Chapter VIII - The Dragon
Despite his father's warning, Luke did not intend on leaving his homeworld until he had dealt with the attackers. He felt he would be doing the natives and settlers a great disservice if he left them now. This feeling had only been intensified by his visits to the refugee camps surrounding the city.
The next morning, he and his Padawans gathered at the city square to update each other on what they had learned from talking to the refugees.
/Is there no end to their brutality?/ Korie raged the moment Xna, who had come a longer distance than the others, joined the group. /There were four pregnant Tusken women in the Massif Tribe and they've been raped because, after all, even if they knew of our legal system they couldn't sue on a paternity claim./
"Are they all right?" asked Xna, appalled.
"Who could be all right after that?" Hekku replied. "They're recovering, if that's what you mean. The youngest of them is close to the end of her pregnancy, so medics are being kept nearby to assist as needed."
"Chyna and I arrived at the Jawa encampment by the podracing track just in time to chase off a couple of Rodians with mischief in mind," Gabriel reported. "Chyna saw that they both wore the Kruvex seal."
"Thank you, you two," Luke replied. "Xna?"
He gave a ripple of his body, the equivalent of a shrug. "Nothing unusssssual to report."
With a sigh he motioned them to follow him back to the cantina. "We need to find some sort of advantage we can obtain over the pirates. They're getting too crafty."
"What kind of advantage are you talking about?" asked Chyna.
"I'm not sure. Some sort of weapon, or even another, more experienced Jedi. Anything to drive off the pirates and capture or confront their leader."
"Your father?" suggested Gabriel.
"Not an option," Luke said quickly. "He has four years to go before he can leave Earth."
There was a stir by the cantina, and over the heads of the onlookers Luke could see Wor'arran waving from atop his bantha. The Jedi waded through the crowd to get to the Tusken.
"Jedi Luke!" he shouted, sliding down his mount's shaggy side. "You be back! I get worried!"
"What is it?" Luke asked, motioning for him to enter the cantina.
"News for you, news," he replied easily, strutting into the bar as if he were a frequent customer. He attracted plenty of stares but graciously ignored them.
"What'll it be, senor?" asked Ricardo. Being from Earth and so not quite adjusted to Tatooine's ways, he took Wor'arran's presence in stride.
"Water," he replied.
"You don't drink?" asked Gabriel, sniffing his Corellian grog as if it were a rare wine before sipping it.
"I do!" Wor'arran exclaimed. "All must drink to live, no?"
"He meant alcoholic beverages," Luke explained.
"You mean starmen's fire drinks? Sandpeople do not drink for two reasons. One, we do not make them. Do not know how. Two, they burn going down. We think fools drink only, no?"
At once Gabriel discreetly dumped his grog into the cup of a nearby, drunkenly oblivious Duros.
Ricardo set a glass of water in front of Wor'arran. "Would you like a straw?"
"Yes, please."
He stuck one in the Tusken's cup. "Buenos tardes, senor."
Wor'arran stared after the departing bartender. "What he say?"
"That's his native tongue for 'good afternoon, sir,'" Luke explained.
The Tusken snorted. "Starmen have too much languages." He wiped the beads of condensation off the sides of his cup and stuck his finger through a slit in his facial wrappings, savoring the drops. Water was a precious commodity on Tatooine, especially to the natives, who hadn't the mechanical means of extracting moisture from the air or ground. Once he'd dried off the outside of the glass he tucked the straw through the slit and savored the liquid.
Korie whuffed. "You had something to tell us?" her translator chirped.
"Yes, yes, yes," he babbled. "Chief Sha'kooha say Tusken scouts see starmen ships land in Dune Sea. Maybe pirates, no?"
"Do you have coordinates for the spot?" asked Chyna.
Wor'arran gave her a blank stare. The word "coordinates" meant absolutely nothing to a Tusken. "Ships land in west, where suns touch desert at night."
"Xna, find a comm and report this to the Bestine base," Luke ordered. Xna slithered off to comply.
"Is that all?" asked Luke.
Wor'arran looked around as if to make sure no one was listening (they were purposely oblivious, thinking that if Master Skywalker was crazy enough to talk to a Tusken, it was his own funeral), then leaned toward the Jedi. "I know one who may help Jedi fight pirates."
Luke froze, his ruby bliel halfway to his lips. Was this the break he was waiting for? They could use all the help they could get in keeping the attackers under control. Yet how did Wor'arran find such an ally? Did the Tuskens have connections to the Hutts? Or was there something Wor'arran wasn't telling the Jedi? And who was this "one who may help?"
