After their triumphant return to the Enclave, Reva turned down dinner and went straight to sleep. She was led to her sleeping quarters, where she immediately plopped herself face down onto her bed.
When she was awoken by the hot desert sun shining brightly on her face through a gap in the tent, she was immediately all too aware of how thirsty and hungry she felt. Her throat was drier than a patch of sand. Reva sat up, squinting feebly as she tried to rub at her face. Her skin felt too tight. She stood up and reached for her flask. By the time K'Sharad came to gather her, they walked in on Reva clumsily splashing her face with the contents of the water bottle.
"We have other water," K'Sharad informed her in unimpressed Basic. Reva narrowed her eyes at them and tried to blink the water off her lashes. Her hair felt rough and dry, and it badly needed a wash and rebraiding session. She reached up and patted it, feeling the soft halo of frizz around her forehead. "You could have asked."
"Asked who?" Reva retorted drily.
"Me," K'Sharad replied. Reva wanted to roll her eyes.
"Where is the fresher?" Reva asked haughtily, standing up so that they were face to face. At their fullest height, K'Sharad was still a head taller than her. Reva begrudgingly took a step back, unwilling to accept this blight to her very being. Few humanoid women were taller than her, especially in this part of the Galaxy. Perhaps this lent more credence to the possibility of K'Sharad not being one.
"It's just around the corner," K'Sharad replied coolly, not at all intimidated by the shorter woman's attempt to intimidate them.
"Is it just a hole in the ground surrounded by a tent?"
"No, we're quite advanced, I assure you," K'Sharad replied. "Our hole comes with a special shovel so you can cover it up once you're done with your business."
Reva frowned, but she followed them out and around the corner nonetheless. It turned out that K'Sharad had merely been messing with her. The fresher came with a real bathtub (not just a sonic), a fully flushable vacc tube and a sink where she could wash her face. They even had a stock of clean towels (albeit much smaller than what Reva was used to). It was actually somewhat impressive to know that they had access to running water in the middle of the desert (she figured it most likely came from some sort of underground well). K'Sharad excused themselves while Reva finally took the chance to wash her face and hair. By the time she was done, she began to wonder what she should do about her hair. She could unbraid and rebraid it again, but doing so could take a while. She would just have to live with the extra frizz for now. Her head felt heavy, but at least she did not have to wait long for her braids to dry because of how hot Tatooine was.
By the time K'Sharad returned with more towels, they were surprised to find Reva fully dressed with her hair down.
"Your hair," they said. Reva arched an eyebrow, daring them to continue. "It's loose at the front," they said, reaching up to touch the frizzy baby hairs on her forehead. She quickly batted their hand away before they could touch them.
"That's just how it is," Reva replied, grabbing K'Sharad's wrist. "I'm going to have to leave it like that for a while."
K'Sharad did not move their hand. "Until when?" they asked inquisitively.
"Until I can get it done again," Reva replied. "Which won't be for some time."
"Can you not do it yourself?"
"Of course I can," Reva gritted her teeth. "But it takes too long."
K'Sharad dropped their hand. Reva let go of their wrist. "I could do it for you."
Reva blinked. "You?" She asked doubtfully. "What do you know about braiding human women's hair?"
K'Sharad bristled slightly. "I am at least half-human, you know," they grunted.
"Right," Reva said awkwardly. The two of them stared at each other in silence before K'Sharad began to get impatient.
"Are you going to turn around or not?"
"What?"
"Do you want me to braid your hair for you? Because I can if you want me to, but I don't have to."
"Oh," Reva said, blushing. "Well, I suppose there's no harm in trying," she shrugged, turning around
"Sit," K'Sharad muttered, and she found herself immediately obeying. "Don't look," they muttered crossly.
"I won't," Reva promised.
It was awkward, sitting and waiting while K'Sharad took off their thick bantha leather gloves and began to thread their bare hands through the front of her hair. Reva closed her eyes out of habit, shivering slightly as she felt calloused fingers began to undo knots and weave new ones with unexpected ease. Normally, it took her at least a day of sitting on a chair while three different people worked on her head at the same time. With K'Sharad, rebraiding the hair at the very front of her forehead took almost a matter of minutes. Within half an hour, she felt as if they were almost completely done, which seemed impossible. A guilty part of her wanted to open her eyes and turn around to see what K'Sharad's hands looked like without their gloves, but she had promised not to.
Finally, K'Sharad dropped the last braid and made a shuffling sound behind her, indicating that they had put back on their gloves. "Done," they said, standing up.
Reva opened her eyes and ran her hand through the new braids, expecting to find a half-baked rush job. But all of them were surprisingly consistent and neat. She admired K'Sharad's work in the small mirror that was provided with the other facilities inside the fresher; for someone who rarely was allowed physical contact, K'Sharad sure knew their way around a hair brush.
"How did you get so good at this?" Reva asked, surprised.
K'Sharad shrugged. "Practice. How else? Now hurry up, we're late."
Reva stood up and followed after them.
Breakfast was held in a larger communal tent and consisted mostly of boiled blackmelon rinds, ahrisa, some strange mushrooms, sandwhale and bantha meat. Reva sat down next to K'Sharad nervously, watching as other Sandpeople began to fill their clay plates with food. She was surprised to see such a large quantity of sandwhale, especially considering how expensive it was currently on the market.
"Where are the utensils? I don't see any forks."
"Actually we prefer to eat with our hands." Reva blinked at K'Sharad quizzically. "Try it, you'll find it's much easier."
