“Set your life on fire. Seek those who fan your flames.”
Rumi
It was the ship that was landing as they approached the Path that triggered Corissa’s memory. For a moment, she was back in time; he moment hardly seemed big enough to contain the full unfolding, but it was all there, and not as if reliving it, but instead immersed in it, living it for the first time. The real world seemed to slow to a pause, even the whirlwind of dust and dirt stirred by the descending ship moved impossibly slow.
One by one, Corissa’s parents had sold her siblings. She was the last to be sold. The captain that bought her seemed ragged, aged by hardships and poor nutrition. He was missing teeth and his hair was spotty. He could stand for a shower. He looked over the legal guardianship papers, then handed the payment over in the form of precious metals. He then took the papers and Corissa by the arm and led her into the ship, the door closing behind them. The last image Corissa got of her parents were of them walking away with their treasure, not even looking back.
The first thing the captain did was put binders on her wrists and feet and chained her to the middle of the cargo hold floor. Secured in a rack to either side of her were rows of carbonite containers, with what appeared to be children in various poses of fear, hands out trying to escape their fate, or pleading for compassion, frozen solid.
“Please, don’t hurt me,” Corissa begged.
The Captain’s eyes seemed to acknowledge her in some way. “Miss, it is not my intention to hurt you, but I am going to put you in harm’s way. There is nothing I can do about that,” he said. His voice didn’t seem to fit his face.
She said nothing. What could she say that would deter an adult intent on criminal mischief? Still, he seemed apologetic in manner. She asked herself to wake up. Her mind desperately sought understanding, wanting to know how her parents could sell her, her siblings, especially to such an obvious villain.
“If you live through this, I will make it up to you the best I can,” he offered.
Then he departed. The lights in the cargo hold dimmed, making the lights on the carbonite controls the brightest lights in the hold. She was unable to see the flight deck. The ship lurched in an unnatural way as it lifted, suggesting mechanical issues. She knew it to be rising, based on the engines spooling up and the increase in vibrations through the deck. It lurched again and she was knocked off her feet. Had she not been chained, she might have been flung across the cargo hold. She lay there, feeling her weight increase. And then, suddenly, there was stillness, and she was weightless. She came up off the floor. She vomited and though most of the mass went away from her, some of it stayed near her face and she struggled to get it out of her throat and away from her. The artificial gravity kicked in and she and her vomit dropped to the floor.
The captain returned and sighed.
“Oh, damn it. Have you never been into space before?” he grumbled. It took him a moment to find the items necessary to clean up the floor. The wet vac he retrieved was used on the floor, on her face, and her clothes. He then got a cloth and sat down on the floor next to her. She tried to scoot back, but he pulled her towards him with the chain. Only fear and resignation kept her from fighting further. The cloth twas wet, warm, and smelled like fruit. He gently wiped her face, an incongruent gentleness compared to his looks and demeanor. He took her chin in his hand and turned her face, making sure she was reasonably presentable. She stared back fiercely, as if she might kill him if she had the chance. He stared back, unreadable.
The sound of metal grabbing metal echoed through the cargo hold.
“Our guests have arrived,” he said, standing up. He pushed a button on his wrist band, activating a red light just under the sleeve. He went to the hatch and opened it. Four nonhuman creatures were just beyond the hatch. The captain invited them in. “Just in time. Give me a moment to finish wrapping this one up for Jungin…”
“Wrap it up? What is this, a trick?” the creature asked. Its blend of humanoid and insectoid characteristics made it frightening to behold, making it only experience or chains to prevent fleeing from its sight.
“What are you talking about, Jitters?” the captain asked.
“We agreed to fifty units, and you only have that one pathetic specimen?” Jitters demanded
“They are all here, Jitters,” the captain said, pointing to the carbonite. “Putting them in carbonite wasn’t part of the arrangement,” Jitters said.
“Pfft, well, it wasn’t in the exclusionary criteria of the contract, either!” the captain said. “I’m not a baby sitter. Do you know how much work it is corralling fifty younglings? You got to feed ‘em, clean ‘em, entertain ‘em, and if they’re clever little bastards, they get into things and break things, and try to escape, and fight each other, and fight me, and bite. I’m just one man and I haven’t had my jabs.”
“Jabs?” Jitters asked.
“Vaccinations,” the captain explained. “You know how dirty these little rug womp-rats are? There’s no telling what diseases they might be carrying.”
“Well, I’m not paying you full price for frozen dinners,” Jitters said.
“Then you and I are going to have a problem,” the captain said. “See these green lights. It means they’re perfectly preserved specimens, just as agreed upon.”
“The green light just means they survived the freezing process. It doesn’t mean they will thaw and be normal. Our buyers don’t do damaged goods. And what’s up with that one? Why haven’t you properly clothed her for services?” Jitters demanded.
