Chapter 10

The Mos Eisley market district was always a hive of activity and this day was no different. The streets were congested with stalls, carts of wares, and throngs of citizens going about their shopping. It was barely possible to hear one's own thoughts over the din of merchants hawking their goods and arguing with customers over their prices.

Even on an ordinary day, the crowded market would have put Obi-Wan on edge, but the discovery of the tracking beacon on Lorna's ship made him devote most of his senses to scanning for threats. His eyes remained straight ahead, in all appearances just another person passing through, but he kept the Force attuned to the beings around them. He wanted to be prepared to detect anyone whose attention lingered too long.

He believed her when she insisted the tracker had not been on the ship when she arrived, but it was disconcerting that someone had placed it there afterward. That meant someone here on Tatooine was already looking for her. Or for her friends, seeing as how it was their ship. He wondered if Lorna really knew what she had gotten herself involved in befriending smugglers for the Pyke Syndicate.

Above all, he had to make sure his presence here stayed hidden.

After leaving the eopie in its usual stall, Obi-Wan set off with Lorna, each of them carrying a large sack of pallies. Their first stop was the fruit vendor Obi-Wan typically sold his produce to. Once the pallies were delivered and the earned peggats were in hand, Obi-Wan began to make his usual stops for his staples: nuna eggs and meat, flour to make haroun bread, chupa beans, and a small selection of spices to add flavor to their dishes.

"I have one more stop to make," he told Lorna after he'd finished. "It won't take long."

He retrieved a small bag of pallies that he'd set aside from the rest of the crop and approached the last vendor he needed to visit.

"Good morning, Deva," he called amiably to a dark-skinned woman behind a small stall adorned with aromatic herbs.

"Ah, Ben, happy to see my favorite pallie farmer. Come for your usual blend?" The stout, elderly woman's weather-worn features crinkled as she smiled at them from behind an array of colorful tins.

"Indeed, I have," Obi-Wan replied with a small smile as he handed Deva the bag of pallies. "I find myself in need of a refill."

"Best pallies in Mos Eisley," Deva remarked, pulling out a small tin. The aroma of the leaves drifted to his nostrils as she opened it and began measuring out a portion into a medium-sized satchel. "Not many around these parts request sapir tea, but it makes a fine brew. Just the right amount of spice and sweetness, " she added with a wink.

"An old friend turned me on to it." He smiled politely but held out his hand for the satchel, hoping the woman wouldn't try to draw them into more conversation.

"Who's this nice young lady with you?" Deva asked, handing him the tea.

"Ah, this is my new farm hand. She's from Anchorhead. Came here looking for work, so I've brought her on to help out."

Lorna smiled warmly at Deva. "I'm Lorna. Nice to meet you, Deva."

"Nice to meet you, too, dear. Mind what Ben here tells you, and keep these delicious pallies coming my way," Deva said.

"I'll do my best, ma'am. I hope to learn much from him," Lorna replied with a sideways glance in his direction.

Deva's eyes shifted to Obi-Wan and took on a playful gleam. "What a lovely girl. You take good care of her, Ben." She gave him a knowing nod of approval.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Thank you, Deva. We should be on our way."

"Of course, of course," Deva said. "It was good to see you. Lorna, I hope to see you back again for the next batch."

As they walked away, Lorna leaned in close to him."I like her," she whispered in amusement.

"She means well," he murmured back. "Even if she is a terrible gossip."

Lorna let out a small snort then pursed her lips to conceal a giggle. He couldn't help stealing a glance at her in the rare moment of levity. Her lips spread in a wide grin that, he realized with chagrin, he saw too infrequently. Their eyes met and the glow of her smile directed at him was like a cascade of gentle warmth in the Force.

He dragged his gaze away, his smile fading. He was getting distracted.

"Perhaps we should stop by one of the junk dealer's shops now to get an estimate on the parts you need. Once we know how many credits we're working with, we can form a plan to fix your ship," he said.

