Author's Notes

Hello, everyone. Welcome to the first chapter of Into the Maelstrom in 2018. Sorry for being so late: some RL stuff got in the way, and I needed to change my routine a bit to avoid burning out. More news from my side at the end of this chapter.

For now, let's dive in.

Chapter 6

All Jedi Council meeting rooms were prisons, Revan decided. The one on Dantooine had been buried in the deepest part of the Conclave, and had he tried to escape from it, he would have had to murder his way through through dozens of Jedi who didn't know better. Even a series of Force Jumps wouldn't have helped, because everyone could throw spinning lightsabers. This room on Coruscant had windows, but he doubted they would be any easier to break through than walls. It was high up too, and he was sure the Temple had anti-air defenses.

"Mister Revan, are you listening?" asked Mace Windu. He looked like a statue, solemn and a bit surprised at his own ability to speak.

Revan said. "What's the point of me listening to the report if I was there?"

"You took one of our Masters to the bowels of Coruscant, I thought you'd be paying more attention."

Revan cocked his head, chuckled, and raised an eyebrow at Windu. "I didn't take anybody with me. He decided to follow me himself. You lot should be thanking me for giving Master Jinn some exercise."

He and Qui-Gon hadn't changed, and both their robes were torn in places and covered in grime. A murmur of indignation filled the chamber, but Revan didn't pay it any attention. He had already picked out the ones who mattered among the High Council: Yoda, Windu, and Jinn. Maybe Obi-Wan, if the kid gathered enough courage to speak up.

He felt a tug on his sleeve and saw Tabook giving him the look. Revan sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, but it's been a long day, and I need to get a shower and think on how I will pay back for this robe. Why the hell does everything in the lower levels of any planet have so much slime? Kashyyk, here, Nar Shaddaa—all slime."

Yoda's laugh was half-snort and half the sound of paper rustling on the wind. He hopped out of his chair, and the room went silent. He walked to the edge of the upper circle where the Council sat in their chairs. "In physical danger, Revan, you are not. Relax you should. Tension mistrust breeds."

Revan glanced at Tab who seemed perfectly fine. What the hell? The last out-of-control Council had tried to strip Tab of his connection to the Force. Kreia had dealt with those assholes, yes, but that didn't mean they were safe now.

Tab said, "No doubt you have questions and theories. We are wasting time with all this probing. Knight Ti gave you her report as did Master Jinn. I'm sure Master Dooku did so as well, and you must have data from the healing we received."

Yoda said, "Hear I would, what your goals are. Stability a single Temple to the Order brought has, yet new teachings heard of for the longest time we have not. Perhaps, ready you are, to share how taught you were, hm?"

Revan said, "What goals? We only wish to put our training to good use. We ask, however, not to be separated. As to our story . . . as you say, the Order is rigid in its views of what is acceptable and what is not. We would rather be judged by our actions than by the teachings of our Master. She was a . . . unique Master. Sometimes I don't feel safe in one room with Tab knowing that she taught him too."

Tab nodded without smiling. He said, "We'll tell you this. Our Master believed that there is danger in depending upon the Force in everything you do: in dropping your battle instincts completely in favor of precognition, in letting visions guide you instead of common sense. A lot of our lives have been spent learning from non-Force Sensitives. Even droids."

Ki-Adi-Mundi was a Cerean Jedi who looked like he was as full of himself as his oblong cranium was of brain tissue. He raised his nose even higher and said, "What you speak is a falsehood. Once we gain access to the Force, all that remains is to abandon the ego and give ourselves to it completely. Only in such a way can we be sure that our actions are the will of the Force and not the result of our own hubris. And such attachment as between you two is unacceptable among Jedi. Keeping you together would be inviting the Dark Side."

Revan stared at him. "With all due respect—which isn't much, I admit—get the facts before attacking people. Tab and I have a Force Bond woven into our techniques and our very minds—something our Master started and that we helped improve. Separating us is out of the question."

"Study this we should," said Yoda. "Force Bonds rare are. Unique yours sounds."

Revan asked, "Doesn't such a technique go against your teachings? It does create an attachment."

