Chapter 5:
I had never witnessed the majesty of lightspeed travel before that moment, and what I saw forced me to drop my guard. The pilot didn't notice. The stars turned into streaming comets as the shuttle attained lightspeed, and then the tunnel opened up before us like storm clouds encompassing the entire ship, like a sea of smoky blue. I pried my eyes away from the view and walked backwards to the rear of the shuttle, keeping the blaster trained on the pilot, grabbed the downed officer by his uniform collar, and drug him to the front of the ship. I brought the unconscious officer's wrists up to the pilots face.
The pilot nodded. A smart one was he. From a compartment in the wall of the shuttle, the pilot fetched a pair of binders and attached them to the wrists of the officer. I pushed the unconscious officer towards the wall, and from the same compartment I grabbed another set of binders. I tossed them to the pilot and pointed the blaster at his face. Like the good learner that he was, he fastened them to his wrists. I grabbed him by his throat and forced him into the co-pilot's chair. I sat in the pilot's chair. The exhaustion from all that had happened overwhelmed me. I looked at my blood-caked hands again. I then pointed at the hyperspace tunnel as it swirled in hues of blue, white, and purple around the ship, carrying us across the galaxy.
"How long to Tatooine?" I roared. The pilot furrowed his brow and thought for a moment.
"We will be in the Tatooine system in a few hours." I nodded and looked at the floor, and then aimlessly around the cargo bay of the shuttle, as if the clarity to my confusion hid in the dark. Then something caught my eye. In the far corner of the ship wedged at the seam of the bay doors, gleaming like a jewel, sitting safely in the crevice where the door meets the hull sat a lightsaber splattered with blood. Gethzerion's lightsaber! Wide-eyed and awestruck, I went to it and picked up the artifact, and rolled Gethzerion's weapon in my hands examining every aspect of it.
Save for the blood that dulled patches of its polished surface, the metal caught every bit of light within the ship like a mirror. A black grip encircled the handle throughout the middle. A small clip and three pressure pads sat just under the hilt. I tried to wipe the blood off of it with my hands, but only smeared it. The fur on my hands matted, and sticking together like a neglected paintbrush, only added to the tarnish.
How did this get here? Did she do this? Was this a part of her plan? I shook my head in disbelief, and clipped the lightsaber to the fur on my waist. What will I do now that Gethzerion is gone? I asked myself. I looked at my Imperial hostages. The adept pilot returned my gaze with one of contempt. What am I going to do with these two?
I walked back to the pilot's chair. I pointed at the pilot, and then jabbed my finger at the co-pilot's chair. Quick to guess my desires, he switched seats, and then sat down with his hands set in his lap. I gestured to the controls, sticking the gun into his face.
"Show me how to work this thing!" I hollered at him, which only sounded like unintelligible growls and barks to his ears. I pointed at the console, grabbed the control stick, and pointed out the windshield, trying to make him understand.
He squinted his eyes for a moment, and a sudden glimpse of realization swept over him. He shook his head, as if a child had asked him.
"You aren't going to make it past the patrols. The prison will have informed battalion of what you have done..." I hit him in the forehead with the muzzle of the blaster leaving a welt that immediately began bleed. He groaned and rubbed his head, and regained his stance in the chair, hatred flashing in his eyes.
"No wonder you things have been enslaved," he said with gritted teeth.
It was almost impossible for me to control myself amidst the worm's taunts. I roared at him, an actual roar, and bared my claws at his throat.
"Shut your damn mouth or I'll rip your head from your body!" I yelled. He seemed to take pleasure in my anger. He smiled, and was obviously satisfied that he could get such a rise out of me. The solution to one of my problems came to mind in that instant. I pointed the blaster at the unconscious Imperial leaning against the wall. I pulled the trigger, and sent a bolt ripping through his head, scoring the wall behind him. The Imperial convulsed as his body screamed for air for a few moments, and then he went still. The pilot looked on in horror. I returned the blaster to the pilot's head. His courage gone, a straight-mouthed look of fear replaced the smile on his face. He didn't even flinch when the salty sweat dripped down his forehead and passed over his wound.
"This is the sub-light throttle…" He began my crash course training by pointing to a lever just in front of him.
**********
Several hours passed, and I was just beginning to grasp a very basic understanding of how to operate the Imperial shuttle. The blaster I kept pointed at him turned out to be powerful motivator, as was the corpse of perhaps a friend, or maybe even a brother of his. I didn't care at the time. The Imperial pilot actually could have been mistaken for a professional instructor. He had grown calm and spoke to me like an avid student. Had I not hated him, and wanted to kill him, we might have been friends in another time. That ridiculous thought made me giggle. To him it probably sounded like I had something caught in my throat.
