Obligatory AN!
This is in respons to Trillian4210 forum challenge, set forth by Son Kenshin
"How about a KOTOR II fanfic on how Atton came to Peragus II and ended up in the Force Cage?"
This sort of started out as a joke, and as I worked on it longer, it became more... well just more. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think.
"You cheating sack of schutta!" The orange Twi'lek abruptly stood across from Atton Rand.
"Oh, come on sweetheart, don't be so sore. You are in grand company of beings who have lost to me in Pazaak. Don't go away mad, at least until you pay up," Atton flashed his charming grin to her.
She slammed her credits down in front of him. She suddenly became aware of how many eyes flashed her way. Her orange complexion became a dark red. It wasn't abnormal for people to lose to pazaak player Atton Rand, and the other cantina regulars became used to the hot tempers of his opponents. The cantina activity returned to normal.
Atton gathered up his winnings, sorting it briefly, noting how his hands quivered slightly. It had been three days since his last cigarra. He had chosen to chew on toothpicks to aid in the nervous withdrawal symptoms. He looked down at his stack of obliterated toothpicks; it's got to get better sooner or later, he thought.
He rested his head back on his hands looking up to the ceiling leaning back in the chair, keeping balance by hooking his boot onto the table. He had beaten just about every contender that came through Nar Shadda. The locals knew to avoid him.
I've been here too long, he thought. It's a great place to be lost in. Pazaak was a simple living, and it broke up the boredom. He felt the undeniable urge that he needed to go somewhere and do something, but he simply lacked the motivation. He wasn't sure why he gave up the cigarras, especially when he could really use one right then.
"Are you going to day dream all day, or are you going to play?" a gruff voice asked.
Atton turned his head to the voice eyeing the elderly man carefully, "I find that I can day dream and play at the same time. But if you are in a hurry to lose your money, I'm not in a position to deny you of that right." He leaned forward.
"I heard you weren't bad," the old man offered.
"Don't always believe what you hear," Atton grinned.
"Judging by the look and language of the Twi'lek that left here, it seems like you could use some help in the making friends department."
Atton snorted, "I've about had my fill of 'friends' old man. Anyway, should I call you 'Old Man' or do you have a name?"
"Old Man works for me," he shrugged.
Atton rolled his eyes, "all right, you can call me Atton."
"Atton?" he looked Atton over, "you don't look like an Atton."
"Take it up with my parents," Atton muttered. "Are you playing or not?"
"Sure, sure, fine," the old man placated him.
Atton shuffled the deck several times and they played on in silence. Atton won every single match easily.
"Are you sure this is your game, Old Man?"
"You're never too old to learn, lad," he said seriously. He caught Atton's eye. "Another game?"
Atton chewed on his toothpick thoughtfully, "sure, but no credits this time. I feel bad taking your money."
"Absolutely, not."
"C'mon Old Man, you remind me of my dad."
"If only you knew how many times I've heard that line."
Atton sighed, "Well, if you wanna keep losing your money, I'm not going to stop you."
They played several games. The old man won a match here and there, but Atton was the clear victor in each game.
"I think I'm done for the night," Atton yawned. "Here let me buy you a drink. You have been the best loser I've been up against."
The old man chuckled, "I'll welcome the drink, but maybe some other night." He stood and stretched. "Take care, Atton." He tilted his head towards Atton and left the cantina.
"Strange bastard," Atton muttered. He gathered up his jacket and left.
"You have returned," Atton announced when the old man walked into the Pazaak playing area.
"It would seem so," the old man responded.
"We'll be finished shortly," he motioned to his opponent who growled at him.
The old man chuckled, "take your time, I'm not in any hurry."
The night continued on like the previous night. When Atton had polished off his opponent, the old man took his seat across from him and they played. They started off in silence, playing pazaak until it almost was a rhythmic habit. The cantina was calm that night. Nothing too exciting happened in Nar Shadda unless it involved gang wars and the like. It seemed since the Jedi bounty had been announced, that each party had decided to give the citizens a break.
"Looks like you've been practicing," Atton broke the silence.
