Ahsoka.

Anakin was calling out for her, reaching out for her. He needed her to catch him or he'd fall into the darkness threatening to swallow him up.

Ahsoka.

A form flashed by, its face so twisted in pain and grief she nearly cried out.

Ahso... nna."

He was gone. It was already too late to save him. But she had to–

"Alynna?"

She had failed him.

"Alynna!"

Ahsoka's eyes flew open, but she saw little through the veil of confusion that rises from suddenly waking out of a deep sleep. And even then, she was preoccupied with something far more urgent: her throat was closing in on itself.

Panic took hold, and she snapped into action, her diaphragm heaving. Her fingers scrabbled blindly over the neckline of her ratty sleeping tunic, and she would've started clawing skin away to reach her lungs and the tracker just below had someone not gathered her hands up tightly and whispered for her to breathe.

The voice that spoke to her was soft and gentle, and though she was too far past the edge to hear much, it flowed so smoothly around each syllable that before long the tension began to leave her. She started shaking a little as she sucked in that first sweet breath of air; it took every scrap of dignity she had to keep from sobbing in relief.

The hands withdrew, and she felt someone sit down beside her. "That's it, Alynna – deep breaths. Stay with me."

In the wake of so vivid a dream of the past, it took Ahsoka a few seconds to remember that was the name she went by, now, and a few seconds more to think to nod an affirmative. In a halfhearted attempt at a calming technique she'd learned as a child, she let her gaze move across the room, taking in every detail from the grey stone walls to the dozen sleeping pallets in neat rows along the floor.

Seven of them were empty. Their master must've had guests last night.

"Your nightmares have returned."

The calming technique wasn't working. Ahsoka was too highly strung to for close study, so she sat up and stretched. It was something to do, and it would buy her more time before she had to speak to the girl next to her: a pretty green Twi'lek a few months shy of seventeen, seen by many as the mother figure of their group.

"Ashalla, stop it. I'm fine," Ahsoka said, a little more harshly than she'd meant to. "It's not like I'm the only one who's ever had them."

"No, but I take notice when someone starts up again after weeks of quiet."

"Speaking of, you be quiet. We'll wake the others if we keep talking."

She could've come up with something better, she knew that, but it was still a valid excuse. Several of the girls sleeping around them were the master's favorites, and there was no telling how late they'd gone to bed. It wasn't enough to dissuade Ashalla, though – she merely crossed her arms and shifted closer on the sleeping pallet that was barely big enough to seat both of them.

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.

"Am I?"

The terse, quick way she spoke told Ahsoka everything Ashalla had not said aloud. While Ahsoka herself had little to fear, Ashalla still had the freshness of early adolescence so many perverted slavers coveted. Paired with a lovely face and stunning shape, she was an ideal candidate for the master's tribute to the Noreinos.

Ahsoka didn't know what to say, so, hesitantly, she took Ashalla's hand.

The younger girl shut her eyes and clenched her fingers tight around Ahsoka's. "I can't go to the Noreinos, Alynna. I can't."

"It's out of my power, 'Shal. This... is the way things are."

"I'm with child," she blurted, and suddenly Ahsoka understood. A person could hear stories about Lord Imperator Noreino's brutality from just about anyone they asked. Ahsoka knew to take them with a grain of salt, but his sprawling residence in an unforgiving city was still no place for a teenager to go about carrying and birthing a baby.

Ahsoka guessed Ashalla had a month, maybe two, before she started to show. Then she would be found out and sent off for hard labor, or worse. A pregnant slave was a bad investment, and there were a million others who could take her place.

"Can't Kuro get you those special pills, like the other few times you've been in trouble?" Ahsoka asked, more numbly than she should have. It had been a long time since she'd had to look after anyone but herself – and even there she only did the bare minimum – and she had never seen the younger woman look so vulnerable.