"We are nearing our destination. I am going to have to send authorization codes, but they hardly ever request visual confirmation. You better hope they don't know about you," he added in a spiteful tone as we approached our destination. I ignored him, and watched the Imperial space station as it orbited the unusually bright planet, like a sun, come into view.
"Shuttle Alpha 1-1, sending authorization," the Imperial pilot said over the radio.
"Transmitting," crackled an unknown voice in response. A few moments passed, I inched the blaster closer to the pilot's head ready to kill him should he utter anything more than was necessary.
"Authorization confirmed, proceed to landing bay 491, Mos Eisley."
"Affirmative." The pilot cut the radio off with a flick of a switch, and began our descent. Just as quickly we had ascended out of the atmosphere of Dathomir, we descended into the atmosphere of Tatooine. That was the only similarity. The contrasts between the two planets were stark. Dathomir seemed locked in a perpetual state of storm, or near storm. Tatooine instead was a vision-blurring, bleached-white wasteland covered as much in sand as swathed in sunlight. Not since Kashyyyk had I seen so much sunlight. I knew little of Tatooine. Its twin suns had turned the planet into an unending desert. I also knew that it was under tenuous Imperial control.
As we reached the lower atmosphere, amongst the hordes of people, I could see Imperial Stormtroopers dotting the surface, usually in groups of two. The pilot spun the ship on its axis and descended towards a decrepit-looking landing bay marked with the fading black-painted numbers 491. It looked like some kind of mud house structure, no flooring, only dirt. Trash and discarded cargo crates scattered about. The shuttle touched down with a gentle thud. The pilot eased back the throttle and disengaged the engines, then powered down the craft to silence. Only a few lights remained lit on the dash, and then a cargo light came on illuminating the entire interior of the ship.
"My superiors are already going to be suspicious. There were supposed to be three showing up. You've gotten yourself into an inescapable situation by killing two of us," said the pilot. I grabbed the lightsaber from my side and rubbed a little bit of dried blood from it. I longingly ran my fingers across the pressure pads, and a glaring, red energy blade shot from the hilt with a sharp crack. The lightsaber hummed steadily. I decided that the pilot had fulfilled his purpose.
"You are the one who can't escape." The last words I spoke to him merely sounded like grunts and roars. Before he could produce a look of fear or confusion, I ran the lightsaber into his heart. Pain creased the expression on his face. He looked at the energy blade still inside of him as it cauterized the wound in his chest, and then began to laugh. He laughed at me until the blood welled up in his throat, choking him. His eyes went blank as his last ragged breath mixed with his blood in a sickening gurgle. I pulled the lightsaber free. It hissed as it burned its way out of his body. A putrid scent carried on the smoke drifted up to me. I deactivated the weapon and put it back on my waist. I began to scour the cabin of the ship for whatever supplies and clothing I could find. I found a blanket, which I draped over myself like a makeshift robe, and a utility strap for a belt and a backpack in which I found some Imperial issue rations and an untouched survival kit.
I hid the lightsaber underneath my robe, and strapped the backpack on. I then activated the platform door and looked out into the landing bay. There were no signs of alarm, no passersby, no Stormtroopers. Taking one last glance back at the two dead Imperial soldiers, I fleetingly wondered what stories would surface from the shuttle being found with a crew of corpses.
They will eventually find out what has happened and they will come looking for me, I thought in sudden despair. Maybe they will quarantine the planet too. I turned my back to the shuttle, walked down the ramp, and made my way to the starport door, checking around corners as I went until I made it out into the open city. I let myself be carried off by the currents of people shuffling about their daily lives.
The bright, twin suns gleaming off of the white sands, the people of hundreds of different planets, the animals of burden, the pets, the very pulse of life overwhelmed me. My hands began to shake again. I had to stop more than once and lean against a wall to get my bearings and clear my mind. There were so many voices invading my senses. I was not used to being near so many beings, around so much thought, now that I could hear it. I avoided the gaze of a few people, who were looking at me strangely, but they seemed to be more concerned with their own doings, and didn't have the time or the concern, which suited me fine. Being seen covered in blood just might have caused me some problems. Then I saw the patrols that I had seen upon entering the starport, Imperial Stormtroopers with massive rifles in their hands walking in pairs.
