The next few days were a whirl of surprises for Ezra, who was quickly fitted with the uniform of a junior fleet officer and presented with identification cards and schedules. He was told which compounds he could access, which computer systems to use, and what weapons and tests would be prepared to match his physical and mental abilities.
He found himself thrust headfirst into classes for strategy, combat, self-defense, navigation, and engineering. He hardly had time to ask questions or talk to his fellow students because he was overwhelmed with the amount of information being thrown at him all at once. Ezra didn't think he was stupid or slow but it was a daunting task to absorb all of the information while adjusting to his new lifestyles.
It was a distinct contrast from his two previous lives: the ragtag grab-and-go days of his youth on the streets of Lothal and the structured but limited resources of the Rebel Alliance. This was formal military training and while it didn't sound as inflexible as Eli's descriptions of Imperial academies, life within the Chiss was formally disciplined.
Eli Vanto's own story of his time as a former Imperial officer was as much as a shock to Ezra as the tale of Thrawn's rise to the rank of grand admiral. Ezra found it difficult to believe that Eli had been on the side he and his friends had been fighting for years. But as Eli explained from his perspective, he was a young man who had only seen the Empire as a useful force of order in a chaotic galaxy.
"Of course, all my plans to become a supply officer got thrown at the window when the Strikefast found Thrawn in his so-called exile," Eli explained. "I had no idea at the time but he arranged for me to his translator and then his aide, so our paths continued side-by-side for years."
The young Jedi listened attentively to his words. He couldn't find it within him to resent Eli, even if he had served the Empire. Eli had the formal attention of an officer but none of the arrogance or vindictiveness Ezra had seen in other Imperials. If anything, he sympathized with Eli's past. He had been constantly pushed down and abused by his Imperial colleagues who resented Eli. They had bullied him in school, mocked his Wild Space background, and blocked his advancement for years out of jealousy of Thrawn's success.
Ezra was nauseated to hear how deep pettiness and resentfulness had grown into the Empire and infested people with such malice that they would climb over each other just to succeed. He was grateful that the leaders of the Rebellion, however frustrated they could be with one another and their squadrons, knew better than to stoop to personal feuds. But then again, they couldn't afford to behave selfishly and Ezra told Eli so.
The ex-Imperial nodded to Ezra. "Being here and looking back, now I know it wasn't the life for me. Catching pirates and smugglers is one thing until I've found out the Empire's war machine has grown out of hand and messed with other people's lives. If I hadn't come to Csilla, I probably would have had to face you on the battle field."
"Is that why you came here? Because of Thrawn?" Ezra dared to ask.
Eli nodded to him. "He was the only friend I had in the Empire. When he offered me the chance to join the Chiss Ascendency. I knew he trusted me enough to safeguard something nobody else could learn. So I took the chance at a new life and jumped into a new world."
Ezra knew he was walking on eggshells so he chose his words carefully. "I believe you, Eli. But you also have to believe that Thrawn did terrible things to innocent people after you left."
Eli frowned, though more out of conflict than anger. Ezra watched the brows over his eyes pull down and together. At last, he heaved out a sigh. "I know. I read everything after his debriefing and he denies nothing. You know must know by now that Thrawn sees everything as strategy. It's not the way of all Chiss but it is his way."
"So what happened?"
"You must've heard me using my pipes the other week. I yelled and accused him of betraying his people and his morals, especially after we did our best to minimize casualties in earlier days. He pointed out that the 'insurgents' we used to face had become a cohesive Rebellion and that's why he took drastic measures."
Eli shook his head. "Thrawn was the one person I could trust with my life. A part of me hopes I still can. But I know things have changed and I can't overlook what he's done to other people. I just know you and I have to make do with what we've got."
"So the hearing changed your mind about the Empire?"
"Two events did."
"What where they?" asked Ezra.
Eli's face darkened over. "I got some bad news half a year after arriving on Csilla. The Empire had reached my homeworld of Lysatra. A new Imperial governor replaced our senator without telling the public and they took over my family's shipping company overnight."
"I'm sorry for your family," the young Jedi put in.
He could tell this was a sensitive topic for Eli who continued. "That company's been in our family for over three generations. I can't stand to know some outsider is going to butt in and run it the way they think it'll work. They'll probably run it into the ground with all their bloated bureaucracy."
Ezra rubbed one his shoulders. "What about your family? Are they all right?"
"Oh, yeah. I've gotten information through traders on the edge of the regions and the other Vantos have packed up and moved to a farming moon in the Mid-Rim. Everyone's alive and safe, which is better than millions of other folks, but it couldn't have been easy for my dad."
"You said two event. What's the other?"
Eli gestured to Ezra. "There's you. I never met a Jedi before in my life and all I was taught at Imperial academy was that your kind was gone. Jedi were some extinct animal kept to whispers and mysteries. Now that you're here, I'm wondering what other facts were hidden from the public."
He asked in a lower voice to Ezra, "Can you really move rocks with this 'Force' magic?"
Ezra struggled how to tell Eli that the Force wasn't magic and that his abilities had been diminished lately. "Not really," he mumbled. "Maybe not anymore," he thought.