As Reva watched, they took off their glove. Upon seeing a sliver of skin from their bare hands, Reva blushed, but did her best to pay attention. K'Sharad reached for a piece of Ahrisa, used it to wrap the bantha meat then dipped the piece of meat and bread in sauce. They held it out to her expectantly. Reva opened her mouth and allowed K'Sharad to place the food on her tongue, trying not to lose her cool. When she closed her mouth, she began to chew slowly, trying to savor the taste of the spicy meat.
"Now you try," K'Sharad commanded.
Reva did her best to imitate them, dipping the Ahrisa in the sauce and wrapping some meat inside before cramming everything into her mouth. It was actually much easier than if she would have tried to use a fork and knife.
"Are we going to eat together?" she asked, looking expectantly at K'Sharad.
"No," they replied, mechanically putting their glove back on. "You can only eat with your own family, and you have none here. It would be highly taboo for an outsider to see our faces." When they saw Reva's face drop slightly, they took a deep breath. "You may eat with me while I take care of the uli-ah."
Reva thus found herself sitting down and chewing slowly on some tough bantha meat while a gaggle of small Tusken children surrounded K'Sharad and bullied them, demanding a story. She found herself growing curious to hear about the story, but even moreso to see if K'Sharad would remove their mask. Perhaps it would be easier for them to tell a story without the sand grille covering their mouth?
"Shara-ji, you said you would tell us how you killed the krayt dragon," one of the children whined.
"No! You should finish the story about the Builders," another one yelled.
"No yelling, please," K'Sharad grunted. Reva smirked and K'Sharad sent her a withering glare through the goggles of their mask. "It would be most appropriate for you to remain silent," they reprimanded her.
Reva dropped her Ahrisa and it made a sound as it fell on her clay plate that was so loud, she was half afraid to find a crack in it. "Why do you always have to reprimand me in Basic?" she demanded, annoyed that she did not have a chance to show off her stellar foreign language skills.
If K'Sharad could roll their eyes from behind the mask, they were most definitely doing it now. "Because, your Kumumgah is extremely clumsy," they responded. "I do not want you to slow the children's speech development."
Reva frowned, offended. K'Sharad turned back towards the children and cleared their throat.
"Fine, I'll finish the story about the Builders," they sighed. "Today, I will tell you about the Redeemed Jedi, or the former Sith Lord Revaan."
The children nodded eagerly. K'Sharad took a deep breath and bowed their head.
"All stories start together at the beginning of everything," they mumbled. "As Storyteller, it is my honor to weave the threads. The end has not yet come."
Reva closed her eyes and sat back, listening to the story of the fearsome Star Forge and the gruesome war machines that emerged from it. The horrors and sorrows of an entire colonized generation of Tatooineans, who suddenly found themselves under a despotic and tyrannical rule. Monstrous invaders that emerged from beyond the stars. As she did, the raspy sound of K'Sharad's voice being filtered through the sand grille seemed to grow softer and more pleasing to her ears.
I guess that would explain why I can speak and understand Kumumgah, she thought to herself. Although according to the story, not even the former Sith Lord Revaan was capable of using this skill to communicate with the Sandpeople. As the story went on, she noticed some of the younger children paying closer attention to her. She could already feel the question on the tips of their tongues. She wondered if K'Sharad might have some sort of theory or explanation for it.
"I have now finished my weaving," K'Sharad murmured. "I can now answer your questions," they nodded. A couple children raised their hands instantly.
"If the Redeemed Jedi could not understand us, then why can she?" one of them asked bluntly. All eyes turned towards K'Sharad. Reva swallowed, feeling the intense shift in aura.
"I have no idea," K'Sharad replied coolly. Reva ducked her head away. "Kumumgah has been isolated for so long that we have lost common intelligibility with the Jawas, even though we used to share a language family. I have no idea how this magic ability works..." Their gaze seemed to linger on Reva for an instant. "But I believe that, in order to acquire a language, there are several basic requirements. Firstly, the user must hear the target language. No man can speak or listen in a tongue that they have never heard. Secondly, the user must attempt to speak the language with their own mouth. In order to learn a language, every child starts out by imitating their parents, whether that be fragmented speech or nonsensical words. And finally, a third requirement that only I believe must be necessary...the user must receive it from the people they are interacting with. That is my only theory."
Reva blinked, confused. "I...received it? From who?" she asked, stupefied.
"I'm not sure," K'Sharad said coldly. "But for whatever reason, you have been granted the ability to understand and talk to us. So I would not waste it asking any stupid questions."
With that, they stood up and made a brusque gesture to follow them. The children immediately fell silent, sensing that story time was over. Reva wanted to roll her eyes.
Of course they decide to leave right when I was about to learn something useful, she muttered to herself. Must be a man, without a doubt.
"Oh, and by the way. People like me are neither man nor woman or anything of importance until our coming-of-age ceremonies," K'Sharad said without turning their back. "It would do you well to stop trying to find out that information about me."
Reva felt her face immediately grow warm. "I was not," she began to protest.
"I could sense it," K'Sharad replied. "I can feel your frustration. Now hurry up, A'Yark will get mad if we keep him waiting."
Intrigued, Reva immediately stood up and clumsily traipsed after them.
This time, they did not return to the large common area.
Instead, Reva found herself following K'Sharad down a labyrinth of several winding tents and passageways that led underground to the tunnels carved out of sandstone that she had woken up to on her first day. The tunnels were pleasantly cool and impervious to the heat of the desert, and most of them were lit by torches on the sides of the walls. Reva often ran her hands across the cool, rough sandstone and tried her best to keep up with the quick pace set by K'Sharad.
