The Mos Espa Spaceport was almost a full day away, even when flying in the souped-up land speeder Anakin had constructed. Not only did they have to get up at an unholy hour in order to arrive at a sensible time, but they also had to stop halfway there for a short lunch break. Surprisingly, Anakin was in a pretty good mood during the entire ride, flying on the excitement of getting off that old ball of dust and sand again. The presence of his old master was nowhere near enough to abate Anakin's natural disdain for the place.
Luke seemed excited as well, though a large part of it was just swept up in the quiet buzz surrounding his father. In comparison, Obi-Wan was almost solemn.
The three of them had brought as many worthwhile items as could be found in Obi-Wan's hut in order to afford their escape, placing them in a little compartment beneath the twin seat. This all just cemented the fact that this really was the last time Obi-Wan would be in his hut. Of course, he restrained himself from feeling any sort of sentimentality or attachment for the place and the things he'd collected, but even then, he couldn't help but feel the realization set in that everything past this point would involve the galaxy as a whole, not just him and little Luke.
No longer was he old Ben, the wizard hermit out on the dunes. Once again he had to take the mantle of Obi-Wan Kenobi, and even more so to resume his mentorship over Anakin. Not that it had ever truly ended.
The Mos Espa spaceport winked into existence in the distance. The surrounding area was filled with small, bulbous sandstone huts fit for single families at best. Many held slaves or otherwise downtrodden and poor souls with nowhere else to go. Though Obi-Wan couldn't see the face of his former student, sitting with his arms slung around the younger man's hips with Luke squished in between, he could tell that Anakin was catching the slightest glimpses at the collection of simple huts.
One of those had once belonged to him, after all. Obi-Wan had never been to it himself, but his old master's description seemed to have been pretty much spot-on.
Thankfully, Anakin only bared to spare his former neighbourhood a single glance before zooming into the spaceport, swivelling out of the way of passing banthas and dewbacks, flying past slower vehicles, all the while keeping an ear out for the trembling directions Obi-Wan gave him in-between blasting horns and breighing animals.
To Obi-Wan, the situation was pretty much as bad as it got. Anakin seemed to delight in his swooshing, zig-zagging movements. His son was equally thrilled.
Maybe this was all a horrible idea and Obi-Wan should just have remained Old Ben.
Once they finally slid to a stop in front of a little Jawa's shop, Obi-Wan felt just about ready to hurl. However, since little Luke scattered around his feet, blabbering excitedly about how cool the ride had been, Obi-Wan found no opening to do so. Instead, he swayed on his feet and tried to stop Luke from making his head spin any worse. Seven years and he was already too old to ride a speeder like Anakin could fly one.
Speaking of Anakin, it had only been a matter of seconds before Anakin was haggling back and forth with the Jawa, describing the merits of his speeder, explaining how it was way better than any scooter currently on the market and that it would easily sell for several tens of thousands of credits to the right buyer. The Jawa could give him fifty credits, give or take.
Anakin's presence began to boil.
"Is that an insul-," was about as much as Anakin could say before Obi-Wan manifested at his side, hand clutching his metal arm in warning. His presence cooled to a simmer, accentuated by flashes of hot shame. "We need to get off-world. Seven thousand credits, at the least."
The Jawa gave a blurb of noise.
Anakin shook his head decisively. "Seven thousand."
The Jawa shot back a sound similar to the one he gave before, though shortened. Before Anakin could answer, it added another sound.
Anakin snorted. "You couldn't even buy a trip to the next city over with that." Casually, he raised his right hand, little- and ring finger folded beneath his thumb. "Seven thousand will do f-,"
Again, Obi-Wan's hand was on his arm, clutching tighter than before. Anakin winced. "Using the Force in such a manner is beneath us."
Gritting his teeth, Anakin said, "It's not enough. Not nearly. Even seven thousand credits is a steal for this." His metal hands clenched and unclenched, eyes flickering between Obi-Wan and the modified landspeeder. "If we just got ten thousand credits, we could easily hire a good starship to get there. A real one. I know you've got someone in mind, but with that, we could just hire one for us three. I can fly us wherever it is we're going."