“I just collect the merchandise. I don’t doll them up for your pleasure,” the captain said. Jitters pointed at the captain. “I don’t like you.”
“Fine. Don’t buy from me. I’m sure I can find another buyer,” the captain said. “Jungin isn’t the only Hutt dealing in children.”
Jitters drew a weapon. “We will take all these units at a third of our agreed price.”
“A third?!” the captain protested. “I won’t even recoup my initial expenses. These kids come with legal guardianship papers. How often do you buy them with legal swapping rights?”
“If you find this situation unfair, perhaps you could go to the law and tell them how unjustly you are being treated,” Jitters clucked menacingly. He motioned to his crew. “Collect the girl first, and then push all of these ice-pops over.”
One of the creatures went to collect Corissa. She tried to fight, but her wrists and ankles were bound, and it only took a tug of the chain to be knocked off her feet. She was picked up by her clothes and carried like luggage. As she passed the captain, the light on his bracelet turned from red to green.
What happened next was hard to follow. There was the sound of blaster fire. She was dropped to the floor and the creature carrying her fell on top of her. A moment later, a dozen kids were being corralled into their cargo hold coming from the other ship, followed by a woman and two men. The two men immediately went to removing the corpses and putting them on the other ship. When they were done, they waved farewell, shut the door. The telltale signs of the ship detaching rang through the hold.
The captain fell on one of the kids, hugging him up. The woman touched his shoulder “Time enough for a reunion later,” she said.
“Lionel is going to take the ship to the scuttle point, and strip it clean, but we need to get out of this sector.”
The captain agreed, leaving the child to the woman. He proceeded to the flight deck as the woman in a space suit began to undress. A moment later they were in hyperspace. The captain returned to find the woman in simple clothing, holding the favored child. He kissed the woman. Corissa was grossed out by the nicer woman kissing the creepy old man. He then hugged his kid and appraised all the new little ones, most of whom were stunned and not sure what to make of things. When he finished hugging and loving on his family, he turned his son over to his wife and came over to Corissa. Her back was against a frozen carbonite kid. He reached downed and undid her binders.
“What now?” Corissa asked
“I said if you lived through this, I would do right by you,” the captain promised.
“You’ll take me back to my parents?” she asked.
“We’re not taking her back to her parents,” the woman argued. “I promised I’d do right by her,” he explained.
“And you will, but not by taking her back to them. They sold her as a sex slave and she is what, 7?”
“I’m 8,” Corissa said.
“We’re not taking her back to them,” the woman said, her tone said that was final.
“We could take her back and report them to the authorities. She is bound to have some family that are decent,” he said.
“And tell the authorities what exactly? That planet kills child traffickers,” she said. “And technically, we have a boat full of trafficked merchandise. We take these kids to the orphanage like we agreed and the let the Sisters reunite families where they can, but I will not let you give her back to those cretins when we have a legal document saying she belongs to us.”
The captain turned to Corissa. “My wife has a point. Your parents aren’t nice folks. If you stay with my family, I will teach you a trade and you will always have employment. It’s that, or you go to the orphanage with the rest of them. I think I owe you more than that.”
“What makes you more trust worthy than the bug people?” Corissa asked. “You put these kids in carbonite.”
The captain reached up and turned off one of the carbonite units. When the carbonite had finished dissipating, what was left was a mannequin of a child, nothing more than a clothing prop that fell to the floor. It was true for all fifty. The captain pulled off his spotty wig to reveal a full set of hair and wiped his teeth.
“I’m not as bad as I made myself appear, but at any time you don’t feel safe with my family, we will help you find some place you do feel safe,” he assured her.
Corissa detoured to the ship without explanation and G followed. She arrived as the pilot descended the ramp. He was a tall, rugged looking man, in apparent good health and cheerful disposition. He reached out his hand to greet Corissa.
“You can’t park this here!” Corissa said, her hands on her hip. Had she been wearing her weapon, her hand would have naturally rested on it. As it was, her thumb moved as if removing the strap that would have secured the blaster in its holster. A habit that hadn’t gone away.
“The Tower directed me here because the parking lot up there was full,” the man said. “We have a tower?” G asked.
Corissa gave him an eye. “You didn’t notice the engineers installing a tower?” she asked.
“My mind has been elsewhere. But a tower is cool,” G assured her.
She turned back to the man.
“Look, I’m just dropping off these passengers from Axxila. A little extra money between runs, you know,” the pilot said. The passengers were indeed debarking: children, adults, and elders carrying possession if they had them.
Corissa got on her radio. “Emmer, get a screening and welcoming party to the front gate.
Also, send mobile assists down. There are some folks that aren’t going to make the walk up.” She turned back to the pilot. “Where did you get the ship?”
