Chapter Text
6 ABY
At first glance, it looked abandoned.
She frowned, glancing at the nav. This was the spot.
Damn. Those locals in Mos Eisley weren’t kidding.
As she drove closer, signs of life revealed themselves in little ways. Old but well-maintained mining equipment. Functioning evaporators, a bit rusty but with evidence of recent repairs. An open door to what could be a communal hall or cantina of some sort. Still, this town had literally one road, not even a crossroad to yield at. And a single soul had yet to reveal itself; the only movement was a puff of dust that tumbled and swirled down the street from a gust of wind at her back. It was eerie.
She slowed the speeder bike down as she reached the first single-story rounded dwelling, taking one hand off the handlebars to lift up her goggles. Cruising at a walking pace, her head swiveled back and forth, looking for organic life, even a cat; something. Suddenly, a figure stepped out of the building with the open door, bounding down the steps and into the middle of the road. He— it?— was wearing armor.
Mandalorian armor. Well, shit. This galaxy really is too small.
She braked, and dismounted slowly.
“What brings you here, stranger?” The armored figure stood comfortably, loosely, but she’d spent far too much time around soldiers to not recognize the poise, and the hand casually resting near the blaster on his hip. She kept her hands far away from her own blaster— conspicuously strapped to her thigh— removed her head wrap and helmet, and shook her waist-length black hair loose. Maybe slightly ostentatious, but certainly a move to deescalate any tension; Thenia had yet to meet a fighter who flaunted their looks before blasting people away. The figure’s helmet tilted slightly, and she knew why— pitch-black hair on Tatooine was as rare as rain, in a place where two suns bleached everything they touched. It marked her as an outsider.
“I’m Thenia Cura. I’m a traveling medic. Heard you didn’t have a doctor out here, and I’m looking for a place to set up a clinic.”
The armored figure straightened perceptibly, hand falling away from the blaster, and he gestured to the building he had come from. “Well in that case, come in for a drink and let’s talk.” He turned to the street and raised his voice. “S’all right, y’all can go about your business. She’s a doctor.”
Doors left and right opened, and denizens of all shapes and sizes, yet bearing the same pinched, wary look, spilled out.
What the hell has been happening out here, that they hide at the sign of a speeder?
Thenia guided the speeder out of the middle of the thoroughfare, and followed the armored man into the disorienting dim of the building. It was indeed a cantina, likely the only one in this one-speeder town; this early in the afternoon, it was deserted, only the Weequay bartender futilely wiping sand and dust off of a sandy-hued bar. At the armored man’s gesture, the bartender set two cups and a bottle of spotchka on the bar, which the man swept up with a nod of thanks, and gestured for her to join him at a table. Thenia glanced at the bartender, who was attempting to hide his eavesdropping with busywork. She smirked, and took her seat, making a mental note to make modifications to her clinic, to combat this pervasive sand that currently coated her chair.
“So do your folks usually hide when a stranger comes to town? Must be a rare occasion to have guests.”
“Rare enough that we take precautions, just in case.” The helmet’s modulator didn’t mask the accent of a local, and again she wondered how the hell he had gotten Mandalorian armor on Tatooine. She hummed.
“Sounds awfully disruptive to a work day.”
“Better safe than sorry.”
“Says the one man who did step out to confront a stranger.”
He chuckled at that, and his hands reached up to remove the helmet. Her eyes followed the path of the helmet to the table, then back up to the man’s face. A deep tan, lightly weathered, salt and pepper hair, with twinkling dark eyes and a lopsided grin as he reponded, “That’s my job, darlin’. Cobb Vanth, Marshal of Mos Pelgo. Or Freetown, as we like to call it.”
Thenia surveyed the hand he had stretched out briefly, before grasping it. It was warm, calloused, and firm, and held on a half-second longer than necessary. She politely pulled her hand back with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, mentally quelling the warmth zinging through her body at the view before her. “Pleasure to meet you, Marshal. So it’s your job to make sure I’m only treating viruses and broken bones, is that right?”