Finally, they stopped across a particular doorway that had been carved into the cold sandstone tunnels. K'Sharad hesitated, eyeing the hand-woven carpet hanging that blocked their path. After a few seconds, they finally stepped forwards and pulled it aside, striding confidently inside.
"Ah, took you long enough," a raspy voice muttered. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let the poor girl in!"
K'Sharad emerged from the curtains and irritably beckoned Reva inside. Reva nervously took a step forwards, not sure who or what she was about to see.
The room was much larger than whatever she had been anticipating. On the floor were various carpets with intricately detailed, beautifully colored designs. She had never seen such splendor among the Sandpeople, whose clothing seemed to evoke austerity and functionality over aesthetics. The room had a surprisingly low ceiling and was lit by a single sandwhale oil lamp that sat in the center, right next to a hunched over figure.
K'Sharad nudged her, forcing Reva to crawl forwards and awkwardly kneel in front of the hunched figure that barely moved as if to acknowledge. Reva stared at the sandwhale oil lamp for a few moments, entranced by the dancing light, then finally dared to look at the person behind it. Sitting across from her was an older woman dressed with grey hair wrapped into a long braid and leathery, weather-beaten skin. When she looked up, Reva almost jumped backwards. One of the old woman's eyes was missing, and in its place was a single jewel that glowed red in the lamplight.
"Hello, my feisty little Jedi," the old woman greeted her sardonically in Basic. "Do you recognize me? Or are you too scared to speak right now?"
Reva stared at her, temporarily speechless. Then, noticing the familiar gaffi stick in her right hand, she inhaled sharply.
"A'Yark," she said, immediately recognizing the hook at the end of the stick that was shoved in her face during interrogations.
The old woman drew her head back and cackled loudly. Reva flinched.
"Show your respects," K'Sharad said coldly, appearing near A'Yark's right shoulder. A'Yark did not make a single move, just stared ahead silently. "For your War Leader."
Reva did not know how to respond.
"Do it!" K'Sharad yelled a bit louder.
I'm getting some deja vu, Reva thought to herself. With no other thoughts in her head, she bowed.
"A simple kneel would have sufficed," A'Yark muttered. "But that will do."
Reva sat back up. "You didn't tell me you spoke Basic this whole time. You could've saved me some trouble," she grumbled.
K'Sharad looked ready to brain her with the gaffi stick, but A'Yark just laughed. "Because, it is just so funny to hear you attempt to speak our language instead," she replied. "It reminds me so much of my sister and when I was raising her in our ways." A shadow passed over her eyes, and for a second Reva was reminded that this was a seasoned chieftain who had fought several skirmishes and could likely impale her on that gaffi stick within a fraction of a click. K'Sharad also visibly seemed to darken slightly. "But, it has been quite some years since I last used Basic. And skills that do not get practice, are no longer useful." The older woman straightened her back, and Reva could see the fire of a true War Leader return to her eyes. "Do you know why I summoned you here?"
"No, I have not," Reva admitted. "And...forgive me, but...I was led to believe that you were not a woman," she glared at K'Sharad. To her surprise, A'Yark just laughed again.
"Indeed, I have allowed others to believe that I am a man. There are no conflicts of interest regarding my right as a woman to inherit my father's title as Chieftain, given that our War Leaders can be both female or male. However, my father had a rather specific wish. Out of his six children, only my two older brothers survived. This was not what he wanted. Since he knew that my brothers would quarrel over their right to succeed him, he insisted on passing the name of A'Yark to me and me only. This was an extremely controversial decision, as only sons have the right to be named 'A in honor of their fathers. By all means, I should have been named the daughter of my mother Sheek instead. But Yark was determined to place me as his successor and use this name as a sign of his uncontested approval. Since then, I have not cared to dispel the misunderstanding. Those who know me to be a woman, it is no secret. Those who believe me to be a man, I entertain the ignorance."
Reva swallowed. "But you were not your father's only daughter," she said slowly. "You said you have a sister."
A'Yark's eyes grew colder. "That is correct," she said. "When I was a young woman, Yark stole a human girl."
"You mean K'Sharad's mother," Reva said slowly.
A'Yark nodded. "Yes," a slight solemnity crept into her voice. "I was confused at first, but my father made it clear that he would not return her to wherever she came from."
Reva lowered her eyes.
"There are many tales about us Sandpeople stealing away hapless Tatooine citizens from their happy homes. I assure you...my father was not such a person. He had no interest in kidnapping innocent young girls. Until, of course, he noticed one whose fate would have been better off dead than alive. He once escaped being taken by the slavers as a child, and since then, he always had a soft spot for saving those in the same situation. I believe he saw my sister was left unsupervised by her owners for a few moments, and he seized the opportunity to free her. Next thing I knew, he had brought her home and given her the name that was supposed to go to me. K'Sheek, daughter of Yark and Sheek. That was the first time our tribe has ever adopted a human outsider.
"You see, my father intended to not just free her, but also make her one of us. So I taught her practically everything I knew. How to speak, hunt, fight, and ride a bantha. I had no other female siblings my age, but she was my sister. Before I knew it, I had stopped seeing where I ended and she began. Because we were one."
Reva took a breath, remembering Trilla.
"I know what you mean," she said.
A'Yark shook her head. "No you don't," she said coldly.
