4 BBY — Chandrila — Day breaks over the bustling market in Hanna City, casting scattered beams of light that dazzle through the various awnings and tents. Arya strides confidently between the stalls, nodding to familiar vendors and exchanging quick, knowing glances with those hawking their wares. Her mind, however, is elsewhere calibrating the myriad tasks lined up for the day as she makes her way toward Shosmi’s ship docked outside the city.
BD, her loyal companion droid, hums along beside her, occasionally whirring and beeping in response to the cacophony around them. As they weave through the throng, Arya feels a lingering awareness that somewhere among the crowd, discussions have taken root concerning a certain white-haired woman frequenting these very paths. It’s an apprehension she files away for later.
Upon reaching the shipyard, Arya spots Shosmi’s vessel gleaming under the morning sun, a sleek silhouette set against the utilitarian structures surrounding it. She climbs aboard, acknowledging the presence of R4-LF1, Shosmi’s astromech droid, who appears to be running diagnostic scans. The buzz of activity momentarily pulls Arya from her thoughts, grounding her back to the task at hand.
“Hey there, Ralphie,” Arya greets, her hands instantly at work checking the status indicator of the hyperdrive panel, courtesy of R4-LF1’s chirpy alert. The droid relays its findings, highlighting issues with the drive’s stability parameters. It’s not unexpected. The ship has been through a lot, but there’s a new problem with the turret mechanism.
“No worries. We can fix this, right BD?” Arya says as she taps BD’s metallic carapace with familiar camaraderie.
BD methodically scans the workspace, while Arya heads to the well-organized parts bin, a testament to R4-LF1’s methodical systems’ management. Within moments, she gathers the essential components, envisioning the modifications necessary to craft a flawless part to refurbish the turret’s rotation mechanism. In the ship’s compact workshop, the rhythmic hum of the lathe and milling tools accompany Arya’s deft hands. She focuses diligently, piece by piece. BD offers assistance by projecting schematics and running simulations for precision checks.
Hours tick by, culminated by the delicate grind of calibrating the final output; a part gleaming and faultless in its perfect engineering. She presents it to R4-LF1 with a mechanic’s confidence. The droid’s evaluation suggests the new part is not only up to standard; it’s potentially superior to the original. With a few shared beeps of contentment and encouragement, R4 fits the component into place. Arya, BD, and R4-LF1 collectively lean into the installation’s critical test phase. BD routes additional data from its archives, hinting at the optimal sequences for turret maneuverability. Arya marvels momentarily at the droid’s ever-growing repertoire, then focuses intently on the calibration. After a few refinements, BD projects a precise holo-diagram to propel their efforts to successful completion.
As the sun dips below the horizon, R4-LF1 rolls beside Arya, updates prepared. There’s something amiss, a new bug in the hyperdrive electroplating coupling; the kind of intermittent fault that can quickly spiral without the right intervention. BD and R4 compare notes through a shared holographic interface, presenting a portrayal of the trouble spot.
“Alright, let’s dig in,” Arya murmurs, her sleeves already rolled up, determination setting her gaze.
As she tunes the electroplating unit, seeking areas to reinforce, a wave ripples through her consciousness — a bonding moment with the ship, a visceral sense of being a part of its flying sanctuary, as pivotal as each nut, bolt, and circuit. Shosmi returns, her presence detectable through the gentle rustle and clamber of boarding. “How’s it going?” she calls out, her tone casual yet edged with curiosity.
“We’re making progress,” Arya responds, brushing stray hair from her face.
A short while later, they break for dinner. The meal with Shosmi is jovial but soon turns contemplative as Shosmi brings up the uneasy topic that’s been tickling at Arya’s mind. Unknown inquiries about the “white-haired market-goer” are enough to shift plans. Together, they resolve to sidestep the market until further notice to cloak themselves in ambiguity.
The following day, Arya embarks on a different routine, ensuring her contact Nora receives a critical Imperial crystal apparatus for a mission in progress. They share cautious updates, packaging the device with care before Nora disappears into assignment-induced shadows. Arya, significantly more aware, steers her focus into preparing Shosmi’s commission—an intricate breastplate designed from formidable and ancient elements.
A familiar knock breaks the solitude of Arya’s afternoon. Knix, an acquaintance from alliance circles, needs his flak jacket repaired. In collaboration, Arya and Knix dissect the jacket’s failings. Recognizing an opportunity, Arya employs “special” materials, distinct in their subtle resilience, impressing Knix with her swift and skilled handiwork.
With the work complete, Arya turns her attention toward safety. She and BD formulate a tactical security protocol, enabling immediate communication should threat shadows arise. Phrases like “Eyes on me” and “Lock the door” take on crucial new meanings of hard-coded signals that prepare them both for swift responses to unforeseen developments.
Alone later, Arya settles into a meditative state. The holocron left by Shosmi remains an enigmatic puzzle, its mysteries calling to Arya with a siren-like insistence. She focuses inward, and the sensation arises — an energetic key turning in an ethereal lock. Light and knowledge spill forth, revealing a Twi’lek image, a virtual guide in ancient moves of lightsaber combat and defensive forms.
Training ensues over the coming days alongside Arya’s artistic crafting of Shosmi’s breastplate. When Shosmi is scheduled to depart, a final fitting becomes the closing ceremony for Arya and Shosmi’s collaborative creation. Shosmi marvels at the material, discerning its origin from a past epoch, and they part with an understanding of shared trust and purpose.
Pushing forward through daily imperatives, Arya seeks transport, the fluctuating ship market constantly reevaluating her prospects. Her datapad buzzes — an Alliance command summons for a meeting awaits nestled ahead in the horizon’s time lapse. She marks it, stores her thoughts, and returns her mind to the day’s duties. Nora resurfaces, and Arya hurriedly tidies their shared space, aware of minute concealed items. They gather for the night’s meal, rich in conversation and recollection. When the majordomo arrives that evening, Arya greets the visitor with a heady mix of polished grace and underlying tension. The exchange of goods, a prearranged commission, culminates in agreeable negotiations. A transfer of credits follows, an invisible point of success forged between closed doors and unopened futures.
Focus returns to constant training, Arya’s commitment unwavering, her craft honed in mental and physical realms now forging paths unseen by others. Even as darkness thickens, she journeys with Nora to their clandestine meeting locale. Alliance matters await.
The dignity of Senator Mon Mothma’s presiding leadership anchors Arya and Nora when formal solution talks yield somber yet necessary strategies. The Empire’s tightening grisly focus, external pressures catalyzing internal resistances. A weighted dance of diplomatic futures and diversifying preparedness punctuates discussion. At the end of the meeting, Mon Mothma approaches Arya with a curious commission. Arya agrees to meet the senator tomorrow for lunch,.
In the sunny warmth of the following day, Arya, cleanly dressed and modestly equipped, arrives at the senator’s appointed venue. The restaurant is serene, brimming with subdued activity. Arya is led to Mon Mothma’s table. A rich, global conversation ensues. As their dialogue matures, Mon Mothma unearths her request. An acquaintance seeks a recreation of a specific historical garment and Mon Mothma understands that Arya is the right person to craft it. Hearing the detail of the request, Arya agrees to take the commission.
At the end of lunch, Mon Mothma entrusts Arya a package that contains the priceless project. Upon returning to her home, Arya opens the package and in her hands is a garment of an ancient lineage imbued with the Force. She begins to grasp the gravity of project. This commission requires precision and a journey into forgotten histories to recreate. As dusk envelops the twilight hours, Arya’s mind whirs incessantly like BD’s processing core. She’s excited to take on the challenge.