“If I’m doing my job right, then yes— though I daresay you’ll see me enough to either love me or hate me.”
If the wink hadn’t done it, the sentence would have, and Thenia felt a tug in her chest. She heeded the warning, and her eyes took on a dangerous glint as she replied. “I daresay I’ll survive the inconvenience.”
Ignoring his incredulous grin and the faint choke of the bartender, she downed the rest of her glass and stared at him serenely as the marshal struggled regain a professional expression. “I’ll need a place in town that can function as a clinic, and a room behind it for personal quarters. Do you have any vacant homes for purchase?”
“I can do you one better,” the marshal was coolly affable once more. “We had a lot of folks leave during the war, and some losses right after over a turf war. You can take your pick, free of charge. I will have to warn you, credits ain’t flowing around here, most folks will want to barter for services.”
“That’s fine, I’m familiar with that and it shouldn’t be a problem."
"I'm assuming you've got credentials and everything proving that you are a medic, right, Doc? I'd hate to have to arrest you for impersonating medical personnel." The tone was jesting, but a glint in his eyes told Thenia he meant it. She could respect that; it honestly should have been his first question, but she was grateful he asked at all. With a marshal like that, she'd stay.
"Of course, and they'll be posted on the wall of the clinic for all patients to review before signing on for care, a standard practice." The marshal nodded in approval. "You have anyone here who works on speeders and droids? I’ve got a contact in Mos Eisley, but it’d be easier if you have someone local—”
“Sure, we’ve got some folks who work on moisture vaporators, they can probably help with your droid and definitely with your bike.”
“Well then,” Thenia stood, effectively ending the little tete-a-tete, “shall we?” The marshal chuckled as he acquiesced to her minute power-move, and set his helmet back on, gesturing her to the door before waving at the bartender.
They stepped out into the street, dust swirling around their ankles in the mid-afternoon sun. Scorching heat radiated up from the ground as well as overhead, roasting her legs within her boots and broiling her head as the raven tresses soaked up the suns’ rays. Thenia replaced her headscarf, and they set off down the street.
“That’s some fancy Core world accent ya got there, darlin’. How did you end up all the way out here?”
Thenia didn’t answer immediately. “How long has the settlement been without regular medical care?”
Judging by Cobb’s response, he knew a deflection when he saw one, and accepted it without comment. “Been about 4 years or so. Doc left to go fight with the Rebels, never made it back.”
Thenia’s chest tightened. “What was his name?”
“Trigg Tellhouser.”
Hoth.
Thenia knew he was watching her, so she kept an impassive face as her mind flashed through memories. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“S’pose he could be alive and livin’ somewhere happily, maybe settled down with someone. No real reason to come back to this dustbowl if he could help it.”
She was pulling the woman off of his body—
“you have to leave, they’re coming—”
“I can’t leave him!”
“He’s already gone! Take—take his ring and his helmet. If we can come back, we’ll bury him, but if you stay, you die, you and the baby.”
She pulled the sobbing woman away, hustling through the icy trenches and dodging blaster fire—
“Yes, maybe he is.”
Pushing the stabbing feeling down, she followed the marshal into the first house. Each was small, humble, which was fine— she didn’t need much. Not anymore. She ended up selecting the third house, which had a beautiful little kitchen and a substantial front room that could function for the clinic.
“Well, if you need anything else, just let me know. General store and grocer is two doors down, and I’m all the way down at the end.” The marshal had kept the helmet on since they left the cantina, and she stared down the visor with a small smile.
“I should be fine, but thank you. I’ll bear that in mind, if I need anything.”
“Be sure you do. I’ll be seein’ ya, doc.” He tipped his helmet, and sauntered off. She watched him go— she wasn’t a droid, after all— then turned and sighed. The house was so drab— but it was also a clean slate, and in a way that was exciting. With that refreshing perspective, she stepped into the street, and steered her speeder bike and the crates she’d been hauling behind it to the front of her new home.