“My master bought it, maybe twenty years ago,” the pilot said, patting it as if it were a pet. “It’s a good ship. It was well maintained. I’ve been crew on it since my master bought it, but I’ve only been the captain for the last ten years, since the last captain got himself killed. Why do you ask?”
“I’m the one that maintained it before you bought it,” Corissa said.
“Awww. What a coincidence,” he said.
“I don’t believe in coincidences. What’s your name?”
“Turry. Turry Fite,” he said, again offering his hand.
Corissa shivered, tears started down her face as she reached out and took his hand. “Turry?”
“You okay?” Turry asked. “I’m Corissa.”
“Nice to meet you, Corissa,” he said. “Corissa Fite,” Corissa said.
“What a coincidence,” Turry said, trying to extricate his hand politely.
“I’m your sister,” Corissa spelled it out for him, a little peeved he wasn’t remembering. “I don’t have any siblings, Mam,” Turry said.
“Come with me to the infirmary. A DNA screening would prove it,” Corissa said, almost pleading.
“Corissa, I can assure you, we aren’t related. My parents died and my foster parents sold me into service,” Turry explained. “Besides, hypothetically speaking, what are the odds that a random job would land me at your doorstep?”
“Pretty good, actually,” G answered, inviting himself into the conversation. “We flow in constellations and are born into families that tend to hold karmic obligations. If there is unfinished business here, your paths are likely to cross again. So, hypothetically, it wouldn’t hurt to tarry awhile and explore this situation.”
Turry smiled at G. pointing a finger at him, skeptically, clearly communicating that he had pegged G for one of those universal ‘truther’ guys. “I like you, but I don’t want anything to do with your cult. Your son, here, seems quite knowledgeable about stuff.”
“He’s not my son,” Corissa said.
“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I should have seen it. You’ve trained your slave well,” Turry said. “He’s not a slave, either,” Corissa said.
“Why would you assume I own slaves?”
“I’ve seen his kind of devotion. Slave, pet, however you prefer. His loyalty and love is quite evident. Any Master that achieves that kind of devotion in her subjects is worthy of admiration,” Turry said.
“I don’t own slave or subjects,” Corissa insisted.
“We are all slaves,” Turry argued.
“That seems true,” G said, contemplating the metaphor.
“No it’s not,” Corissa argued. She nearly slapped him.
“Well, it’s nice meeting you folks. If you’ll excuse me, I am supposed to pick up a shipment other side of the world and be on my way,” Turry said. “Take care.”
“Wait. How do I get in touch with you?” Corissa asked. “You don’t,” he said.
“I want to finish this conversation.”
“It is finished. My loyalty belong to Jungin. That is my family and quite frankly, I don’t need more,” Turry said, heading up the ramp.
Corissa remained until the ship departed. She turned to ask G something but was blocked when a child ran up and hugged him.
“Em?” G said, picking up the child. “You remember me?” she asked.
“Of course. What are you doing here?”
Her mother, Phelan Hildago, was with her, she bowed. “We’ve come to serve.”
“I want to learn the ways of the Force and we hear you teach here,” Em said.
“Since the healing, we’ve both changed. We need guidance,” Phelan said.
“Of course. Find my assistant Jordeen, she’ll get you set up. And you’re in time, since the next psychic kindergarten is starting soon,” G said.
“Kindergarten?” Em asked.
“Regardless of skill level or age, everyone starts with that class,” G assured her.
“We will of course follow your curricula. And I am prepared to work for our room and board, but I brought a donation if you require it,” Phelan said.
“Everyone here serves, but when it comes to donations and service Corissa here can guide you better than I,” G said, introducing them. “We’re about to walk up. Do you think you can make it?”
Em’s eyes followed the winding path up to the front gate. It looked incredibly far, but after being healed she had not yet balked at any physical challenge given her. Nearby a car had landed to escort passengers that wouldn’t make the climb. Emmer approached, almost apologetically.
“Sorry to bother you, Miss Corissa, but they need you at the committee meeting,” Emmer said. “You can pilot the car and I’ll help organize things here.”
“Excuse me,” Corissa said, frowning. “G, I want you to eat soon.”
“I will. I promise,” G assured her.
Corissa proceeded to the car, and once everyone was seated, she pushed the car airborne and headed up.
Corissa took her seat at the head of the table, not hiding her frustration that the committee hadn’t been able to resolve some of the issues without her. Isho shot her an apologetic look. In the unspoken exchange, she knew Corissa wasn’t mad at her, but still she wanted to serve better. Alberta, a mystic nun from an order that trained Jordeen, iterated a statement issued earlier. It was only now, with the memories awaken by Turry that she realized Alberta belong to the sister where the other children had been dropped off, so long ago, so far away… She had to force herself back to the present.