Ashalla shook her head mournfully and dropped Ahsoka's hand to drape her arms protectively over her belly. "He fell out of favor with the noblewoman he used to take them from. Even with us both living under one roof he would have no way to get more for me." She had tears in her eyes when she spoke again, this time in a terrified babble: "Please, Alynna, I doubt I'll carry to term, but I can't go to–"

That was all Ahsoka caught before the door to the girls' room in the sleeping quarters screeched and groaned open on sliding mechanisms the humidity had rusted nearly into oblivion. All around them girls leapt to their feet and stood to a fearful attention. In a gesture fuelled more by reflex than a genuine sense of self-preservation, Ahsoka did the same and hauled Ashalla up after her.

A pair of guards stepped inside. They drew their shock batons and waved them to ward off the girls closest to them, then retreated to allow the stewardess, a pudgy, squat Theelin woman named Brakka, and her two aides passage.

Her gaze skimmed over the tired, uneasy faces before her for a moment before she spoke. "Well, you fine young things, today is a special day," she barked. "Before the sun is up six of you will be en route to Kyzeron, and a new master."

Kyzeron was the regional capital, which in three years House Noreino had built from a small mining and foresting village into an economic hub to rival the planetary capital of Iziz. It was also, most notably, where the Imperator had his residence. As though the same thought had occurred to her, Ashalla shot Ahsoka a look that could only mean 'I told you so'. It would've been much more effective had Ahsoka not suspected the other girl was about to burst into tears again.

"Best clothes, best behavior – a representative of the Lord Imperator will be along shortly to inspect you in person. You have half an hour," Brakka finished, ignoring the anxious murmurs of the girls assembled before her.

A representative of the Imperator is making the selection personally? That's not normal for a transaction like this, Ahsoka thought, struggling to keep her face void of surprise. Hopefully whatever got through wouldn't look amiss. The master must be making must be a bigger deal with the Noreinos than just settling gambling debts. Something else is going on here, something I can't see...

She almost reached out to touch Brakka's closed, orderly mind. Almost. But it had been so long since she'd used the Force in any real capacity, and if she failed...

Indecision stayed her hand a few seconds too long, and then the stewardess was crossing her arms behind her back and waddling back down the hallway – and any chance of more information with her. The guards remained, and from the leers on their faces Ahsoka had no doubt they intended to stay and watch them.

"Pigs," she muttered, and went to take the skimpy outfit one aide offered her. As Ahsoka shucked her sleeping tunic, Ashalla looked to her for reassurance. Ahsoka bit her lip, but kept her eyes down. She had not the heart to meet her gaze now.

It was an unusually cold morning, but even in the main hall of the manor the humidity hung thick and heavy on the air in such a way that Ahsoka knew it would be a scorching day once the sun came up. She hoped whatever money their master was getting out of this would be enough for a decent new climate control system.

Her conscience bristled at her callous train of thought, but Ahsoka was quick to shove it back down. Perhaps there was some hope for her yet if she wasn't totally desensitized to the plight of the oppressed after everything she'd been through. Either way, now was not the time to dwell on it.

The guards herded the girls into the room and into a line with the male slaves none too gently. To distract herself from their wandering hands, Ahsoka turned her focus to the arrival of the half-asleep stragglers who'd been off warming beds during the night. One of them, a Twi'lek male, came in with the master, as did... Anakin?

First Ahsoka felt like she was going to be sick. Then she thought she could fly.

Anakin's coming, her heart sang as she looked at the golden-haired man, Anakin's found me, he's here to rescue me – to rescue all of us and take us home...

The man stepped out of the backlit hall, and the illusion abruptly fizzled out. The height and hair were right, but the face was too gaunt, the eyes too lifeless a shade of grey, the skin too sickly pale for the likes of Anakin Skywalker. Even the rich brown cloak the man wore had padded shoulders to make him look bigger than he was. This had to be the Imperator's representative.

Ahsoka retreated behind her walls of ice, a necessary perversion of her old Jedi teachings to keep away the grief that should have overwhelmed her by now. Only there was it safe to think the bitter truth: Anakin was gone. Not dead, she hoped, but definitely not here. And as it always had during the Clone Wars, that left Ahsoka to pick up the slack and do what had to be done in his stead.

