Small feet paced quietly along the metal floor, and the buzzing and whirring of the cockpit's controls had Aeyla Noebii's hands fidgeting together incessantly. How long had her mother been gone now? Alota had assured her daughter that the mission would not take more than an hour, but as far as the young togruta girl could tell, it had been far longer than that. Aeyla was merely five; she hardly knew what the job of a bounty hunter entailed, nor if that was what Alota was even doing at the moment. She was never allowed to sit in on her mother's calls with the new, budding republic.

You're too young, she would say. You won't understand until you're older.

Like hell she wouldn't. Aeyla was young, but she could sense when something was amiss, when her mother wouldn't tell the truth. She had always been able to see through deception, no matter how great or small it was. Like a sixth sense, it always stunned Alota when her only child was able to call her out, not even seconds after she had finished speaking. Of course, she had her thoughts; Alota had always known Force-sensitive people, as long as she could remember, and Aeyla had many of the same mannerisms they had displayed. The child's intuition was spot on, and her reflexes were astounding, even for a Noebii.

Aeyla huffed, golden eyes glinting in frustration as she plopped to the ground, her arms folding across her small chest. She wasn't amused in the slightest; she wanted to help her mother do whatever it was she did, not stay stuck in a starship, playing the waiting game until Alota returned! There was only so much she could do, as a five-year-old, and Alota's medical droid, MD-5, was hardly suitable company.

Staring at the door before her, she listened closely for footsteps approaching. Aeyla was small and thin, with long, lanky limbs, and bright orange skin. The upper half of her face was highlighted in white markings, custom to her people, and her lips were a darker shade than the rest. Framing her face, was a set of dark red montrals and lekku, the montrals tiny points atop her head, the lekku barely reaching past her shoulders. The stripes upon them were white, like the markings on her face, and traveled down the lekku in upward-pointing arrows until reaching the tips, which were completely white. Her clothing was simple, comfortable, and in neutral browns and greys, perfect for the speed of their lives as Alota flew them thru galaxies.

"Mooooom."

Aeyla groaned, kicking her feet out in front of her, and her arms fell to her sides, hands laying flat against the cool floor. Her patience was wearing thin; she took after her mother in more ways than one, and her lack of patience, her need to have everything done quickly and efficiently, was the first sign that she was a Noebii. All through their line–her mother, her aunt, and even grandmother–had been impatient to a fault. Perhaps it was a good thing, too; her grandmother, Roenae, had lived through the Clone Wars, an informant and Force-sensitive woman. She had great potential as a jedi, as Aeyla heard it. However, her stubbornness, her inability for abide by the rules set forth by the old Order, disqualified her almost immediately from training. It was fortunate, however. Had she completed her training, she would have been slain among the rest of the jedi, ending the Noebii line permanently.

"Mistress Aeyla? Where have you gone too? Mistress Alota instructed me to serve your dinner in the event she did not return."

Tearing her eyes from the door, she watched as MD-5 drew toward her, his fluid movements very unbeknownst of a droid. It was Alota's special modifications that gave him the abilities; on the run as they were often enough, she needed her medical droid to be in the best condition possible to aid her as he did.

"Mom's not back." Her irritation was evident, and the droid cocked his head at his mistress' statement. "When is she coming back?"

MD-5 could not answer. "I do not know, Mistress Aeyla, but your mother left you in my care until she returned from her mission."

Aeyla was unimpressed, but she steadily got to her feet, grunting, and she brushed the dust off her bum, slowly shuffling toward the droid. "She should have been back by now. Something's wrong."

"Mistress, please," MD-5 said, patting Aeyla between her montrals as she walked to him. "Mistress Alota has everything under control; she knows what she is doing and she knows what risks the job entails. She would not have been entrusted had Skywalker and Organa not believed she was best for the job."

Skywalker? Organa? Aeyla had heard the names mentioned many times before. They were saviors of the galaxy, they and countless others, and it only had Aeyla wondering what it was that they had asked Alota to do. They were far away from the capital of the new republic, in the farthest reaches of the galaxy on a desolate planet that barely had any Empire control…then what was it that Alota was doing?

Regardless of what MD-5 said, Aeyla knew something was wrong. She could feel it, no matter how much the droid reassured her that Alota was fine. It wasn't something she could explain, nor discover from where it came, but Aeyla knew it was a feeling that could not be ignored.

MD-5, with his hand still on her head, turned away toward the sleeping quarters of the ship, where not only would Aeyla sleep, but also take her meals. Alota wasn't afforded a large vessel; while a bounty hunter did make good pay, she hardly worked for the profession like she used to. In truth, her last big job had been aboard an Imperial Star Destroyer, but when one thing led to another, and she ended up fighting with the Rebel Alliance rather than against them, well, the pay wasn't that great.

Still, the chance for freedom had far outweighed the price of Skywalker handed directly to Vader.

