Homecoming

Timeline: 31 years after the Battle of Yavin

Two cloaked figures walked through the midmorning streets of Coruscant's lowest levels. It was rare for the sunlight to reach this far, but by some miraculous happenstance of modernization, a long strip of street lay open to the noon sunlight. It was like walking across a road of gold.

One of the figures, wrapped in dark green, stepped gingerly around puddles of liquid refuse and its more solid cousins. The manner of stride and play of legs suggested that the figure was female and, moreover, of highborn citizenry. She turned to her fellow traveler, wrapped in navy blue, and said, "I find it hard to believe you actually miss this place, Master."

The upper half of the blue-cloaked figure's face was hidden beneath the cowl of the cloak, but a hint of a smile crossed the exposed lower half. "It was my first home and my first family, Angela," he replied. He led the girl off the golden strip and down a darker, grittier sidewalk.

Ran Tonno-Skeve had not been home in a very long time. Over the past few years, he had visited Coruscant as part of a mission or for an independent adventure, but it had been over two decades since he actually set foot on these gutter-levels—his home. He surveyed the dingy surroundings with bright green eyes. "So much time, and yet not a thing has changed," he murmured.

He pointed to a dilapidated building, one of many such structures, remarkable only for the glowing sign hanging out front. Half of the lights were out and the other half blinked wildly. It was on the verge of total malfunction. "That sign's been that way ever since I was a kid," he explained. "It was a brothel when I lived here. But now it looks like its deserted."

Angela cringed distastefully. "How can you sound so happy to be around such a place?"

"The brothel girls used to feed me and my friends whenever they could," he said. "They were very kind, though most of them were deathly ill, as I recall. I believe it was the pox that killed most of them." He sighed sadly.

Angela blinked. "But the pox is so…crude. There are many treatments for it."

"You can't get even simple treatments this far down, Angie," Ran said with grave seriousness and greater sorrow. "It was a miracle that I lived out those five years of my life down here. By rights, I should have died in infancy."

"Tell that to those slaver scum we arrested," the brown-haired girl said. They had come to the gutters of Coruscant to bring down a large slaving cartel that was operating out of the seedier bars and warehouses. It took only two days of investigative footwork to discern the major base of operations and another four hours to wipe out the slavers for good. The past day and a half were spent rounding up the smaller bases and freeing the slaves. The Federation authorities handled the rest.

It had been a simple assignment, one that offered plenty of action to sate both their needs. It was unbecoming for Jedi to crave adventure and excitement, but they both did—the Jedi Code be damned. Their shared addiction to adrenaline enabled them to save hundreds of lives from the cruel fate of slavery—that was enough justification for them to disobey the letter of the Code, as far as they were concerned.

With the slave ring broken, two action-loving Jedi had little reason to remain. But Ran insisted on staying for a few more days. His old gang used to live down here, among the refuse and sickness, scraping a meager living from petty theft. Nostalgia drew him on this road. When he had left, he left under violent circumstances. He wondered if any of his friends were still alive.

"As I recall, the apartment should be around here," he announced. "Keep your hand on your lightsaber, Angie. This place used to be pretty rough. Probably still is."

His student snorted derisively. "Master, I've had my hand on my weapon since we first set foot in this dismal place." Angela was a noblewoman, born and bred, and she still clung to her old prejudices. He did not mind, though. Though he thought back on his gang life with fondness, he knew his opinion was colored by good memories. In objective hindsight, he lived a truly destitute and hopeless existence before joining the Jedi Order.

He turned a corner and found himself standing before the ruins of an apartment complex. It was a three-story building with the roof caved in. Twisted pieces of metal—the skeletal remains of a fire escape—hung limply from the side of the structure. Piles of unprocessed garbage littered the gutters, turning the drain water a sickly green-brown. A few squatters sat amidst the trash, wrapping their tattered lips around the mouths of their whiskey bottles.

"Looks like nothing's changed," he said simply, his tone somewhere between fond memory and grim realism. His heart was also in conflict. It was good to see his home again, where he had many good times alongside his gang. But coming back only reminded him just how glad he was to have left it all behind.

He felt Angela's hand squeeze his. He returned with one of his own. "I've seen what I wanted to see," he said. "Let's get out of here."

"Ran…" she began carefully.

He shook his head. "I'm all right, really. Come on. Let's—"

That was when they heard the blaster fire. Two cowled heads spun in the direction of the blaster's rapport. There was a squeal, followed by another burst. It was followed by a hard click that sounded throughout the empty street. "That was a nine millimeter," Ran noted, recognizing the distinctive whine of the weapon's charger as it launched its deadly projectile.

His student nodded her agreement. "Military-grade, too, if that clicking sound is a reloading charge."

