Edge of the Tatooine System – The Naboo Yacht Maria

“That, that is Tatooine?” The planet was a fiery ball of gold burned almost as bright as a sun. Two orbs of light hovered off in the distance, the true suns of this system. They overpowered the reflected brightness of Tatooine, but not by much.

“That is Tatooine, the home of Skywalker?” The young man demanded, as he gazed out the view port of his ship.

“It is indeed” came the metallic reply from the ship’s computer. I have piloted us accurately Master Tobal.

“I just thought it would be … different … in some way.”

“This is Tatooine, according to the star-charts we are…”

With an angry grunt, the man called Tobal cut the computer off. “You are helpful, but I believe whoever made you was a little too helpful himself.”

“Yes, I am helpful. I am programmed to assist you in every way possible.” Rattled the tinny, filtered voice. “I am programmed to pilot this ship. I am programmed to …”

“Yes, I know. Please be quiet.”

The computer complied, shutting down its speaker system. Tobal turned, and glanced at his companion. The other man returned the gaze with a level look, and nodded. So this Tatooine . The birthplace of Skywalker. Tobal turned and exited the bridge of the yacht, and the pilot began to take the ship down. Fifty meters of arrow shaped ship sped invisibly through the black space, down toward the planet below.



“This is Tatooine, Tobal. It is the birth place of Skywalker. The computer has not made a mistake.” Nugul Gry said. He was a tall, wiry man with a grizzly beard and hair that looked like it had never seen a comb. Tobal had met him on Clak’Dor, and had immediately shined to his rough yet gentle mannerism. Three men were sitting around a bar of sorts. Tobal, Nugul, and one other.

“I know Nugul, I know. It just didn’t look like the book said it did.”

“I hope the book said that it was hot, because hot it is Tobal,” spoke up the other man. He went by the single name of Lehk. “Hot enough to burn the skin off of your feet if you’re not careful. It’s so hot people don’t even step outside during the dual noon. Water is in high demand, if you could get a successful water trade going there, you’d have it made. The Hutts don’t permit that, of course.”

Tobal nodded, his eyes beginning to look vacant. He had heard all this information before when his friends had tried to persuade him from taking a trip to the force-forsaken planet. He hadn’t listened then, and he wouldn’t listen now.
Who didn’t want to walk where the legendary Skywalker walked? See what he saw, feel what he felt. Skywalker. The name had a regal sound. One, which walked the sky, ran with the gods, and lived forever. That’s what it meant in his language. Tobal shook his head slightly. Deep inside he knew that this trip to Tatooine was just an attempt to hide the homesickness he felt, yet he refused to admit it. He would learn about this Skywalker, who had mastered the Force. This Skywalker was much like himself, an orphan, homeless, yet he had found his place.

Perhaps in his search he could find his place too.


“Wake up Tobal! We’re there. Wake up lad!”

Tobal’s head moved slightly, and he came out of his revere. “What?” he asked.

“We’re entering the Tatooine atmosphere now, we’ll be landing within ten minutes. Then you can head out and find your blasted 'home of Skywalker'.”

“Don’t like the heat, Lhek?”

“No sane man does, you crazy tribal.”

Tacita Darklighter watched Tatoo II sink slowly into the horizon, like a molten orb submerging itself in a golden, shimmering sea. Still a beautiful sight, I have to admit, she thought, getting to her feet and brushing sand off her pants as she continued to squint into the distance, admiring the sunset. Sandy planets always have the best sunsets. And polluted planets.

A warm breeze blew lightly past, causing her dark, wavy hair to move fitfully, as though signaling Tac’s own restlessness, and she finally turned to make her way down the cliffside near her old homestead. A native of Tatooine, Tac hadn’t been to the planet of her birth in years. Growing up with a name like Darklighter wasn’t exactly a memory she had cherished, and she’d kept away from those types of comparisons her whole life. A pilot I may not be, but I’ve got my talents, she mused, a slow grin spreading across her face. And at least my name's not Skywalker.