They must have cleared the air enough because Eli's face smoothed out. "I'm sorry if I jumped to conclusions. Campfire stories have a way of transforming into legends."
They had reached the end of the corridor they had been walking and now swiped their cards through the computer monitor.
The two young men entered the training room where groups of Chiss were practicing and sparring with one another. Ezra followed Eli by removing his boots and walking across the training mats.
"It may be good that you can't do your 'Force' technique now," said Eli. "To the Chiss, one rises and falls by his merit. You won't get their approval by making things happen with a wave of your hand."
Ezra wanted to protest that there was more to the Force than that but held his tongue.
"I've been instructed to teach you as much as I can from what Thrawn taught me. But don't expect me to go easy on you," Eli cautioned him. He removed two pairs of escrima sticks from a weapons rack and handed one pair to Ezra.
The Jedi flipped one in the air, testing the weight in his hand and feeling its strength when he gripped it into his fist. Eli stood up straight and crossed his sticks over his chest. Ezra did the same. They bowed to each other and then the sparring began.
For a few minutes all seemed well. Ezra let Eli make the first few moves, taking his time to block his opponent's maneuvers and keeping his feet from locking up. He was pleased when he was able to knock one stick away from his shoulder.
But then their sticks locked together and in a spiraling movement, Eli managed to send one of Ezra's sticks flying out of his hand. It sailed several feet away and landed on the floor with a clatter. Ezra instinctively reached out with a hand, prepared to summon the stick to go flying back into his hand.
Eli had taken advantage of Ezra's distraction by jabbing him sharply into the chest with a stick. Startled, Ezra staggered backwards. He wasn't prepared for the final blow as both sticks slammed against his shoulder blades and he was sent sprawling to the ground.
The young Jedi's back slammed onto the mat.
He gasped, struggling for air as he struggled to get back to his knees. Ezra could hear some of the other Chiss whispering in disapproval behind him. Defeat and shame stung in him harder than Eli's attack.
Eli stood over him with a calm expression. "Why did you lose?"
"You're bigger and stronger than me," Ezra protested. The words leaped out of his mouth before he recognized the foolishness of his mindset. He could not expect the Force to be with him as it was before by bringing forth a weapon at his whim. Nor could he anticipate Eli or the Chiss sympathizing with Ezra's personal needs.
"Size and strength don't automatically mean victory," said Eli. He extended a hand to Ezra and pulled him to his feet. In a lower voice he added, "They'll be judging every step you make. I can't give you any special treatment or it will be seen as a sign of weakness. So take this as your first and final warning."
Ezra nodded, silently relieved that the former Imperial wasn't going to rub salt into the wound. Eli swung his stick again through the air. "It's true that you're smaller than me but you will learn to use that to your advantage."
He took a piece of chalk from his pocket and drew several shapes on the mat. "Stand in that square with your feet apart."
Ezra did as he was told, gripping the stick in his hand.
Eli nodded. "Good. Now watch when I bring the stick down, raise yours to meet mine. That's fine. One, two, three. Block high, low, and then middle."
Ezra's feet shuffled nimbly across the mat.
"No need to grip your baton that hard or it'll sweat itself out of your hand. You got it?" Eli asked him. He was given a nod, the younger man's blue eyes blazing forward and locked with focus.
"Grip firm, aim high."
Ezra repeated Eli's motions. The two of them continued to practice for the rest of the afternoon.
A-A-A
Two hours later:
"What do you think of our newest recruit?" Thrawn asked Eli. They were standing in the adjacent room while Ezra had been dismissed and sent off to his next class.
Eli stripped off his sparring gloves. "Ezra looks wiry to me but it must have been from that ship wreck. He needs to build up his body and core muscle."
"Anything else?"
"Agility and flexibility are fine. He looks distracted easily so we'll work on improving his focus." He threw down his gloves and faced Thrawn. "I'm guessing you're interesting in more than his abilities."
He recognized the familiar glow in Thrawn's eyes. "Honestly, he's nothing what I expected when I heard you were bringing a Jedi here. I imagined an ancient warrior with a sword of light. Instead we've got this kid who looks like he just started shaving. How old is he anyway?"
"Approximately nineteen years old."
"Nineteen!?" Eli was dumbstruck. "And he took out your entire fleet and factory?"
"Ezra Bridger's accomplishments are irrelevant now," Thrawn said quietly.
Eli's head jerked up. "Is that because whatever 'powers' he has are useless now? Or does it have to do with that Imperial 'superweapon' we were investigating years ago?"
"You are correct on both accounts. But I have already told you and the Ascendency everything I know from interacting with Ezra Bridger and his Phoenix Squadron. Now that he is cut off from his friends and source of power, he must find a way to make himself useful again."
Thrawn watched his comrade open his hands in defeat. "Honestly, I'm still stumped," Eli admitted. "But I'll do everything I can to get him into shape."
"Thank you, Eli. But Ezra Bridger's outcome does not fall on your shoulders. He must make himself a suitable candidate for the fleet if he is to remain here."
"If not," Thrawn's voice lowered in pitch. "The Ascendency may expel him from Csilla after all. He will fall back into the Empire's hands."
