: Perhaps you are looking too much into this, Master," HK droned, "Perhaps Czerka had to lay off some of its personnel to cover holes in its finances, or perhaps some of its security detail has been dispatched to operations outside of the outpost."

"Both are plausible. Still, it doesn't hurt to be cautious." Emiya crossed his arms.

"Commentary: Of course. Caution is the best of mindsets, Master. Especially when dealing with meatbags," The droid thrummed, "That, and shooting first, naturally."

Emiya let out a breath and shook his head.

"You think something weird is going on?" Aola asked, fingers playing with the hem of her cloak.

"Remember what Moeni said?" the boy asked, "Apparently, something happened a weak or so ago, something that drove the prices up."

Aola nodded, wondering what could have happened.

"Now, whatever happened could have been limited to the inn, or it could have affected the outpost as a whole. We need more information before we start grasping at straws," Emiya cautioned with a raised finger.

"Query: …why would we grasp at straws?" HK asked, and Aola found herself nodding along.

Emiya sighed, "It's a saying. It means to look for problems where there are none."

"Commentary: Meatbags and their turns of phrases." The droid hummed.

The boy drummed his knuckles on HK with a raised eyebrow.

Aola turned to her lap in thought. Maybe something really did happen here. The outpost had gotten more dangerous than she remembered, so perhaps the idea wasn't too far off...

The twi'lek frowned and pulled at the flaps of her cloak. This meant they'd have to be even more cautious than before. If what happened yesterday was any indication, she was sure to attract attention if she wasn't careful enough.

She massaged her temple and caressed her wrapped lekku when her head started to ache.

This also meant she'd have to rely on her friend even further. She wasn't fond of the idea. It made her feel useless, like a dead-weight that'd pull him down and paint a target on his back for slavers and bandits alike.

"Something on your mind?" Emiya asked, and she jerked her head towards him.

"N-no?" She said.

The boy stared into her eyes before shrugging, "Aola, I don't mind if you share your thoughts. I'm not going to bite you."

She frowned when she pictured him nibbling on her lekku, before dismissing the thought. "I…"

"Go ahead," Emiya invited, uncrossing his arms and resting them over his lap, "Speak your mind."

Aola frowned and turned to her lap, again. What was she supposed to say? That she felt weak and useless? That he should leave her here and go about his business? She shook her head. What would he think of her if she said that?

"Observation: I believe the meatbag has realized the limits of her usefulness." HK droned.

"That's not—

She cut herself off before her voice could attract unwanted attention.

"That's not true…" she whispered, eyes boring into her side of the table.

"…Is that what you've been thinking about?" Emiya asked.

Aola inclined her head further and refused to meet his eyes.

Stupid droid! She'd throw him into a bin on the first occasion! Goddess, she had half a mind to pick him apart and sell him to some jawa for pocket change, maybe even weld him to the side of a spaceship and leave him there to gawk at the stars!

…though, maybe that last one was a little too mean. He'd probably turn the people inside mad.

"Look," Emiya rapped his knuckles on his edge of the table, "Aola, look at me."

The girl opened her eyes and met his.

"I have no idea where you've gotten that idea from. You're not useless."

Aola smiled faintly. She didn't know if it was true, but it made her feel good nonetheless.

"Observation: Master, I think you're—

A single, heavy rasp of Emiya's knuckles was enough to silence the droid.

"Don't listen to HK. You know as well as I do how much of a… jerk he can be," Emiya said.

Aola shook her head, "But it's true…"

"What is?" Emiya asked.

"That I'm useless…" the girl said.

"Nonsense. You've led us through Hollowport. We wouldn't have made it here if it wasn't for you."

Was that what she was? Was that all she could do? Guide them through the streets and show them around? Even HK could do that, she thought.

Aola shook her head, "That's not enough. I don't want to be just a guide."

"Then what do you want to do?" Emiya asked, slightly leaning with his elbows onto the table.

"I…" Aola thought about it. What could she do? Cook? Barter? Fight?

"You…" Emiya started, "We are kids, Aola. There isn't much any of us can do at the moment."

"That's not true," Aola shook her head and met his questioning gaze, "You… you're amazing. You can do all sorts of things without asking for anyone's help, you can take on two adults by yourself and keep us safe," She lowered her eyes to the table and gripped the fabric of her pants. "You even k-killed those two…"

She heard the steel of his seat creak when he leaned forward, "…You think I'm amazing because I killed those thugs?"

Aola met his gaze and froze. There was… something in his eyes that made her want to jump under the table and hide away.

She gulped, reaching for her lekku and stroking her tchun.

"There is nothing amazing about murder," he joined his fingers, "Had there been any other way, I'd have seized it. I only did what was necessary in order to… ensure our safety."

He lowered his gaze for a moment, before he spoke again, "That's not something you should look up to. If anything, you should be wary of me. Who says I wouldn't do the same thing to you?"

Aola shook her head vigorously, "You wouldn't!"

"Oh?" he smirked, "Confident, are we?"

"You'd never do that!" Aola insisted, "I've seen you help the jawas, and you took care of me, too. I… I know you'd never do that to someone unless they deserved it…"

Emiya shrugged, "You'd be surprised, Aola. I've been a… jerk for a good portion of my life. I've done things I'm not very proud of, but that's neither here nor there. What I'm trying to say is, don't trust people so easily …your closest friend could end up stabbing you in the back."

Aola leaned away, lips quivering as she stared at her friend. She felt a tear well up in the corner of her eye and brushed it off before he could see it.

Emiya raised his hands and shook his head, "I'm not saying I will. Just… be careful around people, okay? Don't be too quick to offer your trust."

Frustrated and unsure what to think, Aola turned to her lap. Did he really have to say all of that? She'd heard it all before… her mom and dad had told her the same things, before they…

"Shirou," her friend said.

Aola tilted her head and stared at him, "…What?"

"Shirou," Emiya heaved his shoulders, "That's my… name. I want you to call me that."

"Uhm, isn't your name E-Emiya?"

"It is," The boy said, "Both are, in fact. Emiya is my family name, the one I got from my adoptive father. Shirou is… well, let's just say it's been a while since anyone has called me that."

Aola nodded, she had heard his story before, or part of it, at least. "U-uhm…"

"I don't think I've ever heard you call my name. Come on, give it a try." Emiya insisted.

Aola opened her lips, but the words caught in her throat. She closed her mouth and turned to a neighboring table, squeezing her arm for comfort. Why did he want her to call his name all of a sudden? Was this a joke? Was he teasing her again?

"Aola Sun'wesu. If you don't say my name, I'm afraid we can't be friends any longer."

She swiveled her head in distress and blurted, "N-no!".

Emiya shook his head and threw his hands in the air, "No can do. I'm afraid HK here will have to take over."

"Commentary: Yes... I and the blue fleshbag will be the best of friends, Master. She'll be in good hands. I'm sure she'd enjoy a crash course on… meatbag dispatchment."

Aola reeled back, face set in obvious terror.

Emiya made to stand and grabbed his bag before Aola leaned over the table and grasped his sleeve "W-wait! I'll do it!"

The boy turned towards her with a cocked eyebrow, and Aola looked away, before letting go of his tunic and lowering herself back on her seat.

"Sh-Shero—

"No," Emiya planted a hand on the table with a vigorous shake of his head, "Not Shero. Absolutely not."

"Uhm, S-Shirou?"

The boy stared at her long and hard before nodding and motioning for her to continue.

"E-Emiya S-Shirou?" the words almost spilled out of her mouth the way she stuttered.

"Good," he dropped back onto his seat, "See? It wasn't too hard, was it?"

Aola frowned and tried to glare.

Emiya smirked and crossed his arms.

She turned away with a pout.

"I want you to call me by name from now on," the boy said, "If you really think of us as friends, that is."

She didn't know what this was about, but there was one thing she knew for sure: She didn't like being played like this. Not even by her best friend.

"Anyway," Emiya… Shirou said, resting his elbow on the table and laying his chin in the crux of his palm, "I wouldn't advise you compare yourself to me, Aola. We're… different. We've both lived different lives, and experienced different things. I know how to fight because I learned how to out of necessity. Likewise, I'm sure there are things you can do that I wouldn't be able to."

