Atton opened his eyes. This meditation stuff is crap, he thought. He tried to calm the thoughts inside him, but every time he closed his eyes he thought of Aneela. He wanted to shout at his mental image of her, "Get out of my head!" She'd changed him too much—she'd made him cry. Atton Rand never cried.
He'd gone through a lot in his short years of life. He guessed he was about twenty-four or somewhere around there. He didn't feel thirty, and even if he was he would deny it. He blinked for a few seconds; he saw Aneela's face in his mind and instantly opened his eyes.
Atton stood and surveyed his bed in the port dormitory. It was made a bit messily, but suited him fine. He opened the drawer. His brain hurt as he thought over what happened. Atton had retreated to the dormitory because he was afraid of Aneela speaking to him about what happened between them—and that was something he didn't want to discuss at all.
He surveyed the contents: some rotten fruit he was throwing away (he'd gotten it on Nar Shadda after beating an old man at Pazaak; Atton planned to throw the fruit at Kreia but never got the chance), many Pazaak side decks, an empty Juma bottle (someone had drunk it all), some Pazaak magazines, and some clothes. He only had one set of robes—the ones he was wearing.
He picked up the ribbed jacket and black cottony pants and threw them on his bed. He studied them and remembered the hell he went through to get that jacket. He was on Nar Shadda years ago and was in the Pazaak den, back when humans were the majority in there, and when it wasn't closed off to just anybody. He'd finally beaten some girl named Kataya. He remembered her boyfriend, some scruffy-looking schutta who looked like he got beat up. The boyfriend had the best jacket—the ribbed jacket.
Atton remembered seeing the girl walking on some Nar Shadda street with her boyfriend. She was wearing his jacket because it was a little chilly out. He got a great plan in his head as he walked up to her. He started talking about Pazaak and such. Her boyfriend didn't like this, of course, so he told Atton to back off.
"What?" he remembered saying. "She likes scruffy-looking humans, don't ya?" He tried to do the best remember-when look he could and then put his arm round her. "What the hell are you doing!" the guy asked. Atton gave a simple shrug. He grasped the jacket shoulder and tore it off the girl's shoulders. "Pure Pazaak!" he shouted as he ran away. He was about nineteen and there was fun in doing something like this to him back then.
But that's over, he thought. Atton looked at himself—he was wearing Jedi robes and was commanding the Force. He remembered winning his first real Pazaak game when he was fifteen in the cantina on his home planet. He shouted out loud; he'd won about five hundred credits. He felt the feelings again and felt a bit of warmth inside of him.
Atton started to drift as he sat on his bed. He drifted off into a state of mind where memories seemed to be his reality…
"Alright, Rand, move over," a husky guy said. He took up about two of the seats next to Atton on the freighter. "Okay," Atton said. The husky guy, Stan, was probably the only person Atton had kind of buddied up with. He had a love for Pazaak and they usually played Republic Senate rules. They were on a freighter, the Fuselon, that was going from Telos to pick up fuel from Peragus II.
Atton had heard about Peragus II in his "travels". He'd heard about the mining stories and accidents, droids and superheated tunnels. He did know about the fuel and how cheap it was. That was all he needed to know.
"Pazaak?" Stan asked. "Nah," Atton said. "We're almost there." He looked out the small window. "What? You want to sit quietly?" Stan said as he put his hands behind his head and laid back a little. "Sure," Atton said, "if that suits you."
A few moments of silence passed. Atton was looking out the window, obviously thinking of what he'd do after he ditched the job as a freighter. He planned to go back to Nar Shadda and get lost as he called it. There was just something about Nar Shadda that drew him there—like metal a magnet, Atton always returned to Nar Shadda. It was like his home and he would carry it if he could. He recalled Stan telling him he was going to return to his family's moisture vaporizing farm on Tatooine. He said he was in the job for "the minimal credits and so his mother would get off his unemployed back".
Then man cried out in a squeaky voice, "Crew! Crew!" Great, Atton thought, it's Pejirk, the small self-proclaimed second manager who did a lot of butt kissing to remain hired. "We're within 2.5 kilometers of the landing point on Peragus II! Hand me all your blasters and long ranged weapons. Grenades may go in your lockers and your rooms will be locked," he said aloud, his voice so high he sounded like a man trying to imitate a woman. "My blaster?" Atton asked rhetorically. "I'm not giving it up. No way. This thing's saved my skin so many times…" "You will not need weapons on Peragus II," Pejirk continued. "Give them to Captain Helafeld. I repeat, give all your blasters to Captain Helafeld."
