The skies of Coruscant were always the cleanest.
Clean because they were false; beautiful for the same reason.
To the locals, of course, it was just a dull sky—nothing worth looking at.
Especially for Xiao Jie.
Amir was gone. Veronica was gone. Rango was gone too.
Every day, he would ride his freshly-painted speeder bike out for a spin, though he had no idea who he was trying to impress.
Back at the warehouse, he always parked it right next to Amir's Cola-colored one.
Sain had returned. He'd met up with Amir on Tatooine and even tried the local barbecue.
Tatooine… Xiao Jie had never left Coruscant. If he ever did, he swore his first stop would be Tatooine.
And maybe Alderaan, too—Amir talked about it all the time.
He walked over to the workbench and picked up the assignment that Pierre had given him—a starship repair droid. The thing looked like it had taken a beating and wouldn't even power on.
But this level of damage was nothing he couldn't handle. With practiced ease, he grabbed his tools and started disassembling it.
It didn't take long before his legs started bouncing.
"Ugh, so boring!" Xiao Jie threw down the screwdriver and ran outside.
"Where are you going, Xiao Jie?" Pierre's voice echoed behind him.
"Getting something to eat!"
He patted his pockets—thankfully, Amir had left him some credits before leaving. Otherwise, he'd be bored out of his mind.
It was still early. Maybe he'd stop by Victor's place and play some games. He heard Victor had brought back a console from the Outer Rim.
Without realizing it, Xiao Jie had wandered up to a drink stand in the upper levels and ordered two cups of Mechanical Heart. He loved the rich, milky flavor of the drink.
The second one was for Victor, of course.
As he waited, he looked toward the distant spaceport—two pitch-black starfighters had just lifted off from who-knows-where.
"What model are those fighters? So cool!" Xiao Jie muttered to himself.
Tatooine
On the streets of Mos Eisley, a robed figure sat at a stall, sipping tea. He'd just finished helping the merchant move some cargo and had been paid in a few cheap coins.
He looked up toward the arch at the far end of the road. A Jedi had once been strung up there.
That Jedi, like him, had barely survived Order 66. More than ten years on the run—it must've been unbearable.
Fear. Hiding. Despair.
Obi-Wan knew the feeling all too well. But this was the only life he could live now.
That Jedi had once asked for his help. But Obi-Wan had turned him away. He told him to throw away his lightsaber, forget his identity, and burrow into the sands like a womp rat—anything to escape the searing light of exposure.
And so that Jedi had died.
But Obi-Wan hadn't.
He thought of the boy on the moisture farm—the one he'd placed all his hopes on.
That child carried Skywalker blood. The Force would be strong in him.
All he could do was wait. Wait for the Light Side to rise again.
He hoped Luke would be the Chosen One. He would train him to become a Jedi.
But doubt gnawed at him—Owen's words still echoed in his ears:
"Like you trained his father?"
"Anakin is dead, Ben."
Of course he remembered. He'd cut off Anakin's arms and legs with his own hands and left him to die by the lava. That image haunted his dreams every night.
Maybe I really was wrong, he thought.
Maybe I shouldn't force anything. Maybe I should let Luke follow his own path—guided by the Force.
Especially after what happened a few weeks ago.
A blond teenager had approached him, backpack slung over his shoulder, and said he wanted to learn the ways of the Force.
His name was Amir. Exceptionally gifted—stronger than Obi-Wan had been as a Padawan.
This time, Obi-Wan hadn't turned the boy away.
And so, part of his hope now rested with Amir.
And Amir had accepted that responsibility without hesitation.
"No matter what, I'll protect you until you grow up, Luke." Obi-Wan finished his tea, stood up, and took the reins of the yupi at his side.
"Hey, Ben!" called out a warm, familiar voice behind him.
"Kayin?" Obi-Wan turned to see him.
"I stopped by your place and no one was there, so I figured I'd check Mos Eisley." Kayin grinned.
"Good to see you. You've been gone so long I thought some outlaw had taken you down."
"Hah, I might as well be one myself—an ex-Imperial deserter with a bounty on my head." Kayin chuckled. "Come on, let's grab a drink. I've got a hell of a story to tell you."
He walked over and took the yupi's reins from Obi-Wan, heading toward the cantina.
Just then, Obi-Wan's commlink beeped twice—the backup one Amir had given him.
"A message. It's from Amir," Obi-Wan said.
"From Amir? I haven't seen him in a while either," Kayin leaned in.
"It's a holographic image," Obi-Wan said, activating the projector.
A 3D image of a stone slab encased in ice appeared between them.
"What is it… a rock?" Kayin frowned.
"Amir's currently out searching for some hidden structure, though we still don't know what it is exactly. He must've taken this photo near the site," Obi-Wan said, turning off the projection. "Not a good place to analyze it."
"Let's head back, then," Kayin said.
"Right." Obi-Wan agreed. He was eager to study the slab more closely, and they began walking toward the outskirts of the city.
"Commander, we've detected a new signal! But it was extremely brief—only a few seconds."
"That signal?" Moff Gideon turned sharply to the technician.
"Yes, sir!"
"Where?"
"Outer Rim. The planet Hoth. Cold and barren—little to no sentient life activity."
"Deploy the cruiser."
"But sir, the signal was brief and non-continuous. Without sustained transmission, we can't get an exact real-time fix—"
"I said deploy the cruiser!" Gideon snapped.
"Yes, sir!"
"I'll be in the experimental sector. Contact me when we arrive." Gideon stormed off into the depths of the ship, a sleek, black battle droid trailing behind him.
He walked through narrow corridors, entered through a reinforced door, and stepped into a vast, well-lit lab.
Dozens of devices filled the space, with medical droids and white-clad technicians hurrying about.
"Colonel!" a middle-aged human rushed over to greet him.
"How's progress, John Morey?" Gideon asked. This man was once a student of the famed Boris Ascot, whom Gideon had mentioned before.
"All is going well, Colonel. Thanks to the latest data retrieved from Kamino, we've made significant breakthroughs across several experiments." He hesitated for a moment. "However, Boris still refuses to cooperate. That particular experiment is still reliant on trial and error."
"We've got a new lead. We're moving out. As for that stubborn old man…" Gideon narrowed his eyes. "I've already secured authorization from higher up. Someone's coming to make him talk."
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