Chapter 9 the haunting
Captain Gregg emerged from the flight deck to find his guests sitting quietly. Preston was pushing through photos of properties for sale on an electronic clip board that was tied into the Captain’s navigation system. Ten was sitting in Corissa’s lap, hugging her, eyes turned into Corissa’s shoulders, as if she had been crying. Lestelle was deep in thought and Jordeen had just relaxed from another fit of laughter. Once they had made the jump to hyperspace, Jordeen’s condition eased up as the total ship vibrations subsided. She pulled her legs up into the chair to sit in the lotus position, her eyes closing as she sought meditative relief.
“Well, at least one of you seems happy,” Gregg said. He retracted a jump seat and joined them.
“You’ll have excuse the mess as it’s unusual for me to take on passengers.”
No one could discern what mess he was referring to. The only potentially out of place items were a partially eaten meal and a cold cup of coffee sitting on the table. The rest of the ship was tidy enough to be considered military orderly. Ten opened her eyes to the group.
“So, what’s your name, little miss?” Gregg asked.
Ten narrowed her eyes, knowing she was likely the only one to be considered ‘little miss,’ and she did not like it.
“Ten,” she answered.
“And how old are you?” Gregg asked.
“Nine,” she answered.
“Interesting,” Gregg said.
“Why do they call you Ten?”
“I will be ten,” Ten answered.
“Probably. You will be twelve, too, but they’re not calling you thirteen,” Gregg said.
“My full name is Tenicos, but I prefer Ten,” Ten said.
“Don’t think I ever met a Tenicos in all my travels, but people have such weird names these days,” Gregg said.
“You and your mother travel often?”
“Does she look like my mother?” Ten asked.
“She’s not your mother?” Lestelle asked, coming out of her thoughts.
“It’s a long story,” Corissa stated.
“Which ends with kidnapping?” Lestelle asked.
“Captain, you need to turn us back around.”
“No, I can’t go back!” Ten said, almost coming out of the chair. Corissa hugged her tight, “Be calm,” she whispered.
“But you can’t let them take me back,” Ten whimpered.
“We’re not going back,” Preston said.
“Sir, I know you wanted off planet discreetly, but I will not support trafficking of children. It’s bad enough you brought a slave on board,” Gregg said, standing up.
“I will be turning the ship around and I will be contacting the authorities.”
Gregg moved as if to head towards the flight deck. Corissa stood up, forcing Ten to her feet. She pulled her to the side and put a hand on her blaster. Preston looked up from his review, drew his legs up in the lotus position, almost mirroring Jordeen, sat the clipboard in his lap, and then folded his hands together. Gregg paused.
“Captain Gregg must be allowed to do what he thinks is right,” Preston said.
“What?” Ten demanded.
“I thought you were on my side?!”
Gregg started forward but Corissa pulled the blaster out of her holster and the stale mate was re-engaged.
“I will not allow him to turn us around,” Corissa said.
“And you’re right to stand your ground,” Preston assured her.
“You can’t support both positions,” Lestelle said.
“You have to pick a side.”
“Both sides are correct, from their limited perspective and limited knowledge,” Preston stated.
“I am sure that Captain Gregg would not take Ten back if he knew she would be dead within 24 hours of doing so.”
“Explain,” Gregg said.
The clipboard beeped, alerting Preston that an item fitting his search criteria had been found. He glanced at it, smiled, closed his eyes to consider further. The property was located in the Kalinga territories on Dathomir, and when he remembered his first conversation with Nolasco and how he had threatened to go there, he saw this coincidence as reinforcement that this was indeed the place he was looking for. Of course, there were other encouraging points. The structures he was interested in acquiring were on three separate peaks of a mountain range; and the three most prominent, at that. The most significant feature of the three mountain tops was that the tops had been razed, sheered clean as if cut by a giant lightsaber. The material had probably gone into the construction of the two damns connecting the smallest, outside peak to the mountain chain, thereby cradling a triangular lake between them. The property was the most isolated structures on the planet, removed from large cities, and land locked in the middle of the continent, no doubt chosen for altitude for optimum star gazing. He handed the clipboard to Lestelle.