Stroking his beard, Obi-Wan mused the offer. "Where we need to go, we'll need a smuggler," he glanced meaningfully at Anakin, "not a pilot."
Grumbling, Anakin turned back to the Jawa. After a few more minutes of haggling, they finally got the price up to 6 210 imperial credits, at which point Anakin's presence was once more bubbling. Had Obi-Wan not stood right by his side, overseeing every turn in the conversation, Anakin wouldn't have hesitated to wrangle the price out of the child-sized being. Whether physically or through the Force, Anakin couldn't really decide.
After walking away (practically dragging Luke away from the cool trinkets in the Jawa's shop), they spent an hour or so selling Obi-Wan's various items here and there. Some were worth next to nothing, others held real value. In the end, they were able to bolster their purse up to 7 330, an amount Obi-Wan seemed assured would be enough.
Then, there was only a matter of ensuring an escort.
"I understand the need for stealth," Anakin said, "but I don't see why we'd need to go here of all places to secure it." The absently disgusted look on his face was enough to tell Obi-Wan that Anakin was not a man who frequented cantinas. Now that he thought of it, Anakin could only ever be found inside one of the music-filled drought holes if there was a fight to be had or a lead to be tracked.
Speaking for himself, it would almost be strange if Obi-Wan didn't find himself inside a cantina every so often. It was mostly just to have something to do. Only occasionally to drown his memories. Occasionally.
The cantina the three of them stood outside was the largest in town, filled to the brim with enthusiastic jizz music, half-drunk scoundrels of the galaxy and shady deals. Even outside, the sound of music and the stench of various worldly and otherworldly droughts were almost overwhelming, defeated only by the swimming heat of the sands. Personally, Obi-Wan preferred smaller cantinas where he could engage in small talk with familiar regulars, but when it came to securing some form of transport off of Tatooine, there would be no better place. Especially since he already had a certain smuggler in mind.
"Am I to assume you'd rather wait outside and keep Luke company?" Obi-Wan asked.
Moving as one, the long-lost father and son turned to look at each other. Going only by the look on Luke's face, it was clear, should he be given the okay, he would run inside the cantina with nary a single thought of hesitation. Anakin sighed tiredly. "I'll take him for a walk or something. Though…" A conflicted frown crossed the scarred man's face. "Are you sure you'll be able to get a fair price? Unlike Yoda, you were hardly the type for bartering."
A fond smile found its way onto Obi-Wan's face at the thought of the old croon. One wouldn't take the little alien for a haggler, but, remarkably, he held a reputation as one of the Jedi order's most ferocious wranglers. Some more far-fetched rumours even went so far as to mention some occurrence where Yoda had spent six hours trying to reduce the price by only a single credit. Obi-Wan supposed that when you lived as long as he did, spending a few hours lowering the price of something was trivial.
Obi-Wan chuckled. "The price is of no concern. This smuggler and I have been in contact for a few months. I doubt he'd try to gouge the price at the last moment."
Anakin remained somewhat apprehensive, something Obi-Wan could understand too well. Most smugglers, much like bounty hunters, were low-born scum of the galaxy with little regard for the lives of their clients. In certain ways, the smuggler Obi-Wan had in mind was quite similar.
However, his exploits as a pilot made him worth the hassle.
Giving a final goodbye to Anakin and Luke, Obi-Wan headed inside the cantina. The second he did so, every fragile piece of entertainment that could be found on the desert world of Tatooine exploded onto his sensory organs. Music blasted loudly and rumboxously from a corner of the cantina where species from various home planets stood huddled together, utilizing their many parts to create a truly unique kind of music, the kind only found inside drought holes such as this. The music was further enhanced by the choking presence of various fumes clinging to the roof of the cantina.
