Chapter 22: Simple Life
Even as the day melted away and the long night began Jarek didn't ease off the throttle. Rest was sacrificed upon the altar of speed and distance. Dense forests grew sparse and eventually faded only to be replaced by windswept grasslands. The gentle beams of the moons and stars were later chased away by the rays of another unforgiving sun.
He avoided the main roads. Even though his face wasn't known Jarek wanted as little contact with others. It was a hassle but a necessary one to avoid the risk of recognition. Unfortunately, this tactic diverted him away from many settlements where he could effectively resupply. Edible herbs and wild game were spare on the grasslands and his appetite quickly suffered. As his food and water dwindled Jarek realized a choice had to be made.
On his fifth rotation…or was it the sixth?
Rubbing his eyes, Jarek acknowledged the all-nighters were taking a toll. With stims no longer having an effect, his desire to keep moving was being superseded by the need to rest and restock. His journey would mean little if he died of hunger. He'd also be damned if his story ended due to sleep deprivation.
It was mid-afternoon of the…sixth rotation when he came across a free-flowing creek. The speeder coasted to a halt as he eased off the accelerator. Grabbing his canteen, the young man headed for the water's edge. Barely two steps later and he was brought up short by the smell of cooking food wafting on the breeze. Looking for the source he discovered two people sitting next to a small campfire. A pot sat next to the blaze, its simmering contents drawing a rumble from Jarek's stomach.
Swallowing Jarek started toward the campsite, his hand sliding to the blaster at his hip. Eyes narrowed greedily upon the food. Saliva filled his mouth in eager anticipation.
"How's he kicking?" a man asked kneeling next to his companion. Jarek couldn't make out either of their faces as they sat with their backs to him. Easy pickings, his instincts decided.
A feminine chuckle stopped Jarek in his tracks. "Like an orbaks that doesn't want to be shoed," declared the other person. The man shared in the woman's laugh and placed a hand on her swollen belly.
As his stomach clenched painfully Jarek's fingers twitched around the pistol grip. How long since his last meal? Looking at the couple who as of yet hadn't noticed him, Jarek's heart warred with his appetite. Gritting his teeth and with great reluctance, he turned away. Filling his canteen, he marched back to the speeder and took off. A pair of curious eyes followed him, but Jarek ignored them along with the gnawing hunger. Fixing his eyes ahead Jarek decided it hadn't been long enough for that.
A moonless night passed and by dawn, his freshly filled canteen began running low. Fatigue crawled at his eyes and it was all he could do to focus on the road ahead. The only thing preventing sleep from claiming him was the constant ache in his empty gut.
With a groan his will finally relented. He needed supplies, but more than that he needed proper sleep. He could only hope his dreams would be kinder to him then the road.
The settlement, he hadn't bothered to read the name, was little more than a dozen buildings occupying a crossroads. A water tower sat in the center of a small market with only a couple open stalls. His speeder whined to a halt at the only vendor that looked as if it sold the supplies he needed. Unfortunately, it sat across the lane from one of the few places he'd hoped to avoid. A small structure with secure doors and windows, marked by an Imperial Security crest. Sitting outside were four men wearing dusters, armed with blasters, stun batons, and each boasting shiny new badges. Their conversation paused long enough to watch him, get bored, and go back to what they were doing.
On the notice board outside the Security Office, he noticed a wanted poster with a man in ragged Mando gear. The words Wanted; assault, battery, and theft were emblazed in bright read aurebesh lettering along with Reward: 1,000 Credits. Ignoring the nervous lump in his throat Jarek kept his gaze down.
The vendor glanced up as the haggard-looking youth approached. "Could I get some water and a fresh powercell for the speeder?" he asked, his raspy voice cracking. As his stomach gave a slight growl he added, "You have anything hot to eat?" The vendor nodded before inquiring as to his method of payment. Jarek presented what few credits he had left.
The vendor grimaced at the handful of low-quality creds. "Not enough here for a powercell," he said apologetically "Should cover the meal and water."
Leaving his loot behind had been made on an impulse, but when faced with his newfound poverty, he was beginning to question the choice. Jarek sighed. There was no point dwelling on it now. Without a charged powercell he'd end up stranded after only a few more kilometers. But that wouldn't matter if he starved. With a slight incline of his head, Jarek slid the currency across the counter. Taking the payment, the vendor disappeared into the shadows of his store.
