Chapter 21: The Desperate
Grey clouds billowed on the horizon. Though it was mid-afternoon, the middle-aged couple hurried to get home. Thunder, faint with distance, heralded the coming storm. Soon as the first bit of lightning sliced across the sky, the couple had decided to close their stall early. A shame, fresh produce had arrived a few days before which always guaranteed high sales. They'd already netted a sizable profit before deciding to ere on the side of caution.
Since they'd done so well the couple had agreed to take home two baskets worth of fruit. The produce would go bad in a few days anyway, and after a long hard shift, they deserved a treat.
As the first drops began to fall the couple quickened their steps. They winced as a clap of thunder peeled across the heavens. When they opened their eyes, they found themselves confronted by a man in full body armor. His 'T' shaped visor reflected the fear on the faces as realization dawned on them.
"The Mandalorian!" they gasped, turning to run. Wordlessly, their assailant raised a gauntlet. A three-pronged hook attached to a length of cable launched out snaring the man around the ankle. He crashed to the ground dropping the basket. His wife squealed in terror and rushed to his side. They both stared in terror as the armed mugger stood over them. He looked exactly as the rumors described; battle-scarred armor and wielding two blasters.
"P-please d-don't hurt us," the woman pleaded, eyeing the weapons that had yet to leave their holsters.
"H-here," the man blubbered holding out his wallet. A neat stack of credits lay within. "T-take it. It's all yours."
The Mandalorian's head tilted as he considered the offering. He knelt until he was eye level with the frightened couple. The man flinched as he reached forward, causing the woman to whimper. Ignoring them the warrior took hold of the baskets. With a flick of his wrist the hook and cabled retracted back into his gauntlet and he stood. Without so much as a backward glance, he left the couple alone in the street. The rain began its assault just as the thief disappeared around a corner. The man was so stunned he failed to realize he was getting drenched and was still holding his day's profits.
Despite the rain Karst was still busy working on the speeder when Jarek returned to the hovel they'd taken shelter in. Their home, such as it is, was a long-abandoned cottage with a scavenged section of canvas serving as a roof. The youth discreetly changed out of his armor before the old man came inside.
Wiping his hands on a rag Karst took his seat next to the jerry-rigged heater that kept them from freezing during the night. "Where did you get these?" he asked arching an eyebrow at the baskets Jarek dropped in front of him.
Eyes downcast Jarek started to head back outside. "What does it matter where they came from?"
Karst hummed skeptically, hefting a blue and purple striped fruit in his palm. "Pretty sure, Jogan isn't native to this planet." Jarek could feel his eyes drilling into him but refused to look back. He headed outside to take advantage of the downpour. It had been some time since he'd taken a shower and their shelter had no fresher.
Even after scrubbing down and wringing out his sweat sodden clothes, Jarek still felt unclean. Clenching a fist, he slammed it into a tree. A bitter-tasting rainfall dribbled down his cheeks.
The luxurious open-top speeder hummed down the road, its chromium finishing's catching the noonday sun. After adjusting the small holdout blaster beneath his tailored uniform, the driver swept a weather eye on the surrounding trees. Behind him, his employer was tallying up the stacks of credits next to him on a data-pad. He glanced back wondering if one of those stacks was his payroll. Private security wasn't cheap and with the increase in robberies lately, it wasn't uncommon for local elites to have at least one bodyguard on staff.
When had a backwater like Wayland suddenly become so interesting? It had known conflict during the Clone Wars, but those battles had always seemed so far removed from the kelp farms and trading posts. Suddenly with the arrival of the Empire came civilization and all the criminal elements with it.
The driver sighed and focused back on the road as they neared a blind turn. So long as he got paid the rest of the planet could keep on spinning.
