A/N: I know – I can't believe I got around to writing another chapter either. For years, I've been too wrapped up in a) family, b) work, c) writing about Eeth and Raven, together with my co-writer, on the swficwriters profile. But… here we are! I hope I can give you the occasional subsequent instalment, but no promises – real life has to come first, alas.
Lok was walking at Eeth's side, calm, self-assured and dignified. True, they were here incognito, checking out the weapons trade in Coruscant's Lower Ancillo sector, but that did not mean he could not comport himself like a true Jedi! Besides, this had the welcome side effect that it was an excellent way of hiding his growing apprehension. He was under no illusion that Eeth was impressed with his behaviour in the weapons shop they had just left. But of course, Eeth was hiding his displeasure just as well as Lok was hiding his anxiety. Lok nearly had to chuckle as this thought occurred to him.
"What good actors we are," he said.
Eeth glanced at him, understanding his meaning immediately. "Do you mean to compliment me for not turning you over my knee right then and there?" he asked in a low voice. "I have to admit the idea was tempting."
"Fortunately for me, you are far too disciplined to give in to temptation," said Lok in an equally low voice.
"I will make up for it once we are back at the Temple," Eeth said tersely. "Your behaviour was completely unacceptable, and I am sure you are quite aware of that fact. But we are not finished here. The next shop is Mooyay's. Come."
It was late afternoon by the time they left the public shuttle and made their way to the Temple gates. There had been no opportunity to address Eeth's displeasure with Lok's actions in the weapons shop, nor had he been in a hurry to create one. Instead, he had been on his best behaviour all afternoon, hoping against hope that this would blow over. Knowing Eeth, he did not like his chances, but it was his best bet.
"I can make us dinner," he said hopefully as they entered their quarters.
"No need," said Eeth. "We have enough leftovers. And you know perfectly well that I want to talk to you. Pull off your boots, wash your hands and sit down."
Lok pulled a face but complied. He sat at the dining table and Eeth took a seat opposite him.
"Look, master," Lok said before Eeth had a chance of saying anything, "this guy was vile. He was drunk and speciesist, and he was insulting you."
"I know that he was insulting me," said Eeth coolly. "He called me Zabrak scum, after all. And yet, you did not find me taking petty revenge at him."
"And he called you a tattooed bastard," Lok pointed out.
Eeth treated him to a scrutinizing look. "He called me many things, and some were much worse than that," he said. "Why would it be this one that stuck out to you?"
Lok lowered his gaze. He was well able to answer this question, but it was not a subject that he was keen to talk about. On the other hand, he did know an opportunity to distract his master from the original topic of conversation when he saw it, and he eventually decided to seize it.
"Everybody keeps asking me about my tattoos," he said. "Or lack thereof. Apparently, if I don't take them this year, it will be too late for them to look plausible."
"When you say 'everybody,' that does obviously not include me," remarked Eeth. "Because as far as I am aware of, I have completely refrained from harassing you about the issue."
It was true, Lok realized. Eeth had never pressured him about this, not once. He suddenly felt a rush of gratitude for having a master who, while strict, never meddled.
"Yes, and I'm grateful for that, master," he said solemnly. "But I think I am at a point where I need some help with making up my mind." And if that help distracted Eeth from addressing today's incident in the weapons shop for a while longer, he felt that this was an added bonus!
Eeth, however, did him no such favours. He merely said, "I will be happy to advise you. But not now. Right now, I want to hear you tell me what you did that was wrong, and why it was wrong."
Lok sighed. "Come on, master," he said. "Do we really have to do this?"
"Yes," said Eeth, stony-faced. "We do. I am waiting."
Lok sighed again. "Alright, so the salesman insulted you, and that upset me," he said. "So when we left, I used the Force to make him stumble across a pot of paint that a contractor had put there and he toppled it over and, well, I learned a couple of interesting new swear words from his reaction."
"This valuable learning experience notwithstanding," said Eeth frostily, "why were you wrong to do this?"
"Because the Jedi do not seek revenge," said Lok unenthusiastically.
"And why not?" asked Eeth relentlessly.
"Because it leads to the Dark Side, apparently," said Lok, "although it was pretty amusing. Even you have to admit – wait! OUCH!"
