A/N: Sorry for the delay. I had lost my draft for this chapter due to laptop crashing and then couldn't muster the resolve to write it again from scratch. I had intended to drop this chapter on patreon first but it had already been 3 days since I updated it here.
Apologies to my patrons, but since the next chapter's draft is already half complete (written and saved before my laptop crashed), I feel that I can post it by morning today (its mid-night here so figure the hours)
Also let me take this oppurtunity to thanks my patrons:
Idoronoco, Ouraga_n, Silver Prime, Sir Files, Darth Bane, Connor Lennon, ji ji
Thank you for your support, it really means very much to me. Its an huge motivation for me to write
___
The Scythe settled onto the sand with a soft thud, the engines whining down to a low hum.
"Are you sure about this, Fulcrum?" Nari asked, his hands still gripping the controls like they might try to escape. "There's... nothing here."
I looked out the viewport at the landscape. Flat sand bed, surrounded by rocks that looked like they'd been dropped from space by a careless god. Objectively? Middle of fucking nowhere.
But it was perfect.
"Can't land the ship anywhere near a settlement," I said, unbuckling my restraints. "The moment someone catches a whiff of this stolen ride, we'll have three Inquisitors on our asses faster than you can say 'May the Force be with you.' Plus, having this ship show up again would blow up the whole story I fed them about Lando Calrissian and Crimson Dawn."
Nari nodded slowly, processing. "Right. The cover story. Of course." He was getting better at not questioning my methods. Progress.
He carefully maneuvered the ship into a shallow depression between two rock formations, using the terrain to partially conceal our position. When the engines finally cut out, the silence was almost deafening.
"So... what now?" Nari turned to me, his expression shifting from pilot to concerned caretaker. "Travel on foot to the nearest settlement?" He glanced toward the cargo bay where the three survivors were sleeping amid the scattered parts of his looted shuttle. "They're surely not in any condition to travel."
"Of course not," I said, already heading for the ramp controls. "I didn't save them from a torturous death just to condemn them to another one under the twin suns." I hit the button, and the ramp began to lower with a hydraulic hiss. "I have a vehicle parked some distance away. A speeder bike, to be exact."
Nari's eyes lit up with hope. "A speeder bike? That would... that would help considerably. Then I take it I should guard the ship while you retrieve it?"
"That's the plan," I confirmed. "And not just the ship - the survivors too. The Jundland Wastes are never safe. It'll take me an hour or two to get back, so I hope you can handle the babysitting duties."
Nari drew himself up, a flicker of that Jedi pride returning. "I believe I can manage. We will be safe here."
"Good. Keep your lightsaber handy just in case," I said, already moving down the ramp. "And try not to have a moral crisis about anything while I'm gone."
Before heading out, I made a quick detour to the side room. Lyra was still asleep, her breathing more even now. The bacta patches were doing their job, turning the angry red of her wounds to a softer pink. Her lekku were curled slightly on the pillow, almost like they were hugging it for comfort.
I stood there for a moment longer than necessary, then shook my head. Not the time. Not the place.
The ramp lowered completely, and I stepped out into the fading light of the twin suns. The air was already cooling, but the sand still radiated heat like a giant oven that had been turned off ten minutes ago.
As I walked away from the ship, a thought occurred to me. What if Nari took off? Left me stranded in the middle of nowhere with his precious shuttle parts and four traumatized civilians? It was a possibility. A small one, but still.
Nah. The guy was too sentimental about his ship to abandon it. Plus, he'd seen what I did to those Tuskens. He probably wasn't eager to test whether my mood swings extended to Jedi Knights.
I pulled out my datapad, the screen glowing in the twilight. The map showed my speeder bike was about five klicks northeast. Close enough to walk, far enough to not be immediately obvious.
Time to go for a stroll.
___
The desert was quiet. The kind of quiet that makes you hear the blood pumping in your own ears, the sound of your own breathing amplified until it's all you can focus on. Five klicks. An hour's walk. Plenty of time to let my brain run in circles.
My boots sank into the sand with each step, the rhythmic crunch-crunch-crunch a metronome for my spiraling thoughts. Vasha. The ache was a constant companion, a phantom limb that still hurt even after all these months.
I had thought that I had it under control, but seeing Lyra today...hearing her story...it was like somebody poked a scabbing wound with salted needle. It would have been a reminder of what I am working for, but with the revelation I had gotten moments before, it just fueled my paranoia.