I can't stay out here, I thought. Once that shuttle is discovered they will start arresting people. I beat my feet to the sands, kicking up a small cloud of dust in my wake, my makeshift robe billowing out, threatening to reveal me.
I didn't pay much attention to where I was going. I was just trying to get as much space between the murders and me as I could. I tried to come up with some sort of plan in my mind. I was alone on an alien world with no allies, no Gethzerion, and surrounded by the oppressors. After I had finally put some considerable distance between the dead Imperials and me, I stopped at a watering hole in front of a building. Several animals, I had no idea what they were, were tied up right besides it. The building looked like some kind of control tower that had fallen onto its side. The whole strange city seemed to be pieced together with scrap and blanketed by sand. Every building was the same color, and the same mud-hut design, and makeshift desperation to it.
I leaned against the side of the building pulling my robes about me tightly, wondering what the Imperials there would think when they found the abandoned shuttle with their dead comrades inside. Maybe they would think some local thugs had killed them. There was no one to report that a Wookiee had escaped Dathomir, and the manner in which I had dealt with them was nothing more than feral. Gethzerion had said that the prison planet was being abandoned for fear of the Nightsisters. Knowing the power of Gethzerion, I could understand why someone would fear her, much less an entire tribe of the same, of which I had once considered myself one.
Am I the last of the Nightsisters? The possibility dawned on me.
Imperials had always seemed ignorant of what Wookiees were capable of. I am not even sure they knew we have claws. I reminded myself of what I had done. My claws, again the images of me killing with my claws, assailed my thoughts. If any of my kin found out, I would be banished, sent into exile, considered as good as dead.
What would Syymbacca have thought? I wondered. What would mother have said? I laughed in spite of myself. Madclaw? What could they say? They're all dead!
"Exile from what?" I giggled as I soundlessly mouthed the words to myself, exile from the prison of Kashyyyk? If they hadn't been so weak and easily overcome we would not be enslaved. The two at the prison deserved the fate they received." I rubbed at the blaster wound on my side. It had scabbed over, further matting my fur, adding to the raggedness of my appearance. My once soft, red-highlighted coat of fur was caked, and lumped into knots with blood, and dirt, and gore. I had to find some place to gather my thoughts, to breathe, to clean myself of the filth.
I had not yet seen any other Wookiees, but through all the voices in my mind, it was hard to focus on the multitudes that had passed me by. What I did notice was more patrols. I turned away from the street, walked towards the door of the building, and went inside. Immediately as I entered a very strange smell hit me, like sweet smoke, and the musky smell of the mingling of dozens of different species. The dark, musky air, half-inebriated people holding drinks, and dancers gyrating upon the bar, it was impossible to mistake it for anything other than a tavern. I knew enough outside of my home world to know. Eyes swept over me as if in a collective hasty judgment, as if the patrons were expecting trouble with each new arrival. I pulled the robe tighter around my body, and moved to a darkened corner.
I sat in one of the metal chairs set before a small metal table covered in the dried rings from numerous glasses. I looked at my surroundings from my secluded spot, taking advantage of the shadows. I grabbed at the lightsaber that hung from my waist to reassure myself. For all I knew its former master, my master, was dead, and if she wasn't she was now a prisoner on Dathomir. Regret crept into me. I left her there to die. I owed her everything. If not for her I would have died there in the soil of Dathomir. Part of me wanted to go back to Dathomir for the sake of familiarity, but I feared Gethzerion's wrath had she survived.
"What have I done? I killed Gethzerion. I killed those Wookiees. I killed my brother," I whispered to myself, my mind swirled in conflict against me. The hate and anger at myself, the Empire, for my own people, for all things burned inside of me. I braced myself against the table, closed my eyes, and drifted, trying to slow my mind as I had been taught. I then let my mind drift from person to person inside the tavern. It was much quieter that way, fewer minds and fewer thoughts. Their minds spoke secrets, and I listened to drown out my anxiety.
There was one, a murderer. He killed his friend over a game of something called Sabacc. Another one was wondering how he was going to get his shipment of spice off planet. The dancer on the table, she was a young Twi-lek. She had her eyes closed. She was imagining she was somewhere else, somewhere less degrading. Her mind was cloudy, chemically induced. And then there was another looking right at me. My eyes flipped open. I was still shrouded in darkness, and my face hidden, but there was a human male in an opposite corner of the bar watching me. He stood up from his seat, his eyes never leaving me. He walked towards me. I reached for the lightsaber ready to kill my way out if I had to. He came right to my table and sat down.
