Old and New Friends
Part XI: Old and New Friends
Compared to the assembly of Pau’ans in front of whom she was sitting, Makala looked very small. And even more beautiful than usual, Ahsoka noted. The oldest of Fardi’s daughters had been sent to negotiate the price of new grain shipments with the Farmers’ Association of Utapau on the behalf of her father, and Ahsoka, as her new bodyguard, had followed her to the Outer Rim planet. At first, Ahsoka had been a bit surprised to see that a young woman who didn’t occupy any official position in the government was in charge of such important negotiations, but she quickly learned that the government on Thabeska was so tied to the Fardi clan that there was not much difference between the two anymore. And Makala seemed to handle things perfectly well.
“It’s non-negotiable,” Makala said to the association official with a rare assurance. “My father will not pay more than 6,000 credits for one load. Your industry benefits from government aid. Charging us more than 6,000 credits would be steep and I’m being polite.”
“We received government funding because we had a difficult harvest this year. The money went to our farmers’ families, it is not a form of export aid. Moreover,” he added, joining hands, “I don’t think you are in a very good position to negotiate, miss Fardi. Thabeska is not self-sufficient in terms of agricultural production. I don’t think your people would be pleased to know they cannot eat because your father was too… parsimonious.”
Makala frowned, her gaze suddenly threatening.
“What I think is that my people wouldn’t be pleased to pay twice the normal price for their food. Because they will have something to eat, with or without you. There is no scenario in which Thabeskans die of hunger in my father’s plans, minister Golon.”
The Pau’an raised his hairless brow ridge, slightly surprised by her assertion.
“Surely, you cannot have another seller. Our only competitor on the market right now is Alderaan and it is way too far from Thabeska. With the transport costs, it would be much more expensive for you to buy Alderaanian merchandise rather than ours.”
“I can’t give you the details of our current negotiations with other potential sellers, but what I can tell you is that you’re gravely mistaken on one point. The same quantity of grain from Alderaan would cost us 6,750 credits per crate, which is just a little less than the 7,000 credits you’re charging us. But once accumulated, those 250 credits would constitute a significant cost saving.”
“You’re bluffing,” her interlocutor said.
Makala didn’t smile but Ahsoka saw in her eyes that she knew she had won. She didn’t need to convince the Pau’ans, only to create a doubt in their minds.
“I think you’re the ones who needs us. You did have a bad season. Your surpluses are not sufficient to provide supplies for big planets. You lost many contracts this year. Thabeska is one of your last clients and taking the chance to verify if I lie is not really a luxury you have.”
The Pau’an leaned towards his colleague who whispered something in his ear.
“6,000 credits it is, then,” he finally said. “But only if you buy our milk in addition to the rest.”
“I’ll transmit the proposition to my father, but I think there should be no problem.”
The Pau’an slightly bowed.
“It was a pleasure to do business with you, miss Fardi.”
He didn’t look like he meant it.
“You were brilliant back there,” Ahsoka told Makala as they were walking back to their ship.
“Thank you. Coming from someone who used to live among Coruscanti politicians, I take it as a compliment.”
Ahsoka tried to hide the panic in her voice.
“How…? I mean, I never said… Who told you that?”
“Relax,” Makala said with a smile. “It was just a guess.”
“A bad one, then.”
“Really? You seemed to have a good understanding of what was happening around that table. And I doubt foster homes on Coruscant teach their pupils how to negotiate food imports.”
“Well, I didn’t understand all of it.”
“If you say so,” Makala replied with a smirk.
Ahsoka didn’t respond. She knew continuing to lie wouldn’t convince Makala and she couldn’t tell her the truth, either. In that kind of case, it was best to stay silent. Her thoughts turned to Padmé. Today, for the second time since she had met Makala, the Fardi girl had reminded her of her friend. Despite her young age, Padmé had been an exceptional speaker and a ferocious negotiator.
“You would have made an excellent senator,” Ahsoka finally said, almost whispering.
Makala smiled but she knew better than to comment that last sentence.
“Come on,” she only said. “I want to announce the good news to my father.”
She walked towards their ship parked on a landing platform on the edge of a large pit, but turned around when she noticed Ahsoka wasn’t following her.
“Ashla?”
But Ahsoka barely heard her, suddenly overwhelmed by a terrible pain. A mix of fear, confusion and betrayal. She recognized it, for she had experienced it twice in the past. The first time, when she had been wrongly accused of Letta Turmond’s murder and the second, just weeks ago, when Rex and the other clones had turned against her. But the pain she was now feeling wasn’t hers.
“Ashla, are you okay?”
Makala had come back at her side, her eyebrows frowned with concern.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” Ahsoka said, her palms on her temples. “I’m just a bit dizzy. I should have eaten more this morning.”
She tried to make a reassuring smile, but it probably didn’t seem convincing because it only caused Makala to frown more.
“Mmm… I think we’ll find something to eat before leaving, then”
“No really, it’s okay. I’ll just…”
“That wasn’t a suggestion. You’re my pilot; for both our sakes, I don’t want you to pass out while we’re flying.”
Ahsoka wasn’t in the mood for quibbling.
“Alright, then. Go ahead, I’ll join you in a minute.”
