THE APPRENTICE

"So what's on Onderon?" Petro asked, leaning against the bulkhead of the pirate ship. He hoped his stance was casual enough to mask his apprehension. As far as spice went Onderon was a dry well and while Hondo didn't deal exclusively in spice, Petro didn't like the other things he dealt in.

Hondo Ohnaka was probably too drunk to notice but Petro didn't want to take the risk. "For a new business venture! Well, maybe not a new one. I delivered rockets to this planet during the Clone War." He took another swig from his cup. "Does that make this a new venture or old?"

Petro didn't answer. He knew what else was on the planet: a decently-sized Imperial presence which would be tickled pink to capture a young force-sensitive.

Hondo had kept talking: "Of course I would do anything for my Onderonian friends. So when I was asked to bring supplies for this pirate, I said 'how could my crew and I refuse?'"

"Your crew left you after the Zabrak ripped your base apart," he shouldn't antagonize the pirate but he'd had enough of the overly dramatic monologues. "There's not much left besides me and Melch."

This gave Hondo a moment of pause and he looked into his cup. "There would have been more if you'd brought her."

Petro glared. He'd spent the last five years trying to forget Katooni, the one who had contacted Hondo to come pick up her and Petro and the last one of his friends to die.

"And there'd be more if I could pay more." Hondo broke gaze with his cup and turned into Petro's glare. "It would help both of us, if you'd give me -."

"I don't have the crystal," Petro snapped. "I told you, Katooni and I sold it for food."

It was a lie and Hondo knew it. But it seemed today wasn't the day he followed through on his not-so-subtle threats. "Go make sure the supplies are in order. I don't want any reason for our Onderonian friends to try and withhold payment."

Petro gladly left the cockpit for the cargo hold. He didn't bother checking the supplies, instead mentally going over anything and everything he'd ever heard about Onderon. They had only one large city right? Hopefully it was big enough for somebody to disappear.

He had to leave this crew. Hondo was getting impatient about the lightsaber crystal and the bounty for a force-sensitive would more than recoup his losses. If Petro wanted to live he needed to get out, and fast.

He crouched next to a crate so it looked like he was working instead of plotting. Maybe he could steal some of this stuff to pay his way. He checked the label. Medical supplies? Not likely. Why couldn't he have pilfered some of Hondo's spice?

This would have to do. When they landed on Onderon he'd disappear into the city.

…

Petro's plan went to hell when they touched down on a force-forsaken hunk of rock in the middle of the ocean. Credits or no he wasn't going anywhere without a ship and how was he supposed to get one of those?

He couldn't even steal their contact's. It was an old-fashioned sailing ship and Petro had never seen one before, much less know anything about sailing one. It looked like a complicated affair from the men and women he'd seen on and around the ship, flanking the one-eyed man in the richly embroidered coat.

"My friend!" Hondo strode down the boarding ramp with arms wide open. "It is a pleasure to do business with you!"

Their contact didn't flinch. "It's a necessity, Ohnaka."

"Yes, but it is still profitable." Hondo clapped an arm around the man's shoulders. "And when it's profitable, it's pleasurable."

"Business only," the man snapped and shoved off Hondo's arm. "Now where's my delivery?"

"It's being unloaded," Hondo said dismissively and looked over his shoulder. "Petro! Bring the man his delivery!"

With a roll of his eyes Petro set off to go haul the crates from the spacecraft to the sailing ship. A normal person would be out of hearing range but with a little help from the force, he could catch onto the tail end of the conversation.

"So what are you going to do with these, Murphy? Reaving, raiding? You know, if you find anything particularly valuable -."

"I don't see why you need to know," Murphy ignored Hondo in favor of scrutinizing the delivery and Hondo's men. "You brought it, I'm paying for it, end of story."

If Petro hitched a ride with Murphy there was a good chance he wouldn't rat to Hondo. The question was if he'd rat to someone worse. He didn't know how to sail; he'd be deadweight on a sailing ship. Murphy wouldn't have any reason to keep him around when he could make half a million cred forking him over to the Empire.

"Ohnaka!" Murphy's voice snapped him out of his planning. "Tell your men if they don't keep their hands off my sailor it's the last time they have hands!"

"Keep off the women," Hondo's boredom was audible. "You'll be able to afford plenty when we reach the city."

...on second thought he could at least hide out on the ship until it docked and slip off into the harbor.

Petro hauled the last crate aboard and pried open the lid. He had to squash down the medical supplies, but the lid closed with him inside.

