CHOSEN: JOURNAL OF THE WHILLS
The greatest man I have ever known, told me: 'Science is the futile search for absolutes in an ever-changing galaxy. The only belief worth holding onto is one that brings you closer to the Force.'
As a child of perhaps only five, I didn't understand what he meant, but I took it as a challenge. The way I saw it, there was the Force which was definite, then there was everything else: the absolute and the pursuit.
You could say my life's work began then, in that beachside hut listening to my grandfather, "Pop" as I called him, tell tales of impossible magic and wonder. I was just a curious little girl who lived outside the Jude Sea on Andara, poking her nose where it didn't belong, and learning all the wrong lessons about adventuring.
Now, well, I'm not a little girl on Andara anymore.
CHAPTER 1
Data Log 11247 - Journal 0421
Dr. Mary Au'Rona
"I wish you could see this." My voice cracked as I spoke to the ship's computer. "It's beautiful. We made it, buddy. Entering Ahch-To's atmosphere in 5…"
My hands flew across the control panel of the Corellian Engineering Corp's HWK-290x, designation Converso, coordinating the sublight drives, grav flaps and inertia dampeners for the descent.
The light freighter was from a time before the Galactic Empire took control of Corellia and changed their manufacturing priorities. The better armored and more customizable YT-line of light and medium-body freighters drove the "hawks" off the assembly lines. In her heyday, the Converso was a gunship that ran trainees to the Imperial Academies on Marleyvane and Lothal. Now, I hardly think the weapons systems are wired, but her holding bay and computing systems were upgraded to state-of-the-art.
Ahch-To looked like a swirling world of blue, grey and white; not a great mystery lost to time, nor the birthplace of the most influential religion in the history of the Galaxy. Remote would be a kind term to explain the system's loneliness. Nestled in the livable range of a dual-sun system near the border of the Unknown Regions, Ahch-To is the only planet within hundreds of parsecs in any direction that is not scorched from pole to pole.
I breached the atmosphere, and rocketed through an lightning squall that buffeted the hull from every direction. I didn't need my scanners to see how hard the landing was going to be; more than three quarters of the planet was covered in torrential hurricanes. The first thing I had to contend with was upper-atmospheric lightning that almost overworked the sublights, but kept the power low enough through the surge. Beneath the canopy of oppressive clouds, I swooped toward my coordinates and fought the deluge.
It took about an hour to find the island and maneuver to the eastern spur of a mountain range for safe landing. It was a tough bit of flying to do alone, the landing was bumpy, but I managed. A few minutes later I was geared up for a rainy hike and descending the gangplank out of the Converso's hold.
The twin suns hung in the sky, blocked behind endless layers of cloud cover, their luminance filtered through gray. All around me was soaking jungle, and fresh waterfalls flowed over the mountainside cracks and crevasses of the landscape. But as I hiked the verdant island all alone, I never truly felt lonely. It is hard to properly explain the feeling in a scientific journal because it had no measureable attributes.
Of course I tried, seeking out barometric, tectonic, magnetic, even sub-atomic scans for illumination, but found nothing. By all scientific means, Ahch-To was an unremarkable place.
It was as though the planet's atmosphere was a heavy curtain blocking a stage. I would push through, step by step, hoping the next would finally reveal what was on the other side, but never relented. It was like chasing a dream I hadn't had yet. If it wasn't so pleasant it would have been maddening.
I followed a time-worn path that cut through the jungle and across a mountain ledge. I found myself ensnared by the natural beauty and resilience of the place, when I came upon the settlement. Smokey pylons snaking into the cloudy sky guided my path for the last mile or so. Half of the time, I was ducking branches or scrambling over fallen logs, but still I entered the village center before sunsdown.
When I first saw them, the Lanai, I cannot understand it, but I wanted them to like me so much. It was silly, even now I wonder what came over me. But seeing the little, upright fish-bird beings, with their expressive and eager eyes, nearly made me forget my purpose here in the first place.
A part of me feared that if they did not like me they would not help me. I had come too far for this story not to have an ending (nor much of a beginning).
My anxiety must have shown because after a few minutes of nervously observing them like a tourist, a clutch of habit-draped Lanai came and took me by the hand. They led me into the largest of the many stacked-stone huts encircling the mountainside village. Their tiny bird-legs limited their agility. They sort of waddled to and fro, swaying and chirping happily in their native language.
They said they were the Caretakers. I smiled and nodded blankly, not letting on that I could understand them. I was curious and nervous, but too pleased to allow trepidation to slow me down.