Eeth had risen out of his seat and pulled him up by the ear in less than two seconds.
"Lose the attitude," he snapped. "Nothing about this was amusing and I am going to make that very clear to you in a moment. But first, I want to know why you did something that was entirely against your training. You have been taught from junior crèche that the Jedi do not try to get their own back. We serve justice, not our selfish impulses. Why did you do it, then?"
"But master, here's the thing," Lok brought out between clenched teeth because Eeth's iron grip on his ear hurt quite a bit. "It wasn't about myself. He wasn't insulting me, he was insulting you. And I didn't want to let him get away with it."
Eeth let go of his ear and Lok's hand immediately shot up to rub it. "I see," said Eeth quietly. "If he had insulted you, you would have been able to walk away, but it was me you were trying to protect."
"Precisely," said Lok, relieved that his master seemed to understand.
Eeth was silent for a moment. Then he said, "We are very much alike in that respect. As a teenager, I would have been far more likely to get in trouble over wanting to protect or defend my master than over standing in for myself. However, I had to learn that both impulses can be equally misplaced. In your case, your little prank today served no purpose at all. The salesman will learn nothing from it, nor will it undo any of his insults. It was nothing but petty revenge, even if you did it on my behalf."
Lok found that there was little he could say to that. The fact that Eeth had shown some understanding had taken the wind out of his sails.
"You're right, master," he said, lowering his eyes. "It just felt satisfying. I shouldn't have done it. Sorry."
"Your apology is accepted," said Eeth. "You are still going to be punished because, commendable as your loyalty to me is, it is an impulse I cannot allow you to follow blindly."
He rose. "Bring me the large paddle," he ordered. Lok flinched. He hated that paddle. He suspected that Eeth had obtained it specifically for him because, according to Raven, the paddle that had been designated "the large paddle" at her time was now only the second largest one. He knew that he had a higher tolerance of pain than humans and apparently Eeth had decided to make his punishments accordingly harsher. Lok was less than appreciative. But he also knew that there was no point in arguing. And so, despite his considerable apprehension, he did as he had been told.
Eeth did not disappoint. By the time he was through with Lok, the boy was a sobbing mess. Eeth gave him no more than few seconds to regain his composure. Then he pulled him up, handed him a handkerchief and said brusquely, "Meditate. I will tell you when your time is up."
Lok's bottom was throbbing and, as usual in such situations, it was hard for him to focus. But when he finally managed, he was surprised to realise that he did not feel resentment towards his master. He also came to think that there were issues underlying his behaviour that he needed to address. He might have done so a while ago already, had it not been for Jerad's death and the big changes in Lok's life. By now, he had gained a certain level of acceptance of his situation, though. And as he knelt there, trying to ignore the pain in his bottom and focus on what had been behind his anger at the shop owner, he realized, more clearly than ever before, that he needed to move on and stop hiding behind the loss he had suffered.
When Eeth called the meditation to a halt a while later, he rose stiffly and turned to face his master, looking at him solemnly. Eeth returned his look, apparently recognizing the unspoken need behind it.
"Lie on the couch," he said. "I will provide some healing to your bottom. While I do so, tell me what is on your mind."
Lok was more than happy to obey, on both counts. He was silent for a long while, though, because he was unsure how to start. And Eeth did not push him. He merely applied a thin layer of bacta to his bottom, gently and carefully, while letting a steady stream of healing energy flow into Lok's skin.
Finally, Lok broke the silence. "Master, why did you get your tattoos?" he asked.
If Eeth was surprised that this question was, once again, about the tattoos, he did not let it on.
"I was twelve, I think, and considered it a way to connect to my Zabrak roots," he said. "Maybe more importantly, I reasoned that it would make me stand out less during missions, especially undercover missions."
"Hmm," said Lok, unconvinced. "But not all Zabrak have tattoos. There's any number of reasons why you wouldn't have gone through the rites of passage. And what Zabrak roots? I don't know how to put this without sounding offensive, but are the slums of Nar Shaddaa really steeped in Zabrak culture?"
Eeth frowned. However, he apparently realized that Lok was not asking this to antagonise him; he was really struggling to come to terms with this issue.