Aola met his gaze and raised her eyebrows, "Really?"

"Really," Shirou shrugged, "You're kind, sweet and spirited. You're willing to put in effort and learn what you don't know, and that's not something many people would be willing to do at your age."

She felt there was a question, there, to be asked, the way he spoke about age, but the warmth that spread through her cheeks had her turn to admire the intricate steelwork of the table, "R-Really?"

"Why would I lie about any of this?" he shrugged.

She hoped he didn't. She had no idea if any of those words he threw at her were true, but she wanted to believe. Besides, that meant she wasn't useless, right? …Or did it?

Maybe she could ask him for help? Maybe he could teach her all those amazing things he knew?

"Uhm…" she twiddled her fingers, "C-could you maybe teach me?"

Emiya raised an eyebrow.

"S-Shirou?"

He let out a sigh and heaved his shoulders, "What would I teach you?"

Everything— she wanted to say, but she knew it wasn't possible.

"Maybe how to fight?" she tried.

He stared at her in silence for a minute or two before closing his eyes and leaning against his seat.

"Why?"

"To help you," She said, almost instantly, and Emiya lifted an eyebrow in response.

"…You want to help me by learning how to fight?"

Aola shook her head and pumped her fists, "Not just how to fight. I want to learn as much as I can!"

He gave her a look she didn't really understand, "…Just to be sure, you're not trying to emulate me, are you?"

Aola tilted her head. Emulate? What did that even mean?

"You're not trying to copy me? To do what I do just because I helped you?"

Well, she wasn't really sure. Maybe she was?

Aola shrugged.

Emiya closed his eyes and drummed his fingers over his arms, "There's nothing wrong with wanting to help. Just… don't let that be your only goal in life. I've seen people lose themselves in the pursuit of their ideals and become shallow copies of their former selves," he leaned back and stared at the ceiling, "chasing an ideal doesn't work for everybody. Don't just live for others, but live for your own sake as well. Else, you might come to regret it…"

Aola turned to her lap and stared at her intertwined fingers. She wasn't sure she understood everything he said, but she thought she got the gist of it.

"You're saying I should learn, not just to help you, but to help myself as well?"

Emiya nodded, "Better yourself for your own sake. Help others only when you can, and steer clear of situations that are out of your league. If we're clear on that, then I'm willing to teach you whatever I can."

A rare smile bloomed on Aola's face, sparkling with elation. She pumped her fists enthusiastically and nodded.

She may be useless now, but it wouldn't last. She'd make sure of it.

"But for now…" Emiya turned to the side and uncrossed his arms, "We should focus on putting some meat on our bones."

"Two breakfast specials!" Moeni lowered bowls half full of something that looked vaguely like gruel before the two of them. It was accompanied by a side dish of… well, dried tentacles and small balls of varying colors and sizes.

Aola wasn't sure she'd ever had a meal like this. It looked too… plain for something that cost so much.

"Is this…" Shirou raised an eyebrow as he stirred the gruel with his spoon.

"Hmm?" Moeni held her empty tray to her chest and stared at them with a smile, "Go on, dig in. It tastes better than it looks!"

"Commentary: Master, I think you should not…" HK paused, "actually, you have my approval. I have a feeling you've never tasted anything quite like this."

"Well…" Shirou looked to Aola with an inviting shrug, "Ladies first?"

Flavored water.

They had paid ten credits for flavored water and a side of rubbery dessert.

Emiya wasn't yet sure what was worse. That the supposedly dried tentacles had writhed when he had reached for one, or that he could have sworn he had seen something black and hairy swimming in his gruel.

He was still trying to get the taste off, rolling his tongue in his mouth and spitting out what chunks of somethings were still stuck between his teeth. He had already wasted a good portion of his canteen trying to wash down the horrible tang, yet, despite his best efforts, his tongue still stung from whatever spice they had thrown into the food.

Aola was doing much better, however. He was still divided on whether he should chalk it up to differing biology or simply a question of habit and experience, but the girl didn't seem to have been bothered by the taste at all. If anything, she looked radiant.

Emiya let out a sigh. He'd never eat at that place again. Not without some serious incentive.

He turned to the twi'lek strutting beside him, humming along as she eyed the many stalls and stores interspersed throughout the mercantile district.

She had a spring to her steps and a pleased smile across her lips. Her excitement had spiked up ever since he had promised to give her some tutoring, and he was starting to feel it might have been a poorly thought idea.

He wasn't against giving her some insights into self-defense and peace of mind, but he had a feeling she was looking for more than that. Eager pupils tended to take things too far.

Would he be a good teacher? Would she be able to go through whatever training he could cook up? He wasn't so sure…

"Observation: Meatbags to the left, meatbags to the right. Master, my trigger finger is itching for some action."

"You have no fingers, HK," Emiya eyed the droid under his arm.

"Query: And whose fault do you think that is, Master?"

"A nasty little droid who's got scraps for brains," Emiya shrugged, "Who was it that refused to be outfitted with spare parts?"

"Answer: You mean old, rusted parts with cables peeking through every possible hole? I'd rather live the rest of my droid life as a ball of scrap, thank you."

"See?" Emiya threw his hand in the air, "If you could only tone down your ego and accept perfectly usable pieces, you'd be on your own two feet in the blink of an eye. Hell, we could even give you four."

"Statement: I refuse anything that doesn't have Czerka's pristine stamp on it," HK said, "And what aberration are you thinking up in that tanned head of yours? Four legs? What's next, six arms?"

Emiya smirked and brushed away some of the hair that fell over his eye, "I was thinking you wouldn't look too bad with a tail and some cat ears," he took the droid and put him away in the bag slung over his shoulder, "And a little, pink bow to show off how cute you are."

HK's eyes lit up in bright yellows, "Query: Is this revenge for what happened in the cantina? Can I look for a new master, still?"

Emiya shook his head and threw the cover of his satchel over the droid.

He would have to give HK some proper outfitting, but he had yet to find parts compatible with his build. As far as he had looked, there were no components for HK-47 models in any of the places he had scoured.

"Ah!" Aola exclaimed from beside him and skipped over to a small shop sandwiched between a larger building and a cluster of stalls. At first sight, it looked like an igloo-like dwelling made of stone and crisscrossed with steel and faintly glowing lights.

It had a large window that spammed the entirety of its front, and probably the back, too, if he bothered to check.

He followed behind the twi'lek, keeping an eye on her and the cavalcade of people they passed.

The market was relatively safe, compared to the chaos of the earlier districts. It was different from the central plaza and the long avenue that ran through it, and while those had their fair share of street shops and establishments catering to various needs, the marketplace had larger, more specialized stores, some even carrying brands supposedly from off-world. If one wanted to buy a good weapon or purchase some supplies, chances were they'd find all they'd need around here. He wasn't sure how accurate the information Aola and HK gave him, but it was all he had to work with.

Unsurprisingly enough, Czerka had even less of a presence here, completely leaving the policing of the district to what he could see of the various mercenaries and hired grunts that watched over the businesses, and provided enough of a deterrent to keep the more… emboldened locals from trying anything untoward.

He and the girl would be safe. As long as they kept to the main venue and didn't stray too far into the less savory parts of the marketplace.

Oh, he had seen some trails that led to some rather shady corners of the district, where hunched figures lurked in the shadows and eyed the passersby with intent. There had also been some unsavory signs hung up here and there, but those had been subtle enough that only individuals who could see through the bold, colorful letters and blinking shapes would understand their purpose. He couldn't read any of them, mind you, but he had a feeling he knew what sort of businesses those advertised.

They came to a stop before the blotchy glass panel that encompassed most of the domed storefront.

Aola put her hands to the window and leaned closer. She let out a sigh as she stared at a small mannequin displaying some sort of head accessory. It looked like a headband cut from leather, lined with silver and set with a small amber stone where the band dipped over the forehead.

Emiya's eyes stopped on the small screen just below the mannequin.

"Well…" he started, "This isn't cheap."

Aola nodded, "That's a Jookan jewel."

"Huh," Emiya hummed. The amber stone wasn't the prettiest gem he had ever laid eyes on, but there was a certain charm to it. When he narrowed his eyes and leaned closer, he noticed… something swimming inside, like tiny, orange petals floating in a pool of faded crimson.