Aeyla hadn't understood any of it. She knew there were bad guys, and the good guys fought to bring peace back to the galaxy, but beyond that, her five year old mind did not quite comprehend. Be that as it may, the inkling that continued to gnaw at her as she followed MD-5 to the sleeping quarters, the doubt she had that her mother was safe, it was too much to ignore. She stopped completely, and when the droid's hand fell from her head, he too stopped, pausing to glance at the young girl curiously, noting the resolute expression on her face, and the determined glint in her eye.

"Mistress Aeyla, it's too dangerous."

She didn't wait around for him to address her any further. She knew where the door controls were, and she knew that MD-5 would not be able to catch up with her, even as graceful as he might have been. Darting toward the ship's main doors, she reached out for the switch, and yet, before her fingers even touched the surface, it was as though she had willed the doors open, leading to the sandy deserts of the outside.

"Mistress, no!"

Aeyla didn't listen. As the droid stayed in the doorway, unwilling to step into the sand, her legs propelled her quickly, chest heaving as she struggled to breath in the sweltering heat. Having no idea what planet they were actually on, all she could tell that she was on the outskirts of a small city, the horizons surrounding covered in sand as far as the eyes could see. And yet, she did not stop.

Squinting in the light, the city grew larger as she approached, and yet her small legs could only take her so far without fatiguing. However, unseen to her, wreckage of what appeared to be a speeder, stuck out of the ground at an odd angle, and though she stepped over it at first, her foot caught on it at the last second, and she tumbled, face-first, into the sandy ground, grunting as she hit her head roughly. Dazed and confused, it took a moment before the young girl struggled up, and coughing a few times, spitting out a mouthful of sand, her golden eyes fixed on the city before her, still looking so far, but much closer than before. She layed for a moment, catching her breath, before pushing herself to her knees, hands resting on her lap as her small shoulders heaved. Behind her, the ship was well out of range, and MD-5 wouldn't dare make the trip to her. The sand damaged him something fierce, and it took ages to get it completely out of his joints. The complaining was incessant, and Alota hardly had the patience to deal with him when he was grating with sand. Aeyla was thankful that he refused to leave the ship nowadays.

Enough laying around.

With a grunt, Aeyla heaved herself to her feet, and set off again, ignoring the minute pain in her ankle. The city wasn't as far as it appeared; perhaps it was the desert that distorted the air, that messed with her eyes. She could not trust them, not when she was outside city walls, and taking a deep breath, the inkling that she felt within her, the small, niggling voice that was ever present within her, as long as she could remember. It was the voice that strengthened her, gave her power that she couldn't understand, and now, it showed her the way, drew her toward her mother.

And the men who surrounded her.

—

"Now, gentlemen, can't we settle this over a drink?"

Mos Eisley.

According to the reports given to her by Leia Organa, there was still a lingering threat of the Empire within the city on the desert planet, Tatooine. Naturally, Alota had been up to the task; she may have been a bounty hunter, but her ways with a blaster were unparalleled, and her charm got her through a number of sticky situations when peace was the preferred option. However, with a throng of Empire loyalists surrounding her, a plethora of blasters pointed at her face, she hardly thought that charm would win her over, this way.

Tall and gangly, just like her daughter, Alota sported casual, inconspicuous wear, with a blaster strapped to each of her thighs. Her hands were encased in brown leather, her shirt an off-white with years of dirt and bloodshed. Even now, her left sleeve sported a fresh stain of her own blood. Across her face, she wore an eyepatch over her right eye–the testament of her time fighting against the Empire–while her left, golden in color, took on a steely glint, lips curved into a mischievous grin. Her skin was bright orange, a few shades darker than Aeyla's, and her montrals and lekku where a deep violet in color, the white markings matching her daughter's perfectly.

"The hell we can." The man who spoke was a stormtrooper, one of the remaining on Tatooine, and he was far closer to her than the rest of the broken battalion. His shoulders squared, her marched toward her, shoving the end of his blaster against her chest, and Alota grunted, rolling her singular eye, an index finger running along the barrel as she moved his weapon aside.

"I hate to break it to ya," Alota drawled, casting her glance to the men on either side of the leader, "but the war is over. The Empire lost. Now, I don't want to kill ya, but if you're not going to surrender, I might not have a choice."

Around her, the stormtroopers laughed, her threat empty and unintimidating, and the leader, once again, shoved the tip of his blaster straight into her chest, a jolt of fear running down her spine. She had been in worse situations before–the last year of the Galactic Civil War was proof enough. However, now she had a daughter, with no father to raise her should Alota be killed, and she couldn't bear the thought of leaving Aeyla on her own, so far away from the New Republic.

"I die, and the Republic'll send someone after me, ya see," she continued, relying on her bullshitting to get out of the situation. The laughing tapered off, and Alota could tell that their postures stiffened again, feeling the blaster pressed even harder against her chest. She let her words hang in the air as she assessed the situation. She was skilled with her blasters, she knew that, and she was Force-sensitive enough to use a bit of her power to push them off of her–thanks to Skywalker, who had taught her some basic, self-defense during the last parts of the war. Still, there were about six or seven soldiers surrounding her, and while she might have been able to push off a few of them, there would still be several to take care of.

