Chapter 1: The Tribe
Pebbles crunched beneath Kett's boots as he trudged along the rubble-littered sidewalk. Smoke and ashes wafted up gently from the smoldering ruins of shops and houses, permeating each breath of air with the pungent odor of burnt bodies and synthetics. In only a day or two, the stench of decay would take over – but Kett didn't plan to stay that long. His home was a continent away, and battle droid squads were still patrolling even in the remote wilderness of his native planet Sarodon.
Two days before, he'd come across an elderly couple living in a small cottage in the forest. The droids had not disturbed them, they said, but it might only be a matter of time. Most of the towns in the Centar Region had been razed, the civilians rounded up and shipped to wherever the Separatists decided. Nobody knew for sure; those lucky enough to evade capture had no reliable contact with outside sources.
The old man had kindly given Kett his old service carbine and two power packs, enough to give him a fighting chance should he run across a group of droids. Kett didn't intend to have any run-ins, though. For now, it was hard enough just to find food and water along the way home, and fighting was too great a risk to his life. From time to time, Kett would duck beneath a fallen awning or take cover in a burnt-out house when the guttural whine of massive troop landing ships broke the nearly serene stillness. They probably weren't scanning anyways, but it wouldn't hurt to hide just in case.
He scanned the remains nearby for food, or tools, or working devices. From memory alone, Kett could remember these first dozens of kilometers on the way home – he'd traveled the route many days to and from work in Centar City. But the scenery looked much different on foot, and passed much more slowly. The battle droids had been efficient in their destruction, he noted. A few squads could overpower a town's police force with ease, and just as quickly burn every standing structure until it fell or was otherwise rendered useless. The effect was pure devastation wherever they marched.
Kett pulled his cap brim up and wiped his forehead, already itching where his hair had grown down over his forehead. Were it not for this invasion, Kett would have had it cut. He stopped to remember what all had come to pass in the past few years.
When fighting first broke out on Geonosis, the politicians had said this civil war would be over quickly. The Separatists would be defeated handily with the help of those mysterious clones. A Sarodan regiment was even raised to augment the clones at the war's start, only to be wiped out to the man on some moon halfway across the galaxy – that hadn't gone over well with the Sarodan public.
Now the Separatists had come in force, and the Republic's glorious Grand Army was nowhere to be seen. Kett felt some dark amusement at the thought of those stupid legislators being blasted away by Separatist firing squads. In fact, Kett had heard that the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic had himself been abducted by the Separatists, and he felt no more sympathy for that old man Palpatine than his own representatives.
The whirr of STAP swoops broke through Kett's imagination, and he looked around for cover. "Blast!" he exclaimed, seeing only decimated piles and a few burnt bushes nearby. He took a deep breath, and thought quickly. He had one shot to save his skin, and his plan had better work. So he holstered the blaster and waved his arms frantically. "Hey! Over here!" Kett yelled desperately.
The droids took note, naturally, and immediately trained their blaster cannons on him as they approached. The STAP's were intimidating, to be sure, but Kett had an advantage. Superior intelligence. In a matter of seconds, the swoops came to a halt two meters ahead of Kett and stopped. "Hold it right there," one droid ordered. "You're under arrest."
"B-but the commander ordered us to flush these woods for stragglers," Kett stammered. He didn't have to pretend he was nervous, at least. "We were sent by a command droid to find survivors," he explained again. "We're loyal Separatists."
"That does not compute," the droid replied. "I have no record of militia units operating in this area. Let me see your identification," it ordered. Kett walked up to the STAP's, standing where he could see both droids from the side while pretending to search his pockets for an identification chip.
"I'm reading multiple human-sized life forms on my scope," the other droid chimed.
That was interesting, Kett hadn't noticed anyone. "My team, sir," he bluffed. "I think some of them are still sweeping the area." He was inching closer to the blaster on his hip, still patting each pocket deliberately.
"Why aren't you with your team?" the first droid inquired. Did Kett detect a note of suspicion in its monotone voice?
"They sent me to, er, pick that up over there," Kett said as he pointed away towards a smoking heap a few meters away.
Of all things, they both looked. Kett pulled his blaster out quickly and smoothly, raised it to eye level, and blasted the droids in rapid succession. Their metal frames crumpled away from their mounts and fell to the ground with a clanking thud. Kett stepped over each one and blasted its head. He didn't want either to survive long enough to send a distress signal to the surrounding droid forces.