He stayed in his crate coffin long after he heard Hondo leave and felt the ship lift anchor. It could have been hours or even a day later he prised up the lid, stretched his stiff limbs…

And nearly fell flat on his face. No one ever told him sailing ships rocked and bobbed. He'd have to get used to it. Maybe seasickness was like space sickness, where you focused on a star to ease the symptoms. He just needed to find a star.

With a little assistance from the force he shinnied up the ladder and through the hatch as silently as he could until he found himself on deck. It was still day which shot the possibility of finding a star, so he stumbled over to a pile of ...something to conceal himself and set his eyes on the horizon.

It seemed to work and when his stomach settled Petro turned his attention to the crew. They were doing something with ropes and lines. Maybe if he watched them long enough he could pick some of it up.

"What the kriff?"

A hand grabbed the back of Petro's shirt and yanked him from his hiding place.

"Who are you?" Captain Murphy demanded. "And what are you doing on my ship?"

What was he supposed to say, I'm a force-sensitive on the run from the Empire? Petro didn't have time to think up a suitable answer so he blurted the first thing that came to mind: "I want to join your crew!"

Captain Murphy, and the others who had gathered after seeing the commotion, stared at him. "What?"

"I'm sick of working for Ohnaka," the plan began to take clearer form and he ran with it. "He's a terrible captain and he shorts us on our shares. Anywhere's better than with him."

"And what makes you think I'd let you join my crew? Can you even sail?" Murphy scoffed.

"I'll learn. I can work, and I can fight, I'll do whatever you want as long as I can join your crew."

What felt like an eternity later Murphy closed his eyes and sighed.

"I can't believe I'm doing this."

…

Cornel Blackwell loved the Harkon Hall shipwright's workshop. Here he could focus on his designs and the techniques Ephraim and the other masters were teaching him.

He laid out his tools on his worktable in orderly rows. Aye, it was nice and quiet here. Well, it was quiet until he started working. But the scrape and thump of his own tools didn't bother him like most loud noises did. These he could control, and he could feel the rhythm of their usefulness.

He was thankful for Momma and Dad sending him here for his apprenticeship. Of course he missed them and Arkon and Lana, but he had gotten to go home and spend salt and light with everyone.

Cornel had hoped that he might be able to come back to Harkon Hall after the holidays and spend the freeze working on new designs. That hadn't worked out but at least he got to be at the Hold when his nephew was born. Kayla and Emoth let him hold little Jak and show him the mobil he had built.

And then the Harkons brought him back to the Hall with them after they attended Kora and Cade's wedding at the Hold.

Cornel wondered if he would ever get married and have a family of his own. Not likely. What girl would ever give him the time of day?

Suddenly he heard a giggle and two flashes of bright red hair. From their hiding place, crouched behind the worktable situated next to his own, Maia and Fiona looked up at him with their mischievous green eyes. Maia pressed her finger to her lips to beg his silence.

Cornel liked the twins. They reminded him of his own little sister. He couldn't help but smile as he ducked down and whispered, "Who are you hiding from?"

"Pirates!" Fiona burst out with another giggle and was shushed happily by her twin.

"I thought you liked playing pirates?" He asked wondering if this was part of the game.

The girls looked at each other and then Maia explained, "Aye, but these are real pirates!" Her eyes shown with excitement.

"Maia wants to run away and join them like Sanya in the stories!" Fiona looked at her twin with awe.

Maia grinned. "Well, maybe, someday."

All three of them heard the sound of footsteps and voices coming in their direction.

Maia tugged on Cornel's work apron. "Don't tell them we're here!" she implored.

"I won't." He also pressed a finger to his lips and then stood up once again behind his worktable.

Cornel had a feeling that whoever it was probably wouldn't even notice that he was there. People rarely did. Maybe they thought that since he didn't talk much that he couldn't hear either. They did often speak as if he wasn't in the room, even if they did know.

The two men did indeed enter the workshop deep in their own conversation and only barely glanced in Cornel's direction when the little girls squealed, broke cover from their hiding place, and ran off to find another.

"... Only seventeen and already pregnant with her second," Ephraim picked up where he had left off in his conversation with his guest.

He must have been talking about Kayla. And then he confirmed the hypothesis, "We'll be heading down to the Hold in a couple of weeks for another visit. Talia wants to be there when Jak is baptized on the summer solstice."

Ephraim was watching the other man for a reaction to the news but the guest just took off his flamboyant coat and laid it aside on one other work tables.

"So they chose you and Tal as godparents?" The man asked. His face was turned away but Cornel still thought there was something familiar about the 'pirate'.

"No!" Ephraim chuckled. "Her twin Kora and Dalla's little brother Cade! I don't have tell you Hugo's kriffing fumed about that."

The corner of the man's mouth twitched. He started to say something stopped himself and then just blurted it out, "How is Dalla? Is that… Is he treating her right?"

