Title: Magnificent Shades Of Grey

Author: sleepyowlet

Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas. I'm not making any profit.

Babblerama: I haven't abandoned this fic, I'm just restructuring what's going to happen, since I lost all my notes on it. Progress will be really slow. Filler chapter ahead. Sorry.

Chapter 11

Therana waited until the computer had calculated the jump to Tattooine and activated the hyper-drive. Ananké knew nothing about the Rim, but she had seen many worlds there before her parents had decided to relocate her to Coruscant.

Tattooine was a good place to start. Many people who were sought by the Empire lived there and were relatively safe. Relatively so, because the Empire had no influence there, but the planet was controlled by the Hutt syndicate. And Hutts were just as dangerous as the Empire.

But they wouldn't be interested in two fugitives.

It would be an adventure. Her parents had never allowed her to do or be anything special, they only wanted her to do things they considered proper. She had been a bargaining chip, supposed to marry someone influential to make her family more powerful. Quite resigned to her fate, she had limited her rebellion to her outrageous hair-colours and had pretended to be pretty but vapid. Nobody wanted a wife smarter than them, after all.

And then she had met Ananké.

An artist. An intellectual. An extremely sensitive, timid woman prone to blushing and stuttering fits. But with a core of steel, at least it seemed that way to Therana. Who else could survive the top agents of the Empire, endure the destruction of ones beloved home planet, and still have the strength to move on, make plans and carry them out?

Not many, Therana was sure of that.

The object of her contemplation chose that moment to enter the cockpit.

"So we're on our way," Ananké said, and sat down in the co-pilot's chair.

"Yep, no turning back now," Therana answered with a wry smile.

"I've been thinking. Perhaps it would be better to change our names. This won't mislead a bounty-hunter for long, but it might give us an edge, if not every merchant knows who we really are."

"Yes, this might be a good idea. I could call myself Uuta Spinner. Country bumpkin name, and I can speak the accent pretty well. But you won't come across as anything other than Alderaani. Too much poise."

Ananké just shrugged.

"There are names that are common on Alderaan… were common on Alderaan. And with so many people unaccounted for, nobody will be able to check. I'll think of something."

Therana nodded and stayed silent.

"So, anything I should know about Tattooine?"

Therana shrugged.

"It's a dirt-ball with almost no water but more than enough criminals. The only halfway decent people there are the moisture farmers, but trust me, you don't want to live that kind of life. Civilisation, or whatever passes as such in that place, is limited to a few towns and settlements. The wastelands are ruled by the Tusken, who are nomads and extremely nasty. Nobody knows what they really look like, they are covered with some sort of bandages from head to toe. They ride on big, furry things called Banthas."

"Sounds like paradise," Ananké muttered sarcastically.

"Well, the Empire is almost non-existent there, so it must be."

"Good point."

...

Ananké had difficulties to decide if Tattooine was better or worse than Coruscant. On the one hand it was definitely more alive than the overcrowded capital planet of the Empire, on the other hand it was definitely less civilized. Not that it was a planet without history (that it definitely was, some settlements dated way back to before the Mandalorian wars, and there were mysterious ruins that were thousands of years older than that, erected by a lost civilisation that had left its marks over many planets of the known galaxy) but it was very run down. Everybody scavenged the remains of better days to make their lives a bit more comfortable and nobody thought of forming a working community where people helped one another. But she strongly suspected that was at least in part due to Jabba the Hutt who wanted to rule unimpeded and therefore played as many people as possible against each other to prevent them from uniting and moving against him.

On Coruscant she had missed the sun that she had taken for granted on Alderaan; here she missed the water. Showers were a luxury on Tattooine, baths were not to be had. And the sand was practically everywhere, in the clothes, in the food and in her hair. A few days after their arrival on this Force-forsaken dust-ball Ananké had paid one of the local women to put her hair into myriads of tiny braids to keep it manageable. It made her look rather savage. All the better to blend in, she thought.

The Holo-News had a lot to say about the destruction of a huge space station and the man who had been in charge of it - it hadn't taken Ananké a second to understand that this had been the Death-Star. She was glad that this monstrosity had been blown out of existence; although she felt a little sad that her father had died with it. Now she would never have the chance to maybe change him. But that chance had been minuscule from the beginning.