Kett's mind turned instantly to the life forms. He still grasped his blaster tightly, in case these life forms weren't so friendly either. Perhaps they were a scavenging group roaming through the woods, or just a family of survivors. Kett broke for the wood line to find cover before stopping dead in his tracks as a burly Twi'Lek man emerged from behind one bush with a blaster rifle pointed at Kett's chest. A young human boy materialized, similarly armed. Then Kett realized he was surrounded. It was a trap. He lowered his blaster.
"Where you going, stranger?" asked a chirpy female voice from behind. "You weren't going to leave without so much as a hello, were you?" Kett dared not reply yet. "Quiet, hm? We can fix that."
"Why don't you let me soften him up a bit?" the burly one asked her. Kett fixed his gaze on him, but kept his ears open in anticipation of an attack from the side. "Just a little fun, eh?"
"Last time you softened one up, there was no fun left," a raspy voice added from the side. "You finished up and didn't leave us anything," it added with a pretentious note of bitterness.
A footstep behind him. Movement. Kett ducked as a fist sailed over where his ear had been, then kicked out in the direction of his assailant. The masked figure crumpled backwards, clearly stunned, as the circle of bandits looked on in startled silence. Kett held his fire, knowing he couldn't defeat them. The Twi'Lek woman stood slowly, clutching her gut where Kett's boot had connected. "You're quicker than most," she conceded with a note of pain. Kett held his tongue.
"Good thing 'e didna ketch ye in tha reebs," said a Devaronian with a thick North Country accent. "Yee'd be bent over wid' a few brok'n ones, for sure."
Kett looked about quickly to plan an escape. With these bandits circled around him, they'd be stupid to fire at once – surely a few bolts would miss and hit an unintended target. He looked for a weak link. Not the kid, the kid might just be trigger happy. Not the guffawing monster with a heavy blaster propped on his hip, either. The thin one he'd just kicked was armed. Still reeling. Kett took a deep breath.
He wheeled around with the mad speed of a dervish, and pounced on the female as she still struggled to regain her balance. She writhed and kicked as her comrades came to pull Kett away, but he quickly thrust his blaster upward and fired. The other bandits backed away, but would not be deterred long.
Kett dropped his carbine, and the female reached for it. Kett clamped her right arm down with his, and with his left he reached for the vibroblade on her hip. Kett grasped the handle and activated it. The hum startled her, and she stopped struggling for a moment. He brought the blade's tip to bear on her unprotected neck, stopping just short of her windpipe. "Anybody move, and she gets it!" Kett yelled.
Even if they blasted him now, any tiny movement would cause serious harm to the female. He held the high ground now, and they knew it. Only, Kett wasn't sure just how valuable this girl was – or wasn't. He found out in short order. "Drop them," she said just loud enough for the other bandits to hear. "Now, okay?"
Each one dropped their weapon slowly and took a step back.
"What's next?" Kett asked.
"Your move, cowboy," she observed despondently.
Kett looked up. "Everybody step back!" They did, amazingly enough. Kett needed a new plan now. But maybe something different. "Alright, miss, I'ma back up slowly. Any sudden moves, and I'll stick this vibroblade anywhere."
"Easy there," she muttered as she rolled back and sat up. Kett took the blaster and sat opposite her. "Now?" she prodded.
"Now we talk. Like civilized people," he added as the other bandits returned slowly to their weapons lying on the ground. "How about we start this conversation over again, hm?" Kett proposed between ragged breaths. "I think we might just be able to help each other out."
"I'm listening," she replied as her comrades stood with weapons leveled. "Let's hear it."
"My name's Kett Wilson. I'm a repair tech for Sarodon United's Material Engineering Division. You?"
The female drew her hood and mask down to show her strikingly deep green skin and two light blue eyes. "Nia," she replied. "We're Draxon Clan." Draxon Clan, Kett recalled, had not been of much consequence to law enforcement. There were many roving bands of separatists on Sarodon, some criminal and others simply nomadic. Draxon was militaristic, but rarely violent.
"We do good for those who do us good," Nia explained. "And we make things hard for those who do us wrong. You're on the line," she warned.
"Maybe," Kett conceded. "But my neck isn't the only one sticking out," he added with a nod toward the blaster he held in her direction. Kett thought quickly. "This invasion has us all under threat. I don't like the idea of dying alone out here, and I'm sure that Clan Draxon could use some technical experience."
"You think you can roll with us?" Nia probed with a hint of disbelief.
"Maybe," Kett answered as he handed the vibroblade back to its owner with care. "I'm just saying, I've got the know-how to tune your weapons and salvage gear. We could help each other."
