Part Three: Changes
It took another year for Kargir Janson to 'drink himself to his grave' as Falren had put it. In those 12 months Falren and Wes had learnt some basic self-defence from Deirean, and some weapons practice as well, as both Deirean and Falren wanted to join the Rebellion. As such, they had been left rather put out when Wes blitzed the two of them in marksmanship.
Also through the defence lessons, the two brothers found that they could begin to grow into the sort of confidence that they pretended to have in front of everyone else. Less bruises on them, and more on their father, also made a big difference. Kargir's failing reaction times made it that much easier for Falren, and Wes on occasions, to knock him out before he did much damage.
Their mother, who had endured years of abuse at the hands of her husband quickly found out what her two sons had been up to. When she found that they had told someone about Kargir's behaviour, she had been torn between joy and dismay. Joy that someone knew of the real Kargir, and dismay, because if he knew that someone else knew, all three of them would suffer.
But gradually, Kargir became sicker, and sicker. His liver stopped one night while he was sleeping. He never woke up. Had he gone to a medic, they could have treated the liver, or replaced it with a cybernetic one. But as he refused to admit he had an alcohol problem, he also refused to think that the alcohol was slowly killing him.
After his death, people began to notice changes within the family. The two boys, while not stopping their pranks completely, certainly scaled them back, like they weren't a necessary distraction anymore. Dalrina Janson became less withdrawn, and more like the vibrant woman she had been before she married. The community began to wonder what had been going on while Kargir had been alive, but were in part, to afraid to ask.
After struggling with cancer for six months, Dalrina Janson passed on three years after her husband. In the absence of both parents, the twenty-year-old Falren had sold the small farm the family had owned and he and Wes accepted Imiary's offer to move in with Deirean and herself in exchange for working on their property instead.
Another year past, and Taanab came more under the Empire's thumb. Now recruiting had started in Pendeth, and many other districts across the planet. Many of the young men of the farming community were eager to join, to experience life beyond the limits of Taanab.
Deirean and Falren, without Wes for the time being, hid in an old hiding place of theirs that overlooked the flock of volunteers.
"Fools," Falren muttered with an equal measure of pity and scorn directed at the young men, mostly in their mid to late teens or early twenties. "They really think that if they join the Imp forces, they'll be 'helping people'," he laced a large amount of sarcasm into the last two words.
Deirean motioned for him to lower his voice. "Careful, Fal, we don't want anyone to hear that," he warned. "This is bad. They say that they want 'volunteers', but if they don't get the numbers they want, it'll be conscription," he frowned at the scene in front of him.
"Then we'll really be in for it, won't we 'Irea,"
Deirean nodded glumly.
The two friends sat in silence for quite some time before Wes joined them.
"What were you doing that's put such a smirk on your face this time?" Falren asked the dark-haired fifteen-year-old.
Wes' smirk widened. "You don't want to know."
"Who's going to be chasing you and yelling at you, then?" Deirean queried.
"Salphorin," he relented. "But he deserved it, he was pushing the younger kids around again," Wes added.
"If he wasn't such a Imp lover, I'd almost feel sorry for him," Deirean muttered.
Wes looked affronted. "Hey, I give you two, and other friends the nice lot," he informed them. "The ones I do on people I don't like are much nastier," he gave a predatory grin.
The two twenty-one-year-olds looked at each other. "We are definitely not getting in his bad books," Deirean said emphatically.
"Agreed, what he does now is bad enough," Falren confirmed.
"What, you mean neither of you like the little stuffed nerfs on your hats last time?" Wes asked innocently. The only response he got was two glares sent in his direction.
The crowd was starting to thin out in front of them, and the officers weren't looking too happy about it either. Soon it was only the Imperial officers left.
"I would have thought that all the boys here would have wanted to get off this backward rock," the sharp voice of one of the officers floated to the three boy's hiding place.
"Whatever, we still need more numbers here. We have to start ivisiting/i people," the icy calm voice of the officer who was obviously in charge sent chills through the three eavesdroppers.
"They're gonna force people into the Academy," Deirean whispered despairingly, stating the obvious.
"We going to start with the eldest boys again, sir?" the junior officer asked with the air of a person going through a regular drill.
"Yes. The ones in their twenties, then we'll move down," the commanding officer confirmed.
Deirean and Falren looked at each other. "We are so dead," Falren croaked. Deirean nodded numbly.
Fear flitted across Wes' face. "But you could hide couldn't you? Between the three of us, we know the best hidey-holes in the district."
Deirean shook his head. "They'll have the local records on hand. If we get visited, we're in trouble," he muttered, barely above a whisper.
"'Irea's right, Wes," Falren told him quietly. "If we hide, resist, whatever, we'll not only be sentencing ourselves to whatever the Empire does to us, but all our friends and family too."
Silence reigned after Falren voiced those frighteningly true facts in the hidden glade.
Eager to break the tense silence, Wes chipped in, "Maybe we better head home."
Two brunette heads eagerly nodded in response as the three of them started to thread their way through the green and brown maze.
Imiary looked over the three young men as they wandered in with varying stated of apprehension on their faces. "Do I want to know what you've all been up too?" she asked.
"Well, you don't want know what Wes got up to at least," Deirean told her. Wes affected an innocent expression as if to say, 'Who, me?'
"For that matter, 'Irea, we don't even know what he did, and we probably don't want to either," Falren pointed out.
"Awww... No one wants to hear about my pranks no more... it's just so devastating..." Wes pretended to be heartbroken.
Imiary just raised an eyebrow, long used to the trio's antics. "What about you elder two, hmm? What got you looking so worried?" she queried. For sometime, silence was her only answer.
Finally, Deirean quietly replied, "The Imps didn't get the numbers they wanted from the volunteers. They're going to be conscripting, mother."
The ball of bread dough that Imiary had been kneading dropped back into its bowl with a thud. By the looks on their faces, she hadn't expected it to be good, but she had expected that. "Are you sure?" she demanded. "How can you be sure about that?" She desperately clung to straws, trying to convince herself that Deirean and Falren wouldn't be forced into the military. Maybe they'd even take Wes, even though he was barely fifteen. Surely even the Imps thought that was too young to be in the military.
"Because we overheard them talking about it," Wes said bitterly, a completely serious expression covering his usually cheery face.
"Oh,' said Imiary faintly as she sat down.
Deirean, Falren and Wes quickly prepped dinner and no one said anything more on the subject of the Imperials while the four of them ate.
Unfortunately, the vague hope that the topic could be kept from conversation all night was thrown out the window when a knock echoed through the quiet house.
The kind of knock none of them wanted to hear.
Bah, bah, bah... What do you think it is:p Review!
Esteban T. Rodriguez: Thanks! I figured thatthere'd be something in Janson's past that he's "running" from. After all, most of the other SW characters have angsty pasts... And on the lack of pilot focus, ever read the X-Wing series? They're great!
Misha