He pointed. "It came from that way. Let's go." They ran off, following their instincts and their thirst for excitement. If someone was in trouble, then it was their duty as Jedi to help. That their duty might involve a fight was a bonus.

They rounded a corner and stepped into an alley, where a Rodian stood with his back to the Jedi. He held a carbine in his green hands, keeping it trained on a fat human huddling at the end of the alley. The human's face was contorted in pain and his leg was black from the carbon scoring of a blaster injury. The Rodian said something in a language of grunts and squeals.

Angela stepped forward, igniting her lightsaber. Its hiss and hum caught the Rodian's attention. "Your mother should wash your mouth for such language," she said evenly. Ran knew that his student had incredible linguistic capabilities.

Ran did not ignite his blade, but he did step up to the Rodian, staring the shorter alien right in the bulbous black eyes. "My friend here is young and impetuous," he said dangerously. "I suggest an apology to this man here and a calm explanation of what's going on."

The human struggled to a sitting position and cried, "He's a killer, that's what! He's after me for no reason!"

The Rodian retorted sharply. Ran looked to Angela, who translated, "The man over there owes a Hutt lord quite a few credits." She bit the end of her sentence with tart dryness. She had heard similar tales a hundred times before, as had Ran. It was nothing new, just a sad fact about underworld life.

"Well, killing him won't get the debt paid off," Ran noted to the Rodian. "Why don't you put up that thing and let's talk this over like civilized sentients."

The Rodian replied with a series of squeals.

Ran's brows furrowed. "That didn't sound very nice," he noted wryly.

"He said that he doesn't walk away from a bounty," Angela said.

The green-eyed Jedi shifted his robe, giving the Rodian a good, clean view of the lightsaber that hung from his belt. The alien's black bulbous eyes grew wide and he scuttled away in a hurry.

"I don't like Hutts," Ran commented, "or their minions." He turned to the cowering man in the corner. "Now let's see who we have here." He let out a surprised gasp at what he saw.

The man had a shaggy beard and needle tracks up and down his arm. He reeked of alcohol, urine, and vomit. To say he was a disgusting specimen of the human race was an understatement—but the repulsiveness of the man was not what drew a strangled cry from Ran. It was the fact that the Jedi recognized him.

"Chub-Chub?" Ran said questioningly, hardly believing the wrecked sight before him.

The man's eyes widened, as if shocked to hear that name, and realization slowly dawned on him. He studied Ran's face intently. A wide smile of recognition crossed his fat lips. "Ran—its you, isn't it? Old quick-fingers himself!" Chub-Chub stood and wrapped the green-eyed Jedi in a thick, fatty embrace.

Ran let out a burst of breath. He gasped, "I missed you, too, Chub, but I need air!"

Chub-Chub released him quickly and apologetically said, "Sorry, but its just so good to see you again." He took a good look at the robe, the tunic, and the lightsaber. "So you're a Jedi now. Who'd have thought, yeah? Hell, I'll bet you could give Dog a good fight now, eh?"

Ran laughed. "He was always a tough guy, wasn't he?" Reunited with his old gang mate, the green-eyed Jedi could feel nothing but joy. A thousand memories soared through his mind. An exciting childhood full of laughter, camaraderie, and troublemaking. The stories Boss told him, which he remembered down the years. The solid, stable reliability of protective Dog, the fighter and street tough. Chub-Chub's cooking, always filling despite the questionable quality of the ingredients. Those times seemed so much purer, cleaner, even though Ran always worried about whether or not he would eat that day.

Then Angela cleared her throat noisily.

Chub-Chub seemed to notice her for the first time and gave her a wolfish whistle. Ran smirked at his apprentice's fuming reaction. "So who's this lovely vision, Ran?" the fat man said, nudging him suggestively. "Been doing a bit of cradle-robbing, have you?"

The brown-haired girl's expression would have stopped the heart of sterner men. It made Ran laugh.

The green-eyed Jedi laid an arm across her shoulders, pulling her against him. "She's legal, Chubby," he said smilingly. "This is Angela Marshair, my apprentice."

The fat man bowed rakishly, very similar to Ran's own dramatic performances. "A pleasure to meet you. Thank you both for saving me there."

"Which brings to mind the question: do you owe money to the Hutts?" Angela asked crisply. Her sharpness put the situation back into perspective for Ran. He had momentarily forgotten the reason for the alley fight because of nostalgia. He became the Jedi Master once again, shoving aside personal feelings for duty. It never bothered him before, but never had his responsibilities hit so close to home; it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Chub-Chub began to sweat under Angela's inquiring gaze. He turned to Ran, looking for aid. Pleadingly, he said, "It wasn't my fault. Yes, I do owe money, a lot of money, but things have been so downhill these past few years. I just couldn't keep up with the technology, you know? I couldn't slice into things anymore, because I didn't know the systems. I needed money."