“This is the place,” Preston said, extremely pleased, like a child finding a present.
“An abandoned academy?” Lestelle asked.
“It’s perfect. It’s in my price range. I like mountains. The highest peak is an observatory, and there is a lake, and the hydroelectric capacity will meet all our energy needs,” Preston pushed.
“This place is huge! Wouldn’t you prefer a small cottage near the ocean on Hapes?” Lestelle asked.
“Oh, well that does sound nice,” Preston said, considering it. He pursed his lips as if having trouble deciding, but then committed.
“And I do want to go there. But the Force is pulling me here. There is something bigger than us going on.”
“Preston,” Lestelle said.
“The reason this place is in your price range is because its deed restricted. Specifically, it says here that the observatory must be maintain in functioning order and tours be made available on a monthly basis.”
“I’m okay with that,” Preston said.
“Failing this, you don’t get a return on your money. It remains with the state. You’re basically just renting it,” Lestelle said.
“I’m okay with that,” Preston said.
“The maintenance costs alone could potentially bankrupt you,” Lestelle argued.
Preston thought about it. Then he smiled.
“But we have engineer,” Preston said, giving upward palm gesture at Corissa.
“Now, wait just a minute, I’m not staying with you,” Corissa said.
“Ten and I have to go into hiding.”
“No one will come for you,” Preston assured her.
“They think she’s dead.”
“Why would they think that?” Corissa asked.
“Wait, this place is haunted!” Lestelle said.
“That’s why the three previous owners surrendered it back to the state!”
“Haunted?!” Ten said.
“I don’t want to go there.”
“Nothing bad will happen to you,” Preston assured her.
“The last time you said that I got my heart cut out!” Ten snapped.
“Don’t exaggerate,” Corissa said.
“Why doesn’t anyone ever believe me!” Ten cried. She ran to the flight deck and locked herself in, indicated by the red light on the door panel.
Gregg tried to go after her, but Corissa reminded him that she had the blaster.
“They know she escaped. It won’t take long before they figure out I helped her,” Corissa said.
Preston nodded.
“Here is what you are unaware of,” he said, describing the details as if he were watching a holo-novel unfolding before his eyes, with both present and future knowledge as vectors solidified from the mist. The Droid that had performed the heart transplant surgery malfunctioned and called the authorities. They arrived, serendipitously, directly after Corissa and Ten had fled the scene. They confiscated the Droid’s memory bank played it back up to the point where it malfunctioned. There was absolute, incriminating video evidence of the heart transplant and everyone who had been involved, including the agent and his two men. Even now, some of the video had leaked to the public news organizations and Ten, pleading for her life, was now going viral. Public outrage was up and a backlash against CPS was likely. The man who had received the heart would no doubt live a long, healthy life behind bars. He wold be viligantly kept alive, carrying the evidence of the crime. The news agency speculated that her body was probably cremated and dumped into the sewers. The authorities wouldn’t say if they had ascertained any other organs, but speculative reporters suggested that they had and her liver, pancreas, lungs, spleen, and kidneys were even now being used in a sting operations. The three men Corissa killed, in self-defense, were believed to have been killed by a disgruntled colleague who had taken the credits brought to them by the man needing a heart.
There was no doubt to the authorities or the journalists that there was a larger organization responsible for kidnapping children. An expert was quoted that one in four runaways end up trafficked for sex. Most don’t survive the year. Trafficking kids was more lucrative than even the most illicit drug trade. Shade, in a brilliant PR move, created a memorial fund in Tenico’s name, and was quoted by a tabloid: “Those who traffic children should be executed slowly. Of course I own slaves, it’s hard to run a business these days without minimally comped employees, but all of my people are adults, and all of them came into the business willingly. My business is open for public scrutiny, as my slave will tell you that they leave my services with more skills than they hired on with. I am more than willing to help the authorities put an end to this sort black market trade of our greatest resource, our younglings.”
