The quest we had all been sent on was not a quiet journey. On Dantooine, guided by a vision from Revan and Malak's past - in which there was mention of a mysterious Star Forge - Bastila and I had discovered Rakatan ruins some twenty kilometres from the Academy. The ruins housed an incomplete map showing us multiple planets in several systems: Kashyyyk, Manaan, Korriban and Tatooine. The Council had deduced that there must be other maps on these planets, and that we needed to track down Revan and Malak's unusual research, perhaps leading to solutions in the fight against the Sith Empire. To me, this seemed a particularly fragile and curiously flawed project. But the Masters and Bastila were so sure that this mission would result in a favourable outcome that I complied with their demands without asking too many questions. In any case, each of the few questions I had managed to express had been answered in a vague, even esoteric way. "You had to trust the Force", I was told. My rational academic brain was screaming at me to get out of the way and let all these lunatics deal with their supernatural beliefs. However, I was persuaded that something had to be done to defeat the Sith, and apparently Bastila and I were the chosen two in our little family cult! And, although I was not an enthusiastic supporter of the 'listen to the Force' speech, I trusted Bastila. If she felt it was necessary to go on this crusade, then I was going to follow her. After all, she was still my preceptress. The small group we had from Taris had agreed to join us on this quest, and the Council had recommended Juhani to go with us, which she did without the slightest hesitation. We had all returned to the Ebon Hawk and set out to find the other star maps, with the hope of defeating the Empire of Malak.
We had already found the map of Kashyyyk. The journey had taken us to the Shadowlands under the Wookie village of Rwookrrorro, where we had met Jolee Bindo, a caustic old hermit and former member of the Jedi Order. The man had helped us greatly in our quest for the star map. After copying the data from it into a datapad, and dealing with some issues concerning Zaalbar, we left the planet, Bindo in our luggage, and headed for Tatooine. It was now four days since we had set foot on the sands of the small town of Anchorhead. Our journey had taken us into the hot desert surrounding the settlement. After a tiring day in this particularly hostile environment, we had met some miners who had very kindly invited us to rest on their sandcrawler for the night.
I left a pseudo sanitary cell, which was particularly disreputable, but when I got there and saw myself in a mirror, it didn't seem so disgusting after all. I felt as if I hadn't washed for months. The heat of Tatooine, the sand, the sweat and blood of the last few battles, and the fatigue that came with it all had turned me into a beast as unattractive as an old rakghoul that had just wallowed in the molasses of the sewage of all Taris.
Perhaps I was exaggerating.
Nevertheless, a clean sweep was not a luxury at that moment. I had taken the opportunity to shave off the beard I had grown on Dantooine to the best of my ability. I slightly regretted this decision, but the suffocating heat of the planet might be more bearable with a few less hairs. I had then put on a white short-sleeved top and dark military trousers, which I had kept from my few months in the Republic's armed forces. Over the trousers I wore the Jedi Consular boots that Master Dorak had given me on Dantooine.
My skin was still cool and humid, when I entered what seemed to be a huge corridor with no opening to the outside, lit only by a multitude of small white lights, like markers. I followed this succession of bulbs to the end of the corridor, which I knew led to an outside platform. By now night had almost fallen, and the heat with it. I had an almost euphoric urge to expose my decently cleaned carcass to the cool breeze of the desert dusk. I pressed on, as an irrational fear of missing such a moment suddenly gripped my gut. When I finally stepped outside, I stopped, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. I never thought that such a simple moment could make me feel so good. Perhaps this was what being a Jedi was all about.
A slight coughing sound brought me out of my reverie. I opened my eyes and scanned the platform for the sound. A simple movement of my head led me to a figure, about ten metres away, leaning on a solid metal railing. It was almost dark, but the two Tatooine suns were still glowing, and I could easily recognise Bastila, who did not seem to have noticed my presence. I walked slowly towards her, with a delicate step, but with a determination that I channelled as best I could. As I approached the Jedi, I could see the colours of the sky over the horizon, which she also seemed to be observing: a palette of exquisite shades, from red to pale pink to a range of oranges. Tatooine's nightfall was a marvellous sight for any mind with even the slightest appreciation of nature's beauty. It was a welcome relief from the brutality that the days inflicted on any creature venturing into the desert.
This sandcrawler was certainly not the best place to rest and heal, but under the circumstances it almost seemed like an enchanting break from the gruelling quest for star maps.
