Chapter 1: Rescue in the Shadows
The streets of Mos Espa reeked of ion exhaust, spilled coolant, and something darker, thicker – the coppery stench of fresh blood clinging to the dry air. Anakin Skywalker’s boots scraped against the gritty sand-blown duracrete, each step sending jolts of agony through his wiry frame. His shoulders screamed, muscles burning like overstretched cables as he hauled the dead weight behind him. Talon’s unconscious form, draped awkwardly over a salvaged piece of plating he was using as a makeshift sled, seemed to grow heavier with every yard.
Corpses lay discarded like broken droids in the alleyways. Imperial troopers in their standard armor, their armor cracked and scorched. Local militia in mismatched gear. Civilians caught in the crossfire. Anakin kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, jaw clenched so tight it ached. He’d seen death before, too much of it on Tatooine’s harsh surface and in the whispered nightmares of his past. This was different. This felt like the galaxy itself was tearing apart, chewing people up and spitting them out onto these filthy streets. He focused on the rasp of the plating over sand, the ragged sound of his own breathing, the faint, worrying rattle in Talon’s chest.
A harsh voice barked orders nearby, cutting through the low moan of the desert wind. "–thorough sweep! Check every kriffing doorway! She can't have gotten far!" Republic accent. Clipped. Authoritative. The sound of heavy, synchronized boots pounding the street echoed off the crumbling adobe walls. Close. Too close.
Anakin froze, pressing himself and the sled hard against the shadowed recess of a bombed-out moisture vaporator stall. His heart hammered against his ribs like a frantic tooka. Sweat stung his eyes, mixing with the grime coating his face. He peered through a gap in the shattered metal casing. A squad of Republic troopers, their armor pristine blue and white under the twin suns' harsh glare, moved with lethal efficiency down the main thoroughfare. Their blaster rifles swept side to side, checking alcoves, kicking open sagging doors. They were methodical. Relentless.
Who were they hunting? Her? He glanced down at Talon. Her red skin was caked with dust and dried blood, almost black in places. Her montrals were scraped, one lekku bent at an unnatural angle beneath her. Her black bodyglove was torn in a dozen places, revealing glimpses of intricate, swirling tattoos – dark, geometric patterns that seemed to writhe in the shifting light – and the slick, terrible wounds beneath. She looked utterly broken. Left for dead. A small part of him, the part hardened by Tatooine, whispered he should leave her. The Republic patrol meant trouble he didn’t need. But the bigger part, the part that remembered his mother’s kindness, Watto’s cruelty, the suffocating helplessness of slavery… that part couldn’t abandon her. Not like this. Not breathing.
The patrol turned a corner, their voices fading. Anakin didn’t wait. He gritted his teeth, dug his heels in, and hauled the sled forward with a burst of desperate strength fueled by something deeper than muscle. It felt like pushing against a starship’s inertia. A low groan escaped Talon’s lips, but her eyes remained shut.
The derelict slave hut huddled at the edge of the abandoned settlement like a dying beast. Its walls were pockmarked with blaster scorch marks and gaping holes, the roof sagging dangerously, half-collapsed onto the packed dirt floor inside. Anakin dragged Talon and the sled through the low, crumbling doorway, kicking aside debris – shattered pottery, a rusted chain. The air inside was thick, stifling. Dust motes danced sluggishly in the single beam of harsh white light spilling from a dying power cell jury-rigged to a frayed cable dangling from the ceiling. The light flickered erratically, casting long, leaping shadows that made the cramped space feel alive and hostile. The smell hit him: ancient dust, stale sweat, rust, decay, and underneath it all, the sharp, acrid tang of spilled blood and burnt flesh.
He lowered Talon as gently as he could onto a relatively clear patch of dirt near the flickering light source. His arms trembled with exhaustion. Kneeling beside her, he shrugged off the worn satchel he always carried – tools, scraps, bits and pieces pilfered or traded. Among the grease-stained wrenches and frayed wires were three battered medpacs, scavenged from the battlefield chaos earlier. Not much. Not nearly enough.