"Not really, just learning from my mistakes."
"Your 'mistakes' seem to be a bit costly, don't you think?"
"Perhaps. But it will work out in the long run. At least, that has been my experience. What about you?"
"Mistakes get you killed, Old Man. Caution is the key."
"Nobody can be that cautious. Unless you have eyes in the back of your head."
"Nope, no eyes in the back of my head. I guess experience and intuition," Atton stared at the cards.
"They can't keep you safe all the time."
"Well, when that day comes, when I fail to see the threat, I hope I at least have a chance to shoot back," Atton made a gun out of his hand to illustrate his point.
"Is that all you have to look forward to, son?"
"That and crazy old men who lose their money to me," he scoffed.
"I guess you aren't the type to take a leap of faith?"
"Faith in what? The Force?" Atton snorted.
"Perhaps the Force… but maybe just in others."
"People all have their own angle, their own agenda, if my agenda happens to coincide with the goal of another, maybe, just maybe, I could trust them for that period of time. But as soon as the agenda is met, all bets are off. You are lucky they don't stab you in the back so they can use your seat for something else."
"Speaking from experience?"
"Eh, somewhat. Mostly just from others."
"Interesting character, these gamblers."
"Not just gamblers, Old Man."
"Oh, I figured. I doubt that you are here on Nar Shadda because this is what you dreamed you would be when you were a little boy," he offered carefully.
Atton chuckled as he won another match, "no, this wasn't the way I saw myself when I was child. But then, when I was child, I hoped to grow up to be a Wookie."
The old man laughed, "Those Wookies are a noble race."
"Yes, but mostly, they are huge. They aren't easily intimidated," Atton replied.
"I doubt that even in childhood you were easily intimidated, Rand."
"Ah, well, I wanted to fly. I became a pilot, fought in a battle or two," Atton rattled off, a little surprised at how freely he gave this information.
"Mandelorian Wars or that Jedi war?" the old man asked.
"Yep," Atton nodded.
"War does things to people. It tests your limits, puts you in situations that you should never have to be in. Makes people do things they aren't proud of."
Atton didn't respond. They continued playing like before. When it became late, the old man stood and stretched. He dropped credits on the table, "Good game."
Atton looked at the money on the table, "if you say so."
"I'll be back," the Old Man turned away.
"Oh, I will be waiting with baited breath," Atton jeered.
The old man chuckled on his way out.
Atton picked up the credits, examining them thoughtfully. He finally shook his head and pocketed the money.
The next few nights, the old man didn't show. Atton couldn't believe that he was actually looking for him. People come and go often in this side of the galaxy.
Atton suddenly didn't really care to play that night and decided to go back to what served to be his home for the time being.
On his way out of the cantina, he almost literally ran into an incoming patron.
"Sorry," he muttered but then he recognized the Old man. "You!" he pointed his forefinger at the man.
"Yep, me," the man replied.
Atton paused internally debating going back into the cantina or going with his previous plan.
The old man smiled, "I realize you are leaving, but actually I was wondering if you could help me. I need a pilot."
"A pilot?" Atton raised his eyebrows.
"Yes, lad, a pilot. I need someone to fly a cargo freighter, but it's a bit tricky."
"Where to?" Atton asked his curiosity piqued.
"Peragus."
"The mining asteroid? In other words, the hostile, volatile, and overly paranoid staff Pergaus?" Atton did very little to hide his annoyance.
"The one in the same."
"The same one where if you nudge a rock you could blow up the whole facility?"
"I doubt it's that sensitive. Have you been there?"
"Sort of, more of a drop off. I learned a thing or two. I learned enough that I didn't want to be stuck there any length of time. They must be paying you a fortune for transporting, whatever you are transporting."
"Close. You interested?"
Atton sighed, "No."
The Old Man raised an eyebrow suspiciously, "Why not?"
Atton closed his eyes and shook his head, "My flying days are over, Old Man. But if you want someone else, you can ask around the Cantina, there are about 3 or 4 pilots that come in on a regular basis," Atton turned to walk away.