"And that's not good for anyone, right?"
"Yes," Thrawn agreed.
A-A-A
Seated in the dining hall with the other junior officers, Ezra had done his best to be polite to his fellow students. He had hoped to even make a friend. But from the start, he had been met with stares and gapes. Some looked even scared of him, as if they expected Ezra to blast them down with lightning.
Nevertheless, he was formal even as he had been banished to one corner of the table and hardly able to hear the rest of everyone else's conversation. Something about the "Ruling families" of the Chiss. Did this mean they had their own classes of royalty?
"What is the Fifth Family?" he finally said out loud.
Dozens of red eyes swerved in his direction, making Ezra regret his question. They looked at one another, as if daring to see who would speak to the Jedi first.
"One of nine ruling families. They are the leaders of our people and the ones who adopt Chiss of standard lineages into their ranks," said one female Chiss. She gave an arrogant toss of her head. "It's a far more civilized lifestyle than 'barons' and 'duchesses' from your part of the galaxy. With us, the ruling families permit outsiders to join them and rise up in promotions. Bloodlines don't count for everything."
Ezra opened his mouth to protest her accusation when the room's chatter instantly died down. A frigid silence had replaced all talks. He craned his head up to see two Chiss guards enter the room. Judging by their short yellow cloaks and the short-range blasters strapped to their belts, he identified them as personal bodyguards. They stood in the doorway until a newcomer entered the room.
It was a young Chiss woman of indescribable age. She was encased from neck to ankle in a deep purple robe that gathered around her waist with a golden belt. Her glossy black hair fell in a single stroke down the center of her back like a velvet cape. As she walked across the room flanked by her guards, her hair swayed to-and-fro like a living thing before settling gracefully against her back. All of the other Chiss rose out of respect and kept their lips sealed so Ezra did the same. When she drew closer, he saw something glittering on her brow. It was a circlet of silver that ran across her forehead and disappeared into the hair around her temples.
Her gaze barely met his and he caught a fleeting look of a face so flawless it appeared to have been carved out of sapphire. Ezra quickly glanced down before she could accuse him of starring boldly in her face.
When she had finally walked the length of the floor and the guards disappeared behind her, everyone resumed talking again.
"Who is that?" he asked.
The Chiss woman rolled her eyes. "Syndic Ashray," she said. "Beholden to the Fourth Ruling Family. She has been groomed from birth to take her place among the Ascendancy. Should she please them adequately, the Family will grant her full privileges when she comes of age."
He thought of the tiara she wore. "She's a princess?"
"Didn't I just say she was adopted?" the woman snapped. Seeing Ezra's bewildered expression she shook a finger in his face. "Don't get any funny ideas about her, Jedi. You'll get no closer to the likes of her than you'll be able to catch lightning in a bottle."
Her insult nearly knocked the breath out of him. "I wasn't…" he began to explain. But the soldier just picked up her tray and walked away from the table.
Ezra looked around the room at rows of other blue-skinned people, all of them engrossed in their meals or conversations. No one lifted a head to him, not a single voice called out his name.
He starred down at his plate and instantly felt his appetite shrivel away.
A-A-A
Six weeks later:
The Ascendency was unanimous in their agreement regarding Mith'raw'nurodo. By devoting himself to the Empire he had opened up a tremendous risk for the safety of the Chiss people and his infliction towards the civilians in that domain of the galaxy had been considered gross negligence.
Nevertheless, the information in his brilliant mind was too valuable to discard. He was permitted to move about the city so long as he informed them of everything had learned from his time with the Emperor down to every nut and bolt of a TIE defender. The Chiss could use all of this knowledge to add to their own armada.
But this could not alter the fact that a trial would indeed be set to decide what to do with him. Not could it detour Thrawn's mission as he slashed his access card through the door monitor.
He found Ezra Bridger in his room, head down on his desk. He was half-asleep buried between books but lifted his head up when he saw Thrawn in the doorway. Ezra rubbed his sore red eyes.
"What?" he mumbled thickly.
The Chiss lunged forward and ruthlessly yanked Ezra out of his chair. The Jedi found himself rammed up against the wall and then hands clamped around his jaws, forcing his mouth wide open. Thrawn leaned in and peered inside, searching Ezra's mouth for a confirmation.
Ezra struggled against his uncomfortable position, nearly gagging until Thrawn released his fingers. He shoved the teen back.
The Chiss glared angrily at him. "You're not eating enough."
Ezra rubbed his sore jaw. "I'm not hungry," he muttered.
A chilling presence had settled surrounded Thrawn. "Nor are you sleeping enough. Commander Vanto tells me you're falling behind in your lessons."
"I've been trying. I just don't learn the way your people do!" Ezra protested. "It's been hard for me."
The red eyes narrowed dangerously. "You dare to make excuses?" Thrawn demanded. "You, the Jedi who obliterated my entire blockade over Lothal?"
He clenched Ezra's shirt in his hands and yanked him onto the ground. The Jedi lay there, sprawled out on his knees.