As he waited, Jarek noticed a pair of kids huddling behind some nearby crates. They were giggling and pointing, but not at Jarek. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the smaller of the duo point in the direction of the security office. The other kid, a scrawny dark-haired boy hefted a tan sphere before tossing it. Both kids disappear a split second before Jarek heard a soft crack immediately followed by a shout of outrage.
"Hey!" Jarek turned slightly to see four pairs of eyes glaring at him. He tensed as the security officers strode across the road. As they drew closer, he saw one of the men had yellow liquid dribbling down the left side of his head. Next to him the tallest of the four wore a more ornate badge. A Marshal's badge, meaning the other three were his deputies. "You throwing eggs at us, outlander?" he asked glaring in unbridled accusation.
Jarek did his best to remain calm, mentally forcing himself to keep his expression neutral. He briefly considered ratting out the kids, but he doubted the Marshal would believe him. Just the same he was too tired to explain. Instead he responded with a flat, "No."
The Marshal's shrewd eyes narrowed. "You see who did throw it?"
Turning fully to face the men, Jarek's hand instinctively came to rest on his blaster. The move did not go unnoticed. "No," he stated in a firmer tone of voice.
"That your favorite word, 'No'?" One of the deputies chimed in. Jarek remained silent, his eyes never leaving the Marshal's.
"Egg had to come from somewhere," the senior Lawman growled his finger tapping the handle of his stun baton.
Fighting the urge to roll his eyes Jarek suggested in a dry tone, "Maybe a bird flew over." One of the deputies chuckled. As the Marshal's head whipped around the laughter was hastily choked off.
About that time the vendor returned depositing the food and water on the counter. Both were held in a travel container, a polite hint from the vendor that Jarek needed to move on. The young man didn't need to be told twice. He was just reaching for it when the Marshal and one of his men brushed him aside and snatched them up. "Thanks for your donation," the Marshal growled with a wolf-like grin, "The Empire appreciates your support." Jarek's jaw tightened against the scathing insults that yearned to escape. It was a conscious effort to pull his hands away from his weapons.
As the Marshal and his deputies started to leave he turned back and scowled. "You better leave town." His voice lowered to a threatening rumble. "Penalty for loitering's a lot steeper than you can afford, outlander." He gently tapped the body of his blaster for emphasis, "I have that feeling." As the lawmen walked away the youth forced his back teeth to unclench, but he couldn't take his eyes off the back of the Marshal's head. Memories of an arrogant pilot flashed through his mind and muscles.
Sighing the vendor returned the credits to the counter. Through his annoyance, Jarek managed a grateful nod before repocketing them. The vendor jerked his chin at the notice board. "The marshals are supposed to protect us from bandits like the Mando," he said once the lawmen were out of earshot. "But they're no better."
Jarek tried not to flinch at the mention of his wanted poster. Instead, he allowed himself a moment to glare after the lawmen and imagine the painful way he might retrieve his food and water. Marshal or no, you don't take what's mine. Wordlessly he turned to mount his speeder. He'd park it outside of town and come back after dark. The powercell could wait, but Jarek paid for a meal and he would get it one way or another.
"Ya didn't rat me out. Thanks," Jarek blinked in surprise to find the dark-headed kid from earlier sitting in the driver's seat of his speeder. Up close he figured the boy to be about ten cycles old: all knees and elbows and lacking good sense. As the youth continued to stare, the boy seemed to finally realize his presumption and hopped out of the vehicle.
Jarek kept his annoyance to a low mumble before cranking the engine. He decided not to tell the kid his choice wasn't out of a sense of selflessness. It would've been a waste of his time to explain anything to the lawman. Whether he ratted out the kid or not he doubted the Marshal was the type to not take advantage of strangers to what he perceived to be his town. Little men always like throwing their weight around.
The speeder was about to pull away when Jarek realized the boy was still standing nearby. Feet shuffling in the dirt he smiled up at the youth. The kid took Jarek's arched eyebrow as his cue to speak. "I owe ya food. I'll take ya to my home." Jarek stared at the kid unsure how to respond. He was about to decline the offer in favor of his previous plans when he added, "We can even recharge yer powercell for ya." The amended offer caused Jarek's hand to pause inches from the throttle. "C'mon I owe ya," the boy insisted. As Jarek's stomach growled audibly the kid flashed a toothy grin
The boy-Len-directed Jarek to his family's home just outside of the town. The moment they came within sight of the house, Jarek's senses were assault by the smells associated with domesticated wildlife and their biproducts. His family was small-scale farmers with a pasture filled with miniature shaak and two-legged nuna. Ignoring the animals challenging squeals and bleats, Jarek wondered how each of the critters would taste roasted or grilled.
