In recent years, Ahsoka had grown better at calming the impulse that rose up inside her in quiet moments, urging her to pace or fidget to release some pent-up energy until the time came for action. But against work as long and dry as coding, and then sitting through updates the computer console had to cycle through after every series of commands, the desire to move was as seductive as a siren's song.

With a hum, she extended her arms above her head and linked her fingers together – and yes, she informed the impulse patiently, stretching counts as moving. Slowly, she swayed side to side in the plush desk chair to get the cricks out of her back, keeping her attention on her breath until she was ready to expand her awareness to the rest of her body.

It was the closest she'd come to meditation in months, even if it was only meant to give her a sense of which muscle groups were tense and sore from sitting still too long, and which felt the same simply because she was out of shape. The conclusion she reached was expected, but that didn't make it any less disheartening; she wondered if she might be able to pass her old training exercises off as practice for some sort of exotic dance. Filling her days with nothing but security work and HoloNet browsing would put her at a serious disadvantage if things came to a fight.

The flicker of the holoscreen's chrono display as one minute phased into the next drew her gaze. A few absentminded calculations later, Ahsoka realized it was nearly three hours past the time she'd started working at. She was eating into her free time with the terminal.

Once she'd saved her code and closed the diagnostics page, she shifted her hand down to tap the icon that would take her to a popular news channel – the sooner she got a sense of galactic affairs and the Rebellion's progress, the better. But she stopped when she spotted another just beside it, labeled only as ieX80R.

Ahsoka's eye markings rose when she recognized it as an online database linked to his HoloNet account. Surprising, considering the phenomenal amount of storage on the terminal and various datapads Lux had, which were automatically synced the second a change was made. Even more so when he seemed so concerned about the security of his hardware. Then there was the odd name and placement, when everything else on his home screen was so neatly organized and labeled.

Her finger drifted closer to the icon, the temptation to select it gripping her. There were more than a few unsavory things a person could be stashing in a covert database such as this, but a feeling deeper than intuition told her none of the usual guesses were the case here. Nothing so far had been normal about Lux.

What was the harm in checking, just quickly? She could scrub the computer's memory core of any indication she had been through the database easily, and yet...

Ahsoka's experiences with Zakhan Noreino had been thankfully brief thus far, but it was no stretch of the imagination to think he was monitoring his family's rooms. Or perhaps Lux was – if he was so scared of outside influences messing with his terminal, it was within reason to install extra measures to protect it. If she lost her precarious standing with him so soon, it would be impossible to win it back.

She let her hand slip away again to settle in her lap, but she didn't spare the icon a pointed frown. Logic had outwitted her burgeoning desire for action of some kind this time, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

Besides, she thought with a sudden grin, angling her head back at the door, information's no good if I don't know how to get it out of the palace. If Lux won't be back for hours still, who's to stop me from doing a little reconnaissance? I doubt my blasted slave tracker will go off on me if I stay in the building.

Ahsoka shut off the terminal and scampered out of the room as quickly as her annoyingly long, sheer skirt and chafing strappy sandals would allow. The thought of roaming unsupervised and without obligations of any kind for the first time in ages made her giddy, and she couldn't keep a smile off her face when she stepped out into the corridor.

The cool, dark hall was a blessing after the heat that permeated the rooms along the outer wall of the palace, though the humidity still lingered enough to mingle with the fine sheen of sweat covering her body. It was empty, too – the sound of her footfalls on the black marble was met only by an answering echo – but she expected letting the ruffians she'd seen lurking around into the wing of the palace occupied by the Imperator's own family had to be a major security risk.

The halls were uniform constructions of blue-grey marble and geometric painted decals. Luckily, the works of art on the walls or nestled into alcoves were recognizable enough in their extravagance to point the way back to the cavernous room Lux called the Great Hall. As a major hub of the palace, it was a good place to start building a mental map. From there, she could branch outward.

The closer she got to the Great Hall, the more lowlifes there were. Some shot her ravenous looks, but it had been a long time since she'd let the attention get to her, and she walked on unbothered. Equally more guards adorned with the Noreino crest stood near to keep them from slinking too far out of their corners, and–

And there were Imperial storm troopers.

A group of six rounded the corner, all armor clicking against armor and boots beating the same rhythm into the floor as they maintained a perfect formation around a thin officer laden with datapads. Ahsoka's breath caught in her throat. There was nowhere to hide here – no choice but to shut her eyes, make herself small and pray they passed her by.

She walked on, her face blank and hands cold with fear, waiting for them to stop and recognize her as Commander Tano, Jedi Padawan, Rebel leader... But they didn't. Even once they had a full view of her face, the enemy didn't deem her worthy enough of their attention to spare even a passing glance.