He wondered what it would look like under his structural analysis.

"Dad said these stones were first discovered by twi'lek settlers," Aola said, "They used to mine them and sell them to the jawas, before Czerka bought the mines and started shipping the stones off-world."

Emiya turned to the twi'lek. She had her head pressed against the glass, staring longingly at the accessory.

"They used to make headbands and bracelets out of them, back in my village. Every kid got one once they were old enough."

"A coming-of-age gift?" Emiya asked.

Aola nodded, "Mom had a headband just like this one."

"I see…"

Her desire was left unspoken, yet fairly easy to decipher. His hand found itself resting over his pocket, and his fingers traced the edges of the credit chips stored inside. The headband was out of their league, however. Three hundred credits was too large of a sum for their meager savings.

His eyes moved to the items lining the shelves. There was a small display in one of the corners, featuring a short, blinking message in basic. He had yet to learn the written language, besides what limited words he had been taught by Javii, but some of the runes were common enough for even him to make sense of, such as Sale or Pawn.

"Come on," Emiya nudged Aola and strode towards the entrance, "let's check inside."

She acquiesced, tracing the glass with her fingers and only taking her eyes off the headband once they had stepped through the sliding door.

The way into the shop proper was through a small tunnel that swerved downwards. Ceiling-set lights lit up the bending path, casting a dim, neutral tone over the dusty steps. After going down what felt like a floor or two, the passage eventually emerged into a large room filled to the brim with curios and parts, where the air was chill and the floor carpeted.

"Commentary: Keep your eyes peeled, Master," HK whispered, "We might find some adequate parts in here—

"Welcome to Goog's Emporium!" Announced an enthusiastic droid stood behind a counter at the back of the room. Its voice carried easily through the air, accentuated by the excited movements of its metallic hands and bright, golden eyes, "Whatever you're looking for, we have it! If we don't, we will!"

"Commentary: Not one of those…"

Emiya stood still and ignored the waving droid as he eyed the room from corner to corner. Aola stopped next to him and followed his gaze.

Tools and equipment occupied a good portion of the room, stacked on top of sturdy shelves or jealously kept behind cages of steel or fortified display cases. There were mounds of overflowing junk in one of the corners, where pieces of metal mingled with peeking lengths of colorful plastics. A pair of lamps hung low from the ceiling, shedding soft, yellow hues over the assortment of curiosities and keeping the room sufficiently alight.

The soft smell of cheap detergent that hung in the air told him the room had been recently cleaned, though poorly, if the faint blanket of dust and sand that layered the walls and some of the merchandise was anything to go by. Slight traces of machine oil and exotic incenses also tinged the air, stirring something nostalgic deep within Emiya's heart.

He allowed himself inside shortly after, stepping past vitrines and stands highlighting a myriad of gadgets and weapons ranging from the primitive to the sophisticated. Aola followed along, visibly mesmerized by the oddities around.

They stepped past a scrawny alien sitting on a chair and cradling a long rifle in its hands. The creature leaned on its elbows when they passed and gave them something of an intimidating glare, before clicking its tongue and leaning back against its seat with what Emiya assumed was a mumbled curse.

He ignored it, only making note of its equipment and physical traits.

Small, domed devices dangled from the high ceiling, like miniature stalactites of glass and electronics, furtive and almost indiscernible in the shadows of the overhanging lights. He wasn't sure if those were cameras, or some other technology he had yet to get acquainted with. Tiny, automated laser turrets, perhaps?

"Hey," Emiya greeted, once they had reached the counter, and gave what he could see of the droid a quick inspection.

Thin limbs sprouted from a large chassis, giving the droid a strange and unbalanced feel. He wasn't sure if its cylindrical head looked any stranger than the rest of its body.

"Welcome, Human!" the droid said, "Nice weather today, huh?"

"If you're fond of scorching sunbathes," Emiya shrugged.

"Is this your first time in this establishment?" The droid asked, slightly leaning over the counter.

"I'm not sure. This town is a real maze," Emiya diverted.

"Well, whether you're a returning customer, or simply a prospecting patron, you're welcome all the same!" The droid said enthusiastically, "I'm sure we can cater to your needs. What will it be today? Some frozen Alderaan treats? Maybe one of those new toys the youngsters are raving about? Oh, I know. How about this…" it produced a small cylindrical hilt from behind the counter, "This is the latest fad in terms of recreational weaponry," It pushed a button at the base of the cylinder and a beam of spastic light flushed out of its end, "The EmTec Lightsaber, from the best Corellian toy manufact—

"What kind of costumers do you take us for?" Emiya said, knocking his knuckles onto the glass, "We're not here for tacky laser swords or… ice-creams."

He thought he heard a small gasp from beside him but it disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"Oh… well, pardon my spiel. How can I be of help?" The droid said.

Emiya flipped the cover of his bag and rummaged through the contents. He fished out a collection of trinkets and items and deposited them onto the counter. Aola joined him, and soon, they had amassed quite the little pile.

"We'd like to sell these," Emiya said.

"Oh, goodness," The droid intoned, its nimble fingers sifting through the mound, "A Gorthian bracelet… A durasteel lighter… A sand pearl… My, there is even an old krayt tooth. Now, this isn't something you see everyday…"

Emiya closed his bag and waited for the droid to finish its assessment. He turned his attention to a collection of knives and swords arrayed in a small backlit display to the side, busying himself by giving each of the blades a superficial analysis.

He was disappointed when none of the weapons triggered a reaction from his reality marble, but it was expected. He had spent days aboard an alien landship working around instruments and crockery, yet none had tickled his senses.

It seemed whatever had robbed him of his circuits had also stolen the passive abilities of his marble.

Emiya let out a breath and turned back to the droid.

"…well, this is quite the assortment of odds and ends you have here. Might I ask where you found all of these?"

Emiya's brow perked, "Is it common practice to question your customers?"

"Apologies," the droid waved both of its hands, "I tend to let my curiosity get the better of me. Please, ignore my previous query."

Emiya shrugged, "So, how much?"

"Eighty-three credits, good sir," The droid nodded, "I'm afraid some of the items presented here don't hold any proper value."

Emiya nodded.

"How much would this sell for?" He produced a small blaster from under his cloak and slid it onto the counter.

"Wait…" Aola grabbed his arm, "You want to sell your gun?"

Emiya shook his head, "I'm only curious."

The droid picked up the blaster and turned it in its hands, "Now this is quite the find, isn't it? An Aratech hold-out blaster in good condition. Would three hundred and twenty credits be satisfactory?"

"Statement: Now this is simply preposterous."

"Apologies?" The droid gestured in confusion.

"I think my… friend is unsatisfied," Emiya shook his head and brought the droid out of his bag, "Remember that pink bow we discussed earlier? Yeah, keep it in mind. I don't want any trouble here, okay?"

"Answer: Master, please, when have I ever let you down?"

Emiya raised an eyebrow.

"Statement: …No trouble, was it? Got it."

He put the droid down on the counter and crossed his arms.

"Warning: Ahem. Listen here, you tin-head," HK vibrated, "If you think you can swindle my Master out of a good deal, you're sticking your flinty fingers into your exhaust vents!"

Emiya sighed, "HK."

He noticed Aola palming her face from the corner of his eyes. It seemed she, too, knew exactly where this was going.

"Statement: Let me deal with this, Master."

"Goodness," the other droid said, "What is this diminutive thing?"

"Shock: Di-Diminutive?!" HK fumed, "You're stepping right into the trash-compactor, droid!"

"By the makers! You have my heartfelt apologies, I meant no offense!"

"Response: Offense well and duly taken, you overcompensating moron! You're going to give my Master a fair deal, or I swear on your servos, you won't whirr to see another day!"

The droid reeled back, "A fair deal? Is the amount offered unsatisfactory?"

"Answer: If by unsatisfactory you mean lacking a zero or two, then unsatisfactory clearly doesn't capture the scope of my dissatisfaction. And the master's, of course."

The droid gasped, "I'm afraid overpricing does not feature as one of my protocols."

"Observation: Then your protocols are clearly lacking. What kind of salesman doesn't overprice?"

"Enough," Emiya picked up HK and threw him back into his bag, "Away with you. I have a feeling you're going to sabotage the day if I let you do as you want."

