“Your depression is connected to your insolence and refusal to praise…be grateful…That which is false troubles the heart, but truth brings joyous tranquility…”
Rumi
“We are a small, but growing band of spiritually advanced warriors,” Tryst explained. They were sitting under a transparent canopy, somewhere in the interstellar void, sufficient star light to light their face, but for some reason there were candles in their midst, as if they were making this a formal introduction ceremony. The small, personal freighter was a Samhein-class Stealth Freighter, so rare a ship that it was most likely stolen, but in overall great condition.
Capable of hauling 400 hundred metric tons, its bay was currently half full. “Our groups are limited to seven individuals. If we get more, we divide and become independent groups. I’m the lead of this grouping, and Cheeka has seniority. I am in contact with two other group leaders, one of which initiated me. We train each other. We teach each other what we know, and we work together to improve our abilities. At a certain point in the training, individuals are encouraged to leave the group and start their own. We don’t teach dogma or personal beliefs. We don’t ignore them, they’re important to what makes us individuals. We teach what works. Dark side, light side, we teach it all. If collectively we can sense it, measure it, share it, use it, and it has demonstrable affects, then we use it. You with me so far?”
“So, you admit to using the Dark side of the Force?” Daphne said.
“I admit to using the Force,” Tryst said.
“The unsanctioned use of the Force can only lead to pain and suffering,” Daphne said. “You arrogant little bi..” Crusher said.
Tryst held up a hand, stopping all sound from his mouth. “Have you forgotten the rule of the Circle? Initiates are allowed to speak their minds. You cannot bring people to the Light if you won’t first listen,” Tryst said. When Crusher lowered his eyes, showing deference to his Master, Tryst let go of the Force. “Would you like to continue with your philosophy, Daphne?”
“I said my peace. Clearly you have demonstrated how you control others,” Daphne said.
“I have done nothing to harm him and I have treated him as a Jedi would a Padawan, a child needing to be disciplined,” Tryst said. “Why do you suppose Jedi train children, not adults? As long as he is my Padawan, he is my child, and I will discipline him as I see fit. I take responsibility for his advancement.”
“How can you take responsibility for anything, hiding in the dark?” Daphne asked.
“Fair enough. To be honest, we’d like to be more open, but when you’re preyed upon by the light and dark alike, well, you tend to learn discernment,” Tryst said. “The Jedi would never prey on you,” Daphne said.
“All I can do is point to the history books to show you otherwise. In fact, I can provide you with Jedi data banks listing literally over a hundred thousand Jedi candidates that were washed out or otherwise unable to complete their ‘official’ training,” Tryst said. “We owe our existence to the Jedi Order. ‘Too old to start the training is this one. Too angry is this one. Too caught up in his feelings for his lover is this one. This one broke a rule. This one’s acted against the advice of the counsel.’ There are as many excuses for baring someone from official ‘Jedi’ progress as there are people who were rejected. The Jedi maintain there are two paths, the light or the dark. I’m making myself very plain and open to you. We don’t distinguish between sides.
There are many paths, and the Force is open to all. Dark side of the Force, light side of the force, it’s all the Force.”
“My brother teaches something similar,” Daphne said.
Cheeka laughed. Looking at her kneeling/sitting there was strange, the way her legs and thighs folded together. It was the perfect “seiza” form of sitting, but odd because of the extra joints. She could probably spring up, launching herself into a dead run if she needed to flee.
“What’s so funny? You see a distinction?” Daphne asked.
Cheeka looked to Tryst, and when he acknowledged her, she bowed to him, and then met Daphne’s eyes to answer respectfully. “Your brother has attached himself to a particular belief system, one in which I don’t follow. We have no dogma. We have no philosophy. We merely employ what works, where he employs philosophy,” Cheeka said.
“Sticking to what works is a dogmatic, philosophic practice, by definition,” Daphne argued.
“True enough,” Tryst agreed, making himself the focus of the conversation.
“And when dogma and belief start getting in the way, which it ultimately does, we purposely go out of our way to destroy it, by challenging it and doing exactly opposite of what our beliefs instructs us to do. We force consequences. Consequences are the only way to determine if our beliefs are measuring something real, or if it’s just a relative belief which is true, but is not Truth. Truth exists, and will continue to exist beyond our practice.”