Walbur's Starship Emporium sprawled across a dusty lot on the outskirts of Mos Eisley's spaceport, a ramshackle collection of metal sheds and open-air yards filled with a multitude of ship parts. The main building was crafted from a repurposed freighter hull, its faded paint barely legible beneath years of sand-blasted wear. Inside, narrow aisles overflowed with shelves of components that were haphazardly stocked by a brigade of DUM-series pit droids.

At the center of the organized chaos sat Walbur himself, a purple-hued Dug with a cybernetic eye, perched behind a cluttered desk. Obi-Wan had chosen to bring Lorna to Walbur's Emporium based on its reputation for fair pricing. All those trips to the cantina for eavesdropping had produced useful information after all.

"Hello there," he called to the Dug as they approached the desk.

"Hmph. How can I help you today?" Walbur grumbled, his tendrils flapping against his snout.

"I've compiled a list of parts I'm interested in. I'd like an estimate, please," Lorna said, passing the datapad over the desk.

Walbur took it in one of his hand-like feet, the delicate parts of his cybernetic eye coming into focus to read it even as his good one remained trained on them.

"This is quite a list," he said, the mechanical eye whirling to glare at Lorna. "Might take me some time to see what I got and run the numbers. Stay here. Don't touch anything." He hopped off his stool and shuffled off on his back legs, taking the datapad with him.

Lorna looked at Obi-Wan and shrugged, then her eyes began scanning the shop. He did the same, letting his senses expand as he checked for any potential threats or problems. Through the Force, he felt her tense slightly and a fraction of a second later two human pilots rounded the corner of a tall shelf nearby.

"…had my ship searched by one the other day. Those sons of mudscuffers are scary. It's like they can read your mind," one was saying to the other as they browsed the shelves.

"I heard they carry lightsabers like the Jedi used to," his friend said, picking up a power converter and turning it over to examine it.

Lorna stilled beside him, then turned her face away from the pilots. They exchanged a knowing look, agreeing to look preoccupied while listening to the conversation. His eyes roamed the shelf closest to him while his ears honed in on the pilots' voices.

"I heard they used to be Jedi. The ones that were loyal to the Emperor," the first pilot explained.

"Well, whatever they are, they're hell-bent on finding more of those Jedi traitors. You know, there are some pretty big bounties out just for information on them."

Obi-Wan could see Lorna's fists clench at her sides when the second pilot spoke of the Jedi as traitors. He placed his hand atop hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. She didn't look at him, but her fist relaxed slightly, and she continued feigning interest in the parts in front of her.

"Hey, if you want to go chasing after Jedi, be my guest. Personally, I don't want anything to do with either the Jedi or the Inquisitors. I'm staying out of it," the first pilot said, and the two men passed by Obi-Wan and Lorna, their conversation turning to other matters as they wandered out the door.

His eyes shifted to Lorna's again, and he saw the tension and apprehension there. He sent feelings of reassurance to her in the Force, despite his own unease at what the pilots had said.

Walbur returned then and handed the datapad back to Lorna. "You're looking at about three hundred and fifty peggats for these parts. I might be able to get you down to three hundred if you don't mind some aftermarket stuff in there. Your ship will run, but without all the bells and whistles, especially if it was modded."

Lorna's face showed only a hint of disappointment. "The Jawas offer was lower," she said turning to Obi-Wan.

"Jawas? Ha! Those scavengers might be cheaper but they won't guarantee the parts are in working order like I will. And that's only if they have all these parts in inventory, which they won't," Walbur said.

"Thank you for your time," Lorna told him.

"No one else is going to give you this kind of deal on these parts, not without trying to hustle you," Walbur huffed.

Obi-Wan sensed that beneath his sour demeanor, Walbur was not being deceitful. This was probably going to be the best deal they were going to get. The Jawas might have had a lower offer, but by the time Lorna accumulated the credits she needed, those parts would be long gone, if they weren't already.

"We'll be back if we decide to take your offer," he told Walbur.

"Offworlders. Tsk. Wasting my time…" the Dug shook his head, tendrils swaying as he muttered and returned to his perch behind the desk.