"Complaint: But, Master! How else are we going to get the credits to buy me new parts!"

"Ignore him," Emiya shook his head and sighed for good measure, "The offer is tempting, but the blaster isn't for sale."

"I see…" the droid drummed its fingers over the counter, "Shall I conclude the trade, then?"

"Not yet," Emiya reached behind him for the old rifle slung over his shoulder, "How about this one?"

"Hmm," the droid took the wrapped weapon from his hands and placed it on top of the counter, "An old Cerbos blaster rifle," its fingers slid across the length of the barrel and stopped above the stock, "Ah, I'm guessing it's not in working condition?"

Emiya shrugged, "It's obvious, isn't it?"

The droid nodded, "Take a look here," it pointed towards the frame, "The ionizer is fried, and the cycler module is missing. Even the barrel itself is slightly warped. It's as if someone took it and smacked it upside of a block of duraplast. What kind of monster could have mustered enough strength to bend durasteel?"

Aola shifted on her feet and looked away.

Emiya heaved his shoulders, "Now, that's a good question." He brushed a few strands of hair away. He'd need to have it cut soon. "How much would it cost to have it repaired?"

"Around three hundred credits, at the least. I'm afraid ionizer modules for these older models are hard to come by."

"Commentary: I think your swindling subroutines are in need of a good downgrade." HK said, his voice muffled through the leather.

Emiya tapped his fingers over the counter. He'd have to sell his smaller blaster to have his bigger toy overhauled, but would it be worth it?

The rifle was old and clunky. He'd rather invest in something smaller and cheaper to maintain.

In the end, he had decided to sell it. The droid had given them three hundred and twenty credits for the weapon plus the various trinkets they had brought, enough to tide them over for a few days. Weeks, even, if they were careful.

"One last thing," Emiya said, "have a look at this."

He produced a small marble from one of his pockets, and carefully placed it on top of the pile of oddities.

It was the same as the one he had projected the night prior, except this one was a perfect copy of the original marble, both inside and out, without the imperfections and reinforced just enough to give it a better shine and sturdier structure.

"Goodness…" the clerk took the gem and rolled it between its fingers, "this is quite the jewel. Are you offering it up for sale?"

"Not quite yet," Emiya shook his head, "how much would you pay for it, if it were?"

"I couldn't say," The droid heaved its shoulders, carefully dropping the small ball back in Emiya's hands, "I'd need to give it a proper analysis, first, but the locals are fond of these things. I'm sure it would sell well."

Emiya nodded and placed the marble in Aola's hand when he noticed her insistent gaze. She had been looking at it rather intensely from the moment he had brought it out.

She marveled at the small jewel between her fingers and gasped at it, "W-where did you find this?"

"That's a secret."

"Anything else I can help you with?" The droid asked.

"That's all for the moment," Emiya shook his head, "But I think you'll hear from us again soon."

"Commentary: A second please, Master," HK said.

"What is it?"

"Suggestion: Considering where we're headed, I suggest you buy a small projector and a memory chip. I'm sure those will come in handy."

Emiya raised an eyebrow. HK wasn't wrong. He looked at the salesdroid expectantly, and the latter nodded before turning away and disappearing behind the counter. The droid came back not a minute later and slid some small, circular device over the glass.

Emiya picked it up and turned it in his hands.

"The model in your hands is a generic, brandless holo-projector. It's cheap and sturdy, and can even act as a communicator," the droid touted.

"Pretty convenient, huh?" Emiya gave the gadget a good shake, "you said it can be used for communication?"

"Indeed!" The droid responded, looking strangely proud, "Just have it registered at one of the communications offices throughout the outpost. You'll even be able to contact the galactic senate if you so wish!"

"Huh," Emiya hummed, "How much?"

"Fifty credits. Plus another three for a storage chip."

Emiya nodded. He slipped a few credits out of his pocket and pushed them towards the droid.

"We will be looking forward to your patronage!"

Emiya put the projector and memory chip away, then turned around and pulled a bedazzled Aola along as they stepped away from the counter.

Overall, this little visit had proven to be quite profitable. They certainly hadn't gotten rich, but Emiya already had a small idea churning in his mind. It wouldn't serve him to be hasty, however, and he'd need to give it some more thought before he put his plan into motion.

He stopped by a small cabinet displaying a long blade behind a panel of thick glass. It wasn't too different in shape from the many blades he had seen in his time, almost plain and boring from its shape alone. He knew it was anything but, however. There were lines of blue and green that streaked all across its silver blade, and connected with the pommel before disappearing beneath colorful ornaments.

His hand reached for the small knob on the side of the case and pulled the glass to the side.

The Alien sitting close by turned his way and cocked his weapon in a warning gesture. Emiya reached for the blade and took it with both hands.

It felt heavy and warm to the touch, the lines etched into the blade coming to life with vibrant blues and greens when the pommel settled in his palm. It was too big and thick for him to hold properly, and he had to wrap both of his hands around it lest it clattered to the floor.

The sword thrummed softly when he pushed a small button, obviously animated by some sort of energy.

"A beautiful piece, isn't it?" Something said behind him.

The droid walked up to them, its feet clinking on the floor.

"That one is a ceremonial blade. A unique piece that was passed down through generations of dune warriors before eventually making its way to our shop. We have more practical models, if you are interested. Vibroswords and vibroblades of every size and utility."

Emiya turned back to the blade in his hands. If this sword was an object of ceremony, he wondered what the real thing would look and feel like. He longed to hold something familiar in his hands, and these vibroweapons looked promising. Besides, he was curious what kind of mysteries he could pierce through with some well-applied structural analysis.

Emiya smirked, "I'd love to."

"Please?" Aola pleaded.

"You know I can't," Emiya said.

"Why?" the twi'lek stepped closer.

He let out a heavy sigh, "Because it's a secret. I can't just go and give away everything, can I?"

Aola shook her head and clutched the cusp of his sleeve, "I won't tell anyone. We're friends!"

His brow perked, "Well, friends or not, no still means no."

Aola let go and turned away, muttering something under her breath.

"I can still hear you, you know?" He said.

She gave him a petulant pout, then huffed away.

Emiya shrugged, "Look, how about this? I'll tell you where I found it if you behave well for the rest of the day. Deal?"

She turned back after a small moment of hesitation, and raised her pinky, "Promise?"

Emiya completed the seal, "Promise."

Aola smiled and turned back to gaze at the marble in the crux of her palm.

At least, she had forgotten all about the headband. She could keep the gem if she liked it so much. He could always make more.

Emiya's gaze drifted to the skies above, when something large and noisy flew overhead. He followed the trailing exhaust of a green-hulled ship that shot upwards and disappeared beyond the skyline, leaving behind only the fading roars of its engines.

Emiya wondered how easy it would be to find a ship and travel into space. He had no idea what lay beyond the skies of Tatooine, and had yet to meet anyone who knew enough to give him a proper rundown of the state of the galaxy.

Aola's education was lacking in certain aspects, focusing more on the grounded and the practical, and the jawas cared more about the happenings of their planet than the extratatooinian, if that was even a word.

To gain knowledge was his current and only goal. It would be the first step on the nebulous stairway that would hopefully lead to the understanding of his situation.

Perhaps Earth was somewhere out there, only at the jump of a few stars, and still as green and blue as he remembered it.

Emiya shook his head. He wouldn't hold onto ephemeral hopes. He had a feeling his quest would reveal just as many questions as it would answer, if not more.

He stopped in his tracks and stepped to the side, warning Aola along when a large, four-legged creature passed by. A short alien rode on top of it, clothed in robes and waving a long staff around as it shouted something in a bizarre tongue.

Maybe he'd look for an encyclopedia as well. Some of the creatures they had come across were intriguing.

He turned back ahead and resumed his walk. They were on the edge of the market, on a street that led away from the hustle of the busy businesses, and into the most well-guarded and wardened area of the outpost, yet.

The long tower that stretched before them, fused into the side of the even longer mountain behind it, loomed over the entire outpost, and made for quite the sight, especially from up close.

Dozens of crafts and shuttles flew overhead, their engines blowing through the air as they skimmed through the clouds and landed on the extended platforms that sprouted out of the tower.