"Cultivated knowledge should be, unless of the darkest places it born is. Yours is not—simply misguided it sounds." Yoda thumped his stick on the floor. "Enough. Your status within the Order decided will be. Secrets many you have and dangerous you might be. Temporarily, the rank of Padawan upon both of you bestow I. Now how to test you, hm?"

Shaak Ti shuffled forward a step and, without looking up, said, "Masters, what about Padawan Secura and her Master? They haven't been responding for a month now."

###

They were free from scrutiny for the first time since their arrival on Coruscant, and Tab wanted to plan ahead. Revan wanted to find the best watering hole in the neighborhood and add to his extensive collection of bar hopping experiences. It took them an hour of changing levels and squeezing through maintenance tunnels to lose any possible minders from the Order. Then Revan refused to talk about business in the first two bars, and now the sun was setting, there were shots of something green and glowing in front of them, and Tab felt a pleasant warmth spread from his stomach and make everything wobbly. Revan got them a table with a terminal and was trying to hit keys accurately and often failing.

Revan said "This world is stu-u-upid. Thousands of years of supposed progress, right? Kriffing pacifist Jedi, bloated Republic, shit tiny military ships, and no sign of Sith anywhere. This is the most boring future ever. Well, at least, there are thirteen thousand three hundred and two registered bars on Coruscant. In the upper five levels. In this sector. Not that it helps in any way, because we are Padawans now—don't get me started on that." He shook his head. "Don't even need IDs. A thousand planetary governments, a thousand local databases."

Tab tore his eyes away from the shot in his hand and focused on his friend. "Tatooine. That's a place I never wanted to go to again. Visas hates the place—can't walk into a bar without ten drunkards hitting on her."

Revan had used their newly determined Jedi status to get entrance to the cantina for free, and now he continued blowing through what few credits they had coaxed out of the Temple—Tab was glad he had already bought supplies for the upcoming trip. Green drinks were replaced with something black and viscous, and a red Twi'lek guy waved to them from the other side of the bar. He looked smashed. The waiter who had brought the drinks said, "Death of the King, courtesy of the gentleman waving at you."

"He bought us these?" said Revan. He toasted in the air and downed the shot. "What a joke." Tab felt a pinprick of the Breath Control, which recycled the toxins in the blood using the Force. When Revan didn't even wince, the Twi'lek shuddered and returned to his own drinking. Revan continued, "And what are you talking about? Tatooine is awesome. I mean, Krait dragons alone . . ."

Tab was now scrolling through the registry of known planets, looking for Tatooine. "Well, the planet is still the same criminal pit it was, and if two Jedi stopped reporting a month ago, chances are they are dead." He switched off the terminal.

Revan said, "There are two things we must do long-term." He looked around their little corner. "I'm sure we weren't followed . . . anyway, we need to grow the Maelstrom to return home. But the Temple here is not what we are used to: it's old, bureaucratic and inefficient, but it's also rich, large, and extremely influential. Once they realize what we are doing, we'd be dead or, worse, captured."

"We could try reforming it," suggested Tab. "Will take some time, but it should be doable."

"Well, the Grandmaster doesn't have a metal bar up his ass, so that's a path. . . But I think what we need is a ship, credits, and a couple apprentices to strike out on our own. The Order is really strict on age requirements here, and the Jedi, weirdly enough, have their hands full with policing the Republic. If we hit backwater planets where the Jedi don't go, I bet we can find more people to join us."

Tab shook his head, "Revan, my friend, we are not at full power. And even if we were, fighting a whole Order, one backed by the Republic no less, would be suicide. Last time we were in a war, it was us who had the backing of the government, and that was a large part of why we won. I do not think we can afford to make enemies of the Jedi."

Revan shrugged. "Let's head back. And do not forget that there is darkness in this galaxy. If it comes to it, we can seek it out and ally ourselves with it. I bet the Sith or whoever they are would have nothing against us taking what we need for our plans as long as it doesn't hurt theirs."