"Go on," he encouraged.
"Do not tell Chief I tell you this," he hissed desperately. "Bad things happen to me. Is not something we tell starmen."
That increased Luke's suspicions. And yet he sensed no malice in their informant's thoughts.
"We won't tell," promised Hekku.
"Many thanks." He took another drink. "Help is called the Dragon. She lives in desert, many days journey -- you call place Jundland Wastes, eh?"
Gabriel laughed. "Someone called 'the Dragon' must be a dodgy character." Luke gave the Earth man a stern look to shut him up.
"The Dragon not be dodgy," Wor'arran protested. "She is... what word? Mysterious. Very wise, but stays far away from anyone. Some call her witch."
"A witch?" Luke repeated.
"Yes. Good witch. Come down from home to help our tribe three, four times maybe. Once chase off krayt dragon. Once help Chief's mate when she get snakebite and be ill. Very good, but many fear her. Have reason to. Starmen in white armor try to catch her once, and they drop dead like they be shot." He smacked the table for emphasis. "I saw. I know."
Luke was definitely intrigued now. "She sounds like a fellow Jedi."
"No, not be Jedi. Not have light sword. She be Tusken Raider. Live on Tatooine, never leave."
"But that doesn't make sense," protested Chyna. "How can she be a Force user and not be a Jedi?"
"Could she be a Sith?" Hekku hypothesized.
"More likely she's self-trained," Luke answered. "Sometimes a Force-sensitive being who wasn't discovered by the Order would learn himself to control his powers to a certain degree. Few of them had anything to do with the Jedi and called themselves wizards. The Dragon must be one."
Wor'arran nodded eagerly. "She lives far, in Madman's Crown. On foot it is eight days, but starmen's machines get there sooner, eh?"
"Why haven't the Sandpeople gone to her earlier?" Luke asked.
He cringed at the mention of going to her. "No Tusken go into Madman's Crown! Is circle of mountains, very steep. Dangerous to travel. And Dragon not like trespassers in her home. Will chase them out. If they not be chased, she kill them. But Jedi, maybe, can go into Crown and live, eh?"
Luke didn't particularly like the sound of this. If the Dragon was supposedly so helpful and benign, why would she kill intruders? And why hadn't she emerged earlier to help her people? Should they really risk the journey to Madman's Crown?
Tentatively he reached out with the Force, stretching his awareness, seeking this being's mind. Some distance away he found her, a pulsing glow in the blankness of the Wastes. She seemed to feel his probe and brushed his mind, probably to discern his intent. He slammed up a shield to prevent her from digging too far. What did she seek?
When she encountered his shield she drew back, wary. Along their connection she sent a single, inquisitive thought.
/Friend or foe?/ Those three simple words were infused with infinite caution and carried a tone that promised instant enmity if he proved to be the latter.
/A friend... I hope./
/Jedi?/ The tone was hopeful, yet at the same time the voice seemed to grieve. Was she indeed a survivor of the Purges?
/Yes. I am Jedi Master Luke Skywalker./
The wave of jubilation that flooded him nearly overwhelmed him. But just as suddenly she reined in her emotions, as if by exposing them she made herself vulnerable. In a way, she wasn't far off.
/I wait for you/ was her simple reply, and she broke the contact.
Luke shook his head, bewildered.
/Master, are you okay?/ asked Korie, her familiar touch a comfort.
"She..." Luke began, then revised the comment. "She sounds like an interesting character. We'll have to consider that option."
"Jedi not go seek her?" Wor'arran asked, puzzled.
"Like I said, we'll consider it."
Slightly crestfallen, Wor'arran finished his drink and stood. "Jedi should not fear. They have power, same as Dragon. Maybe she be friendly with you."
"And maybe not," Luke replied. But he couldn't ignore the feeling that he should meet this reclusive sorceress.
"I still think she sounds dodgy," Gabriel muttered, spinning his empty glass on the bar.
"We all know what you think," huffed Chyna.
The dun stone buildings of Mos Eisley and its surrounding panorama of dunes, plateaus, and hard-packed sand were stained red-gold in the fiery light of the rising double suns. Sitting atop an abandoned, rusted-out speeder, Luke watched as first one blindingly brilliant orb edged over the horizon, then another, staring down like a pair of glowing yellow eyes. Their glare burned away the night's lingering chill and began to warm the metal beneath Luke's thighs and buttocks to an uncomfortable temperature.