"Get up," Thrawn snarled at him. But Ezra did not. He stayed on the floor with his hands in his lap. He looked up at Thrawn through blurry eyes and disheveled hair. His expression was weary and weighed down with sadness, a look of despair in his blue eyes.
This wasn't the same young who had defiantly starred at Thrawn and told him that he didn't deserve to claim anything as a prize of war. This was a lost, confused broken young man. A child overwhelmed with of all the darkness in the galaxy.
The Chiss was disgusted with him. "I bought you to Csilla so that you would learn to become a better soldier. Instead you hide and cower within yourself like a weakling."
"Yes!" Ezra finally shouted. "I am hiding! Hiding from my home, my family! There's nothing here to keep me going!"
He could sense the ripples of anger radiating off Thrawn, his cold flawless logic twined with furious wrath. But Ezra didn't care anymore. He closed his eyes and shook his head.
"I miss them. I miss my master-"
A boot kicked Ezra squarely in the stomach, sending spasms of pain through his limbs. His body bent in half, doubled over with agony. He lay curled up on the ground at Thrawn's feet. The icy voice hung over his head like a razor-sharp sword.
"You fool," sneered Thrawn. "If you cannot muster the strength to fight for yourself then Kanan Jarrus died for nothing."
He stormed out of the room. Ezra lay alone curled up on the floor. For several minutes he didn't move. Slowly, he struggled to get himself up into a sitting position. He curled his arms around his legs and rested his head upon his knees. He could feel tears leaking out from his eyes and the harder he tries to stop it, the more it stung.
Ezra had sensed his own defeat weeks ago when he found himself unable to connect to any of his classmates or the other Chiss. Eli had been kind to him but his own duties did not lend him much time to help Ezra; nor could Ezra rely on Eli to help him.
His body has been consuming itself out of loneliness. His spirit would soon follow as he sank deeper into despair. Ezra just wanted someone, anyone, to care about him and remind him that he wasn't alone in the universe. Someone he could confide in return. He more than missed his family; he found himself dreaming about them at night and shouting out for them when the nightmares became too unbearable.
How much longer would he last on this frosty world? Had the Force truly forsaken him forever? If so, what would he do? Fear reached out to him like tendrils of darkness, slowly encompassing Ezra with dread of what would follow. Someday he would forget this extraordinary ability that embodied him to channel the life spirit of the galaxy. Someday the ice-water in the veins of these Chiss would possess him too. But while they would carry on as proud warriors, he would slip further and further into oblivion. Ezra's soul would crystallize into a fragile shell and he would feel nothing, care for nothing, until a single blow would shatter him into a thousand pieces.
Thrawn's words stabbed into him again and again like a poisoned icicle.
"Kanan Jarrus died for nothing."
A muffled cry of frustration tore out of Ezra's throat. He curled himself up tighter, making himself as small as he could. He repeated a single word over and over again, begging the spirit of his master to help him. But all that answered Ezra was the groan of his own voice.
"Kanan."
A-A-A
Eli knew things weren't going well and opened his mouth to speak. But Thrawn raised a hand to stop him. "I don't blame you for Bridger's lack of progress. The fault is with himself."
"Nevertheless, I feel responsible for his future," confessed Eli. He walked on quietly for several paces. If Ezra's problems were a Jedi thing, Eli didn't know how he could help. But he did have a suggestion.
"Traders will be arriving tomorrow at the outer border. Ezra knows enough Sy Bisti to help with the deals. Why don't I take him with me?"
Thrawn tilted his head to his comrade. "You think this will motivate him to improve."
Eli shrugged. "It may or may not. But it can't hurt. Besides, sometimes a change in activities helps to refocus."
"Is there anything you need before the trade begins?"
"Just the usual mago-shuttle and clearance codes."
The Chiss nodded in agreement. "I am certain that those can be arranged."
A-A-A
It was still pitch black outside Ezra's window when he heard Eli banging on his door.
"I'm up," he called out. He threw back the covers and rubbed his eyes with his palms. Fighting off exhaustion, Ezra got out the clothes from his locker and dress in several layers of the furs and leathers of Wild Space traders.
He opened his door to see Eli in a heavy trapper's trenchcoat and a battered wool hat on his head. "C'mon," said Eli.
They crossed the compound and entered a modest space shuttle, a banged-up older carrier suitable for junk dealers and scavengers. Eli sat at the controls and managed everything during the takeoff while Ezra checked the ship's internal systems to make sure they'd have enough air to breath and fuel for hyperspace.
With a final pull of a lever, the mago-shuttle leapt off and into space in the wink of an eye. It left Csilla behind in a trail of stars and was streaming towards the space station of Eli's destination.
When Eli was confident their hyperspace lane was clear, he pressed a metal thermos into Ezra's hands. "Brought you a treat."
The teen flipped open the top and took a sip. The familiar bittersweet aroma of kaff filled his mouth and made his eyes glow with delight. He instantly felt himself smile as the warmth and energy of the kaff spread through his limbs. Ezra looked up at the other man with gratitude. "Thanks, Eli."
Eli grinned and reaching out, affectionately ruffled Ezra's hair. "You remind me of one of my younger brothers, Samuel. He's almost your age. Maybe someday you'll meet him."