Obi-Wan led the way back towards the eopie stall at a brisk pace, Lorna keeping step beside him. He kept his silence, knowing that the crowded streets were no place for the discussion they needed to have. As they neared a congested intersection, he spotted the source of the blockage–a dewback pulling a cart laden with water rations. His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene, noticing a lurca hound nearby, its aggressive barks directed at the increasingly agitated dewback.

"Hey, lady! Get your hound out of here, he's spooking my mount!" the elderly water vendor riding the dewback called as he gripped the reins, fighting to keep control of the creature.

A well-dressed woman, who stood nearby chatting with a friend, shot a disdainful look at the man. "He's just playing," she said.

"The nerve of some people," Lorna whispered to Obi-Wan.

Predictably, the hound nipped at the fleshy shoulder of the dewback, causing it to groan in alarm and rear back on its hind legs. The cart overturned, spilling water rations everywhere and the vendor was thrown from the saddle to the ground. He cried out as his back hit the hard dirt and then again when he attempted to pull himself up.

The woman rolled her eyes and pressed a button on a remote she held in her hand, activating the hound's behavioral collar. The lurca immediately stopped its growling and returned to the woman's side. It panted happily, oblivious, and the woman returned to her conversation, equally oblivious.

Dozens of passersby went around the man with his overturned cart, going about their business. Obi-Wan's heart went out to the elderly vendor, who was protesting in pain on the ground. He moved to assist the man, then paused. He reached out with the Force, searching for any eyes that might be lingering on them.

If the wrong person is watching, it might draw attention to—

Before he could even finish the thought, Lorna was rushing forward to the man.

"Sir, are you okay?" she asked, coming to one knee beside him. "Are you injured?"

"Bah, it's just this old back of mine!" the man exclaimed, waving his hand in frustrated embarrassment.

Lorna placed a hand between his shoulder blades and helped him sit up, her brows knit with concern.

"I'll be fine, just sore for a couple of days," the man said with a scowl.

Obi-Wan shook his head in self-reproach. Kindness was hard to come by in Mos Eisley but there was little risk of being discovered as anything other than rare do-gooders by helping the man. He moved to assist Lorna, gripping the man under his arms to lift him to his feet.

"Hey! Get away from there!" the man shouted suddenly as he got on his feet, pointing behind him. A Rodian child, no more than twelve years old, was stuffing water rations into the pockets of his threadbare clothes. He wasn't even wearing shoes, despite Rodians being a species that usually needed them. He was about to take off running with his pilfered rations when Lorna said,

"Hold on there, kiddo."

Obi-Wan felt the Force persuasion Lorna had directed at the boy. It had been subtly implemented, just enough to make the boy stop in his tracks. Some Jedi were very heavy-handed in their application of the technique, but Lorna's had a nuance that even experienced Jedi would have trouble replicating.

Lorna walked up to the boy, smiling kindly and squatting down so she could speak to him at eye level.

"Give that water back, you urchin! You're not stealing from me!" the vendor cried.

"How much water have you there?" Lorna asked the boy.

The Rodian withered under Lorna's scrutiny, his protruding lips beginning to tremble. He emptied his pockets, revealing four cartons. "Please don't turn me in! My mama hasn't had anything to drink since yesterday! She gave all our rations to me and my little sister. Please, you can have it back, just don't get me arrested!"

"A thief's a thief!" the old man growled, reaching to snatch the water cartons from the Rodian.

So much for the idea that kindness breeds kindness.

"Now, hold on a minute," Lorna said, placing her hand gently on the vendor's forearm. "How much are these cartons worth?"

"Twenty wupiupi."

Lorna blanched. "Will you take Imperial credits?"

The vendor's face pinched with distaste. "If that's all you got. I know a guy who can do currency exchange. I can't afford to be picky these days."

"Then I'll purchase the water," Lorna replied.

She pulled the credits out of her pack and handed them to the vendor, then took the water cartons and handed them to the Rodian boy, lowering herself to his level once more.

"No one is ever this nice without having a reason. What do you want from me?" he asked.

Lorna smiled. "Only that you remember to show the same kindness if you're ever in a position to do so."

The boy didn't quite smile back, but his confused expression eased and he stood a little straighter. "Well… thanks, lady. My mama will appreciate this."