Tab grimaced. "I hope we find some other way to get out of this dimension, because so far I see only options I'd rather avoid. And I worry for what Briana and Visas and everyone else are doing while we are gone. I would have expected some sort of communication by now. I hope they are fine."

While they walked back to the Temple, Tab thought. There was a reason why Jedi so easily Fell after trying the Dark Side just once. The solutions it provided were straightforward and often easiest. He was confident they could find the source of the darkness that overflowed the emptiness between stars. And securing an alliance with the Sith was the easiest thing: it was living with himself after that and not getting stabbed in the back that was the trick.

###

The Council had left the chamber, and Qui-Gon, Windu, Dooku, and Yoda relocated to Grandmaster's rooms. Qui-Gon saw it in his old Master: something was troubling Dooku, and he had an idea what. Yoda sat on a fluffy deep-blue cushion, set aside his walking stick, and took out of a cupboard an earth-brown tea set that he began to brew tea in.

"Grandmaster," said Master Dooku, "this isn't necessary."

"Nonsense," said Yoda. "Guest you are, and this way be it should." He didn't look up from the leaves he was sorting, picking out tiny branches. Grandmaster's chambers were spacious and austere, but they were littered with ancient knick-knacks: they were on the shelves and in the corners and one the window sill. "Your thoughts, hear I will."

Qui-Gon fiddled with his thumbs for a moment—a habit he had mostly gotten rid of. "There is darkness in Revan. After travelling with him through the bottom levels of Coruscant I am sure of it."

Yoda nodded. "Smart themselves they think." He chuckled in that half-snort way of his. "Not smart enough to fool this old Jedi. Master Dooku, quiet you are."

Dooku shook his head. "I'll leave sensing of their nature to you two. Even as a Padawan, Qui-Gon was better at perceiving the imprint sentients leave in the Force than I ever will. And you, Grandmaster, are the best at it." He bowed. "I must ask, however, what evidence is there against them in their actions except the obvious mistrust of us?"

Windu said, "It doesn't matter. If they are Dark, then they need to be contained or put down. The Padawans are too vulnerable to temptation to leave them near these two."

"Old friend, calm down you should. Here, take a cup of tea. A point Master Dooku has. Darkness I sense beyond all the bravado and evasion, but also Light." He folded his spindly fingers together. "So much Light. Fierce Revan and Tab are, and loyal. A way they have of isolating the Dark from the Light, to keep from going grey."

Qui-Gon shook his head, remembering his first Padawan. "Grey Jedi are a myth, Grandmaster Yoda. Sooner or later, everyone who has turned form the Light turns to the Dark."

Yoda chuckled again. "Old by standards of your species are you, Master Jinn, and yet so young. Seen many things I have. Left alone some Jedi wished to be. Lived in peace they with no philosophy to guide them. Grey were they. But these two are different: somehow both Light and Dark they are. Learn we should how that possible is. A great darkness I sense for our Order ahead, to combat it tools need we will."

###

Mace Windu was the one to give him and Revan the mission, and the man was as dour as ever. In fact, he looked so professional at being glum and pessimistic that Tab doubted he ever smiled. Maybe when the worst of his predictions proved true. There was a hint of something not entirely Light in the Jedi, but Tab didn't pry. Whatever it was, Windu had it under control.

"You will land on Tatooine," said Windu. "Since you idiotically refuse to tell us anything about your past, I'm forced to thank you for at least telling us you've been to the planet before. Knight Ti, I know you haven't had the privilege of fighting for your life on that smuggler-infested rock, so, Master Dooku, might you be so kind to refresh everyone's memory?"

Dooku said, "The last time I went to Tatooine was thirty years ago in pursuit of a Corellian criminal gang that wanted to flee beyond the reach of the Republic with several historic artifacts of their world. We didn't get much time to see the sights, but I can tell you the Jedi aren't welcome there and neither is anyone affiliated with the Republic."

