Chapter 38
The Hopeless
Yes…do you feel it? The light leaving his eyes. Hope fading with each passing breath. Lightning tendrils tearing apart his flesh as they pour from your fingertips.
The Force serves you well, my apprentice. As you will serve me.
Erase those last traces of hesitation and pity from your eyes. They are unfitting.
The imbecile writhing at your feet is not your former subordinate. He is a fool – nothing more. A pawn who has outlived his usefulness. Why spare him?
Do you feel it? He is fading. Don't be too hasty, my apprentice. Slowly, painfully, joyfully…that is how a true Sith kills his prey.
Yes…I can see now that I was right to spare you and your apprentice. You will serve me well indeed…
-o-
"Hey buddy! Wake up!" a gruff male voice snapped, accompanied by an index finger which repeatedly flicked against the head of the man slouched over the bar.
"Guh—," panted the guest, waking up from his slumber with an upwards spasm of the head. His eyes were trembling, the front locks of his brown hair drenched with sweat and dangling over his eyes. He was met by the sight of a graying and most grumpy human bartender whose nostrils gave out one puff after another, his plump and red face looking like it was on the verge of letting out steam from its very pores.
"You've been dozing all night since arriving here so late, buddy," the bartender grunted. "Couldn't get a glimpse of you over all those damn glasses you downed." He pointed left and right. Sure enough, Kael – yes, he was sure of it, without question – was surrounded by eight tall empty beer glasses, with not a single other guest to be seen. "Now get going already. Morning shift is almost around the corner and I need to get this place cleaned and prepped up."
Kael rubbed his temple, which throbbed with pain. "Where am I?"
"Joey's Bar. Mos Eisley, Kato district. What, need more info? Should I give you an I.D. and background check while I'm at it?" the man growled, his patience growing thinner by the second and completely oblivious to what kind of dagger shard he drove into Kael's mind with his words. "Now scat! Be grateful I didn't charge you for a roof over your head for the night!"
Stung, Kael descended from the barstool, turned and left without another word. The instant he opened the door, the twin suns of Tatooine beat down upon him, and before him was the lively scene of market stalls crowded by people from all walks of life across the galaxy. Young children dressed in clothes that were barely one step up from rags scampered around seemingly without a care in the world, much to the annoyance of adults who would grumble and turn to curse at them. No doubt some of them would start wondering a few seconds down the road why their cloaks felt slightly lighter.
His eyes now adjusted to the blazing sunlight, Kael started to walk through the streets of Mos Eisley, beads of sweat already starting to form under his layers of tan-colored Jedi robes. He came to a sudden stop, feeling a little hand tugging at his right leg from below.
"Quero! Quero! Si comé mon madri seta fuego! Silvo tetsu mé?" pleaded a small dark-haired girl, perhaps ten years old, sitting on the bare ground. Her watery, pleading eyes looked up at Kael as she held in her arms the cloaked form of what appeared to be her baby brother, around five years old. The small child was evidently malnourished, his lips cracked from a lack of water.
Kael peered down to get a better look at the children. From the pale skin of the girl and the miniature horns of her little brother, he guessed that they were Dathomiri – natives of that poor, war-ravaged world that fell under Sith dominion in the prior year. Their parents were nowhere to be seen, and Kael didn't want to think of what might have happened to them.
"Here," Kael offered, reaching into his pocket and taking out 50 credits in hard currency. "I'm sorry, but that's the best I can do for you."
The girl reached out, a slight glimmer of hope in her eyes. Then, when she looked at the gift and realized what it was, the joy quickly disappeared from her eyes as she retreated back, sitting down in silence with her brother in her arms.
With a sigh, Kael continued onward. Republic money was obviously worthless in the eyes of some people, especially on a world as remote as Tatooine.
Hmm. Tatooine may not be the only place where credits are becoming useless, Kael thought, pondering on the overall state of the galaxy and course of the war.
'The Republic needs you. I need you!'
He stopped dead in his tracks, sorrow and rage sweeping over him as a gust of wind blew a stinging spray of sand against his face. That pleading voice? He didn't want to hear it. Not now.
'Republic? Sith? They're the same, Kael. They'll use you until you're of no further use. Then they'll abandon you and leave you to die in whatever forsaken world you wind up on. Why bother?'
Trask's words held no weight at the time, but now felt like a dragging, irritating burden on him. Kael never thought he'd see the day that he began to be swayed by the words of a deserter and opportunistic scoundrel over those of someone he once trusted more than anyone.
'Don't deny who you are. Not to me. Not to yourself.'
