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Chapter Four - Zilmaris
"A lovely colony world rich in natural resources and far from the Core Worlds. The perfect place for a wounded soul to begin a new life and heal." ~ Keir Taen, Republic surveyor, 24 BBY
"Midge's people are all refugees from the war," Orn told them the next morning at breakfast. "She was a little hesitant to let you onto her world, but I talked her around. It might not hurt to come up with a story for the rest of her people though. One that doesn't involve clones and Jedi."
Asharé was annoyed that their captain had let the colony know they were coming. She'd hoped they could just . . . blend in. She breathed in and tried to exhale the annoyance. She was only partially successful.
"What sort of story?" Asharé asked. "We're refugees. Does anyone need to know more than that?"
Orn shrugged. "Maybe not, but what will you say if someone asks where you're from, or what job you held? The boys ought to at least have a family name."
Ripp and Hart sat up a little straighter at this and Asharé felt heat rise in her cheeks. Why hadn't she thought of that?
Ripp and Hart spend the next several minutes going through surnames with Orn.
Asharé took the time to check in on her charges. Kiri and Binah were seated on the couch at the back of the room with the five younglings—for once Vash was with the others instead of with Dune. They were going through a cadence drill, the younglings clapping their hands in a rhythmic beat set by Kiri or Binah. The drill could be adapted later to lightsaber drills.
Her eyes went to Dune. His beard was neatly trimmed along his jaw, and his shoulder length hair was pulled back in a tail at the nape of his neck. He still kept himself apart from any activity in the room, but Asharé took it as a good sign that he at least sharing space with the rest of them. His presence in the Force no longer roiled and seethed, but she didn't like the dull, sullen lump it had become either.
Ripp and Hart were lively and animated as they talked with Orn. Despite the horrors of war she was sure they'd seen, they sometimes project a child-like joy for the simplest of things. Like the prospect of a last name.
Ripp seemed to be trying to grow the biggest beard he could, leaving it full and untrimmed. He also needed another tube of dye; his dark roots were showing through the red. Hart kept his beard trimmed to the 'scruffy stubble' stage. Despite the hair color differences, they still looked very similar.
And what did you expect from three genetically identical men? she thought with a self-depreciating smile.
"What about Kohlis?" Orn offered.
"Ripp Kohlis," Ripp said, trying it out. "I kind of like it. Hart?"
The medic nodded. "Works for me."
Both men looked at Dune.
The ARC shrugged. "Whatever you like, vode."
Hart picked up an unwrapped protein bar and threw it at Dune, who caught it without looking and tucked it into a pocket.
"Orn, how long until we reach Zilmaris?" Asharé asked.
He shot her a grin. "Tired of my charming company already?"
She couldn't suppress her return smile. "No. Just curious. Will we be there in a few hours, or do we have a couple of days to fill?"
"Five days," Orn said.
Asharé grimaced and the others groaned, even the younglings.
"Five days of protein bars and confined spaces could get . . . interesting," she said.
"There's an area I've set up in the cargo hold for exercising, for when I'm on long hauls," Orn said. "And I have some holobooks and games. We'll figure it out. As for protein bars, I'm carrying supplies for Zilmaris. Midge won't begrudge me a few meals worth of supplies."
Yes, but will she begrudge us those supplies, Asharé wondered.
Kiri and Binah moved onto a meditation with the younglings. The children were getting restless and Asharé could feel their lack of concentration. They were too young to sit still long.
"Binah, why don't you have them do Leithaat that Master Jenro taught us?" she said. "The younglings might do better with a moving meditation, that just sitting."
Leithaat was the introductory form in the Voi E'it moving meditation. Master Jenro had learned it from his master, a Nautolan, and then passed it on to his Padawans.
"A good suggestion, Master," Binah murmured.
Asharé turned back to Orn. "Do you think there might be enough credits in the sale of the Seeker to cover any of the colony's supplies we use?"
