“The minute I heard my first love story,
I started looking for you, not knowing
How blind that was.
Lovers don't finally meet somewhere.
They're in each other all along.”
Rume
Daphne was technically dead, but her heart continued for a while. It beat long enough that her ears registered the sound of boot falls against deck plating as someone approached, only the signal went nowhere. The footfalls fell in rhythm to the heartbeat that pulsed in the ear, perhaps pulsing louder due to the redirection of blood, forced around cauterized arteries and vessels. Her eyes might have seen the boots arrive, but that signal, too, was scattered and frayed and not collected. The eyes reflected the darkly dressed figure that knelt down to retrieve the lightsaber, stood up, and retreat to a nearby chair, where she sat, waiting. The eyes might have even seen G coalescing out of the ether, like a whirlwind of smoke and streaks of florescent sparks solidifying into mass and color. Some of the light reflected him and the ambient emergency lighting, and few consoles still alive with lit displays. Some of the light passed through the lens, reversing the view and laying it out on the retina, but the signal went nowhere. He knelt and closed her eyes.
He pushed her hair back, covering the mortal wound, a perfectly clean hole the size of a lightsaber blade. He touched her neck, waiting for the heart to fail; fading, fading, gone. He was sad thinking each last beat would be the last, and then when the last occurred, he wanted desperately for just one more. But it was done.
“You couldn’t protect her.” The voice broke the stillness the way someone speaking in a monastery of silence might. There was a slight echo.
G stood and turned to face her. “I could not. I see you have reclaimed your lightsaber.”
“I have,” his mother said.
“You’re not going to heal her wound? Raise her from the dead?”
“I will not,” G said.
“More like, ‘you cannot,’” Alarna said.
“There is a block in the Force,” G said.
“Most likely she doesn’t want to be healed.” Alarna chuckled.
“You’re a fool,” she said. “Your father’s genes, I suspect. Do you really think all of these wars are over resources and control? The entire galaxy is in the midst of a spiritual war. She surrendered to the enemy, and only now, realizing how bad this was going to get, she killed herself. I even wager she killed herself believing that doing so would save you.”
“Save me? From what?”
“From what’s coming. You’ve attracted its attention. It will be coming for you. The suffering around you has only begun. If you had any true decency or love for the people around you, you would emulate your sister. Throw yourself on your lightsaber,” Alarna said.
“I will not do that,” G said.
“All deaths are suicide, you’d just be dying ahead of schedule,” Alarna said.
“Command your heart to stop beating and drift away while you still can.”
“I will see this through,” G assured her
“You will plunge the galaxy deeper into the darkness than the Emperor could ever have dreamt of doing,” Alarna said, standing. “Your sister was a fool. Instead of saving you, she has handed you right over, and made the enemy that much stronger in the process.”
“Help me fight this, then,” G said.
Alarna laughed. “Your level of stupidity astounds me,” she said.
“You can’t fight this. You can only submit or die. You have already shown you have no moral fortitude to resist temptation.”
“How so?” G asked.
“You will fuck anything that moves,” Alarna pointed out.
“Fucking in and of itself isn’t a function of morality,” G said.
“That statement reveals your level of corruption,” Alarna pointed out.
“Mother, you come from a time that was more black and white, but clearly, even you indulged or I wouldn’t be here,” G pointed out.
“You misunderstand. I don’t point out your deficiency to disparage you, but to give you evidence why you must die. I’m not ignorant of my deficiencies. In fact, it’s one of the many reasons I didn’t want to have you in the first place,” Alarna said. “And it’s why I am obligated to end you. I can’t allow you to fulfill the Emperor’s vision.”
“I can’t imagine what you and grandmother suffered under his authority, but…” G began. Alarna pointed her lightsaber at him.
“Don’t do that!”
“Don’t do what?” G asked.
“Try that psychobabble crap on me,” Alarna said.
“Every time I was called to stand up and do the right thing, I failed.”
“Mother, you were a child for most of that, born into it and groomed…”
“No, I had a choice, and I chose darkness,” Alarna said.
