The afternoon twin suns of Tatooine cast deep shadows across the spaceport as Cass floated through the docking bays, his spirit form shimmering like heat waves. The acrid smell of fuel and hot metal filled the air, mixing with the distant sound of moisture vaporators humming their eternal rhythm. He needed the perfect candidate for the first phase of their mission, securing freedom for both Anakin and Shmi Skywalker without inhabiting the body of an alien. For that, he had to build a bond with Anakin, one that could serve both his deeper goals and their shared escape from slavery.
That's when he spotted him.
The man sat slumped against the landing strut of a modified YT-1300 light freighter, its hull bearing the blue and white insignia of the Republic. Even from a distance, Cass could sense the waves of despair radiating from the figure like heat from sun-baked sand. The spacer looked to be in his thirties, with weathered hands and the kind of thousand-yard stare that came from seeing too much of the galaxy's uglier side.
Perfect, Cass thought, drifting closer to examine his potential host.
The man's clothes were Republic military surplus, clean but worn, practical but not wealthy. His ship, while older, was well-maintained and bore legitimate transponder codes. Most importantly, his appearance felt dim and clouded, dulled by what Cass suspected was a combination of alcohol, regret, and whatever personal demons had driven him to this backwater planet.
"Another broken dreamer," Cass murmured to himself, extending his consciousness toward the spacer's mind. "Just what I need."
The possession was smoother this time, perhaps because he was getting better at it, or maybe because humans were simply more compatible with his particular brand of cosmic intrusion. Unlike the jarring alienness of the Rodian's body, slipping into human form felt like putting on familiar clothes.
The spacer's memories flooded through him in a rush: Marcus Valen, former Republic Navy logistics officer, discharged after a shipping manifest "discrepancy" that had cost him his career and most of his friends. Now he scraped by running supplies to backwater worlds.
Sorry, Marcus, Cass thought as he settled into control. I promise I'll make this worth your while.
The body felt good, better than good, actually. After decades in his arthritic seventy-year-old frame, having young joints and clear vision was intoxicating. Cass flexed Marcus's fingers, rolled his shoulders, and stood up with the easy grace of someone who hadn't spent the last twenty years hunched over a drawing table.
••••
Watto's junkshop buzzed with its usual chaos of mechanical sounds and multilingual haggling. The Toydarian's wings beat their familiar rhythm as he hovered near a towering pile of speeder parts, gesticulating wildly at a moisture farmer who clearly couldn't afford whatever he was trying to sell.
Cass approached the entrance slowly, taking in every detail. Somewhere in the back, he could hear the soft hum of delicate work being done with tools.
"Excuse me," Cass called out in Marcus's crisp accent. "I'm looking for someone who might be able to help with some specialized droid modifications."
Watto's large eyes swiveled toward him, immediately focusing on the Republic insignia on his jacket. Wealth signs practically lit up in the Toydarian's expression.
"Ah! Republic customer!" Watto's wings beat faster with excitement. "Very good, very good. I have finest parts in all Mos Espa. What you need, eh?"
"Actually," Cass said, glancing around the shop with practiced casualness, "I heard you have a young mechanic here who's particularly gifted with complex systems. I have some... sensitive... equipment that requires a delicate touch."
As if summoned by the conversation, Anakin emerged from behind a stack of podracer engines, his small face smudged with grease and his sandy hair sticking up at odd angles. The boy wiped his hands on a stained cloth, his bright blue eyes immediately fixing on Cass with that unsettling intensity that marked him as something special.
"This is Anakin," Watto said, his tone carrying the casual dismissiveness of someone discussing property. "Boy is good with machines, yes. Very good hands."
Anakin looked up at Cass with curious eyes. "What kind of modifications?" he asked, his voice carrying that distinctive mix of eagerness and caution that came from growing up in slavery.
Cass crouched down to bring himself closer to the boy's eye level, noting how Anakin's posture shifted still alert, but less defensive. "Complex navigational systems," he said carefully. "The kind that require someone who really understands how machines think, not just how they work."
The boy's face lit up like Tatooine's twin suns. "I can do that!" he said, then caught himself and glanced nervously at Watto. "I mean... if Watto says it's okay."
The Toydarian waved a dismissive hand. "Is good for business. You work with Republic man, learn something useful for once."
