The greatest man I ever knew once told me, 'Science is the search for absolutes in an ever-changing galaxy. Trust the Force and you'll always find the truth.'
There was the Force which was definite, then there was everything else: the absolute and the pursuit.
As a child of only five, I didn't understand what he meant, but I would never forget the message. You could say my life's work began then, in a beachside hut on a tiny island, listening to my Pop tell tales of impossible magic and the heroes who wielded it. He was a true believer and really important to the Church of the Force.
I was just a curious little girl who lived outside the Jude Sea on Andara, poking her nose where it didn't belong, and learning all the wrong lessons. Now, well, I'm not a little girl on Andara anymore.
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Data Log 11247 — Journal 0421
Dr Mary Au'Rona
"I wish you could see this—" My voice cracked as I spoke into the headset. "It's beautiful. We made it, buddy. Entering Ahch-To's atmosphere in 5…"
My hands flew across the control panel of the Corellian Engineering Corp HWK-290x, Republic designation the Converso, coordinating the sublight drives, grav flaps and inertia dampeners for the descent. The light freighter was from a time before the Galactic Empire took control of Corellia and changed their manufacturing priorities. The better armored and more customizable YT-line of freighters drove the "hawks" off the assembly lines.
In her heyday, the Converso was a gunship that ran trainees to the Imperial academies on Marleyvane and Lothal. Decades later her holding bay and computing systems were upgraded to better than state-of-the-art, but the guns haven't been used in years. They might not even be wired anymore.
The planet outside the sloped viewport looked like a growing marble of swirling blue, grey and white. The Converso breached atmosphere and rocketed through a lightning squall that buffeted the hull from every direction. I didn't need my scanners to see how hard the landing was going to be; more than three quarters of the planet was covered by hurricanes. I cut the power to the sublights to navigate the storm without overworking the systems. Finally beneath the canopy of clouds I swooped over a vast ocean toward my destination.
Nestled in the livable range of a dual-sun system outside the border of the Unknown Regions, Ahch-To is the only planet within hundreds of parsecs in any direction that is not scorched from pole to pole. Pretty but unremarkable for a great mystery lost to time, and the supposed birthplace of the most influential religion in the history of the Galaxy. Remote would be a kind way to explain the system's loneliness.
It took about an hour to find safe landing near the eastern spur of a mountain range on an island. It was a tough bit of flying to do alone; the landing was bumpy, but I managed. A few minutes later I was geared up for a rainy hike and descended the gangplank into the elements.
Endless layers of cloud cover blocked out the twin suns in the sky; dueling orbs of luminance filtered through an oppressive gray curtain. Waterfalls of rain flowed over the mountainside cracks and crevasses, down into the battered jungles below.
I climbed down off the ledge and picked my way down a gully, then made my way into the tree line. I hiked the verdant island all alone, but never truly felt lonely. It is hard to properly explain the feeling in a scientific journal because it had no measureable attributes to record.
Of course I tried, seeking out barometric, tectonic, magnetic, even sub-atomic scans for any illumination, but found nothing. By all scientific means, Ahch-To was an unremarkable place, but my heart knew better. I could hardly breathe, but the oxygen was clean and clear. It felt like the atmosphere was blocking my progress and adding gravity to my every step. Like chasing a dream I couldn't remember well: maddening and obtrusive, yet familiar, even comforting in its familiarity.
I pushed through for hours, but the feeling never relented.
I found and followed a time-worn path that cut inland. Enthralled by the natural beauty and resilience of the landscape, it took me longer to find the settlement than it should have. Smokey pillars snaking into the cloudy sky guided my path for the last mile or so. Half of the time I was ducking branches or scrambling over fallen logs, but still I managed to enter the village before sunsdown.
When I first saw the Lanai, I cannot explain why, but my first instinct was to make them like me. It was silly; even now I wonder what came over me. But seeing the little, upright fish-bird beings, with their expressive and eager eyes, nearly made me forget my purpose on Ach-To altogether.
And I think a part of me feared that if they did not like me they would not help me.
My anxiety must have shown because after a few minutes of nervously observing them like a tourist, a clutch of habit-draped Lanai came out to me and took me by the hand. They sort of waddled to and fro, swaying and chirping busily in their native language. Their tiny bird-legs limited their agility, but they were surprisingly spry. They led me into the largest of the many stacked-stone huts encircling the mountainside village.