“And killing me helps atone?” G asked.
“Of course not, son,” Alarna said. “There is no atonement. Killing you will be just one more dark act on my soul, but doing so will relieve me of all the darkness that will come because I allowed you to continue to exist.”
G smiled. “You called me ‘son.’”
“Force me, are you borderline? Are you going to be all clingy and complain how I was never there for you? What do you think’s going to happen here? Are you planning to hold a family dinner and joke about how we tried to kill each other?”
“We’re dialoguing,” G said. “That’s an improvement. Deep down, you hold love for me, or at least towards an ideal that could have been expressed through me had you chosen to see it through.”
“The next time we meet, I will kill you,” Alarna said.
“There is no death, you know that,” G said.
“I know,” Alarna said, stepping closer. “It will likely make you even stronger than you are now, but you will be off the playing field. Even if you bounced right back into the game, you would have to make concessions: loss of abilities, loss of memories, and contractual obligations to accomplish certain goals in order to unlock new abilities and or regain strength. Someone of your magnitude is only allowed in every so often. You’ve not committed to a side yet. You’re in the water, and the water is humming with anticipation, but you have not made any splashes, no waves, but you are drawing attention. Even your heart beat is tamed, not producing ripples in the Force, which alone should have been drawing the attention of every Jedi in hiding. That kind of stillness draws attention, and it grows because those who can’t abide peace will flee, push you away, or try to kill you. Hell, I’m surprised Axxila hasn’t imploded under your presence, except for maybe the Cave Fortress buffers you. Your sphere of influence, this peace you exude, that is not going to last. You will be forced to pick a side and it will be the wrong side.
“There is no right side, mother. If I choose Good, a Darkness of my equivalent will rise from the Force to bring balance,” G state simply. “Should I choose Darkness, then a Light will arise bringing balance. This is the way it has always been.”
“The Emperor charged me to find you or create you, knowing I will accomplish my mission. I always have,” Alarna said. “And you will bring darkness, because he called you.”
“Lots of his plans failed to come to fruition,” G pointed out. “Or I will bring the Light to counter his Dark. Or I will stabilize the universe through neutrality, reducing the amplitude of this storm that has been raging for tens of thousands of years. The Emperor is gone. There is a chance for different.”
Alarna shook her head. “I assure you, though he is removed from the game, his pieces are still in motion. You don’t think Bloodhunters were his only time bomb, do you? The First Order think they are going to inherent the Galaxy, but they, too, are simply pawns carrying out mission objectives laid down long before they even existed. Not only do they not know who is pulling their strings, they don’t even know they are being played. The Resistance, too, puppets, all of them. Everyone merely puppets.”
“You could help me find the source. Help me end its reign,” G offered.
“The source of this is embedded into the very fabric of existence! Don’t you read your Jedi texts?” Alarna asked.
“Yeah, well, I am a bit behind in my readings. Do you know how much there is to read? Do you know how many texts and stories and anecdotes contradict each other? There is the most recent texts, called the Core Concepts, and there are the ancient texts, and then there are texts that come before the ancient text, and a splintering of texts gathered on worlds of origin that seemed to be shamanic in nature, and then there are the stories of texts that were never formalized into texts, which seems to be pure conjecture, but at least more consistent at mirroring the indigenous shamanic writings, so, really, if you’re going to point to textual evidence for your beliefs, I am going to want greater clarity and context, because there is just no end to stories and philosophies and beliefs,” G said. “There is, however, experiential knowledge, gained through esoteric and ecstatic journeys. And there is a pathway out of the cyclic nature of violence.”
“The cessation of birth,” Alarna said.
“Ending life, ends life, not the energy that begat life and will continue to bring it forth until there is permanent stability,” G said.
“As long there is physical life, there will be competition, death, and war,” Alarna said.
“Maybe, but there can be a cease fire between us, and that’s a start in the right direction,” G said.
“Aww, you want a hug?” Alarna said.
“Actually, yes,” G said, embracing her without thinking. Alarna was taken by surprised. “I was being sarcastic.”