An hour later, Cass found himself in the shop's back workshop, ostensibly examining a disassembled hyperdrive motivator, one he had found among the host's supplies on the ship, while Anakin worked on a speeder's guidance system nearby. The boy's hands moved with impossible precision for someone so young, each motion economical and purposeful.
"You know," Cass said conversationally, "I've been to a lot of systems in my time with the Republic. Seen some amazing things."
Anakin's hands stilled for just a moment. "Really? Like what?"
Cass leaned back against a workbench, letting Marcus's memories of naval service blend with his own decades of Star Wars lore. "Well, there was this one time near the Core Worlds, Alderaan system. We were running supplies to a research station when we got caught in a solar storm."
The boy's work had stopped entirely now, his full attention focused on Cass with the kind of desperate hunger that came from a lifetime of dreaming about anywhere but here.
"The whole ship was lighting up with these incredible aurora displays," Cass continued, warming to his theme. "Colors that don't have names, dancing across the hull like... like the galaxy itself was putting on a show just for us."
"Whoa," Anakin breathed, his eyes wide. "That sounds amazing. I've always wanted to see other worlds. Real worlds, not just..." He gestured around the shop with barely concealed frustration.
"Not just sand and junk dealers?" Cass suggested gently.
Anakin's cheeks flushed. "I didn't mean"
"It's okay," Cass said, and something in his tone made the boy relax. "I get it. This place... it's not exactly the center of the galaxy, is it?"
They worked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the whisper of tools and the distant hum of the shop's cooling systems. Finally, Cass decided to take the next step.
"You know, I saw your podrace last week," he said casually, not looking up from the hyperdrive components.
Anakin's head snapped up so fast Cass was worried he'd given himself whiplash. "You... you really saw my race?" His voice cracked slightly with excitement. "Like, the whole thing?"
"The whole thing," Cass confirmed, unable to suppress a smile at the boy's reaction. "You came in third, right? Behind Sebulba and that Dug pilot from Mos Eisley."
The excitement in Anakin's eyes dimmed slightly. "Yeah. I would've done better, but Sebulba... he plays dirty. Cut my stabilizer cables right before the final turn."
And that's just the beginning of what that particular piece of slime is going to do, Cass thought darkly. But aloud, he said, "Cheating's a coward's game. Real skill doesn't need tricks."
Anakin straightened up a little at that, his chin lifting with something that might have been pride. "That's what I think too. Mom always says that talent wins out in the end."
"Speaking of talent," he said, setting down his tools and turning to face Anakin fully. "I might have a proposition that could put yours to good use."
The boy's expression became cautious again. "What kind of proposition?"
Cass glanced around the workshop, making sure Watto was still occupied with his customer in the front of the shop. When he was satisfied they wouldn't be overheard, he leaned closer to Anakin.
"I need to move some merchandise," he said quietly. "Legitimate stuff, podracer parts, droid components, some navigation equipment. But I need someone who knows how to deal with... shall we say, the more independent traders in the area."
Anakin's brow furrowed in confusion. "Independent traders?"
"Jawas," Cass clarified with a slight smile.
Understanding dawned on the boy's face, followed immediately by excitement. "You want me to help you negotiate with the Jawas?"
"I heard you're good at it," Cass said. "And they trust you more than they'd trust some off-world spacer with Republic credentials."
In the original timeline, Anakin had demonstrated an almost supernatural ability to communicate with the desert scavengers, understanding their complex social hierarchies and trading customs in ways that baffled even seasoned traders.
"I am good at it," Anakin said, and there was no boasting in his voice, just simple, honest confidence. "I help Watto with Jawa trades all the time. They like me because I don't try to cheat them."
Unlike most everyone else on this planet, Cass thought.
"So," he said aloud. "Interested in earning a little something on the side? Nothing that would interfere with your work here, of course."
Anakin's response was immediate and enthusiastic. "Yes! I mean... I'd love to help. You don't even have to pay me or anything. It would just be nice to do something... different."
The casual way the boy dismissed any thought of payment hit Cass like a gut punch. Nine years old, and already so accustomed to being used that he didn't even expect compensation for his skills.
This ends, Cass promised silently. This ends now.