At last I reached my preceptress. With delicacy, I placed a hand on her shoulder, as if to announce my arrival, and immediately came to stand by her side. Bastila looked up at me, and gave me a sincere smile, albeit with a certain nervousness. I stared at her sympathetically. As she did not seem inclined to speak, I allowed myself to take the initiative.
"You should get some rest." I suggested solicitously.
Bastila's response was a silent laugh. Her eyes stared straight into something in front of her, and she smiled again, both genuinely and tightly.
"Don't worry." She said at last in a tone that was meant to be reassuring. "I won't do anything to jeopardize our mission."
It was my turn to laugh, which drew Bastila's attention back to me. She was now staring at me with a look that oscillated between curiosity and confusion.
"Bastila." I said, still laughing slightly to support my point. I took my eyes off the Jedi, leaned more firmly on the railing, and, in a voice that was regaining its seriousness, I added:
"You know very well this is not what I'm worried about."
A silence fell. It seemed to last forever. I realised at that moment that I had just said exactly the kind of thing that Bastila really didn't like to hear. Our relationship had evolved since Taris, so much so that we could now consider ourselves close friends. So close, in fact, that some of our interactions sometimes seemed to have a certain amount of ambiguity about them. Just like now. It was an unspoken, restrained, even hidden attachment. At least, especially on her part. Sometimes I would let her know that I cared for her. However, she, faithful to her dogma, remained mostly in some state of formality, and left my attempts to strengthen our relationship unanswered. I sighed almost imperceptibly, and with my eyes focused on the horizon, I waited patiently for the sermon the Jedi would deliver.
But seconds passed and nothing happened. Eventually, I looked back at my friend in confusion. Unexpectedly, she didn't look like she was preparing herself to torture me with her eternal lessons of proper Jedi behaviour. She was staring at me, but at the same time she seemed to be in another place. She was staring at me, but at the same time she seemed to be in another place. Suddenly she moved away from the railing and came to sit against the wall just beside the opening of the dreadful corridor which I had to cross again to reach the dormitories. With furrowed brows I watched the young woman. She had settled herself against the wall, her knees bent against her chest.
It was obvious.
She was still recovering from her meeting with Helena Shan, her mother, who had requested her daughter by message before going directly to Tatooine to find her. She was lost in this moment, which she seemed unwilling to share with anyone. A prospect which, I could not deny, upset me somewhat. I had wanted to accompany her to her mother. But she had refused. Then, when she returned to us, she hardly spoke to us. I tried to encourage her to share her feelings, but nothing helped. Bastila didn't want to talk.
Tonight, however, I had a strong urge to try again. So I left the railing and came to sit next to her. The Jedi was not looking at me. She looked more interested in some kind of nail that she had probably just found on the floor and was fiddling with it between her fingers, her hands resting on her knees.
I was studying her, silently. I didn't know how to initiate a discussion. Long, very long seconds passed without either of us saying a word. As I took my eyes off the woman and made small movements to settle myself, Bastila suddenly spoke up:
"My father is dead."
These few words had an unexpected impact on me. I knew almost nothing about her father. On Kashyyyk, we had certainly found time to talk about her past, and the little I remembered of mine, but she had never fully opened up. However, at that moment, I felt a particular pain: that of losing a precious person. Very precious indeed. I realised that, beyond my own compassion and affection for Bastila, I felt through our bond some of the emotion that was shaking the Jedi at that moment. I knew she was close to her father, but now I realised it was a love of a power I could have never imagined. Bastila had just learned that she had lost the one person who still connected her to that part of her that had survived the coldness of the Jedi teachings. Without her father, she was ultimately alone, with no way out of this life without attachment, without tenderness, without love.
These thoughts raced through my mind at a furious pace. Something inside me wanted to do something, something that would prevent Bastila from falling further into the austere life that the Jedi had imposed on her since she left her family. So with no warning, I grabbed one of her hands between my own. The small metallic sound of the nail falling to the floor punctuated my gesture, and very succinctly diverted the Jedi's attention, so that I was able to continue without her pushing me away. I saw Bastila's gaze dart from the nail that had rolled to the ground to my own eyes. She looked particularly puzzled, but didn't say a word.
"I am truly sorry." I announced, pretending not to notice the rather disconcerted expression Bastila was showing.