"I hope so," Ezra said. He took another gulp of kaff and looked out the window. Soon the hyperspace route shifted and Eli changed course. By the time Ezra was finished with his kaff, they had pulled out of hyperspace
The station sat there in space, a structure that looked like giant needle stabbing through three large buttons. In truth the "needle" was a lift that took the traders to three different levels of the station. The Chiss paid well for their privacy and Eli made an ideal intermediary. Posing as yet another scrappy buyer-and-seller with a shady background, he was able to trade Chiss metals and precious stones for technology inaccessible to them. These "milk runs" had been greatly beneficial to the Chiss and gave Eli a chance to listen in on what was going on with the rest of the galaxy.
Now he and Ezra stepped down the loading ramp pushing several cartons of merchandise into a large room adorned with energy lamps. They cast long yellow shadows across the other ships and traders mulling about. Ezra could see anything and everything people wanted to buy was available here: stolen statues, laundered credits, racks of spice and mind-altering drugs, exotic animals in cages, and more. So long as they kept the station off the usual scanners, everyone could go home more or less satisfied with their bargains and without having to pay a single meddlesome Imperial tax.
It was a brilliant business.
"Calcifur!" shouted a man with a large blonde beard. He strode up to Eli and clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Where have you been, you scoundrel? Breaking another lady's heart, I'll bet?"
"Her loss, my gain," said Eli. The answer sent the man and his friends into roars of laughter. Eli gestured to Ezra. "My younger brother, Kay. Thought I'd show him the family business."
To the bearded man Eli added, "Doesn't speak a lick of anything but Basic. But I promised dad to keep him out of trouble."
The man all but waved Ezra away, steering Eli towards the merchandise. This allowed Ezra to browse around the other ships while keeping an ear out for the men showing off a dozen power generators to Eli. While Ezra pretended to examine one ship's external thrusters, his ears tuned into two women muttered to each other in Sy Bisti.
"No way Calcifur is going to buy it. He's too smart."
"Relax. It's just a few short wires, that's all. The other eight are fine."
Ezra took his time getting back to Eli who was taking a break from haggling things over with the man. When they had a moment alone he filled Eli in. "Eight of the generators are fine. Four of them have shortened circuits," he whispered.
"Four, huh?" Eli scratched his chin. "This could get ugly if they think we're hustlers or Imperials in disguise."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Better let me do the talking. You okay hanging around here for another hour?"
Ezra nodded and was handed a pouch of credits. "Go find yourself a souvenir," Eli offered. Ezra thanked him and walked off.
He hadn't gone far when he came to another ship. A woman in layers of handspun red and brown clothes stood before it, a plump baby tied to her back with a patchwork sling. Her hair was barely restrained under her cap but she smiled at Ezra with shining black eyes. He found himself smiling back and walking up to her, hungry to converse with another human being.
"Hello," he said.
"Why hello!" she exclaimed. "What's a nice young man like you doing all the way out here?"
"Oh, I'm just with my older brother getting power convertors." Ezra jerked a hand back to Eli's shuttle. He noticed a wisp of a girl holding her mother's hand and gave her a smile. "I'm Kay. What's your name?"
She darted behind her mother, hiding behind the skirts. The mother gave a hearty laugh. "That's Sarah. She's shy around the traders."
"Hi, Sarah," said Ezra. She peeped out from her hiding place just enough to blink her dark eyes at him. Then she gave him a tiny "hi" of a whisper.
"My husband's got lumber from Kashyk to sell. Usually we stick around here longer than I like but we have to make sure it's all gone. Anything gets past the Outer Rim and we have to run with the Empire at our heels," the woman rattled off. "Of course if he thinks he can keep gambling off those credits I'll drag him back by the ears. You also betting in the rings?"
"What rings?" Ezra asked.
Sarah took her thumb out of her mouth. "Mama, can't find him," she whined, tugging at her mother's skirts.
"I'm sure it's here somewhere, darling. Have you seen a tooka around here, Kay?"
"Eats mice," Sarah chirped in.
Ezra looked confused. "Um, no."
"Well, I'm sure it'll turn up eventually."
"Mama, I'm hungry too!" Sarah begged.
"Hush, darling. Help me take these boxes inside and we'll get you a nice fried dumpling," her mother soothed her. She bustled her daughter back into the ship just as the baby on her back was waking up.
Ezra spent the rest of his hour talking to people about their ships and studying their wares. He had just come up to a kiosk of copper pots when he heard roars of laughter and snatches of delight from a throng of gamblers hunched in one corner.
"Ugh, hope they scrub out the blood this time," grumbled the woman running her kiosk. She threw down a rag and put her hands on her hips.
"People bleed here?"
"Not people, honey. Not unless they're bleeding credits."
Ezra's stomach clenched as he drew closer to the circle of about twenty people squatting beneath an old bronze lamp. They were tattooed, helmeted, and pierced, hair long and dyed or shaved close to the scalp. Mouths were missing teeth and limbs fitted with poor replacements for cybernetics. These were the pirates, thieves, and bounty hunters; scumbags of the galaxy. They were roaring with laughter and shaking one another shoulders as they hurled trinkets and money onto the floor.