"Karabast!" the driver cursed jerking the controls. The merchant yelped in surprise dropping his data-pad as he clung to his seat. The speeder fish-tailed before it slid to a halt before a downed tree. "Kriff me," the driver gasped before checking on his boss. Though shaken the merchant was no worse for wear. Stepping out of the speeder the driver examined the fallen tree that blocked most of the road. "Must've come down during the storm," he growled in annoyance. But hadn't the forestry service cleared this road?
A shout from the merchant had the driver going for his blaster, but he just as quickly aborted the action. "Damn my luck," he growled staring straight into the barrel of a pistol. Atop the tree trunk stood a man in full body armor. A second blaster was aimed directly at the merchant who was sniveling in his seat. Aiming down the sights was a helmet he was all too familiar with from the wanted posters popping up around the various settlements. "Really? Did you have to target my guy?" the driver asked rhetorically.
The Mandalorian responded by jerking his blaster at the credits next to the merchant. Despite trembling fingers, the driver's employer hastily gathered the currency and held it up. Holstering a blaster, the warrior took the money.
Taking advantage of the bandit's inattention, the driver started to reach for his holdout. He should've known better. The Mandalorian's blaster flashed once and the tree-branch next to the driver's head exploded in a shower of wood and leaves.
"Blast it, okay I get it!" he shouted in annoyance. Ever so carefully he tossed the holdout blaster away. It landed in the shrubs well out of arms reach.
The Mandalorian, if he really was one, fixed the driver with that disconcertingly blank visor. He wondered if the man behind the helmet was a local, perhaps even someone he knew. He had training, that much he could discern, but nothing akin to military or security. The bandit just knew his way around a blaster. What he did know is that men like him had a short half-life. Sooner or later their crimes always caught up with them. It was just bad luck the driver had to be one of his victims before that happened. As the Mandalorian turned to leave the driver spoke, "Enjoy it while it lasts." The Warrior paused. "Cause one day, you'll slip, and someone'll collect on that bounty." The visor focused on him for a long moment. It was all the driver could do not to look away.
The blaster barked again, and the driver hit the dirt. A second shot and the merchant landed next to him. Only once silence filled the forest did they finally raise their heads. The Mandalorian was long gone but had left a clear message behind. A single shot through the engine block guaranteed the luxury speeder wasn't going anywhere. The second particle bolt had fried the comm system.
A truly clear message: Someday I might be caught, but not today.
After fretting over his lost speeder, the merchant demanded to know what they were to do. The driver answered by retrieving his hold blaster and starting down the road towards the nearest settlement. It was only two kilometers and his boss could use the exercise. He couldn't help the wry chuckle that escaped his lips. "Kriff my Luck."
The last rays of sunlight were twinkling through the trees when Karst returned from his foraging. Entering the shelter, he found Jarek sitting next to the heater, working on his armor. The youth, taken to solemn silence as of late, barely acknowledged his arrival. Karst noted that besides the bags of food that had begun appearing as if by magic every few days, there were several new items present. Amongst them were the very tools Jarek used to patch and repair his beskar'gam.
Sighing in disappointment Karst sank onto his pallet after depositing his meager catch of herbs with the rest of the supplies. He pilfered a stray mija, yet another fruit not native to Wayland. Chewing on the mija Karst gestured to Jarek's task. "Nice to see you tending to that armor." The young man remained silent. Karst noticed how the off-color patches in the vest were expertly grafted on. The various blast damage had also been buffed out. "Where'd you get the money for the repairs?"
"Worked really hard," he stated in a low tone. Karst would've had to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to understand the hidden meaning behind the response. Don't…ask. Unfortunately, that had been the old man's undoing for the last several weeks. He'd been so focused on repairing the speeder and basic survival that he'd stopped questioning Jarek's actions. How had he allowed Myler's son to slip so far?
Because the dead can't live to fight again, and his antics kept you alive out here.
Sighing Karst tossed the mija pit outside. "I know we've had some difficult times lately." Jarek paused but his eyes remained downcast. Steeling himself Karst continued. "We've had to struggle just to get by, but it's nothing to be ashamed of." The old man pressed on ignoring how the riveter began shaking in Jarek's tense grip. The boy needed to hear what he had to say. "There is honor in leading a simple life."