The base of the monolithic structure was made of solid metal that seemed to tunnel into the rock, with a large, gated entrance that served as the main way into the tower. Above it, panels of glass and beams of steel stretched upwards, reflecting the blinding rays of the twin suns of Tatooine unto the surrounding streets.

The sound of heavy footsteps reached his ears, accompanying the files of security personnel that patrolled the direct vicinity of the tower, their weapons bared and uniforms dotted with sand and faded from wear. The markings of Czerka, the golden lines that streaked across green, were obvious under the plates of their armor.

As if the patrols weren't enough, Emiya spied more than a few turrets stood atop of the surrounding buildings, some automated and others manned, some aimed at the sky and others at the streets below.

Emiya let his gaze wander around and took in the sights of the tower and its surrounding facilities.

"Careful," he told Aola, eying a coming patrol and swerving to the left, "keep out of their way, we don't want to antagonize them."

"O-okay," Aola grasped her bag and angled her head.

They made their way forward, stepping past clusters of chattering individuals and parked vehicles. They eventually stopped at the back of an orderly line, where a dozen or so people were eager to set foot into the tower.

He heard a commotion far to his left, where a few guards were manhandling a winged alien with snail-like eyes pushed against a wall.

He noticed the frown on Aola's features, and gave her wrist a small squeeze.

She offered him a smile and a slight nod in return.

"Next!" It didn't take long before they stood in front of the security post, guarded by two armed men on either side.

The counter was almost higher than him and the twi'lek, and Emiya had to stand on the tips of his toes to catch the agent's attention through the small, open window.

"What's a midget doing here?" The guard took off his helmet and massaged the bridge of his nose, "This isn't a playground. Get lost."

"We'd like entry into the tower," Emiya said.

"Entry?" the guard barked a single laugh, "And what's someone like you gonna do inside? Wait, don't answer. I know. You think it'd be nice to go inside and stare at all the cool stuff, right? Maybe take a holo or two, or have a look at all the cute girls while you're there, huh? Are you even old enough to chase skirts?"

Emiya frowned. His bowl was almost full from being treated like a kid all day long, "Look, I just—

"Scram," the guard rested his cheek on his palm and waved his other hand, "Squirts like you have nothing to do here. The last time I allowed one of you inside, he crawled into a ship's reactor and ended up burned to crisps, along with his dad! You have no idea the kind of paperwork I had to fill."

"Observation: What an annoying pri—

"Ahem," Emiya gave his bag a good shake, and shrugged when the guard raised his eyebrow.

"We're not here to play. We have business inside."

"Business?" the guard smirked, "What sort of business does a kid have with Czerka? Better yet, what kind of business do you have with me?"

Emiya pulled out a few credits and slid them by the window, "We'd like to use the information center."

"Smart lad, aren't you?" the guard picked up the chips and pocketed them away, "But I'm afraid the center is closed right now. Maybe come back, say, at ten," he wiggled his brows and tapped his fingers.

Emiya let out a sigh, "I'm afraid mommy and daddy won't let me out so late," He skidded a few more creds over, "my curfew is at three."

He hated dealing with these types of people the most. Oh, how he wished he still was as old and tall as he used to be. Even his glare had lost its edge, looking more like a defiant pout than anything else.

The guard let out a single chuckle. He leaned against his seat and pushed a button to the side. "Stand still, I'm gonna screen you," A small, round droid flew out of the top of the guard post and down to them, "heh, as if a kid would have a—

The lens at the front of the droid flashed red and the guard let out a sigh, "I hate this frigging hole. Last thing you know, a kid is gonna put a smoking hole between your eyes," He palmed his face before extending a small box through the window, "you can keep the droid, but I want your weapons. Both of them. And no funny tricks, or these boys outside will make a barbecue out of you."

Emiya complied. Though with some reluctance from Aola, they handed both of their blasters.

"You're green to go," The guard flipped a switch beyond the window and caused a small passage to open through the gate, "Go straight through the door; the center will be on the second turn to your left. And don't stray, or I'll send some mean droids after you," He gestured with his hands and brows as if to scare them.

Emiya shook his head and led the march. He heard the guard huff and his seat squeak when they ignored him.

More guards stood at attention along the length of the gate, and yet one more security post was located right beyond the small passage that had opened up. The man there let them pass with a nod before turning back to his projector, and they proceeded inside without much trouble.

A long, gray corridor extended far before them, brightly lit and well-conditioned. Lines of painted green and yellow halved the walls on either side, disappearing beyond corners and open doors.

They passed by the entrance of a side room, where a group of people– technicians and engineers, judging by their apparel and the tool belts slung across their shoulders– were huddled around a large projection depicting a man in a prim uniform and a stern face.

They continued down the corridor and passed yet another room, where the sounds of heavy machinery and hollering voices leaked into the hallway. When they tried to take a peek inside, a large and dark droid barred their way and directed them further down the corridor.

The automated guard had surprised Aola out of her wits, and the poor girl had hidden behind him after letting out a shrilling scream. Thankfully, her voice had been swallowed by the surrounding noise and the droid had professed its apologies afterward.

"You can let go, you know?" he told the twi'lek, "Unless you misbehave, I doubt any of the people around here will care about us."

"I-I'm okay!" she mewled, trying to act confident, until a couple of Czerka officers hunched over a datapad brushed past them and caused the girl to fall back behind him, "r-really…"

Emiya raised an eyebrow but let the issue drop. They kept on following the corridor until they took the second turn on their left, where a section of the wall slid upwards and revealed the insides of what looked like a large, and well-endowed library.

They stepped inside, welcoming the quiet atmosphere once the door slid closed behind them.

Rows of glowing rectangles populated the shelves that extended in lines from the center of the room, where a single desk stood with its back to a large, cylindrical cone of glass and bluish light that extended upwards and disappeared beyond the ceiling.

There were computer terminals, too, interspersed through the rows of shelves and tables that filled the information center. Emiya wasn't exactly sure if those qualified as computer terminals, however. They looked more like clunky rectangles of steel with small screens on the side and projectors on top.

The center was almost empty, save for a few people sat alone and leafing through their datapads or holoprojectors.

Emiya made his way toward the reception desk, where a young woman was busy running her fingers across the blue image of a keyboard, while her eyes rapidly sifted through the data projected before her.

"Welcome to Czerka's Center for Research and Education," greeted the receptionist, "How may I help you?"

"We'd like access to the holonet," Emiya said.

"Ah, I see," she said, only now taking her eyes off the floating data. She raised both eyebrows when her gaze settled on them "…kids?"

Emiya raised an eyebrow, "Is there an issue?"

"No," the receptionist quickly recovered her cool and gave them a practiced smile, "I trust you know how to handle the terminals?"

Emiya turned to the twi'lek.

Aola inclined her head, "I do."

The young woman turned back to her projector and nodded, "I will activate terminal number fifteen and connect it to the holonet. Given your apparent age, you two will benefit from Czerka's youth program and have three hours of free access to the network. Any time beyond that will be charged at a fee of ten credits per hour."

"Right," Emiya said, and Aola nodded.

"Please, feel free to recommend Czerka's services to your family and friends," she pointed a dainty hand to her right.

They stepped away from the reception and walked across the room.

There was a single, cushioned bench circling around terminal number fifteen. Aola sat in front of the small screen and Emiya took the seat on her right.

"You think I can take off my hood?" The twi'lek looked over her shoulder at what few people they could spy from their position.

"Go ahead," Emiya said, "It's safe."

Aola smiled, and hurriedly peeled off her cover. She untangled her lekkus and let them drape freely over her shoulders with a contented sigh.

"Inquiry: Master, I wouldn't say no to a breath of fresh air."

Emiya unslung his bag and put it aside. He fished out HK and dropped him on his lap, eyes turned towards the screen.

"Okay," Emiya started. He took off his cloak and threw it over his bag, "Let's turn this thing on."

Aola flipped a small switch on the side of the machine. The screen whirred to life in a shower of letters and beeping noises, before settling on a loading bar that filled up in less than a minute.

"Welcome to Czerka's HoloNet experience!" Said a small, enthusiastic voice when a spinning logo appeared on the screen. The picture shrunk before sweeping away to one of the corners, making way for lengths of text and colorful links to feature on the green-tinted background.

