Author's Note:
Well, I've been gone awhile; but I'm back, now. Had a writing ethics crisis over the summer, so nothing's gotten worked on & Real Life's on full throttle. Does anyone want this updated?
× CHAPTER SEVEN x
Welcome to Alderaan. If you require assistance, the information booths are marked with large, pansy-colored flags. Enjoy your stay!
She stood staring at the sign for what seemed like hours. The customs officer would glance at the little girl every so often, but she still stayed where she was. She didn't even seem to move. The man sighed, and left his booth during a lull in his shift.
"Hey, kid, you all right?"
The girl's gaze turned on him, unwavering. Other than that, she didn't acknowledge his question.
The official tried again. "What are you standing here for?"
The child finally blinked, much to the man's relief. Her strong, brown eyes, however, were the only things that moved, taking in his features. A zephyr had displaced some of her bleached mid brown, waist-length hair, which gracefully framed her face. He noticed an unusual marking on her hair clip. He wanted to ask her about it, but thought better of it.
"Can I help you, kid?"
This seemed to arouse the girl. "Yes, actually. Who made that sign?" She motioned towards the sign which had kept her attention for the past several hours.
"Who made that sign?" The child nodded her assent. "I don't rightly know. Why do you ask?"
The girl's gaze skimmed the object once more as she replied, "I believe I recognize the handwriting."
"Really?" the officer was surprised. "Well, if that's the case, you'd be better off asking Lady Organa. She's the one who arranges such things." He noted that the juvenile brightened at his mention of the Lady. "I'm sure your parents could get a pass to visit the palace."
The girl's eyes dimmed. "I do not have parents," she said softly.
"Of course you do! Everyone has parents!"
"Family of any kind is left behind when a child is taken to the Temple." The girl's voice was flat, not revealing any emotion.
"You're a—a—" The man was startled. "Where's your Master?" he finally asked.
Her fixed gaze fell on him once more. "I have no Master."
"But Jedi children never leave the Temple unless they're a Padawan, and Padawans have Masters."
"I am not a Padawan." Her eyes narrowed, and he got the impression that she was scolding him. "I was expelled." The girl vanished, leaving a very confused customs official in her wake...
Yakrino Organa hated babies.
Oh, they were cute, sure, but they were so messy!
At least Vici didn't upchuck on him, as Ronnie had done. "Mana!" he complained. "She won't eat the yogurt!"
"Then give her the broth!"
"Didn't you say that was for when she was sick?"
"That would be why she isn't eating the yogurt!"
Personally, Yak thought his wife's answer didn't make much sense, but what did he know? He shrugged and fed his eight-month-old daughter the soup.
Mana entered the room, wearing a cyan swiss décolletage he'd gotten her for their anniversary. The flare sleeves ended on her mid-forearm; a style which, to Yak, made her appear younger. She wore it as a day dress, refusing to wear such a garment in public. 'Many women view me as a potential role model,' she had said. 'If I was to dress as a coquette, where would that direct them?' For someone without proper schooling, she sure had a vocabulary!
Mana gave Yak a little peck on the cheek. " 'Morning, darling." She turned to their daughter. "Hey, Vici darling!" Her voice took on a motherly tone. "Not feeling well today?" She placed her hand on Vici's forehead. "Ooo! That is hot!" She addressed her husband. "Guess we'll have to call the doctor—"
"Vroom!" Ronnie stormed in, a model ship in hand.
Mana deftly caught a rocking lamp, placing it back on the coffee table, while scolding, "Ronnie! You know not to run in the house!"
Without missing a beat, the five-year-old replied, "But this isn't a house; it's a palace!" Immediately, he was back to playing. "Oh, no! Hyperdrive's gone, Captain; what do we do?" He made his voice deep. "We parley, son." Now Ronnie sounded shrill, imitating a girl's timid voice: "But what will they do to us? I couldn't stand seeing you hurt, I just couldn't—" Ronnie broke off abruptly when his father grabbed the model from him, smacking him upside the head.
"Ronnie!" Yakrino Organa thundered.
Ronnie cowered, shielding his head. "I'm not afraid of you!" he weakly declared.
Yak motioned to Mana, and they quietly discussed the matter in voices too low for him to hear. After a few seconds, his parents turned away from each other; his mother preparing to take his baby sister somewhere, and his father regarded him coolly.
"Ronnie," he said slowly, "what did you do wrong?"
Ronnie shrugged, playing innocent. "I don't know, and you," he started sniffling, "you hit me!" He began crying.
Yak glanced at Mana, who made a face. He nodded his acknowledgement, then squatted to be on Ronnie's level, his voice soft. "Your mother can tell when people lie, you know."
Ronnie sobered immediately, staring his father in wide-eyed dismay. "You mean—" Yak slowly nodded. The five-year-old goggled at his mother. "She can't tell!" he averred. "If she could, she would've known when—" Ronnie clamped his mouth shut and refused to respond to any more of their questions.
As punishment, Ronnie was locked in his room and ordered to remain there for a week. Once the maid had been given the necessary instructions for giving the boy his meals, Yak took his daughter to the doctor, with plans to pick up his wife from the library afterwards...