With that, he scampered off down the street, weaving deftly through the pedestrians.

"That was well done, Lorna," Obi-Wan said to her quietly, and he meant it. It had been a remarkable display of empathy, intuition, and problem-solving that would make any Jedi Master proud.

"It's just basic decency," she said shaking her head, but her cheeks flushed pink.

Together, they helped the disgruntled vendor right his cart and refill it with the water rations. Something shifted within Obi-Wan as he watched Lorna loading the cartons, his eyes softening in acknowledgment of her unselfish act.. She continued to be pleasant with the old man, despite his indignant muttering, which only served to amplify the feeling.

Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to reevaluate his approach to the training he had promised.

"I had wondered where you got the tea from," Lorna said, as they rode out of the city. "I haven't had it since I was living at the Temple. It's been nice to drink it again."

"Deva is kind enough to keep some in stock for me, though it's not as popular here as it is on Core Worlds. It brings back memories of happier times, and there are so few comforts to be had here."

"I never thought I'd say it, but I actually miss the Temple food. I used to hate those nutrition bars Master Secura was always trying to get me to eat, but one of those sounds delicious right now," she said.

"Oh dear, my cooking skills must be worse than I thought if you're craving one of those," he replied, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

Lorna chuckled softly. "Well, even you cannot be good at everything."

"If you think you can do better, perhaps you should do the cooking for a change."

"Fine. I'll make dinner tonight," she shot back with a smiling glance at him over her shoulder.

The lively confidence in her voice as she said it made him grin. "Sounds lovely," he replied.

A comfortable silence fell over them as they continued on. With the city behind them, Obi-Wan finally let his guard drop a little, relaxing his posture to sway gently with the eopie's gait. A rare breeze blew from the east, brushing his hair across his forehead and wicking away the sheen of sweat that had collected there during the day's heat. He breathed in the rapidly cooling evening air, letting his thoughts go as the Force flowed through him.

Lorna hummed softly to herself, the melody carrying a rhythmic, almost mechanical quality. The low notes resonated through her body, their vibrations reaching his chest where it pressed lightly against her back. Though the song was unfamiliar to him, the tune was fascinating and her voice pleasant.

"What's that you're humming?" he asked.

Her back stiffened slightly and she abruptly stopped. He immediately regretted interrupting. "Sorry, I hadn't realized I had started."

"It's no problem. I was enjoying it. I've just never heard it before."

"Oh… it was just an old Corellian shipyard worker song. They call it Galan-Kalank music."

He couldn't help his surprise. "How have you come to know it?"

"I used to spend a lot of time in the Conservatorium at the Temple. I learned a lot of the galaxy's music there." There was a note of melancholy in her voice at the mention of the Conservatorium. He thought he could almost feel her mood plummet. Now he really wished he hadn't asked.

"It was quite nice," he said, hoping she might resume the tune, but the silence settled between them again.

The buzzing tension he could sense coming from Lorna told him she was no longer relaxed. He couldn't see her face from his seat behind her, but he could imagine the preoccupied expression she likely wore, lips pursed to one side and eyes narrowed, that he realized she often adopted when she was lost in her thoughts.

"Do you think the Inquisitors could truly be former Jedi?" she asked, before he had a chance to question her about her pensive mood.

Obi-Wan nodded to himself, unsurprised by her question. He wondered the same thing, after overhearing the pilots in the shop.

"We don't yet know how many there are other than the one you encountered," he answered, "but the pilots implied there are at least a few. For the Emperor to have so many fully-trained Force-sensitives at his disposal…"

"It could be that the Emperor had secretly trained these individuals before his rise to power. Which we can't rule out given what you've learned about the depths of his schemes," she said, her voice bleak.

"It's possible," he replied. "I suppose we cannot be sure whether he corrupted these Force users from within the Order or on his own. Either way, he now wields a dangerous weapon against the remaining Jedi."

"But after everything Palpatine did?" Lorna's voice was tight with disbelief. She half-turned to look at him, her eyes searching his face. "How could any Jedi turn to him?"