Orn finished his protein bar and shoved the wrapper in his pocket. "There might be. Won't really know until the ship is scrubbed of its old identity, re-christened, and sold. Could be a month or two. I'll talk to Midge about anything we use, so don't worry your pretty head about it. Now, if you'll follow me . . ."
The captain took Asharé, Kiri, and the clones to the starboard cargo bay where a portion had been marked off and contained gravity treadmill, also called a grav-mill, a set of denseplast free weights, and a heavy bag for boxing.
"You're welcome to use them whenever you like," Orn said. "Now, let's look at these crates."
They found machinery and electrical parts, seeds, soft goods, and finally some packaged foods that weren't protein bars or nutrient drinks.
"Well, it's not fresh fruit or rare nerf steak, but it'll be better than a steady diet of what we had for breakfast," Asharé said.
They gathered their bounty and headed back to the lounge.
In five days, Asharé wouldn't have to be in charge anymore. Someone else could make the tough decisions. On the other hand—if she were honest with herself—she didn't want anyone making decisions for her group. They were her to lead. Hers to protect. Master Jenro had given her the duty.
Coruscant to Asharé, come back to reality, she thought. You're not a commander. Haven't been for two years. And the last time you lead anyone into battle, too many of them died.
"Not the last time," she murmured.
She'd kept Dune and Ripp alive. And she didn't intend to lead anyone into battle. Just into forming a new life. That thought was more daunting that a legion of battle droids.
"Did you say something?" Orn asked politely.
"Just thinking out loud," Asharé said.
After lunch the next day, Dune joined Ripp and Hart as headed to the cargo bay to try out Orn's exercise equipment. Kiri trailed along behind them. Dune had the sinking feeling that the Wookiee was going to try and make good on his promised life debt.
"This is great," Ripp said. He was using a couple of the heavier dumbbells. "I feel like I've been sitting around doing nothing for weeks."
"That's pretty much the way it's been," Hart said. The medic was fiddling with settings on the grav-mill. When he found one he liked, he started jogging.
Dune knew that Sted had requested that the Jedi reconfigure the salon pod on the Seeker for the clones' use as a gym for the long trip. The large conference table and ornate chairs had been removed and replaced with a few treadmills and two multifunction gym machines. For twelve clones, that was woefully inadequate. More often than not, they had ended up doing boring calisthenic workouts, or sparring against each other, and occasionally Asharé and Kiri, during the journey.
Dune took up a fighting stance in front of the heavy bag and began a workout of his own. Over the next couple of hours, they traded off stations until they'd each had a turn at the mill, bag, and weights. The hum of Kiri's lightsaber was a constant background noise.
"Anyone want to spar?" Ripp asked, bouncing on his toes.
Hart caught Dune's eye and tilted his head at Ripp. The indication was clear. You first.
Dune nodded. It had been kind of nice working out some of his frustration on the heavy bag. Having an opponent throw punches back might be a better solution. He stepped toward Ripp and took a fighter's crouch, hands held loosely in front of his chest.
Kiri joined Hart to watch.
Ripp made the first move, rushing at Dune with a punch meant to drive him into the ground. Dune stepped to the side and shoved Ripp so he stumbled. The heavy gunner managed to keep himself from falling to the floor, but it was a near thing. He faced Dune again, a glower on his face.
Dune knew that Ripp had little patience for a real spar. He liked to overpower his enemy with strength and end things quickly. Dune was a much more patient hunter, and he'd learned a few tricks in ARC training that the rank-and-file troops didn't get taught. When Ripp rushed in again, this time with a kick, Dune caught his leg and trapped it against his ribs, then pivoted and drove his elbow into Ripp's hip joint. Not hard enough to do any permanent damage, but enough to let his squad mate know he'd been hit
Ripp snarled as he hopped out of range. He shook his leg out and gingerly tested his weight on the limb.
"The numbness will pass in a moment," Dune said.
"He's protecting his left side, Ripp," Orn called from the sidelines.
When had he arrived?
"You got an old injury there, Dune?" Orn said lazily.
"Shut up," Dune hissed.