"I do," Reva fought back. "I know what it feels like to hear the news. That she was killed."
A'Yark's eyes flashed brightly. For a second, Reva flinched back, but nothing happened. K'Sharad looked as if they were about to step forwards, but A'Yark suddenly spoke.
"How strange," she murmured, her voice low and gravelly. "All these years...I supposed I never wanted to admit to myself the truth about her death."
"Aunty!" K'Sharad said brusquely, then realized their outburst and tensed up with embarrassment. But A'Yark just smiled and turned towards them, placing her arm on their shoulder and caressing it.
"It is alright, hayati. I know in my heart what truly happened."
"You..." K'Sharad covered their mouth with their hands. "You said she disappeared in a sandstorm...!"
"That was what I told everyone else," A'Yark said grimly. "In truth, I did not get to know what actually happened. She had begged me to represent our enclave for a diplomatic mission. So I let her go. She was supposed to meet with the neighboring tribes, exchange some information and report back to us. But she just disappeared. I tried contacting other tribes, asking them if anyone had seen her, but nobody wanted to respond to me. I had my suspicions that she might have been killed by some ignorant outsider, mistaking her for one of us. Not knowing that she was fully human. But I never got any confirmation. It was only months later when I realized her bantha was refusing to let anyone tether it that she had truly passed."
A'Yark closed her mouth. K'Sharad began to sob. A'Yark reached up and placed her other hand on their left shoulder, comforting them.
"The Kterskt," K'Sharad wailed. "I...I should've known!"
"I never wanted you to find out," A'Yark muttered.
A'Yark wrapped K'Sharad into her arms, shielding her from sight. Reva looked down at the ground, wanting to give them some privacy. Finally, K'Sharad broke from the embrace and turned away to stand in the corner again. A'Yark shifted her eyes back to Reva, the sandwhale oil lamp now casting shadows across her face that made it look even more gaunt.
Reva inhaled nervously. "Did...you miss her?" her lip quivered.
A'Yark's mouth quivered slightly. "Yes. More than the moon misses the sun."
Reva leaned forward. She did not know what to do, if she was supposed to say something, or any attempts at comfort would result in her head being cut off with a hooked gaffi stick. But she reached her hand across the sandwhale oil lamp that marked the boundary of the room and laid her fingers gently on A'Yark's hand. K'Sharad tensed and raised their staff, but A'Yark did not signal them to attack. Instead, she just smiled mirthlessly at Reva, her eyes dark and heavy with some emotion that neither of them could place but both felt radiate strongly around them.
After a few moments, A'Yark cleared her throat.
"That is enough sentimentality," she said, suddenly standing up with renewed vigor and beginning to pace around. As she straightened up, Reva felt once again intimidated by her presence. Perhaps it was the assuredness of her demeanor, or the aura of fierceness that emanated from her. But she was now reminded that she was in the presence of a War Leader and Chieftain. "I shall now let you know the reason for your summoning."
Reva looked up just in time to see A'Yark turn her direction and hurl something bright and glowing towards her. She instinctively caught it, and stared incredulously into her hands. In her fingers, she was carrying a smooth shimmery stone that weighed more than three bricks put together. It finally dawned on her what she was holding.
"The...the krayt pearl!" Reva exclaimed.
A'Yark nodded.
"But..." Reva's eyebrow creased with confusion. "Isn't this important to you? I thought you wanted this for yourself."
"Indeed I did," A'Yark replied. "But it is nothing compared to the payment I received from my client, so you may keep it instead. Do whatever you like with ti. You may put it inside your silly glowing light-stick, if you wish."
Reva felt her face grow hot. "You mean my saber," she said in an offended tone.
"Whatever you call it," A'Yark replied. "Regardless, it is yours."
Reva looked over at K'Sharad, who seemed to be eyeing her with intense envy but was too haughty to say anything about it. She cleared her throat.
"What client are you talking about?"
"Oh," A'Yark replied. "It doesn't matter what you call them, really. They've changed their name a few times, and really everyone knows they are just a shell corporation. But you may have heard of them before. They're currently known as the Corellia Mining Corporation."
Reva screwed up her face, trying to remember where she had heard of them before. Now that she thought about it, that would explain the CMC logos she had seen on a lot of Coruscanti and Fortress Inquisitorius cargo, as well as old Jawa sandcrawlers. A'Yark seemed to notice the change on her face.
"Yes," A'Yark said. "You know what I am talking about, don't you? They're quite influential in the Inner Core, or so I'm told."
"You're not working for the Core Worlds though," Reva said, frowning. "The CMC isn't just some local mining company. You're working for the Empire."
A cold shadow passed across A'Yark's face.
"You are smarter than I thought, little Jedi. I see you were not lying when you said you used to work for them too."
Reva cringed.
"You see, that particular krayt dragon was giving them a headache because it had chosen to occupy an area within their interest. You see, those grounds where the krayt dragon marked its territory are extremely close to an old phrik mine that was shut down before I was born for safety regulations. The CMC is highly interested in that area, and they're particularly interested in Tatooine's natural supply of phrik. Do you know what that is?"
Reva frowned. "Yes, of course, I know about phrik. It's a metal alloy that can only found on a couple planets."
A'Yark nodded. "Here, Gromas, and according to rumor, a couple worlds in the Unknown Regions...although that information is still not yet available to the public."
"But...why are you working with the Empire to supply them? Don't you know what they are planning to do with it?"
A'Yark's red ruby eye lit up.