They were sitting in Ananké's cabin having tea after checking the Thranta; you could never be too careful on this planet. They had decided to live on their ship to keep an eye on it – and to save money.

"So what do we do now?"

Therana shrugged.

"Our combined money will last us for a while. But we should try to find a way to earn some – we don't know how long we'll have to stay hidden."

"Neither of us is good at flying. We can start, plot a course and land – but as soon as we're caught in a space battle, we're toast," Ananké sighed.

"We'll have to find a pilot then. But I think we'll have a bounty on our heads soon; it will be difficult to find someone we can trust."

"So we just start and hope for the best? Perhaps we can get a few low-level jobs from the Alliance; you know, ship people and things from one planet to another."

"That might be an idea. But how do we contact them?"

Ananké hesitated a little. Therana was her friend, right? The Force usually warned her if someone was untrustworthy.

"I can contact Princess Leia's aide, Winter."

"The one who modelled for you?"

"Yes. She's part of the Alliance. You see – that the Death Star has been destroyed is partly my fault... I gave them the information that it existed and the date and route of Tarkin's convoy."

Therana's eyes became as big as saucers.

"You...you did? But he was your father!"

Ananké pressed her lips together and looked away.

"I know. But I didn't have a choice. If I hadn't said anything, the Death Star would have destroyed even more worlds. I had to do it."

"Yes, I see your point."

A part of her suspected that Tarkin had guessed who was responsible for the ambush on his convoy; that perhaps the destruction of her home-planet was an act of revenge against her. But even if it was, she didn't regret anything. So many more people would feel like she felt... Ananké tried her best to hide her pain from Therana, but in the dark hours of the night she curled up in her bunk and cried for her dead home, for all the things that were lost forever. Sometimes she went out into the desert to scream her pain at the stars and to let her fury run free where it couldn't hurt anyone. She was vaguely aware that she'd better meditate about it than crushing rocks and such; but that was for later; the pain was too raw yet.

...

The white-haired woman looked around. Nar Shadda wasn't the most wholesome place in the galaxy (far from it), but the Empire didn't bother with the small moon orbiting Nal Hutta much; the Hutts made sure of that. It was the perfect meeting-place.

Winter hadn't been surprised to hear from Ananké so soon. Many people from Alderaan chose to join the rebellion after the destruction of their home-world. It was however a surprise that she didn't want to join – at least not officially. Her friend was another matter though; Therana Iskranfe seemed trustworthy enough and was a talented slicer. She'd be a good addition to Intel.

There they were. She looked briefly into Ananké's eyes and saw the pain in them that she knew was reflected in her own. No words were necessary.

Therana Iskranfe was smiling, her eyes lit up at the promise of adventure.

"So you'd be interested in transporting goods and passengers for the alliance."

Ananké nodded.

"But you don't want to join us," Winter added.

"No. I don't think my family-connections could be kept under wraps for long, if I officially joined you. I don't want everybody pointing at me."

Winter sighed. Unfortunate, but understandable.

"Very well. We need help moving our base from Yavin to its new destination. We will trust you with it because of the help you've already given us. Admiral Ackbar sends his greetings by the way."

Ananké smiled.

"I'm glad he made it. How is he?"

"Just fine. He's got a brilliant mind, and he's one of the most honourable people I've met."

That meant something coming from her – unlike other people Winter remembered literally every single person she'd ever met.

"Yes, I know. It was terrible to see him as a slave."

Ananké's pale blue eyes grew haunted, and Winter decided to let the matter of her joining the Alliance drop for now; there would be many raised eyebrows, and certainly there would be enough people who'd give her trouble about her father – and that so soon after the loss of everything dear to her... No, that would only be cruel.

"He's offering you a place with his family on Calamari should you ever need it," she said, her voice deep and soothing.

"Hey, sounds good to me! Beach-holiday, sand, ocean, drinks with little umbrellas in them..."

Therana of course, Winter couldn't suppress a grin at the young woman's antics. She had leaned back in her chair, her face turned upward as if to catch warm sun rays, her ugly mug of caffa elegantly suspended in her right hand like a delicate cocktail glass.