Makala cast her another worried look but didn’t argue. Her friend gone, Ahsoka walked to the edge of the crater. It was so deep that she couldn’t see the bottom of it. She remembered Obi-Wan had been on Utapau just before order 66. Was this where Cody had tried to kill him? It was hard to tell. Despite all the things Ahsoka could feel in this place, death wasn’t one of them. Or at least, not Obi-Wan’s death.
She smiled.
“Feeling better?” Makala asked as Ahsoka joined her inside the cantina she had found.
“A bit, thank you.”
The cantina was carved in the rock that surrounded the pit but the front façade overlooking the crater was missing a wall, which provided enough sunlight to keep the place fully illuminated. Ahsoka sat down in front of Makala.
“I commanded some haroun bread. I didn’t know if you like it, but it was the only thing on the menu that didn’t have raw meat in it.”
“Haroun bread is fine. Thank you.”
After three years of ration packs, anything was fine. They began to eat in silence. Ahsoka noticed the side glances Makala cast in her direction, but she waited for the Fardi girl to speak first, which she eventually did after a few minutes.
“You know,” Makala began, excessively focused on her plate. “I’ve never properly thanked you for… you know… Bija’an.”
The name alone was enough to make her wince.
“Oh! Well… You don’t need to thank me for that. It was the only thing to do.”
Makala snorted.
“Believe me, I know a lot of people who would have ignored it out of fear of Bija’an.”
“I’ve met people more frightening than him.”
“Yeah… I think you’re tougher than you look,” Makala said with a little smile.
Ahsoka burst out laughing.
“Your father told me the same thing.”
“Is that why he asked you to spy on me?”
Ahsoka stopped laughing.
“It wasn’t hard to figure out,” Makala said.
Her gaze wasn’t accusatory, only sad. Ahsoka didn’t try to deny it.
“Yes. But I only agreed because I thought it could help to protect you.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not mad at you. I knew it would happen someday.”
“You knew he would try to spy on you?”
“I knew he would try to control the people I see.”
She sighed.
“He’s not my real father, you know. He’s my uncle. My mother was his favorite sister, but she fell in love with a union activist from a speeder factory. When she got pregnant, her sisters put pressure on my uncle to ban her from the family. Officially, they said her marriage with someone from a lower class had brought dishonor to the family. But I just think they were jealous. They all had an arranged marriage while my mother had chosen her husband. My uncle was torn between his love for his sister and the pressure from the rest of the family. So, he chose to let my mother live with her husband but he requested that her children grow up with the rest of the clan. My sisters and I were each given to him just after our birth. To us, he is our real father. We were allowed to visit our parents once in a while, but they were like strangers to us.”
“That’s… That’s horrible. And your parents agreed with this?”
“No, but they didn’t have a choice. My uncle is the most powerful man of Thabeska. My mother… She killed herself just after Hedala’s birth. It was… traumatic for my uncle. His pain blinded him. He became convinced my mother would still be alive had she made an arranged marriage like her sisters. Since then, he does everything he can to ensure my sisters and I won’t follow our mother’s footsteps.”
She sighed.
“I’ve always suspected Bija’an to keep an eye on the people I was seeing. Now it’s your job.”
“I’m sorry, Makala,” Ahsoka said, taking her hand.
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”
She gave Ahsoka a small smile.
“I’m actually glad you’ve accepted it. It allows me to spend time with a friend.”
**********
“Father, please!” Makala said, a hint of despair in her voice.
She was sitting on a couch in the lounge of Fardi’s house where her father usually received his guests.
“No.”
The answer was unequivocal.
“You did well on Utapau. Extremely well, actually. And I’m very proud of you. But I don’t want you to be involved in our… other kind of business,” Fardi said.
“But I’m your best negotiator, you said it yourself! And now that Bija’an is… gone, there’s nobody else who can go there.”
Fardi rose from his couch and began to pace the room silently. Makala took it as an encouragement to continue.
“I go there; I give them the crates; I take the money and I come back here. This is just business; I do this all the time. The only difference is the contents of the crates.”
“And the people you’re dealing with,” her father replied. “If something goes wrong, they won’t hesitate to…”
He shook his head.
“No, I can’t let you do that.”
“But what could go wrong? They already proved they could pay us and all the merchandise is ready to be shipped.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“I have my sources,” Mekala answered, folding her arms.
“You seemed well informed,” her father sighed.
“I am. I’m more prepared than you think.”
“I don’t doubt it. But what worries me is when things don’t go as planned.”
“Then I’ll have Ashla.”
Fardi sighed again.
Ahsoka sensed her friend coming before Makala even had the chance to knock on her door.
“Ashla? Ashla, are you there?”
Even without the Force, Ahsoka could hear the excitement in her voice. She rose from her mattress where she had been trying to meditate and went to the door.
“Pack your things, we’re leaving tonight!” Her friend said as soon as Ahsoka opened.
“Already? We just got back from Utapau.”
“I know, I know. I wasn’t supposed to be the one in charge of this mission, but my father accepted to let me go.”
“Alright then,” Ahsoka said. “It’s not like I have that much things to pack.”
Not to say nothing at all.
“So... What is this mission?” Ahsoka asked as she began searching for some ration bars and her cloak.
“It’s only a delivery. A group of activists bought some… supplies to my father.”
Ahsoka frowned. The answer couldn’t have been vaguer, which meant the delivery had probably nothing to do with grain and milk.
“And can I ask where we’re heading so hastily?”
“Sure. You’ll know sooner or later, anyways. We’re going to Onderon.”