Once she was a safe distance away, Ahsoka allowed herself a small smile. The invisibility that came with the very bottom rung of the social ladder would serve her, and she had half a mind to test how far that advantage went. Perhaps she could pay Kuro a visit in the kitchens and hear some gossip, if he still remembered her.

Following a group of servants bearing empty plates to a quiet stretch of hallway and down the small flight of stairs hidden there, Ahsoka soon came to a spacious, well-lit basement. Even with many beings running to and fro with supplies and ingredients, expending their body heat as they went, it was surprisingly warm – the kind of dry, charged warmth that came from ovens and stoves rather than oppressive Onderon weather cycles. She was definitely in the right place.

She darted to the side to avoid a platter nearly as wide as she was tall and piled high with meat from some sort of native game, and suddenly found herself near enough to a group of kitchen staff to hear them speak. She didn't catch more than the vague tail end of a question posed to the Mirialan in a cook's uniform who stood at the center, but she did hear the answer:

"Yeah, but that was back during the Clone Wars, when our dear Imperator was thought to be years dead and buried on Aargonar." The woman spoke in a spiteful tone of voice that bordered on audacious, and Ahsoka had to resist the urge to creep closer. That kind of defiance held promise. "Even if he was officially labeled 'missing in action', the battle was such a shitshow the Republic couldn't even scrape together some usable spare parts from the fallen droids."

"How do you know that, Tavia? You were only, what, seventeen at the time? Too young to have fought," a redheaded serving girl piped up.

Morally, yes, but not literally, Ahsoka thought. I know that only too well.

The Mirialan – Tavia – barked out a laugh. "Sure I was – and I wasn't there, but I was in the sector. Both Republic and Seppie recruiters were drafting folks as young as fourteen, on some planets. Why, the Imperator's own son was part of the Rebellion of Onderon from the very start, and he was the same age as me."

Lux was involved in the Rebellion? It took Ahsoka conscious effort to keep her expression level. But he's the son of a major Imperial leader, and the timing is wrong...

"Tavia, we're not supposed to talk about that," a Human man cut in urgently, his voice considerably quieter.

Tavia tossed her short black hair and crossed her arms nonchalantly over her chest. "See if I give a shit. Lord Noreino's not gonna find a better pastry chef on the whole planet, mark me. Young Lux was a real sensation, from junior Senator on the rise to rebel against the Separatist Armada... and the scandal when people found out he'd been sleeping around with Steela Gerrera, gods above!"

An awkward, tight feeling rose up in her chest at that, but she pushed it away; she had no reason to care what he did or who he saw on his own time. She quickly drew her attention back to the facts (or loose approximations thereof), and tried to place where she had heard the name Gerrera before.

The redhead scoffed. "You've been reading too many gossip feeds, Tavia. You've seen him around the palace – he's such a prude, even with the pleasure slaves! If he wasn't so rich and pretty in the face, I'd bet a hundred credits he was still a virgin."

The Human poked her in the ribs with a sly grin. "Except you've never had a hundred credits to your name at any one time, sweet Anji."

"Shut up!"

Ahsoka sensed the conversation was about to drift in another direction, and she'd probably have to abandon any pretext of subtlety if she wanted to learn more. She stepped forward with the most innocent expression she could muster. "Was he one of the leaders? The Imperator's son, I mean?"

As the trio turned to look at her, Tavia raised an eyebrow. "And who're you?"

"I... I'm new. My name is Alynna."

"She's a pleasure slave, Tavia," the Human hissed. "Look at her clothes."

Recognition dawned on Anji's face, and Ahsoka cursed her luck; the serving girl had no doubt brought Lux a meal at some point and seen Ahsoka in his rooms.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, she began to draw her friends away. "Guys, she's his slave. I've seen them together. We should go."

Tavia's bravado bled out of her then, and it was clear she had nothing else to use as a substitute. Though she jabbed a finger in Ahsoka's direction, her voice was trembling when she finally addressed her. "You'd best be moving on, little girl. Repeat a word of this to your master there, and you're dead."

Ahsoka pursed her lips but nodded the respectful farewell that was expected from a slave and left. There would be other opportunities to see Kuro, and she had enough to unpack from the kitchen staff's gossip as it was.

The warmth faded quickly, as did the cheery lighting, as she turned down a hallway and left the bustle around the kitchen behind. The sudden sense of being alone was jarring to the point of feeling dangerous. Though she knew the risks, Ahsoka sent her power arcing out ahead of her, heightening her vision and sense of smell to work in tandem with her advanced Togruta spacial awareness and hearing.

The piercing echoes of metal striking metal and the odor of rubber quickly drew her attention. She froze, then sprang for the shadows, honing everything she had in on those fragments of sensory information as she'd been trained to do. But she sensed nothing amiss beyond an inexplicable pull forward.