"I do not care what they wish to do with it," she replied. Before Reva could open her mouth, she shushed her. "And neither should you, because I intend to hire you to work for me as well."
"What?" Reva demanded. "That is ridiculous. I told you, they would kill me if they found out about my existence!"
"They don't have to know, you'd just be working for me," A'Yark replied. "The CMC does not care who does their work, as long as the job gets done."
Reva screwed up her face. "I don't understand."
"It's very simple," A'Yark nodded. "Our tribe has very few interpreters that can understand both Kumumgah and Basic. K'Sharad and I are capable of speaking it, but we have no real love for it. You being a Jedi, and being capable at Force Translation makes things much easier on the both of us."
Reva frowned. "You want me to be your Interpreter for your shady CMC contacts?"
"Correct," A'Yark said. "We could integrate you into our Enclave. You would don our clothes, adopt our customs, speak our language...as a Sandperson, the company representatives would not expect you to remove your masks or show your face. You would be, so to speak, wearing a completely new identity."
Reva hesitated.
"I know that you are running from the Empire, and that you desperately need to hide yourself. This would be the perfect opportunity."
"And what exactly would I be expected to?"
"Act as our go-between," A'Yark shrugged. "Communicate to them, let them know where the phrik deposits are and how to access them. I know that you can find them using the Force, I've seen one of your kind do it before. They will let you know when they plan to schedule a shipment, and how you can help them. Give them what they want."
"And what would you get in exchange?"
"Security," A'Yark replied. "Before, the CMC and our tribes were at war. All Sandpeople had to fear for our lives. They terrorized us, tried to crush us beneath the Sandcrawlers, set landmines that would explode on us. Now, we can finally work together in peace. That is all I care about, the peace of my people."
"Don't you realize that the Empire will hunt me if they realize I am a Jedi? They don't like people using the Force without their authorization. I could be killed."
"They won't. Not if they know that I have given you my approval."
"But don't you care about what the Empire will do once the phrik is in their hands?" Reva asked, frustrated. "K'Sharad, you told me a story about the Builders and their horrid Star Forge. Don't you realize that is exactly the same thing that the Empire is planning to do? They're going to use the metal to build another war machine. One that will destroy worlds. I have personal insider knowledge that they plan to use it to conquer the Outer Rim! Not just Tatooine, but every other planet!"
"If other worlds are destroyed, that will be a tragic loss. But as long as Tatooine remains untouched, that alone will be enough."
Reva's nostrils flared. "Do you only care about yourself and things that work to your own benefit?"
"What is wrong with caring about things that benefit me?" A'Yark replied coldly. "It is the only way one can be expected to survive. Don't you agree?"
Reva opened her mouth to shout, but suddenly froze.
"You were clearly running from something when we found you. Were you not? I suppose, as a Jedi, you were probably sworn to some sort of mission. Some oath to protect an innocent civilian, children, or the like." A'Yark sneered. "At least, that is what your kind supposedly do. But I see no refugees, no protegees, no formerly enslaved fugitives beside you. When we found you in the Sinksands, it was just you. And why? Shouldn't you be travelling with someone else?"
Reva winced.
"You lived, because you ran away. Because you chose to survive. And whatever it was you tried to protect, clearly it didn't work out."
Reva's lip quivered. "You don't have to be cruel," she murmured.
A'Yark nodded. "I see, I see. But the truth is, you've lost your purpose for living now, haven't you? Without the thing you chose to protect, your life is meaningless. You have nothing."
Luke and Leia's faces flashed into her mind again. Reva sobbed. K'Sharad stepped forwards, then stopped and looked around as if unsure.
"If you join us, you can at least put your skills to use. I will give your life a meaning. Become my tool, and I will use you well. I always know exactly what to do with people. You will be not just one of us, but you will also be protected. And you can help protect the rest of our Enclave."
Reva collapsed to her knees with K'Sharad just barely catching her before she hit the ground. A'Yark resumed her pacing, triumphant.
"The initiation ceremony for uli-ah is coming within two twin sunsets. Those who have decided upon their adult names will be initiated and welcomed into the community. If you choose to take my offer, we will give you a gaffi stick, a cloak and a name."
Reva breathed in. "And if I were to say no?"
The hooked end of a gaffi stick immediately made contact with her throat.
"No outsider has seen a Tusken Raider without their mask and survived," A'Yark replied.
Reva nodded slowly, wincing as she forced herself to stop shaking.
They're already both dead.
I have nothing left to lose anyway.
"I'll take the pearl," she replied. "But the next payment must come in cash. I don't do bartering."
A'Yark grinned, the red crystal of her left eye glinting in the faint light.
"That can be arranged."
Leia looked up at Obi-Wan and Bail Organa. The two older men, who had been speaking in hushed voices, suddenly turned and faced her.
Obi-Wan spoke first. "Leia," he said, his voice weak. "You should have gone to bed three hours ago."
"What did you just talk about?" she asked anxiously, staring at them. Obi-Wan's bottom lip quivered. He looked over to Bail Organa, who knelt down and placed his hand on Leia's shoulder. During her first few days after returning to Alderaan, she had been rather squeamish but now both of them had adjusted to physical touch again. Leia leaned in closer, willing herself to be strong no matter what.
"We received word from our contacts on Tatooine," Bail Organa said gravely. "They were not able to find a trace of Miss Sevanders. I am afraid that she is presumed to be dead. We have tried to contact the local Sandpeople and request for them to return her body, but they refused. We also do not have any leads on Luke's whereabouts, because we cannot locate Vader."