Ripp took advantage of the distraction to lunge at Dune, who turned with the attack, turning it into a graze instead of a devastating blow. His left side didn't twinge at all. Dune followed up with a punch combo and when he had more space, a spinning kick that landed Ripp on the hard deck plates, on his injured hip.
"Kriff, Dune. What was that for?" Ripp growled.
Hart went to Ripp's side and helped him up. "You okay?"
"Fine," he muttered limping over to sit on a crate.
Dune turned on Orn. "D'you want to put your credits where your mouth is, or do you just offer comments from the sidelines?"
Orn shrugged. "I'll spar with you."
He took two steps toward Dune, and that's as far as Dune let him get. The ARC launched himself at the captain, fists and feet flying. To Dune's surprise, Orn blocked or evaded each attack. Then Orn unleashed his counterattack. There was a breathless half-minute of blows to soft tissue and bruising holds around limbs.
Then Dune was astonished to find himself face down on the deck, one of Orn's arms around his throat and the captain's knee pressed into his back over his left kidney.
"You always this sloppy?" Orn panted.
The thought flitted through Dune's mind, At least he's out of breath too.
Dune bucked, trying to throw the other man off, and stifled a groan as Orn's knee dug into his kidney. He stilled. After another second, Orn released him and stepped out of reach. Dune got up slowly, rubbing his throat.
"You're letting your anger control your actions," Orn said. "I can see you're a good fighter, but you're too emotional."
"You don't know anything about me, tayli'bac?"
The captain shrugged. "Just what I observed. Take it or leave it. But if your life, or the lives of those around you, mean anything to you, you ought to think of getting yourself under control. At least during a fight."
Dune made and inarticulate noise and stalked away. Once he was out of sight, he pressed a hand to his back and winced. He hadn't expected Orn to be that good. The man didn't look soft, but he didn't look like a commando either.
Dune jogged along the corridor that led to the port cargo bay. He could hear Kiri behind him. Dune had told him, several times, to stop following him, but Kiri declined to listen. Once in the cargo bay, Dune clambered up the stacks of crates to the little refuge he'd created for himself. He thanked whatever part of the Force was watching out for his sanity that Kiri didn't follow. The Wookiee seemed to know how far he could trail Dune without making a total nuisance out of himself. Dune heard the unmistakable sound of a lightsaber igniting, then the low hum as the weapon whirled through the air.
He's going to be getting a lot of lightsaber practice if he keeps this up, Dune thought.
He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.
Fek and all, Wraith. Why'd you have to go and get yourself killed?
He could almost feel his vod slide down the wall to sit at his side. Feel the clack of armor as Wraith bumped his shoulder against Dune's in greeting.
Are you still whining about that like a newly decanted batch-kit? Dune imagined Wraith chiding. You gotta move on, vod.
"Why?" Dune whispered.
It was easy enough to imagine Wraith shaking his head, that familiar exasperated look on his face. They'd had this conversation before, more than once.
The aiwha-bait must have messed up your growth solution, ner vod. No one holds onto the past like you do. I'd bet my next shore leave if you saw Captain Tavvies tomorrow you'd shoot him in the face.
"You would too, if he'd betrayed you like he did me and my batchers."
Not me. Water under the bridge, as the Naboo say.
Dune's lips twisted into a disbelieving smirk.
Okay. Maybe I'd deck him.
"That's more like it."
Dune pulled his thoughts back, unwilling to indulge further in his flight of fancy. Wraith was gone. Eventually he'd just have to deal with that fact.
Eventually.
But not right now.
Four days into their flight from Vicondor, and Binah was so frustrated she could have screamed. But a true Jedi was never that out of control. However, she was a little less than careful stacking the dishes to take to the kitchen, clinking and clanking the dishware in irritation.
"I can finish up here," Hart said.
They were both on dish duty for the day. She hesitated a moment, then nodded and walked to where Master Phirn was leading the younglings through yet another moving meditation, and joined them.
Binah tried to still her mind, but peace was a long way off. She was supposed to be training as a Jedi. She was supposed to be training to be a healer.