The old man grabbed his arm, "Son."
"You don't want me to fly your ship," Atton shook off his hand and walked away.
"I'll play you for it," the old man offered.
"What?" his face frowned in confusion. He turned around.
"Pazaak. It's a gamble. I have the credits. One thousand credits if you win, you pilot my freighter if I win."
Atton frowned in confusion, "Are you crazy? For a thousand credits you can hire a really… decent pilot. At least one that can read simple coordinates."
"I see something in you, lad. Something in you that craves greatness. It craves a purpose."
Atton snorted, "lay off the spice."
"Atton," the man said sternly.
"You've got the wrong pilot," he answered bitterly.
"It's a game. One thousand if you win, but if I win…" he started.
Atton considered him thoughtfully.
"Come on, it's an evening of your time. Consider the possibilities. Or do you want to stay on this dung heap of a moon for the rest of your life."
"The dung heap theme fits well with me," Atton reared back.
"Are you afraid to lose to an old man like me?" he thumped himself on his chest. "What are you scared of?"
"Not losing to you, that's for sure," Atton resolved.
"After you," the man stood to the side.
Atton sighed, "Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"
Atton surveyed the controls of the cockpit. Nothing was too outrageous on this ship. He preferred the arrangement of the one-manned fighter. He didn't have to reach too far for any controls.
"Is she ready?" The old man asked.
"Just about," Atton answered.
"Sore about last night?"
"Not really. Do you normally hustle people like that?" Atton asked.
"I didn't hustle you, and you know it."
"I have beaten you in every game up until last night, where you wiped the floors with me," Atton grumbled.
"No, Atton, I played the same as usual. You let me win."
Atton snorted, "Are you kidding me?"
"I could almost feel your soul crying out for a more meaningful destiny. You may have not been conscious of the fact, but you let me win."
"I don't think I buy any of that crap," Atton buckled himself onto the pilot's seat with the final ignition sequences.
"You think too much," the old man strapped into the co-pilot's seat.
"That was probably the first time I've ever been accused of that," Atton replied. He focused on the controls and flew the ship out of the atmosphere into space.
"Nice," the old man appreciated.
"You are amused too easily," Atton replied.
"Are you going to be this ornery the whole way to Peragus?"
"I've been cracking wise since birth, old man."
The old man chuckled. "Very well then." He then brought out a bottle of a beverage that Atton knew only way too well. "Want a drink?"
"Why the hell not?" Atton grunted.
The old man procured many a drink while in flight. Atton wasn't sure how much he was drinking, but the beverage was soothing. The drink came from a reputable vineyard and it was created with care. Atton was used to the substandard piss they served at the cantina on Nar Shadda.
"Tell me your story, Atton," the old man encouraged.
"Don't have much to tell. After the war I sought to get lost in Nar Shadda like the other soldiers."
"I served my time back in the day."
"And now you run cargo?"
"I take what job I can get here and there. It's a modest living. A little more modest than I like," he sipped his drink thoughtfully.
"Ah." Atton replied, not quite believing the old man. The drink took the will to fight and argue away from him. But then, it's not like I'm telling the truth. "Does that come with the retirement plan?"
"Worried about my future?" the man asked.
"Nah, just curious," he answered.
"My future has happened. People get too wrapped up in time."
"Uh… I don't think I can wrap my head around that."
"It's the alcohol," his eyes twinkled. "We are almost upon the asteroid field around Peragus."
"Asteroids?" Atton sat up straight at attention. "Why isn't the navicomputer downloading the Asteroid Drift Charts?"
"I don't know, son. Can you do it manually?"
"Are you crazy?" Atton took hold of the steering mechanism and looked around him.
"Use your instincts," the man offered gravely.
"Are you a Jedi?"
"No," the man answered.
"Damn," Atton steered abruptly through the field. "If I hit one of those things, the ship is gone, Peragus is gone… What a time for the navicomputer to go down."
"You can do it," the old man said softly.
Atton focused and dodged asteroids, had some near misses, but he finally was able to drift into the space station space docking port and land gracefully.
He leaned back into his seat, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and passed out.