As they parked the speeder a man about Myler's age, but far more weather-worn walked out of the barn, toolbox in hand. A woman a bit younger, but equally worn stepped out of the house. Despite the age difference, Jarek could see a familial resemblance between the three. The man gave the boy a hard glare, before eyeing Jarek and his blasters suspiciously.
"Yer a friend of Lens?" the father asked.
Jarek shifted nervously beneath the man's scrutiny. "After a fashion," Jarek replied not knowing how else to describe his brief acquaintance with the child.
"This guy just stood up to the Marshal and his goons," Lee exclaimed punctuating his story with broad gestures, "by the end, he practically had them running away." Jarek's jaw clenched. He wasn't sure if he'd call what he did 'standing up to them' and the men certainly didn't run away. If anything, Jarek was the one who got run roughshod over. The man must've seen Jarek's flush of embarrassment and gave him a knowing look.
"Ya have a name?" the woman asked. Up close she came across as homely but with a nice smile. The maternal air about her reminded Jarek of Jilo. His heart twisted at the notion and he quickly clamped the emotions down before they bubbled to the surface.
"I'm, uh…Jaegar," he answered adding a slight bow by way of greeting. Smiling pleasantly the woman introduced herself as Shai and the man as her husband Genry.
"Well," the man said, his expression softening, "anyone who can hold his own against those ingrates is welcome here." Shai's face grew sad as a flash of anger crossed the man's face. Len looked forlornly up at his parents and Genry placed a consoling hand on Shai's shoulder. "Those men should be ashamed to wear Imperial uniforms."
Touching her husband's hand Shai met Jarek's eyes. "The real soldiers are off fighting the Separatist holdouts, like Len's older brother, Sen." Jarek didn't know what to say, feeling a bit out of place amongst the family's strife. It felt like he'd walked into the middle of an emotional minefield. Perhaps sensing his unease Shai offered him another smile. "Supper's going to be ready soon," she said gesturing to the house, "Would ya like to stay?"
Despite the discomfort of his empty stomach, Jarek couldn't shake the feeling he was someplace he didn't belong. Besides, the Marshal had his supplies and he stilled aimed to get them back. "I… can't," he said causing all three to look at him in confusion. "If it's alright I'd like to recharge my power-cell and be on my way."
Len looked disappointed. The adults exchanged knowing looks before Genry smiled down at his wife and nodded. Smiling Shai explained, "Genry could use some help on the barn." Jarek blinked at the suggestion. "Why don't ya two work for a while, and then we'll eat?"
Jarek found himself nodding in agreement despite his unease. Somehow the idea of working and earning his keep held great appeal. Minutes later he found himself atop the barn replacing damaged shingles. As he worked the spanner and driver he felt a sense of peace he hadn't known for some time. In a way, it reminded him of how every day at his father's dwelling they had to earn their meals and resources. Bitter memories of better times.
As Genry and Jarek worked, Len stood by assisting when he could. Mainly he wanted to stand around and ply Jarek with questions. "Yer not from around here, are ya?" Jarek shook his head doing his best to focus on his work. "Where are ya from, then?"
"Far away," he said, doing his best to not sound dismissive while really wishing the kid would mind his own business.
"Where are ya going?"
"Far away," Jarek repeated suppressing a growl as he worked a particularly stubborn bolt.
"Len, be still." Genry snapped, pausing in his own work to chastise his son, "Ya shouldn't ask so many personal questions of the man."
Len sighed, falling silent. Relieved Jarek went back to his task. He'd just started getting back into a rhythm when the boy's tact deserted him entirely. "So, how'd ya get those scars?" Jarek's hand slipped, smashing his finger between the roof and spanner. He barely managed to muffle his curse and look of annoyance. With the sun beating down, Jarek's clothes had become saturated with sweat. He'd stripped down to his undershirt forgetting that while no longer bandaged his scars were still fresh and obvious.
"Len!" Genry shouted causing both to jump. He stared down at his son. "It's not polite to bother people about things they might not want to talk about." He gave Jarek an apologetic look before adding, "A man's past is his own business." With that, he returned to the work at hand. If he'd seen Jarek's scars, he gave no indication he cared about where he got them.
The boy had the decency to look ashamed. Jarek couldn't help but feel bad for him. He was only being curious after all. The farm and town were so far removed that anything new must've been a fascinating experience. Growing up in an isolated part of the Embrace, Jarek understood the feeling. Just the same, Jarek had no desire to revisit the memories by explaining the origins of his scars. Those moments were reserved for his restless nights.