"No," he said. "As I said, I was twelve, and I probably had delusions. I might have had a desire to make things more clear-cut than they actually were. Or …" He paused for a moment, his hands stilling. Finally, he admitted with a sigh, "I simply might have wanted to show off my ability to endure the rites of passage. And I think my master looked through me. But she indulged me. And the tattoos have worked for me. I have never felt uncomfortable wearing them. They have become a part of me. I assume you are wondering whether the same would be true for you?"
"Yes," said Lok, relieved that Eeth seemed to understand. "And I think my problem is that I know nothing about these supposed roots of mine. Unlike you, I have no memories. Since I have no idea what past the tattoos would connect me to, the whole thing feels fake to me. I know we talked about looking into my family history during our last mission. Can we do so now? Please?"
Eeth wordlessly wiped his hands clean, calm and unhurried. Then he stood up, went into his room and returned with a data chip. Lok propped himself up on his elbows and turned to give him a quizzical look.
"I have requested the information from the archives right after our return," said Eeth. "I was just wondering if the question would come up again."
Lok rolled his eyes. "You could have just told me," he said, lifting up his hips and gingerly pulling up his pants. "It's not as if I suddenly lost interest. There was just always so much else to do."
"Precisely," said Eeth. "Now would you like to know?"
Lok nodded. He stood up and held out his hand. Eeth gave him the data chip. Lok debated for a moment whether to go to his room or do it in the common room. He settled on the latter. He wanted to have Eeth with him. Unfortunately, though, and despite ample evidence to the contrary, Eeth could not read minds.
"Would you prefer me to withdraw to my room?" he asked.
"No," said Lok, surprised by the urgency in his tone. "Please stay," he added more politely.
Eeth nodded and took a seat at the dining table, giving Lok time and space to read the file and digest what it said. That did not take long because it was a very short file, written in a dry, matter-of-fact style, without providing details. After having gone through it twice, Lok thought to look for the author, who was identified as a Jedi called Kat Omir.
"Do you know Kat Omir?" he asked Eeth.
"Yes," said Eeth. "She was knighted shortly after I became a member of the High Council. Was she the Jedi who retrieved you?"
"Yes, and her report is more useless than a fridge on Hoth," said Lok. "Basically, I'm the adopted son of Iktotchi parents who lived on the Outer Rim colony of Iroqa. They were algae farmers. I have two older siblings and a younger one, and I was retrieved at the age of sixteen months because my Force presence stood out to Kat Omir. And that's it! What kind of report is this? I mean… Iktotchi parents adopted me and that's all she knew to write on this? As if Zabrak children grow up in Iktotchi families all the time? What am I supposed to make of that?"
"It does sound strange, yes," said Eeth, frowning in thought. "Zabrak parents do not usually give up their children. Even if they die, the children are taken in by other members of the clan. And since Iroqa is an Iridonian colony, it has a large Zabrak population. I have no idea what might be behind this either. Let me see if Kat Omir is currently at the Temple."
They swapped seats and Eeth logged into the Council database, calling up Kat Omir's status.
"You are in luck," he said. "She took on a padawan half a year ago, and since that padawan has not gained mission eligibility yet, they are both at the Temple. I will send her a message and ask for an appointment." Without waiting for Lok to reply, he opened a connection and did just that.
"Thank you," said Lok, relieved that his master was accepting his need to get to the bottom of this without asking questions. "Are you sure you don't know more? Anything beyond what the file says?"
"I am afraid not," said Eeth. "The Council usually has no time to concern itself with the detailed backstory of each child that is brought to the Temple, unless there is anything out of the ordinary that requires a decision, as was the case with me. We will see whether Master Omir can tell us more."
He rose from the chair. "Let us make dinner together," he said gently. Lok nodded. He needed something to do.
They had barely finished eating dinner when Eeth received a message from Kat Omir.
"That's the good thing about being apprenticed to Eeth Koth," said Lok with a crooked grin. "Nobody will dare to make you wait too long for their reply. What does she say?"
"She says we can come tonight if we are free," said Eeth. "Or on any other evening except tomorrow."
Lok drew a deep breath. "Let's go right now," he said.