My curiosity nearly bubbled over into anxiety when they sat me down in the center of the bare stone floor and told me to wait. I asked them in Basic if they could understand me, but they just bowed and waddled back out into the rain. It was dark within but the outside light spilled through the door hole and cracks in the walls. At the apex of the domed structure, spirals of stone fanned out to vent smoke through tiny cracks, but caught the rainwater and distributed it harmlessly back outside.
I looked all around me and found that, besides an empty fire pit and some unoccupied stools, I was completely alone. At the back of the space was a raised dais with darkly colored bolts of cloth covering the floor, in addition to wreathes of vines and dried herbs adorning what appeared to be an altar.
I was a heartbeat away from standing up and walking over to the platform when a line of the Caretakers entered. Without drawing too much attention, I returned to my seat and watched. They came in and placed logs in the pit before the dais one at a time, and then took a seat. About a dozen of them performed the ritual in silence, never looking up from the ground even as they took their seats. I observed silently, anxiously hoping this was a good sign.
When the anxiety of the crowded silence reached a head, in walked two final Lanai. There was a young one in a plain white habit and an elder in faded navy, with a belt of tan leather, and green beads looped over her head and around her waist. The young one escorted the matron of their colony in. She did not bow her head as all the others had, rather, she gazed directly into my eyes and captivated me. Her emerald green eyes appeared as though they could perceive everything and more. I felt naked and a little uneasy as she approached.
The elder one placed her hands on either of my cheeks and pulled my face level with hers. She clucked with an air of dismissal, but then she broke off her stare for a moment. Her inquisitive eyes flitted down to my necklace and then back again. She clicked her tongue with an air of significance, then released my face and continued walking.
Her demeanor was unreadable, but the rest of the commune was clearly at ease. The other Lanai were nodding to each other and to me, chittering in excited whispers and watching the matron pass. The young one at her side escorted the matron to the dais and made sure she was comfortably seated. Then the little one placed a final log on the stack in the pit and quickly hustled out of the hut.
It seemed an inconsequential thing, but upon further inspection it was clear this final offering was different from the rest. The young one left behind a petrified log, streaked with a swirling rainbow of colors within the fibers of the wood and crystallized edges. Then she reappeared at the doorway as quickly as she disappeared, and this time the little one had a blazing torch in hand.
The matron clapped, her eyes blazing as she followed the torch light in. The young one approached cautiously, nervous for the attention. Another of the Lanai patted her on the back and squeaked in reassurance. She took a deep breath then touched the fiery torch to the topmost log. The petrified log burst into brilliant white light in an instant, and then tilted to drop into the heart of the stack of logs.
Within moments the pit was roaring with flame and the Lanai raised their hands and their voices to sing and cheer. I clapped and laughed along with them; it was quaint and inviting. The smoke dissipated through the stone, the flames dimmed, and the gathering grew silent and still. They waited for the matron, so did I.
"My name is Inaka-Shaah," she said in deliberate yet clear Basic.
"I am called Mary," I said back to her in their tongue.
I expected to be laughed at for my pathetic attempt at their squawky, guttural vocalizing. But they only bowed and waited for Inaka-Shaah, paying little regard for me. She nodded and began to speak in her native tongue but with rudimentary pace and verbalism. Her hands swung this way and that, and her head bobbed to inflect where it was necessary. The smoke danced around her and gave physical form to her story.
I was swept away in a story she called the Rainmaker of Ahch-To.
'Mine is an ancient bloodline of Caretakers,' Inaka-Shaah intoned. 'Dates back to before even the Jedi. My foremothers were a different sort of Lanai. They were larger, stronger, but lived shorter lives. The Lanai changed as the lands changed, as the world changed, always to maintain balance.
'Ahch-To was not always a world of oceans. Ahch-To was once full of life and the Force flows through every living thing. In the time before the Jedi, this was a world of lush mountains and swampy valleys. Green was its color, not blue. The female Lanai made the first settlements here, in the green mountains, and cultivated the earth.'
"Before the Jedi?" I asked because I had never heard of such a calendar before, but stopped abruptly. All eyes were on me and they appeared shocked that I had a voice at all. I raised my hands in apology. Eventually, gradually, Inaka-Shaah continued.
'Balance is the key to life on Ahch-To,' said Inaka-Shaah. 'Before the Jedi, life was very different. We female Lanai lived in commune apart from our male counterparts. The male Lanai were much larger and stronger in every way. They were monstrous, brooding reptiles that hunched over on all fours like scaled gorillas. They were defined by their brutality, and their pride.