Leia began to feel tears falling from her face. "No," she said. "Ben," she immediately turned towards the older man. "You have to help me. I need to find their Force signatures!"
"Leia..."
"Please, Ben," Leia whined. "I did it before, when I found Ahsoka! I need to do it again. Please. We have to find them," she begged, tugging on his sleeve.
Obi-Wan's wrinkled face crumpled.
When his first child was nine, all he wanted was discarded droid parts and toy speeders.
Now, his second child was eleven and there was nothing that he could give her that was even close to the value of what she wanted.
"Leia, I don't want to give you false hope. If it turns out that we cannot do this, or that something happened to them-"
"I don't care!" Leia exploded. "I'm tired of sitting and waiting at home and hoping for news. I'm tired of being useless and not being able to anything about it. I want to know what happened to my brother!" she shouted, causing Bail to stand up and hurriedly grab her hands. "I want to find out where he is! Do I not deserve to know his fate? What about Reva? She kept me alive while I was under Vader's capture, now she's sacrificed herself for me and there is nothing I can do to repay her!"
Bail opened his mouth. "Leia, you don't have to repay anything-"
"But I do!" Leia sobbed, crumpling to the ground. Bail continued to wrap her hands in his, rubbing her palms both out of habit and so he could warm them. "Everywhere across the Galaxy, people are trembling in fear that they will be killed next by the Empire. While I get to sleep in a bed and eat food whenever I want. It's not fair! Why should I get to live a normal life in safety, while they perish?" she sobbed. "I shouldn't have run away from Vader. It would have been better if he just kept me instead."
Obi-Wan frowned. "You should know that we are most happy to have you back, Leia. No one wishes that you were still at Vader's Fortress."
"No," Leia shook her head. "Bad things happened because I was selfish. I should have stayed."
Bail's face crumpled. "Leia, no, don't say that please. I only just got you back, sweetie. I cannot bear another lifetime without you."
"At least if it was me, it would be fine. I'm strong. Luke is just a child, he doesn't know how to survive Vader."
"But... Leia, you're a child too," Obi-Wan said quietly.
"Ben, you don't understand!" Leia groaned. "It's like you're not even listening to me."
"Of course I understand. I was there too, wasn't it?"
Leia closed her mouth.
Bail gently placed his hand on her head, brushing back her hair. Obi-Wan cleared his throat and adjusted his robe, covering his prosthetic leg. Lately, he had stopped using the repulsorlift chair as much and insisted on walking by himself. This stressed out Cody, who had started following him around constantly since Obi-Wan refused to at least use a cane (instead declaring some sort of platitude about the Force being his safety net). When he drew himself to his full height, she finally realized that she was not realized to seeing him stand up completely straight. He almost looked like the Ben she had first met.
"Leia, I will agree to help you because that is what you want and I want to support you," Obi-Wan said slowly. "But, I also want you to rest and allow yourself peace. You cannot achieve anything with the Force or help anyone if your mind is troubled." Leia sniffled, feeling Bail's warm large hands gently wipe her face as she blinked tears away. She tried to look at Obi-Wan through her blurry vision. "I will agree to do what you have asked, but only if you promise me that you will sleep tonight and eat all of your meals. Do you understand me?"
Leia sulked. "I hate sleeping," she said. "I have nightmares!" she complained, stomping her foot. Bail looked over at her, and slowly enveloped her in a hug. She kicked at the ground, but the warmth of his embrace made her reluctantly soften. She did not hug him back, but allowed his arms to encircle her.
"I know," Obi-Wan nodded. "I do too. But right now, you need sleep."
Leia frowned. "You don't sleep either, though! Cody says all you do is wander the hallways at night."
"Ah, yes. But you are a growing girl," Obi-Wan lifted an eyebrow.
Leia opened her mouth to protest but found her eyes were too heavy to open. Bail gently scooped her into his arms and lifted her up, placing her bobbing head on his shoulder. He gently rubbed her back, and she let out a sleepy grumble.
"Please excuse us," Bail muttered. Obi-Wan nodded. "I must take the little one back to her quarters...shall I call for someone to escort you, Obi-Wan? Your medic is most concerned about you. You mustn't overexert yourself, especially with your injury."
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Nonsense," he said. "Do not trouble the staff. I shall do as I please," he replied grandiosely. "Worry more about the young princess."
Bail nodded and started to walk away. Obi-Wan stretched his arms and relaxed, allowing his prosthetic leg to jut out slightly. Without Bail and Leia, the room felt eerily dark and quiet. No fires roared in the enormous mantlepiece behind him. The entire palace felt still and silent, an endless labyrinth with no souls in it.
After a few moments, he finally spoke again, addressing the empty darkness.
"I know you're there, by the way. I can feel it."
No response. The snow continued to fall outside, cold and noiseless as ever.
"You can come out now. I won't run."
A shadow emerged from the darkness and moved quickly. Before he could react or do anything, the shadow pulled out a knife and pointed it at back of Obi-Wan's neck. "You're quite bold, leaving yourself out in the open, you know. I could've attacked you at any moment."
"But you haven't," Obi-Wan replied calmly. The knife moved closer to his throat, but he still made no move to respond. "Come out, Cody. I know that it's you. Tell me what this is all about."
The knife trembled, and dropped slightly. Cody shook with a sob.
"Why won't you just listen to me?" he pleaded. "I told you, you have to be more careful. There could be spies here, in the palace. You have no idea what might happen."
