Civilization
Carth
The medic that treated me made up for in enthusiasm for what she lacked in gentleness. Only after I was ninety percent sure there was twice as much kolto in my bloodstream than actual blood did she pronounce me repaired and releaseable. I followed noises of grumpy dissatisfaction to find Jolee being fussed over by a cluster of medical aides. "Have you seen Revan?" I asked him.
"Not since we left the transport," he said. "Zaalbar and Juhani were patched up and let go right away. They took the droids to the droid maintenance bay. But these--twitterpates--" he gestured to the group of medics surrounding him, "--seem to think they can find a cure for old age. Hmph!"
I waited for him to shrug back into his Jedi robes and accompanied him out of the triage tent. Revan stood with Canderous and Mission and a few strangers of varying species. The Jedi Council was there, too, and I felt the sharp edge of anger. Hadn't they meddled enough? Weren't they finished with her, even now? It was bad enough they would take Dustil, I wouldn't let them take her.
I blinked, startled by the swiftness with which I jumped into the fury.
"Steady on, kid," Jolee murmured. "Living with your dark side takes some getting used to."
"What are you going on about, old man?" I said defensively.
He stopped and put a hand on my shoulder, stopping me with him. Revan glanced our way and her features softened. Jolee dragged my attention back to him. "Loosen up, kid," he said. "Look. Near as I can figure about what happened back there is that whatever haunts that temple found a part of you that you never faced. And because you never faced it, you didn't know how to control it. Now you've got two choices ahead of you--you can start learning to live with yourself, or you can stuff it back down in the cellar and let it feed on womp rats until it grows strong enough to break out of you." He sighed exasperatedly and snorted. "Between setting you, and Bastila, and Revan, and the whole damn Jedi Council straight, I'll never get the rest I so richly deserve."
"I don't recall asking for straightening," I said.
"But you need it. Think about what I said. Now go rescue your lady from that pompous windbag before Canderous cracks and does something we'll all regret."
I looked over to the Mandalorian. His face was a bleak thundercloud. I looked from him to Revan to Mission. Gods above and below, we all looked like regurgitated hell. Yet Revan smiled and bowed to the governor, and the barrel-chested man beamed down at her and was utterly charmed. That's her way. If we'd shown up in any civilized settlement, they'd have ordered us to have a hose-down in a starship hangar before letting us around civilized people, we were so filthy. Yet her personality is so strong that it doesn't matter if she looks like hell or not. She could be wearing woven bantha-fur, or the shavings off a dead Wookiee, and people would still act like she wore Coruscanti glittersilk.
My urge was to take her somewhere and hide from the galaxy--just lift her up right now and run to the Ebon Hawk, and blast off, then cut the engines when we were twelve parsecs from nowhere, and disconnect the comm. I walked up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. Running away with her wasn't an option. She belonged to the galaxy and it wouldn't be content to let her be.
But the smile she gave me was for me alone. Somehow, I swore silently, I'll find a way for us to be together.
The governor's entourage herded us into speeders and we drove through a large knot of onlookers to the edge of the settlement, where a low, squat building that looked cramped enough to make a family of Jawas think about open-air camping waited. The green undergrowth had been cleared out to bare dirt recently, but already the greenery showed signs of creeping back, over a series of low domes that sported transparisteel bubbles over their apexes, but still only stood about a meter from the ground.
"The citizens of the Yavin 4 settlement have seen some benefit in keeping the extensiveness of our home from casual orbital observers," Governor Bethra said, a meaningful glance in Canderous's direction as he and his Aqualish led us into the square entryway, which turned out to be a simple foyer that opened down into a wide grand staircase.
I was reminded uncomfortably of the Massassi temple in the canyon. But unlike the ruined temple, these stairs opened up into a large, low-ceilinged hall, sparsely furnished, but nonetheless obviously a receiving area.
Aides--real ones, this time, Twi'leks and Rodians and humans--descended on the governor at our arrival. Beside me, Mission hissed.
"What?" I whispered.
"That Devaronian," she murmured. "Before I followed Dustil, he was following me. Says he wants to interview me for holovids. Creeps me out."
I trusted her instincts. "And Z didn't put the fear of the Force into him?"
She shook her head. I frowned. The Devaronian's eyes were wandering around the room and lit on Mission even as we spoke. "I wonder if he might benefit from an audience with HK," I said.
The governor clapped his hands and said loudly, "In due time, everyone. I must see to my honored guests first. The comfort of the heroes of the Star Forge gets top priority!"
"I could've done without that," I said, in the sudden silence from the crowd.
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