But aloud, he just smiled and extended his hand. "Partners then?"
Anakin's grin could have powered a moisture farm. "Partners."
As their hands clasped, Cass felt a small spark pass between them, not quite the Force, but something deeper. Trust, maybe. Or hope.
Either way, it was a start.
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly as Cass and Anakin worked together on the legitimate repair work that had brought Marcus to the shop in the first place. It was fascinating to watch the boy work, his hands seemed to know exactly where every component belonged, as if he could sense the machines' needs on some instinctive level.
"There," Anakin said finally, stepping back from the completed hyperdrive assembly. "That should give you smooth jumps all the way to the Core Worlds."
Cass examined the work with Marcus's trained eye and had to admit he was impressed. The boy hadn't just fixed the problems, he'd optimized the entire system, improving efficiency by at least fifteen percent.
"Incredible work," he said honestly. "Where did you learn to do that?"
Anakin shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "I don't know. I just... I can see how things are supposed to fit together. Mom says it's a gift."
"Well," he said, packing up the components, "I'd say that gift is going to take you places someday."
"You really think so?" Anakin asked, and the naked hope in his voice was almost painful to hear.
"I know so," Cass replied firmly. "In fact, I'm sure of it."
"So," Anakin said as they put the tools away, "when do you want to meet with the Jawas?"
"How long do you think it would take to set up a meeting?" Cass asked.
The boy considered this seriously. "Depends on what you're trading and how much. For the kind of stuff you're talking about... probably a day to get word to the right clan and arrange a meeting place."
"A day," Cass mused. "That's perfect. Gives me time to get my merchandise organized."
"Where are you getting it from?" Anakin asked with the casual curiosity of youth.
Cass smiled mysteriously. "Let's just say I have my sources."
What he had, in fact, was a plan that would require him to possess one particular Dug pilot and convince him to take an involuntary nap. But Anakin didn't need to know that yet.
"Meet me here tomorrow morning?" Cass suggested. "Same time?"
"I'll be here," Anakin promised. "I'll have everything set up with the Jawas by then."
As he made his way back toward the spaceport, Cass felt a familiar presence stirring in his consciousness, his cosmic partner, no doubt eager to critique his performance.
"So," he thought, opening the mental connection between them. "How did I do for my first day of galactic intervention?"
The response came tinged with what might have been grudging respect.
"Not terrible," the ship admitted. "Though I notice you're already getting emotionally attached to the child."
"Of course I am, afterall he's my favorite in this universe" Cass replied without shame. "The kid fell to the dark side because no one cared enough to really see him as a person instead of a prophecy or a problem. Someone needs to show him that he matters."
"And you think you're qualified for that role?"
Cass paused in his walking, looking up at the vast expanse of desert sky where the first stars were beginning to appear despite the lingering daylight.
"I think I'm the only one crazy enough to try," he said finally. "And sometimes, that's enough."
The ship didn't respond, instead sinking deeper into its own thoughts. This cunning old man… he's definitely hiding something. Trash emotions? Hell, I don't believe a single word from a human's mouth.
The ship wasn't some naive creation, it possessed intelligence, a sharp, calculating mind forged through observation and experience. It knew all too well how dangerous humans could be. Creatures like Cass who had spent their entire existence conjuring meaning out of nothing, shaping realities with nothing but belief and will on a canvas.
He wasn't just some old fool who wasted fifty years drawing cartoons. He had spent those decades exploring the depths of the mind, unlocking layers of existence most never even dared to question. And when you give power to someone like that… someone who has touched the edge of unreality... they can twist the course of entire generations, without anyone even noticing.
As Cass continued toward his temporary lodgings, he couldn't help but smile. Tomorrow, the real adventure would begin. It wasn't that he lacked the power to free both mother and child on his own, he could. But he was playing a far bigger game. One that, if successful, would make him the most powerful force in the galaxy. And at the center of it all stood Anakin.
He wasn't just trying to complete a mission anymore; he had begun shaping his own agenda, one that defied both the Jedi and the Sith. The plan was still in its infancy, but every move he made was a step toward rewriting the fate of the galaxy. But tonight, he just needed to figure out how to knock out a Dug without causing permanent damage.
--
For early access to next chapters and support:
Link: www.patre on.com/Well_being