Windu nodded and leaned forward, crowding in on them. Tab and Revan had gotten new Padawan robes, and now he felt like those first days after beginning his Jedi training. Or at least Windu treated him like it, with his intense eyes and bark-like speech. "Tatooine is a cesspool of criminal activity. It is a blight upon the galaxy and a trade hub for everything starting with slaves— Padawan Revan, what are you, five to flinch like that? Slavery is outlawed in the Republic, but it shouldn't surprise you that it's often practiced on worlds outside of our control. It's why what we do is so important: it gives the Republic the resources to combat this kind of injustice."

Revan said, "Really? And how long has this been going on Tatooine, and what has the Republic done about it?"

"Tatooine is tough, Padawan." Apparently, Windu took great pleasure in calling them by their new rank. With every word, the Jedi diminished the chances of a permanent alliance between the Order and them. He could feel the indignation through his connection with Revan. Meanwhile, Windu continued, "It is ruled by Hutt criminal lords and their syndicates. It's deplorable, but a lot of Republic worlds outsource what criminal activities they need to Tatooine to keep formally from violating the law. Some of the indentured servants here on Coruscant have been kidnapped, brought to Coruscant, and trained there. Some of the drugs the destitute here consume come from there. It's unfortunate," Windu said clicking his tongue, "that we don't have the resources to reform an entire planet, but there it is. Your job is not to fix Tatooine—it's to get the pair of Jedi who went there out of whatever mess they got themselves into. Padawan Aayla Secura and Master Quinlan Vos went to Tatooine to track down the source of a stream of low-quality drugs that appeared on Coruscant half a year ago. They mimic death sticks, but in addition to the usual already unpleasant effects, the toxins in them make addiction faster, and the body overloads with toxins just after three or five uses depending on the constitution of the individual. The uses are also prone to bursts of violence. What we got here on the plane was a name: the Whistler. Before the pair disappeared, they tracked him down to a base on the planet surface. I'm giving you the coordinates right now. Any questions?"

Revan said, "Tatooine is outside the Republic, so we won't be bound by Republic law there, correct?"

Windu said, "And this is precisely why you need chaperones. I wouldn't send you two on a mission at all—I would keep you training at the Temple for five or ten years before that. Master Dooku, would you be so kind?"

Dooku said, "Jedi are viewed as champions of the Republic. If not the letter of the law, then we must at least follow the principles on which Republic was founded. Equality, freedom, opportunity, and civil liberty."

Tab saw Revan start to say something, so he cut in before his friend antagonized Windu more. "How much freedom do we have to recover Padawan Secura or Quinlan Vos or their bodies?"

Windu gestured toward Dooku. "You are to follow Master Dooku's lead. Should you be separated, find a way to contact us. Do not start anything we won't be able to take back later unless it's absolutely necessary to save fellow Jedi lives. Even then, consider that the cause we serve means that survival must sometimes take a backseat to the well-being of civilians." He deliberated a moment and added. "You two may have persuaded the High Council to try to earn your trust, but if your actions get any Jedi of this Order killed, I will come for you. Personally. Is that understood?"

The darkness that Tab sensed under a mountain of Windu's self-discipline stirred, and he knew that Windu meant what he said. He also understood that the Master wasn't truly against them going on this mission, because he was quite convinced that had Windu dug his heels in, the Council would have subdued them or at least banished them from Temple grounds. Interesting.

###

Like most things created on Coruscant, Traveler's Hope was a mix of technologies and construction styles. It was a trade vessel, between a frigate and a cruiser in size. Its hull was dirt-brown and covered in dents and scrapes. The dock it had been kept in was rather dingy in Shaak Ti's opinion, and some of the workers were so covered in dirt and oil that she had a hard time placing their species.

She had never worked with Master Dooku before, not to mention Revan and Tab, so she had brought her painting supplies with her to help keep calm during the long flight. As almost always with such things, the part of the journey that took most time was the one that took less distance. They would travel most of the way down one of the busiest hyperspace lanes in the Republic, but then they would switch to a much worse chartered and regulated route leading to the Outer Rim and would have to bring their speed down to avoid accidents.

When they got aboard, Revan's eyes lit up and all his sarcasm was gone the minute Dooku admitted that he preferred to be flown by someone else. While Shaak Ti set her things down in a cabin of her own, she saw Revan run by four times, muttering specs of the hyperdrive or the processing power of the navcomputer to himself. She shook her head. Revan was trained in the Force, and he had about seventy pounds on her, so seeing him happy like a child was weird.