They said they were the Caretakers. I smiled and nodded blankly, not letting on that I could understand them just yet. I was curious and nervous, but it was too early for me to lay all my cards on the holotable, so to speak.
My curiosity reached the first of many peaks when they sat me down in the center of the bare stone floor and told me to wait. I asked them in Basic if they could understand me, but they just bowed and waddled back out into the rain. I looked all around me and found that I was completely alone.
It was dark within, but some outside light spilled through the door hole. Spirals of stone fanned out to vent smoke through tiny cracks at the apex of the domed structure, while catching the rainwater and distributing it harmlessly back outside. There was an empty fire pit in front of me and a scattering of stools encircling. At the back of the round chamber stood a raised dais with dark cloths covering the floor and an altar draped in wreathes of vines and dried herbs.
I was a heartbeat away from crawling over to the platform when a line of Caretakers entered. They walked through one by one and placed firewood in the fire pit before taking a seat. About a dozen of them performed the ritual with their heads and eyes down. No one spoke; I stayed quiet to watch and wait and wonder.
When the anxiety of the silent crowd reached a head, two final Lanai entered together. There was a young one in a plain white habit and an elder in faded navy, wearing a belt of tan leather, and green beads looped over her head and around her waist. She did not bow her head as all the others had; rather, she gazed directly at me and stunned me still. Her emerald green eyes appeared as though they could perceive everything and more. I felt naked and a little afraid as she approached.
The matron placed her hands on either of my cheeks and pulled my face level with hers. She clucked her tongue with an air of judgment. Her inquisitive eyes flitted down to the necklace hanging over my cloak and then back again into my eyes. She clucked again, then released my face and continued walking.
Though she appeared unreadable, the rest of the commune was clearly at ease. The other Lanai were nodding to each other and to me, chittering in excited whispers, and of course watching the matron pass. The young one at her side escorted her to the dais and made sure she was comfortably seated. Then the little one placed a final log on the stack in the pit and quickly hustled out of the hut.
It seemed an inconsequential thing, but upon further inspection it was clear this final offering was different from the rest. The youngling left behind a petrified log streaked with a swirl of colors in the crystallized fibers of the wood. When she reappeared at the doorway, the little one had a blazing torch in her hand.
The matron clapped, her eyes glowing in the new torch light. The youngling approached cautiously, clearly aware of all the attention she earned. Another of the Lanai patted her on the back and chirped in reassurance. She took a deep breath then touched the fiery torch to the pit. The petrified log burst into brilliant white light, then tilted before it dropped into the pile and the fire roared to life.
The Lanai raised their hands and their voices to sing and cheer around the brilliant fire. I clapped and laughed along with them; it was quaint and exciting. I felt a flutter in my heart when I saw the flash. The smoke dissipated up through the stone, the flames dimmed, and the gathering grew silent and still. They waited for the matron, so did I.
"My name is Inaka-Shaah," she said in deliberate yet clear Basic.
"I am called Mary," I said back to her in their native tongue.
I expected to be laughed at for my pathetic attempt at their squawky, guttural vocalizing. But they only bowed and waited for Inaka-Shaah. She tilted her head toward me, nodded and began to speak in her language but with rudimentary pace and verbalism for my benefit, I'm sure.
Her hands swung this way and that, and her head bobbed to inflect where it was necessary. The smoke danced around her and gave physical form to her story. I was swept away by a legend she called: "The Rainmaker of Ahch-To."
'Mine is an ancient bloodline of Caretakers,' Inaka-Shaah said. 'It can be traced back to before the dawn of the Jedi. My foremothers were a different sort of Lanai. They were larger, stronger, and lived shorter lives. The Lanai changed as Ahch-To changed, always to maintain balance.
'Ahch-To was not born a world of oceans. In the beginning it was full of life. As the mothers say: "The Force flows through every living thing." In the time before the Jedi, this was a world of lush mountains and swampy valleys. The female Lanai made the first settlements here in the mountains where they learned to cultivate the earth.'
"Magnificent," I said and interrupted her story. The whole room offered me the same look. I immediately raised my hands in apology. Eventually, gradually, the matron continued.
'Balance is life on Ahch-To,' said Inaka-Shaah. 'Before the Jedi, life was very different. The female Lanai lived in commune apart from their male counterparts. The males were bigger and more brutal in every way. They were monstrous, brooding reptiles hunched over on all fours like scaled gorillas. They were defined by their violence and their pride.