Luke was unaware of the discomfort. He had been outside all night, listening, meditating. He had felt his sister, far away and enjoying herself on Mon Calamari with Han. As she should be, Luke thought with a smile. Closer than that but still some distance away was his father and the Padawan learners on Earth, engrossed in their day-to-day living. Krad was out there somewhere, he sensed, but his presence was oddly diffuse. Luke figured he was cloaking his mind to prevent Luke from locating him. And from Tatooine's wastes, off in the east, the Dragon awaited him.
Should he go? His presence was required here. The pirate threat loomed as large as ever. But then again, the Dragon could be a powerful ally if he could convince her to join his cause. Yet if she refused, the journey would have been in vain. And there was always the possibility that Krad had already recruited her to his twisted cause.
/Anything's possible, but few things are probable./ Luke didn't know who had said that; he'd only spotted it on a bank's marquee while traveling through Denver six months back. But it applied here. It was entirely possible for the Dragon to be a Jedi, Sith, Mandalorian, or lawyer for all he knew. But most probably she was just a Force-strong Tusken who simply wished to be left alone.
He stood and rubbed his backside, then stretched to limber up his muscles. The decision was made. He would go into Madman's Crown and pay the Dragon a visit. If she chose to help them, well and good. If she refused, so be it. But either way, at least the knew what side she was on.
"Master?"
He turned to see Chyna watching him, her jet-black hair pulled back at the temples, a night robe over her shoulders.
"I'll need my travel kit, Chyna," he told her. "I'll be gone for several days. Tell the others when they wake up."
"I'm coming with you," she said firmly.
"No, Chyna," he replied. "I need you all to stay here. I'm confident in your skills and know you can take care of things here."
She pressed her lips together nervously. "And if you don't come back?"
"Send word to my sister and father. Leia will handle things on Tatooine in my stead, and Anakin can take over the order."
She nodded but still looked troubled. Luke had rescued Chyna from a horrid fate in Kessel's spice mines, and she had been the first student to join the Order. She was very close to him, and if he were to be killed on this journey, of all his students she would take his death the hardest.
"I'll get your pack," she said at last, her voice breaking.
"Thank you. I need to rent a vehicle. Meet me back here in ten minutes."
Despite his father's warning, Luke did not intend on leaving his homeworld until he had dealt with the attackers. He felt he would be doing the natives and settlers a great disservice if he left them now. This feeling had only been intensified by his visits to the refugee camps surrounding the city.
The next morning, he and his Padawans gathered at the city square to update each other on what they had learned from talking to the refugees.
/Is there no end to their brutality?/ Korie raged the moment Xna, who had come a longer distance than the others, joined the group. /There were four pregnant Tusken women in the Massif Tribe and they've been raped because, after all, even if they knew of our legal system they couldn't sue on a paternity claim./
"Are they all right?" asked Xna, appalled.
"Who could be all right after that?" Hekku replied. "They're recovering, if that's what you mean. The youngest of them is close to the end of her pregnancy, so medics are being kept nearby to assist as needed."
"Chyna and I arrived at the Jawa encampment by the podracing track just in time to chase off a couple of Rodians with mischief in mind," Gabriel reported. "Chyna saw that they both wore the Kruvex seal."
"Thank you, you two," Luke replied. "Xna?"
He gave a ripple of his body, the equivalent of a shrug. "Nothing unusssssual to report."
With a sigh he motioned them to follow him back to the cantina. "We need to find some sort of advantage we can obtain over the pirates. They're getting too crafty."
"What kind of advantage are you talking about?" asked Chyna.
"I'm not sure. Some sort of weapon, or even another, more experienced Jedi. Anything to drive off the pirates and capture or confront their leader."
"Your father?" suggested Gabriel.
"Not an option," Luke said quickly. "He has four years to go before he can leave Earth."
There was a stir by the cantina, and over the heads of the onlookers Luke could see Wor'arran waving from atop his bantha. The Jedi waded through the crowd to get to the Tusken.
"Jedi Luke!" he shouted, sliding down his mount's shaggy side. "You be back! I get worried!"
"What is it?" Luke asked, motioning for him to enter the cantina.
"News for you, news," he replied easily, strutting into the bar as if he were a frequent customer. He attracted plenty of stares but graciously ignored them.
"What'll it be, senor?" asked Ricardo. Being from Earth and so not quite adjusted to Tatooine's ways, he took Wor'arran's presence in stride.