Atton stared at his blaster in the holster that was slung round his waist on his right, his pack was on his left, full of useful items like his side deck, a small penknife, and some other miscellaneous things. "Forget it," he said loudly. Pejirk, as if controlled by the Force itself, walked over to Atton and stuck out his hand. "Mr. Rand, Captain Helafeld says to give him your weapons. A stray blaster shot could explore an asteroid of Peragus! The asteroids are—" "—superheated gas rocks that could explode if hit," Atton chorused with Pejirk in almost perfect unison. "I know, I know. I've heard that too many times," Atton said. "Mostly from you."
Pejirk strode up to Captain Helafeld and told him of the stubbornness. "Great," Stan told him as Helafeld and Pejirk came up to them. "Now you've got Boss on ya." Helafeld was less nice that Pejirk—if you called it that at all. "Hey, Rand, gimme your blaster 'fore ya turn us all inta part 'o the new sun that'll happen if ya don't!" he barked at Atton.
Helafeld was an old man of about fifty or sixty, but looked older from behind: his hair was grey and falling off his head and his short character made it look like he shrunk. His mouth was always full of too much spit, and he always had curious things tagged to his captain's uniform like strange medals that were undistinguishable to any crewmember there. Atton guessed they were fake so he could gain respect; it didn't work.
Atton didn't say anything. He was deserting this place after Peragus II anyways so what's the difference? "Defiant, eh?" Helafeld shook his head. "Hey Perjk," he said, not turning round. "It's Pejirk," he corrected. "Whatever," Helafeld said. "Take this guy and make sure he doesn't get back on. I'm getting' a lil' sick of his insolence and incompetence to follow orders."
At this, Atton's eyes grew wide. "What the hell am I supposed to do on this backwater pla—wait is this stupid place even a planet!" he cried. "No," Helafeld said. "It's home." He grinned and strode off.
"Why are ya staying behind?" Stan asked. "Hmph, I guess Helafeld and his personal kath hound discovered I was the virbroblade thief," Atton said. He shrugged. "I don't know," he added. "What did he mean by 'incompetence to follow orders'? Don't you always do as they say?" Stan asked. "What? I'm going back to Nar Shadda soon like I told ya," he said. "That's why I usually avoid that old man and his little slave."
"I'll miss ya," Stan said. "You know…nobody likes Pazaak here. And even if they did, they'd only play with women Nar Shadda style anyways." He sat back against the chair. "Yeah," Atton responded, feeling like he had to. He nodded a bit, then looked out as they landed on Peragus II.
"Wake up!" some miner shouted at Atton in the mess hall. He'd fallen asleep again. Those dormitory beds were really uncomfortable. He'd been a janitorial figure at the mining colony on Peragus II for about two weeks.
"Uhhh," he said sleepily as he stared into his water and "soup". The miners were all wearing their blue uniforms and they made Atton stand out in his jacket and white shirt and black pants. They'd at least been gracious—if you could call it that—to give him a bed and a shower in one of the dormitories.
"Hey, Rand," a miner called. They didn't like him either. "Clean this up." Some miner had spilled his soupy food—again. He sighed as he got up and grabbed the pail underneath his chair. He kept it there because every meal he was scrubbing floors. He went on cleaning the floor as the miners talked. Before, they stared and snickered but that wore off. Now they just annoyed him and expressed indifference, which annoyed Atton more.
"…yeah, there's this strange ship that came in last week," a miner with blonde hair said. "Really? I heard there's mounds of credits on it," said another with dark hair. "Yeah," the blonde said. "But a Jedi was on it!" His military cut hair didn't sway as he looked down at his food. The group said things like "A Jedi?", "Aren't they all dead?", "Really?", and the like. "Meet me in the southern hallway by the spot where they found that dysfunctional droid." They nodded.
Atton knew what they were doing—he wasn't stupid. The Exchange posted a bounty on Jedi, what seemed, geological ages ago.
"Get back here!" a security guard called out at a dark haired miner. Ever since an "anonymous report" came in, the security team was after the blonde with the military cut, Coorta, and his little posse of morons. Atton was mopping floors in between the containment fields there were only used in emergency lockdown tests.
He began to start a new section of the floor when another security guard approached him. Atton didn't look up and he said, "He went that way." Atton pointed in the direction the Coorta Moron went in. "You Atton Rand?" he asked. "Who wants to know?" Atton asked, looking up. "Come 'ere, you," he said. The security guard, at first impression, seemed crotchety and like he didn't shower enough. "What?" Atton said. Why did they want him?