Boys were trafficked as much as girls, but boys tended not to live as long, as their resale value was much lower. The cost of relocating younglings, selling them into slavery or simply selling their organs and then liquidating the unusable parts, was a fairly expensive process, and so the people who sought this commodity were not paupers. One ex drug lord was quoted as saying, “Most of my colleagues have moved away from drugs, because kids are more profitable. If I sell you a drug, that’s it. I’ve got to resupply. But a kid, now that is something you can sell more than once, if they don’t damage it too badly. What’s more, I don’t have to groom these kids, as most come willing and ready to serve because they want the money and glamour that comes with it. You’d be surprised how many think they’re trading up.” The CPS agent Corissa had killed had been using foster parents to temporarily house the children directly in plain sight. Ten’s parents’ part in this trade was quickly ascertained and they had been the first to be brought into custody. They seemed to show no more remorse by the fact that their daughter was dead than they did for any of the kids they had fostered. There was definitely a paper trail on the kids, but no lead to where they may have gone. Her parents played to the media, suggesting they had had no choice. Of course, the DA didn’t buy that but was compelled to make a deal with them to get them to turn state’s witness. Ten’s parents would win a new life in a witness relocation program.
“How do you know all of this?” Corissa asked.
“A little bird told me,” Preston said.
Corissa sat down, her hand trembling. She pointed the weapon at Preston with exaggerated motion, as if saying, ‘you?!’ She clicked the safety on, holstered the weapon. Gregg sat down. Lestelle allowed herself to breathe.
“As I said, this is bigger than us,” Preston said.
“I don’t know what’s all about to happen. I do know that we move in constellations, groups of people and players, all of us moving towards certain eventualities. Some of us come together. Some of us fall away. But some of us, no matter what we do, just keep coming together. There is something here that needs to be resolved and it will be, whether we resist it or not. I’m for letting it play out.”
“I don’t know,” Corissa said.
“You do know that you want to help Ten, that much is certain,” Preston said.
“I will die to protect her,” Corissa said.
Preston looked up and to the right, following her words to see if they were forewarning. Words, especially those spoken without forethought in a hasty attempt to support one’s belief or to fill an empty void, were likely to be self-fulfilling prophecies.
“You might have to. Ten is going to need a great deal of help to heal. The Force healed her injuries, gave her internal organs back, but her mind and emotional state have a ways to go.”
“Is that even possible?” Gregg asked.
“Growing new organs in an instant is an insignificant act,” Preston answered.
“Healing the heart, the spirit of a person, well, that is much harder, because from the perspective of the Force the pain is an illusion. The harder a person holds on to that, the more Force that is used to solidify the viewpoint. She is 9, she has PTSD, most likely abandonment issues, years of neglect and abuse on her shoulders, a history of being ignored. I imagine you don’t want to do this alone, Corissa.”
“I don’t,” Corissa said, feeling overwhelmed already.
“I can’t do it alone.”
“Then tarry awhile,” Preston invited.
“At least till you get your bearings again.”
“What about the ghosts?” Lestelle asked.
“You don’t believe in ghosts, do you?” Gregg asked, a general question to everyone, even though it was directed back to Lestelle.
“There are no such things as ghost,” Preston said.
“You believe in the Force but not ghosts?” Jordeen asked.
“Ghosts, by definition, are dead people. I don’t believe we die, so there can’t be ghosts,” Preston stated simply.
“It’s just people after a significant life change.”
“So it’s a matter of semantics for you?” Lestelle asked.
“You seem upset?” Jordeen said.
“I’m a little worried, yes. I grew up with a poltergeist in our house. It was a nuisance at best, a nightmare on its bad days,” Lestelle said.
“Nothing bad will happen,” Preston said.
“Umph,” Lestelle sulked.
“I wish I had your confidence. Any ideas how you’re going to make the down payment without drawing attention to yourself?”
