Disclaimer: All rights belong to Disney, George Lucas, and all the men and women that created the Star Wars movies, books, and comics. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made. The cover art image belongs to peanutbutterroastedchestnuts. tumblr .com (remove the spaces)
Rating: T for violence, disturbing imagery, and dark themes
Author's Note: There's an odd shift here since last chapter, I know, but it will all be explained in the next chapter, so bear with me here.
Chapter 6
Western Reaches, Inner Rim, Unknown System 39 BBY
My head pounds, and my body aches as if I've walked up hundreds of steps. I can't remember what day it is. I can't remember where I am. For that matter, I can't remember anything after Naboo. I ask KZ-4 the date, and I'm surprised that two days have gone by.
And I have no recollection of where I had gone or what I had been doing.
I'm still strapped in the seat of my ship, a strange satchel sitting on the floor beside me. Digging through it, I find various broken Jedi and Sith tools, and a lightsaber I somehow know is in working condition. I place it on my belt before I open the cockpit, instantly shielding my eyes from the blinding sun and the sting of desert sand. Putting my arm down and squinting against the sun, I see nothing but dunes and dunes of sand. The sky is a wide blue area, made bigger by the lack of vegetation. My first thought is that I'm on Tatooine, but I realize that's not true when I see the Luggabeast approaching slowly, its owner an ugly Uthuthma that sways with the steps of the large steed. Tatooine doesn't have those.
"What am I doing here?" I question to KZ-4. He looks at me, shivers, and answers in a quiet set of beep boops. Usually he gives me attitude or extra information, but today he's right to the point and shy, as if he is trying to escape my notice. "So I crash landed here, okay. But what's wrong with you? I'm not going to sell you for extra rations." My droid doesn't reply, and I shrug it off. Maybe he just hates desert areas, or maybe he thinks I'm blaming him for crash landing us while I had been unconscious. Maybe that's why I don't remember anything. I had slept for two days. It doesn't feel like the right answer, though, and it doesn't explain why I feel so sore.
The Luggabeast and Uthuthma approach closer, within a few feet. The wind picks up my black robes, making the heavy material whip around me. It's way too hot to keep this on, and besides, we're in the middle of nowhere here. This one "sentient" being (he doesn't seem too intelligent to me) won't know I'm a Sith. Jakku is about as far from the civilized worlds as you can get. If you like sand but no water, come to Jakku. If you like scavenging metal from starship crashes for measly food portions, then Jakku is right for you!
The Uthuthma starts picking at my damaged ship, and I shout his way. "Hey! That's not your scrap." He turns to me and chatters in his language, which gets translated by my device as something along the lines of "I need the food!"
"Take me to the Niima Outpost and I'll make it worth your while," I promise him. His socket-eyed skull face tilts to the side as he considers my proposition, the chains on his neck rattling. Then he smiles, revealing the full glory of his toothy maw, and motions me forward. I nod my head at KZ-4 to follow us, and he trails behind at a safe distance. Something's up. He's never acted that way before.
The desert winds whip sand at high speeds all around us. I wish I had brought my robes because the angry sting of the sand punctures my skin. My long brown hair is going crazy, so I quickly braid it into a long rope down my back. It probably has a pound of sand in it, but hopefully I'm getting off this cursed planet soon. There's nothing here but scavengers, the Uthuthma, two incredibly strange beast species, and other sentient beings running from war or debt. It's a planet of smugglers and criminals, and I'm stuck here.
It's a few miles to the Outpost, but it only takes us a few hours. The sun is still high up in the air when we reach the edge of the ramshackle huts and tents, and I guess it is about noon, or a little after.
My Uthuthma guide and his Luggabeast stop, and he jumps off, his hand outstretched, waiting for my payment. Greedy little fellow, though if I lived on Jakku, I'd probably be greedy, too.
"I need a mechanic, first, and then I'll get you your week's worth of rations," I promise, a bit on edge. No one here would know my reputation, so I wouldn't be surprised if someone tried to jump me, thinking me an easy target. After all, the lightsaber on my belt is visible, and it would most likely sell for a high value.
The Uthuthma narrows his eyes in distrust but leads me through the maze of tents to where a Human man is. He has dark skin and black hair, and he's bouncing a young boy in his lap. Tools and engine parts are scattered everywhere, and there's a silhouette of a woman in a curtained-off area. She's probably his wife.
He looks up as I stand in the doorway, and his face grows solem. He puts the boy down and tells him to go to his mother before he approaches me. "What can I do for you?" he asks seriously. He eyes the lightsaber on my belt and instinctively takes a step back.
"My starship crashed a few miles that way," I say, pointing behind me. "It's too much for my droid to handle, and I need a mechanic. I've heard you're the one to go to."
