STAR WARS: HAND OF PHRIKE

CHAPTER THREE: RUINS OF INDUSTRY

In hyperspace, 3653 BBY

Rhett had never liked being in hyperspace, for the most part. In the deep darkness of space, he could only feel the faintest of Force signatures, and trying to focus on one always ended up in him having a serious migraine. He sat back in his chair, trying to drown out the voices of countless beings as they passed planet after planet.

Kalm, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at home in the captain's seat. He turned to his Padawan and gave him a small smile. "Try to look alive there, Rhett; we're almost to Alderaan."

Rhett turned away. "I'm sorry, Master. I'm just a little ill, that's all."

The older Jedi laughed. "Ah, I forgot, you get motion sickness. Try to relax, then."

"It's not motion sickness, Master." Now he turned to face his Master. "It's the Force. I can feel it all around me… and to be completely honest, it's overwhelming me."

Kalm sighed. "So that's it…"

"How do you do it, Master? How can you be out here with no ills while I get sick as an akk dog?"

Cracking another smile, Kalm answered, "Simple: I do not try to block the Force out. A true Jedi lets the Force flow through him, not fight him. Just open your mind to its embrace, and your ills shall be cured."

Rhett frowned. "But wouldn't that be against the Code?"

The smile grew wider. "Do explain."

"I mean… what you are suggesting is giving in to emotion."

"I never said anything about emotion. One can open himself up to the Force without giving in to his passions. Remember: There is no emotion, only peace."

Noting his Padawan's confused expression, he added, "I've also found a spot of meditation helpful for gaining that peace. Maybe you should try it."

Rhett slumped in his chair. "I knew that was going to come up sooner or later."

Along the Hydian Way en route to Bonadan, 2 BBY

There is no emotion, there is peace…

Rhett tried to keep that in mind as he attempted to check the tempest of emotions swirling through his heart. Wise as he was, Master Kalm had most likely not experienced such a shock to the system.

He was right about one thing, though: meditation did help to quell the voices of the galaxy in his head. He sat, cross-legged, in the cargo bay of the Recluse, the thin atmosphere provided by the minimal life-support systems sharpening his focus.

Amongst the voices, he heard one that was extremely close. In fact, that voice was right at the door of the bay.

It was Viia. "Sorry, Master Ordan… but I figured you'd want some food. Then again, you are a Jedi, so…"

Rhett looked up from his meditation and smiled. "Well… I haven't eaten in nearly four thousand years, so you'd be right to assume that."

"Uh, right, I knew that." She placed the tray of prepackaged food at his feet, then sat down on the cold floor of the bay. "By the Core, how do you breathe in here? It's like trying to live on a karking asteroid!"

She noticed the sideways glance that the Padawan was giving her, then said, "Sorry, you probably have never heard anyone talk like that."

"Oh, I have. Just not someone of your age and appearance. Where'd you learn your language, from a Aqualish?"

"Ha, ha, very funny. Now answer the question."

Rhett sighed. "I was once taught by a very wise man that meditating in such conditions helps focus one's mind. I'll vouch for his wisdom from experience."

"Guess it's only something a Jedi would understand."

Now he laughed. "Yes, we Jedi are a strange lot. I wonder what sort of stories are told about us nowadays."

Now Rhett was getting a strange look from Viia. "I'm a little surprised by you, Rhett."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… I figured you'd be a lot more freaked out about being flung across time to an age where the Jedi are extinct…"

He smiled again. "Perhaps the Force guided me to this era to change that."

This got a sigh from the Mirialan girl. "Yeah, the Force… It seems to get around on this ship."

Rhett would've asked her what she meant, but at that moment the intercom buzzed. "Attention, crew and passengers. We are now approaching Bonadan Spaceport Southwest II. Those of you not used to Bonadan ought to wear a breath mask. The rest know the drill."

"Well, looks like we're here. Bonadan was a new society at your time, right? Bet it'll shock you to see how much it's changed."

Rhett frowned. "If what I remember of its people is still true, then I already know the direction of the change."

Indeed, Bonadan had changed from its colonization period four thousand years ago, and not necessarily for the best. As a result of the mass weapon and armor trafficking done in its early days, the natives of Bonadan had begun a strip-mining process that eventually left the world a barren husk of a planet. The only signs of life on an otherwise lifeless planet were the ten spaceports on the surface, along with the occasional six-legged tortoise on the outskirts. Pollution came with this focus on industry, leaving the world looking like it had a sheen of dust along the buildings.

That pollution came to represent the corruption of the ruling Imperials, who allowed smugglers to dock as long as they left their weapons on their ships.

"Alright, Viia," Grieg was saying. "I know it pains you to do it, but you've got to leave the blaster here. You know the rules."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. So we going to sell off the cargo or what?"

"We probably should at the earliest opportunity," Creesk piped in. "Otherwise we run the risk of being detected by the Imperials."

"Good thing I've got a buyer lined up, huh? I'll meet you at the cantina later. Rha'kl, make sure you watch Viia at all times. Creesk, go with them. I'll go meet the buyer."

"Pardon me, Captain," Rhett interjected, "but what would you have me do while this is all happening?"

"Normally I'd tell you to stay with the ship, but a kid with your talents won't be wasted by me. You go with the others."

"Very well. Haven't been in a cantina before, to be honest."

"Better get used to it."

The four of them settled into the cantina that Grieg had told them to go, and if it was any indicator to Rhett on how cantinas were, he never wanted to set foot in another one ever again. Even by cantina standards, the place was a dive; trash laid strewn across the floors, along with several of the lum-addled patrons. Two big guys, a human and a Rodian, were eyeing the newcomers with slightly less drunken gazes, namely the female of the group, Viia.

Rha'kl growled at the two, who only sniggered at him. The Rodian said something in Rodese, which got the human hooting with laughter.

"Your captain sure knows his cantinas," Rhett observed. "Couldn't have picked a better place myself."

"Oh, shut up." Viia turned to the bar and ordered a three glasses of lum.

"You're not going to drink all three, are you?"

"No… One is for me, one for Rha'kl…" The drinks came, and Viia grabbed one and offered it to him. "And one for you."

"Thanks, but no thanks. If you don't mind, I'll be watching from the corner, pretending I don't exist."

Viia would've laughed if she didn't think the Jedi had his reasons. "Sorry, Rhett."

"No worries. I'll get used to this eventually."

Turning back to her glass, Viia sensed Rha'kl lumber away with his drink. Then, she got the slightly uncomfortable feeling of two beings standing very close to her.

"Hey, babe," the drunken human said. "You lookin' to get a room? I've got one portside that we can use."

"Sorry, buster, I'm taken." She tried to ignore the guy, but he suddenly crept right up to her ear and whispered, "Benji don't take no for an answer, babe. How 'bout you and I go and—Hey! Who threw that?"

He whirled around at his Rodian buddy's finger-pointing, which indicated a slightly drunk Chadra-Fan minding his own business. "Hey, bat-boy! You've got a problem with me?"

The little alien's ears pricked up, and he quickly noticed that one of his mugs was missing. It had somehow, at least to him, flung itself across the cantina to hit Benji in the back of the head.

Before Benji could react, however, another mug flew out from behind the bar, nailing him square on his temple. From the ground came another, which hit the Rodian in the mouth. Then, again without any warning, the rags that Benji and the Rodian were standing on came out from under them, causing them to slip and bang their head against the edge of the bar.

Bruised and bloodied, the two hooligans fell to the ground, unconscious. Meanwhile, Rhett withdrew his hand into his pocket and whistled a small tune as his walked up to the bar and took a seat next to Viia.

"You're welcome," was all he had to say.