She set up her easel, her brushes and paints. She had picked thick oil ones for this trip, although she normally preferred watercolors: she didn't think water shortage would be a problem for them, but water was a prized commodity on Tatooine, Master Dooku had said, and they needed to treat it with respect down there. She unclipped her lightsaber from her belt, then thought better of it and put it back. With how Tab and Revan wore their robes, and how serene they seemed at times, it was easy to forget that they weren't Temple-trained, and until she learned more, she would expect anything from them.

There was a small common area a short distance behind the bridge. A rectangular table stood in the center: it might have been polished and white at some point, but by now the plastic had worn off in places, and the surface was covered in stains. Cupboards lined the walls. Master Dooku and Revan sat at the table, deep in conversation, while Tab opened and closed the cupboards while muttering to himself.

"Canned food, dry rations, dehydrated sausage, herbs fifteen years past the expiration date . . . fine, we'll use my tea then." He moved like someone who had spent his entire life aboard starships.

Master Dooku was saying, "So we use Force techniques as a way to reward Jedi for their progress, and, in large part, they are passed down from Master to Padawan. Lightsaber combat, telekinesis, reading and influencing emotions—all of that is taught to everybody."

Revan nodded, slowly. "And I assume you don't promote experimentation with Force Powers?"

Master Dooku shook his head. "It is too dangerous for anyone except the most seasoned Masters. A Padawan would get frustrated with the almost inevitable lack of progress, and that emotion may help them push past failure. Anger becomes a crutch, and it gets easier to use with every time."

"Here you go," said Tab and gave Shaak Ti a cup of tea.

It smelled of grass and herbs and plains and prey. She said, "Thank you." and sat at the table.

Tab got the dehydrated rations and put them into the rehydration chamber.

"But what about tweaking abilities that the Jedi already have?" asked Revan.

Master Dooku said, "If you provided an example . . ."

Revan took his cup and put it before Tab. There was some silent exchange, and Tab nodded. He reached for the cup with his hand, the robe sleeve slipped back a bit, and Shaak Ti was distracted for a moment how slender his limb looked next to Revan's darker and more muscular one. Tab's muscles looked like steel cables.

"This is a trick Revan taught me," said Tab.

"But he is better at it," said Revan.

Tab's fingers tensed as if he was piercing into the body of something and twisting. She could swear she felt the Force shiver and fold upon itself. Tea splashed out of the cup, and she stood up to get a cloth to wipe the table, but the liquid didn't fall—instead it spun in a lazy circle, droplets breaking and merging into larger spheres.

"We call it Force Whirlwind," said Tab. "It's a push combined with a pull and some imagination."

Shaak Ti leaned forward: this was the first time she saw Tab use a technique. The way he controlled the Force was superb: not a single droplet fell, and she could feel the steady pressure he exerted on the Force inside a cup.

"That is interesting," said Master Dooku. "And it could be useful in some circumstances, I suppose, but the scale—"

Revan said, "It's a combat technique. The trick is balancing pushing and pulling and adjusting for the weight and shape of what you are spinning. But if you are good enough, you can lock down an enemy completely."

Shaak Ti saw it now: Tab barely spent any energy on maintaining the technique. He smiled at her, nodded, and dropped the tea back into the cup with a flick of his wrist. It settled back and in a second steam was rising from the surface as if nothing had happened.

###

A few days into their travel, Tab and Revan watched Shaak Ti practicing Ataru. Tab shook his head. "Stop, Knight Ti. It's important to practice slowly and get the form down pat, but you also need to practice putting power behind your strikes or you will be second-guessing yourself during real combat. Here, let's practice together."

She frowned but nodded, and they began bouncing around the cargo hold like two rubber balls as was customary of Ataru. Tab was weaker than her, he knew, but he coated his emotions in the Light and wielded them as a weapon: he would use a burst of fear for his loved ones to escape an attack or a flash of anger at being trapped in this universe to strike harder.