Leaning over one man, Ezra caught the strong hazy smells of spice and alcohol above unwashed bodies. But the unpleasant aroma was the least of his concerns.
"Get 'im, you lazy mongrel!" bellowed a man.
"Bite out his brains," jeered a woman.
Ezra could see two small hairy beasts were in the center of the ring and clamped around each other's mouths, trying to throw one another off. One looked like a miniature bantha but with green fur while the other was a short-tailed tooka. The bantha animal gave a twist of his head and sent the tooka rattling several feet off. It scrambled to its feet, licking blood off its torso while the crowd around them cheered and scooped up credits.
"Who wants another round?" shouted a man. Cheers rang up in respond.
The Force stirred in Ezra, sickened at the sight of these creatures forced to fight each other. The mangy gray tooka staggered a foot and then flopped back on the ground. The man in charge of the ring poked it with a sparking wand, sending a flare of lighting through the tooka's body. It flipped over, hissing and snarling at the man.
"Go on! Finish him!" shouted the man.
Ezra moved without thinking. He pushed his way between two people and leapt into the ring. "Stop it!" he shouted, throwing his hands into the air. "You've done enough."
Boos and taunts answered him.
"Wipe your snotty nose, kid!"
"Go back to your mother!"
Their taunts feel deaf on the Jedi who could only stare at the tooka who was getting wobbly again. He stripped off his jacket and bending down, wrapped it around the tooka. It barely took up any weight in his hands and through the heavy fabric, Ezra could still feel its body trembling with fear or hunger.
"The game's over," he announced.
The leader of the ring stomped up to him. He had a heavy metal ring in his nose and orange eyebrows. "It's over when I say it is, kid. Tooka's not yours to take."
"He's nearly dead. It's not worth 'games' anymore," Ezra lashed out. He would have liked to perform a mind trick on this ogre but even if he couldn't, he could feel more energy coursing through him now then he had for weeks.
"Why you bratty—" The man swung a fist at Ezra, who saw in time and ducked down. Instinctively, his right fist came straight up and cuffed the man squarely on the jaw. It wasn't enough to knock the man out but he did stagger back.
Ezra stood before him with the tooka gripped in one hand and his fist still ringing from the blow in the other. Had he done that? Training sessions must have finally paid off.
The man rubbed his sore jaw but then gave Ezra a lazy half-smirk. "Brat's got spirit," he said. "Fine, keep the mongrel. He'd only last another round anyway before he gets chopped up into soup."
Ezra shuddered in disgust. The other gamblers started to protest but their ringleader waved his hands around. "Party's over," he boomed. "Who's ready for a round of liquid refreshment?"
And just like that, the angry mob forgot about Ezra and remembered their thirsts. They scooped up their money and the ring dissolved, everyone heading away to find the nearest cantina.
Ezra found himself standing quietly alone with the tooka still tucked under one arm. After a moment of shaking himself out of his frozen state, he made his way back to the first ship. Sarah had a bun in one hand and sugar smeared over her face. Her mother was sitting in a chair knitting something, the baby babbling nonsense over her shoulder. A man, likely Sarah's father, was standing by the chair and puffing a pipe.
The mother's needles stopped clicking together when she saw Ezra.
"Is this your tooka?" he asked.
"Yes!" Sarah exclaimed.
The mother set aside her needles and got up. "Why, by all the stars. How did you find him?"
Ezra glared at her. "I found him in a gambling ring. He was being forced to fight another animal."
"Oh." She looked puzzled. "So you won him in the match."
"No, I didn't." Ezra seethed at her. How could this family be so negligent? Much to his frustration, they didn't seem to care.
She blinked in confusion at Ezra and then her husband. "I thought he wandered off. Or did you sell him, dear?"
"Nah, that thing wouldn't go for any more than thirty five. He probably scampered off the ship when we touched down here," the man drawled. "Too bad."
"He's yours, isn't he? Aren't you responsible for him?" Ezra demanded.
The mother heaved a sigh. "I can't keep track of that tooka. I'm up to my elbows in diapers what with the baby screaming all night and Sara takes up much of my time." Right on cue, the baby's mouth puckered up and it let out a howl. The mother took it into her arms, hushing it and rocking back and forth.
Whatever criticism Ezra had for the family melted away quickly. His frustration with them was being replaced with empathy, now that his eyes were opening to the reality of their hard lives. The mother surely had her hands full raising her children on the edges of civilization and perhaps she hadn't intended to neglect their tooka.
A thought sprung up in Ezra's mind. "How much for your tooka?" he asked, reaching for his pouch of credits.
"Oh, you can have him for free!" the mother shouted over her baby's cries. "We just kept him on board to eat any rodents that got in."
"Little thing's tougher than he looks," added the father. He scooped up Sarah in his arms and signaled for his wife to get everyone back on board.
"Bye! Bye!" Sarah waved to Ezra. Just like that, the entire family vanished into the stomach of their ship leaving Ezra again, standing by himself.
But this time he wasn't alone.