"I've worked on many starships in my day," he replies slowly. "Are you a Jedi?"
"If I was a Jedi I would have messaged my buddies for help," I answer sarcastically before realizing I'd given too much away. If I'm not a Jedi, and I'm not connected to the users of the light side of the force, then who am I? If this man really is smart enough to be a mechanic, he probably is smart enough to guess that I'm not a good guy. "But that doesn't matter," I add. "I just need some help so I can get off of this sand bag."
He nods, still staring at my lightsaber. "As you can see, I have a family to support," he tells me. "I require high payment."
"I'll pay you what you ask," I answer impatiently. "Just let me finish with this Uthuthma and I'll come and meet you back here."
The Uthuthma leads me to a large vendors cart in the middle. It's manned by a huge alien species I have yet to encounter, but I soon realize he hands out dehydrated meal portions in exchange for things the scavengers find.
Rummaging through the small pack attacked to my belt, I'm at a loss for what I can trade him until I remember the extra lightsaber, which I pull off. This better worth something good, I think to myself, approaching the alien and offering up my treasure. He grabs it greedily, turns it over to examine, and flicks on. The strange yellow blade glows even in the bright sunlight. The trader looks back down at me. "This is Jedi?" he questions. I nod in response, and he ducks down to gather some things. "I will give you thirty meal portions," he answers, putting them on the counter. "And if you trade me the droid, I'll give you even more."
I glance back at KZ-4, who's rotating his dome head around as if shaking it "no." He's my buddy, the one who's been with me on all my whacko adventures, and I know I couldn't trade him for the world. "Sorry. Just the Jedi weapon."
I scoop up my trade items and am about to walk away when I hear the guy say, "Am I going to get killed for having this?"
"Nah," I answer, turning around. "It was scrapped and I fixed it up." Wait. How did I know that? I can't remember where I found it or even finding it. In fact, I can't remember anything.
"Please trade again here soon!" He calls to my back. Yeah, right. As if I'm going to be on this horrible dustbowl long enough to need to trade again.
Handing the Uthuthma guide ten of the packets, I save the rest for the mechanic. I know he'll probably want something more, but this is a start.
When I make it back to his tent, he has a speedster parked in front, bags of tools already slung on top. I enter the tent, dumping the food packets on a dusty table. "There's twenty of them," I inform him. "What else do you need?"
He pauses, looks at the portions, then back at me. "I will see how bad your ship is. It will depend."
"What's your name?" I question as he loads the last of his supplies on and he sits atop the vehicle. "I'm Zares," he answers. He revs the engine, and I pick up KZ-4 to put on the vehicle before getting on myself. We speed away, leaving the Niima Outpost in a cloud of dust, my droid wailing at the sudden change in speed. I hold onto him tight so he doesn't fall off.
We arrive at the starship in a few minutes, and Zares jumps off, going straight to inspect it. He tinkers around for a while, testing things and flipping switches. KZ-4 wheels right next to him, ready to hold a tool or assistant if need be. I swear, that droid likes anyone more than me. He'd probably buddy up to my old master if he decided to show up.
"How'd you end up here?" I ask, tired of staring into the endless dunes and brown sand. Usually I'm not the kind for idle conversation, but I'm bored, and something is nagging at my mind. Why can't I remember what I'd done for the last two days? Why does the force feel different? Why does my body pain me in such ways?
"My father owed a debt he couldn't pay," Zares answers, snapping a panel shut and moving to the next one. "He moved us here when I was a young kid. I've lived here my whole life, following in my father's footsteps as a mechanic. My wife, Xelia, crashed here, not unlike you. She and I met, and she decided to stay with me."
"Can't imagine why," I mutter. He hears and looks up, and I feel a little bad. Barely. "I mean, this place is a dump, not you. Why don't you return to the real world?"
He shrugs. "My life is here. I'm the best at what I do here, and if it wasn't for me, people like you would be stranded here forever."
I shudder at that thought and lean against the idle land speedster. "A few hours on this planet and I detest it. I can't imagine being here for the rest of my life. I'd probably throw myself off a cliff. Or be desperate to call the Jedi."
"Speaking of," he says, shifting to work on another area of the ship. "If you're not a Jedi, then what are you?" His voice is casual, but I suspect he knows the truth already.
"What's it to you?" I shoot back. "Do you really want to know?" No, he doesn't. I'm a murderer. My head suddenly lets out a pain flash, like a sudden migraine, and I wince, touching my fingers to my temple. Images flash by, too quickly for me to comprehend.
Does it have something to do with those lost days?
"How much longer will it take to fix?" I demand, on edge. I need to get back to the real world, back where I can ask questions and find out what I had been doing. I feel off, and mostly I feel sick, as if whatever I'd been doing had been unpleasurable.