Eeth raised his eyebrows. "We will go after we have cleared the table and washed the dishes," he said.
Lok had to laugh. "That's so like you," he said. "Alright, let's clear the table, wash the dishes and then go." And once again, he was surprised to notice that he did not feel the slightest trace of resentment at saying this. On the contrary; his master's peculiar brand of meticulousness elicited nothing but affection. The affection was still tinged with grief over the loss of a master whom he had loved, too, and he did not think the grief would ever go away entirely. But it was not making him resentful towards Eeth any longer. At least for now. Lok thought that definitely counted as progress.
"So you are Lok Dar," said Kat Omir, looking Lok up and down before stepping aside and beckoning him in. "I knew that mission was going to come back and haunt me one day. It's not something I'm proud of." She beckoned towards a thick carpet with a few cushions scattered across it. "Please sit," she said.
Lok pulled off his boots and sat cross-legged on the carpet, and Eeth followed suit. Kat sat opposite them. She was a dark-skinned Zabrak woman in her mid- to late thirties, tall and thin, and she kept herself ramrod-straight. A bit like a male Eeth, thought Lok and had to suppress a chuckle at the thought. He didn't quite know how to start, though, and threw Eeth a beseeching look.
"My padawan was wondering whether you can tell him more about the circumstances in which you found him," said Eeth calmly. "Your report was very brief."
Kat sighed. "Yes," she said. "For good reason. Like I said, I'm not proud of it. So. I think to make you understand the background of this story, I have to say that this was the very first mission I was assigned after I was knighted. It was a scouting mission. I was good at scouting but I'm afraid to say I also resented it."
Scouting missions were routinely conducted in the more densely populated sectors of the galaxy to identify Force-sensitive infants. The likelihood that they would show signs of Force-sensitivity at an early age which would be recognized as such by their caretakers and reported to the Temple was simply too low, as was the chance that a Jedi would accidentally come across them during a mission. While both things happened on a regular basis, relying on them alone would leave too many talented children undiscovered. Therefore, whenever the Temple had a field knight to spare, and especially when that knight was well-attuned to the Living Force, they were sent on scouting missions where their task was to visit a large number of planets and see whether the Force guided them to any unusually strong Force presence. Quite a few children were brought to the Temple every year as a result of such missions.
"I did my duty, of course," said Kat. "And since I have always had a knack for sensing Force patterns and following their threads, I was well suited for this type of mission. It was just not what I had been hoping to do right after having been knighted. I travelled from planet to planet, going through the list I had been given, half-hoping that the Temple would call me back for some more interesting or critical assignment, but it didn't happen. Nor did I find anything. By the time I arrived on Iroqa, which was the second last planet on the list, I was more than fed up. At this point, I didn't know what would be worse: Returning to the Temple empty-handed or finding a baby I would have to care for. Mind you, I'm completely aware that my attitude towards this mission was appalling. I was aware of it even back then, and I did make an effort to to improve my mindset. But it was hard and my mood worsened as the mission progressed. Well, anyway, I had barely landed on Iroqa and started my usual meditation routine when your Force presence struck me like a hammer. It was really strong, and my first thought was that some other Jedi might be in the system, but then I realised that this did not feel like a person who had had any kind of training. So I went where the Force led me, away from the cities where the Iridonian Zabrak settler communities were concentrated and towards a thinly populated region at the seashore where more recent settlers from a mix of species were making a living as fisherpeople or algae farmers. I found you with an Iktotchi family. They lived in a modest home but they were not exactly poor, and they seemed quite happy and loving. They had a couple of older children and a newborn, all of them Iktotchi. And there was you. And now comes the part I'm ashamed of. I asked how come they had a Zabrak child, and they said they adopted you as a newborn. And then … I didn't ask any further."
There was a moment's silence. Kat was looking straight at Lok, but it was clear that it required an effort from her.
"And they were happy to just give me away to the Temple?" Lok finally asked in a strained voice.
"No," said Kat. "They didn't want to give you away at all. It was clear that they considered you their child, and being allowed to take you with me required a lot of convincing. It might not have worked if I had shown up half a year earlier, but by this stage, you had already exhibited signs of unusual abilities that they didn't know how to deal with. Still, it was hard on them. They shed a lot of tears. I'm afraid to say I found this rather aggravating at the time. I was really quite immature. In any case, I can confidently say that you were well loved."
