Chapter Four
The speeder came around the bend, taking the corner easily at high speed. It was definately designed for that kind of driving, and Jason was enjoying pushing the machine to its' limits. It had been quite a while since he'd driven, so he was quickly having to relearn how to maneuver a street vehicle, instead of the twisting and winding tactics that he used to in a starfighter.
"Getting close," he said, whipping around a left turn and entering a neighborhood. Even though he hadn't seen his childhood residence in almost ten years, he was navigating his way there by pure instinct and muscle memory.
The road narrowed from a four-lane thoroughfare into a more respectable two-lane residential street. With the sun having just crested over the mountains, people were just now waking to their daily lives. A few houses they passed–Jason and Onna–already had the husbands outside, picking up the morning paper in their pajamas, or getting into their own speeders to go to work. Half of them cast disdainful looks their direction, apparently wondering what a couple of young hoodlums were doing, blazing through their neighborhood at that time of the morning.
This place hasn't changed much, Jason thought, looking around as he slowed the speeder a bit. He knew that he was getting close to his former home, and he wanted to approach it slowly, as if to extend the suspense like his life was being written at that very moment.
"There it is," he said to Onna, coming to a stop on the street outside a condemned house. It wasn't condemned when he left, of course, but ten years of not being occupied or cared for would cause the local government to declare it unlivable. It was almost a wonder that it still stood, and hadn't been removed to make space for a new home.
"So, your childhood home," said Onna, taking in the warped and faded siding, sagging roof, and decrepit porch. "I'm sure it looked much better back then."
"Oh yeah, of course," he replied, climbing out of the speeder and moving up the driveway towards the house. It was a modest split-level home, with a small flight of steps leading up to the front door. Which, of course, hung awkwardly on broken hinges. The yellow paint of the house had faded to a dull shade of goldenrod, and most of the windows–especially the bay window that looked into the upstairs living room–had been broken by what he could only guess as being hurled stones. "It looked a lot better."
Jason came up to the garage door, which still, amazingly, stood almost as if time had past it by. It bore the mark of graffiti, though. He idly took notice that Onna stood behind him, looking at his old house with a passive interest. He took hold of the metal handle on the door and, with the aid of the Force, gave it a great upward heave. He strained against it, as the old electronic opener pressed against his effort, but it finally gave way with a loud crashing noise from inside. The door ground open, revealing the messy innards.
When they had moved in, his father had stacked box upon box of their belongings inside, and had neglected to finish unpacking them all. And there they had stood, for almost thirty years now, as they had when Jason left Corellia behind. Now, though, all those boxes were covered in the ancient remnants of webs, crafted by small vampiric insects when the garage had not been accessed for a while.
"Messy in here," Onna commented, taking a step inside. She ran her hand over the old standing freezer next to the door and looked at the pounds of dust that came off it.
"Yeah, I know. We never really got around to cleaning this place out. My dad always wanted to park his speeder in here, but, obviously...he couldn't. I bet that what I'm looking for is in here, if not in his office."
"Would you like me to help?"
"I'd really appreciate it." Jason looked around at all the boxes, and the other miscellaneous pieces of junk that littered the wide space. Many of them carried fond memories of his childhood, and he longed to take many of them with him, but he knew he'd never be able to fit it all in the cramped cargo spaces that his speeder called a trunk. He knew there were at least three ancient hologame systems in there, with all the assorted games and controllers, that he would love to sit down and play in his spare time. Not to mention the annals of family history stored in who-knew how many boxes.
But, the latter was why he was here.
"Which do you want, garage or office?"
"I'll take the garage, if that's okay," Onna responded, moving towards the outward edge of the box pile.
"Alright. For time's sake, only tackle the boxes that you think would have a disk or cube or anything that might contain any of my family's history in it. If you need me, I'll be inside."
Jason hardly waited for her to answer before moving towards the wooden door that lead into the downstairs of the house. Turning the knob, he opened the door and looked into what, for all intents and purposes, was a clean house. There were the telltale signs of insect residency, though, but he just brushed through the webs with hardly a thought. He made his way for a small room just to the right of the stairs that came down from the front landing, that his father had used as his personal little office.