"You understand Basic?" he asked. I nodded. "Good, we can understand each other then." His voice was deep, but not commanding, almost warm in a forced way. He spoke with a tone that identified him as street, but not book, smart. His hair was brown and scruffy, but not unclean. His lean, peach-colored face was clean-shaven, and without any scars. He had surprisingly delicate hands for seeming like a laborer, and he wore thick, hide-like tan pants, and some kind of brown flight jacket. I nodded to him. He lowered his voice, and leaned in closer.
"The name's Nes, and you must have certainly caused some trouble. Stormtroopers have already been alerted about the dead officers. They say some animal-like alien was responsible." He paused and looked around the tavern for eavesdroppers, then continued. I fingered the pressure pad on the lightsaber, readying to cut him in half at the midsection from underneath the table.
"I know what goes on at that port. The one you killed was delivering some friends of mine." He flicked his eyebrows when he said the word friends. "Friends that have now been confiscated by the authorities so I am told. Those friends were very valuable to me, and now I have nothing to show for it."
I had a bad feeling about where the conversation was headed. I slowly lifted my lightsaber from my waist. Anticipating my reaction, he tried to mitigate.
"Relax. I have no desire to fight a Wookiee." He chuckled under his breath, a hint of fear hidden within. "And I have no desire to see you go to jail, that doesn't do any of us any good. But I do have a problem of lost profits because of your fumbling." He swatted his hand in the air carelessly. "I'm not concerned about the Imperials you killed, the more the merrier, right? But I am concerned about the damage caused to my operation." He turned his head and looked at the Twi-lek for a moment, distracted by her lithe form swaying suggestively upon the bar, and then he turned back to me.
"I have a deal for you, I know a lot about your kind and their troubles; I've dealt with them before. You wish to avoid the authorities and I wish to make repairs to my operation, and as I see it, you owe me. What I need is backup while I conduct my business, and what you need is cover from Imperials. I can provide it. And considering the nature of your crime against those Imps, you seem to me as someone not to be fooled with." Nes looked down towards where he knew a weapon of some sort rested in my hand. The smuggler reclined in his chair, leaned it up on two legs, and interlaced his fingers behind his head.
"You could always take your chances on your own. May wanna watch out for those patrols. They're everywhere," he said with a sneer. I knew that if I did not accept his offer he would have slithered away to the nearest patrol to get his revenge upon me. Realizing my options, all two of them, I took my hand off of my lightsaber, interlocked my fingers, and set them upon the cold metal table that separated us. I nodded in agreement.
"We have an accord then? All right!" He let out two loud bursts of laughter, and then slammed his palm on the table.
How nice that he was satisfied, I thought. However, at least I had some kind of direction despite its dubious nature.
"Now we can't have you looking like that; we have to get you some place to stay during our endeavor. Unfortunately you're going to have to make some concessions to get out of here." I already knew what he had in mind before he even reached into the pouch on his belt. He withdrew a pair of binders.
How ironic, I thought. Nes laid them upon the table, and spoke in quieter tones.
"You're going to have to act as my slave to get out of here, and past Imperial patrols. Slavery is a common business here, you'll soon learn, so you'll be okay." I shuddered at the thought. Looking back now, maybe I should have just ripped his throat out right there. Instead I went along with his plan.
"I'll go along, but I warn you. Do not betray me, or you'll be dead before you have a chance to call for help."
He smiled inwardly, as if doubting my ability, the damn fool. I caught a glimpse into his mind for the brief moments that he dwelled on his self-confidence. The blinding images of a Wookiee male went in and out of my mind like a fleeting thought. As he said, he had encounters with my kind before. I ultimately wondered how many Wookiees were on the scorched planet and just what happened to the one in his mind.
He took no notice of my prying. He stood from the table. "Fair 'nuff. Let's go, shall we?" I grabbed the binders and fastened them loosely to my wrists, then hid my hands beneath my makeshift robe.
"Follow me and don't say anything. Just keep your head down and look homely." I obeyed and followed him past the other patrons and back out the way I came. I kept my face hidden. Just the dingy fur of my arms and legs stuck out from my robe. I walked behind Nes, covering his footsteps in the sand.
"I never did get your name," he said over his shoulder under his breath. Considering the consequences for a brief moment, I told him.
"Makaashyya?" He sounded impressed. "Pretty. You Wookiees sure do come up with some interesting names." As foolish as the man was, he was sincere at least that time.