“I love you, mother,” G whispered. “Thank you for my life.”
Alarna activated her lightsaber at point blank range. He dissipated, the whirlwind of smoke folding around her. She sneezed. Satisfied he was gone, she deactivated the lightsaber and returned to her ship. Her ship was gone by the time he returned. He knelt down and made Daphne into a diamond. He slipped this into his vest pocket. He was startled by the airlock door opening, followed by a burst of ecstatic whistles as Red entered.
“Well, I am happy to see you, Red?” G said. “How were your travels with mother?” The Droid issued more complaints than could be properly addressed.
“Yeah, well, she can be a bit a moody, but she makes up for it in her unwavering dedications to purpose,” G said.
A questioning whistle filled the air.
“I don’t think I was being sarcastic,” G mused, as he headed for the flight deck. Red followed.
“I know my mother’s screwed up. We’re all a little screwed up. But I still love her.”
Red whistled more.
“Well, she is attractive but that isn’t the love I was referring to,” G said, making the calculations for hyperspace.
Red whistled several more questions.
“You are really talkative today, my friend. Why don’t you plug in to the ship’s computer and make friends and learn all you can about it and where it’s been and where it was going,” G said.
G finished the calculations and took the ship into hyperspace, headed for Axxila. Only then did he attend to the human remains under the pilot’s chair, making a new diamond. He tossed it up on the console, not intending to carry it, as it wasn’t his to do so. He paused, kneeling down to Red and hugged him. “I am happy to see you. Should I have to depart, you’re headed towards Axxila. I will have them expecting to receive you in the event that I am busy.”
He fished the diamond out of his vest pocket. He stared at its intricate patterns. The Droid whistled, curtly.
“No, this wasn’t an enemy,” G said. The Droid sounded sad.
“Yes, it was someone we knew,” G said.
“And loved very much. Daphne has crossed over.”
The Droid sounded extra sad, commiserating. G sat down next to it.
“It is a part of life, my friend,” G said, allowing the Droid to speak.
“Some people would say it is a belief, but I have personal knowledge that we continue on after.” G laughed at the Droid’s query. “I am sure Droids go somewhere, too. I dare say, if there are no Droids over there, I won’t be staying. Where will I go? Umm, well, where ever you go. But I am thinking that will be a long way off for you. So don’t worry too much. Well, I don’t know. I guess we just live in the moment as much we can and focus on what we have in front of us.”
The Droid whimpered.
“Yeah,” G said, wiping his eyes. “I am sad, too.” He laid his against the Droid and allowed himself to grieve.
“G?”
G closed his eyes and found himself with Mace Windu. “Are you okay?” Windu asked.
“I am surprised by the severity of my emotional response to loss,” G said.
Windu put an arm around him and they walked by a lake, a fountain spraying up in the center of it. Surrounding trees were home to small critters and birds. The sky was a perfect, endless blue that felt more like an imagined memory of blue than an actual sky color.
“Can I see her?” G asked. “She is not here,” Windu said.
“But she is a Jedi. Don’t all Jedi come here?” G asked.
“I don’t know how to respond to your questions, but I can say, I am here with you, you are one with the Force,” Windu said.
“I know you mean that to be comforting, but right now, it seems like a meaningless platitude. She is one person, and yet I grieve as strongly for her as I did for my home of origin,” G said. “They’re not comparable. I believe one should not grieve more for one over another, but this feels significant. I was sad when the First Order took out five planets simultaneously, but I was not devastated, not impacted like this one death is affecting me. But the thing that bothers me the most is that I have all of this knowledge that there is more and that we continue on in the Force, and yet, I am sad, I am angry, and I am hurting.”
“I would worry about you if you didn’t feel this,” Windu said.
“You’re not going to tell me I need to purge myself of attachment?” G asked.
Windu chuckled. “I would not dream of belaboring a point you know so well,” he said. He retrieved several pebbles and skipped one across the lake. “She was a friend, a lover, family, and I know that you were drawn together by circumstances and the Force. Your response is complicated, but appropriate. You had unresolved issues and you are not ready to let go.”