A single breath was enough to tell Obi-Wan that he didn't know what a single one of these were. Even a longer study of the noxious cloud-concoction would yield no tangible results. Going by what the exotic inhabitants of the cantina were drinking, breathing and smoking, it seemed to consist of various kinds of alcohol and drugs. Whether they were illegal or legal was uncertain.
Obi-Wan had no intention of finding out. Instead, he let his keen gaze move smoothly over the cantina's patrons.
They were truly a varied bunch, with a substantial majority being made up of non-humans, which was usually quite rare, though less so out here. There were wolfmen, Twi-Leks, Rhodians, and the like. Not a single droid could be seen, but that wasn't too strange out here.
No, what drew Obi-Wan's attention most of all were the pair sitting in the back, among the other no-do-gooders. Most were scum without honour.
Obi-Wan couldn't call himself a good enough judge of character to tell whether this applied to the young Han Solo and his wookie companion or not. In reality, Obi-Wan would have liked to have known them for a bit longer before employing their services. When he first approached them, he had even gone so far as to mention that he may come to them with an immediate escape in mind. According to the young pilot, as long as he paid the right amount, they'd blast away all of Mos Espa.
Now was the time to make good on their acquaintance. Thankfully, they were in no immense hurry to leave straight away, which might make the two smugglers forgive their sudden additions.
Obi-Wan approached them with purpose, his cloak billowing behind him. Soon, he was standing right beside the two. Their heated conversation quickly turned to silence as they noticed his presence. They turned to him in interest.
Han Solo himself was a rather young man, giving off the sense that, despite his clear talent, he had only just now begun his career as a smuggler. With dark hair and a glint in his eye, he seemed to hold the same kind of confident cockiness that Anakin had possessed before everything went wrong. Yes, in all aspects removed from the Force, Han Solo reminded Obi-Wan quite strongly of Anakin.
His companion, the Wookie, was large even while sitting. He was easily a head taller than even the largest human with brawn to match. Although his outer skin was covered in a thick layer of fur that must have left him with a perpetual heat-stroke on this planet, beneath was an equally immense expanse of muscle, quite enough to rip a man limb from limb. Obi-Wan might have been more intimidated if he hadn't already met creatures far more frightening than a mere Wookie.
So, once they turned to him, Obi-Wan didn't hesitate to speak first. "Your services are required, as we decided. Are you capable of leaving the planet before sundown?"
Solo made a show of scratching his head in thought. "Tomorrow's the best I can do. That's no trouble, is it? Doesn't seem like you've got any imperial goons on your ass, so you should be fine with waiting a day or so." Obi-Wan would rather avoid it, but demanding they leave today might incur higher costs than a stay at a hotel might, so he simply kept quiet. "Is the cargo still as is?"
Obi-Wan drew his lips tight. "Not quite. There's been a bit of a change."
The Wookie gave a warbled grunt. "You've got that right, Chewie." Solo turned to look meaningfully at Obi-Wan.
"Myself, another man and a young boy."
"And the destination?"
"It remains unchanged."
Solo's eyes hardened slightly. "Will you still be able to pay the price? It'll have to increase a little, of course. Let's say… eight thousand credits? Should you want to return to our old plan, then the regular price of five thousand will be just fine."
Obi-Wan gulped and tightened his hands into fists. The small purse containing 7 330 credits weighing down his inner pocket suddenly felt very light. This much wouldn't be any issue if Obi-Wan could barter down the price to an acceptable level. However, he doubted even yoda could haggle it down below 7 000. Furthermore, they still had to pay for a place to sleep for the night. Maybe if he sold a lightsaber… No, that would only attract more unwanted attention. The moment someone questioned how he got ahold of one would spell his doom. Manipulating the mind of the young smuggler with the Force was completely out of the question as well.
Had he only had a few more years, Obi-Wan might have been able to save up enough to get the three of them off-world without any fuss. As is, all he could do was open up his cloak and retrieve the small credit pouch.
He placed it on the table.