Her gaze slanted to the side before she could think about it, zeroing in on Ashalla's quaking form a few girls down from her. The representative walked the length of the line, eyeing each slave critically and tapping the occasional note into his datapad. Her heart sank when he gave Ashalla a long, appreciative look. Even as he moved on, it was obvious she was one of the chosen six.

The girl had no help available to her. Rape, torture and perhaps even death awaited her at Noreino House, even if seeing her cousin again beyond the odd comm call would give her a measure of comfort. Ahsoka owed her nothing, and yet...

She felt a hand on her shoulder, or a memory of one – not quite there, but still tangible – and she looked again at the golden-haired representative who was about to read his verdict aloud.

Onderon was worth something to the Empire. Ahsoka had seen as much in the amount of troops stationed even in smaller towns such as this one, and sensed as much in rogue flashes before she learned to keep her gifts properly under wraps. If the Imperator was as important to both the planet and the Empire as she'd heard, there was a good chance he'd have access to lots of top-secret information – the fates of fallen Jedi and the whereabouts of the survivors, for one.

It was a long shot, but the only shot she had at doing something after eleven months in chains. If nothing else, it would save poor Ashalla from the belly of the beast, and dangers against which Ahsoka was much better equipped.

Her mind made up, Ahsoka reached through the barriers she'd built to separate herself from the energy that danced in tune with her emotional center. At first, calling the Force back to her side was like grasping at half-dried mud: flaky and unyielding in some places, slippery and elusive in others. But she remembered how to move with it before long, and the muddiness faded into a slow-moving stream that was solid enough to grasp, should she wish it.

As the representative opened his mouth, she stood tall and proud. Her power was diminished, but sheer strength of will would make up for it. Then, she planted a single thought in his mind like a seed, urging it to grow until he could do nothing but look at her and know she is beautiful, she is desirable, she is worth hungering after.

She is beautiful, she is desirable, she is worth hungering after. The little Twi'lek girl does not compare. She is beautiful, she is desirable, she is worth–

"This one," the man said, pointing to her instead of Ashalla. By then all eyes were on Ahsoka: her pent-up power was getting the better of her and broadcasting the spillover into the other minds present, but she didn't dare relent. She couldn't risk losing the Imperator's representative until he'd made his other choices.

He went back down the line, choosing five others and motioning for them and their master to follow him. As Ahsoka moved into step behind him, she glanced back at Ashalla. The girl's wide eyes rapidly filled with tears as she watched the six of them go. She didn't know how, and couldn't begin to guess it, but Ahsoka could feel Ashalla knew what she'd done.

Thank you, Ashalla mouthed. Ahsoka managed to nod in answer before the nearest guard pushed her forward, and she had to turn away.

The sad but strangely hopeful smile the pretty Twi'lek had worn in that final moment stayed with Ahsoka all through the flight to Noreino House in Kyzeron, as much as the cuffs around her wrists ached and the sharp tang of the other girls' fear polluted what little air there was in the cramped cargo bay.

The stage is set for the tale about to unfold, and this chapter gave us a bit of context in terms of the emotional state and present circumstances of our main protagonist. Nearly two years have passed since the fall of the Republic, and the galaxy is a very different place – particularly on the planet Onderon. But who is this Lord Imperator whose name inspires so much fear? What is the nature of the deal Ahsoka's master made with him? Will Ahsoka's mission to find information about her friends at his residence succeed? Only time will tell...

*starts humming 'Icy' by Kim Petras* Now I got an ice cold heart... Or Ahsoka does, anyway.

I took a lot of cues from the Star Wars: Ahsoka novel when (re)writing this chapter. In the book Ahsoka spends a long time as a muted version of herself unwilling to get close to anyone save in professional settings for her own safety. Reaching into the Force is painful for her because the emptiness of it reminds her of everything she's lost.

The fall of the Republic and the Jedi happened differently in SOTE, and meditating isn't as painful for Ahsoka here, but using her powers is still dangerous. Ahsoka's been beaten down and only survived it by retreating inward, but hey, I think the fact that she took action and saved someone means there's hope for her. I guess we'll have to see if it's a continuing trend...