"What does it say?" Emiya asked.

"…Welcome to Czerka's HoloNet experience," Aola began reading the screen out loud, "This terminal has been… granted access to the galactic network. You have two hours and fifty-four minutes of galactic standard time remaining on your allowance. Please, choose one of the options below…"

Aola pointed at the links at the bottom of the screen, "Option one: Overview of Czerka's operations. Option two: Interactive tour of the galaxy. Option three: Open the HoloNet browser."

Emiya nodded, "Option two."

Aola tapped the screen, which went black a second later before the lights of their surroundings dimmed and the projector at the top of the machine flickered on.

The looming projection of a droid appeared before them, floating a good foot or two above the terminal in a show of blue light.

"You have chosen to use the interactive tour of the galaxy," the translucent droid said, "this program was sponsored by the Republic's Ministry of Youth and Education. Would you like to begin the tour?"

"First off, I have a question," Emiya started, "Is there a planet named Earth, or Terra, in this galaxy?"

The droid stood silent for a few seconds, "No such planet is cataloged within the database. Could you provide the name of its star system?"

"The Solar System," Emiya shrugged, "Its star has many names; Helios, Sol, the Sun..."

"…None of the aforementioned are referenced in any of the Republic's star charts."

Emiya closed his eyes and heaved his shoulders. He had been half expecting such an outcome. Not that he was hellbent on finding a way home, but knowing that the Earth was somewhere out there would have given him some solace.

He crossed his arms and leaned back, "You can start the tour."

The image of the droid shrunk and moved aside, and a large map of the galaxy blossomed before them.

"This is a map of the galaxy as we know it," the droid waved an arm towards the map, "This cluster of stars, gas, and dust is about a hundred thousand light-years across and is home to some four hundred billion stars, of which only about a quarter have been thoroughly assessed. All of these revolve around the center," the image grew larger and zoomed into the core of the galaxy, "A massive black hole that weighs as much as four million suns. This is the Deep Core," the droid pointed towards the bright sphere in the center, "It is about seven thousand light-years across and contains about thirty billion stars. It counts as one of the galaxy's most dangerous and deleterious areas, where the stars are about a hundredth of a light year apart, and prone to collide and rip out each other's cores. I'd advise against going there." The droid shook a metallic finger,

"Most of the luminous galaxy is this disk of spiral arms rotating around the Deep Core. Contrary to popular and uneducated belief, the space between these spiral arms is far from being empty," The map zoomed out, "these gaps are full of stars and only look dark on account of the lack of the brightest supergiant stars, as well as the glowing clouds of dust and gas present only in the arms. Do also note that this disk is not perfectly flat. You will find stars above and below wherever you are."

The droid grew in size and overtook the projection, "Do you wish to know more of the galaxy's astrophysical characteristics?"

Emiya shared a look with Aola, before turning back to the projection and shrugging, "No."

"Very well," the guide shrunk and moved back to the corner, "as previously stated, there are about four hundred billion stars in the galaxy, with only seven point one of those habitable. These stars congregate into more or less one hundred and eighty billion star systems, some of which gravitate around more than one star. Only about three point two of these star systems can sustain life."

"Over the millennia since the discovery of the first hyperdrives, only a small fraction of those star systems has actually been charted, and only an estimated billion of those have sentient life living in them."

"Alright," Emiya said, waving his hand, "I think that's enough numbers for a single sitting. Tell us how the galaxy is divided. Show us what the power structure looks like."

"Ah, very well," The droid said, before swerving lines appeared over the map, separating it into regions, "The Galactic Republic has been the ruling government of the galaxy for over twenty thousand years. It is a representative democracy, composed of star systems, sectors and member worlds throughout most of the known galaxy," an orange bubble formed around a good portion of the starmap, highlighting the Core and an expense of stars to the south and east of the galaxy, "Other ruling powers exist, though their influence and reach cannot be compared to the Republic."

"The Hutt Empire is one such entity, whose remnants form what is collectively known as Hutt Space, a lawless region of the galaxy divided amongst the heads of prominent Hutt clans and located to the galactic east of the core," he pointed towards another colored area of the galaxy, much smaller and further from the center.

"So the Republic is the only ruling power? With no contender?" Emiya asked.

"Indeed," the droid confirmed, "Over the eons, the republic has known many conflicts and far-reaching wars, but it has stood strong. Its navy, despite having suffered major losses in the last conflict over a decade ago, is still the only policing force of the galaxy. It is a beacon that shines through the darkest and farthest reaches of space and ensures the safety of the core worlds and subsequent systems."

"I see…"

Emiya wasn't sure how such a monolithic power could sustain the wear and tear of millennia of inner strife and tension, without a rival neighbor to keep it in check and ensure that the hearts of its people were in line with the wishes of the ruling body.

However, he was applying terrestrial logic to a galactic democracy that spanned millions of worlds and star systems, and that realization humbled him. His knowledge was limited, and he'd need to dive deeper into galactic history if he was to make any assumptions.

"What are those lines, circling around the stars?" Emiya asked, "It seems the galaxy is divided into regions. Care to tell us more?"

The droid nodded, "The galaxy is divided into seven regions, exponentially larger and progressively less civilized the further away from the core they extend. Each of these regions corresponds to a particular stage of galactic exploration and settlement."

"From the galactic center rimward, those regions are the Deep Core, the Core, the Colonies, the Inner-Rim, the Expansion Range, the Mid-Rim, and the Outer-Rim," the map glowed with varying tints of blue and white, giving each of the seven regions of the galaxy a succinct shade.

"The Deep Core is the center of the galaxy. It is the innermost region, a pitiless blaze of stars packed closely together, where navigation is difficult and life is very rare. Despite its proximity to the seat of the republic, much of the Deep Core remains unexplored."

"So the Deep Core and the Core are two different regions?" Emiya asked.

"Indeed," the guide nodded, "While often hailed as the center of the galaxy, the Core is the collection of systems directly hugging the glowing halo of the Deep Core. It is the source of the Republic, the birthplace of the human species, and the undisputed hub of galactic culture, finance, technology, education, and fine arts. Most of its worlds are human-dominated, a result of aggressive human settlement and occupation eons before the dawn of the Republic."

Emiya nodded, "What's that bright dot north of the Core?"

"Ah," the droid exclaimed, raising a single finger towards the map, which shrunk and zoomed deep into the galaxy, until a single planet orbited in the projection, "Coruscant. The ultimate symbol of the Core. The cradle of Humanity. Although not the literal center of the galaxy, it might as well be given its political, economic and cultural influence. This hyper-industrialized world, this ecumenopolis, this queen of the Core has been the starting point of human exploration and settlement, and one of the founding members of the Galactic Republic as well as its current capital."

"Commentary: There are a lot of politicians on Coruscant, Master. We could spend a century slaughtering them and still not make a dent."

Emiya raised an Eyebrow. Coruscant, huh? What a fitting name for the gleaming center of the galaxy. If there was one world he'd want to visit, it would be Coruscant. Perhaps it held the answers to his questions?

"It is also the siege of the Jedi Order, whose grand temple extends above and around the sacred spire, and neighbors the Senate District," The map started zooming out, until Emiya held his hand and the projection froze on the image of the city-planet.

"Wait," Emiya leaned forward, "The Jeedai order? What's that?"

"Answer: Boorish monks with laser swords," HK answered, earning Emiya's attention, "The type of people who think they can parlay their way out of a sarlacc's pit."

He had no idea what a Sarlacc was, but he had the impression it was pretty big and toothy.

"I'm afraid the droid's answer is misinformed," spoke the projected guide, "The Jedi are a noble, religious order of warriors most notably renowned for their mastery of the lightsaber arts. They stand as the guardians of peace and justice in the Republic. While they may come off as boorish monks to some, the Republic would not exist today if not for their constant vigil and wise counseling."

"Commentary: A bunch of old and arrogant fools with outdated views, then. Let's not dwell on the subject, however. I think there are more interesting things to explore, like the wonderful Corellian manufactures or the unparalleled weapons industry of Balmorra—

"HK," Emiya turned to the droid in his lap, "I feel there is a story worth telling, here. Do you have a bone to pick with the Jedi?"