No, Kael shook his head, gritting his teeth as his pace quickened. My name is Kael Deren. Former Jedi. Former Republic soldier. My life is now my own.
His hand covering his eyes as he still struggled with his pounding headache, he came to a sudden halt as he bumped against a sturdy figure in front of him. Lowering his hand, he was met with yet another pair of glaring eyes, this time belonging to a swarthy and most bitter-looking Weequay.
"Darra nimo goggo ja!" the Weequay angrily grunted, then turned his attention up and forward at a tall and full-figured Besalisk who stood on a wooden balcony overlooking a decently-sized crowd, waving about his four arms and presenting to the audience with a booming voice.
Lined up behind the Besalisk were around a dozen poor souls, hands bound in front of them with rope and shock collars attached around their necks. Dejected looks were written on their faces, and their eyes reflected the absence of any hope in their lives.
Slaves.
The Besalisk hollered on, presumably about just how great and convenient these obedience slaves would be to their master. With a yank of a chain, he pulled forward a male Sullustan who was shaking in his bare feet against the hot burning wood that was left fully exposed to the merciless Tatooine suns. After an unpopular round of half-hearted bids, the Besalisk was left unsatisfied, shoving back the Sullustan who tripped and fell backwards with a groan.
'The Republic needs you,' Elena's voice echoed in his mind, only to be retorted once again by Trask.
'At the end of the day, none of this matters, Kael. The Republic, the Sith, good, evil, nothing. One day you think you can make a difference in the world, guns blazing as bright as the hope in your heart. The next day, you're locked up in a torture chamber, screaming for your life and begging for a rescue that never comes. You know what's the best choice you can ever make in life? Yourself.'
Kael exhaled long and hard, so much so that the Weequay standing next to him gave him an odd look before turning once again to the auction. It took Kael a while to realize that his hand had wandered to where his lightsaber was under his cloak, his fingertips grazing against the bottom tip of the hilt.
'All of the injustice and carnage going on across the galaxy…How do you do it, Trask?' Kael asked inwardly. 'How do you convince yourself to just turn around and walk away?'
Here he was, one man on a remote and isolated world dominated and run by the Hutts since time immemorial from one generation passed down to another. Criminals with, no doubt, links to other syndicates and the ability to spread word like wildfire upon the slightest hint of newsworthy events. Not to mention Sith informants and assassins on the prowl. Anything if it meant one more credit in the bank account.
He shook his head in dismay before letting his hand fall to his side once again. As the slavemaster moved towards a large object covered up by a dark green curtain, Kael turned to leave, having seen enough.
If only the crowd could oblige him.
As soon as the whooshing sound of the curtain falling could be heard, the scurvy patrons began to shuffle forward, eyes all too eager to get a better look. An all-too-eager Gran surged past Kael, bumping against him and unwillingly causing him to turn and get a glimpse of the object. The metal door of the previously concealed iron cage creaked open, and the Besalisk pulled the poor prisoner outside.
Twi'lek. Female. Blue.
"No…!" Kael silently gasped, suddenly finding himself moving forth with even more speed than the others around him. It took several seconds of forcing himself through the eager crowd to allay his pounding heart; once the Twi'lek came into proper view to study her features, he soon realized that it wasn't who he feared it was.
The Besalisk carried on, oblivious to the individuals who were huddled directly front and center in the crowd below, eager to get a glimpse of the Twi'lek. She was, as expected across the galaxy of her kind, remarkably beautiful, yet faces here and there of the visibly richer clientele scowled once they realized after a few seconds' studious observations that she wasn't as young as they hoped she was. The inadequate strips of white thin rags wrapped across her body hardly aided her in keeping unwanted eyes away as she stood dejected, head hung in sadness as her teardrops fell one by one against the wooden deck.
The poor woman trembled behind the man who carried on with not a care in the world that he was taking a step which would result in her life being ruined forever. She let out a whimper as his gruff, sandpaper-like hand yanked at the fair skin of her left wrist, pulling her in front of him as he spoke. Those who considered themselves too rich to care showed their disinterest by clearing out, leaving the still-eager mid-tier patrons to gorge their eyes.
One by one hands extended out, starting with three fingers before quickly increasing to as many fingers as each respective species could muster. Credits in both hard currency and digital cards were waved in the air, as the Twi'lek finally burst into open tears, crying out for her life. She peered left and right at the rabid pack barking in her direction, until at last she locked eyes with those of the only sympathetic soul to be seen, his hand alone not being raised among the remaining crowd.
Please…help me, her gaze beckoned at him, her trembling eyes doing the speaking for her.