I'd been holding onto this fragile hope—that the Empire needed her skills, that they'd keep her alive for her mechanical genius. Even if I had been the one behind miracle repairs, Vasha was not a regular mechanic that I had assumed her to be at start of our journey. And with exposure to so many peice of exotic and alien tech, her skills have only blossomed more and more.
It was the only thing keeping me from completely losing my shit. But now? With this Legends-Canon clusterfuck of a timeline? What if there was a surprise accident or attack on Scarif? What if she became just another statistic in some battle I never saw coming?
Its not like these possibilities came into being with Legends, but it sort of gave me a rude but necessary awakening of how tiny me or her were on the galactic scale. Not leads of a story being protected by plot armour for our eventual reunification years later, no, this was real life, and even more, an dystopia on level of cyberpunk if we look at imperial workers cum slaves.
The thought made my chest tighten until it was hard to breathe. I couldn't imagine what I'd do if I found out she was... gone. The rage I felt when I killed that drunk back on Lothal...even if it became a supernova, what use would it be? The people gone were gone, dead were dead.
Building my power was good, necessary even, but staying on Tatooine longer and longer? It was like trying to become a champion swimmer by practicing in a bathtub while the world around me was suffering from volcanic eruption every moment.
There was just no time to spare.
Scarif... I'd been obsessing over it for months. From what I remembered, the whole damn planet was covered with planetary shielding. One entry point, probably with security checks so thorough they'd probably want a DNA sample and your childhood diary just to let you through. And that's assuming you didn't get blasted to atoms by turbolasers from orbit for having the wrong kind of ship.
Brute force wouldn't work. Not if a rogue Vader attacked the planet, he wouldn't succeed. I needed something else.
Its not like The Force was some uber powerful ability that let you teleport across spacetime...
Oh
Oh wait, who am I kidding!? In the Legends universe, Force abilities were like Pokémon—gotta catch 'em all. There were probably a hundred different ways to get around the galaxy that nobody ever mentioned in the movies.
Wait a second.
Isn't that a good thing?
This world could be an amalgamation of Canon and Legends for all I know. So why not the Force itself? Maybe it's an amalgamation too. Maybe all those weird-ass abilities from the old EU exist here.
Motherfucker.
That changes everything. Plans. A lot of plans. Plans that don't need me to be on Tatooine to grow stronger.
The Jedi Archives that never existed in Canon? Maybe they're intact somewhere in this timeline. The Holocrons of ancient Sith Lords that were never mentioned in the movies? They could be real. Force Walk, the ability to bind spirits to yourself and drain their power. Force Healing that could actually regenerate limbs. Battle Meditation that could turn a squad of farmers into an army.
I stopped walking as the weight of realization felt like a ton of bricks thrown on my nuts.. All this time, I'd been thinking about power in terms of what I'd seen in the movies and shows. Telekinesis. Lightning. Mind tricks. But if this universe really was a mash-up...
Then the sky's the limit.
I started walking again, faster this time. The sand kicked up behind me as my pace quickened. I needed to talk to Obi-Wan. I needed to know, how much was this reality had incursed into the next. He knew things. Things that weren't in any textbook I could get my hands on.
And if he didn't know? Well, I'd find someone who did. The galaxy was bigger than just Tatooine and Lothal. There were ancient temples, forgotten worlds, secret societies.
Things that can allow me to realize my plans sooner.
The twin suns were setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. It was beautiful, in a desolate kind of way. But it wasn't my home. It wasn't where Vasha was.
And it wasn't where I was going to find the power I needed.
Tatooine was a detour. A necessary one, maybe, but a detour nonetheless. Perhaps it was time I started taking the wheels of the car.
--
I found the speeder bike exactly where I'd left it, tucked between two rock formations that looked like decaying molars. A couple of Jawa-sized piles of ash nearby confirmed the anti-theft system was working as intended. Good. Saved me the trouble of hunting down some shortstack scavenger to get my property back.
My main tent was a few hundred meters away, looking like a sand-blasted tumor on the landscape. I did a quick perimeter check. All the proximity mines and auto-turrets were still active and hidden. No signs of tampering. Even the sand around the entrance was undisturbed. Ben was either respecting my space or, more likely, had no idea this little forward operating base existed.
Inside, I took a moment to swap gear. The helmet I'd worn in Mos Eisley went into a sealed locker. I pulled out a different one—same basic design, but with a few fresh scrapes and a different filter mod. I swapped the heavy overcoat for a lighter, hooded poncho that smelled vaguely of engine grease and desperation. Couldn't be too careful. If some Imperial spy had gotten a lucky glance, I needed to muddy the waters.