Ran laid a soothing hand on a fat shoulder. "Slow down, Chub. What happened? Start from the beginning."

The fat man took in a deep breath and began again. "If you want beginnings, I guess you could say it started right after the gang broke up—that was about twenty-three or so years ago, now. Well, Boss got killed back then, right off the bat. Dog got thrown into jail, but busted himself out half a year later. I broke my leg, got put up in a hospital for a few months. When I got out, I heard that you were taken off Coruscant."

"I was with the Jedi by then," Ran replied.

"Oh. Well, I went looking around for Dog. He was selling himself as a thug-for-hire. We worked together for a bit, doing some robberies—nothing major. He got himself killed on one of our jobs, I think. At the least, he got injured real bad. I haven't seen him since. That was over ten years ago.

"After that, I kind of drifted. I went back to slicing, stealing bank accounts and stuff. But technology just kept advancing and I couldn't keep up with the race. I was soon back hereabouts, doing whatever I could. But I'm not smart like Boss was, or tough like Dog, or a good thief like you were. All I could do was slice things. Now I can't even do that." His head dropped to his chest sorrowfully.

"Finally, I ended up getting loans from Koddo the Hutt. I used the money to try and rig up a horse race. I figured I could at least do that. But it didn't work out. I was in debt up to my neck, Ran. I've been on the run for the past three months. It's been hell, Ran. Absolute hell." He looked up hopefully, his eyes glowing. "Maybe…maybe you can fix it? Make it all better? I mean, you're a Jedi now! You can do anything, right?"

Ran had to turn away from those bright, optimistic eyes. Chub-Chub was always something of a follower, back when the gang was around. To look at him now, so shattered and helpless, left the green-eyed Jedi feeling hollow. In a way, he thought, Chub-Chub is as dead as Boss and Dog.

"You can help, right, Ran? We're best buddies, so you'll help me?"

Ran wondered if Chub-Chub had spoken like that when he went to Koddo looking for money.

"Yes, Chub," he murmured. "I'll help."

Much later, when night had fallen and the two Jedi were packing their belongings, Ran felt hot tears burn rivers down his cheeks. They came unbidden, unwanted, without warning. But he could not stop them. He did not know why he cried—in fact, he could not remember the last time he shed tears for anything.

Ran was a man of passions, of drive and instinct. Logical thought came second to the insistence of the living Force, so he rarely analyzed why he felt certain things. It was beyond him, placing objective ideas on abstract concepts. But right now, he wanted to know why he cried.

"Your feelings betray you, Master," Angela said softly, coming up behind him and taking his hand. Her touch was soothing, taking away the monstrous weight that was building on his shoulders and his heart.

He brushed away his tears, sniffling. He thought he looked like a weepy child. Normally, masculine pride would force him to deny Angela's observations, but around her, he could be honest about everything. He did not have to play the role of the rake, not with her.

"Maybe they do," he said, "but I'm not wise enough to figure out why."

"You came here, hoping to find some pleasant memories," she answered. "Instead, you find your home in pieces and one of your friends ruined. I can't pretend to know what you're going through, Ran, but I think it would make me cry to find my entire childhood destroyed."

Ran touched his face, hid his eyes as more tears welled up. "I shouldn't have come back here. It was a mistake. I didn't need to see this."

"Then you wouldn't have helped your friend," she pointed out. "You had a duty to him—as his friend and family, and as a Jedi. You got him out of debt, and that's a good thing." She brushed his cheek. Her touch was feathery, matronly, caring. Ran felt at home.

"I know that," he said. "But I don't want to think about all the shit that he must have gone through. What Boss and Dog went through. What I went through. To see our family broken apart like this…it makes me wonder if those carefree days ever existed."

He smiled, remembering. "Back in those days, Boss would always tell me stories. I can recall every one of them, too. He was the leader, the thinker, the man with the plan. He always had a plan for everything. I looked up to him a lot."

"He sounds like a very fatherly person," Angela agreed. "Could you tell me about the others?"

When he started, he could not stop. "Dog was always a tough one. Always solved things with his fist. He was quiet, but protective, and took care of us." He sniffled and wiped his nose. "He wanted us to think he was this invincible street fighter, a real man, but we knew he was a softy at heart.

"And then there's Chub-Chub, always eating, always smiling. I thought of him as a big brother, but one very close to my age, even though he's a lot older than me. We'd get into so much trouble, him and me. We all did. But you know what? We didn't care or worry, because we were a team."

He was shuddering with sobs and he leaned into Angela's embrace, his heart pouring with his tears. "Yeah. We were a team. Best in the gutters, the closest of any family. A real team.

"God, but those were the days."

The End