"What can I do?" Kael muttered under his breath. "I can't help you. I'm…"
-o-
"I'm sorry," Elena said, her hands hanging low as she gathered them together, her head hung in shame. It was the middle of the previous night in the courtyard of the Lars' homestead, just before the fateful moment which finally drove Kael away to leave the group. The nearby flame torch illuminated half of Elena's face in a warm light which she shied away from, leaning away and leaving the other half of her face shrouded in darkness.
"For what? I don't understand," Kael shrugged, confused by her actions.
"For failing you as a teacher. For not being strong enough. For being distracted out there, leading to situations like the ones we had to face."
"You said it yourself while you were teaching me on Dantooine, didn't you? That strength and power in the Force aren't what make a Jedi. There's nothing you should be ashamed about, Elena."
"No," Elena said strongly – too strongly for her tastes, as she immediately quietened down to a hush afterwards. "I'm not saying that you should focus on those things, since we both know where that might lead. It's just…I feel that I'm holding you back from your true potential. I am your teacher, but you shouldn't restrict yourself to applying me and Bastila's lessons to the letter. Your focus, your raw connection to the Force…it's just something that I can't fathom. Watching you is just like—"
"Like watching Revan," Kael finished for her, his eyes doing their best to maintain a neutral expression. "Is that what you were going to say?"
Elena nodded. "Revan, Malak, Meetra. They were always leagues beyond my abilities, despite being my peers. Meetra's resilience, Malak's combat prowess, Revan's insight and Force potential…none of those things ever came to me no matter how hard I tried."
"Individuals don't win wars, Elena. Teamwork does. I'm sure that even Revan himself understood that despite all the glory he got in the press in the past, when he still stood for what was right."
She smiled back at him. He didn't understand the subtle warmth those words brought to her heart.
"You…mentioned that you were distracted out there?" Revan asked. "What did you mean by that?"
Elena's face slowly turned blank, and her fingers twitched a little out of anxiety. "I worry about you. Every single day we're out there, I fear for you. I can't bear to think of possibly losing you, given what you mean to not only the fate of the galaxy, but to me."
That gnawing thought that nestled in the back of his mind came to the forefront once again. "Why? No-one ever truly gave me an explanation as to why I'm the one whose visions are so vital in this quest. All I've received from anyone is the same cryptic reasoning – that it seems to be the will of the Force. Is that all I am? A tool of the Force?"
Elena shook her head before suddenly, her heart compelled her to walk forward and place her hand on his cheek, turning his gaze to meet hers directly.
This is it. There's no going back…
"No. You're not. There's a reason. A reason why the visions belong to you, and you only. A reason why I can't bear to possibly see you die because of my weakness. A reason why we, of all people, have come as far as we have right now, after meeting by what you thought was chance aboard the Endar Spire."
A silent pause followed before she removed the pendent around her neck and placed it in his hand, curling up his fingers and leaving it in his grasp. His gaze averted from his hand back to her eyes as she whispered those three chilling words.
-o-
You are Revan.
A betrayer. A mass murdering megalomaniac. Someone who spat in the face of supposedly everything he once believed in.
No. Kael was none of those things. He couldn't be. It had to be some sort of sick joke.
The Council…this must be another one of their twisted, manipulative 'tests'. They must have set up Elena and Bastila up for this. But why? Damn them…why can't they just tell us straightforward what must be done, and then leave us alone? Why do I have to put up with their nonsense?
Kael broke out of his own thoughts, unnerved by a strange icy chill that ran up and down his body despite the overbearing heat of his surroundings. Having decided that he'd lingered long enough, he turned around to explore Mos Eisley once again, searching for the nearest docking bay that had transport available. He walked down a shopfront alleyway, merchants and beggars alike beckoning at him in vain as he continued on in silence. He turned right at the end of a block, letting out a peaceful sigh as he saw it was a residential alley with no-one to bother him at last.
He sauntered on, every step feeling heavier than the last. Whether by the heat or the harrowing thoughts racing through his mind, he was forced to lean against the wall, breathing heavily as the words of Canderous began to echo in his mind.
'Killing Xor…it reminded me of who and what I am. The family I ran away from like a coward. The niece I couldn't save. It's one thing to try and fail – it's another to never have tried in the first place, and to pay a bigger price for it.'
Kael's heart plunged into chaos. Today it was that Twi'lek woman, along with the rest of those poor souls who would probably never see freedom again. Tomorrow, who could it be?
"Move it! Keep moving, I said! Don't stop!" growled a harsh, overbearing male voice from behind him.
