AYERI

It was the same look everyone gave me the moment I said hello. Well, technically, I said "Bonjour," but people don't really recognize the Varién language, I suppose. It's not really my fault, Basic is just so…boring. Seriously, what kind of word is "hello" anyway? It was moments like this that I seriously contemplated going back to the Var System. People there were a lot kinder, and nobody there spoke Basic. Of course, I was wanted there for various reasons, not to mention there were some, uh, awful memories.

But enough on those ghosts of the past, yes? Let's get back to the dumbfounded looks on the Republic Customs officers.

"Oh, sorry," I apologized for my use of Varién. What in the name of the Seven am I apologizing for? It's my own language! "I meant to say hello." Smooth, Ayeri, smooth.

"It's…no problem, Captain," the wizened officer stated. There were two others behind him, the two that would be searching my ship, the Azure Mer. "My boys are gonna take a look into your cargo hold. If you'd please show me your credentials.

I handed him a small blue card, which he scanned into a datapad. Good thing the Republic has no access to Var's systems, otherwise I'd be carted off to Republic prison… The card held my information, as well as my criminal record…which thankfully, the Republic saw as "clean" for now. The officer was reading aloud to himself.

"Captain Ayeri Kels…from Dallon, in the Var System…XS Freighter…Azure Mer…" he muttered to himself. After scrolling down a bit, he decided I was clear and handed my card back to me. "Welcome to Tython, Captain Ayeri," he said much louder, with a welcoming smile.

I smiled back, just as the two from before came back from my ship. "I've gotta say, Captain," one said, "you know how to keep a clean cargo hold. You wouldn't believe some of the messes we've seen!"

"Thank you, I think," I replied, thinking back to my cargo hold. It wasn't actually that clean. These guys must've seen quite a few slobs before. "I'll just go on board and grab a sample of my cargo for the Masters," I said, gesturing to my ship and running up the ramp.

"Of course," the elder officer stated. "Enjoy your time here," he said, and all three of them began to turn back to where they had come from. I darted into my ship, and passed the corridor to the cargo hold. There were several boxes stacked relatively neatly, and I pushed most of them aside until I reached the center, where no one ever bothered to look. I opened the sealed lid on the metal box, and reached in, digging through a bunch of lightsaber parts I was legally delivering the Grand Master Satele Shan from Balmorra. Illegally, however, I was transporting a golden dagger, engraved with some kind of ancient dialect that I couldn't read, to a man staying in the Jedi Temple. Why he chose this place to rendezvous, I had absolutely no clue, but once it was out of my hands and I had my credits, it wasn't my problem.

I slid the dagger into my boot and picked up one of the boxes for Master Satele to inspect. I carefully maneuvered through the halls of the Azure Mer and went out into the light of day. Directly across the landing strip was a clear path down to the temple, and I followed it, peering over the box at the beautiful scenery. The sky on Tython was a deep, rich blue, and everywhere you looked there was a rocky slope dotted with trees, streams, and waterfalls. It sort of reminded my of Alderaan, but the comparison stopped there. There was a strange aura about the place, and I supposed that was the Force that I'd been told so much about. It stirred something in my heart, but I left it, instead focusing on the gleaming, golden Jedi Temple ahead. It was huge, with brilliant architecture and beautiful, gleaming fixtures. I walked through the very large and grand entryway, making a quick turnaround to see the whole room almost admiringly, then went up the spiral ramp. The interior was just as golden, just as magnificent, as the outside was, and there were Jedi and Padawans busying about the whole place. I couldn't help but hope that one of those Padawans would be my little sister, Sharnalla, but that was just wishful thinking. There was no way of knowing if she was even on Tython.

SHARNALLA:

That settled it for Sharnalla Kels, Tython, was amazing. In her eight years of learning under some of the greatest Masters, traveling to countless systems, the sixteen-year-old hadn't seen a more beautiful planet. She'd just finished speaking with Grand Master Satele Shan, leader of the Jedi Council, in her meditation chambers, on account of her own "thrilling heroics". Indeed, it was heroic what she did, saving all those Padawans from the flesh raiders, but she didn't feel as if she'd accomplished something. She'd killed a man. An evil, twisted man, but a man nonetheless. She remembered the shock in his eyes when she'd struck him down, and shuddered. It was a good thing she was a Jedi and not a Sith; the young padawan couldn't imagine how one could take pleasure in killing someone.

She walked more briskly.

So captivated was she by her thoughts, she didn't realize when she ran into a woman carrying a large box.

"Agh!" the woman exclaimed. "Watch where you're going, kid!"

"S-sorry, madame!" Sharnalla apologized, scrambling to untangle herself from the red-headed stranger.

Only it wasn't a stranger. This woman she—after untangling herself, of course—recognized very well. It was after all, her sister, Ayeri Kels.