“I don’t understand. Give me an example,” Daphne asked. “You already have an example,” Tryst said.
“No I don’t,” Daphne argued.
“You were intimate with your brother,” Cheeka pointed out.
“Do we have to keep discussing that,” Crusher asked. “It’s just sick.”
“We will continue discussing it until you no longer see it as sick,” Tryst said, emphasizing his impatience at his ‘Padawan’s’ sense of judgment.
“But he is right,” Daphne said.
“Is he?” Tryst asked. “Most cultures, not all, make that behavior taboo. You engaged in it. Did you die?”
“No, but…”
“No butts,” Tryst said, trying to be funny. When his attempt at humor failed, he continued. “There are worlds where the ruling class families maintain their authority and power by breeding only within the family. It is a cultural position. You have broken a social rule and discovered there isn’t a penalty outside of what you place on it. Additionally, you broke the covenant of your Jedi order, surrendering to lust and forsaking celibacy, and yet, surprisingly, you’re still a Jedi. Your powers were not taken from you and you were not plunged into a dark pit.” He was tempted to surrender to his personal rant about his theory of how the Skywalkers’ genetic link to the force was due to inbreeding, but he was so use to his theory driving away recruits that he had learned to keep it to himself, while continuing to internally refine his arguments that ‘this’ made greater sense to him than the ‘stories’ of Anakin being born of a virgin. He had stumbled upon a group who were worshipping Shmi, Anakin’s mother, and had slaughtered them, hoping to extinguish that light, but surprisingly, there were Shmi fanatics everywhere these days, and with them came the people who longed for Vader to return to rule.
“I’m no longer a Jedi,” Daphne said.
“You will never not be a Jedi,” Tryst said, expressing this rhythmically to drive the point. “You were formally trained. You are full of dogma and social constructs that need to be broken so that you can see reality for what it is, but thanks to your brother, you are well on your way to finding Truth. So, in some sense, your brother has liberated you. You owe him that much. Here’s the deal. Without the Jedi Order or a dominating Sith structure to train natural or wild talent, few people will ever reach the threshold of Jedi status or the equivalent. Oh sure, you’ll get a few gurus here and there, but without discipline, it always turns into guru worship and sex. Sound familiar so far?”
“That’s not G,” Daphne protested.
“Why, because he is telling people not to worship him? Get real, Daphne. The best way to get people to worship you is to tell them not to worship you,” Tryst said.
“He’s genuine. He cares,” Daphne said.
“Of course he is,” Tryst said, almost impatiently. “I have no doubt he is charismatic, very friendly, loves everyone. Those are true things, but that isn’t Truth. I also imagine he always gets his way. That is certainly not truth. Not for most people. He is no doubt one of the strongest Jedi ever, I dare say even stronger than Vader, but he is too self-serving to ever accomplish anything half as great. He has no plans, no commitment to a better future. He is lukewarm. Quite frankly, people like him should be destroyed… but, he is also a beacon, a light that will draw in talent.
Some will be caught up in his web of lies, but others, like you, will see beyond it to a greater truth. And that is why you run. It is from his own outcasts we will derive our recruits. And we will build something that lasts, something unbreakable, something that neither Jedi nor Sith can destroy. We keep our groups small, diverse, and nomadic, that way we will survive the chaos of the wars that inevitably come. As a member of our group, I will want you to maintain a relationship with your brother.”
“I don’t want anything to do with him… I hate him. I hate our family,” Daphne said. “You don’t get it, Daphne. It’s not your hate that’s killing you. It’s your love,” Tryst said. “I won’t do it,” Daphne said.
“And no one in our group will ever force that issue,” Tryst assured her. “We always support each other.”
“Until you stab them in the back like you did with that creature in the jail?” Daphne asked.
They all laughed.
“I don’t get it,” Daphne said.
“That creature was a construct,” Cheeka said. “I still don’t get it,” Daphne said.