She jumped back from him. "Stop. How are you avoiding everything I throw at you? I know you are better at Makashi, but your Ataru sucks. What? It really does."

She was breathing heavily, and there was a fire in her eyes, and he smiled. He said, "Good, that's it. Desire to win is a folly, yes, but the will to get better and to learn the exact limits of what we are capable of—that's what different between us. Not everything that gets blood pumping and speeds up reflexes leads to the Dark Side. Don't let your emotions control you, but when they do flare up, don't waste your focus on suppressing them. Ride them instead."

She frowned slightly, closed her eyes, and he let her emotions flow into the Force. He sighed. She opened her eyes. "That's still bullshit. Again."

###

They came for her in the night, intruding into her sleep, depriving Aayla of her last bit of freedom. She barely slept anymore, and when she did, she was plagued by nightmares, by hands holding her, by a parasite growing inside her, by Montar the Hutt laughing, by Ti'lar whistling. To her agitated mind, the click of a button was like thunder, and she sat up the moment the force field deactivated, just a second before the lights switched on. She stood up from the bed and looked at her toes.

Ti'lar came into her cell and looked her up and down. "Still sleeping in your clothes, sugar?" He grinned, flawless teeth sharp and ready to tear into flesh. "It won't help you if Montar gives the word again." He walked up and brushed her left cheek with the fingers of his right hand, and she clenched her teeth so hard she was surprised they didn't crack. Don't look up. Don't flinch back. Reaction excites them. Stay obedient and it will soon be over. "Tsk," he said. "Boring. Come on, the boss needs you to check out the captain of a pirate crew he wants to hire for a job. He is in a good modd, so if you'll be helpful, you might get something except gruel tomorrow.

He took her by the hand and let her into the hall. His touch burned on her skin, but she stuffed fear and revulsion down. Ti'lar would be handsome to unknowing eyes: muscular, with flawless deep-red skin, genetically a perfect example of her species. But appearance was the only thing good about him and inside he was a sack of black sadistic pus, oozing onto everyone around him, soiling them, soiling her . . . When Montar ordered to break her in, and Ti'lar had been the first to obey. She barely remembered the rest of them, but him: oh, she remembered the sticky skin, the sweat, the grunting and the painting and, above all, that overwhelming feeling of helpless humiliation and terror and guilt and rage. They had injected her Master with a paralytic and made him watch, and Montar the Hutt was laughing in the background, once coming up to hold her down with his slimy hands.

They were passing the door to her Master's cell now. Ti'lar flicked the lights in the cell on, and she saw Quinlan half-sitting in his bed, slumped against the wall, his eyes open, dull, staring into the distance, half-hidden behind greasy hair. There was a bit of drool hanging from the right corner of his mouth, and she felt rage bellow up inside of her. In the beginning, she had been reciting the Jedi Code when she felt overwhelmed, but now she found it hard to believe that there was peace anywhere anymore.

There was definitely emotion though. If only she had her lightsaber.

They brought her into a chamber hidden behind one of the walls of the main room of the mansion and left her alone. Somehow they had an idea of what drugs would make a Jedi useless, they knew that they had to keep her physically fit to an extent, they knew that she could sense emotion if she focused, and they knew that Master Vos was the more dangerous of the two of them, so they pumped him full of chemicals and tortured him when she refused to follow their orders. Aayla suspected that Montar was working with someone else-a mid-level Tatooine crime boss couldn't have all this knowledge.

But she didn't worry about mysteries anymore-she just needed to live and to let crystallize that vague notion of revenge she had.

Aayla sat in a chair next to the wall and looked into the hall. Montar was lying on his pedestal, a human and a Twi'lek girl on the floor next to him were giving him morsels of food. It was a power move, she knew: Montar despised the slovenly habits of his race, and for a slug he was surprisingly fast and strong. Before Montar stood a man in his forties. His hair was dark and messy. His short sleeves left corded, scarred hands visible.

Montar said, "How confident are you that your men can keep a secret?"

The man laughed. "How confident are you that you can afford us? Me and my boys—we are the most premium, excellent, A-class pirates you will find on this rock, my good sir. You affront me with your insinuations!"