"All right, so it's Yavin. The conditions," asked Ananké.

"Nine-hundred credits for every successful run. It's not much, but we can't afford more," Winter answered, hoping that she'd agree. It was enough to cover fuel and docking fees as well as moderate living expenses, but it could hardly be called a profit.

"No, that's all right. We're not trying to get rich, we're just trying to get by," Therana joked.

"Good. We'll meet on Yavin 5 then."

They said their good-byes and made for their respective transports.

...

Yavin was beautiful. Only a few signs of a lost civilisation peeked through the endless green of the jungle-moon; the huge pyramid like temples dated back to the times of Exar-Kun and before. In one of them was the Rebel Base that was now being moved to a snowball of a planet in the Hoth system. That was at least what some of the rebels said who had already been there.

Ananké left it to Therana to organize things and busied herself with her ship. She'd done some serious thinking during the trip. If Therana made friends with those people, she might consider joining them; that would really be for the best. If she was caught by the Empire or some bounty hunter, at least Therana wouldn't be with her.

...

Therana was in heaven. Yavin's jungles reminded her a little of her home-world Duxun. Winter had introduced her to a few of their slicers who had some much appreciated down-time as their equipment was being dismantled. A few of them were like her; rich kids who had had everything but had chafed at the imperial restrictions made to learning and living. They had wanted to get out and wanted to make a difference – just what Therana had discovered about herself too. Others were non humans who had faced a future without chances due to the racism that arose with the Empire. The leader of the section was an Ithorian who had once taught cryptology at the University of Coruscant. He was quite sad that the base had to be moved, like most of his people he loved plants and wildlife. His ideas about codes had been revolutionary and the Empire still used his work in the present time, but of course without ever mentioning his name.

"D'you want another?"

Therana looked up.

"Yeah, why not," she said and held out her mug. Therana and some of the cryptologists were in the still standing part of the cantina, drinking and chatting like they had known each other for years.

"The last level three fleet code took us ages. But we've got some interesting things out of the messages once we decoded it it. There's a bounty out on your friend, in courtesy of the Emperor himself. What did she do?"

Therana looked at the young man sitting on the other side of the cantina table. Cas Ferguson seemed nice; and he was handsome in a distracted, nerdy kind of way.

"She... well, it's rather personal, I think... she wouldn't like it if I spread her story. It's hers to tell; if you want to know, just ask her."

"Aaaaw, come on. Give us a little something," one of the others chimed in.

"It had to do with the Death Star. She got some people high up mad at her because of it. But that's all I'm going to give you."

The motley crew around the table complained loudly but Therana was adamant and said nothing more about this topic. She felt like she had come home; so many people who cared nothing about where she came from or what her connections were; only her personality and her abilities mattered. She would love to stay – but could she leave Ananké out in the cold? It was with a heavy heart that she returned to the ship.

...

It went well – the Thranta was small and nondescript enough to slip through any security the Empire had put up, and usually hers and Therana's parts were quite low profile and not really dangerous. Ananké watched her friend closely. Her tendency to fidget had increased; she seemed conflicted and restless. She was about to crack. On their last visit to Hoth in the foreseeable future Ananké decided to take the initiative. They both sat in the little galley of their ship having tea.

"You'd like to stay."

Therana looked at her like a Nerf in headlights.

"Ananké.."

"You could, you know. It would be better even."

Therana blinked.

"How so?"

"This way at least one of us would be reasonably safe. And I could bet that the Imps are looking for us together. I t would be easier to give them the slip if we separate."

"And what will you do?"

Ananké shrugged.

"Find myself a co-pilot and continue."

"And if said co-pilot sells you out?"

"Said co-pilot won't know who I am. Stay with them, Therana. It's the right thing to do, and they need you."

"But if they catch you," Therana cried and got up to pace.

"Then I'll be alone. Better one of us than both of us; if they do succeed, there's nothing you or I can do about it, even if you were with me."

Therana stopped her pacing and looked at her friend.

"If you're sure. I hope you'll be safe."

Ananké raised one eyebrow.

"I'll do my best not to get myself blown up or caught, if you'll do the same."

The newest member of the Rebel Alliance grinned.

"Deal."