Promises are made to be broken. Deals are made to be kept.
[The Mandalorian Season 1-2]
I do not own the Mandalorian or any of the Star Wars Universe characters/settings. I own Alora and her unique story.
Prequel to Promises and Deals --> Truth...
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It took a few days to outfit the starship Fett offered them according to their needs. Alora's wounds, while still aching, were not severe enough to warrant another stay in the bacta tank which gave her time to fix up the old ship. She and Peli worked to remake the droid port to be suitable for Grogu while the main body of the small ship could fit Alora and the Mandalorian. Though squished together, the two would be comfortable enough.
The pilot's seat now rotates with her own in the back so they can reach different parts of the central console easily. There is just enough space for the back seat to recline into a bed just below Grogu's space. If needed, both the pilot's and her seats could recline when placed side by side, though Alora cannot see a situation in the near future when both Alora and the Mandalorian would be sleeping at the same time. Especially not while flying through space.
That ship has sailed.
Though building the ship had been a useful tool to keep her mind occupied, Alora knows she cannot be busy forever. Eventually, she will have to face whatever that dream means. Visions of Dagobah and her past used to be common during the war, but more recently, her dreams consisted of reminders of her mistakes as a High General: Alderaan being destroyed, the Hoth base being compromised, her failures at Bespin. Once she found Grogu, some of that old paranoia had returned, but not to the same extent as now.
Ever since escaping Gideon's ship, Alora's meditations and dreams have been all too similar. As if she stands at the border of two sides she cannot discern all leading backward—all leading to her past. Perhaps it all stems from her history, but she cannot tell. It has always been a mystery she could never admit to wanting to know, but now it is in reach. Now, she knows she can figure out her past if only she is strong enough to return to a planet that broke her spirit irrevocably. Without Yoda's abandonment, she would not be the person she is today.
With easy access to a ship, she knows her resolve will fail. Whether that takes a few weeks, months, or years is in question, but she will break sooner or later. No matter how vehemently she avoided her past during the war, she has always wanted to know. And she knows Luke understands that, despite her objections.
The thought of Luke has been weighing heavily on her. Grogu did not choose the Jedi life, just like Alora. But unlike her, Grogu chose his future, not his past. If she were in Luke's shoes, she would hate herself and blame everyone.
Before their planned departure, Alora took her time saying goodbye to everyone. She and Fett never got to sit down and talk, but she is no longer against seeing him again if the occasion arises. Fennec and Krrsantan returned the beskar steel blades they recovered for her from the battle for Mos Espa. Peli was the most dramatic when it came to their departure, but Alora promised to return soon.
Before they could leave the planet, Alora made a request which is why she now walks alone up to the small hut she called home carved into Tatooine's cliffs. As she walks inside, her hood lying comfortably on her shoulders, she places her palm against the doorframe. "Old Uncle Ben's, huh?" She mutters as she looks around for any signs she had missed before of the previous occupant.
In her time on Tatooine, she had found many hidden compartments, all empty and filled with dust. A few cabinets had boxes with locks easily broken, but nothing remained. She found an old communicator, long broken and outdated with initials carved into the metal: LW. With enough time, she may be able to fix it and see if she can get any use from it. She thought she had found every secret, but knowing that former Master Obi-Wan Kenobi lived here means there could be more.
Alora does a once over of the house, gathering anything she wanted in a small sack: a few teas she had collected, the communicator, some rations, a blanket. She never really had enough to call the place home, but she felt safe here.
Safe enough that as the setting suns of Tatooine shine through the window, Alora places her sack down and sits in the center of the living area with her legs crossed. It may be stupid and foolish, but she has to try, even just once.
Closing her eyes, Alora takes a few deep breaths before she reaches out. The Force has long protected her from others sensing her presence and kept her from finding others, but her connection has shifted. That dream scared her more than she would ever admit again, and she felt utterly alone, fighting an unbeatable battle with the Force. She never knows if she fights with it or against it.
"Luke," she whispers, but her voice is lost to her—just an echo of a sound. "Are you there?"
When she opens her eyes, facing the setting suns, she still finds herself on the cliffside. From the corner of her eye, she can see a dark hood, the hint of blond hair poking out, and a faint scar Luke got on Hoth just before they evacuated.
"Can you hear me?"
He does not respond, and she does not dare push more.
"Something is wrong. I told you before I felt off, but it's more than that. I don't know what to do." Curling her fingers into her palms, she forces herself to keep looking at the window. "I'm sorry. About Grogu. I wouldn't be trying this if I didn't believe I needed help."
The person sitting beside her does not move.
"Maybe I shouldn't have tried this."
The apparition disappears instantly, and she is left alone. Though alone, she still feels connected, like perhaps Luke is not listening, but the Force is. Like she finally can see beyond just reality into the spiritual nature she is supposed to know.
"This may be useless but here goes." Pursing her lips, Alora slowly uncurls her fists. "Is someone listening? Can anyone hear me?"
The wind whistles through the hut and warmth covers her face as she lets her eyes fall closed. It tugs her closer, like a mother's embrace she cannot remember, as if to say I'm here. I hear you. You are not alone.
"Something is wrong with me, and I don't know what to do. I am doing my best, but I am alone."
Stay strong. You are not alone. We are here with you always.
"I can only be so strong for so long. I'm exhausted. And it's only getting worse."
The heat shifts, covering not just her face, but her whole body in comfort. Discover your strength. Relearn your path.
"I don't want to go." Her voice breaks. There is only one place left standing that could teach her of her supposed path. "I can't go back there."
We are with you when you do.
Alora opens her eyes to find the suns have disappeared behind the cliffs. The warmth dissipates as she stands and grabs her bag once more. Taking one last look around, she nods her head out of respect and walks away from the house, pulling her hood over her head.
She travels over the rubble and sand only a short distance away where the Mandalorian waits with his ship, Grogu smiling in his own space. Alora smiles from beneath the hood as she climbs in and takes her seat. "We're good. Where to first?"