Working quickly, hands steady despite the tremor of fatigue, Anakin ripped open the first medpak. The antiseptic gel inside smelled aggressively sterile, clashing violently with the hut’s decay. He used a cleanish rag from his pack, dampened with precious water from his canteen, to wipe away the worst of the grime and clotting blood from the deepest wound on her side – a vicious gash that looked like it came from a vibroblade. Her red skin, revealed beneath the grime, was smooth except for the stark black ink of intricate Sith tattoos swirling across her abdomen and disappearing beneath the torn fabric of her bodysuit. More tattoos coiled around her arms like serpents. He tried not to stare, focusing on the wound. The gel hissed faintly as he applied it, staunching the slow ooze of blood. He pressed a coagulant pad against it, then bound it tightly with synthflesh tape. Another wound on her thigh, less deep but bleeding freely, received the same treatment. He splinted the obviously broken lekku as best he could with strips of durasteel banding and more tape.
Throughout, Talon remained deathly still, her breathing shallow but present. Anakin worked with the focused precision of a mechanic repairing a critical engine component – assessing damage, applying solutions, making do with what he had. Sweat dripped from his brow onto the dirt floor, leaving dark spots. His own aches faded into the background noise of his concentration. Outside, the distant wail of a repulsorlift siren echoed, followed by another burst of shouted orders. Closer this time.
"Kriff," Anakin muttered under his breath, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a fresh smear of grime and Talon’s blood. He hastily gathered the empty medpac wrappers, stuffing them deep into his satchel. He needed to hide. Block the doorway. Think. The flickering light from the power cell buzzed, dimmed almost to darkness for a heart-stopping second, then flared back weakly, painting Talon’s still face in stark relief.
In that uncertain light, her eyes snapped open.
Not drowsy. Not dazed. Sharp. Instantaneous awareness flooded them – a deep, unsettling crimson that seemed to absorb the feeble light rather than reflect it. They locked onto Anakin’s face, mere inches from hers, with an intensity that felt physical, like twin blaster barrels aimed point-blank. There was no confusion, only a swift, terrifying assessment. Her gaze raked over his sweat-streaked features, his rough clothing, his proximity, the half-applied bandage on her leg where his hand still hovered. Her expression remained utterly still, impassive, but Anakin felt a sudden, chilling pressure in his skull, a probing sensation like icy fingers scraping against his thoughts. It was gone as quickly as it came, leaving him breathless.
He jerked back instinctively, scrambling to put a foot of space between them. "Whoa! Easy! You're hurt bad. I... I found you. Dragged you here." His voice sounded too loud in the sudden, charged silence of the hut, betraying his youth and the adrenaline singing in his veins. He gestured vaguely at the medpacs, the bandages. "Trying to stop the bleeding."
Talon didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Her crimson eyes didn’t leave his face. Her breathing was shallow but controlled now. The flickering light caught the gleam of sweat and drying blood on her dusky gold skin, making the black Sith tattoos seem to writhe faintly. She looked less broken now, and infinitely more dangerous. Like a nexu assessing a potential meal.
"Found me," she repeated, her voice a low rasp, rough from disuse or injury, but carrying a core of hardened durasteel. It wasn't a question. It was a statement loaded with cold implication. Her gaze dropped momentarily to his hands, still stained with her blood and the antiseptic gel, then flicked back up, pinning him again. A ghost of something – calculation? Amusement? – flickered in those unnerving red depths. "Interesting."
A hand pressed against his throat and although there was no force behind it, the young Anakin felt threatened immensly. "Where is the Jedi and her troops?"
"Somewhere in the area searching for you. They just striked the slave Quarters, it is total choas out there. What are the Sith doing on a Hutt controlled world anyway?"