“We are teaching ourselves the ability to summon creatures. Of course, we don’t want to just call random spirits. That’s a bit reckless. So, what we’re doing instead is projecting our own personality traits into a physical vessel that we create in tandem,” Tryst said.
“And we’re getting quite good at it. The bodies no longer dissipate completely, and they remain intellectually functional for nearly four standard days, before going all animalistic on folks,” Cheeka said, amused and proud. “Personality matrixes are difficult. No matter how many good characteristics we try to infuse into a construct, they always get some negative ones. It probably means something.”
“Why don’t you stick around long enough to see the next making,” Tryst invited. “I’ve given you general idea about what we’re about. I won’t compel you to stay longer, or listen to more. But I really want you to stay with us.”
“I want you to stay with us,” Cheeka said, touching her arm with the tip of her tail.
Crusher nodded, a slight ruddiness visible in his waddle even in the candle light. “I want you to be an ‘us’, too.”
“Join us,” Tryst invited.
“I can’t you join,” Daphne said, her statement wasn’t an absolute. It hardly even sounded like resistance.
“You can’t run from Waycaster,” Tryst told her. “I am not running!” Daphne said.
“Yeah, you are,” Tryst said. “You’re not running from yourself, because that’s just ludicrous, wherever you go there you are. By the same definition, you can’t run from Waycaster, because you carry him with you. I sense you carry your mother in the same way. You don’t have the ability or strength to stand up and cut the ties appropriately. I can give you that strength. We can give you that strength. In some ways, running from G is smart, because you recognize he is too charismatic for you to fight. And I am not disparaging him, Daphne. I suspect he is incredibly smart, but not intellectually smart, but rather, kind of autistic kind of smart, pulling numbers out of his hat that even Droids have to pause to calculate. Only, he isn’t pulling numbers. He drawing on the Force. Socially speaking, he is probably like 14 years old.”
“Pan!” Cheeka said, amused. “What?” Tryst and Daphyne said.
“Oh, sorry,” Cheekah said. “An archetype from my social structure of a fawn who refused to grow up. We do not have priestesses, per say, but I am a devote of Pan and considered a nymph, which is like being an apprentice in many ways.”
“Umm, that sounds incredibly relevant. Thank you for contributing,” Tryst said. Cheeka blushed, and bowed. Crusher seemed pouty.
“You want to be with Waycaster because he will keep you internally young, but the thing is, your youth sucked, and you want to grow up and stop playing the games that are so pervasive in society. I can offer you that. We can offer you that. We can protect you from Waycaster until you learn to stand, and when you do finally stand, it won’t matter if he were here or nowhere, because you will be free of the games, free of the drama, free of hold of you,” Tryst said.
“What do I have to do? Give you an oath of allegiance?” Daphne asked.
“Hardly anything that crude. I am neither Sith nor Jedi demanding your devotion,” Tryst said. “I just require your submission. The same way you surrender to the Force.”
“I don’t understand,” Daphne said.
“You must become vulnerable with us and to us,” Cheeka said.
“Take your clothes off,” Crusher said.
“What?” Daphne said, her anger might have resulted in a shove had she not been sitting, and opposite the circle from him.
“The only way for you to experience firsthand unconditional acceptance is for you to open yourself up to us, risk ridicule and humiliation. All your life has been about conditions. Do what your mother says, or she withholds affection. Do what the Jedi say, or you can’t be one.
Staying with Waycaster was conditional on you accepting that what you did with him was innocent and acceptable. Now you are here, facing the first of a series of incremental challenges that will ultimately reveal to you and everyone, you are one of us,” Tryst said. “Now, stand up, remove your clothing, and submit to us fully.”
Daphne couldn’t speak the words, but she heard it in her mind. She wanted speak them, but couldn’t even get her lips to move. They were important words. Something all Jedi should know. She wasn’t sure if the words in her mind were hers or the memory of other people speaking. “Once you start down the dark path…” She found herself standing. There were stars and candles and eyes staring at her. She felt certain there were more eyes here staring than what were physically here. The call to submit became louder than the other voice. She was sighing even as her robe was falling.