And then there was the abandoned cantina in which she was cornered. It wasn't familiar, and it must not have been a heavily-trafficked place to have been shut down in the past few years, so it was unlikely that anyone would hear their altercation, should it come.

"I doubt that," said the leader. "You're just some run-of-the-mill bounty hunter, togruta. Replaceable and forgettable. Just like the Rebel scum."

The hell. The desert must have really addled their brains.

It looked like there wasn't going to be any more negotiating with these idiots. The circle around her seemed to tighten as the drew nearer, and she anxiously awaited the leader's signal. Alota was thinking quickly now, but her features were impassive, the only sign of her thoughts a clever smirk across her lips.

"Say your prayers."

Here we go.

Closing her eyes, Alota inhaled deeply, waiting for the sound of blasters to pervade her senses. However, beyond them, she felt a presence, young and vibrant and oh so full of life, traveled toward her quickly, a sense of panic flowing from the small form. Alota's breath caught in her chest as her eyes flew open just as quickly as they had closed, and looking beyond the leading stormtrooper, she saw the door behind him slide right open, a small, yet gangly girl with golden, fearful eyes, standing in the doorway.

"Mama!"

Aeyla's voice rang throughout the abandoned cantina, and suddenly, the stormtroopers turned, blasters aimed at the girl. With a feral growl, Alota pulled her blasters from their holsters, taking down two of them with a single shot from each of her weapons, watching them crinkle to the ground, motionless. Aeyla managed to deflect the shots fired; from what Alota could see, the air around her seemed to bend, forming a cocoon of energy, shattering the blasts into a thousand tiny pieces. The stormtroopers paused, glancing at their weapons, and Alota charged, headfirst, between them, bashing the back of their heads with the butts of her weapons. Swearing loudly, they crumpled to the ground, hands reaching for the base of their necks as Alota cleared them easily, jumping onto the steps next to her daughter.

"Aeyla, what are you doing here?!" she cried, aiming a blaster at one of the remaining stormtroopers. "I told you to stay with MD-5!" Shielding Aeyla from the remaining enemies, Alota gritted her teeth, firing blast after blast at the stormtroopers, narrowly avoiding getting hit, herself. Holstering one, she grabbed a round, metal ball from her belt, squeezing several of the buttons upon it at once, and lobbed it in the center of the room before stooping to grab a hold of her daughter, darting from the building as fast as her legs would carry her. With a yelp, Aeyla held onto her mother tightly, her head poking over Alota's shoulder, hearing the terrified yells of the soldiers within, seconds before a fire inferno blasted from the door, sending several of the stormtroopers flying into the alleyway walls.

"You weren't back! I was afraid! MD-5 said you were okay, but I knew you weren't! I could feel it!" Tears welled up in Aeyla's eyes at the thought of losing her mom, and though Alota was still irritated that she had disobeyed, she was thankful that her daughter was with her, safe and sound.

"Thank you for coming, sweet," Alota said, holding tightly onto Aeyla as she ran. Navigating her way through Mos Eisley wouldn't be a problem, but the closer she stuck to the shadows, the happier she would be when they left the city. "But you don't have to worry about me, I had everything under control."

"Yeah, right," Aeyla pouted, resting her head on Alota's shoulder. "Who were those men in the funny hats?"

Out of earshot and harm's way, Alota allowed herself to slow her pace, catching her breath and lowering Aeyla carefully to the ground. Kneeling to be on eye-level with the girl, Alota caught Aeyla's eyes, a small frown curving her lips at the tears that spilled down her daughter's cheek. She raised her hand, gingerly wiping away her tears.

"Bad men, little one," she murmured. "Some of the last of the Empire."

She could see the blank expression on Aeyla's face, not understanding what it was Alota said. She was still young, and knew enough to know that the Empire was bad, but there was still so much to tell her. So much to explain to her.

"Okay…" Aeyla said uncertainly. Her hands twisted together, and she chewed on her tongue, as though looking for the right words to say. She knew Alota was in trouble, but how? She didn't understand it at all, but maybe her mother would.

"I knew you needed help, mama. I could feel it. Why could I feel it?" She paused. "Something told me you were in trouble, and it helped me find you. It protected me from their blasters."

Alota pursed her lips, still on eye-level with Aeyla. It was the Force. It was always the Force. She was no jedi–there hadn't been any in the past years, until Skywalker came along–and she wasn't exactly sure what she could do to help her daughter understand. There was an untapped talent within Aeyla's blood, and if it was something she wanted to pursue, then Alota would help her. But she would need someone much more knowledgeable than she…

"I have a friend who can tell you, sweet. He knows what it is, and he can help you."

Aeyla's eyes glowed. "Who?"

"Luke Skywalker."