Atton regained consciousness in a med bay. He sat up suddenly and felt a sharp pain radiate through his head. He looked around and saw the bay was empty, with the exception of a med droid. His awakening set off an alarm. He tried to rise up out of the bed but was stunned by the med droid.
"Please lay down," the droid commanded.
Atton complied. A human medic came in followed by one of the officers. The lead security officer was seething with anger, and Atton was afraid it was towards him.
"Are you chewing spice or just nuts?" the man grabbed Atton by the collar of his shirt.
"Sir, please put the patient down," the med tech asked.
"What are you talking about?"
"You flew through those asteroids without the Asteroid Drift Charts, fast and DRUNK!"
"Oh, but there was the old man… the co-pilot."
"Old man? What are you talking about?"
Atton frowned looking from the security officer to the med tech. "There was another man that flew with me, he was strapped into the co-pilot's seat."
"There was nobody else on board," the med tech said.
"I assure you, there was someone else!"
"Great, hallucinations and drunk. What the hell where you thinking flying under the influence of alcohol and drugs?"
"I didn't touch any spice. Besides, I landed safely."
"A junkie takes a joy ride to a mining colony… of HIGHLY VOLATILE FUEL where if you make a simple slip up, the whole STATION is DESTROYED… and all you give me is that you," the officer's voice changed to imitate Atton's, sarcastically, "Besides, I landed safely."
"Look, I was doing a cargo run for the old man," Atton began.
"We didn't order any droid parts."
"Droid parts?"
"That was all that was on the ship. Well, that, and several empty bottles."
"Several? Impressive," he muttered.
"That's it. Get him in the Force Cage, now. I don't care if he's able to stand on his own two feet," the officer roared.
"I landed safely!" Atton argued.
"We can't have joyriding pilots who think they can get away with anything, get away with the nonsense you pulled! I never witnessed anything so stupid!" The security guard stormed out of the room.
The med tech gave Atton a hypospray injection in his neck, "this should help."
"There really wasn't an old man on board, or anything?" Atton's eyebrows rose.
"No, sir, I'm sorry."
"Was I hallucinating? I don't understand," Atton asked desperately. "The last thing I need is time in the military prisons."
"Give the security guys some time, I'm sure you can work something out." She put her hand on his shoulder and said softly, "They are masking it with their anger, but when you get to the heart of the matter, they were truly impressed with your piloting skills," she smiled at him.
"Damn," Atton grumbled when the security officers left him in the force cage. He gingerly touched the field, but pulled his hand back reflexively. "Ouch."
"Watch it, those chemical burns are hard to bounce back from," a familiar voice spoke.
Atton searched the room desperately, "Old Man."
"I'm here, Atton," the man appeared in front of him.
"What the hell is going on here?"
"I told you your soul is crying out for greatness. You have a destiny to fulfill, and it starts here." The man said.
"Who are you?" Atton asked angrily.
"Jaq," he started.
"Dad? DAD? How the f.." Atton started.
"Hello, Son. I haven't much longer."
"But you were, and I … holy schutta this is really pissing me off."
His father chuckled, "I knew it would."
"Why did you leave when they searched the ship? Why am I stuck here? At least on Nar Shadda I was free."
"Were you really, son? Your mind was your cell. You kept yourself under lock and key."
"It was working for me," Atton's temper still flaring, "I was in control."
"It pained me to see you drifting day to day, awaiting, in fact wishing for death to come for you."
Atton's expression softened. "I guess that's one way to look at that."
"Still, I enjoyed my time with you, son. Not many people get second chances. I had mine, now here is yours. In a couple of days it will become clearer. You will meet someone and your paths are intertwined for a while. You can either go along with it, use your companion to help you become great, or you can help your companion be greater, following the light, saving the galaxy."
"That's a bit dramatic," Atton grumbled.
"It's up to you," he said with a smile. "But know this, son, I know what you have done. I know what you could do. Know that I will always be proud of you."
"Did it have to involve a force cage?"
"I love you, Jaq." His father smiled and turned. He walked away slowly vanishing.