“I will take care of that,” Preston said.
“Captain, would you mind steering us towards Dathomir?”
“I assume you like coincidences,” Gregg said.
“Coincidence is simply a way of stating ignorance of the grander design in play,” Preston said.
“Yeah, well, we should arrive in about twelve more hours,” Gregg said.
“Unless your lass in there has been messing with the navigation console.”
“She hasn’t,” Preston said.
♫♪►
Ten was hiding under the main control panel, lying on her side, fetal position. Preston came in, lay down on the floor, and without looking at her, started drawing imaginary letters in front of him. After a few minutes of not talking, she finally acknowledged him. The flight deck was dimly lit with glowing banks of red, amber, and green diodes describing switch positions. One panel had a luminous display that seemed to change at random, but probably held a significant pattern. From Ten’s perspective, Preston seemed to have an aura, but she figured it was due to the tears in her eyes.
“What is wrong with me?” Ten asked.
“You’re worried something is wrong with you?” Preston asked.
“Isn’t there?” Ten asked.
Preston drew another letter in the air then wiped it away, as if he had been writing in sand. He started over.
“What are you doing?” Ten asked. She sounded annoyed.
“Spelling,” Preston said.
“I find it helps calm me down.”
“What do you have to be stressed about? Your life is perfect,” Ten said.
“In some ways, it is. In other ways, it isn’t,” Preston agreed.
“Your life is stressful?”
“Really? I had my heart cut out!” Ten said.
“Yeah, and you’ll get some mileage out of that statement,” Preston agreed.
“But in other ways, it’s not so bad.”
“Tell me how it’s not bad?” Ten said, pushing to a sitting position and folding her arms around her legs.
“My parents never loved me. They rented me out for cheap to get drugs, and finally sold me to an organ distributor, who CUT my heart out.”
“Yep,” Preston agreed.
“When you say it like that, your life sucked.”
“How could you spin it any other way?!” Ten demanded.
“A pregnant woman was brought into a room by men wearing masks. The men put her on a table, they cut open her stomach, removed the fetus, and left the room with it,” Preston said, painting a picture.
“That’s awful. Why are you telling me this?” Ten asked.
“I told you that, so I could tell you this. The men were doctors. They were wearing surgical masks. The procedure saved the baby and the mother,” Preston said.
“How you perceive things affects your emotions.”
Ten sat there a long a moment.
“I don’t see how that relates to me,” Ten said.
“Why is this so hard?”
“It’s not hard,” Preston countered.
“It’s not easy!” Ten rebutted.
“Exactly,” Preston agreed. Ten frowned.
“It is what it is. Labeling your experience good or bad affects your judgment, your ability to transcend. Your situation sucked ass,” Preston said, not mincing words.
“Your life sucked.
That is definitely a perspective and you can spend the rest of eternity focused on what a raw deal you got, or you can focus on right here, right now, and breathe, and realize you’re okay, because there is a level of truth that to date you’ve only scratched the surface of what’s available to you. Right now the story continues to suck because you are caught up in the story. In fact, you are so caught up in this whirlwind that you’re missing some key points. Something happened. Something miraculous. Your heart was cut out. You died and came back. You have so many more choices, with two of the most obvious being: You can continue your life as a victim or you can start a new, as a survivor.”
“I wish I had chosen to stay dead,” Ten wept.
“I thought it would be easier, but nothing is going right.”
“Like what?” Preston asked.
“I want my parents to suffer. How is it fair that I have to be the one on the run the rest of my life,” Ten started.
Preston was impressed: she had heard the story.
“Nothing can undo what’s happened. There are no words that can erase it or make it better. Even if your parents changed right now, saw the misery they helped create, and tried to give you the love and support that you should have had from the start, you have a lot of healing ahead of you, a lot of forgiving,” Preston said.
“We’ve already had this conversation. I’m not the forgiving type,” Ten said.
“How can you expect your parents to change if you can’t?” Preston asked.
“They’re wrong! I’m not. They’re obligated to change,” Ten snapped.