Em found the climb down challenging, but she reached the top of the East Dam wall without falling. The water was almost to the top of the dam. Gentle waves hit the wall and reflected back out over the surface, over lapping waves and sparkling in the afternoon sun. Occasional fish heads stuck their noses out and then disappeared. Once, a solidary stalk with an eye raised up above the water level, looked around, and then went back under. Insects skated the water’s surface and some were eaten by the fish heads. She proceeded down the path and was practically on top of the girl she was following before the girl gave her scrutiny. Em smiled at her. She liked the skirt and the matching pink leggings. She was also wearing two shirts of opposing colors, an inner one that fit snugly with long sleeves, and the outer one which hung loosely about her.
“You’re not supposed to be down here,” Ten said. “You are,” Em pointed out.
“I live here,” Ten said. “So do I,” Em said.
Ten turned back to her book, too angry to read straight, but not so angry she felt the urge to chase the kid off. Chasing people away rarely worked, which left you with the option of having to physically hurt someone or leaving yourself. She didn’t want to escalate to violence to compel the kid to leave. The fact she thought about violence disturbed her. Fighting was her past. She told herself to let go.
“What’cha doing?” Em asked. Ten looked at her. “Really?”
“Really what?” Em said, not hearing the sarcasm. “It’s not obvious?” Ten asked.
“I don’t think I have ever seen someone as shiny as you,” Em said. “You’re even brighter than I am. Oh. He healed you, too. No. Bigger than a healing. Oh. He brought you back!”
“You’re creeping me out,” Ten said.
“I’m sorry. I do that,” Em said, sitting down next to Ten. “Do you think it’s safe to dangle my feet in the water?”
“Sure,” Ten said.
Em kicked out of her shoes, sat down, and put her feet in, kicking lightly. “I’m pretty sure they don’t eat people,” Ten said.
Em pulled her legs out so quick that she nearly fell backwards. Ten laughed.
“That was mean,” Em said.
“Yeah,” Ten agreed. “I’m mean. That’s your invitation to leave.”
“I can’t, yet. I want to know what you’re doing,” Em said.
“I’m reading,” Ten said. “Really?” Em asked.
Ten got really serious and spoke slowly as if speaking to a moron. “This is a book. It has words. People read them.”
“Does it have an auditory interface?” Em asked.
“No. Do you know why I came down here?” Ten asked. “To read?” Em asked.
“Yes. You know why I came down here to read?”
“No,” Em said.
“Because it was quiet and I need quiet to read,” Ten said.
“Oh,” Em said. She watched Ten as she continued with her process. Ten closed the book. “What?!”
“Are you finished reading?”
“No. But I can’t read when you’re staring at me,” Ten said.
“Me personally, or people in general?” Em asked.
Ten sighed. “What do I have to do to make you go away?” Em considered. “I don’t want to go away. I like you.”
Ten blinked. “I don’t understand.”
Em shrugged. “What’s to understand?’
“Why don’t you go play with someone your own age?” Ten asked.
“Because, they don’t get me,” Em said. “Did you know, no one here knows who Flumox the Interloper is?”
“Well, that’s regional,” Ten said. “Regional?”
“Yeah, it’s a holographic series that only plays on Axxila, southern region,” Ten said. “So, you know Flumox?” Em said.
“I use to watch it when I was your age,” Ten said.
“I brought recordings of it, but my player isn’t working,” Em said. “Mom doesn’t know why.”
Ten studied the girl for a moment. She saw nothing remarkable. No lights. No mystery.
“He healed you?”
“G? Yeah. That’s why I am here,” Em said. “And you see things?” Ten asked.
“Yeah,” Em said.
“Like what?” Ten said.
“Mostly lights, especially around people, animals, plants. Sometimes around objects, especially if someone uses it a lot,” Em said.
A car rose up over the side of the dam. Two security officers, looking very unhappy, scrutinized the two girls. “What are you kids doing here?”
“What’s it look like we’re doing?” Ten asked.
The officer on the passenger side exited the vehicle, joining the girls on the wall. “Come on. We’ll take the lift up,” he said.
“There’s a lift?” Em asked.
“You didn’t know that?” the officer asked.
“I followed her down the side of the mountain,” Em said.