“Need a hand?”
Thenia looked up from the tarp she was pulling off of the crates. A teenage girl was standing there, watching her with a friendly smile. “If you’re moving in, you’re not a stranger anymore, or shouldn’t be. Name’s Jo.”
“Thenia,” she smiled, taking the girl’s preferred hand, “or Doc, as will likely be the nickname I’m stuck with.”
“A doctor! That’s useful, we need one. Odds aren’t good when the nearest one’s a day away. What can I help with?”
“You can power him up for starters, we’ll get him in first.” Thenia gestured to her beloved monstrosity currently powered down and strapped to the side of the speeder.
“What is that?”
“That is Honeybee. He’s a 2-1B medical droid, or was. 1-B sounded like Honeybee, and he accepted it, so that’s the name. We found only the upper half, his legs severed, so he got welded to the repulser function of a probe droid, which is great because now he can’t trip on anything. But it is a little off-putting to see a floating half-droid, so hopefully he won’t scare anyone.” She gazed fondly at the double-amputee droid, grateful that they had let her take it. He will help do so much good here. It helped abate the loneliness, even if its programming was pretty strictly limited to medical assistance; they had tinkered with its programming and added some more multipurpose capability. Too bad it didn’t know how to cook.
“Where did you find it?”
“Are you sure about this, Rex? He’s been here a long time—”
“I’m sure, Doc. Let the mechanics at him and he’ll be right as rain, even if it’s only half a droid. These 2-1B units were dead useful back in the war. When there were more wounded than beds, our medics would use ‘em to track, chart, and help in surgery. Kix was fanatical about having them fully charged when not in use, just in case. Saved a lot of lives.”
“If you’re sure, Rex, then let’s take him with us. Maybe it’ll make up for the lack of proton bombs we found here.”
“Ha, yes ma’am.”
“Scavenged him.” It wasn’t a total lie. Thenia knew the town would eventually figure it all out, but hopefully by then they’d know not to talk to her about it. She was on Tatooine for a reason.
“What’s a honey bee?”
Thenia froze. She hadn’t thought about that.
“It’s an insect that drinks from flowers to make honey, which is a sweet syrup.”
“Oh, that’s interesting. Where do they live?”
Thenia’s throat tightened. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard on day one.
“Alderaan. They lived on Alderaan.”
Everything unloaded, Thenia stood on the front porch waving off Jo with her thanks and a promise for caf sometime, though the girl hardly looked old enough for a caffeine addiction. The girl had been pleasantly direct, not too chatty but just enough to get a better sense of the town and its backstory, major players and squabblers to avoid if possible.
The second sun had nearly set, drenching the landscape in a deep purplish red, and lights began to illuminate the homes on the street. Thenia counted the number of homes that remained dark. There were several. A dismal scene, but if there were enough young folk like Jo in the town that planned on staying, the homes would surely fill back up over time. If not… well, this could be a short stay in Freetown. Thenia tried to not think about that, and stepped back into the building.
Honeybee was in the clinic, charged with sanitizing the space and setting up supplies. She waved her thanks to him, and continued on to the kitchen. The prospect of cooking was unappealing, so she settled for a ration bar, the corners of her mouth crimping up at memories of how often she and her companions had abused the disgusting meal replacement in a contest to see who could use the most colorful language to do so. She had won, to the admiration and appall of many, including the old-timers.
Not cooking freed up Thenia to sit for a moment and reflect. Or not reflect. She hadn’t decided yet.
Her long-distance comm blinked.
“I was just thinking about you, old man.”
A bald man with the most impressive snow-white beard was beaming at her, a ghostly blue in the holo’s light. “How’s my favorite medic?”
She snorted. “We both know that’s not true.”
“Yeah well he’s not here to argue that so the honors go to you.” She gave him a sympathetic yet grateful smile.
“How are the knees?”
“Better with that salve you left. Though this old body’s just tired now.” Her heart wrenched; she knew it wouldn’t be too much longer.