"Fine, fine," he said, setting down the mop. He got up and followed the security guard to the jail. "What the hell is this for!" he shouted.
"You're in possession of pornographic images," he said simply. "What are you babbling about?" Atton asked again. He held up some pictures of him posing next to a Twi'lek dancer he'd met on Tatooine from the freighter job. "They're conversation pieces," he said. "All the guys love 'em." The guard just stared.
"The head tails may look scary, but they're really not. They're actually really—" "Enough!" the guard bellowed. "Anyways, you can't have these. Miners aren't allowed to have any sort of literary material because it's highly flammable. It's really unsafe to have these. What if a blaster hit these?" "But there are no blasters allowed here!" Atton shouted. "Just get in the cell," the guard said. "Hey, innocent until proven guilty," Atton protested. "What if they were planted?" The security guard grabbed Atton's arm and pulled him into the containment field. "Rules are rules." "What kind of lame excuse is that!" Atton shouted as the guard left. "People only say that if they can't think of anything better or anything more legitimate to say to argue their point!" The guard brushed the response off as he closed the electricity around Atton.
There he was—alone. He sat on the floor and let out a sigh. "Solitary confinement seems a bit much," he said to himself. "Great now I'm going to go crazy. Hey, at least I can sue them for making me insane." He adjusted his seating and pulled out his decks from his pack slung round his waist.
Atton's eyes opened immediately at the sound of explosions and blaster fire. It continued with a few screams for about fifteen minutes. His stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't been fed. He stood up and called out, "Hey!" Atton tried to see if anyone was still alive. How could they hear him in here? "Emergency lockdown engaged." Great, he was trapped now—the force field was up outside the prison and he was trapped. He stood up for what seemed hours and paced in a very small circle in his cage to exercise his legs.
He did anything to divert his mind: played Pazaak in his head, hummed cantina songs, thinking of Nar Shadda.
Then the door shot open. Atton felt as though food was already in front of him. But security didn't appear. A woman in a strange brown pair of underwear and nerdy looking red shoes strode. He could help himself—he had been denied food, women, and real human contact. "Nice outfit—what, you miners change regulation uniforms while I've been in here?" He asked cynically.
"Hey, Atton," Mira asked. She was in the doorway. Atton almost jumped out of his skin when she spoke. He twitched violently. "You okay?" she asked as she took a step in the dormitory. "Yeah?" he asked. His memory had been interrupted. Of course it leads to her… he thought. "You know where Aneela is? She said something about meeting up with her somewhere," Mira said. "I kinda forgot where. And since you spend so much time with her I thought you might know."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Atton asked. "Well, you've kind of joined yourself to her," Mira said in that isn't-it-obvious tone she used too often. "Whatever," he said. He looked up at her. She was wearing Jedi robes too and her purple lightsaber was on her belt round her waist.
"Well…?" she asked with an expectant look on her face. "I don't know," Atton said. He stood up. "You're not going to look for are you?" she asked. "Of course not," Atton said in a bit of an angry tone. "If you don't mind, I'm going to the cantina." "Fine," she said. "Just if you see her, tell her that I'm waiting for her by the Hawk." Atton mumbled something. "Mmkay?" she said again to make sure he'd deliver the message. "Okay," Atton said.
"Why aren't you going?" she asked. Atton wasn't walking off the ship. "I'm putting on my old clothes first because these robes are really itchy," he lied. "Run out of Jedi pride?" Mira asked. He rolled his eyes. "Come on, Atton," Mira said. "She probably loves you in those robes, probably thinks they look sexy or something bizarre. Honestly, they take you a step up from your credit-grubbing, Pazaak addict look you had before." He looked at her, obviously insulted. "Well, your robes take you only a half a peg up from you faux-rebellious bounty hunter look you had going on," he said.
"What the hell does that mean!" she shouted. "See what I mean?" he said with the serenity of a Jedi. "You get upset over nothing. If you want to snag a guy, you've got to act nice." "And be a clone of Aneela?" Mira said. She took a breath. "I don't have time for this." She walked away leaving Atton triumphantly standing.
He looked at the clothes, and then at the robes he was wearing. Does she really like these on me? he thought. Shrugging, he tossed the ribbed jacket and pants back in the drawer and grabbed a few credits to go buy some Juma.