Keil's day hadn't been lousy; it had been dreadful!
He sighed in frustration as another client walked out, dissatisfied. Once Lady Organa had helped Coral regain her memory, her outlook on life had made an abrupt turnaround. Coral had used to be fun, poking jokes and helping him on his old flying jobs. Nowadays, the only subject she expressed any interest in was her 'spring' or 'wind', whatever that was. She never made sense, anymore... Not that Jedi ever made much sense.
With Lady Organa's gentle prodding, he'd quit the smuggling business and was currently working for a smalltime parts dealer. The place was in complete disarray, without any attempt at neatness. Often, potential customers would take one look in the door and leave. Keil had told his boss they needed some sort of organization system, so they'd know what they had and where it was, but Niz wouldn't listen. 'If the people want somethin', they can find it!' Right, Niz.
Keil impatiently waited for the chrono to admit his shift was over. He had half a mind to quit this job—more than half a mind! The only thing that kept him from it was, well, Niz had known his parents... One got the idea. He was reluctant to quit because Niz had been an old family friend. Keil snorted. What am I, gettin' soft? He chortled. Probably.
It was time.
Keil whipped out of there, even more eager to leave than usual because of his immense disappointment. At least two dozen people had stepped in today...
He almost bowled over a little girl who'd just entered. "Oh! I'm sorry!" he apologized. Then he realized she'd count as a potential client. Inwardly, Keil cursed her for not coming sooner, before his shift was supposed to have ended. Probably sounding like a viper, he asked, "Can I help you?"
The little girl just stood there, observing him. The most unnerving thing about it was she didn't even blink!
Nerves taut, Keil suddenly clapped millimeters from the girl's nose. She didn't bat an eyelid, her bright, dark brown eyes the focal point on her otherwise fair-toned face. Her hair was a blanched brown.
He yelled, "Hey!" really loudly in her face. No response.
He sidled to the next aisle over and shoved the shelves. Components fell, but the child didn't so much as flinch, the parts missing her as if some sort of invisible barrier surrounded her.
Her eyes followed him the entire time, and Keil felt extremely awkward towards this little girl who was behaving more like a holo or a droid than a living being. Standing in front of her once more, he scratched his head, wondering how to get through to her.
It was then that she asked, mildly, "Am I done being a lab animal, yet?"
Keil chuckled slightly, a mild grin making it to his face despite his uneasiness. "I guess so!"
The girl displayed a momentary slim smile, then returning to her state of expressionless observation. "Good. It was beginning to get on my nerves." Interestingly, her voice didn't have the sour tone normally associated with that statement, but sounded as if she was commenting on the weather. Thus, it was impossible to tell if she was serious or not.
"Can I help you?" Keil asked again, still aware of the time, but no longer cursing her in his mind. He was too curious for that, now.
Her lips quirked, and she shook her head. She looked down momentarily, opening her mouth as if to say something; then shut it, thinking better of it.
"Well..." Keil guided her out of the store. "If you don't mind my askin'... what are you?"
"That is a good question." Her tone was sedate, but he thought she was being sarcastic.
"No, I'm serious! What are you?"
"And I am serious. That is a good question. It is one I have pondered for as long as I can remember."
"You don't know what you are?"
The child shook her head, her step faltering momently. Keil got a whiff of food cooking from a nearby restaurant. He eyed the girl, noting things he hadn't noticed before.
Her chemise and trousers were shabby; her feet bare. She wore a hand woven rope girdle. He also glimpsed a utility belt, which she had tucked under the fold of her tunic, as if to hide it. Her face was borderline rawboned, and overall, she seemed scrawny. Her unkempt waist-length hair, with wisps falling free from her hair clip, didn't help her appearance, either.
Realizing she hadn't eaten in a good while, he offered to buy her dinner. Something told him that asking about her parents wouldn't be the brightest idea...
She spent all her time in the garden, nowadays.
In the garden or babysitting.
Racara, now seventeen, sighed. She really did enjoy watching Ronnie and Vici, and it helped Mana and Yak. Mana had spent her whole life fostering children, anyhow; she deserved a break!
But every time Racara saw Ronnie or Vici, she was reminded, painfully, of what she'd never have: a family.
She knew that since they believed her dead, technically, she was no longer subject to the Order and its regulations. Still, she couldn't bring herself to neglect her upbringing, which demanded she be sedate and detached.
Recalling her crush on Keil when she'd been 'Coral', she smiled ruefully. At her age, most girls were eagerly getting and ditching boyfriends, hormones out of whack. Personally, her little fling for Keil had ended the night of that inauguration banquet, when she'd recognized Mana. It had scared Coral, knowing Lady Organa's name and such without having any memory of seeing her before; especially when no one else had known the Lady's given name!
Running her hands along her sides, Racara felt the long-forgotten pyramid-shaped box she'd received all those years ago. Six years, she thought sadly. And look where I am.
Her eyes began to get warm, but didn't get beyond that. She didn't let them. Jedi didn't cry.
She opened the box, and two purple Adegan crystals fell into her hand. She knew what they were for, now. Holding them up to the sunlight, she examined them closely for flaws, already envisioning the new lightsaber she'd build with them...
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