"Answer: Me? Not at all. I have yet to meet one of those so-called protectors of the Republic."

"Yet you hold them in contempt."

"Rebuttal: Who wouldn't? Any assassi— ahem, specialized droid worth their oil would do the same. The Jedi are a bunch of pacifistic, dogmatic quacks who worship some invisible energy that supposedly permeates everything. If that's not delusional, I wonder what is…"

"Wait, wait, wait," Emiya said, "Hold on. Invisible energy? What's this about?"

"I believe the droid is referencing the Force," the guide said, "It is what the Jedi call this invisible energy. A force field that connects every living thing and inanimate object. It is supposedly present throughout the galaxy and is what allows the Jedi to perform feats beyond what a normal individual can achieve."

Emiya leaned back against his seat, eyes wide and fingers digging into HK's hull.

This was it. The Force. The invisible energy. The mana that he reached for yesterday. He felt the strings come together, slowly threading into a sparse tapestry; the beginning of an answer, taking root in his mind.

"You said their order is on Coruscant?" Emiya asked, suddenly leaning forward, "Do they have any other temples? Maybe an outpost somewhere close?"

The droid shook its head, "Their main temple is on Coruscant. The order used to operate many extensions throughout the galaxy, but most were abandoned following the previous war. Only a few remain, spread across the Colonies and Core worlds."

Emiya shook his head, "Then where are we? Where exactly is Tatooine?"

The image changed yet again, and moved away from the bright, civilized reliefs of Coruscant to the brash, scarred contours of a barren world, "Tatooine. One of three worlds of the Tatoo system. A barren, arid planet baking in the heat of its twin suns. This is where we are," the projection zoomed out of the planetary view and displayed a map of the entire galaxy again, highlighting a small section to the galactic south, "The Arkanis Sector, located at the southern frontier of the mid-rim."

Emiya fell back against his seat with a sigh. There went his hopes. Tatooine was to Coruscant what Tokyo was to Paris, on a galactic scale, where distances were measured in light years.

How many years of his life would he need to waste in order to get to the Jedi and inquire about his situation?

"This… this energy– this Force, are there any other orders or religions in the galaxy associated with it?" Emiya asked.

Static distorted the image as the projected droid stood silent for a few seconds, "No. There are no other known entities or organizations with extensive knowledge of the Force."

That was dubious. That small pause told him there was something fishy, here. "Is that right? Are you sure? Perhaps a rival order to the Jedi? A dissident branch? Some obscure declination not recognized by the Republic? The Jedi couldn't possibly have a monopoly over the Force."

"None," The droid shook its head, "…None."

Emiya clicked his tongue and balled a fist, "You said the Jedi had to abandon their temples at the end of some war, who was it they fought against?"

"A separatist force intent on dividing the galaxy and taking the core worlds for itself," The droid answered, almost too quickly, "the conflict took place over a decade ago, helmed by a group of dissident Jedi drunk on ambition and power."

"A dissident group? Didn't you say there were none?" Emiya narrowed his eyes.

"…Dissident factions exist among the Jedi, but the instigators of the conflict are no more. The rebel movement was crushed by the Republic and a contingent of Jedi, and its lunatic leaders were dealt appropriate punishment."

Really, now? Was it censorship, or simply inaccurate data? Why was this thing swerving around the issue and avoiding the matter? Was the force such a dangerous topic that the Order and the Republic saw it fit to filter information concerning it?

"Forget it," Emiya waved a small hand, "Tell me more about this… Force."

"I'm afraid that is beyond my accreditations. Knowledge of the Force and its deeper facets is gated, and is only available to members of the Jedi Order and its affiliates," The droid tilted its head, "Are you perhaps a Jedi in training? If so, you may enter your credentials and access the data."

"Would I be asking all of these questions if I was?" Emiya sighed, brushing away strands of his hair.

"You have my sincere apologies for any misunderstandings and shortcomings, good sir."

"HK?" his fingers drummed over his biceps, "Do you know any more on the subject?"

"Answer: I have no knowledge of these things, Master. I'm afraid your guess is as good as mine."

"Aola?"

"H-huh?" She jumped, surprised. It seemed at some point her interest had wandered off as she had taken to busy herself with some items in her bag. "Uh, no?"

Emiya let out a long, aggravated sigh. It seemed the Jedi would be his only window into the mysteries of this so-called Force.

Oh, he could try and figure it out himself, but after what happened yesterday, he'd rather ask someone knowledgeable first, before diving into a dark, broiling ocean teeming with untold dangers.

"Alright," Emiya leaned back against his seat, "Suppose I'd like to get to Coruscant, how would I go about that?"

"Ah, space travel. I would recommend you visit the local authorities and consult them on the matter. Given your current coordinates, that would be, ah, the nearest bureau affiliated with Czerka Transports and Space Operations, located in the north-eastern quadrant of the Hollowport outpost."

Emiya shook his head. Bureaucracy.

"However, given the distance and relative danger of common hyperspace lanes, plagued with pirate raids and smugglers, I'd estimate a one-way, one-person trip to Coruscant from a spaceport here on Tatooine to cost upwards of two thousand and nine hundred credits. Prices may vary depending on corporate rates and galactic taxes."

Aola gasped beside him, and HK muttered something about dead swindlers and soon-to-be-crisped corporates. Emiya simply palmed his face and shook his head.

Three thousand credits. Multiplied by two that's six thousand credits for both him and Aola to leave this parched rock. And that was only a first estimate.

Ridiculous.

But again, that was through the official channels. He had no doubt there were people out there who'd be more than willing to smuggle them away given appropriate compensation.

It wouldn't be safe, however. And it'd certainly not be cheap…

They spent the rest of their allotted time on the terminal, learning more about the galaxy and downloading what data they could onto the small memory chip they had purchased.

Information on the Jedi Order was sparse, however, only adding up to short summaries and contextless quotes, often highlighting the exploits of its members and laced with superlatives. That droid had even told them stories about people riding on suns and walking the skies. How ludicrous and hyperbolic could those stories be, he wondered?

By the time their three hours had expired, they had collected enough knowledge of the galaxy to last them for months of intensive study. Though he had no doubt he'd be doing most of the studying. It seemed Aola's interests lay elsewhere, if the way her head had fallen on his shoulder half way through the session was any indication.

They flipped the switch off and the projection died. They stood up and donned their cloaks, before they excited the information center and strode through the corridor that led outside.

Emiya's mind was a broiling mess of jumbled thoughts and unlikely theories. One thing was sure, however. He'd be spending most of the coming nights delving into the acquired data and perfecting his knowledge of the galaxy.

"Are you okay?" Aola asked with a slight tilt.

Emiya nodded, "I'm fine. I just… have a lot on my mind."

"Commentary: Understandable. Who could have thought the galaxy was such a hot-pot of colorful meatbags, huh?"

Emiya gave the droid a nudge through his bag, "You could have told me of the Jedi sooner."

"Answer: Why, I had no idea my Master would fixate on a bunch of space wizards. I never thought you'd be interested."

"Well, you stand corrected. I expect you to share whatever information you have in the future."

"Answer: But of course, Master. You can count on my infallible loyalty and dedication."

Emiya turned to the twi'lek, "Didn't you know about the Jedi?"

The girl shook her head, "We… lived in a remote village. We didn't really care what happened outside."

"I see..."

"But the elders used to tell us stories," she said, "about brave warriors fighting for justice and helping the Republic."

"I'm guessing those stories weren't exactly rich in detail?"

"Uhm," she shook her head, "They just pointed at the stars and the buried ships. They never said anything about the Jedi."

"Understandable," Emiya threw his hand in the air, "the stories they told you were probably rife with heresay and exaggerations. I wouldn't trust them as anything other than bedtime stories."

"Ah, I guess…" she scratched her cheek, "You think the stories about the Jedi were wrong?"

"Honestly?" Emiya raised an eyebrow, "I have no idea. I'd need to learn more and meet one of them before I can make any judgement."

He couldn't just paint them all with the same brush, after all. He was sure the order had its fair share of rotten apples sitting at the bottom of the basket, but that didn't mean the whole of the Jedi were a rancid bunch. Hopefully, he'd get to meet one of those space monks and—

Darkness,

Blood,

Screams.

Emiya froze in his tracks, hands immediately falling to his sides.