“How can I let go? I can’t let go,” G said. “I must find her.”
“Then your mother is right. Daphne will be your downfall,” Windu said.
Corissa was met by Emmer as she was heading towards the cafeteria. “Mam, we’ve made arrangements to evacuate you,” Emmer said.
“I won’t be leaving,” Corissa said.
“Mam, I am under strict orders from Master Waycaster to see that you’re safe,” emmer said.
Corissa pulled to a halt. “He is here?”
“Who?”
“Preston,” Corissa said. “Is he here?”
“No, mam,” Emmer said.
“Everyone knows I am in charge here. I will not run,” Corissa said.
“You know they’re going to come here. They will kill everyone here to own this base. It’s prime real-estate,” Emmer said.
“And they will have the resources to finish what we started.”
“I will not run. Even if I did, they would just pursue,” Corissa said.
Shariva, Jordeen, and Isho approached, trying to look like they weren’t listening, but clearly needing to be in ear shot to take orders.
“What good will being a martyr do?” Emmer said.
“It will give folks time to get away,” Corissa said, motioning the others to approach. “Jordeen, I want you and your Sisters to take the orphans, follow the river until you come to the Frenzie River clan. From there, divide the kids up, and disperse into the other clans. If any of the families want to join, take them as well.”
“You want them to walk?” Isho asked.
“They First Order will be tracing heat signatures from departing ships, but small groups of people might go unnoticed amongst the wild life,” Emmer said. “Mam, it might be better to split them into three group, two following the rivers, and the third going out over the plain.”
Shariva made a noise.
“She is volunteering to lead one of the groups, and the forested plain would be in her element,” Emmer said.
“Very well. Make sure she has a map to some of our stashes,” Corissa said.
“Emmer, you lead the third group. The clans will be expecting you. Go, quickly, and may the Force be with you.”
As they departed, Commander Rosh approached.
“The evacuation of key personnel and families has begun and we will continue until we are out of ships or we are stopped by force,” Rosh said.
The ambient light of day suddenly diminished. Looking up into the sky revealed a different frequency of light than they were used to seeing on Dathomir. The sun seemed like it was shining through a thin sheet of ice.
“Force me,” Corissa said. “Is that what I think it is?”
“If it is, no one is leaving this planet,” Rosh said.
“Order all ships that didn’t make it out of the atmosphere to return to base,” Corissa said.
“I could have them scatter across Dathomir,” Rosh said.
“And what? And give the First Order a reason or pretense to send brigades of Troopers into villages and cities and burn them down? Bring everyone back, Rosh. If we’re going to die, we’re going to die here,” Corissa said. “Also, I want your men to disarm. All weapons are to be stowed in the armory.”
“Mam? We’re not going to fight?” Rosh asked.
“Would we win? Do the math, Rosh. We’re not going to get reinforcements, right? Not as long as that shield is up. And how many Star Destroyers did you say were up there? Seven? Eight? Yeah, I don’t want to see one weapon when they come knocking. Our new mantra is we are a peaceful settlement, dedicated to the arts of healing and wellbeing,” Corissa said.
“I would rather go out fighting,” Rosh said.
“And you will be. You will die spreading the message of peace that Master Waycaster instilled in us,” Corissa said. “Go, before one of our ships decide to land somewhere other than here.”
Rosh hurried off, using his radio to issue orders.
“What would you like me to do?” Isho asked.
“Go to Preston’s cave. Tell her we need Preston,” Corissa said.
FindIt emerged from sleep mode tentatively. The threat seemed to be gone, but so did Ten. There was no radio telemetry. Pings failed to return. The remotes that Ten was using to help search for items were powered down. FindIt slipped into an older program, one he hadn’t used in a long while. Survival mode. The first order of business was determining if it could secure a source of power. Without that, it would be forced to return to sleep mode, surfacing periodically to see if there were any changes to the environment, any new comers, but if no one came, it was a dead end game. It searched through its recent exploration for artifacts andidentified the solar panel from a Tie fighter. Finding a piece of Tie Fighter wasn’t difficult. Finding a solar panel that still functioned, well, that was difficult. It went and retrieved the item. It was scratched, and multiple impact, but it was likely still functioning. FindIt removed the remaining section of the strut, freeing access on of the enter coupling, removed the coupling and inserted its own. There was power. And there was enough solar energy available that a day in sleep mode would fully recharge its pack.