By the time Eli was winding down talks with his first trader, Ezra had picked up some bacta bandages and a rubber ball for the tooka to chew on. He made sure to keep it bundled up in his coat so that Eli didn't see him rush aboard the ship and hastily deposit the tooka into the bunk.
Now that he had a good look at the tooka, Ezra could see it was longer and thinner than a Loth-cat, about the length of his arm with an oblong torso. He dusted off some of the grime, unsure if the tooka was fully brown or gray in color. Maybe it was even a hybrid creature. He could see a flap of skin torn open close to the tooka's belly where the other creature tried to bite into his flesh. The tooka was lucky not to get punctured in the organs but it kept licking its wound.
It stopped thrashing around long enough for Ezra to clean off the fur around its wound and put on a bacta bandage. The tooka still strained to lick at the wound, now blocked off by the bandage. When it realized it was a futile effort, it put its nose into the air and sniffed around curiously. The tooka blinked large black eyes at Ezra.
"You hungry? Here, try this." He took out a protein packet from his pocket and pinched off a bit. Ezra offered to the tooka with his fingers but after a sniff, the creature turns its head away.
He sighed. "That makes two of us." Ezra nibbled at a bit of the bar until Eli called him back from the docking bay. He dashed back outside just as the man signed something for Eli. He wore a sour expression on his face as he stomped past Ezra and off into the hanger bay.
"Forget him. Get these generators on board," Eli said. "We have to hurry before he changes his mind."
Ezra hastily pushed the carts onto the ship and locked them into place. He counted nine in total, which meant Eli must have taken the eight generators and gotten the man to squeeze out something else in the deal.
Sure enough, once they were space bound for Csilla, Eli let him open up the last box. "He was furious about those last four generators. I bluffed through the deal until he let me have the solar filters at a discount."
Ezra picked it one metallic sheet interlaced with woven blue wires. "What can the Chiss do with these?"
"Absorb power from the sun to heat water." Eli checked his chrono. "Better strap into your seat. We'll be at Csilla soon."
It was only when they touched down back on the Chiss world when Ezra brought out the tooka and explained everything to Eli. He didn't look pleased but he didn't make Ezra get rid of it either.
"You'd better do something about that tooka's smell," Eli warned him. "Chiss are sticklers for cleanliness."
Ezra hastily brushed another patch of dirt off the tooka's head. Eli was right; the animal was sorely in need of a bath. He was ready to duck back into his room when they turned a corner and found themselves face to face with Thrawn.
"Were you able to acquire the generators?" he asked Eli.
"Not all of them," admitted Eli. "The seller tried to pull one over on us. But he's hungry for more fire opals and corithum so I doubt he'll try the same thing twice."
"Then we shall keep that supply well-furnished," said Thrawn
He shifted his gaze down to Ezra, eyes resting upon the mess of fur in his arms. The tooka's black beady eyes glared up at the Chiss. It bared its teeth and snarled venomously at Thrawn.
The Chiss' brow creased in disgust, giving Ezra a moment of satisfaction. He spoke up before Thrawn could critique his actions.
"He's mine," Ezra announced firmly. "I'll be responsible for him." His arms tightened around the tooka. Thrawn continued to scowl as if his gaze could incinerate the animal.
In a voice dripping with disdain he said, "You cannot neglect your duties by tending to that filthy creature."
His rebuke only strengthened Ezra's resolve and he glared back at Thawn. "I won't," he insisted. Ezra found his voice had become stronger than intended. "I'll complete all of my assignments and promise not to fall behind. But the tooka's staying with me."
For a long moment, Thrawn said nothing. At last his shoulders rose up in the gesture of a truce. "As you wish, Commander Bridger."
"Thanks," Ezra mumbled. He pushed past both men and nearly ran into his room, slamming the door behind him.
Eli must've held his breath because he finally let out a shaky laugh. "Well, that was interesting."
"Yes." Thrawn's features smoothed back into his usual calmness.
The two of them remained in place. "I presume," Eli added slowly, "That you didn't let Ezra keep that tooka for altruistic reasons."
"Your assumption is correct."
"Then with all due respect sir, what are you doing?"
Thrawn lifted up his head and gestured to Ezra's door. "Testing a theory."
A-A-A
"To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world." – "The Little Prince" by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
"Easy, easy. It's just a bath", Ezra tried to sooth the tooka.
He had filled the tub with several inches of hot water but upon getting a paw wet, the tooka curled up and twisted itself between Ezra's hands. He kept trying to lower the tooka inside and it all but scratched Ezra with its claws. Not wanting to be shredded to bits, Ezra tried scooping up water with his hands and pouring it over the tooka's back. Then he soaked a towel in water, wrung it out, and threw the damp cloth over the tooka's body.
This time the creature didn't mind and it let Ezra rub it down again and again, as more of the dirt came off the tooka's fur and saturated the towel. Ezra had to rinse it out several times until the bath water turned brown but at last, the tooka looked clean and didn't reek of stale space and rotting tubers.
"You look pretty good, huh?" He set the tooka on the table. "Let's get you something to eat."
Some leftover bits of his meals were on the table so Ezra tried them one at a time, hoping to tempt the tooka. It sniffed at the cheese but didn't eat it. It chewed up a nut but then spit it out into a tiny mound of goo on the table.