Aayla breathed in and slowly breathed out. She tried to quiet her mind, but it was like trying to hold a lid on a boiling saucepan of snakes: images kept popping out and destroying any chance of her becoming focused enough to sense the pirate captain's emotions or thoughts. She abandoned her attempts after a minute and let her hate for her captors fill her.

This is how she knew she wouldn't get pregnant. She had filled her body with self-hate and ripped apart anything in her that was not of herself. She may have damaged something else. She didn't care.

Through the prism of her emotions, she could sense other sentients around her. Oh, how the captain hated the Hutt behind those smiles! He envied the crime lord and coveted everything Montar had. He looked Montar's slaves with lust. He was greedy and conniving, but she sensed no intention to betray Montar to anybody else: if he saw the opportunity, he would take the Hutt's business and life, but that would be true of everyone on Tatooine.

She picked up a transmitter from a crate to her right, and told Montar what she felt from her target—he always wore a hidden radio. After a minute. Ti'lar came in with two more men and led her back to her cell.

As they were walking back to her cell, she sensed something shift on the horizon, in her anger-filled connection with the Force.

She knew that soon she would get a chance to release her fury.

###

Revan hated Tatooine. He had almost died on this rock a couple times, so he had a respect for the inhospitable planet, but that respect didn't prevent him from coming here as rarely as possible. He made sure that the water flask was bundled safely inside his robes and patted down his companions.

"What do you think you are doing?" asked Shaak Ti.

"Oh, in the name of the Force . . . Tab, show her how to properly secure the water flask. You do not wear it on your belt here. The planet is choke-full of urchins and pickpockets who often can't afford clean water. And hide your lightsaber, Knight—bundle it up into your robes. No need to advertise."

Shaak Ti grimaced but let Tab show her how hide the water and the weapon so it wouldn't be immediately apparent where they were.

As soon as the airlock cycled, they were hit by scalding dry air, and when the doors opened, what felt like a bucket of sand hit their faces. Revan said, "This stuff gets everywhere. Mark my words, we'll be cleaning our clothes for weeks after this is over. Damn Tatooine."

"Welcome to Tatooine, Jewel of the Outer Rim!" a light-blue Rodian dressed in a dirty-brown robe waited for them down the ramp. He was flanked by two Gamorrean guards with heavy blasters on either side. "Oh, Jedi, how rare a sight! How long will you be staying?"

Tab had been resting for a while, so he was the one to walk up to the meeting party and give them a few peggats—the largest of Tatooine gold coins. "You are incredibly welcoming, but there are no Jedi here. Just a normal group of smugglers looking for a quick buck. Could you tell us what is the best cantina to get a job in these days?"

The Force twisted, and their eyes glazed over. The Rodian nodded mechanically and directed them to Hog's Guts a couple blocks away from the port. Revan focused, blew through most of his Force reserves, and a familiar blanket of a Force misdirection technique drew over them making their group boring and commonplace.

It was funny how his mind had erased the worst thing about Tatooine from memory—the smell. Water was used all over the Galaxy to keep clean, but desert worlds had none to spare. Revan had been to many such planets, but Tatooine was by far the worst, because it was a smugglers' hub, which meant that it was populated mainly by humans. And unlike reptile sentient species like Rodians or Trandoshans, humans weren't made for this kind of climate. And the planet's unofficial capital was the worst.

Mos Espa reeked of rot and unwashed human bodies.

The sun was starting to set by the time they had landed, and this was the busiest time of day, because you could easily fry an egg on a stone at noon. Everywhere he looked he saw traders and pirates and farmers—many bore vibro-blades or small blasters openly. Thugs serving the Hutt lords of Mos Espa walked the streets in groups of four or five, looking for easy prey, and he saw plenty of shifty types operating alone.

A kid in clothes that once had been white ran out of an alley, looking frantic, and tried to run past them. He tripped, and almost barreled into Revan, but he caught the boy by the scruff of his neck.

"Not bad," he said. "But you need to keep your hands to yourself until you collide—that way you won't get noticed."