Nia took the blaster gingerly and rocked it in her hand. "Or, I could just shoot you now."
"True," Kett conceded. "Question is, am I better to you alive or dead? Don't just throw away free help."
"No such thing as free help," Nia contradicted. "Somehow, I don't think you're all gushing with sympathy for our plight," she said.
"I have a family to find. They'll need me," Kett explained. "But I can't make it there on my own. Until I can find my way back, I'll stand a better chance of survival with your clan."
Nia cracked a sly smile. "Then you may speak to my father."
A middle-aged Twi'Lek man emerged from the brush several minutes later, and dozens more Draxons of various species seemed to materialize from the woods behind him. "I hear, young man, that you think yourself of value to us." The Twi'Lek seemed amused. "That is fine – I certainly would not tolerate a Draxon who thought nothing of himself. But what remains to be seen, Mr. Wilson, is whether you are as worthy of our name as you were of the United Corporation's pay."
As the elder Draxon stood beside his daughter, the handful of partisans encircling them faded back into the group, and started off along a path – presumably to their camp. "I don't like to go in blind," Kett said carefully. "What's to prove?"
"Nothing which will necessarily tax you, nor endanger you – although, should you fail, I must warn you that we cannot simply allow you to walk away with knowledge of our whereabouts," the man warned as they followed.
"Of course," Kett replied graciously. "And I must likewise make it clear that I will not make myself an easy target in that… unlikely case." For all his bold speech, Kett was still fearful. He had already survived a Separatist invasion, and did not want to die at the hands of a bunch of bandits.
"Ah, to be young again," the man mused wistfully. "But first we must build our camp, and eat. The clan has been moving all day, as we prepare to launch a fresh attack."
Kett waited for the man to look back at him. "I guess you know my name, but how should I call you?"
The older man smiled as he adjusted his shoulder pack. "I am Draxonus. I was born Drake, son of Draxonus and heir to the Draxon Eldership."
"It's an honor, then," Kett said politely. "What of this attack?"
"We will wait to see how you pass our trial first, and decide then what to tell you of our plans," Nia interjected.
"Fair enough," Kett conceded. They continued their hike in silence, following a single scout back to a small clearing atop a ridge where mostly women and children were gathered. As they arrived, the various clan members began to pitch small tents and prepare meals.
Kett followed Draxonus to the center of the camp, where he and Nia sat on the bare ground. Kett joined them, unsure of what custom might dictate. "Here," Draxonus handed Kett a wafer, "Eat with us."
Kett broke the wafer and offered half to Nia beside him. She took a generous bite before washing it down with a slug from her canteen. Kett likewise began to chew on his share of the wafer, hungry from the day's trek behind him.
Draxonus smiled quietly, apparently noting Kett's caution with the proffered food. Draxonus himself had not taken any of the wafer – perhaps it was poisoned or spoiled. But Nia had eaten, and Draxonus did not object. Therefore, the food must be whole. A wise move, Draxonus concluded. How would the young Kett handle their test, he wondered?
Nia offered her canteen in return, which Kett gladly accepted. Its contents surprised him. With the first mouthful he tasted not water, but a slightly sweet liquid that left a bitter aftertaste. It was garonsho, the nectar of a large flower found in the surrounding wilderness. Its consumption was lightly regulated in some locales due to a slight intoxicating effect, but could not be considered akin to strong drinks or liquors.
"Did you harvest this yourself?" Kett inquired thoughtfully.
"Yes," she answered.
"It tastes good. Wild garonsho is not easy to tap around here," Kett noted. The seasonal swings of the Centar Region were not as kind to the large, bulbous garon flower as were the temperate climes of the equatorial belt, but the native garon flower's nectar still provided an ample source of hydration for hikers and explorers who knew where to find them.
They ate on in silence for a few moments longer before Draxonus pulled a small flask from his pack along with two tiny glasses. "Now that we have dined, as is our custom, let us begin the trial. We have long inducted outsiders to our clan by a test of their wit and sincerity. Over the years, our forefathers found it of great aid to utilize the effect of certain herbal drugs to extract more - shall we say, honest? – responses from visitors like yourself."
Kett felt a bit uncomfortable now. Under the effect of a drug, he would have little chance to escape should things go awry. Even so, he had no chance to escape even given all his faculties to work with. There would be only one way out, and that was the way in: by passing the test.
Kett shifted uneasily as the clan gathered around in a makeshift circle, babies crying in the laps of their mothers and children jabbing each other in little struggles for space. The older men and some women gathered closer to Kett and Draxonus, apparently a sign of prestige and trust.