He understood why she didn't want to believe it. He hadn't wanted to either.

His hands clenched the eopie's reins as images of Anakin's face, twisted with rage, flashed in his memories.

I see through the lies of the Jedi. I do not fear the dark side as you do. I have brought peace, justice, freedom, and security to my new Empire.

The delusion. The sheer arrogance. He could still barely believe the Jedi he had trained had uttered such a thing, still hadn't fully accepted that Palpatine could have so thoroughly corrupted his friend.

He had known of his attachment to Padmé, of course. How could he not? The longing looks, the stolen moments–he had chosen to turn a blind eye, convincing himself that Anakin would eventually overcome this weakness.

But he had underestimated the depth of their bond, the desperation of Anakin's love. Padmé's pregnancy had been the catalyst, he realized now. Anakin's fear of loss, always his greatest vulnerability, had become an obsession. And Palpatine had known exactly how to exploit it.

A wave of anger surged through him–at Anakin for his weakness, at himself for his blindness, and at Palpatine for his manipulations. He forced his fingers to unclench, loosening his grip on the leather reins, just as he willed his mind to let go, loosening his hold on the anger within. Some of the tension released, flowing into the Force. Such thoughts led only to the Dark Side, he reminded himself bitterly.

The shadows of his past continued to loom over him, memories of pain and loss stirring restlessly in his thoughts. Trying to focus on anything else, his gaze came to rest on Lorna's profile as she turned to look at him. He observed the faint sprinkling of brown freckles across her cheeks and nose, how they complemented her olive skin and–

No. He didn't need to be focused on that either.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

"The fall of the Order probably left many Jedi confused, afraid, and alone, making them vulnerable. Some may have seen joining the Empire as their only chance for survival," he answered Lorna finally.

"That's no excuse," she said, her voice hard as she turned to face forward once again.

"No, it's not," he agreed. "The Dark Side is treacherous. It preys on our deepest fears and desires. It takes great strength to resist its call, especially in times of desperation. Strength that some..." he trailed off, thinking of Anakin, "...some Jedi may lack."

He sensed uncertainty in Lorna, though she remained quiet. He hesitated, caught between his instinct to avoid pressing the issue and the painful reality that his silence had contributed to Anakin's downfall. What if he failed her as spectacularly as he had his former Padawan? The thought hit him like a blaster bolt to the stomach.

At least with his former Padawan, he'd had years to attempt to understand his struggles. Lorna was still largely a mystery to him, her emotions an uncharted star system he wasn't sure he had the strength to navigate. But could he risk making the same mistakes again?

"We all face moments of doubt, moments when the Dark Side seems to offer an easier path," he finally offered, his voice rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat.

"Have you… have you ever felt the pull of the Dark Side?" she asked, her voice quiet.

"I have. In times of great loss," he answered honestly, the dull ache from those losses settling in his chest.

The moment Maul's red blade had pierced his Master's torso on Naboo, the Dark Side had tore through him like a laser, sharp and focused. He had tapped into its power, albeit briefly, in the ensuing duel, delivering his Ataru strikes with rage-fueled power. He had returned to himself before the end of the fight, but it had taken many months of meditation and reflection to recover from that nightmare.

And Satine… oh, how he had wanted to give in to the hatred that had burned inside him in the wake of her death. Maul, it seemed, had a way of bringing him to the precipice of moral disaster. And yet, he had resisted, choosing the path of a Jedi each time. In time, he had regained his balance even after those ordeals. It gave him comfort that he might crawl his way back from the recent traumas, as impossible as it seemed at the moment.

"But I persist in defying it," he added.

He waited while she processed his words, wondering if she would probe him further about his experiences, or share some of her own. His homestead appeared in the dim twilight then, signaling that they were nearing the end of their return journey. Without thinking, he nudged her Force signature with his, an invitation to share her thoughts. He felt her hesitate, her awareness flickering in acknowledgment of his suggestion. For a moment, he thought she might open up to him.

She withdrew, her mental walls solidifying once more.

"Thank you for your honesty," was all she said as he helped her slip from the eopie's back.