Dooku looked disinterested, but Shaak Ti drew up, "Revan, surely, this boy didn't do anything . . ."

The boy joined her, "Please, mister, I am weak from hunger and heat, let me go, I need to get back home to look after my sick mother."

He looked at Revan with such sincere eyes that Revan almost believed him. His was dirty-blond—that is, he was blond under all the dirt—and the eyes were steel-grey. He was definitely underfed, but the holes in the clothes were expertly repaired, so he did have someone looking after him. Revan probed a bit, and his mind slipped off rudimentary defenses for a moment, before he got through.

"There is no mother," said Revan. "But my Togruta friend is right: I caught you before you did something stupid. Don't they teach urchins not to mark soldiers? What's your name, kid?"

He put the boy on the ground, and the moment he let go, the boy dropped the innocent act. He looked around, making sure nobody was paying attention to where they were standing on the side of the street, folded his arms over his chest, and smirked, "You ain't no soldiers. I don't see no holsters—those robes are tight. You have stuff there, but I know a blaster or a vibro-knife when I see one even if it's hidden." He examined the dirty nails of his left hand for a few seconds. "Name's Kine, and I have places to be."

He moved to get away, but Revan reached into one of the many hidden pockets he had added to the Temple robes during the trip and pulled out a small gold coin. "I'm Revan. And there's money in it for you, kid, if you agree: we need a guide who knows the city. Two wupiupi up front, four for every day on the job, ten at the end. Lead us into a trap and I'll kill you before you can get away."

The kid was somewhere between nine and eleven years old, but when Revan could tell by the thoughtful look that those eyes have seen a lot of pain along the way. Kine said, "Eight at the end of the day."

Revan said, "Twenty at the end of the job. I know how this works, kid, this place got nothing on Nar Shaddaa, and we spent plenty of time there. Someone is looking after you, training you. You guide us, and you help us, and we might even help whatever group you are running with, who knows? And help you get a bit more standing than a common pickpocket gets."

He felt an instinctive probe at the edge of his consciousness—Nike had some talent with the Force, he confirmed—and Revan pushed honesty at him to make him sure that the money was real as was the threat.

Nike said, "They would just take all your stuff for themselves anyway." He examined their clothes. "You look clean. Not from here, I guess. Throw in a shower at your ship, and I'll help you."

"Great," Revan clapped his hands and gave the kid two thing gold coins. Wupiupi was a bit more than one credit, and it could by a couple decent meals in the less reputable areas of Tatooine. "Now lead us where smugglers trade information around here—I've heard Hog's Head is good. We need to find someone."

End of Chapter Notes

The next chapter should be out in four or five weeks, so if you are not interested in my personal news and thoughts, feel free to skip what's ahead.

So, 2017 was a pretty good year for me, as in I got a lot of stuff done. I finished and released my first novel Beware of Light on Amazon, helped my mom finish renovations at her new place, got a new job and learned the ropes there, lost about 25 pounds of weight—it was a pretty good year, maybe the best.

It was also one of the worst years I've ever had. I had this idea that, maybe, I would have instant amazing success after publishing my first book, which, I suppose, all beginning authors have. Anyhow, at the height of my madness, I would read like 800k words worth of books and fanfiction in a week, I would work full-time, I would write my novel, and I would publish new chapters here. I was burning myself out and by the time my book came out in November, I was screwed. My head has its quirks that I'm not comfortable talking about, but I'll just say that neglecting my social life and my mental and physical health put me into a horrible place by the end of 2017.

So, in short, that's why this chapter took so long to come out. Now that I knew that it will lightly take a couple more years before my writing takes off, I needed to take a step back and put myself back into one piece: start sleeping and talking to people again, for one. I'm mostly fine now, and I feel like I'm in a better shape writing-wise too. Sorry if this chapter seems a bit wonky to you: it was written in wonky circumstances.

If you liked the chapter, leave favorite or a review on the way out: feedback helps authors, especially on bad days.

Stay shiny, and I'll see you in a month. If you don't want to wait that long, you can always hit my profile here and check out my other work.