'Savage and insatiable, the male Lanai evolved separate from us. The males inhabited the lowlands and the valleys where the waters pooled through the dry seasons. They grew confined by their great strength, forced to remain near plentiful water sources to survive. But when the rainy season flooded the lowlands they would unite for the reavings.'
"Reavings?!" I almost fell backward. "I apologize," I said as I bowed to the matron, "I do not think I understand."
'The rains would roll through the valleys and low plains,' Inaka-Shaah continued undeterred. 'For days and weeks and months, the skies would not relent. The males would follow the rising tides up into the mountains to invade the villages. The savages would pillage, rape and steal; the females could not resist them. When they were done, they'd move on to the next village, and the next. As many as they could before the rains ceased and the weather turned dry and inhospitable for the male hordes.'
My clothes were starting to dry, but her words sent a shiver up my spine nonetheless.
'And so we endured,' said Inaka-Shaah, waving her hand like she was throwing aside a veil. 'The suns returned to scorch the ground and the males would retreat to their swamps. My ancestors were left to rebuild in community and spirit. Each time they would build stronger, higher, and closer. We Lanai take great pride in the harsh beginnings our people endured.
'But when spring grew long into summer, and heavy hearts grew lighter, the little ones would come. The infants were joyous and filled the days with gladness. From the tragedy of the reavings came beauty and life, thus the balance of Ahch-To and the Lanai.'
"Before the Jedi," I intoned in her tongue.
'Yes,' Inaka-Shaah replied, with the hint of a smile and a sharp, knowing look. 'The Lanai believed there was no other way. That we females were meant for the reavings, just as the males were meant to be cast out of the villages as infants. Balance is never simple to attain. It requires sacrifice. We made our sacrifices, and knew no regret.
'It was during this time,' she said, and puffed up like a roosting hen, 'that a matron divulged a prophecy to her sisters throughout the villages. She is unnamed by history, but she shall be known as "the Ancient One" in this tale.
'The Ancient One had had a vision! She beheld as the Rainmaker fell from the clouds and walked amongst the Lanai as one of them. But then the suns came and changed the world with fire and flood. Many would burn and drown in his wake, but the survivors would be the chosen, blessed few.
'The eldwomen were concerned, while many others remained skeptical. This was neither the first nor the last prophecy the Ancient One made.' Inaka-Shaah leaned forward and, somehow the roaring fire pit appeared to dim. 'But they were wrong to doubt her.'
In unison, the gathered Lanai bobbed their heads up and down and mumbled. Then they started shaking as though it was practiced. I looked back at Inaka-Shaah and her eyes were mournful.
'Then the Prime came,' Inaka-Shaah said, and all became still. 'The first to come to our blessed world from the stars. He was tall, lean, fair, wise in equal measure with his inquisitiveness, and inherently good. You could forgive the Ancient One for believing he was the one from her vision.
'She wasted no time taking him in and showing him off to the rest of her sisters. Though skeptics questioned if luck was the same thing as providence, very few doubted that the Prime was special. Then the rains came,' Inaka-Shaah said, as a clap of thunder overhead imposed upon the hut.
'And with the rains came the reavings. This time the villages had the Prime to defend them. He was powerful,' Inaka-Shaah raised her voice, 'and quick. So fierce, and determined to foil the hordes. He even taught the females to defend themselves. The males went home defeated and wounded when the floods subsided and much celebration followed in the coming days.
'But the balance was broken.'
"It is hard to see the scales that weigh you," I replied.
'My ancestors took in the Prime with open eyes and hearts,' she nodded. 'He learned much about the mystery of the Force from our foremothers. The very foundation of the Jedi religion came from principles of natural life on ancient Ahch-To. No lesson was more important than learning how to seek answers from the Force. The powers of meditation—of the quiet mind—originated here, amongst my forbears.
'For a time, the Lanai of the villages shared their knowledge and imbued the Prime with wondrous powers. He traveled across our world seeking more knowledge— ' she paused and swept her gaze across the room, allowing her eyes to meet with each of her sisters in turn before coming to rest upon me. 'But all of that changed when he discovered our sacred trees.'
The Lanai began to weep; it was heartrending. I wanted to clutch them close and comfort them, but Inaka-Shaah merely tilted her head to freeze me where I sat, such was the gravity of her gaze.