"And I am telling you, I am perfectly confident in the soundness of my judgment," Obi-Wan replied. "I may be old, but I am not yet senile, thank you very much."
Cody glared at him, lowering his arm.
"You don't know what will happen. Rex and I deactivated our chips, but we have no idea what might happen someday. If the Empire were to suddenly seize back control-"
"Nothing will happen," Obi-Wan replied calmly.
"How can you say that? How can you be so confident, when you are completely ignorant? When you have no way of knowing?"
"Because," Obi-Wan met his gaze unflinchingly. "I know that I have you. And I lost you, but you came back to me."
This did not seem to calm the clone down. Cody shook his head, looking away. Obi-Wan reached for him, but the clone stepped back and began to pace in a circle.
"You are impossible, General," he muttered sullenly.
"Ben," Obi-Wan corrected him. "Just Ben."
Cody turned back. "I cannot call you that," he said, his voice wrecked with pain.
"Yes, you can. It's easy," Obi-Wan smiled. "Now, what is this all about? Talk to me. I surely think that we can communicate with each other, without the use of knives." he chuckled. "I suppose that was supposed to be some sort of threat? You should know better than to bring a knife to a gunfight, Cody. But of course, you know that. And that is why I did not take you seriously. I already could tell that you were trying to go soft on me." Cody's face flushed, but the furrow in his brow only deepened further. He remained turned away from Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan cleared his throat.
"Well, if there is nothing you wish to say to me, I suppose I shall start walking back to my quarters...alone."
With that, he began to strut away. Cody immediately turned around and ran after him.
"No!" Cody shouted, his face pained. "You can't walk! Not without a cane," he protested. "You should wait here, while I get the chair!"
"No need," Obi-Wan waved his hand without turning around. "I have no need of such things."
"Obi-Wan, stop! Obi-Wan!" Cody groaned, getting increasingly frustrated. "Ben!" he shouted, and Obi-Wan finally turned around.
"Yes?" Obi-Wan asked, smiling. Cody felt a flutter in his chest, then immediately groaned as he realized he had fallen for another of the General's tricks.
"Nothing."
"Oh...really?" Obi-Wan asked, sounding disappointed. Cody could have slapped him. "Well, I suppose if it is really nothing, then..." He began to turn away again.
"For crying out loud, Ben," Cody rolled his eyes. "Please, just let me come with you," he begged. "Your leg..." He stuttered as Obi-Wan turned back and started walking towards him, a big smile on his face.
"Alright, then," Obi-Wan said. "Let us go, then."
Confused, Cody followed along behind him as the two of them walked back towards Obi-Wan's room. As they took each step down the hallway, Cody found himself having difficulty keeping up with the older man's quick pace.
That can't be right. I should be faster than him, Cody thought worriedly. What if he overdoes it and reinjures himself-
"I would like to remind you," Obi-Wan cleared his throat, "That I am not an invalid patient. You need not treat me as if I were made of glass."
Cody glared at him. Stupid Jedi and their creepy mind-reading skills.
"Anyways, we have arrived," Obi-Wan said cheerfully, coming to a stop.
The two men stood facing each other. Cody began to breathe shallowly. During times whenever he felt as if his armor was constricting his chest, he would take it off to breathe better. But this time, it felt as if it was caused by something else. He felt a drop of sweat run down the back of his neck.
"Huh, that's odd," Obi-Wan said. "You are shorter than me."
Cody felt his face grow warm.
"I'm sorry, my General."
"No need to be sorry," Obi-Wan said, absentmindedly brushing some lint off Cody's shoulder, causing him to flinch. "I suppose with the helmet, it is quite hard to tell, isn't it?"
Cody felt his jaw clench. He froze in place, unsure of how to respond.
"You're a good man, Cody. I hope you know that. I think very highly of you."
The soldier swallowed. He bowed his head, unable to look up. A few moments passed.
"I am not worthy of your respect, sir."
"You're very wrong," Obi-Wan breathed. "I'm the one who is not deserving of yours."
Cody frowned and raised an eyebrow.
"You don't hate me?"
"I never did."
Cody looked back up and swallowed. His throat felt drier than before. His hand felt empty, and he clenched them into fists, blinking with confusion. Obi-Wan smirked, holding up something shiny. The knife flashed in his hand, as if it had been there all along.
"I suppose you'll be wanting this back," Obi-Wan murmured, playing with it and flipping the knife like a pen. Cody scowled, reaching for it, only for it to float out of his grasp and into Obi-Wan's other hand. "Ah, ah."
"Give me that back," Cody grunted, sensing that this was another one of his stupid games.
"Not quite," Obi-Wan smiled. "I want you to say something nice about my friend."
Cody frowned. "Something nice?"
"Yes. One nice thing, completely from the heart. You must mean it genuinely. I will know if you are lying, and use the Force to make it disappear."
Cody paused reflexively. "Ahsoka knows a lot about strategies," he said slowly. "Her hearing is very good."
"Wrong person," Obi-Wan replied. "And, of course, she is a Togruta."
Cody furrowed his brow.
"Try again," Obi-Wan nodded.
Cody screwed up his brain, trying to think of any other friends. Anakin? Quinlan Vos? "Bail Organa is...very generous," he said awkwardly. "His bravery is unmatched." There was not much else he could really say on the Senator. "His palace is very big."
"Again, not what I meant," Obi-Wan shook his head. Cody started to feel the frustration itching at his chest. "No, I want you to say something nice about my good friend Cody." Cody gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to give the old man a smack in the face. "He is very near and dear to me, and it would please me greatly if you could give him the praise that he is due."