Without really believing it, I hoped that my words, although very simplistic, would prevent the Jedi from repelling my action and lecturing me. She didn't respond, and just watched me, visibly entangled in an intense internal conflict. Nevertheless, she seemed to gradually calm down, and her almost scandalised look gave way to all the sadness that was consuming her. I even noticed a few discreet tears running down her cheeks to her chin.
"It is certainly a poor consolation, but I want you to know that you can always count on me." I continued almost lyrically, my gaze firmly locked in hers. I took advantage of this moment of silence to wrap my hand around hers.
The young woman smiled shyly at me, came and rested her other hand on our intertwined ones for a few seconds, and eventually completely undid my gesture, recovering her initial position.
"My mother was hateful, as I expected." She finally said, without commenting on my last words, her eyes fixed on her hands, now free of my touch. "I thought I'd got over that in time." The woman stopped, and let out a disillusioned breath. I was totally focused on her, watching every word she said and every move she made. Nevertheless, seeing that the Jedi did not seem able to continue, I spoke up:
" You don't?" I asked as warmly as I could.
"I'm afraid so." Bastila replied softly. "I can't get her words and insults out of my head."
"Her insults? " I immediately retorted, unable to conceal my sudden shocked attitude.
"Yes, it's usual." The Jedi announced casually, almost sounding as if she wanted to diminish the seriousness of this, referring to the regularity of such interactions with her mother. I made no response at the time and instead stared at the young woman, my mouth half open, furrowing my brows. Scandalously perplexed. Bastila directed her gaze towards me, and, certainly at the sight of the pout I was displaying, could not restrain a nervous laugh, which had the effect of reinforcing my perplexity at that moment.
"Did I shock you?" She simply asked.
"No. Not you." I said at first. "Did your mother have a habit of verbally attacking you?" I continued, resolved to investigate as much as I could.
Bastila laughed again. I saw her take her eyes off me for a moment, and fix her hands again before returning to me.
"If only verbally." The Jedi announced, a note of bitterness in her voice. Increasingly concerned by what I was about to hear, I turned to face her more frankly, sharpening my focus even more. "She never laid a hand on me, let's be clear about that. But let's just say that, when I did some childish mischief, or even if I acted clumsily, she didn't hesitate to punish me, and disproportionately so."
"What do you mean?" I inquired apprehensively.
Bastila let out another breath, her hands now flat on the sheet metal, her eyes directed at the dunes and said:
"Well, there have been many times when I've sat on a stool for a whole day with my nose inches from a wall, without eating and sometimes without drinking."
I stared at Bastila, without saying a word. Then, under the weight of such an announcement, I finally took my eyes off her, and came to lose myself in the vagueness for a few seconds. It was as if I had to think to be sure of what I had heard. Without any morbid desire to imagine this traumatic spectacle, I visualised in my mind the scene that Bastila had just described to me very briefly. Such atrocity. How cruel of a parent to her only child. And this was only one example, among probably many others. I knew Bastila's mother was very difficult. But I had no idea that we were getting into something so serious. When I first met Bastila Shan on the Endar Spire, I was worlds away from imagining that I was dealing with a woman who, as a child, had suffered severe abuse at the hands of her own mother. Her attitude was so arrogant and haughty that I thought of her as being of wealthy, even noble, descent, living in opulence, a child who had been given everything. But I was very much mistaken. Not only had the very young Bastila Shan never lived in material wealth, but she had also had to deal with a mother whom I considered unstable and dangerous. I struggled to hold back the sudden rush of my breath, and, thinking back to the words Bastila had spoken, which clearly sought to lessen the gravity of the facts, I finally regained her eyes.
"And you think that's better than raising a hand to you?" I asked almost angrily, although I had no intention of lashing out at her.
"Is there really one situation that is better than another in this?" The Jedi retorted in a voice between impatience and irritation. She paused for a moment and then said more calmly, "Besides, I had my father there for me."
"Bastila, just because your father loved and cherished you does not diminish the seriousness of your mother's actions." Bastila turned away from me, and I saw her biting her lower lip. I allowed myself to add: "Your father did not provide emotional balance, Bastila. He merely limited the damage. Don't think that his affection for you, which is very real, makes your suffering and trauma any less legitimate."
As I launched into a great speech, I felt a sudden, fleeting pressure against my forearm: the warmth of Bastila's palm and fingers gently on my wrist.
"Please stop." She begged, her gaze drifting away from mine again, then breaking the physical contact she had just initiated.