But that’s not why Tac was here. She was here to relax, to visit her old stomping grounds: Anchorhead, Mos Eisley, Mos Espa, the old pod racing arena – which had been turned into a swoop track and eventually fallen to ruin, or so Tac had heard. Gotta see that to believe it. The pod racing had been deemed far too dangerous, and was discontinued long before her time, but she’d won her fair share of credits on a swoop or two. And my unfair share. She shook her head at the memory: some of those racers had been more reckless than even she had been, taking old pods and simply putting a seat, a wind screen, and a couple of control vanes on them. Even I’m not that crazy.

Her brother had put an end to her racing days, though, forbidding her on pain of death from competing, which to Tac made absolutely no sense at all. And then he’d spread the word among her friends that she was a little rich girl, heir to the Tatooine Rum fortune, effectively ending her days as “one of them.” As with many things he’d done for her protection, she had never forgiven Draven for that, and it was one of the myriad reasons she’d finally left Tatooine, abandoning the family business she was supposed to be learning. Womp rat.

But that’s not why Tac was here, either. She’d made her peace with her big brother long ago, though she still never used any of the money supposedly secured away somewhere in her name; preferring instead to catch rides and work her own passage across the galaxy. And make a little extra here and there at the sabacc tables... Tac prided herself on her ability to read the body language of all humans and most aliens, and seldom lost at sabacc. As long as there’s not a Gotal at the table, I’m set. She’d learnt about Gotals the hard way, long ago on Coruscant, and slept in an alley that night, completely stripped of all her possessions, after the alien had used his head cones to penetrate past her sabacc face to her surface thoughts. She’d managed to win back enough credits the next night to hop a freighter offworld and salvage what was left of her dignity. That was a hell of a thing.

Shaking her head, Tacita grinned again to herself and climbed on her swoop. “Well, Kitty,” she said, addressing it as if it were a cherished pet, even patting its side affectionately, “you may not be a pod-swoop, but I don’t think I’ll be needing to break the sound barrier any time soon.”

Putting on her goggles – for she had in fact tinkered with the swoop enough to add quite a bit more speed – she fired up the engine and took off toward Mos Eisley, her hair whipping in the wind.

*puts this RP on next to-do*

:)

Take your time, I'm swamped. :p

It was hot. Even with the dual suns setting, it was hot. Stepping outside of the Maria, Tobal blinked as a wave of heat assaulted his face. It was a shocking change, from the carefully regulated environment of the Maria to a blast furnace.

"It'll cool down in a few hours," shouted Lhek, over the descending whine of the Maria's engines. "Now's the best time to look around."

Tobal nodded in assent. His friend had seen more of the galaxy than he. An inkling of vague forms of trouble dripped across his mind, a premonition from the force, perhaps? It was very faint, but Tobal wasn't one to take rash chances. This was a strange country, with strange customs. He checked his gear, making sure he had everything.

"Want to just browse the town t'night?" asked Nugul, as he walked out of the Maria's hatch, and onto the ramp. Tobal nodded in assent, and Nugul grunted. "We can look for the home of Skywalker tomorrow, best not to go running off at night." Nugul ducked back into the Maria for a moment, and retrieved his hat, and coat.

"What say w'hit a few bars, eh boy? I'd like to play a game r'two of Sabbac..."

"Why?" asked Tobal, curious, "You lost every game we played on the way over."

"I prefer t'play with people who don't know what one thinks," returned Nugul, tapping his temple. Tobal opened his mouth to protest, but the older man was already trotting down the ramp. "C'mon!" he called back.

Muttering to himself, Tobal jogged down the ramp in pursuit. Lhek appeared from under the ship - he had been checking some of the landing gear - and joined them. Upon asking where they were headed, and receiving an answer, he grunted.

"Just keep yer wits about you boy," he said. "This isn't some Jedi Temple, where rules are enforced with strictness."



They hit two bars before finding one that had a moderate amount of patrons, without being too crowed or sparse. Nugul found himself a table to play at, and Lhek buddied up to the bartender. Tobal found a table in a darkened corner, most of the corners here were darkened, and asked the serving droid to pick a random drink. People of the galaxy had strange customs, gambling their money away, or drinking it away. Nugul would play Sabbac until his money ran out, or someone shot him, Lhek would drink until he couldn't see straight, and then stagger back to the ship... Then the next day they would complain about having to get up.

But they did it, over and over, not seeming to mind the memories of their last experience while they began a new one. It would be a long night, waiting for these two to complete their separate missions.