"Sweet, sweet little boy…" an indistinct voice whispered in his ear, cloying and overbearing, "Come to play with me, have you?"

All sound disappeared from his perception, and his vision tunneled before him. Emiya couldn't move. His limbs felt as if hogtied, and the lump in his throat clogged his voice.

The sound of footsteps dragged itself through his mind, like tiny echoes that grew into loud bangs and slithered their way behind him.

Aola's face appeared before his eyes. She took hold of his shoulders and shook him, concern obvious on her crumpled features.

Emiya ignored her, his focus solely on the footfalls slowly creeping up on his back.

He struggled against his restraints and slowly turned his head, his muscles screeching like blades in a steel grinder with a promise of later pain.

"Hello, little one," A woman crooned.

His eyes fell on the black-tighted legs that stopped a meter away, clinking long-heeled boots onto the concrete. He followed the sinews and lines of her curves, past her skirt and fitting blouse, past the crimson jewel dangling from her neck and the strange clouds swirling within, until his gaze slowly crawled up to her face.

A bewitching smile adorned pallid and slender lines set against pools of midnight silk. Ashen skin stared back from under the gaps of her prim uniform, and eyes of the darkest black glared back in barely disguised amusement.

A single bead of sweat travelled down Emiya's brow and settled in the nook of his eye.

The edges of her lips rose further.

"I've been looking for you…"

The sound of clashing blades echoed through the walls, joined by a chorus of cheers and grunts that made for quite the symphony.

She dodged to the left, and the blade grazed the skin on her shoulder before swerving away. She took a step back and raised her guard, eyes locked on the figure before her.

The woman stepped closer and planted a foot onto the padded floor. She swiveling on her free leg and sent a vigorous slash across her raised guard.

She gasped, the full weight of the blow too much for her to fully absorb.

Another blow made her falter, and she dodged to the right when a third threatened to bite into her side.

"Your guard is crumbling," her opponent said, a small smile across her lips.

The girl angled her body sideways and ran a sleeve across her forehead.

"Remember the code?" the woman said, before stepping in for another blow, "There is no emotion—

The girl slithered out of her reach and rolled away, "there is peace!"

"Good," the woman said, "there is no ignorance," she flourished her hand and sent a wave of energy towards the girl.

She pushed with a wave of her own, but staggered when her efforts were overpowered. "There is knowledge—

She barely dodged the blade that careened towards her and cut a line through her tunic, "Hey, that's not—

The swiveling blade came back around and shaved a few strands off her hair, "Not my hair!"

The troopers on the side laughed and she sent them a scowl, "What are you laughing at—

Another wave pushed against her.

"Your focus is lacking," the woman said, "there is no chaos,"

"T-There is harmony," the girl groaned. She held her vibrosword with both hands and squeezed the pommel. She focused on her feet and the space between her and her mother.

With a single push, she leaped upwards with a Force Jump and flipped upside-down. Her feet connected with the ceiling before she dove back down and put her weight behind her blade.

The woman smiled and simply raised her hand, halting the girl in her descent and suspending her in the air. "Showy, but ultimately fallible. I could have brought you down ten times over while you were busy flying."

The girl's brows twitched, her face set into a tantalized frown. Her limbs refused to move, and the padded floor a few meters below didn't look so soft anymore.

The troopers watching the show exploded in laughter, and she swore to give them a piece of her mind once she was out of her… predicament.

"See? You're only making an idiot out of yourself," the woman smiled, nodding her hand along and sending her daughter through a few sickening motions, "There is no death…"

The girl struggled, barely able to move her lips. "T-There is—

The stasis faded, and she plummeted towards the floor before stopping a mere inch away. She looked up toward her mother and mustered her best smile, "There is the Force?"

The woman shook her head and dispelled her technique, and the girl fell face first onto the padded steel.

Nomi Sunrider sighed, "Vima, where has your zeal gone? You've been out of it the entire morning."

The girl slowly pushed herself off the floor and rubbed her nose, leaning against her blade for support, "Zeal? I think you're the eager one, here. I could have broken an arm!"

Nomi shrugged, "The path of Knighthood is a harsh one."

Vima pouted and cradled her bruised arm as she took to her feet, "I thought force powers were off-limits…"

The woman put a hand to her temple and shook her head, "You really are out of it, aren't you? I told you half-way through the duel that the rule had been lifted."

"Ah?" Vima scratched her cheek, "Maybe…"

"Don't move," Nomi stopped before her and reached for her shoulder, "let me look at this."

Vima looked away and shrugged, "It doesn't really hurt…."

"Nonsense," Nomi said. A bubble of bluish light swelled over her shoulder, filling her depleted reserves and healing the bruises. A few seconds later, the Jedi master stepped back and Vima tried her shoulder.

"Ready for another bout?" The older woman asked.

Vima turned to the vibrosword in her hand, "I… I think I've had enough. Maybe sometime later?"

Nomi raised an eyebrow, "That's not like you. Are you sure everything is alright? You do look a little pale…"

Vima waved her hand, "I'm okay. I just…" she turned to the floor and frowned, "Mom, can I ask you something?"

Nomi shook her head, "Now, this really isn't like you; since when do you ask for permission?"

"Last night…" Vima pushed the small button on the hilt and deactivated her sword, "I think I may have had a vision."

"I see…" the older Jedi put a hand on her shoulder and guided her to one of the benches. She slipped the blade out of her hand and put both of their training weapons away.

Vima took a seat and clasped her gloved hands over her lap. She tried to remember the full features of the dream she had experience just the night prior, but her recollections were murky and disjointed.

"Is it normal? Do Jedi get visions often?"

Nomi sat beside her and draped an arm over her shoulders. She gave her a good squeeze and ran a few fingers through her auburn hair, "Of course they do. Many Jedi experience a vision or two throughout their lives. It's one of the many gifts of the Force."

"Did you?"

"… I did. Just after…"

Vima glanced at her mother and noticed the lingering frown on her face. Pieces of a long-forgotten memory came to her mind and her eyebrows drooped when she remembered.

"I… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—

"Shh," Her mother said, "It's okay. It's been a long time." She pulled her close and caressed her head, "I've had a few visions of my own. One during our trip to Ambria, and the others a few years later. Though one of those was more of a… manifestation of the force than a proper vision."

Vima laid a hand over her mother's, "What did you see?"

"I could hardly tell you," the woman nudged her cheek, "Most of what I saw has become a jumbled mess of weres and could-have-beens. A Jedi's vision usually comes as a guidance from the force, to steer them towards a certain resolution. It's a personal thing, and often ends up as nothing more than an inconsequential dream."

"And how is it different from a normal dream?" Vima asked.

"It's hard to describe," Nomi shook her head, "A Jedi simply knows when he or she has a vision. It's akin to intuition."

"Can… can it be ignored?"

"It really depends. Now, tell me, what did you see?"

Vima twiddled her fingers and looked away, at a small window that stared out into space. Should she tell her, or should she keep it a secret? She knew it couldn't possibly come true. It was too horrible of a foresight to even consider, yet she felt as if something had wormed itself into her heart, a disease that wouldn't leave her alone until she told someone about it…

"Well," she traced a finger over the fabric of her pants and drew the edges of a large flame.

Nomi rubbed her arm, "Hmm?"

Vima looked away, "I… I think I saw Coruscant burning…"

Author's Note:

Well, I think I'm five weeks late on this delivery.

To all those who've been patiently waiting for this chapter, thank your for your patience and sorry for taking so long.

If you've bothered to check my profile in the past few weeks you may have noticed something about me running around and looking for a job. That was the primary reason for this delay, and it might continue on until I settle down and free up some time in my schedule.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you have any suggestion or remark, I welcome your reviews.

I even encourage you to throw me a PM if you want me to answer right away. I always notice those since I receive notifications on my Gmail and my phone buzzes whenever I receive a new mail.

To the kind folks over on patre(on), thank you! You know who you are :)

To those who wish to contribute or receive updates on future chapters, you can find me on patre(on) dot com slash kylesentient

Also, I feel like starting another story to keep me busy whenever Writer's Block hits. It may be a crossover between FSN and RWBY, featuring a grown-up Shirou as the main lead. Thoughts?

See you soon!