“Psh, I’m sure you can still kick my ass in a pushup contest.”
“Ad’ika, I will kick your ass in a pushup contest on my deathbed. Gotta put the work in.” She rolled her eyes and laughed.
“Did you call for some reason other than flaunting your genetic superiority?”
“I just wanted to see how you were doing, ad’ika.” Her heart clenched.
“You were always a terrible liar. It’s Wolffe, isn’t it.”
Rex’s head bowed.
“I’m so sorry, Rex. Do you need me to—”
“No, no, ad’ika. You just got settled, and it’s done now. He’s with the vod’e, and I’m not alone. I just wanted you to know, so you can add him to your list.”
“Thanks, Rex. It’s a long list these days. Is she there?” A second head popped into the frame.
“Hey!”
“Oh good, you’re keeping him out of trouble.” Thenia smiled at the look of faux outrage on Rex’s tired face.
“I’ll have you know I—”
“Yes, chaotic Jedi, Domino twins, Gregor, Ezra. We know. You’re a walking miracle of narrowly avoided brain aneurysms. Make sure he’s eating, will you? And not just the fun stuff.” She gave a sloppy salute with a wink and disappeared. Rex shook his head with indulgent exasperation.
“Medics still bossing me around after all this time, from another planet! But what about you, ad’ika? You settling in okay?”
Thenia sighed. “I’m in a Tatooine town so small, it doesn’t even show up on maps, and I’ll open up shop tomorrow. I think I can do some good here, and I sourced some paint from Mos Eisley, so I can keep that up too. As far as people… we’ll see. The marshal’s something else, but I guess he gets to be that way when he’s wearing Mandalorian armor.” Rex straightened.
“What?”
“It surprised me too. It’s not his, he’s no Mando. Not sure how he got it and it looks like it’s been through the war, but he uses it to keep the town safe.”
“What color was the armor?”
“Hard to say, it was in pretty bad shape. It probably used to be green. Helmet’s dented. Why?”
Rex frowned, his eyes growing distant. “Curious. I’ll ask around. Probably nothing, and at least it’s being used for a good reason.” Thenia got the impression there was more to it, but didn’t press.
“Promises he’ll be my best customer too, so he’s probably one of those dumb, brave, reckless hero types,” Thenia continued with an eye roll. Rex chuckled.
“Local charm, eh?”
“Oh he tried, and I’m sure he’ll try again. But he seems honest and moral, which is evidently rare here, so I think it’ll be a safe place to start over.” Rex peered at her, and Thenia sighed, shoulders slumping. “Not yet, Rex. I’m not ready for friends I can lose in a heartbeat. Particularly ones that sign up for violence.” He nodded.
“Just don’t shut everyone out forever, ad’ika. I tried that.”
“You earned it Rex, ten times over. If you had never come back to the fight, no one would have blamed you for an instant.”
“True. But it was worth it. Even losing Gregor—” Rex swallowed hard, “—he was happy to die with meaning, with purpose. I would have missed out on so much if I had stayed on Seelos. Missed out on all my new ad’e, like you. My Remembrance list got a lot longer, but it was worth it. Remember that, when you remember the dead.”
Thenia smiled, even as a tear escaped. “You remind me so much of Papa sometimes. Thanks, Rex.”
“Anytime, ad’ika.” An armored elbow appeared and nudged Rex. “I’m being told it’s time to go.”
“Yup, bedtime, old man.”
“Old man! Ori’vod’ika, you’re older than me!”
“Worst clone joke ever, old-timer. You’ve got my comm, yeah, Cura?”
“I’ve got it, Oya. Stay in touch, my friend. And Rex, take care of yourself.”
“Always, ad’ika. I’m in no rush to march on. Got way too many clone jokes to make her memorize. Ret’urcye mhi.”
“We will, Rex. Promise.”
The old man’s gentle smile faded, and Thenia drew a deep breath, sucking in the gaping silence left behind. It had been painful to leave them, but necessary. Hell, they had effectively pushed her out, loading her up with supplies and a list of systems to explore. She couldn’t ask for better friends, painful as it was to lose them one by one.