Instead she was stuck being a nursemaid. The younglings were cute enough, but she'd had other goals and aspirations when Master Jenro had chosen her to be his Padawan.
"When the war is ended, and I feel it will be soon, Padawan, we shall visit the afflicted worlds and bring healing," he'd said.
Sometimes Binah imagined that poets would write sonnets about her—and Master Jenro, of course—praising their healing abilities. Immortalizing their deeds for generations to come. She bad afterward. Jedi used the Force for the good of others, not so that their actions would be remembered. But still, some part of her wanted recognition. When her instructors praised her, it made her heart soar. And so, she always strove to be the best.
But how was she supposed to be the best when Master Phrin was ignoring her? After breakfast, the two of them would hold lessons for the younglings. Binah always did her best to help her unofficial master, even pairing up with whichever youngling didn't have a partner when doing activities. But everything they were going over was so basic. Master Phrin never had training for Binah to help her grow in her healing abilities.
They finished the Voi E'it form. Binah and Master Phrin sat on the couch and the younglings sat on the floor in front of them. Master Phrin brought out a holocron and let it hover over her palm as she used the Force to activate it. It was another boring reading lesson. Tana-Di, being the oldest, was the only one who really benefited from it.
"Master," Binah said softly to Master Phrin. "May I go practice my lightsaber drills?"
The Mirialan Jedi nodded. "Thank you for helping with breakfast this morning."
Binah bobbed her head in acknowledgement but was unsure if Master Phrin meant it. Surely, she had seen Binah leave Hart to finish the cleanup. When Master Phrin didn't say anything further, Binah went to her room and retrieved her lightsaber from her carryall and headed to the port cargo bay. Taakirik—she wasn't sure if she should refer to the Wookiee as Master Taakirik or not, but Kiri was definitely too informal—was usually in the starboard cargo bay with the clones.
She didn't mind Hart too much. The medic was calm and more soft-spoken than the other two. Ripp was just obnoxious, always loud and looking for a fight. And Dune . . . the ARC trooper terrified her. He'd never been very chatty, but since the death of Wraith, he'd been downright chilling.
Binah missed the other clones. Cannit had always had a joke or some interesting bit of trivia to share. Wraith, unlike Dune or Sted, had treated her with the respect due a Padawan. But most of all, she missed Bonus. Something about the chipper clone had hinted that he was younger than the others, for all they looked identical. She'd felt she could relate to him better than any of the other clones.
With a sigh, Binah entered the cargo bay, took a guard stance, and activated her lightsaber and began the Makashi Form drills. If Master Phrin wouldn't train her, and Taakirik was too busy with his life debt, then she'd just train herself. Master Jenro had brought a holocron with training and practices for her. She'd just ask Master Phrin for it, so she could continue her studies. Perhaps that would be enough to get Master Phrin to begin her training again.
"Tomorrow, we'll reach Zilmaris," Asharé told the younglings as they climbed into their bunks.
"How long will we be there?" Tana-Di asked.
"I'm not sure," Asharé said honestly, brushing the little Zabrak's hair back from her forehead horns. "Probably for a very long time. Until you're grown."
"That'll be—" Zaig started.
"—forever!" Liri finished.
Asharé smiled as she moved to their bunk. This was something new the twins had started; one starting a sentence and the other finishing it.
"Well then, I guess we'll be on our new world forever," she teased, tickling the little Twi'leks.
They giggled and squealed, but settled quickly enough when she pulled the blanket up around them.
She moved on to Poli's bunk.
"Are you going to be our mama now?" the little Haruun Kal girl asked.
"No. I will be your teacher and your friend though."
Poli seemed to think about that for a minute, then nodded. "Okay. Goodnight, Teacher Asharé."
"Goodnight, Poli."
She moved to sit on the edge of Vash's bed.
"Sing," Vash said as she tucked him in.
Asharé hadn't sung to the younglings since before Iridonia. She didn't much feel like it.
"Please sing," Liri and Zaig said in unison.
"Sing, sing," the younglings all chanted.