"Koa! Jid elan bo san!" cried out a desperate female, accompanied by the sound of reluctant feet dragging along the sand, prompting Kael to turn around. As he feared, it was the very same Twi'lek whom he saw being auctioned off at the slave market, crying and struggling against the vicious grip of a gruff-looking Hrakian, a mercenary-like look about him. He was dressed straightforward for the job like many of his kind – in his case, an outfit composed of beige trousers and a long brown bantha-hide jacket, with many pockets to keep his various tools and side weapons and a hood to give him cover under the sun. His golden skin shone against the bright sunlight, and his thick hair was worn straight up in a sharp mohawk, creating an amusing sight as his hair wobbled side to side like fat worms as he moved rapidly.
The Hrakian's frustration grew as he continued to pull the sobbing Twi'lek along by the rope attached to her collar, yanking her up to her feet once more after she tripped and fell, crying out when her skin made contact with the hot ground. Constantly looking back and forth as he was preoccupied checking on his prize, he stopped dead in his tracks with a shock when he suddenly saw from the bottom of his view an object standing in his path.
Dazed by the sudden turn of events, the Hrakian glanced downwards to see Kael staring right back at him with fierce, disapproving eyes. Despite the fact that the Hrakian had at least an entire forearm's height advantage on him and was visibly growing more frustrated by the passing second, Kael didn't move an inch.
At last, the exasperated Hrakian spoke. "You're in my way, boy. Move."
Kael answered bluntly. "Where are you taking her?"
The monster's eyes narrowed. "That's none of your business, pal. Nothing for you to see. But you won't be able to see anything if you keep standing where you are. Move."
Studying the Hrakian up and down and then looking intently at his eyes, Kael decided on his next move. Full of adrenaline, intent on physical intimidation, rash, temperamental and impatient – all signs providing the green light for the oldest trick in the Jedi book.
"Come now, this is ridiculous. Surely there are other ways we can solve this?" Kael said, feigning tiredness as he held his hand in front of him, palm facing upward. "You're being extremely unreasonable."
The Hrakian's eyes slowly but surely settled down, and his anger almost comically seemed to switch over to the sulking frown of a dog as he withdrew a few steps and loosened his shoulders. "Yes…I'm being unreasonable. Sorry, bud…"
Kael looked over the man's shoulder at the Twi'lek, who seemed perplexed by the sudden change in her new master's demeanor. He continued, gesturing towards her. "Look at that girl. Fully exposed to the burning sun without proper clothing. Surely you can't just stand by?"
"Yes…she's going to be sunburnt…it was wrong of me," the Hrakian sighed, shaking his head in shame.
"You should give her your jacket to wear. Leave your personal effects in there – they'll come in handy for her."
"Yes. I should give it over to her. It'll do her good," the man agreed as he took off his bulky jacket, his heavy-looking weapons and hunting equipment dangling all about. All he was left with now was his thin khaki undershirt and his trousers, with not a single weapon or noticeable item of worth left on him. He walked towards the stunned Twi'lek who looked at him with wide eyes.
"It's too heavy for her. Leave it on the ground for me to deal with. You've had enough for today and have a lot to think over. Why don't you head down to the cantina?"
The man nodded and dropped his gear, the heavy load landing with a thud on the ground at the Twi'lek's feet. "Yes. The cantina will do. I'll be going now. Apologies." And with that, the once threatening and proud hopeful slave-owner trudged away, with nothing left but the clothes on his back.
Once the coast was clear, Kael stepped towards the Twi'lek woman. Unsurprisingly she stepped away, shuddering the moment she backed herself up against the wall.
"Don't be afraid," Kael said, holding his palms forward. "I promise, I mean you no harm."
"Do sahak vorcekan dan!" the woman snapped, her arm instinctively going across and covering her chest. She trembled greatly as Kael knelt down before her and started rummaging through the dropped jacket, one pocket after another. After a while of searching, he pulled out a key from the outer bottom-right pocket. The Twi'lek froze in fear and clenched her eyes shut as Kael drew close, before letting out a sharp gasp upon feeling the insufferable collar coming loose around her neck.
Surprised, she lifted her hand to rub her neck, which was most certainly free of its constraints. Her brown eyes began to water again, but this time out of joy. She looked up at Kael who remained still where he was, looking at her with sympathetic eyes.
"Dan…cahsinark go tlaran san?" she asked.
"I can't understand you, and you probably don't understand me either. But I won't hurt you." He reached down and held up the jacket. It was indeed quite weighty, but not enough to cause her discomfort. Still, it was her best chance to not fall into the wrong hands again while she remained on this planet.