There was another long silence as Lok digested this. Then Eeth asked, "Have they requested to be updated about the boy's development?" The Temple agreed to this this when a child's birth parents asked for it, provided they lived in a place where hyperspace communications could reach them.
"Yes," said Kat, "but I don't know if it was done and if they ever reacted to these communications. You'll have to look that up in the archives."
She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I can't tell you how sorry I am, Padawan Lok Dar. I've started feeling ashamed of myself even on the way back to the Temple. But of course at that point, it was too late to change anything about my actions. So, after I had delivered you to the creche masters, I tried hard to forget about the whole affair. But I wasn't very successful. I've always suspected you'd want to know the truth at some point. All I can say is sorry. If… if, by any chance, you want to go to Iroqi and find out more than I did fourteen years ago, I'm willing to help."
"You are probably aware that this would be up to me and the Council to decide," said Eeth.
"Obviously," said Kat. "Still, my offer stands."
Eeth nodded. "We will see if the archives tell us anything more, and discuss how to proceed from there," he said, rising from the carpet. "Thank you, Master Omir."
Lok rose as well. "Thank you," he mumbled, giving her a perfunctory bow.
As soon as they were in the corridor, he turned on Eeth.
"How could they send someone on a scouting mission who hated doing this?" he demanded to know. "How could you? You were already on the Council at the time. Wasn't it obvious that this was what would happen? That she would make a half-assed effort at best?"
"Padawan, these decisions are not made by the full Council," said Eeth calmly and reasonably. "They are made by a secretary and signed off by individual Council members who happen to be in charge. We often send new knights on such seemingly unimportant mission because it helps to get them off their high horse and show them that they will not spend their entire career saving the galaxy from evil. They did this with me. I was asked to retrieve someone's junior padawan after a war had broken out on the planet where they were conducting their mission."
"And did you spend the entire mission resenting your assignment and trying to do as bad a job of it as you possibly could?" asked Lok hotly.
"No, and neither did Master Omir," said Eeth with a hint of sternness to his tone. "That mission helped me gain a lot of maturity. The Council probably hoped this would be similar with her. I agree that her unwillingness to find out further details about your past was less than ideal. She apologised for this, however, and the apology was clearly sincere. Being angry with her or the Council will not accomplish anything at this point."
"Well, if ranting about her makes me feel better about not knowing anything about my real parents thanks to her, that's at least something," spat Lok, kicking at the wall.
Eeth grabbed his braid and brought him up short, which elicited a yelp from Lok. "Enough," Eeth said sharply. "You know there are more constructive ways of dealing with negative emotions. And you also know I am willing to help you manage those emotions if you need me to. Stop your temper tantrum right this instant."
There was a moment's pause in which only Lok's ragged breath could be heard. Then he exhaled deeply and sagged a little. "Can you really blame me for being angry?" he asked in a small voice.
Eeth released his hold on Lok's braid. "No, but I will be blaming you if you continue managing your emotions so poorly," he said as the boy's hand shot up to rub the base of his braid, which was smarting. "Kicking the walls will not bring you any closer to learning what you want to know. Moreover, do not be so fast to dismiss your adoptive parents as 'not your real parents.' If they took you in as a newborn, they are your parents for all intents and purposes."
Lok opened his mouth to utter a retort, but Eeth raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks before he could start on another rant. "I know that many adoptive children want to learn who their biological parents are, regardless of how loving their adoptive parents are," he said. "I am also aware that you are grappling with your Zabrak heritage and the role it should or should not play in your life. I am willing to support you in order to find out more. I suggest we go home and you take some time to meditate. While you do, I will search the archives for any communication the Temple might have had with your adoptive parents. After that, we will discuss how to proceed."
Lok nodded slowly. Eeth's calm response, stern and supportive at the same time, had once again taken the wind out of his sails. He suddenly felt unspeakably thankful that his master was always there to lean on.
"Yes, master," he said softly. "Sorry for my outburst. I will try to get my feelings under control. Thank you for your help."
"You are very welcome, padawan," said Eeth gently.