Jarek scoffed so audibly it sounded like a cough. "There is no honor for Dar'Manda," he spat.
Wincing Karst glared into the heater. Even after so many years the title of 'outcast' still stung. But even as an outcast Karst had never resorted to petty theft. It was beneath them as both men and Mandalorians
"Jarek," Karst stared at the boy gesturing at all the stolen items around them, "this is not the way of the Mandalore!"
The beskar clattered to the ground. "The Way!?" Jarek was on his feet, fists clenched at his sides. "What way is that?" he demanded eyes wide with hurt and anger. "Where we sell ourselves out to aruetii like cheap whores? Or is it where we kill our own people?" He was shouting now, voice cracking under the strain. "Tell me, dearest uncle, what is the way?"
"Jarek," Karst sighed making a soothing gesture, "Even an Outcast can live a life worthy of a Mandalorian." Jarek shuddered and averted his gaze, knowing that the older mando was referring to Myler. His adoptive father, even as a Dar'Manda had tried every day to live a life worthy of the title Mandalorian. Had he not raised Jarek to do so as well? Unfortunately, Karst's point only served to stoke the young man's ire.
"I'm not sure that's even worth my time," Jarek said in a low voice.
"No, Jarek!" Karst shot to his feet and grabbed him by the shoulders. The low lamplight reflected off the youth's unshed tears. "You can't give in to despair," he said in as firm a voice as he could, without letting his desperation show. "Allow yourself to slip down that road and you surrender to your lowest instincts." Jarek continued to avoid making eye contact, but Karst would not be dissuaded. "In the darkest times, hope is something you give yourself." He pressed a hand to the boys pounding heart, "That is the meaning of inner strength. Myler understood this." Eyes filled with rage and despair, Jarek yanked himself away from the old man's grip. Karst didn't resist. Without a word, he stomped out of the shelter and into the twilight.
Sighing, Karst began cleaning up the tools and armor Jarek had left behind. Perhaps bringing up the kid's father had been a poor choice, but it was the only thing Karst could think of. He needed to snap the boy out of his fugue or risk losing him to the darkness. "I didn't nurse you back to health," he sighed preparing for bed, "just to watch you die, kid."
Dawn had broken by the time Jarek returned to the shelter. Karst sighed in relief. When he didn't return Karst had prepared to go search for him. By the looks of him the kid had been awake most of the night or slept in a tree. Either way, he was glad to have him back. He'd considered apologizing for what he said the night before but decided against it. Retracting his words would defeat their purpose.
Catching sight of the old man Jarek hesitated before walking over. Though he stood before Karst his eyes stayed down and he remained silent. A feeling of uncertainty filled the air between them. Karst was about to suggest they pack up and move on when the youth finally spoke. "Karst, I thought a lot about what you said."
"You did?" Relief filled the Mando's chest as he sighed. "Good." But…just as quickly as it came the relief evaporated into disbelief.
"It helped me realize…we have nothing to gain by traveling together." Karst's mouth fell agape as he struggled to comprehend what Jarek was saying. He tried to speak, but the young man forestalled him with a raised hand. "I need to find my own way." Without another word Jarek turned and began packing. Karst tried to find the words to stop him. His mind fumbled for some idea or thought that would convince Jarek to stay. But by the time Jarek had collected his armor and some supplies, Karst had come up empty.
One notion popped into Karst's mind, just and Jarek turned to depart. In one last act of altruism Karst gave him the speeder. "Its…not much, but the repairs and powercell should get you a fair distance." This time it was the old man who couldn't look Jarek in the eye. Throat tight, the young man accepted the parting gift with a nod. Minutes later the whine of the thrusters faded into the morning light, and Karst still stood staring after him. The boy hadn't even looked back.