He reached into his own pocket, removing several credits in hard currency form to put into the jacket to top-up what may have already been inside. He offered it to her, holding it up while opening up the front to expose the insides of the sleeves.
The Twi'lek bit her lip, but then finally accepted as she turned around, allowing Kael to put the jacket on her. She groaned a little, the heavy gear evidently weighing down on her, but stood as tall as she could. A blaster pistol was holstered on the inner pocket left and right, and a small dagger kept tucked in a carbon flap holster beside the pistol on the right. The jacket was long enough to conceal her body, stopping just short of the ground.
Having taken the time needed to study her new gear, the Twi'lek exhaled and looked up at Kael with grateful eyes. She tried to muster up a smile, but the uncertainty of her future prevented her from doing so, and so she could only manage an upward purse of the lips.
His work done, Kael bid his farewell. "I've done all I could for you. There should be enough credits for you to find a ship that'll take you off this planet and to wherever you want. Good luck." He moved to leave, but was stopped when he felt the woman grab onto his wrist.
"Wait," she said in an accented Basic. Kael turned around in surprise, greeted once again by a pair of watery brown eyes. "Thank you…for saving me. The moment I looked into your eyes among the crowd, I saw something…different. Who are you?"
"Kael Deren. I'm nobody important," he said. Of that, he was certain. "You speak Basic? But I thought…"
"I pretended not to. Worse things might have happened if I did. But," she said, getting a glimpse of the lightsaber clipped to the inside of his cloak while Kael was turning to face her, "you say you are nobody important? You clearly are a—"
"A Jedi? I'm not so sure anymore. Still," he pleaded, "I'd appreciate it a lot if you didn't speak of this to anyone. You're not the only one to have encountered trouble on this planet."
The Twi'lek nodded. "I understand. But what are you doing on Tatooine, of all places? Someone like you, I can't think of why you would come."
Kael looked away for a moment, as if out of shame, before averting his gaze to her eyes. "There was something I needed to do. At least, that was what I thought at the time."
"I see," she said, seeing that she shouldn't press further and that Kael wanted to be left in peace. "Thank you once again." She lifted the hood over her head after sliding her lekku down the inside of the jacket. She proceeded to walk heavily despite making efforts to walk more gracefully, fatigue clearly having taken its toll.
"You're welcome, miss…," Kael replied, not having received her name during their brief meeting.
"Nima," she stated, not revealing her last name. Kael stood still as she walked off, disappearing leftward once she reached the nearest intersecting alleyway.
Once she was out of view, Kael continued onward down his own path. An eerie feeling gnawed away at him, telling him that he should have asked more questions of her. Anchorhead surely wasn't the only place where danger lurked and stalked his footsteps. The unexpected attack that took place two nights ago was certainly not by opportunistic chance.
Whatever path he took, whether he would be alone or not, he needed information. Wandering alone would only prolong the inevitable.
'Damn,' he thought, clenching his teeth once he looked up and realized that he was right back at the courtyard where he initially started, so preoccupied he was with his thoughts. The last of the slaves were either being dragged away by their new owners, or forced back into their holding cells by the Besalisk slave master. The poor Sullustan was given a mighty blow to the abdomen by the two right arms of the Besalisk, left wheezing and unable to stand. Wracked with unimaginable pain, the poor slave was openly weeping on the floor before being grabbed by the collar and thrown into the cell, slamming face-first against the crude wooden bars.
Kael shed a tear at the horrid sight, overwhelmed by disgust.
The Republic I'm trying to save…the Republic that countless Jedi and soldiers fight so hard to protect…allow these things to happen? Why? Is this really what I'm supposed to fight for? This is the noble cause I'm expected to defend?
So many souls crying out for salvation, and yet he only managed to save one.
Pathetic.
A/N: Hey everyone. It's good to be back, albeit with a not uplifting at all chapter due to the underlying themes and subjects. Admittedly, it was very difficult to write this chapter due to the graphic imagery of the slaves' treatment. I felt it was necessary for the plot, however, as it allows me to start and end some plot points on Tatooine, rather than leaving them for much later as originally planned.
I've been out of action for over a year due to taking the CFA Level II exam in June which was a massive ordeal requiring countless post-midnight study sessions, but luckily I passed without much trouble. I'm taking a year off the program to get back to some old hobbies and take up new ones, so hopefully I'll be able to write a chapter every now and then going forward.
For everyone who has waited patiently for a new chapter, a sincere thank you. Hope to be able to bring you another one soon.