Ezra frowned in annoyance. "I don't know what you want," he said aloud. Though he knew it was ridiculous for him to expect the tooka to open its mouth and speak to him in flawless Basic.
Then he remembered what Sarah had said. Ezra glanced aside to a bowl of stew that had cooled and congealed. He had barely eaten more than a few tablespoons the other night and now pale orange blobs of fat sat on top of the cold stew but Ezra used his fingers to fish out several bits of shredded meat. He offered one to the tooka, who tipped his nose up but didn't accept it. Ezra reached out with one hand and placed the meat on the table. Then he drew his hand back, waiting for results.
The tooka trotted over to the meat and bent its head down to sniff it. Ezra watched the tooka use its front teeth to carefully pick the meat up. It tossed the meat further into its mouth, using the back molars to chew and grind it up. Then the tooka swallowed the meat down. Ezra smiled with relief and delight. He dug several more meaty bits out of the stew and lined them up between him and the tooka. One by one, the tooka scampered to each new tasty bit and greedily ate them up, slowly advancing towards Ezra.
He held the last piece of meat between his thumb and index finger. The tooka sniffed warily, adjusting to the scent of meat mixed with Ezra's own skin. The teeth gnashed out again and Ezra's hand jerked slightly, wanting to draw it back to prevent getting his finger bitten off. But he held his ground. The tooka's teeth nipped smartly against his thumb but didn't draw blood. It chewed up the last bit of meat heartily and when it was done eating, the tooka's broad pink tongue came out and eagerly licked the grease off Ezra's fingers.
A surge of happiness swept over Ezra. This is what he had been missing since he arrived on Csilla; the experience to share and tend for another living creature. "That's it," he spoke soothingly. "Good tooka. Nice tooka," he murmured. He let his fingers stretch under the tooka's chin and he scratched the fur there. It made a pleasant trilling sound, a purr that was deeper than that of a Loth-cat.
By the time Ezra had finished cleaning up the table, the tooka had flipped over on its back and was stretching his stomach out for Ezra. He laughed. "You want your belly rubbed, huh?" He stroked the tooka's fur back and forth with the palm of his hand.
Now that it was clean, he could see the tooka was covered in deep gray fur all over its body. But around its torso and ears, the gray was decorated with random flecks of white fur. It looked as though someone had taken a paintbrush dipped in white paint and splattered randomly on the tooka's head and stomach.
"I wish you could meet my friend Sabine. She'd love to paint a picture of you." He added, "If you could sit still for five minutes."
Thinking of Sabine made his heart contract. He was sorry to have left her in the middle of a fight, surrendering the final battle of Lothal in her hands and then fleeing from her and the team with a vague message. If he was able to tell them now where he was and what had happened to him, they'd all be wide-eyed and stunned with disbelief.
But Sabine would carry on. She was more than an adequate Mandalorian warrior; she was a good friend who had stood by Ezra through his darkest times. Her people were proud of her courage and fire but to Ezra, her kindness had emerged and brightened his world just as her beautiful paintings come to life beneath her hands.
He thought of his fifteenth birthday and how Sabine had thoughtfully given him the data-photo of him and his parents that she found found and cleaned up. "Happy birthday, Ezra Bridger", she had said with a smile. Happy Birthday, not "Empire Day".
He hadn't meant to leave Sabine hanging with endless questions before Ezra vanished into oblivion but there was nothing he could do to but embrace the path before him. It hadn't been the one he wanted to take but it was the one with the best outcome for everyone.
Thinking of Sabine back on his homeworld, protecting Lothal and safeguarding his lightsaber, Ezra knew now he must persevere on Csilla. He couldn't give up just yet when he was counting on Sabine as much as she was counting on him to return home. They would find each other again, he swore to himself. He wouldn't give up until they united beneath Lothal's serene twin moons.
Ezra lifted the tooka into the air. "Genet," he said at last. Mando'a for "gray".
He fixed a box for Genet to sleep and lined it with a blanket. Ezra placed the rubber ball on top. Genet let himself be nestled into his new bed but once Ezra got into his own bed and turned off the lights, the tooka hopped out of the box and leaped onto Ezra's bed.
"Now what are you doing?" Ezra felt the tooka's paws on his stomach and then the full weight of its body came pressing down upon his chest. He gently pushed the tooka away.
"No, you can't do that." He pounded a pillow nearby while the tooka gave a low whine. "Okay, you can sleep with me. But just for tonight," Ezra relented. He leaned back against another pillow.
A low purring sound responded in the dark. Ezra felt Genet's body curl itself up next to his chest, pleased with the warmth it found against the human's body. The body stilled itself, trilling away as Genet fell asleep. Ezra reached out a hand and rested it upon the tooka's back. He could feel its tiny heartbeat vibrating away beneath the fur, the skin rising up and down with the tooka's breath.
Ezra let out a long deep breath for himself. Slowly, the pleasant sounds from Genet eased him into relaxation and the Jedi also fell into sleep.
This time his dreams were calm and steady as lake waters and he slept throughout the night.
