Slaves Of The Empire {1}

One | Moving Forward

Ahsoka rolled her eyes, but she could feel her resolve slipping. She'd been clear from the start that she wasn't there to make friends, but Ashalla could slip past the defenses of those even more withdrawn than she was without breaking a sweat. There was no point in prolonging the inevitable – not against Ashalla's pressuring.

Recalling her cover story, Ahsoka began, "Do you remember the brother I told you about, the one I was separated from when we were taken by the Empire?"

Ashalla nodded patiently, folding her hands in her lap.

"It was him I was dreaming about, on the day I lost him. We were trying to get off the planet, us and his soldiers, before they cornered us by our ships."

Ashalla leaned forward, and her green eyes were both afraid and hopeful. "Soldiers? Your brother was a rebel against the Empire?" she whispered.

Ahsoka hadn't meant to say so much, and she forced herself not to tense at the word 'rebel'. She hadn't gone by her real name in nearly six months, but even as Alynna Taari her past could still be a threat to her. There was too great an Imperial presence on Onderon for her to be taking these kinds of risks so liberally, and yet now that she'd started talking, she found it hard to stop.

"Yes. He was powerful, rarely lost a battle," Ahsoka said, managing a smile. "But what surprised people was how kind he was. He cared deeply about his friends, and looked out for them until the end. He was even willing to sacrifice himself so everyone else could get out safely. I was just too stupid to know not to go after him."

Ashalla's head drooped a little in sadness, and she made a fluttering symbol with her hands Ahsoka had come to recognize as a Twi'lek gesture of sympathy toward a fellow mourner. "I know that feeling well."

Ahsoka knew what Ashalla was about to say just from the look on her face. Even the asocial ones like Ahsoka picked up the others' personal histories by being around them long enough. There were always conversations to overhear from a chosen corner, others' attempts at bonding by sharing wounds and scars. She knew from experience that Ashalla's features always fell into a look of wistful nostalgia that hid secret pain when she was remembering her life before slavery.

But she didn't begin telling Ahsoka about that day a band of Zygerrian raiders came to her remote village on Ryloth. Ahsoka didn't find herself missing Anakin all the more desperately in the midst of the younger girl's recollections of her father and uncle sending the rest of her family to hide, and going to stall the brigands so the others would have a few more minutes together.

What she said instead was short and quiet: "I believe we will be sold today."

Ahsoka tensed before she could stop herself. "What?"

"Word came from my cousin Kuro – the one who works in Noreino House. The guards were talking about a trader in major debt with the worst sort of people. He is to present a few of his slaves as a gift to the Imperator in exchange, he hopes, for protection. The timing makes sense, with how close it is to Auction Week..."

"Ashalla, you're just jumping at shadows," Ahsoka said, but she couldn't ignore a curl of unease in the pit of her stomach. Their master's weakness for cards was well known – just how much he lost on bad plays even more so. It was plausible he'd scrounged up the impudence to go to the most powerful family on Onderon for help. Sabacc and spice had cost him most of his other friends long ago.

But even if what the pretty Twi'lek and her cousin said was true, Ahsoka knew she had little to worry about. In desperation, their master would send the majority of the more beautiful girls, saving one or two favorites for himself. Ahsoka had a few attributes she'd taken pride in, once, but none so grand they would make her worthy of gifting to someone of such high rank.