Asharé sighed. "I guess I could sing one song."
"Yay!" the younglings chorused.
"But you must all lie still in your beds and go to sleep, alright?"
The younglings settled on their bunks. Vash reached out and took hold of her index finger, then popped his thumb in his mouth.
Asharé gently removed the digit. "Try deep breathing first, idarri. Hand over your heart."
Vash let out a put-upon sigh, but deepened his breathing, his little hand on his chest. He kept his grip on her finger.
Asharé grinned, then collected herself and began to sing. It was a low, haunting lullaby she'd heard sung at the crèche in the Temple. Despite the poignant melody, it had always comforted her. As she started into the second verse, she could feel the younglings' auras relaxing. Vash's eyes had closed and his grip on her finger loosened. By the fifth verse, they were all asleep. She sang one more verse, then sliding her finger free of Vash' lax grip, she slipped from the room.
Hart was waiting for her in the hallway. He had a peculiar, almost plaintive, look on his face, but it vanished as soon as he saw her. She brushed her awareness against his aura but sensed nothing untoward.
"Can we talk?" he asked.
She nodded and followed him down the corridor away from the lounge.
"You've been pulling away," Hart said when they stopped.
Now she sensed agitation from him. He didn't want to have this conversation but apparently felt that it needed to happen.
"I've been focused on the younglings."
Hart shook his head. "It's more than that. It's like you've . . . given up. We're going into this situation blind and we could use your leadership. You can't abandon us now, Commander."
"I'm not your commander," Asharé said with more heat than she intended.
"Then why did you step up? Why did you lead us on Vicondor?" There was no accusation in his voice, just genuine inquiry.
She'd read the official spiel about the clones. Bred to be more docile than their DNA donor, and to follow orders. Was that trait so deeply ingrained in them that they needed a general or commander to lead them into the unknown?
"Asharé?" Hart prompted.
"I don't know. I . . . I shouldn't have shouldn't have taken the lead. I should have let you lead. Or Dune. Or Ripp or Kiri. I just . . . I didn't want . . ."
I didn't want anyone to die.
Zyr flashed across her memory again. His armor a charred ruin. His painfilled eyes going dull and blank as she watched. Her hands began to shake, and she clenched them into fists, nails biting into her palms. Her chest began to tighten.
"Asharé!" Hart's voice seemed to come from a long way away. He gripped her wrists in his hands, grounding her with the contact. "Take a breath. There's no battle here. We're all safe."
Was she really that predictable after one panic attack? Asharé closed her eyes and twisted her hands in his grip so she could hold onto his forearms.
Keep breathing, she reminded herself. Everyone's safe.
Her galloping heart began to slow.
Thank the Force, it's working this time.
She felt Hart's forehead touch hers, and a wave of peace washed over her. Her grip on his wrists eased.
"Sorry," she said, straightening and releasing him. "Are you sure you want to follow someone like me?"
Hart smiled. "Wouldn't have anyone else, al'verde. Besides, you're the oldest."
Asharé laughed weakly. "That's not going away, is it?"
The next day, about an hour after lunch, they reached Zilmaris.
Everyone had squeezed into the cockpit for a first glimpse of their new world ad Orn brought the ship out of hyperspace.
Kiri sat in the copilot chair with Zaig and Liri in his lap. Tana-Di clung to Binah, Asharé held Poli, and Vash was happily seated on Dune's shoulders.
Orn pulled back the hyperdrive leaver and hyperspace dissolved into star lines, which then snapped back into pinpricks of distant light. A blue-green world hung in the view port around which a single moon orbited.
"It's so—"
"—pretty," the twins said.
"Home!" Vash said, kicking his heels against Dune's chest in excitement.
The ARC gripped the boy's ankles to still them. "Uhn. Careful there, Vash'ika. I'm not a meshgeroya ball."
Vash giggled and hugged Dune's head.
Orn looked at them over his shoulder and smiled. He reached for the comm.
"Zilmaris, this is Bastion. Am I going to have to fight for a place to land today?"