We zigzagged our way through the multitudes of people. My senses nearly drowned in the sea of thoughts that came to me from the mob around us. Stress made it more difficult to keep the roving ability in check. Several patrols mulled about the crowd. I had assumed that the place would have been locked down by now with my arrival. Perhaps I had overestimated my importance; I hoped so anyway.
Then from behind us we heard a helmet-speaker transmit the voice of a Stormtrooper, a pair of them that I failed to notice approach us. I knew that if I killed them amongst the crowd there would have been no escape.
"Stop. You, where did you get this creature?"
"I just got her in a trade," said Nes before I could react. Then, without warning, he pulled the hood from my head. I nearly panicked, but I managed to keep my eyes locked onto the bright sands under my feet, doing my best to look as deadened as the slaves on Dathomir looked.
"Her former owner was a bit abusive, and seeing as he owed me, I was feeling charitable and took her off his hands as payment." It sounded like a convincing enough story. I admit that it was a clever explanation for my fur being matted with blood. The blood of the Imperials I murdered had long since dried and would it have been impossible to differentiate my wounds from their blood with the naked eye unless they shaved me bald. I held back a smile at the thought.
"A Wookiee, huh?" one Stormtrooper said, unimpressed.
"Yeah, I figure she'll be strong enough to labor. Unfortunately Wookiees are too dumb for complicated work and too docile for a bouncer, so…" Nes shrugged.
The troopers must have been tired of being burdened with patrol duty and the meanderings of the locals, so they dismissed us.
"Enough. Go about your business, citizen. Stay out of trouble." The Stormtroopers motioned for us to move along.
"I fully intend to," Nes said, as he jerked at the binders on my wrists and pretended to drag me behind him.
"It seems like you know how to talk your way out of a problem," I said, grabbing the hood and pulling it back over my head.
"I have my moments, Makaashyya. Let's hope we don't have to depend on another fleeting one before we get to my hideout."
We were able avoid the other patrols along the way until we finally came to a comparatively large building covered in the same mud-looking texture like the other buildings throughout the city I had seen.
"I have a room set up here for when things get a little warm at my real place. You'll stay here, but don't let anyone see you. I'll have to come get you for work. My apologies, but you'll have to make like a slave when we're in public."
"Doesn't seem like I have a lot of choice," I said flatly.
I followed him into the building and through a small lobby. Nes walked over to a terminal, punched in some numbers on a keypad, and pressed his hand to a biometric scanner. A card ejected from a slot in the machine in front of him. It was a fully automated complex. Nes collected his card, and motioned with his head for me to follow. I followed him onto an elevator and up three stories according to the numbers over the door. The doors to the elevator opened to reveal a narrow hallway that ended at a single door.
"Nobody wanted this last unit. I personally can't understand why considering the privacy. But with the heat and all, I guess people like to stay at ground level or lower. There is air conditioning so it's not a sweathouse in there. Do Wookiees even sweat?" he asked. I ignored his question and followed him to the door. With a swipe of his keycard, the metal door slid open. There were no windows, which suited me. I had already grown to despise the twin suns that hovered in the sky like spotlights. The room was simple, small, but at least it was something, and somewhere private. And it didn't seem like the Imperials knew who or what they were looking for in connection with the murders. There was some comfort in that. I hoped I had made a somewhat clean getaway.
After looking around the small unit, I raised my hands to Nes to bring his attention to the binders.
"Oh. Yeah, about that," he said, and quickly removed the binders and tossed them aside. "Make yourself at home. You may wanna clean up a bit. There's um, food in the condenser, help yourself." He turned to leave and then spun back to face me. "Oh yeah. I hate to, but I'm going to have to lock you in. I hope you don't see this as a prison, but I'm sure you can think of the many good reasons for my doing this." The thought of prison stuck in my mind, but I forced myself to relent considering the precarious situation I found myself in. But I had no intention of allowing the opportunistic criminal to believe I was easy prey.
"As long as you remember that I am not some fool creature to be underestimated. I have escaped from a prison before. Don't put too much faith in a flimsy door that stands between me and my finding you." Nes stood for a moment looking into my eyes as if sizing me up, and I looked back into his deeper than he realized.
"Fair 'nuff." Nes bowed his head.
I was further impressed by his ability to understand my language; I wondered at how remarkable of a skill it was among humans. A small part of me felt some odd connection to him because of it.
Nes turned to the doorway and exited the room, the door closed behind him, followed by a distinctive click a moment later. A prison.