And she had.
Which was how she ended up on Tatooine. While bearing a faint resemblance to Jakku, it looked nothing like Alderaan, and that was what mattered. A week in Naboo had ruled itself out for that very reason. So now, Thenia lived on a dustball, ready to get a fresh start and maybe make friends.
Eventually.
Possibly.
But for now, some poor moisture farmers would get to benefit from the best medical education Alderaan could provide, and Thenia could maybe start to heal in solitude.
And as if on cue, goosebumps erupted up and down her arms, and nerves fired with the sense of no longer alone. Thenia refused to turn around.
“Go away.”
The presence lingered, expectant.
“I’m not doing this tonight. Go away.”
Not waiting for a response, Thenia turned to the last crate that remained unopened. Prying off the lid, she peered in and began lifting out canisters, carrying them to the bedroom. The presence followed. Before she got started, she popped her head into the clinic. “Honeybee, how goes it?”
The droid spun mid-air to face her. “The clinic space is sanitized, and the supplies have been organized and stored. All is ready for tomorrow,” it said solemnly in its deep voice.
“Excellent work as always, Honeybee. I’m going to start now. Can you come play the recordings and charge in the bedroom?”
“Yes, Mistress Thenia.”
“Thank you Honeybee,” Thenia walked back to the bedroom, the droid bobbing companionably at her side, a low buzzing coming from its repulsers. She smiled, glancing at the small honeybee design that decorated its steel-gray chest plate. “Do you need anything besides charging? Any issues with the sand?”
“No mistress, I self-sanitized, and as long as I remain indoors, I should be fine.”
“I will do my best to make that happen, Honeybee.”
As Honeybee settled itself into the corner with the charging station and selected a title to play, Thenia laid out her brushes, mixing palette, and towels, and stood in the middle of the space, turning slowly in a circle to observe her latest canvas. It had been a while, and she waited patiently for inspiration to strike.
And on cue, as the sounds of an Alderaanian symphony swelled in the empty space, she pushed the bed away from the wall to start in the space above her pillow. Decisively dipping a paintbrush into a canister, Thenia swept the brush against the wall, relaxing as her focus dialed into her artistic expression.
Everything else, including the hovering presence, fell away.
—————
Cobb leaned back in a booth in the cantina, swirling a mug of hot tea absently. It was too late for spotchka, too late for him anyway, though not for the cantina’s other occupants. Couples, friends, and lone drinkers dotted the space, chatting amiably with one another. A few young women sat at the bar, attempting to catch Cobb’s eye and failing to convince the bartender to aid in their conspiracy. With practiced ease, he resolutely avoided eye contact, staring into a middle ground elsewhere. When will they learn.
His mind was elsewhere anyway. Thinking about a raven-haired newcomer.
He had assumed the worst when a laden speeder bike rode so confidently into town. It wasn’t so long ago that similarly confident newcomers had entered the town and initiated a bloodbath. He had never been more pleased to be wrong when she swung off the speeder and shook her hair loose from her helmet. Pretentious? Slightly. Enticing?
Definitely.
The girls at the bar were younger than the doc, but he himself wasn’t young anymore. And boy, did she know how to carry a conversation.
“I daresay I’ll survive the inconvenience.”
He’d had it coming, he’d been an idiot. She had that effect on him, and it was new, and unsettling, and exhilarating.
Cobb took a sip of his tea. He needed a clear head. She was clever, and had given exactly nothing away, other than a Core world accent, and a slightly unusual interest in the town’s former doctor. But even that wasn’t conclusive. Secrets could be dangerous. The new doc could be a wanted criminal; didn’t seem likely, but it was a big galaxy. And few moved to Tatooine willingly.
He sighed, and closed his eyes. Her lightly tanned skin, inky black hair, and clever brown eyes above a hovering smirk flashed for a moment. He opened his eyes again.
He definitely needed a clear head.