"Orn!" a happy female voice said. "Did you bring the power converters I asked for? You're cleared to land, by the way. Midge is giving me the hairy-eyeball."
"Is this Rainah? I didn't think Midge let anyone else use her precious comm. And, yes, I got your power converters."
There was a happy whoop, then some jostling of the comm, and a different female voice came on.
"Just land in the field where you usually do, Orn. No need to tie up my comm with unnecessary chatter."
"Ah, Midge, your sweet voice is music to my ears."
"You need to get your hearing checked then."
Asharé grinned. Obviously these two were old acquaintances.
"We'll be landing in a few minutes. I've got a couple of full cargo bays, so call the haulers. And I've got your newest colonists."
"Humph," Midge said.
"See you in the world." Orn signed off.
"She didn't sound very happy that we're coming," Binah said.
Orn brought the ship down through the atmosphere. "Don't worry about it. That's just Midge. She'll warm up to you. Alright everyone, go take a seat until we're on the ground."
They all filed out to the lounge and took seats.
"I'm nervous," Binah said.
I am too, Asharé thought. But she couldn't admit it out loud. Hart and the others were depending on her.
"We'll trust in the Force, and in each other," she said instead, echoing Master Jenro's final words. She looked at Kiri and Binah. "However, I think what Orn said our first day out is sound advice. We shouldn't let anyone know we're Jedi. We should try to live and work without our powers as much as possible." She looked at the clones. "And you three should avoid talking about the war."
"It's pretty obvious we're clones," Ripp said. "Going to be hard to talk our way around that."
"Hopefully, no one here's seen clones. You'll just be the Kohlis triplets."
"From your lips to the Force," Dune said.
The pitch of the ship's engines changed and a moment later, there was a gentle thump as it came to rest. Orn appeared in the doorway.
"Why don't you leave your carryalls where they are for now. We'll make introductions and find out where you're going to stay. They you can worry about luggage."
Asharé nodded and they all followed Orn to the exit hatch. Orn led the way down the landing ramp and the others followed with varying degrees of trepidation. Liri and Zaig clung to Kiri's hands as if he were their lifeline. Vash was in Hart's arms, his face buried in the medic's neck, while Binah carried Poli and Tana-Di held onto the Padawan's free hand. That left Ripp, Dune, and Asharé free to deal with anything that might come at them.
Not that Asharé expected anything untoward, but she could feel the clones' intense desire to be in control of something. Even in the midst of battle, with their brothers dying all around them, Dune, Ripp, and Hart were used to having some control over their destinies with their blasters in their hands. Now they were at the mercy of Orn, Midge, and whatever else fate decided to throw at them.
The air held a chill of a world not quite awakened from winter, and Asharé was glad she'd thought to get jackets for everyone. A group of about ten men waited for them on the group. A little further back a larger group of men, women, and children watched.
"Midge, you cranky little voorpak. Where are you?" Orn hollered.
A woman—Asharé judged her to be in her mid-forties—with grey streaks in her chestnut hair stepped out of the crowd.
"Who are you calling cranky, you Kowakian monkey-lizard."
Orn laughed and swept the woman, Midge, off her feet and into a hug.
Asharé grinned and looked up at Kiri. Voorpak? she mouthed at him.
The Wookiee chuffed with soft laughter.
The little carnivorous fluffballs were native to Naboo and kept as pets. Asharé saw little resemblance between a voorpak and the woman who was beating Orn—albeit without intent to harm—about the head and shoulders until he put her down. Unless you counted that both were smaller than the captain.
Once back on her feet, Midge face Asharé and her group. None of them had ventured more than a few steps away from the loading ramp.
"Orn, why don't you introduce me to your strays. They look terrified."
Asharé saw Ripp's spine straighten and his hands balled into fists. Before he could say anything, Hart put a hand on his shoulder and muttered something under his breath. Ripp's hands relaxed, but otherwise he stayed on alert.
Orn led Midge over. "Everyone, this is Midge Taen. She runs the spaceport and comm station around here and is generally in charge."
Midge shot him a sardonic look.
