Dear Qui-Gon,

I chanced a visit to Mos Eisley today, since my vaporator is once again on the fritz and they didn't have the spare parts in Anchorhead. You will be shocked to learn that I have become quite the mechanic, and this time I did not require the assistance of Owen Lars to discern the problem.

I remember you telling me the old Jedi wisdom; "Trust in the Force, and it will provide." However, you were always quick to remind me that faith alone cannot fill one's belly, and it is important to look to the Living Force for guidance, rather than providence.

The Force cannot fix one's vaporator either it seems, and accordingly I've had to learn skills I never even dreamed I'd need. But even mastering the mechanics of a vaporator is not sufficient when the binary brain burns out, and I must return to civilization for spare parts.

If one could consider Mos Eisley civilization, since even the worst scum-streets of Coruscant would seem refined next to this spaceport which serves as a haven for bounty hunters, smugglers and thieves. And yet it seems I am one of them now, just another criminal hoping not to be caught or recognized.

I see the influence of the Hutts in Mos Eisley far more keenly than in Anchorhead – their slimy presence is everywhere, although I have yet to actually see one. Poverty is rife and slavery rampant, and for the first time I get a glimpse of what Anakin's life must have been like as a boy, in fear of the powerful crime families that controlled everything. The grip of the Empire is loose here, and I suspect that it will remain so whilst the Hutts do not interfere with their galactic rule.

So it was under the Republic, and I always thought such concessions were necessary to keep a democracy alive. But now I wonder…the Republic outlawed slavery in the Senate and yet treated with the Hutts all the while knowing their vile deeds and nature. How do we justify acts performed to serve the greater good if they were purchased with the suffering of the innocent?

I recall myself, Anakin and Ahsoka working to rescue Jabba's son from the Separatists, so that the Republic might have access to the trade routes of Hutt Space. I stood before Jabba, and chose not to see the Twi'lek dancer chained to his throne, although her lifeless eyes no doubt saw me. Once she may have dreamed of a Jedi rescuer, but perhaps many had come and gone, ignoring her as I did. Hindsight brings shame as well as clarity.

I recall Ahsoka questioning Anakin later about the mission – the poor child had no idea of his history – and he'd brushed her off with a flippant response. Was that when he'd begun to lose faith in the Order? When we had sent him on a mission to assist those who had once enslaved him – asked him to save the son of a creature who had stolen so many other sons from their father's arms?

And my dear Ahsoka…where are you now? Your abandonment of the Order has likely saved your life, and I am grateful for that. Do you mourn your old master as the rest of the galaxy does, or do you know, somehow can you sense that Anakin lives on in Vader?

But I remind myself that he does not – that any trace of Anakin has been obliterated by the dark lord who has taken up residence in his battered and burnt body. In Mos Eisley I sat in a bar for hours and watched the holonet – official addresses by the Emperor and Admiral Tarkin about the New Order, as it is called. Trade restrictions, military homogenization, and the introduction of regional governors to represent the Empire's interests in populous systems. All in the name of security and peace.

Vader is the spectre behind such reports, and the hunt for the Jedi traitors is well publicized. I saw my own face on a bounty hunter's callscreen, and can only hope my hood was low enough to conceal my identity. That is the biggest threat, that my presence here on Tatooine will be sold to agents of the Empire, and Vader himself will come to hunt me down as he has hunted so many others. It would lead him to wonder why I chose this planet, and Luke's discovery would be almost certain.

I am resolved not to return to Mos Eisley unless absolutely necessary, or until time and these blasted double suns has sufficiently altered my appearance. There are too many villains there anxious to pounce, and I will not be the brush-mouse caught in a trap.

I just hope my vaporator doesn't go bust again.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.