The first place he went was the small safe that was kept under the outward section of a wrap-around style desk. Dad always kept his important information in there. But, I never learned what the combination was...fortunately for me, I have the Jedi lock pick
Retrieving his lightsaber from its' holster, which he had moved around to his let side for the long drive, he thumbed it to life. The cobalt blade cast a deep blue hue to the room, and Jason used the continuous energy loop of the blade to cut the lock from the safe door. With a little telekinesis, the door opened easily, granting him with easy access to what lay inside.
He was a little surprised that the folders and data crystals inside weren't coated in a thick sheet of dust, but he then remembered that the inside of the safe was sealed off from the atmosphere outside. Stooping down, Jason reached in and filled his arms with the contents of the safe. He then set the files down on the desk and appropriated the plush office chair that his father had once sat in.
Most of the files were simple flimsiplast records of vehicle purchases and registrations, along with a few records of medical information, which included Jason's birth certificate. He held the little piece of flimsi in his hands, reading the information on it before sticking it in a jacket pocket.
Nothing here I really need, he thought, placing the documents back inside the safe. It was almost futile, he thought, closing the now-unlockable door and standing again. Making his way for the stairs, he climbed them carefully, not sure of the stability of the long-neglected wood steps. They creaked faintly under his feet, as they always had, and he decided that he could progress without much caution.
At the top of the double-back staircase, he found himself on the floor that housed the livingroom, diningroom, kitchen and the two bedrooms. The livingroom was strewn with broken glass, and a few projectiles laid within the mess. Out of curiosity, Jason headed for the kitchen. There, he opened the conservator, and was welcomed with the rank stench of rotten food. He grimaced and covered his nose with the sleeve of his jacket, and peered in at the spoiled contents. All the vegetables, meat and dairy had gone bad, with the only possible exception being the gallon jug of blue milk. The stuff was known to last for quite a while, but he wasn't sure if roughly ten years was beyond the liquid's refrigerated shelf life.
Shutting the door, he shook his slightly and moved down the hall. At the end, he peeked inside the master bedroom, were his father and, even longer ago, his mother had slept. Stepping inside, he went to the drawers that were hidden underneath the bed frame and started rifling through them. Again, he didn't find anything of any real import to his current mission, but he did find a ton of old holophotos that he started to flip through.
The sheer weight of the family history in those pictures almost made him take them all. They were photos of his mother and father before he was born, enjoying their early married years and even the time they were dating before tying the knot. His mother was truly beautiful, and he was saddened that he hadn't grown up with her guidance. Judging by the simple joy in her smile and eyes, she must have been a truly amazing woman, with boundless love and patience.
Maybe, if she hadn't died having me, I wouldn't have turned to the gang, the Empire, and now the Brotherhood. Maybe I would have grown up well-rounded, graduated from school with much better grades than I did...and, maybe, when the time came, even have trained with Luke and became a true Jedi.
But that was all wishful thinking, based in the regret of not being a better son and, pretty much, letting his family down by not respecting his father and remembering his mother. If his dad was still alive, he'd probably knock Jason upside the head, berate him for how he'd lived his life, and then he'd soften and talk to him about the decisions he'd made.
The uncertain crackling of wood at the other end of the hall jolted Jason from his revelry, and alerted him to the fact that the house wasn't as sound as he'd hoped. Grabbing a handful of the holos, he bolted down the hall and, bounding over the banister, landed softly with the aid of the Force beside the garage door. He could sense Onna's frustration in the room beyond, but she'd made a fair amount of progress in his absence. He could see that by, when he opened the door, that a good third of the boxes were outside the garage with the tops ajar, a sign that they'd been looked through.
"How goes things?" he asked, coming up on the Trianii's side.
"Oh, it goes," she replied, letting out an exasperated sigh and wiping her brow with the backside of a forearm. "I've gone through a few of the boxes, but I haven't found anything that seems all that important."