"Is there anywhere that isn't a prison for a Wookiee in the Empire?" I asked myself. I took the makeshift robe off and tossed it into the trash in disgust, finally able to shed the layers of filth from me, and then I went looking for the bathroom. The shower was a mere square tub not more than four feet wide and four inches deep with an automated sliding glass door. I kept my lightsaber within arms reach on the sink counter and stepped into the shower and turned the water on as hot as it would go.
It was like wet sunlight raining down on me. Not oppressive like the suns on Tatooine, but pleasant, comforting, jumping-into-a-hot-spring kind of warmth. The dried blood mixed with the water and started to dissolve and fall from my body. The entire shower was quickly covered in light pinkish-brown sprays of water and dirt mixed with blood. I scrubbed and scrubbed, disgusted by the amount of filth that was coming from my fur. I drew my claws, and the very sight of them made the shunned name of Madclaw echo in my mind. They were still caked. I looked at them as the memories of the years of dreaming came to me. It was there still when I closed my eyes. The light turning dark, my name that was once called out was forgotten. The darkness nearly consumed all of my old self. I opened my eyes and looked at my claws again, the sight deprived me of my remaining strength. I sunk to my knees and cried until the blood had been rinsed from my body. It was a severe moment of weakness. I later came to my senses.
**********
The shower was oddly more draining than all that happened since escaping Dathomir. However, for that moment I felt as safe as I did when Gethzerion took me as her apprentice. My strength was returning. I stood in front of a fan and enjoyed the closest thing to a pleasant breeze that I could get, and then I crashed down to the bed and allowed myself to sleep. My dream appeared again, but all I could see was the blackness. Like a moonless night, wrapped in a blanket of impenetrable shadow. It was energizing, and I felt protected like Syymbacca was at my side again holding me, like he was the void.
I woke hours later, startled by the mechanical door opening. Without even thinking, I grabbed the lightsaber resting at my side and ignited it. Nes stood there in the doorway dumbfounded by the glowing red beam of Gethzerion's weapon, my weapon.
"I think I missed an important detail," he said with a forced laugh and raised his hands in surrender. "I thought you had a gun hidden under your blanket. I didn't know you were a Jedi." He looked at me greedily and with astonishment, like someone would look at an ancient, valuable relic from history.
"I'm not a Jedi. I just happen to have one of their weapons. No more than a blaster."
"Well that's comforting," he said, with a wry smile. "Not only do I have a Wookiee as my backup, I have a lightsaber-wielding Wookiee. I couldn't ask for a better strong arm." Nes stepped inside the room, but I kept the lightsaber pointed at him.
"Don't worry," he said, putting his hands up, "I'll keep it between us. I know the Empire doesn't smile on people with Jedi artifacts, and a double bad-mark on you being a Wookiee and all."
I shut the lightsaber off with a release of my hand from the pressure pad and stood up from kneeling.
"Is there something going on tonight?" I asked. Nes stepped closer to me.
"Matter of fact, yes. Podrace tonight. They've been outlawed since the Empire took over, but ya can't stop such an old tradition. And there is a lot of money to be made. I'm betting my best pod, and got the best driver I could find. I just need you along to make sure things go smoothly." Nes smiled. The sarcasm seemed to ooze from him, as did ulterior motive.
"You expect problems?"
"I expect people to do what they always do and cause problems. The races are held outside of town away from any patrols. It's going to be a night race, the most dangerous. Have you ever seen a podrace?"
I looked at him with an uninterested stare.
"Guess not. Well, anyway. They're repulsor-lift pods driven by ion engines, quick and dangerous, just for the drivers mostly, and very profitable. I think you might enjoy it."
"I'm sure," I said, returning my own wry smile. I turned from him and got dressed in a thick, concealing, dark-brown robe and a belt that Nes had in one of his closets. I kept my lightsaber underneath my robe hidden from view, clipped onto the belt.
A mirror hung on the outside of the closet door; I sized myself up in it. I was a far better sight than when I had first arrived. I then noticed something unusual. It took me a moment to place it. I looked at my image in the mirror trying to compare my most recent memory of myself. It was my eyes. I leaned in closer and saw my eyes were no longer green. Instead, like a flow of lava that consumed a forest during an eruption, my eyes had turned to a red-orange. The side effects of power Gethzerion once explained to me. Her eyes were the same, but her gaze more malevolent. I looked for a few moments more, examining the lines of black separating the flecks of red on a background of orange. Quick flashes of my dream came to mind and then faded.
"So be it." I said to myself and turned away from the mirror and went to Nes, who was waiting at the door.