Choosing to trust her senses (but priming some believable excuses just in case), Ahsoka rounded two corners in a hallway lined with storage rooms. A moment later, she found herself blinking in the sudden brilliance of a sizeable, well-lit training arena.

The place had a ceiling easily three stories high, and from it dangled ropes, ladders and a variety of pieces of equipment. An elevated walkway spanned the periphery of the room, no doubt meant for spectators to watch from a safe distance. The clanging noises were louder here, and beginning to sound oddly familiar.

Though Ahsoka was tempted to go investigate, again caution won out – and that second look around the room sent her darting back behind the nearest pile of mats for cover. Zakhan Noreino stood leaning against the railing on the walkway, watching what was beginning to sound like a fight in rapt attention.

"Come on, ya lazy bastard!" came a sudden howl from somewhere behind a pile of mats that obscured part of her view of the arena. Ahsoka jumped. "Get your ass into gear! Your lord father is here and this is all ya've got to show him?"

Lux lurched into view, a metal quarterstaff in hand, and stumbled to a halt, clutching his side as though still reeling from a blow. A vaguely humanoid shape clad in a shadow hologram leapt after him with a certain fluidity of motion but heaviness in landing Ahsoka recognized – a repurposed commando droid, she would guess – and aimed a blow at his feet with a staff of its own. When Lux intercepted it, there was that same noise she'd been following, sharper now for the closer proximity.

Training sounds. No wonder she'd been drawn to them.

The droid forced Lux back again easily and swung for the side of his head. It met only air when Lux dodged back. He landed in a ready position with grace that surprised her, but she frowned when kept his staff low.

His footwork is good, Ahsoka thought, Anakin's way of interspersing positive comments into the delivery of his training lectures coming to mind instinctively, but he should know it's harder to raise a weapon than it is to lower it. If he keeps dropping his guard to move like that, he'll lose an eye.

Another hit to his quarterstaff, raised just a little too late to take the full brunt of the impact, sent Lux retreating far enough back for her to see his face in profile. He was relentlessly determined, his eyes narrowed and teeth gritted against the strain of holding his staff level with the droid's mechanical power pressing down on it. But there was also something less confident beneath it, too, more distracted – like he was bracing himself for something other than the fight at hand.

He looked like a cornered animal. Ahsoka found Lux's father with her eyes again, and took a wild guess his stony expression had something to do with it.

The droid abruptly ceased its attack and drew back into a standing position with the whirring of processing units powering down. As its shadow hologram dematerialized, a man half a head taller than Anakin and twice as broad stepped into view, wearing an odd combination of civilian dress, training pads and military gear. From the hasty way Lux straightened and bowed, clenching his stomach to keep from panting with the exertion, Ahsoka guessed this was his combat instructor.

"This exercise is over. We're gonna try the mixed martial arts and weapons program." He barked out a laugh. "Make you look like a bit less of a failure, eh?"

"Good. And increase the difficulty by three levels."

Instantly, all eyes were on Zakhan – a mistake Ahsoka was too late to see, though even in retrospect there was nothing she could've done.

"I don't want a performance he can execute easily; I want an accurate assessment of his skill level," Zakhan continued with a savage smile. "Let's see him show his quality while confronting odds that are not in his favor."

Then, fast enough to give a seasoned Jedi some trouble, certainly too fast for a nobleman's son with less than a tenth of the skill, the commando droid swept its staff past Lux's lowered guard. The blow caught him right in the face.

There was a sickening crunch beneath the metal butt of the staff as cartilage and bone gave way, and blood began to flow.

Ahsoka's reconnaissance venture earned her some gossip with hints of truth to it and a front-row seat at another one of Lux's tests, and she can tell he has a lot to learn – even if the odds are stacked against him. What other crucial details about his past is she missing? Lux has wondered before if he's fighting battles he can only win by forsaking the larger conflict. Will he pull through in the end, now that the stakes have risen to a training match that may even involve real danger? Only time will tell...

CLIFFHANGER TIME!!!

Or, sorta cliffhanger time, cause the next chapter is literally just a click or a swipe away.

Ngl, for the longest time the chapter title of this story was Ahsoka VS the Windows Update. It was intended as an exposition chapter where she starts to gain a foothold with her personal freedoms and get a sense of her surroundings before things really heat up. Plus another look at Zakhan being an ass like some crazy hybrid of Admiral Thrawn with 50% of the intelligence and 70% of the cool disposition... and a chihuahua with aggression issues.

A six foot three chihuahua. Well, that image is a little too terrifying for this earth, so I'm gonna drop that particular subject right now...