Once it had secured power, it activated the remotes and continue probing the debris field for treasure. One of the probes was directed to enter a section of the hull, and once it entered the hole of twisted metal, it found itself in corridor that was mostly intact. Some panels had been blown off. There were human remains. The mummified human was stuck on a jagged piece of metal, otherwise he might have been blown out through the hole. Unless, the ship had already depressurized before the hole had been made. Whatever had happened, it had happened a long time ago. Findit took a picture of medals and insignia for identification purposes. Sometimes living family members would pay for information, sometimes they would pay to retrieve the body for final rituals.
By the time the remote had entered the First room, FindIt had joined the remote. It secured the solar panel to the section of ship, found several cable links of power lines with couplings, disconnected them from the exposed wall, and connected one into the solar panel and secured the other end inside. Being inside while charging would decrease the chance of being hit by debris while in sleep mode. He ordered the other remotes to gather outside the section of hull he would call home. He then ordered the chest to join him.
FindIt took the man’s weapon, attaching it to a pull cable. Standard issue blaster, nothing special, no insignia. The weapon wasn’t a souvenir piece, just something that could be refurbished and sold. There was always a market for weapons. The man seemed to have nothing else of value. FindIt proceeded down the corridor. The first door led to an armory. He nearly short circuited with excitement. It called the remote to catalogue the items, while it continued down the section. The next door was shut. Two arms extended from its body, and tools emerged, powering up. In effect, they were mini lightsabers, tools G used when sculpting rocks. He brought them forward, pushing them through the door like a knife through flesh, rotated its body effectively drawing a circle, the circumference of which was longer than its body, max extension of its arms. The cabin had maintained pressured, but it quickly leaked out through the half circular gaps, nearly pushing FindIt away. The circle complete, FindIt gave it a shove and the cutout floated away. FindIt withdrew the tools back into itself, and entered the room. Another human remains, only this one hadn’t been mummified. It had bloated under the gasses of its own bacteria, and then exploded, and the mess was mostly contained to the bed cavity. It had long since dried and there was no way to know how the man might have died. If he didn’t killed himself, he would have just gone to sleep when the oxygen was used up. Or when the cold took him, but since what was left of the body didn’t appear to be wrapped in an emergency blanket, that was a less likely explanation.
FindIt withdrew the foot locker from under the bed cavity. Without power, the locks wouldn’t open, and even with power, it would require a code. It didn’t stop the cutting tool from opening it, and FindIt was careful not to plunge it straight through, for fear of damaging contents. Inside the locker, at the top of an expertly packed box, were several Jedi datacron; they were small, palm size polyhedrons, and he knew them due to personal history. There were also several Sith holocrons, palm size pyramids. FindIt didn’t know the names of the tech, but he knew they were valuable. Ten would be happy.
FindIt opened the box that was on the top, finding an assortment of crystals. Opening the box stirred items, and they started to drift out, so FindIt closed the box and then the locker. There was the hint of a lightsaber hilt as the locker was closed. It put a seal on it to keep the locker shut. FindIt then turned to the door. The hole would not be large enough for the locker. He proceeded to cut the entire door out. It fell away, tumbling, hit the fall war, bounced, and returned. FindIt took the door out of the ship section and released it.
A ship emerged from hyperspace. FindIt hesitated, considering powering down. It did not want to lose its treasure to thieves. It considered defending it, but powering down was the best option. Just as it was about to go down, it detected a wireless network, and one of its pings returned.
“You there?” Ten asked.
FindIt released a string full of data, “You left me. Are you okay? I was alone. What happened to the other ship? I could have helped. Where did you go? I found more stuff.”