'Savage and insatiable, the male Lanai evolved separate from us. They grew confined by their great strength, forced to remain near plentiful water to survive. The males inhabited the lowlands and the valleys where the waters pooled through the dry seasons. It was only when the floods rolled in that the reavings would bring the tribes together.'
"Reavings?!" I shouted and nearly leapt to my feet. The Lanai nearest to me jumped up and pulled at my arms till I settled back into my seat. "I apologize," I said as I bowed to the matron, "I do not think I understand."
'The rains would roll through the valleys and low plains,' Inaka-Shaah continued, undeterred. 'For days and weeks and months, the skies would not relent. That was when the males would come, following the rising tides up into the mountains to invade the villages. The savages would pillage, rape and steal; we could not resist. Then they would move on to the next village and then the next. As many as they could, before the rains ceased and the weather turned dry and inhospitable.'
My clothes were starting to dry, but her words sent a shiver up my spine, nonetheless. I restrained myself and earned a few glances, but did not disrupt the holy woman's tale.
'But we endured,' said Inaka-Shaah, waving her hand like she was throwing aside a veil. 'The suns returned and scorch the ground. And the ogres would retreat to their low swamps. My ancestors were left to rebuild community and spirit. Each time they would build stronger and closer. We Lanai take great pride in the harsh beginnings our people endured.
But when spring grew long into summer, and the hearts grew lighter, the little ones would come. The infants were joyous and filled the days with gladness. From the tragedy came beauty, thus the balance of Ahch-To and Lanai was.'
"Before the Jedi," I intoned in her tongue. I was starting to understand, but only just.
'Yes,' Inaka-Shaah replied, with the hint of a smile and a sharp, knowing look. 'The Lanai believed there was no other way. That we females were meant for the reavings, just as the males were meant to be cast out of the villages as toddlers. Balance is never simple to attain. It requires sacrifice. We made our sacrifices, and they theirs. We knew nothing else.
'It was during this time,' she said, and puffed up like a roosting hen, 'that a matron divulged a prophecy to her sisters throughout the villages. She is unnamed by history, but she shall be known as "the ancient one" in this tale.
'The ancient one had had a vision! She beheld as the Rainmaker fell from the clouds and walked amongst the Lanai as one of them. But then the suns came and changed the world with fire and flood. The Lanai would burn and drown, and who remained would be forever changed.
'The eldwomen were concerned, while the rest remained skeptical. This was neither the first nor the last prophecy she had made.' Inaka-Shaah leaned forward and, somehow, the roaring fire appeared to dim in the pit. 'But they were wrong to doubt her.'
In unison, the gathered Lanai bobbed their heads up and down and mumbled. Then they started shaking as though it was practiced. I looked back at Inaka-Shaah and her eyes looked mournful. It surprised me, and nearly had me uncomfortable enough to start asking questions. Nearly, but I resisted the urge, thankfully.
'Sometime thereafter the Prime came," Inaka-Shaah said, and all became still. 'The first to come to our blessed world from the stars. He was tall, lean, fair, wise in equal measure with his inquisitiveness, and inherently good. You could forgive the ancient one for believing he was the answer to her vision.
'The ancient one wasted no time taking him in and showing him off to the rest of her sisters. Though skeptics questioned if luck was the same thing as providence, very few doubted that the Prime was special.
'And then the rains came,' Inaka-Shaah said, as a clap of thunder imposed upon the hut. I could feel the sweat beading beneath my bangs and peeling the skin from my palms. 'And with the rains came the reavings.
'This time the mountain villages had the Prime to defend them. He was powerful,' Inaka-Shaah raised her voice, 'and agile. So fierce and determined to foil the hordes plans. He even began preparing the females to defend themselves. The males went home defeated and wounded when the floods subsided and much celebration followed in the coming days.
'But the balance was shifted.'
"If only it were possible to observe the scales that weigh you," I replied.
'So our ancestors took in the Prime with open eyes and hearts,' she resumed. 'He learned much about the mystery of the Force from our foremothers. Some of the secrets that founded the great Jedi religion came from natural principles of life on ancient Ahch-To. No lesson was more important than when the first Caretakers taught the Prime how to seek answers from the Force himself. The powers of meditation-of the quieted mind-originated here, amongst our noble order.
'For years, the Lanai of the villages shared their knowledge and imbued the Prime with wondrous powers. He traveled across our world seeking more knowledge- ' she paused at this point and swept her gaze across the room, allowing her eyes to meet with each of her sisters in turn before coming to rest upon me. 'But when he found this island, he found our sacred tree as well.'