Before a single person could say eyes on it, the large Wookie had swiped it off the table. In a mere second, the purse's contents were counted. The Wookie brayed to Solo.
"Looks like you're a few credits short," the young smuggler said. "Any chance you've got the rest hidden elsewhere?"
"I'm afraid not," Obi-Wan admitted. "This is the most I can give you. We have nothing else. Unless you accept peace in the galaxy as a currency?"
Solo grinned politely. "Not quite." Before Obi-Wan could try any further arguments, the Wookie gave a subdued roar. Solo turned to him in surprise. "What is it?" Through a complicated series of grunts, howls and growls, Obi-Wan stood witness to how Solo's expression turned from confused, to surprised, to furtive. Finally, he said, "Well, you've got that right, Chewie. Change of plans, this'll be enough. Hell, since you'll need a place to sleep for the night," Solo removed three Imperial Credit chips, each worth 30, and placed them on the table, "this should hold you over."
Obi-Wan stared suspiciously at the credits for a moment before sliding them off the table and into his pocket. He couldn't be sure what the Wookie said to convince his human partner, but for now, Obi-Wan could only nod at him appreciatively.
"Return here at nine 'o clock tomorrow morning."
With a quick goodbye, Obi-Wan left them behind, thumbing the three credits in his pocket warily.
Would they really be able to obtain a room for the night with this? Had it only been Obi-Wan, then… No, thinking in those lines was a waste of time. Instead, he let his eyes run over the people outside of the cantina. Anakin and Luke were nowhere in sight. For a second, Obi-Wan could feel his heart beat just a little faster. A shake of the head dispelled any such emotional thoughts. The very idea that Anakin would take this moment to steal away Luke and leave was preposterous.
Obi-Wan sent out a pulse in the Force, feeling how it touched the people on the street and their animals, the living Force within them resonating silently and reverently. This pulse passed through many before it finally found its mark. Obi-Wan could almost sense it before his pulse met him. It was a swirling storm of power, barely hidden. Days ago this storm would have been a frozen blizzard of sharp hail, but now, it had thawed into a warm summer storm. It might have just been Obi-Wan's imagination, but somehow, he could tell that the storm was subdued out of respect for the presence it walked beside.
A small flicker of hope, dancing like a newly born flame.
The storm, in all its malevolence, didn't even touch it for fear of extinguishing it.
Obi-Wan watched with fondness as Anakin's presence reared and noticed Obi-Wan's light touch. If he wanted to, Obi-Wan could simply remain where he was and let Anakin and Luke come to him. However, he had no need to do that, since their ship wouldn't leave until tomorrow. Obi-Wan recalled the name of the hotel Han Solo had suggested to him before he left: The Three Moons. Had the one who recommended it not been a smuggler, Obi-Wan would have chosen something else. Since that wasn't the case, Obi-Wan found himself trusting the words of the young man quite highly.
Not that he'd given him any actual directions towards said hotel.
A sigh fell from Obi-Wan's lips as he began walking towards Anakin.
Anakin, for his own part, was bubbling with joy. Until now, he hadn't actually had any real moment to just talk to his son, to find out who he was and what he wanted to do.
"I want to be a pilot, " he'd said.
His son. A pilot! Just the thought took Anakin many years into the past, back when he was just a boy himself. A boy with a dream and nothing more. Nothing except for the Force. Apart from the obvious, Anakin saw much of himself in the boy. As might be expected there were many differences as well, but the most striking parts were all commonalities.
They both had an inherent trust in their senses and instincts, beyond what would be expected for any typical Force-user. In a situation where Obi-Wan might lay down the lightsaber to let his words fight for him, Anakin would simply charge ahead, assured that his feelings - his emotions - were in the right. At the time, Anakin had seen this impulsivity of his as a strength. In times of stress and uncertainty, following his gut usually brought him the best results since it brought him into unity with the living Force.
Much like how times of war required a government to unify around a single, strong leader capable of making fast decisions, Anakin usually found himself at his best during battles where it was clear who the enemy was.