"You are talking about a coward," Cody rolled his eyes and made another grab for the knife, accidentally stepping closer to Obi Wan's face. "And a deserter."
"No," Obi-Wan replied, moving in even closer so that their faces were almost touching. "I am speaking about the kindhearted man who cared for his brothers. Who made one mistake that was not even his fault, and dedicated the rest of his life to making up for it."
Cody did not move back. He stared at Obi-Wan's face just inches from his, the knife already forgotten. "I do not know what you see," he mumbled. "You must be joking..."
"I am not," Obi-Wan insisted. "I told you, I think very highly of you. I was not lying."
Cody sighed, letting his arm fall.
"You win this round, General," he said tiredly.
"You keep insisting on calling me that," Obi-Wan smirked. "Do you know something that I do not?"
Cody rolled his eyes and stepped back. Obi-Wan allowed his arm to fall, handing him back the knife. Cody begrudgingly slid it back into his belt, huffing frustratedly. "I will head back to my quarters now," he said gruffly. "If you need to leave your room again, contact me first so that I can protect you."
"Of course," Obi-Wan said brightly. "Wouldn't want anyone else by my side."
Cody sighed and began to walk back. However, before he got far, an arm reached out and fingers clasped around his wrist.
"Thank you, Cody," Obi-Wan said gently. "Goodnight. Please sleep well."
Cody did not respond.
With that, Obi-Wan let him go. Cody returned to his quarters, a small circular with no windows and a single small cot, just as he had requested. With as much vigor as he could muster, he tucked himself under the single thin blanket without removing any armor and laid down. If he listened hard enough, he could hear Rex's snores from next door. Probably dreaming about the Wars again.
Outside, the wind howled through the tall peaks of the trees. The rustling sound felt extremely alien, but he had been to many different planet biomes before. The first nights were rough, but after a while you got used to it. Within weeks, him and his brothers could sleep in any other environment. They had pitched tents next to active volcanoes, inside of icy caverns, on top of sandy dunes, and on the vastness of the salty ocean. No matter where they went, as long as his brothers with him, they were home.
Cody turned over. Rex groaned loudly, making a pained sound. Cody blinked. For a second, he considered getting out of bed and waking Rex up. But just as quickly as they had come, the groans subsided and gave way to disjointed snoring.
Sighing, Cody laid back down and tried his best to clear his thoughts.
As he attempted to drift off to sleep, he thought of many things. The snow, swirling softly outside. The hot sands blowing in his face when he had fought on Tatooine for Luke. The sound of blaster bolts, how you could always see them before you heard them because sound traveled slower than light. The slow realization that blaster shots that you thought you had already dodged were actually direct hits, but it was just that you couldn't hear them yet. The sound that bodies made when they fell over, and the armor that always came in the same size because it was made for the same person. The same person, ten and hundred thousands of times who had died and lived and lived and died and been reborn again a million times.
Cody sighed, clutching his pillow to his face. Rex's cries of pain continued to get louder. Finally, he stood up and walked over and knocked on the other door. When there was no response, he walked inside and stood over his brother's cot.
Rex moved uneasily in his sleep, his brow covered in sweat. The room was freezing cold, but he had rolled over so far that the blanket was dangling off of his bed. His forehead was cool to the touch, but he still seemed to be hurting. Cody rubbed his head, trying to comfort his brother, but it did not seem to ease his suffering. When he tried to pull the blanket back up to cover him, Rex let out another groan of pain. He mumbled something incomprehensible. Cody leaned closer, determined to find out what was causing him so much misery.
Rex shivered and grunted again.
"Anakin...!" He moaned mournfully.
Cody stopped.
Outside, the snow continued to fall. The trees nearly crumbled under its weight, but they still stood tall, covered in heavy silvery white frost.
Cody leaned back on the balls of his feet, unsure of how to proceed. A part of him wanted to shake Rex awake, to pull him out of his nightmares into reality. To tell him that Anakin was long gone, had long died, and had twisted and warped and distorted into something monstrous. The man he was calling out was not worthy of his love, did not even deserve his tears. There was no saving him, and there was no mourning him...such dreams were impossible.
But then the weaker, more selfish part of his mind reminded him that some things were meant to be left that way. Some wishes could only exist in the form of a dream. He thought guiltily of his own unresolved, impossible dreams. Fantasies that could never come true. Whether they were of saving the General or being saved himself...he could not tell. All he knew was that, the despair of every nightmare over the guilt of accidentally killing him would not stop him from fantasizing about a lifetime in which both of them could have been happy.
Cody slowly pulled the blanket over Rex's twitching body and rubbed his forehead. Rex stiffened slightly, then relaxed. Some of the tension seemed to leave his body. Cody leaned over, gently kissing his brother on the cheek. He made sure that all the windows were properly closed, then finally he turned and walked back to his room.
This time, he laid himself down on the floor. It was hard and cold, and the blanket felt too small to cover his body completely, but it felt just like the barracks. Just for a moment, when he closed his eyes, he allowed himself to pretend. Just like how Rex was still pretending that Anakin was alive. He allowed himself to slip away, into a selfish fantasy. If only for just a moment.
"Goodnight, Cody."
A smile broke across the weary soldier's face, for the very first time that night.
"Yes sir," Cody murmured, tears falling down his face as he breathed in shakily. "My...General...thank you, thank you sir..."