"Midge, this pretty Mirialan lady is Asharé, the Wookiee is Kiri, the blonde girl there is Binah and she's got Poli and Tana-Di with her. Kiri has Liri and Zaig, and Vash is the little guy trying not to be seen." Orn clapped Ripp on the shoulder. "And these fine lads are the Kohlis brothers; Ripp, Hart, and Dune. They're all refugees from the war and are looking for a place to start over."
Midge looked them over with eyes that Asharé was sure saw more than she let on. But she must have liked what she saw, because she nodded.
"Welcome to Zilmaris. We've got a couple of houses cleaned up for you, though they still need furnishing," Midge said.
Asharé felt something brush the edges of her senses. She turned toward the clones in time to catch movement from Dune's fingers, then he grimaced.
"That's very kind of you," Asharé said to Midge.
The colony leader looked the group over, her eyes lingering on the carryalls. "What did you bring in the way of belongings?" Midge asked.
"Just the basics; clothes and hygiene kits."
"Humph. Well, let me show you the houses." More twitches from the clones. "Then you can take a look at the general store to see if we have what you need." Midge gestured to Orn. "Orn here can pick up any supplies you need when he heads into the galaxy."
"Providing you can pay," Orn said with a wink.
"We make most of what we need right here," Midge carried on, ignoring Orn. "The adults will be expected to contribute to the community, and the younglings too, in time. We can't support freeloaders."
Asharé nodded. "We want to be a part of the community. We'll work hard."
She cast a glance at the clones, Kiri, and Binah, who all nodded.
Ripp tipped his head at her signaling that he needed to talk to her.
"Good. Follow me then." Midge started off into the town.
"Midge, darlin'," Orn called after her. "I'm going to borrow the boys to help me unload the Bastion."
"Send 'em along when you're done," the colony leader said.
"Um, just a second," Asharé called after Midge. She took Vash from Hart, then went to Ripp's side. "What's up?"
He looked abashed. "We . . . we don't want separate houses. Can't we all stay together?"
"Oh." Truth be told, she didn't want them to be separated either. "I can ask. But we might need to take different houses for a bit. We're guests for now. I don't want Midge to think we're ungrateful."
"We'll be alright in separate housing," Hart said.
It was clear from their auras that the clones were upset by the impending separation. Even Dune.
Asharé felt a rush of fondness for them. My vod'ikase, she thought affectionately.
"I'll see if there are any other options," she promised.
Ripp broke into a grin. Hart and Dune were more subtle about their gratitude.
More people were approaching from the town, mostly men. The port freight lift lowered with the first load of cargo.
[I'll say and help,] Kiri said, urging Liri and Zaig toward Asharé.
"Don't let Ripp start any fights," she teased.
"Hey! I heard that," Ripp said.
Asharé grinned at him as she walked with the younglings to where Midge and Binah waited.
Midge started into the town again. "We lost a few people to sickness during the winter, so we had a couple of vacant houses," she said. "We've thoroughly cleaned them, and Doc Eashir walked through with his bioscanner to make sure there's nothing lingering that will make you folks sick."
"That's very kind," Asharé said.
For herself, Kiri, and Binah, she wasn't worried about illness. They'd all been given inoculations before leaving on the trip to gather the younglings. She wasn't too worried about the clones either. The Kaminoans wouldn't have created an army that could easily get sick, especially since there were so many biospheres they could end up in on any given planet. But the younglings . . . She would have to inquire about having the doctor check on them and make sure they were immunized against anything Zilmaris might throw at them.
Asharé took a breath and steeled herself. "Not to sound ungrateful, because it sounds like you went to a lot of work on our behalf, but is there a house large enough for all of us? We've been through a lot together, and we're a little . . . hesitant to split up."
"How old are you, girl?" Midge asked, eyeing her sideways.
"Nineteen. Why?"
"You seem pretty young to be leading a gaggle of children around the galaxy."
I was sixteen when I was leading men into battle, she thought. Aloud, she said, "My master was killed while protecting two members of our group. Before he died, he tasked me with protecting all of them."