"Water," he replied.
"You don't drink?" asked Gabriel, sniffing his Corellian grog as if it were a rare wine before sipping it.
"I do!" Wor'arran exclaimed. "All must drink to live, no?"
"He meant alcoholic beverages," Luke explained.
"You mean starmen's fire drinks? Sandpeople do not drink for two reasons. One, we do not make them. Do not know how. Two, they burn going down. We think fools drink only, no?"
At once Gabriel discreetly dumped his grog into the cup of a nearby, drunkenly oblivious Duros.
Ricardo set a glass of water in front of Wor'arran. "Would you like a straw?"
"Yes, please."
He stuck one in the Tusken's cup. "Buenos tardes, senor."
Wor'arran stared after the departing bartender. "What he say?"
"That's his native tongue for 'good afternoon, sir,'" Luke explained.
The Tusken snorted. "Starmen have too much languages." He wiped the beads of condensation off the sides of his cup and stuck his finger through a slit in his facial wrappings, savoring the drops. Water was a precious commodity on Tatooine, especially to the natives, who hadn't the mechanical means of extracting moisture from the air or ground. Once he'd dried off the outside of the glass he tucked the straw through the slit and savored the liquid.
Korie whuffed. "You had something to tell us?" her translator chirped.
"Yes, yes, yes," he babbled. "Chief Sha'kooha say Tusken scouts see starmen ships land in Dune Sea. Maybe pirates, no?"
"Do you have coordinates for the spot?" asked Chyna.
Wor'arran gave her a blank stare. The word "coordinates" meant absolutely nothing to a Tusken. "Ships land in west, where suns touch desert at night."
"Xna, find a comm and report this to the Bestine base," Luke ordered. Xna slithered off to comply.
"Is that all?" asked Luke.
Wor'arran looked around as if to make sure no one was listening (they were purposely oblivious, thinking that if Master Skywalker was crazy enough to talk to a Tusken, it was his own funeral), then leaned toward the Jedi. "I know one who may help Jedi fight pirates."
Luke froze, his ruby bliel halfway to his lips. Was this the break he was waiting for? They could use all the help they could get in keeping the attackers under control. Yet how did Wor'arran find such an ally? Did the Tuskens have connections to the Hutts? Or was there something Wor'arran wasn't telling the Jedi? And who was this "one who may help?"
"Go on," he encouraged.
"Do not tell Chief I tell you this," he hissed desperately. "Bad things happen to me. Is not something we tell starmen."
That increased Luke's suspicions. And yet he sensed no malice in their informant's thoughts.
"We won't tell," promised Hekku.
"Many thanks." He took another drink. "Help is called the Dragon. She lives in desert, many days journey -- you call place Jundland Wastes, eh?"
Gabriel laughed. "Someone called 'the Dragon' must be a dodgy character." Luke gave the Earth man a stern look to shut him up.
"The Dragon not be dodgy," Wor'arran protested. "She is... what word? Mysterious. Very wise, but stays far away from anyone. Some call her witch."
"A witch?" Luke repeated.
"Yes. Good witch. Come down from home to help our tribe three, four times maybe. Once chase off krayt dragon. Once help Chief's mate when she get snakebite and be ill. Very good, but many fear her. Have reason to. Starmen in white armor try to catch her once, and they drop dead like they be shot." He smacked the table for emphasis. "I saw. I know."
Luke was definitely intrigued now. "She sounds like a fellow Jedi."
"No, not be Jedi. Not have light sword. She be Tusken Raider. Live on Tatooine, never leave."
"But that doesn't make sense," protested Chyna. "How can she be a Force user and not be a Jedi?"
"Could she be a Sith?" Hekku hypothesized.
"More likely she's self-trained," Luke answered. "Sometimes a Force-sensitive being who wasn't discovered by the Order would learn himself to control his powers to a certain degree. Few of them had anything to do with the Jedi and called themselves wizards. The Dragon must be one."
Wor'arran nodded eagerly. "She lives far, in Madman's Crown. On foot it is eight days, but starmen's machines get there sooner, eh?"
"Why haven't the Sandpeople gone to her earlier?" Luke asked.
He cringed at the mention of going to her. "No Tusken go into Madman's Crown! Is circle of mountains, very steep. Dangerous to travel. And Dragon not like trespassers in her home. Will chase them out. If they not be chased, she kill them. But Jedi, maybe, can go into Crown and live, eh?"