"From what we've heard she and the babe are healthy," Ephraim assured him with a smile. "She's staying close to the Hold, not taking any chances, and from all accounts she and Lux are… happy."

The man's shoulders relaxed a little and he turned slightly so that Cornel could see more of his face as he nodded with relief.

Ephraim clapped him on the shoulder saying, "if you were still alive they might have made you godfather."

The man who had a patch over one eye shook his head with a laugh. "No, not me. I'm not religious enough for..."

Suddenly Cornel realized who this guy was! "I remember you! You came to the Hold on Dalla's fourteenth birthday!"

Cornel had run out of the Hold to chase a gull when he came upon the young man throwing pebbles at Dalla's bedroom window.

"Open the window Dal!" He shouted between throws. "I know you're in there!"

Cornel stopped and stared at him, the gull forgotten. Dalla was in her bedroom; she'd barely left it since she got home from the wreck at sea. Momma told Kason and Emoth it was because Dalla was very sad and because she was hurt. Cornel liked to be somewhere quiet when he was hurt too. Maybe Dalla was covering her ears to block the sound of the stones and the yelling.

The man noticed him then and stopped throwing stones. "She won't answer her comms."

Cornel stared.

"Don't you talk, kid?"

Cornel stared some more.

"That's kind of creepy, y'know."

"Cornel!" Before he could say something else Shara came around the corner and scooped him up. "Cornel, you need to wait for Momma. Thank you for finding him, Sloan."

"I didn't find him," Sloan shrugged. "I came to talk to Dalla. Wish her happy birthday and … well ma'am, I'm worried about her."

Shara nodded confirmation. "We're having a little party for Dalla in an hour or so. She didn't want to do anything so it won't be much, just cake and presents. Would you like to come? Maybe having you there would cheer her up."

"Consider me there, ma'am."

Looking back now Cornel wished he hadn't shown up. When he arrived at the party and said hello to Dalla Sloan was loud and boisterous, trying to brighten the mood. He told bad jokes and tried to sing Dalla's favorite sea shanty about the mollymauks, but she excused herself and didn't come back. That didn't discourage Sloan, who kept carrying on so the party would be fun when she returned.

Cornel covered his ears and left get away from the noise and after a while he turned a corner and found Dalla curled up against the wall crying.

He watched her silently, her hands folded over her just-starting-to-heal face, until she looked up to wipe her nose and saw him.

"If Aunt Shara sent you to get me, tell her to cut the cake without me." She sniffed. "It's not right to have a party without Mom. I just want to go to sleep. Maybe -."

"There you are!" Just then Sloan rounded the corner and found the both of them. "I was lookin' for you everywhere."

"You found us." Dalla tried to wipe her tears.

"I got you a present," Sloan sat beside her and pulled a vial of pink nail varnish from his pocket. "The whores helped me pick it out. Whaddya think?"

"Thanks." Dalla took the varnish and then tears welled in her eyes. "I don't know if it'll help though. No one's going to look at my hands."

"Hey, hey!" He wrapped an arm around her shoulder as if to impart some great wisdom. "Now a pirate may have stabbed out my eye, and a lifeboat may have smashed in your nose, but does that make us any less attractive to the opposite sex?"

"Aye," she said sullenly.

"No, it doesn't. It makes us better. You know I'm a bit of an expert in women, and I'd much rather spend my time with a woman who has a few scratches and dents than one of those airbrush holomodel types. They're better because they're real. The models are like trying to kiss a holo."

Dalla snorted with a laugh and Sloan went on, encouraged by her response. "So I don't have an eye, and you have a busted nose, and your cousin's brain is a little scrambled -."

"Sloan!" Shara rapped out in a voice far sharper than usual, having just arrived. "I think it's time for you to leave."

And he had. Sloan had run straight for the pub. Aye, he remembered that event as well. Well, he remembered his captain finally seeing fit to leave the Hold and waking him up the next morning with a bucket of water over his head. He had been so happy she'd been rousted out of her funk he almost didn't mind the rude awakening.

He had never set foot in the Hold again after that day however and he never could. He took ahold of Cornel's shoulder. "You can't tell anyone! Dalla can't find out I'm still alive!"

Ephraim looked back and forth between them. "You've met my apprentice?"

"Aye." Sloan released the young man and took a step back.

"He's loyal to house Harkon of course he won't say anything." Ephraim assured his friend, patting Cornel on the back. "Cornel here's turning out to be a wonderful shipwright with his natural talent and focus on his lessons."

Cornel nodded but didn't speak and Sloan grudgingly accepted the word of his friend.

"Aye, I hope things work out as well with my new recruit as well."