"You are, no doubt, aware of the properties of a riddle and its purpose?" Draxonus asked.
"Generally speaking, yes," Kett answered.
"So you know what a riddle is. But how you handle one, that's what I want to see. Are you prepared?"
"I suppose," Kett said. Draxonus poured a glass of tea from the flask and handed it to Kett, before pouring a second and setting it down between them. Kett smelled the tea first; it had a strange, musky odor. It would likely be most palatable if drunk quickly without tasting. He poured the contents down his throat and swallowed quickly.
It took effect almost immediately; Kett felt his extremities relax and all sensation of pressure fade away. His mind seemed to float about him, lingering like a cloud over his head. Yet, Kett noted, he could still think clearly. It was a strange feeling, being somehow intoxicated and yet acutely conscious of it. "I think we're ready," Kett declared.
"Very well, then. Suppose I hold in my right hand the life of a young child, an innocent. In the other, I hold the lives of five aged men, equally innocent. I propose to shut one hand or the other, and crush the life within it – and it is your choice what life to take, and what life to preserve. What do you choose, and why?"
Kett pondered for a moment, his mind slogging through a fog. The answer was clear, the facts laid out plainly. But would his answer be correct? Perhaps another answer, or another reason? His eyes darted to Nia's, who gazed back with intent expectation. The scores of partisans about him watched quietly, without a hint of emotion – only patient observance. Kett knew he was high, but how high? Were these questions inside logical, or merely a challenging effect?
It would still be better to answer honestly, though, even if his answer might not seem the most prudent. After all, was it not laid out in the riddle itself? Had not the Draxon elder led him to a choice? He had, but was it guidance or diversion? Wherein did the riddle lie? With the moral dilemma, or the choice itself? Kett would gamble on honesty.
"I would kill you. If you'd kill one innocent, why not kill five? And if you would kill five, then one more would mean nothing. Besides, if you wanted to torture me like that, you'd probably just kill me too. If we are all doomed to death, why play your game? I would rather go down fighting."
There was a murmur in the crowd around, Kett could hear. But their voices he couldn't tell apart. Draxonus still stared stoically, but was there a smile playing on his daughter's lips? Draxonus stood slowly. "Stand with me, young man, your fate is to be sealed now." Kett stood up, surprisingly light on his feet now.
"Clan of Draxon," Draxonus bellowed, "Here stands before us an outsider! How shall he die?"
Kett looked about quickly, but there was nowhere to run. Would this be how it all ended, he wondered?
Draxonus looked about at the crowd. They remained silent for a moment, before Nia herself stood and spoke. "Nia, daughter of Draxonus. The outsider shall die a Draxon! Who here stands with me?"
The crowd roared a deep, guttural howl. Kett felt as though the woods shook around him as they roared. What was in that tea, after all?
"Then, by the report of the children of Draxon, I commend the outsider Kett as a son of Draxon! Let him live as one of us, die as one of us! It has been decided!" Draxonus concluded, to the cheering crowd. Amid the whoops, screams, and roaring of the Draxons, Draxonus handed Kett the second glass.
As the cheering died down, Draxonus resumed the proceedings. "It was declared, many generations ago, that outsiders would be forever bonded to a native Draxon, their adopted kin. We chose that the new Draxon should share in drink with their fellow Draxon, and that the Draxon's kin should name him. It has been done so for these generations, and here the Draxon known as Kett now holds in his hand the glass of fellowship."
"My brother," he said to Kett, "It is your great privilege and right as a son of Draxon and brother of those about you to select one to whom you will be bound. This Draxon will be your defender to the clan, and you will in turn serve them for a time in honor of the name. The decision is yours, young Kett."
Kett handled the glass, looking about it, still absorbing the ceremony around him. Only that morning, he had been digging through a graveyard looking for scraps to survive on. Now he was to choose someone from a roving clan to whom he'd be indebted for an indefinite time – and that could mean anything. But a more tribal side of Kett took hold, as he assumed the character of the people about him. Much had changed in the past few days anyways; why not join a clan, then?
Kett lifted his glass up to eye level. "I choose you," he said, staring into the eyes of the elder's daughter, "Nia, daughter of Draxonus. You spoke for me before, and I trust that you will speak for me now."
She stood, beaming, and took the glass from Kett's hand. Nia drank it quickly, and stared him in the eyes as she began. "Today I name you Kett Draxon, cunning and gracious in victory. May you live long and raise strong children to the Draxon name!" She raised her glass high above her head, and as Kett followed it with his eyes, she delivered a swift kick to his abdomen. Those who had seen her fall to the same attack earlier erupted in uncontrolled laughter as Kett crumpled to the ground, similarly shamed.