"That's okay, but we need to get out. I don't know how much longer this place will stand." His statement was underscored as a loud banging was head from somewhere in the direction of the kitchen, and a hail of dust fell from the ceiling.
"Right. I'll get a couple of my guys down here in a hover truck, and we'll get all this stuff out," Onna said, pulling out her comlink halfway through her sentence. She conversed with someone on the other end, her tone tense with worry.
"They'll be here in about ten minutes," she reported once she had stuffed the gadget back in a pocket.
"Good," Jason responded, his tone distracted as he started looking at all the junk in the garage. "I want to get as much of this stuff moved out into the driveway, in case the house gives way before your men get here."
"Sounds good." Almost in tandem, the two started grabbing boxes and moving them down the pavement, almost down to the sidewalk that crossed in front of the house. Their pace was dictated by the rumblings that traveled the length of the house, each noise giving them more cause to move even quicker. About six minutes into their operation, the telltale sound of an approaching police unit reached their ears. The siren blared a couple of times, alerting them to its' presence as a Corellian Security Force speeder rolled up to the sidewalk.
Jason's blood almost ran cold at the sight of the officer, thinking that he had been recognized by someone and turned in on old charges of vandalism, theft or anything else he had done in his teen years. Or maybe they had finally caught up to them with desertion charges, from the last time he'd been home and enlisted in the Corellian Army, just to tuck tail and run back to the Brotherhood.
As the officer climbed out, in his green CorSec uniform, Jason calmed himself and reached out into the Force, asking its' aid in this current, if not ultimately meaningless obstacle.
"Can I help you, officer?" he asked, flashing a disarming smile and exuding peace and camraderie into the Force.
"Yeah, I got a call about you two hanging around this condemned house," CorSec answered, his hand resting instinctually on the handle of his blaster and taking a look at the boxes they had moved out of the house. Then his gaze darted between Jason and Onna, as if sizing them up, or trying to remember if he recognized them as having warrants for their arrest.
"Oh, this is my old childhood home," Jason said, casting a longing look back at the rickety house. "I just came back to see if there was anything left after I finally got word that my dad was dead. Try and make peace with it, and all."
"I understand," the officer said, his tone lightening in respect. His eyes flashed with suspicion, though, and Jason was worried that he'd been found. Images of imprisonment, trial, shame and the Brotherhood shunning him flashed through his mind.
Wait, he thought, they can only hold me for as long as I let them...I'm a Dark Jedi, remember?
"Well, carry on, sir. And my respects to your father's passing." With that, the officer just turned, got back in his speeder, and drove away. Jason was left there, standing in bewilderment. After a moment of staring at the fading taillights of the cop car, he turned to Onna, who was smirking smugly
"I still have some of my powers left," she said, turning back to her work with a slight flick of her long feline tail.
It was about this time when a repulsor-driven van rolled up, and a pair of scraggly- looking males piled out. "Heard you needed a hand, Boss!" one exclaimed. He was human, Caucasian, and with a painful-looking tattoo on his hairless heard. It made him think of images he had seen of Lord Maul, and old apprentice of Palpatine.
"This way, boys," Onna called back, motioning to the still venerable stack of boxes. The two took right to it, gabbing one box each and carrying them into the back of the spacious cargo vehicle. The four of them made short work of the crates, getting almost all of them loaded in what seemed, to Jason at least, to be record time. It was all work, no one stopped to talk, and neither of the new arrivals even cast an assuming glance at Jason. He didn't recognize either, but that didn't surprise him: he had been gone a long time, after all.
Just as the last of the boxes was hefted by one of Onna's minions, and calls of jubilation began to ring out from the four gathered humanoids, a loud and resounding crash echoed off the exterior walls of the other houses, as support beams gave way and the weight of the house came crashing down. Onna cried out in shock as her man was caught in the avalanche of wood and metal.
"Val!" That was his buddy, who went running towards the wreckage carelessly. Jason caught him with an invisible fist the Force.
"No! There's still stuff falling in there. You don't want to get caught in it too, do you?"