"Not long," he answers. "You're lucky it wasn't damaged very badly. I think you'll be far away from here in an hour."
"Good," I grumble, taking my lightsaber off my belt and tossing the handle up and down in the air with the force. This planet is so boring I don't think I can take another minute of it, but an hour is bearable. The image of sand will forever be ingrained in my mind. Get it? In-grained, like grains of sand? Jeez, the sun here is really frying my brain. Maybe I'll melt and never have to worry about getting stranded on an awful planet ever again.
That last hour passes by like a herd of turtles in a mudswamp. I had long since put my lightsaber away and had grabbed my robes from the starship, huddling under them to hide from the sun and to try and take a nap. No naps happened, but at least my sunburn didn't worsen.
Finally Zares announces it's finished, and I hop up faster than any of my battle reflexes. "Yay!" I cry, then realize how childish it is. Seriously, I'm done with deserts and the hot sun. My next stop, wherever it may be, is going to have civilization. I'm going to blend in with my surroundings and go to some bar somewhere, and get some great alcohol.
Speaking of alcohol…"If you take us back to town with you I can finish your payment and get us some Knockback Nectar," I offer. Knockback Nectar is the most popular beverage in Jakku, made from lichen scraped off of buttes in the south. Sound gross, I know, but I've never tried it, and I'm an adventurous person.
Zares looks a little wary - I'm guessing he knows I'm a Sith at this point, and he's wise to be wary about a Sith offering a drink - but he eventually nods. Honestly, some alcohol would really be welcome. The uneasy feelings and brief glimpses of the fleeting memories from the past two days have been driving me crazy. And I'll treat him, too, since he did help me fix up my ship.
The ride back into town is quick, and Zares and I knock up a bar. After buying us both drinks with some Republic Credits I'd had on me, I give him small bag of the same coins. "I'm not sure how much you can use these on this place, but it might amount to something," I say. He thanks me and takes them, and I begin the long trek back to my starship, KZ-4 following closely now. He still seems on-edge, but it's not as bad as before.
It's dark by the time we get back to the ship, and I feel tired from the long hikes and relentless heat, but I'm ready to get of here. KZ-4 get us started, and we head off.
"Where should we go, KZ?" I ask. "I'm thinking somewhere with lots of people."
He beeps back a response. "Coruscant? Why not. Maybe we can pay our favorite Jedi a visit."
Outer Rim Territory, Unknown Sector, Anthan System, 50 BBY
For the first time in years, my parents call a family meeting. It's so unexpected and random that my siblings and I are mystified. What would possess them, after years of abandonment, to finally let us in the loop?
We all gather awkwardly in the parlor, the tension thick. My mother and father stand next to each other, their stances tense. My mother has dark bags under her eyes, and her head is lowered in defeat. There's a bruise on her arm, one in the shape of a hand. I'm pretty sure my father had given it to her when he'd grabbed her roughly during on of their arguments. My father stares at his feet, his expression strict and solemn. He looks up as we enter, and a shiver of fear runs through my body, even though I know the only person he's ever hurt physically is my mother. I guess I'm scared of his words, which I know are cruel and unforgiving. They could twist through my heart, tearing me apart harder than any physical pain.
"We're separating," he announces to us all, his words slicing through the tension. "You girls are moving with your mother. Xavier will stay with me." Through the corner of my eye, I see my brother tense up. He's two years older than me, and not any braver. The prospect of living with our father alone must terrify him. If would horrify me. I wouldn't do it. I'd rather die, because without my mother to beat upon, what's to stop him from turning his anger on Xavier?
"Why are you doing this?" my younger sister, Lillea, asks. I know what she's implying: for years you guys have fought, why only separate now?
"We've both been unfaithful," my father answers. Lillea doesn't know what that means, but Xavier and I do. They cheated on each other.
It disgusts me more than anything. Cheating is the worst thing you can do. When you marry someone, you're trusting that they'll stay faithful and loyal, and yet both of them had lied to each other, something I can't ever forgive. Lying and being disloyal is the worst thing a person can do. I can deal with my parents' neglect, and I can deal with their abandonment, but their lies are a whole other thing. Though I had been suspecting their sin for long, the way they never wore their wedding rings and always arrived home late at night, I never thought they'd openly admit it.
My father is weak for promising himself to my mother and then going off with another woman behind her back, and my mother is a coward for hiding behind another man now when she could have walked out years ago. They both disgust me, but mostly because I know I am just like them. I am a coward, and I am weak. I inherited both of their worst traits.
And not just me, but my siblings, too. Looking over at them, they stand as silently as I do, neither having the courage to say what's on their minds. Instead we turn and retreat back to our rooms, steeling ourselves for an even worse life.