The officer looked towards Sister One. “You both climbed down that?” he asked, pointing. He sighed. “You know I am going to have to report this to your parents.”
“My parents own this place,” Ten said.
“Oh? So you’re Ten,” he said, as if that explained everything. “Come on. There’s a storm coming and this area isn’t safe.”
Ten and Em got up and followed the officer to the entrance of a lift that was cut directly into the rock face exposed at the top of the dam. The car the officer arrived in continued on its inspection of the dam wall.
Isho entered, followed by three Wookies. Emmer and Corissa stood to greet them. The tallest one, from the cafeteria the days before, introduced herself as Shariva. She introduced her daughter Cheeri, who was the equivalent of an adolescent, though technically older than a human. Cheeri was holding a crate, and simply nodded as Emmer translated Shariva’s introduction. Shariva introduced the infant she carried in a papoose near her bosom next. ‘Frizzie’ seemed to know he was now the subject of discussion, and clung tighter to his mom, burying his face into her fur, peaking out with one eye.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Corissa said, indicating they could take the chairs.
Shariva reached into her bag and pulled out thee stones. She sat the smallest one on her side of Corsica’s desk, and then proceeded to balance the second one on the first, and then finally balanced the third on top of the second, providing an example of balance without apparent symmetry.
“Wow,” Corissa said.
Emmer translated for Shariva. “She says these river stones called to her, and this gift will bring you peace,” he said.
“It’s a lovely gift, but I doubt it will bring me peace,” Corissa said. Even she understood the questioning bark of the Wookie. “I will be worried I or someone will knock them down and I won’t be able to balance them.”
Shariva chuckled, taking the seat, sitting on the edge. Cheeri rolled her eyes, impatient with the social activity. She issued a complaint about the weight she was carrying and Shariva responded back. Emmer politely didn’t translate the exchange.
“I’m sorry, what?” Corissa asked.
Emmer faced Shariva. “May I translate,” he asked.
Shariva invited him to translate anything spoken. He thanked her.
“Cheeri was complaining about the weight she carried and was wondering if this conversation would last much longer. Shariva advised her that if she was complaining, she should continue to bear the weight for a while more,” Emmer said.
“She could set it down if she wants,” Corissa invited. Shariva responded.
“She says it is milk for G, but she was unable to find him this morning,” Shariva said. Corissa sat down. “Yes, well, neither was I. I wanted him to join us for this meeting.” Cheeri made a snide comment. Emmer translated. “She thinks he’s weird.”
Corissa had to agree. “Indeed. I wonder what you find weird about him though.” Cheeri grumbled something, and Shariva smacked the back of her daughter’s head.
Emmer managed not to laugh, but couldn’t hide the amusement on his face. Corissa was not happy and prompted Emmer to explain what just occurred.
“I don’t know if I can translate this one,” Emmer said, hoping for an out. “Well, do your best,” Corissa directed.
“Cheeri says she has never known an adult to drink milk, and struggles to discern if G is mother’s lover or new baby,” Emmer explained.
Corissa seemed a little angry. “I don’t know what to say about that,” Corissa said. “However, I do feel it necessary to inform you that this community will not tolerate child abuse. Though corporal punishment is not banned, hitting a child in the head would be considered an offense, one in which you have just committed in front of me and one of my chief security officers.”
Emmer was suddenly very tense, as if he was expecting a fight. When Shariva didn’t respond right away, he felt it necessary to jump in with an explanation: “Ms. Fite,” he said formally. “Wookies are not human. Our social rules don’t apply to them.”
“I will not tolerate child abuse in my community,” Corissa affirmed.
“And I assure you, that exchange you just witnessed was not abuse. That was a love tap. Wookies play rough. They tussle, the scratch, they bite, and if they played with humans the way they play with each other, the human would be in the infirmary or the morgue, but Wookies have thick hides and hard heads, so what you might think is harm is barely a tickle. Wookies are much more touch oriented, more physical with each other, than your most affectionate group of humans.”
Corissa didn’t back down. “I get that there may be a social and cultural difference that doesn’t translate across species line, but I don’t like what I saw, and since this community is primarily human, no one else would get the distinction you’re trying to make, and I don’t want our population emulating Wookie disciplinary techniques.”