I grabbed a crate of non-perishable food packs and a bundle of Ben's spare clothes—simple, rough-spun tunics and trousers. The old man wouldn't miss them, and our survivors needed something to wear besides thermal blankets and trauma.
Before heading back, I connected my comm with the small relay station in my tent and homed in to Ben's comm ID.
"Master Ben. It's me, your ever diligent and very lovely disciple. Had a bit of adventure today & got myself an ride too. I'll be back by morning. Also, heads up, I heard that Mos Eisley has three new pissed off guests. Black armor, red glowstick, shitty attitudes. They're stranded for now, but they might wander to Anchorhead. They have your ex of a sand hating student on speed-dial so wouldn't recommed meeting them if you are in for a touching the tips session"
I didn't wait for a reply. He'd get the message. Frankly, the warning was more for my own peace of mind than his. If those three idiots actually stumbled into Anchorhead looking for trouble, Ben would handle it. 6 months ago, there might have been a reclusive hermit living here who hadn't done more than jogging in years but these day? The man was a retired grandmaster who spent his days meditating & contemplating the mysteries of Force and his evenings using a stick to beat the shit out of an armored pre-teen. Three Inquisitors were less of a threat and more of a light cardio session for him.
I couldn't wait to ask questions, but I had some wounded responsiblities to tend back at Sycthe. Morning would be when I can relieve some of them, and it gave me a bit of time to think of what to tell Master Ben..regarding Inquisitors as well as Hett.
I loaded the supplies onto the speeder bike. The engine coughed to life with a sound like grinding rocks, but it held together. The ride back to the Scythe was a blur of cold wind and darker thoughts.
By the time I got back, one of Tatooine's moons was already high, casting a pale, bone-white light over the dunes. Nari had, surprisingly, managed to get a small fire going in a sheltered spot near the ship's landing gear. The three survivors—the two human men and the Rodian—were huddled around it, wrapped in blankets. The human woman was tending to the flames with a focused intensity, like it was the only thing holding her sanity together.
Lyra was still inside, sleeping.
"Brought dinner," I announced, killing the speeder's engine and hauling the crate off the back. "And clothes." I tossed the bundle of tunics near the fire. "They're clean. Ish."
Nari looked up, relief plain on his face. "Fulcrum. You returned."
"Got my ship here, why wouldn't I?" I asked in a teasing tone, and then started handing out the food packs—bland nutrient bars and self-heating soup cans. "How are our guests?"
The Rodian just stared into his soup can. One of the human men, the older one with a grizzled beard, gave a slow, weary nod. "Alive. Thanks to you."
The woman finally looked up from the fire. "My... my name is Jax. This is Corr," she gestured to the bearded man, "and that's Teelo." The Rodian didn't react to his name. "We... we were with a moisture farming collective. North of Mos Espa."
I nodded, cracking open a nutrient bar. It tasted like compressed sawdust and regret. "Family? Anyone waiting for you?"
Jax's face tightened. "The Tuskens... they... my husband..." She trailed off, shaking her head. Corr just stared into the distance, his jaw working silently. Teelo let out a low, chittering sob.
Right. Stupid question.
"We have a choice," I said, moving on. "I can drop you in Anchorhead at first light. You can find transport, get off-world, whatever you need to do. Or, you can wait a couple days. I might be able to get you closer to any family you have left, but no promises."
The answer was immediate and unanimous.
"Anchorhead," Jax said, her voice firm. Corr and Teelo nodded vigorously. The thought of spending another night, let alone days, out here in the Tusken's backyard was a hard no for all of them.
"Anchorhead it is," I confirmed.
The rest of the "dinner" was a quiet affair. The initial silence was heavy, thick with unspoken horrors. But as the cheap soup warmed their bellies and the fire pushed back the desert chill, a fragile sense of calm settled over the group. Jax started talking again, haltingly, about her farm, about the vaporators they'd been so proud of. Corr grunted a few words about a son who'd joined the Imperial Navy, his voice a mix of pride and shame. Even Teelo stopped crying, just listening to the human voices, the familiar cadence of shared misery slowly morphing into a tentative, weary companionship.
I just sat back, finishing my shitty nutrient bar, and watched the fire. It wasn't happy. It wasn't a victory celebration. But for a little while, in the middle of a fucking dune sea, surrounded by the ghosts of the day, it was warm. And sometimes, that's enough.
___
A/N: I won't tell people to join my patreon just yet. I will notify readers when I have advanced chapters over there.
You can join in as free members through. (https://www. patreon .com/ AbstractoX)
Also discord is open for all to join in for a community of like-minded readers!