“Whoa, slow down there, little one,” Ten said, uploading FindIt’s files. “I am okay. G is with me.”
“G? How is that possible?” FindIt said. “You have been gone insufficient time to go somewhere and return with G.”
“Yes!” Ten said.
“G, come look at this.”
G came over to her work station. “Nice,” G said.
“Am I lucky or what?” Ten said.
“Several hours ago, you weren’t feeling so lucky,” G said. “Is this a lesson?” Ten asked.
“If you allow your emotions to be regulated by external events, you will remain in constant flux, and subject to the whimsical nature of physical plane,” G said. “You have found treasure. The galaxy is full of treasure, all around you, all the time. This isn’t luck.”
Ten pouted. “Are you saying I shouldn’t be happy?”
“No, that’s not what I am saying,” G said.
“Happy sad are on a continuum and you will naturally move back and forth through this spectrum, without effort, influenced by the external happenings of life, and influenced by your inner filters and preferences. Or, you can go deeper, and remain in a constant state of joy, uninfluenced by what goes on here. Joy is on a whole other continuum, and few people touch it. You’ve touched joy. You know what you’re feeling isn’t that. This is nice, but don’t chase it.”
“But that’s what scavengers do, they chase treasures and the emotional highs that come with it,” Ten said.
“When you realize that everything your physical eyes see is treasure, with the same value, this debris field will have a beauty all its own,” G said.
“And you will have to make a choice, see everything as sacred, or see it as mundane.”
“How should I see it?” Ten asked.
“No one can tell you how to see, Ten,” G said.
“Allow me to buy those items from you. Bring them to Axxila. I have to go, but I am still with you.” G faded.
Yeno was standing outside looking up into the sky. He was born elsewhere, but he had been on Dathomir so long that he had forgotten that the sky could look like this. It reminded him of his home world. He was aware of the shuttle landing next to him, but continued to look up, sensing the battle that lasted less than a few minutes. It was hardly worthy of being a called a battle.
Doya emerged from her craft. “Come with me,” Doya said.
“You shouldn’t have come here. They will be monitoring all traffic,” Yeno said. “My home will now be marked as a point of interest.”
“We need you. Come with me,” Doya said. “We’re discussing how to take out that shield.”
Yeno turned to her. “You take out that shield and almost everything on the surface will be dead within a week.”
“You’re saying that’s a permanent feature?” Doya asked.
“Yes, Senator,” Yeno said, looking back into the sky.
“We are now at the mercy of the gatekeepers.”
“None the less, I insist that you come with me,” Doya said.
“To what ends?”
“I don’t know. But you’re an asset, and we want to take you into hiding,” Doya said. “You understand, don’t you? You’ve been hiding most of your life and we allowed it. It’s time to pay back your host.”
Yeno sighed. Her words stung, but it wasn’t something new. He had told himself he should have died with the others in the great purge so many times that it was almost a mantra. Even the occasional, soothing voice of Yoda, urging patience and compassion, failed to diminish his own derogatory inner tapes.
“I am old, Doya,” Yeno said. “I am a fool stuck in an era long since gone. Few value what I hold, and the kids these days, they don’t have the patience or discipline to go deep.
Everything is instant gratification. You’re lucky to get a student who will sit with a lesson thirty minutes, much less years, and in thirty minutes they’re lamenting they can’t learn it, complaining. The only upside is that even the dark side takes more time and energy than most people are willing to commit. No, Doya. I am through. When they come for me, and they will come for me, like moths drawn to a candle, I will be here, and I will embrace the fate I hid from all these years.”
Doya drew closer and got in front of him. “Force me, you are a fool, and maybe G was right, the Jedi have been self-serving bastards for too long, but this isn’t about you. It’s about us. It’s about mother Dathomir. You, Sir, have benefited from her nurturing, suckled from her breast, and you will stand up with us and serve the Great Mother. Her children need you.”
Yeno quietly reflected over her words, meeting her eyes.
“G called us self-serving bastards?”
“I was paraphrasing,” Doya said.
“If he were here, we might have a chance to do what needs to be done,” Yeno said.
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