She moved one of her hands to the roots of her brown hair, her fingers partly buried in it, partly resting against her temple. I had gone too far. Much too far. In my intense desire to support the young woman in her childhood wounds, I had burned through too many steps in a very short time. She was just getting over the news of her father's death. Was there anything more delicate than to denigrate this rightfully beloved man who had just passed away? I let out a quiet sigh, and came to stare at my feet in shame.
"Excuse me, Bastila. I..." I tried to say without actually looking at her, caught up in my embarrassment, at a loss for words. "Excuse me." I finally repeated in an exhalation, straightening up and crossing my arms, my eyes unfocused.
Nevertheless, from the corner of my eye I could perceive Bastila's movements and gestures. She seemed to imitate my posture, and crossed her arms as well. Several times I saw her turn her head very slightly in my direction, as if she was trying to say something without succeeding. I shifted my focus back to her, which seemed to encourage her to finally say something. Bastila very slightly turned her head again. She was not facing me, she was not directly in my eyes. But her posture clearly indicated that she was about to speak.
"You shaved? " She unexpectedly questioned in a surprisingly timid voice. I discreetly widened my eyes, and distinctly came to rest my gaze on the Jedi's face, causing her to finally look at me. It was obvious that she wished to continue our conversation at that moment, but on a lighter note. I smiled in surprise, and replied with some confusion:
"Well. Yeah." I chuckled very briefly and resumed, " The weather is hot here."
The young woman appeared unable to hold back a slight fit of laughter at my comment. I was pleased to see that the atmosphere had suddenly eased, and I joined her in this moment of brief jubilation, which I imagined to be mainly a nervous consequence of the tension that had built up a few minutes earlier. As we continued to laugh at the situation, I noticed that the Jedi's eyes were shifting in a very peculiar way. I was sure that she was looking at me, without assuming it, hence the feeling of avoidance that I perceived.
"What? You don't like me shaved?" I asked in a rather mischievous tone, as we seemed to be coming to the end of our laughter. Bastila chuckled slightly and shrugged, averting her eyes from mine, as if to underline the silliness of my words, and certainly also to emphasise that she was certainly not going to answer such a question. So in a desire to further tease the Jedi, I continued, "Damn. So tonight is not the night I'm going to seduce you. I worked hard for it." I saw her turn her attention back to me with a puzzled look. "Never mind. I'll try again when the beard grows back. You won't be able to resist me." I finished, with a teasing smile on my lips.
Bastila held my gaze, and shook her head in exasperation, which caused me to laugh again, this time completely genuinely and certainly not out of any nervousness. The Jedi was just smiling. But I was sure at this point that she was refraining from following me, for, after all, such jokes were entirely inappropriate, and the Jedi that she was was probably raging at this pseudo-flirtation. However, against all odds, Bastila responded to my teasing:
"And yet you wore it well until now, and I don't remember feeling totally emotional."
I abruptly stopped laughing and raised my eyebrows in momentary disbelief. I wasn't used to the Jedi responding to my regular little provocations. Not in this way. This was the first time she'd ever played with me like this. My discomfited look seemed to provoke a hint of satisfaction in Bastila, proud that she had had the last word. At least, that's what she must have thought.
"Not 'totally'? Got it. So it's only a matter of time now." I retorted with a certain amount of pride and sincere amusement. I stretched out my legs on the floor and leaned nonchalantly against the wall to simulate a casual and somewhat impertinent attitude.
"You will check a dictionary sometime, Mr. Scholar, for 'emotional'. Let me know what you read. Only one /m/ in 'emotional'." Bastila added, clearly not out of ideas."
I glanced at the young woman, grinning. I realised once again that time had passed since Taris, since the Endar Spire. Such observations would have enraged me in the past. Today everything was different. I was satisfied to be entertained by such situations without necessarily seeking to have the last word. And she was no longer in that almost aggressive mood towards me. We were just having fun with each other. I observed the young woman, who was also observing me. Both smiling. As she took her eyes off me to stare at the horizon, I felt that strangely pleasurable pain in my chest again, and felt I could not bring myself to break eye contact with the Jedi. Was my attempt at seduction really that fake? Eventually I turned my attention to the horizon as well. We remained silent for a moment. I thought our dialogue was completely over, but our evening had gone on for another hour or so, as Bastila then seemed determined to tell me more about her father, whose name I finally got to know: Callum Shan.