"A great honor has been given to us," Draxonus declared, wiping his eyes between hearty guffaws. "We are joined by our brother Kett! We cannot rest, though. The war continues, and we seek to injure our enemy tonight. Let us rest for an hour, and resume the Kett then; ready yourselves for a long night!"
As the clan returned to their meals, Kett faced Nia and attempted a smile through the semi-numb feeling in his face – that tea still had him feeling mildly woozy. "You have spirit, for sure," Kett complemented as Nia picked him up by the hand. "What's this binding about?"
The young woman, now also inebriated, laughed aloud with the mirth of a drunk. "You, Kett, will carry my pack for a month! And feed me! And I expect only the best!" She doubled over with laughter. Kett noted that the tea seemed to have a different effect on Nia. Or did it? Did he look this ridiculous too?
Draxonus sought to intervene, apparently embarrassed by his daughter's behavior. "While our ceremony does call for the flask, I did not anticipate that my daughter would react so… well? It seems to draw out her playful side."
"Father! You are being entirely too stoic!" Nia said with a smile. "He doesn't mean to be so stuffy, Kett, it's just the nature of eldership. And I, for one, will not really make you carry all my stuff. I would like to at least keep a change of clothes for myself!" she declared before bursting into another round of laughter.
Kett laughed along politely, unsure how to proceed in the conversation. Draxonus must have sensed his apprehension, and prodded his daughter to cease her hilarity. "Nia, my daughter, you should at least take a moment to be serious with our new Draxon brother. I must confer with the council, now." As Draxon walked away, Nia returned to her seat in the grass and beckoned Kett to join her.
Kett sat down slowly, still unsure of his motor functions or how long the effect would last. Nia reached into her sack and retrieved a sack of dehydrated meat, then offered some to Kett. "Take a bit. It's tough, but you'll need it tonight." As Kett took a bite, she continued. "Now that my father is gone, I can speak candidly. You aren't really indebted to me like that. It's just an archaic old idea that we still kinda practice."
"Used to be, you might actually do stuff for me like wash my clothes and carry my pack, or a baby if I had one. Or if I was a guy, you'd carry my hunting weapon and some of my gear. But really, we don't have time for that. So you'll just follow me, and learn about Draxons and stuff and things we do."
Kett began to adjust to the effects of the tea, and proceeded with his earlier question about the attack. "So, then, what now? Are you attacking the Separatists?" he asked.
"For now," she answered, "We get ready for tonight." She giggled before adding, "But not like that! There's nothing going on tonight between us, except an attack, which is not the same as what I sounded like I was saying!"
Kett winced inside, hoping that the tea had not affected him so badly. He realized, then, that he was repeating his thoughts. And Kett vaguely noted that he had started to feel all too comfortable with a strange girl. Judging by her continual subdued laughter, Nia was losing a few inhibitions of her own.
"Anyways, what I was saying…" Nia paused for breath, "Is that we will be preparing a raiding party for tonight. Probably, you'll stay behind. So I'll stay behind too. Because your debt is to me, so it would kinda ruin the whole thing if I just up and died, right?" She chuckled again, albeit a bit darkly. "Maybe we'll both live through an entire month! That would be fantastic, right?"
"I guess," Kett replied with a smile. Nia didn't smile so brightly anymore. Had she remembered something terrible? "What's wrong?" he asked (and to his surprise, with genuine worry!).
"Nothing special," she began. "Just, we aren't ready for the Separatists. They're too well armed. Every time a raiding party comes back, someone dies. And, what's worse," she said quietly, "They have had to leave some behind. Draxons, dead in the field! It's shameful, and the families mourn so much. We were strong; only a month before the invasion we were three hundred strong! Now there are only a hundred of us."
"Some died, some left. The traitors surrendered, leaving us alone out here. The droids attack us whenever they see us! Even the children!" She looked ready to cry, but bit her lip. "It's no matter, though," Nia said with resolve. "We are Draxons, and we will always survive."
Kett held his tongue in preference of waiting until all his faculties had returned. As they sat silently chewing on strips of jerky, Kett felt guilty. Here these people were in search of new blood to carry their name on to a new generation, and – in their own, strange way – had entrusted Kett with their legacy. Yet he had no plans to stay. Clan Draxon and Nia would only be short stops along his way to find his true family.