The Lanai began to weep; it was heartrending. I wanted to leap up and clutch them close to comfort them, but Inaka-Shaah merely tilted her head to freeze me where I sat.
'The Order of Caretakers was born on that day,' Inaka-Shaah continued. 'The first were sisters that promised to help him mine the great mysteries within the tree. But the Prime cut himself off from the Lanai society, save for requiring more and more Caretakers as time passed. Those that entered his service were removed from society, as well. They served him and his endlessly mysterious query with slavish devotion.
'Concern grew among some of the more skeptical eldwomen. The matrons came to the Prime and discovered his true plans, but far too late. The Prime transformed the sacred tree, the main conduit by which the Force flowed from the cosmos into Ahch-To, into a beacon.
'He used all of his power to send out a call, and they came to him,' Inaka-Shaah raised her hands high over her head and closed her eyes as though she were facing the sun. 'The stars fell from the heavens and when they landed another disciple of the Prime was born. He took them in, from every world and tongue, and taught them our secrets.
'Before long, the name Lanai became lost behind the name Caretaker. No longer were we an ordained sisterhood devoted to a righteous purpose. We were the servants to the ever-growing Church. The Prime built holy temples and amplifying structures all across the surface of our world. At the height of his power, he had hundreds of Force-attuned trainees serving his goal of unlocking every aspect of the cosmic mystery.'
"And then the rains came," I said, and a gasp overcame the room. They looked at me with a mix of shock and approval that instantly filled my cheeks with a flush of warmth. A cloaking device would have gone a long way. I still, even now, do not know how or why I guessed that.
'Indeed,' Inaka-Shaah nodded and smiled. 'The rains came and would not end. For months the torrents poured and the valleys overflowed like never before. The savage males came again, but they were different. They were savage and feral as ever, but organized and vengeful.
'The first attacks were cruel as they were violent. None of the Lanai or the disciples survived. Fear had overcome Ahch-To. The males were out of balance. They valued their pride more than their lives, more than their species, or their world. The Prime had changed the terms of the battle, so the result was no longer within his control.'
"What did the Jedi do?" I hazarded.
"Killed them all." She spoke in Basic so it was clear. My stomach lurched, and a dizzy spell took control for a moment.
'Many Jedi died,' she resumed her native tongue. 'So many Lanai, that we never recovered. The Prime and his disciples left us behind and followed their destiny into the stars. The Caretakers found purpose in their leaving: the holy places were the last hopes for their broken world. They would care for the conduits and trust that the Force would heal the land.
'The day the last Jedi left our world, the rains stopped and Ahch-To settled.' She raised an arm and swept it before her waist like she was spreading seeds in a field. 'The oceans took over, and never abated. The lowlands were gone forever and the suns lost their luster. The dry season would never come again, only rains, and slowly Ahch-To receded beneath the tides.'
"But how have you… lived more," I still was no master of their language. She nodded graciously in understanding.
'Balance,' Inaka-Shaah said, and the ladies around her all nodded their heads emphatically. 'The Prime was gone, but the Force was still with us. There were infants born of that fateful strife, and of those infants born, some were male. The surviving Lanai did something that had never been done in the thousands and thousands of generations that had come before them. They kept the males and raised them alongside their beloved daughters.
'They grew slight and inquisitive,' Inaka-Shaah offered. 'Just like their sisters, the males conformed, and the Lanai changed. Balance,' she intoned, the other Caretakers sang the word back to her together.
"Was the ancient one right?" I asked in Basic while they rose to leave. "Was the Prime the Rainmaker? Was he the chosen one that changed the world and your people's lives, or was he a plague…"
"We are stronger, sister," Inaka-Shaah said in Basic, with an air of resolution. Then she walked out of the hut with her young escort to hold her up.
I got back to the Converso and brought her into orbit, then began compiling my findings logs. I went back into the recordings and found the part that was most meaningful to my work. It was within my own wording: I called the Prime the "chosen one" and it went unchallenged.
My heart started pumping and my lungs rocked in and out like I was blowing up balloons. A klaxon blared as the ship's computer received a message and I suppressed the flashing light. My mind was racing and I could only barely grasp any of it as yet, so I could not afford to be distracted by loud noises, or flashing lights.
The Prime was neither plague nor prophet, but what if he was both? What if he, and the Force in general, was both horror and hero throughout the ages? Ahch-To was changed and the Lanai with them; the Prime did that, and his Jedi that followed him. How often was this the case, how many faces did this same story have? Which races would be spared, or would there even be a world untouched by this Galactic religion spawned in the Prime's image.
An image of duality and strife; that legacy is traceable for the first time, thanks to this Journal.
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