"Even the Wookiee?"
Asharé smiled. "Yes. Kiri is four days younger than I am."
"Huh."
On Asharé's left was a large building with the Aurebesh characters for 'general store' stenciled on it. There was also a diner and a public laundry. Down the middle of the town was a brown stretch of lawn with leafless trees and a dry fountain. She assumed it would be a lovely little park when spring fully arrived.
Midge stopped and pointed to a smallish blue house on the left. "That was the Cinn's place." She pointed to a whitewashed, slightly larger house across the square to the right. "That was the Blackmar's. I figured the men could take the Cinn's and you, the girl, and the younglings could take the Blackmar's."
Asharé wondered if Midge was deliberately ignoring her request for a single house. Or maybe there just wasn't one.
"Follow me," Midge said.
The colony leader took them to the last house in the town, then beyond. A road south out of town and into the surrounding forest.
"If you follow that road, you'll come to a clearing. The Loches lived there. The two brothers got married and moved into town, and their parents passed away this last winter. Neither son wanted the house so they cleared it out and it's been empty ever since. Not sure what shape it's in, but it's the biggest house on the planet, which isn't saying much."
"How far is it from town?" Asharé asked.
"'Bout a mile."
"And what's the weather like in the winter?"
"Cold. We had snow up to three feet this last season. Higher where it formed drifts"
Asharé could feel Binah's trepidation about being so far from town and the safety it provided, but she didn't say anything.
"Perhaps we should just stay in town for now," Asharé said. "But, if it's alright with you, could we look at the Loche house?"
"S'fine with me. But if you decide to take it, it'll be on your group to fix whatever needs fixing. Planting season's starting soon, and we can't spare anyone. Maybe in a few weeks . . ."
"Thank you," Asharé said.
Midge led them back to the whitewashed house and gave them a quick tour. A combined kitchen and great room dominated the front of the house. Refresher and three bedrooms at the back. There were beds in the bedrooms, a couch and chairs in the great room, and fresh food in the refrigeration unit. Binah pulled some of the food out and began putting together snacks for the younglings.
"The Cinn house is similar, but only two bedrooms," Midge said. "Get settled tonight and tomorrow we'll see about putting you to work. There's a crèche for younglings under six years run by some of the mothers, and a school for the older kids."
Asharé's heart was thudding painfully in her chest. For some inexplicable reason she'd thought they'd have more time to get settled. But it made sense that they'd need to integrate quickly into the community. They were very, very far from any world that could help them if anything went wrong, so self-sufficiency was essential.
"Thank you," she said again as she and Midge walked to the front door.
Midge fixed her with a look. "It might be easier to start the separation process now and just take the two houses. They'll all leave eventually anyway."
Asharé's chest tightened, but she kept her face smooth. "You think so?"
"I know so, girl. The bond you all share now is one of trauma and battle. Orn told me a little of your story. In a peaceful setting like Zilmaris, wounds can heal. Those brothers . . . they were bred for war. They'll always be killers, and they won't be happy here. They'll leave, probably sooner rather than later."
You don't give the clones enough credit, Asharé thought.
"And those younglings will grow up and want to have lives of their own," Midge continued. "In the end, you'll be alone, Jedi. Just like everyone else."
The Force whirled and rippled around the words, and a shadowed intuition crept up Asharé's spine. She dug her nails into her palms to keep from shivering. "You're probably right. So, shouldn't we enjoy the time we have together?"
"It's your choice," Midge said with a shrug. "Believe it or not, I'm just trying to save you some heartache."
"I'll take your words under consideration."
Midge shook her head. "No, you won't. Your mind's already made up. Just don't say I didn't warn you."
Did anyone catch the nod to Joss Whedon's Firefly in there? It was just a quick one liner.
Mirialan:
idarri - term of affection
Mando'a:
vode - brothers
al'verde - commander
vod'ikase - little brothers
tayli'bac - got it? (very aggressive)
meshgeroya - also called bolo-ball or limmie; a popular sport on many worlds