"But, he's trapped in there!"
"Don't worry. He's still alive, but afraid and hurt."
"Wha–how do you know that?"
"Just trust me." Jason began to walk up the driveway, eyes scanning the destroyed remains of his old home. Part of him wanted to burst out in tears at the loss of personal history, but the rest of him pushed him on, his duty at that moment to save that poor man's life.
"I wouldn't blame you if you didn't try to save him," Onna said, her voice dripping with accusation. "After all, you Dark Jedi don't care for others, right?"
Jason turned towards her, his eyes narrowed dangerously. "I told you before, I'm not your everyday Dark Jedi. Believe it or not, I do care for others, and I only kill if I need to." He couldn't necesarily blame her for her tone and what she was thinking, after all: it was pretty apparent that Jedi of any breed hadn't been kind to her. But, given that she couldn't remember most of her life, he suspected that if was just some deep down, intrinsic mistrust of Force users. "Now, if you would, leave me to my work so I can save that man."
When she didn't voice any more objections, he turned his full attention to the devastation before him. Indeed, he could sense that Val was still alive, but pinned beneath tons of wreckage and sorely injured. Luckily for him, the house had fallen in such a manner that it had almost created a protective shield around his frail human body.
The Force was his ally, and Jason would use its' power to save Val. Reaching out, he felt the material around him, and he created a Force bubble around the man. He pushed the boundaries of the bubble outwards, moving whole sections of the wreckage. The absolute sheer weight of the rubble gave him trouble, but he gritted his teeth and redoubled his efforts. It was slow going, but Jason's determination would be the victor, not gravity. After what seemed hours of endless exertion, Jason finally created a hole big enough for a man to step through, and lifted Val out of the opening. Setting him down on the driveway, he let go of the bubble and let the wreckage settle again, eliciting a series of loud rumbles and crashes as more of the destroyed house shifted.
Onna immediately rushed to Val's side. He was scratched and bruised in many places, the tattered pieces of his clothing coated in the crimson shade of human blood. He was lucid, however, and kept telling her repeatedly that he was fine, but the worry on her face showed that she didn't believe him.
By this time, many of the residents of nearby houses were filtering out of their homes, coming to see what had happened. Many of them gasped and gapped at the destruction, and others who had arrived earlier were remarking about Jason. He turned his attention towards them, hearing them saying things like "Jedi," and "hero." Turning towards the gathered masses, glancing at them all. As he turned his emerald eyes on each person in turn, he watched as some of the older ones, people he recognized from when he lived there, allowed shock to show on their faces.
They still think of me as a hellion, he thought. Truth be told, not much as changed. Just now I have powers that they couldn't grasp, and I'm using them as I see fit, instead of running around harassing them all.
"Jason, we need to get him to the warehouse!" he heard Onna say, almost a yell. He turned back towards her and came up to her side, looking down at Val. He was indeed quite wounded, but nothing that would handicap or even kill him.
"Don't worry, he'll be fine," he said, squatting down on his knees beside Val. Holding his hands over him, fingers up and palms towards outwards, he closed his eyes and centered himself in the cool pool of the Force, and let it flow through him and into Val. Normally, the healing arts were something not usually taught by the trainers of the Dark Brotherhood, but it was a skill that he had begun learning at the Jedi Academy, and had trained himself to use it more effectively since then. It had come in handy a few times already, healing apprentices who had been almost mortally wounded during training–usually while learning how to use a lightsaber–and he was now turning his skills on the man before him.
The Force flowed through Val, its' healing waves concentrated by Jason's control. He focused on speeding the healing of his bleeding gashes, particularly the ones that would lead to infection and blood loss, and assisted the cells within Val's body to close off the openings. Within moments, most of the injuries had been repaired to a state which would more easily allow them to move him, and Jason opened his eyes and let out a deep sigh. It was a trying technique, and took much of Jason's concentration. Since most of his training had been spent focusing on the combat arts, healing was a little difficult for him to control.
"There, now let's get him into the truck and get back.."
Chapter Five In Progress!!