The trouble came in times of peace, when the sole leader had amassed too much power to be dethroned.
When Anakin was placed in a battle of wits, he had no choice but to try to change it to a battle of lightsabers. That was the only way he could win.
But that way of thinking was inherently wrong. He wasn't wrong to trust in the living Force, of course not, but he had made the mistake of relegating his entire arsenal to life-or-death situations. He had no talent for battles of wits. When faced with a man far more glib of the tongue than he, a man he could not imagine fighting, all he could do was submit to him.
Anakin grit his teeth.
He could remember thinking that back then, too. When he first began to doubt the Jedi. No, rather, when he was first made to doubt the Jedi.
His first instinct had been to call for Obi-Wan. Simple as that. While Anakin had no talent for wits and cunning, Obi-Wan had his back. All the same, once a battle did occur, the powerhouse between the two - the one most connected to the living Force - was none other than Anakin. They protected each other. But what happened when they were separated?
Anakin ended up as a tongueless watch hound and Obi-Wan ended up as a fightless hermit.
But now they were together again. That did not mean that Anakin would repeat his mistake. Too long had he focused only on his talents, entrusting his weaknesses to others. Allowing himself to become a honed twin-bladed sword without a proper master. He could not allow that to continue. To continue being what he always had been was out of the question.
He had to be more.
He had to think for himself, become patient, grow stronger than ever before…
That way, he could protect those he held dear.
The hand Anakin held tightened, making him glance down at his son. The boy had a surprisingly serious expression on his face, which although not completely unusual for Luke in particular somehow felt especially strange. "Is something the matter?"
Luke shook his head gently, his sand-coloured bangs whipping back and forth. "I think you think too much."
An old hermit in a brown cloak stepped up to them. "I beg to differ. In fact, I believe it to be just the opposite."
Anakin disguised his desire to scowl with a wry smile. "Not too far off the mark, Obi-Wan." In truth, hearing Obi-Wan point out the heart of every fault Anakin had didn't feel too flattering, especially not since he recently came to that realization himself. It felt more like an insult than the typical playful banter. Worst of all, this was probably all in Anakin's head. They'd had similar exchanges innumerable times in the past. Why did it feel bad now?
While Anakin grumbled over such things, Obi-Wan explained their plan. Namely, that they would have to sleep at a hotel. The so-called Three Moons hotel, which was located somewhere in the city.
Anakin furrowed his brows. Hadn't he heard of that hotel before?
"Hey, I know where that is!" Luke piped up. "It's just down the street. I've never been in there, but sometimes it smells really good!"
Obi-Wan and Anakin shared a glance. "Show the way."
A few minutes later, the three of them stood before the Three Moons hotel. It was neither shabby nor immensely luxurious, simply average. To the three of them, this would do very well, not that any of them would complain over a bad bed. The only one worried was Obi-Wan, who was unsure if his credits would cover their expenses.
Though, that didn't mean Anakin was bereft of thought. His were just of a different sort.
It felt like there was something familiar about that hotel. Well, not so much the hotel itself. The name barely rang a bell and the logo on the front - three moons - was nothing he could recall with any clarity. The only reason the name made Anakin think of anything was because he and Luke had walked past it while waiting for Obi-Wan to finish, and at that moment, he had felt that very same sense of familiarity.
Now that he was even closer, that sense of familiarity was even stronger. Though, strangely, it seemed to come less so from the building itself than whatever was inside it.
Wary of potential enemies, Anakin sharpened his senses, metallic hand instinctively feeling for the lightsaber hidden underneath his clothes.
They entered.
"Good evening! Welcome to the Three Moons, how may I assist you?" a man said from behind the counter. His skin was dark, his head crowned by a short plume of dark, curled hair. But it wasn't his appearance, as normal as it was, that drew Anakin's attention. No, it was the man's presence. In the expanse of the Force it was hardly anything extraordinary or irregular, but, to Anakin…
"...Kitster?"