“We simply can’t take any more troubled kids until we get some professionals in here to work with the ones we got,” Alberta said. “We’ve already had to establish several locked units with around the clock supervision due to some of the kids engaging in self-harming behaviors, in addition to sexually acting out.”
“We’re locking kids up?” Corissa asked.
“It was necessary,” Jut said. “We separated them by age and gender and the severity of their acting out.”
“And even that hasn’t stopped them from trying to have sex. They don’t even care about gender,” Alberta said. “If it’s breathing, they’re going to try and engage it. And though teen on teen is one thing, some of them are trying to force the younger ones, and since technically they were all victims of sex crimes, we are simply making a blanket statement that none of them are emotionally mature enough to be having sex.”
“They’re just mimicking what was perpetrated on them,” Jordeen said.
“Agreed, but we got to stop the chain of abuse somewhere,” Alberta said. “But add that to the ones attempting suicide and the others that are showing symptoms of severe PTSD, well, let’s just say we’ve reached our capacity to deal with trauma.”
“So, have we had any responses to our queries for more medical staff?” Corissa asked. “No. We’re simply not offering enough compensation to get people to relocate to this planet, much less asking them to live remotely from the most populated cities,” Alberta said.
“Then offer more,” Corissa said. “And, reach out beyond the standard medical paradigm.
All cultures have had to deal with trauma, so reach out to folks locally and get some teams in here. Hell, buy some psych Droids. Surely they’re as good as an actual psychiatrist. Have we considered hiring telepaths?”
“They’ve already had their minds messed with and you want to bring in telepaths to shift them some more?” Commander Rosh asked.
“Not to shift them, to help them. Surely a telepath can help resolved mental and emotional conflict faster than a non-telepath,” Corissa said. “You employed paths to interrogate people, didn’t you? Can’t you use them to help people?”
“I’ve only seen paths break people, not help them,” Rosh said. “Then don’t hire those guys. Find some good guys,” Corissa said.
“There aren’t any good guys!” Rosh said.
“That can’t be true,” Jordeen said. “You can’t convince me that the only Force sensitive people left in the galaxy are Sith, or soon to be Sith recruits.”
“Finding good telepaths, or bad ones for that matter, is as hard as finding Jedi,” Rosh said. “The very few that weren’t killed in the Great Purge went into hiding. And with the Sith snatching any kids that show even an inkling of Force sensitivity, it’s been even harder to encourage people to identify themselves. And Skywalker’s failed attempt to re-establish the Jedi order didn’t make it any easier. The general public is afraid of Force sensitive, and the Force sensitive are afraid of everything, some intentionally hiding, and some guided by unconscious motives to survive. You have more candid Force Sensitive people in this academy than probably any other planet in the Galaxy, and quite frankly, that makes this place a target. It won’t be long before the First Order comes knocking.”
“We’ve been very clear that we’re are politically neutral,” Jordeen said. “We’re not training warriors. We’re training healers.”
“Yeah. Make love not war. I get it. And if Master Waycaster thinks that makes him less of a target, then he will get us all killed,” Rosh said. “The Jedi will come. The Sith will come. And you will either take a side, or be killed. That’s how it works.”
“Then, I guess it’s good that we have you here to form defense strategies,” Corissa said. Rosh’s bow was subtle.
“I, and those of the crew that remained here to start new lives, have all pledged our allegiance to Waycaster and this Academy. We will serve, Corissa. We will follow your lead. But if the Jedi and Sith decide to make this their next battle ground, we’re ill prepared. Instead of spending our shrinking funds on shrinks and medical staff, it would be better to employ more ships, entrench some shielding and defense batteries, and build up a garrison of well-trained soldiers and combat pilots.”
“As if that won’t paint a target on us?” Alberta asked.
“A target that can strike back is less of a target than a school of metaphysical academics, doctors, and astronomers,” Rosh said. “You want these kids to overcome PTSD? Teach them to fight. And protect them with some real warriors in the meantime.”
“Thank you, Rosh,” Corissa said. “Continue to develop our defensive plans with what we have. I will discuss your concerns with G and see if he can bring anything to the table that might ease your concerns.”
Rosh nodded, but it wasn’t lost on anyone that he was frustrated. Everyone was frustrated, as all of their needs felt as if they should be the highest priority. In fact, they spent a few extra minutes discussing all the points that had been made in Corissa’s absence before they adjourned the meeting. Even after folks were free to leave, still some tarried to get a shot at Corissa’s ear, and others stayed just to ensure that those with competing agendas didn’t get an extra chance to sway Corissa in their favor. The committee voted on may things, but Corissa was always the tie breaker, or the final resolution in any conflict.
“Okay, that’s it,” Isho said, standing up. “Corissa and I have another meeting and we can’t be late. Thank you for your time.”
Isho took Corissa by the arm and led her away from the group. Jordeen slipped away with them.