“They’re wrong. And the impetus will still be on you to change, because this is about you, not them. Look, sometimes parents don’t love their children. There are millions of parents who should never have become parents. Most people don’t change in any significant way. The only one you can change is you,” Preston said.
“It’s not fair!” Ten said.
“I have to do all the work and they get off scot free.”
“It’s not fair,” Preston agreed. Telling her they were not going to get off Scott free was a distraction.
“And my watched stopped!” Ten lamented, and then showed her the tech in her sleeve.
“My music mixture blew out its screen and the flash memory was erased. It took me years to accumulate that music list, and it’s gone, just like that.”
“Like a sand mandala,” Preston agreed.
“What?”
“There is no loss, only exchange. You’re probably going to find what once held you is no longer sufficient. You’re going to have to push beyond the surface of things, really get deeper than you have allowed yourself to go,” Preston said, struggling to get the right words for things.
“You’ve been searching for meaning but have settled for distractions. You must stop seeing with your eyes and start viewing with your heart. The most essential is always invisible. To start, you will need to spend time in nature, spend time meditating. You’re going to find that until you master the Force, any electronics that isn’t shielded against magnetic pulses is likely to fail when it comes into physical contact with you.”
“Why?” Ten asked.
“A massive load of Force was channeled through your body to heal you. Atoms have a polarity, a magnetic polarity and a Force polarity, and every atom comprising your body was entrained, Force aligned, so, in some ways, you’re kind of like a giant walking magnet,” Preston said.
“It’s a side effect of having become one with the Force.”
“Can you undo it?” Ten asked.
“In time, if you don’t use the Force, as you let go of atoms and take in new atoms, your bodily system will become too chaotic to hold a Force charge,” Preston offered.
“Will you teach me to be a Jedi?” Ten asked.
“No,” Preston said.
Ten pushed her lower lip out, disappointed. Her fist tightened.
“I’m not a Jedi. I can only teach you what I know,” Preston says. Ten nodded, relaxed her fist.
“Will that be enough?” Ten asked. Preston shrugged.
“Thank you. For helping me,” Ten said.
“You’re welcome, but you should know, you’re doing all the work. Give yourself credit. And, now, if you’re feeling calmer, the others are worried about you,” Preston said.
Ten came out from under the console. She went to hug Preston and passed through him. He dissipated like smoke from a burnt out candle.
“What?” Ten asked.
Ten opened the door to the flight deck. Preston was sitting in the same chair he had been sitting in when she had fled the room. She drew slowly into the room, not sure what to make of it. Everyone was looking at her.
“I’m sorry,” Ten said.
“I guess I freaked out.”
“Apparently, you’ve had a long day. If you like, you can sleep in my quarters,” Gregg said.
“I don’t want to be alone,” Ten said.
“I’ll go with you,” Corissa said, standing.
Corissa took Ten’s hand and led her towards the only crew compartment, which she discerned from her years of experience doing maintenance. Ten paused and looked back to Preston.
“Are there really ghost where we’re going?” Ten asked.
“I’ll clean house before we get there,” Preston said.
“It’s okay,” Ten said.
“I’m not afraid anymore.”
Preston nodded approval, but he was confident she wasn’t being accurate. That, and he was pretty sure he heard the echo of Yoda’s voice commenting: “You will be…” Preston pushed himself to contend with the here and now.
♫♪►
The place was definitely haunted, but mostly by the living. A seasonal band of Rancor poachers would make residence near the Chapter Hall, the most east building, connected to the outside of the cloister walk that encircled the cloister itself. The cloister had one tree, dead center, reaching out to the sky, the tip of the tree barely higher than the cloister wall. The tree itself was jagged, as if it was a bolt of splintered lightning solidified. No doubt the poachers had started the rumors of the place being haunted to scare people off, but in the act of labeling it a haunt, they had actually attracted more ghosts. The first ghost Preston encountered appeared to be drinking from the makeshift bar established by the poachers.