'The Order of Caretakers was born on that day,' said Inaka-Shaah. 'They were the first sisters to help him mine the great mysteries within the mystical uneti trees. But as time passed, the Prime cut himself off from the Lanai society. All he ever required was more and more Caretakers. Those that entered his service were removed from society as well. They served him and his endless, mysterious query with slavish devotion.
'Concern grew among the eldwomen. The matrons came to the Prime and discovered his true plans, but far too late. The Prime transformed the sacred trees, the main conduit by which the Force flowed from the cosmos through Ach-To, into a beacon.
'He used all of his power to send out a call to the Galaxy, and then they came to him,' Inaka-Shaah raised her hands high over her head and closed her eyes as though she were facing the sun. 'The stars fell from the heavens and when one landed another disciple of the Prime was born. He took them in, from every world, race and tongue, and taught them our secrets.
'Before long, the name Lanai became lost behind the name Caretaker. No longer were we an ordained sisterhood devoted to a purpose: we were the servants to a growing religion. The Prime built holy temples and amplifying structures all across the surface of this world. At the height of his power, he had hundreds of Force-attuned trainees serving his goal of unlocking every aspect of the cosmic mystery.'
"And then the rains came," I said, and a gasp overcame the room. They looked at me with a mix of shock and approval that instantly filled my cheeks with a flush of warmth.
'Indeed,' Inaka-Shaah nodded and smiled. 'The rains came and would not end. For months the torrents poured and the valleys overflowed like never before. The males came again, but they were different. They were savage and feral as ever, but organized and vengeful.
'The first attacks were cruel as they were violent. None of the Lanai or the disciples survived. Fear had overcome Ahch-To. The males were out of balance. They valued their pride more than their lives, more than their species, or their world. The Prime had changed the terms of the battle, so the result was no longer within his control.'
"What did the Jedi do?" I whispered, dread nearly strangling me.
"Fire and flood." She spoke in Basic so it was clear. My stomach lurched.
'Many Jedi died,' she resumed her native tongue. 'But so many Lanai lives were lost that we never recovered. The Prime and his disciples left us behind and followed their destiny into the stars. The Caretakers found new purpose and regarded the holy places as the last hopes for this broken world. They would care for the conduits and trust that the Force would heal the land.
'The day the last Jedi left our world, the rains stopped and Ahch-To settled for a time.' She raised an arm and swept it before her waist like she was spreading seeds in a field. 'The oceans took over, and never abated. The lowlands were gone forever and the suns lost their luster. The dry season would never come again, only rains, and slowly Ahch-To receded beneath the tides.'
"But how have you… lived more," I still was no master of their language. She nodded graciously in understanding.
'Balance,' Inaka-Shaah said, and the ladies around her all nodded their heads emphatically. 'The Jedi were gone, but the Force endured. There were infants born of that fateful strife, and of those infants born, some were male. The surviving Lanai did something that had never been done in the thousands of generations that had come before them: They kept the males and raised them alongside their beloved daughters.
'The new males grew slight and tame,' Inaka-Shaah offered. 'Just like their sisters, they found a place in our society, and the Lanai changed. Balance,' she intoned, and the other Caretakers sang the word back to her together.
"Was the Ancient One right?" I asked in Basic while they rose to leave. "Was the Prime the Rainmaker? Was he the chosen one to change the world and your people's lives, or was he thief and a plague?"
"We are still here, sister, but we are changed," Inaka-Shaah said in Basic, with an air of resolution. Then she walked out of the hut with her young escort to hold her up.
I got back to the Converso and brought her into orbit around midnight local time, then began compiling this findings log. I went back into the recording and found the part that was most meaningful to my work. It was within my own wording: I called the Prime the "Chosen One" and it went unchallenged by the very sharp Inaka-Shaah.
My heart started pumping and my lungs rocked in and out like I was blowing up balloons. Had I found the answers I was looking for about the Jedi? A klaxon blared as the ship's computer notified me of a message, but I suppressed the flashing light. My mind was racing and I could not afford any distractions.
Ahch-To was changed and the Lanai with it: the Prime did that because a prophet had allowed him. Had the Prime weaponized their own prophecy against them? A visage of duality and strife; with no outright winners, only losers. How often was this the case, how many faces did this same story wear? Was the prophecy of the one who would bring balance to the Force the longest, most destructive plague in galactic history?
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