Shariva joined the conversation. It was a lengthier response, and she prodded Emmer when she had finished, giving him a gentle tap. It was clearly not the same kind of tap she had given her daughter. “She says,” Emmer translated, carefully considering his words. “I can adapt to human social rules within a public venue. You are also free to interview my child if you believe she is being harmed. In fact, as a mother, I would expect you to do no less.” Cheeri got behind her mother, as if she were suddenly wanting protection. “But I assure you, the only thing you will find is an unhappy teenager. She is mad, because she had to leave her home world and friends. She is angry at our extended family, as no one would take her in, forcing her to go with me. She is mad at G because she doesn’t understand the nature of our relationship. Consequently, she speaks out of turn and with irreverence about things she doesn’t understand, and which I am obligated to correct.”
“And, what is your relationship with Preston?” Corissa asked. Emmer swallowed, but translated: “That is none of your business.”
Corissa leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I don’t think you’re being here is such a good idea.”
“Are you asking us to leave?” Emmer translated.
Corissa thought long and hard about that. “No. I am merely expressing my concerns that we are not compatible.”
Emmer listened, asked her to rephrase, and then nodded. “She wants clarity. Are you restricting her movement to her home?”
“No. I’m not saying that either,” Corissa said. “Clearly she has demonstrated that she is useful. She helped out with the kids yesterday. But I wanted this conversation because I don’t understand something, and I need clarity. Those kids don’t speak Wookie, and yet, to a one, when you called them out, they lined up and obeyed. Was that a Force command?”
Shariva chuckled. Frizzie imitated. She scratched behind his ears as she explained.
“No,” Emmer said. “She merely spoke to the heart.”
“I don’t understand,” Corissa said.
Listening to the explanation in Wookie, and translating into an basic equivalent took time, and apparently taxed Emmer’s ability with words. “There is a place inside each and every one of us that transcends language. Wild animals can tap into this easy. Sentient beings, well, the younger you are, the more likely you can tap into it, but adults build walls to survive socially and forget there is an external world that our eyes don’t see. Sometimes, during a crisis, it can be accessed with less effort. I addressed their heart and they knew the rightness of it, they responded to the rightness of it. That’s all.”
Corissa mused over explanation. “So, it’s not a Force skills?”
“All skills are a manifestation of the Force,” Shariva said through Emmer. “Walking through a hunting pack of Rathtar’s without fear because you know you can’t be harmed, that is not the Force per se- but that is living with-in the Force.”
Corissa put a knuckle to her lips as she tried to understand this.
Shariva continued. “And you wonder, can you learn this, but it is not something that can be learned, it is only something to be experienced. Walking through a fire without being burned, walking through a battle without even a scratch, these things are experienced by people who are in their right minds, not in the past, not in the future, but someone who is truly present in the here and now.”
Shariva made a sign to her daughter and she could put the crate on the floor.
“If you will excuse us, I promised my daughter a walk in the forest,” Shariva said through Emmer. “Please, deliver this crate to G, with my love.”
Shariva got up and headed for the door, her daughter following her. Emmer and Corissa stood up, but there was no farewell, even though Corissa came around the desk to shake hands. The door simply closed behind the Wookies. Corissa sighed.
“I guess I didn’t make a new friend today,” Corissa said. Emmer shrugged. “You didn’t make an enemy,” Emmer said. “How can you be sure?” Corissa asked.
“Well, she didn’t rip your arms off,” Emmer offered.
“Isn’t that just a rumor people use to scare folks?” Corissa said.
“No,” Emmer assured her. “You confronted her, that was brave, or stupid, but either way, you passed a test. If you engage a Wookie like a Wookie, you can expect to be treated like a Wookie, but because humans are frail, compared to Wookies, you are more likely to be injured. Just something to keep in mind.”
“That makes sense,” Corissa said. “How do you know so much about them?”
“You don’t want to know,” Emmer said.
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know,” Corissa said.
Emmer looked her square in the eye and spoke his past, unapologetically. “I use to hunt them,” he admitted. He seeme