Talon considered answering but she knew the truth would hurt her. The Empire was a main airberter of slavery. And the boy clearly was a slave, his posture screamed it. Maybe he was one of the slaves who finally got their freedom when the Sith and Jedi got here. The truth is that she was here and she had failed. They were here for a weapon of the Czerka cooperation had created. A prototype that could double the destruction brought by their turbolasers. The Republic was now in posession of it. Worse yet, both sides of the galactic war had breached the neutrality of the Hutts, so the Empire would still have to suffer those consequences.
"Let us just say that Czerka had something that both of us wanted and leave it at that. Do you have an escape route?
"Not really. The Republic has us completely surrounded. Right now they are searching for us with probing droides."
Talon cursed. They couldn't exactly come out and destroy the droids without destroying them. "If I had a droid, I could maybe reprogram it and the other droids, they are linked after all."
Talon was surprised. Very few people in the galaxy were capable of this. So much so that the Empire paid good money to those few who could. Usually those splicers where highly sought individuals by both Republic and Empire. Only few of those slicers were loyal to a side, most allegiances lay with the highest bidder. But to have a what to appeared to be 12 year old have the same skills was phanomenal.
And a sign of immense Force potential. The Force was known to enhance pattern recognition immensely, many Force users could take a look at something and instantly recognize something they never seen before and quickly figure out how it worked.
Behind them, there was suddenly movement and the two moved quickly. Finding shelter in a destroyed alley, Talon with a burst of Force lightning disposed quickly of two Republic soldiers approaching them. Anakin stared in fascination and some horror at Talon and the two dead soldiers. Finding a scoute droid, Talon summoned it to her with the Force and then told Anakin to get to work. He tried his best and eventually he let the droid wander off.
"I've created a false signal, a major contingent imperial troops have been "sighted" in two other quadrants. The majority of the scouting droids have been sent to confirm. I predict that in an hour there will be no more Republic troops in the area. When they are gone, it will be a two hour long foot trip to the next city."
Talon looked at him as if he was mad. "Are you insane. You want to march through the desert with no coverage. We don't know if there will be sandstorms."
The boy looked undeterred. "We'll have to risk that."
Talon did not like it, but she had no better ideas. This entire operation was enough of a headach for her already. She had failed and she would be lucky if Darth Baras would still allow her to keep her head. She could only console herself with the fact, that the blame would fall to the higher ranking Sith of the mission, if they were alive. Talon begged they were, otherwise it would be a bad day for her.
When they thought they were safe, they made their move. The boy looked cheerful. Talon wondered why. "Cheer up, we are burning daylight and it seems we'll get to live another day." She shot him a glare. "Don't worry, you'll be rid of me soon enough. Now for that speeder, he ran in the direction of the Czerka building but found nothing."
Talon limped after him. "Found nothing. How utterly predicatable." Anakin pouted. "You don't have to be so grumpy." Talon wondered when the last time was someone dared to talk to her that way. But he had proven useful. "Fine, lead away, I don't know where to go anyway."
Anakin did so and through the Force, Talon could sense determination and joy coursing through him. "You are happy to leave this place. Why is this? And don't say that it had anything to do with the Republic or Empire."
Anakin looked at her simple. "I am free and the whole galaxy is in front of me, what is there not to be happy about?"
Talon considered. "The galaxy is at war. What do you plan to do with yourself? Splicers like you are in high demand in this economy."
Anakin stopped all of a sudden. "Please, tell me you are not trying to recruit me already. Lady, you are beatiful, but I didn't just escape live as a slave by Czerka to go to the Empire."
Talon could not help but smile. "Who said you would be a mechanic? I am suggesting that you train to become a Sith lord?" The boys eyes widened. "A Sith lord?"
"I am all but certain that you have the disposition to join the Order."
"I told you that I have no intention to join the Empire."
"The Empire is your only chance really, the Republic worked for Czerka with the Republic and Czerka did with the Hutts and other criminals. Plus, you need safety. The Empire can gave you this. For in the Empire unlike the Republic, nothing is off the table if you have enough power. And only Sith have power in the Empire."