Preston approached the ghost. It was crying into its beer.
“You okay?” Preston asked.
“Do I look okay?” the ghost retorted.
“I can’t make them stop. I couldn’t save my friend and I can’t make these guys stop.”
“You’re friend?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” the ghost said.
Preston opened a beer. It was more a prop than anything, as he wasn’t actually drinking in his present form, but it seemed to comfort the ghost.
“I’m Preston,” Preston said.
“Malakili,” the ghost answered.
“Tell me about your friend,” Preston said.
“It was an enslaved Rancor, in Jabba the Hutt’s palace,” Malakili said.
“I was going to try and sneak him away, but he was killed by a Jedi.” He said this latter with hatred and spit. He shook a fist as if threatening someone.
“Why would a Jedi kill a Rancor?” Preston asked.
“Are you calling me a liar?!” the ghost raged. Funriture in the room toppled, echoing in the stillness. Had folks been in earshot, they most likely would have been disturbed.
“No, I’m trying to understand,” Preston said.
“You can’t understand!” the ghost repeated.
“I watched the Jedi throw the rock that killed him.”
“You mean a Jedi killed a Ranchor with a boulder, right?” Preston asked.
“No, a rock, like this size!” Malakili said.
“Not likely,” Preston said, wondering if even a Jedi could throw a rock hard enough to knock a ranchor out, much less kill one.
“I was there! The Jedi threw the rock which hit the switch which lowered the gate which closed on my friend and killed him!” Malakili said.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Preston said.
“I swear, I will kill you if you call me a liar again,” Malakili said.
“I am not calling you a liar, sir,” Preston said.
“It just doesn’t make sense.”
“You couldn’t possibly understand,” Malakili said.
“But I’m trying. Why would the Jedi throw a rock, when he could just push the button to lower the gate using the Force?” Preston asked.
Malakili broke the beer bottle on the counter.
“It’s on!” he said, taking a swipe.
Preston easily moved out of the way. Even though Malakili was not really drinking beer, because he was ghost, Malakili did believe he was drinking a beer, and therefore he had taken on the characteristics of someone who had been drinking for a long while.
“You better not be a Jedi,” Malakili said.
“I assure you, I’m not a Jedi,” Preston told him.
Malakili sat down on a stool, drunk, exhausted, and started sobbing again.
“I’ve searched and I’ve searched and I can’t find my friend anywhere,” Malakili said.
“Maybe if you try higher,” Preston suggested.
“I can’t leave here,” Malakili said.
“I have to try and prevent the poachers from doing more damage. I can’t leave till I repay my debt.”
“I will stop the poachers,” Preston said.
“You would do that for me?” Malakili asked.
“No, but I would do that for the Rancors,” Preston said.
Malakili stood up, grabbing Preston’s shoulders and shaking with joy.
“You understand! They’re intelligent and worth saving. I should have done something sooner. It’s my fault. Do you think he will ever forgive me?”
“The question is, do you think you can ever forgive yourself?” Preston asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, and dissipated.
♫♪►
The adolescent Rancor was trapped. The ravine walls were too high for him to climb in his present state, and the only way out was back towards the hunters. Part of him wished he had stayed with the group, as his chances would have been better, but part of him knew that coming this way would lead the poachers away and give others a chance to escape. Its back against a rock wall, it turned to await its destiny. To its surprise, a human male already stood there, smiling up at it as if it had no common sense about approaching a creature this size. Further, it was unharmed. The Ranchor was in pain, angry, but so baffled that it hesitated.
“May I heal you?” the human asked.
The Rancor chirped something, unable to commit to a full growl. It had never been so utterly surprised before. How had this human snuck up on him? The human closed his eyes, reached out with one hand, and healed the wounds. It looked up at the cliff and calculated the time it would take to reach the top. It could now climb the ravine with ease, though it might not have time to get up and over before the poachers arrived with their riffles.
“Do you trust me?” the human asked.
The Rancor cocked its head to the right, as if listenin