Luke didn't particularly like the sound of this. If the Dragon was supposedly so helpful and benign, why would she kill intruders? And why hadn't she emerged earlier to help her people? Should they really risk the journey to Madman's Crown?
Tentatively he reached out with the Force, stretching his awareness, seeking this being's mind. Some distance away he found her, a pulsing glow in the blankness of the Wastes. She seemed to feel his probe and brushed his mind, probably to discern his intent. He slammed up a shield to prevent her from digging too far. What did she seek?
When she encountered his shield she drew back, wary. Along their connection she sent a single, inquisitive thought.
/Friend or foe?/ Those three simple words were infused with infinite caution and carried a tone that promised instant enmity if he proved to be the latter.
/A friend... I hope./
/Jedi?/ The tone was hopeful, yet at the same time the voice seemed to grieve. Was she indeed a survivor of the Purges?
/Yes. I am Jedi Master Luke Skywalker./
The wave of jubilation that flooded him nearly overwhelmed him. But just as suddenly she reined in her emotions, as if by exposing them she made herself vulnerable. In a way, she wasn't far off.
/I wait for you/ was her simple reply, and she broke the contact.
Luke shook his head, bewildered.
/Master, are you okay?/ asked Korie, her familiar touch a comfort.
"She..." Luke began, then revised the comment. "She sounds like an interesting character. We'll have to consider that option."
"Jedi not go seek her?" Wor'arran asked, puzzled.
"Like I said, we'll consider it."
Slightly crestfallen, Wor'arran finished his drink and stood. "Jedi should not fear. They have power, same as Dragon. Maybe she be friendly with you."
"And maybe not," Luke replied. But he couldn't ignore the feeling that he should meet this reclusive sorceress.
"I still think she sounds dodgy," Gabriel muttered, spinning his empty glass on the bar.
"We all know what you think," huffed Chyna.
The dun stone buildings of Mos Eisley and its surrounding panorama of dunes, plateaus, and hard-packed sand were stained red-gold in the fiery light of the rising double suns. Sitting atop an abandoned, rusted-out speeder, Luke watched as first one blindingly brilliant orb edged over the horizon, then another, staring down like a pair of glowing yellow eyes. Their glare burned away the night's lingering chill and began to warm the metal beneath Luke's thighs and buttocks to an uncomfortable temperature.
Luke was unaware of the discomfort. He had been outside all night, listening, meditating. He had felt his sister, far away and enjoying herself on Mon Calamari with Han. As she should be, Luke thought with a smile. Closer than that but still some distance away was his father and the Padawan learners on Earth, engrossed in their day-to-day living. Krad was out there somewhere, he sensed, but his presence was oddly diffuse. Luke figured he was cloaking his mind to prevent Luke from locating him. And from Tatooine's wastes, off in the east, the Dragon awaited him.
Should he go? His presence was required here. The pirate threat loomed as large as ever. But then again, the Dragon could be a powerful ally if he could convince her to join his cause. Yet if she refused, the journey would have been in vain. And there was always the possibility that Krad had already recruited her to his twisted cause.
/Anything's possible, but few things are probable./ Luke didn't know who had said that; he'd only spotted it on a bank's marquee while traveling through Denver six months back. But it applied here. It was entirely possible for the Dragon to be a Jedi, Sith, Mandalorian, or lawyer for all he knew. But most probably she was just a Force-strong Tusken who simply wished to be left alone.
He stood and rubbed his backside, then stretched to limber up his muscles. The decision was made. He would go into Madman's Crown and pay the Dragon a visit. If she chose to help them, well and good. If she refused, so be it. But either way, at least the knew what side she was on.
"Master?"
He turned to see Chyna watching him, her jet-black hair pulled back at the temples, a night robe over her shoulders.
"I'll need my travel kit, Chyna," he told her. "I'll be gone for several days. Tell the others when they wake up."
"I'm coming with you," she said firmly.
"No, Chyna," he replied. "I need you all to stay here. I'm confident in your skills and know you can take care of things here."
She pressed her lips together nervously. "And if you don't come back?"
"Send word to my sister and father. Leia will handle things on Tatooine in my stead, and Anakin can take over the order."
She nodded but still looked troubled. Luke had rescued Chyna from a horrid fate in Kessel's spice mines, and she had been the first student to join the Order. She was very close to him, and if he were to be killed on this journey, of all his students she would take his death the hardest.
"I'll get your pack," she said at last, her voice breaking.
"Thank you. I need to rent a vehicle. Meet me back here in ten minutes."