Star Wars, page 20
A brilliant smile flashes across her face, the brightest I’ve ever seen.
“Yes. Yes, I am. My name’s Keeve, and I’m pleased to meet you . . .”
She waits, just for a second, and Hoi jumps in.
“She’s called Kian. She’s my sister.”
“Hello, Kian,” Keeve says, “and hello, Kian’s brother. Will you excuse me for a moment?”
The Jedi leaps up, putting her slight body between us and the blaster bolts that stream from the other side of the village. The Hutt, its armor hanging loose, is dragging its scorched bulk toward us, a blaster in its pudgy hands. Not that it has any hope of reaching its target, not with Keeve’s blade whirling, batting every bolt back with practiced ease.
“Look at them,” Hoi breathes, glancing around us. He’s right to sound amazed. Most of the buildings are ablaze or in pieces, but the majority of Nikto have turned tail, running for their lives. Engines roar above us, and we look up to see Republic fighters streak across the stars, chasing after the guards. I’m sure there is a Vector among them as lasers lance ahead, aiming not at the fleeing Nikto but in the direction of the Hutt camp. There’s a distant rumble and a flash of light on the horizon.
Nearer to home, the rancors are fighting each other. It takes me a second to realize what has happened. The larger of the two no longer has a Gamorrean on its back. Instead, a Jedi sits in its saddle, a hand pressed against the creature’s head. The Jedi’s skin is pale, their bald head a stark contrast to Keeve’s long braids, and there’s a glimmer of cybernetics beneath their dark robes. Somehow this new Jedi is compelling the rancor to turn on its mate, the Gamorrean astride the second creature squealing in terror as its mount crashes to the ground. A third Jedi—almost identical to the rancor rider, if it wasn’t for the implants that cover half of their face—races toward the battling monsters. They push out with their hand, and the Gamorrean is thrown clear of its saddle. The newcomer leaps forward, covering ground it should be impossible to jump, and lands on the smaller beast’s shoulders. They press their head against the rancor’s crown, speaking words I’m too far away to hear, but the monster calms instantly. The two creatures break apart, no longer enemies, and the Jedi smile at each other as their terrifying mounts nuzzle like kittens.
More shouts go out as armored soldiers run into the village, stunning the remaining Nikto while Keeve continues to block the Hutt’s shots. Finally, with a graceful spin, she sends a bolt slamming toward the slug’s blaster, knocking the weapon from his hand. The warlord snarls and spits at the Jedi as she walks calmly toward him, lightsaber extended.
“Such language!” she says, feigning shock. “Would make a Bonbrak blush.”
A comlink bleeps, and she raises her wrist to her mouth, talking into the device.
“Give me some good news, Velko.”
“The dreadcruiser is secured, Master Trennis,” a voice replies across the channel. “You won’t believe how much food the slugs had packed in that thing.”
“Enough of the name-calling, huh?” Keeve replies, not taking her eyes from the Hutt. “We’re not the Nihil.”
“Thank the Void for that. Do you need assistance?”
“Do I?” Keeve asks the Hutt, and the mound of furious flesh drops his head, muttering what I can only assume is a surrender.
The Jedi stay to help long after the Hutt and his minions are escorted offworld. I find one of the pale Jedi who tamed the rancor and ask what will happen to the warlord.
“Tregarra the Hutt will be accompanied back to the Nal Hutta border,” the Jedi—Ceret—replies, a peculiar mechanical buzz beneath their voice, as if it’s partially synthesized.
“Once there, we will deliver a message to the cartel to cease their incursions into Republic space,” Ceret’s twin says. The pair do everything together. Ceret’s double—who goes by the name Terec—boasts a voice free of distortion, although there is nothing natural about the implants that run the length of their gaunt face. Up close, the differences between the two are more obvious: a cybernetic arm for Terec and a leg for Ceret. Then there are Ceret’s bionic eyes, as yellow as Terec’s are white. Augmentations aside, they work in complete union, leaping onto the rancors, which they have somehow persuaded to lug the timber needed to rebuild our village.
“Don’t even think of keeping those things as pets,” Keeve jokes as the bond-twins wave at her. “Commander Jahen won’t be happy about a pair of rancors stinking up the Gios.”
“What if the Hutts don’t listen?” I ask Keeve as we watch the rancors lumber off. “What if they come back?”
She smiles, checking her lightsaber, which is now safely in its harness across her chest. “They won’t. We’ll see to that.”
She turns to leave, her Vector standing nearby.
“You’re leaving?” I ask, my heart in my throat.
“I need to check in with Velko, but I’ll be back,” she promises.
“But what happens when the repairs are done and the village rebuilt?”
She stops and turns back to me, smiling kindly. “Then others will need our help.”
“But what about us?”
The voice came from behind me. It’s Hoi, clutching the tools he’s gathered to take back to the hall. He sounds younger than ever, and my heart breaks all over again. What have the Hutts done to us? How will these scars heal?
“You’re going to be fine,” Keeve says, as if she can read my mind. “More than fine. You’re going to be brilliant.”
“I ran away,” Hoi says, his voice flat. “I saw them coming and ran away. Kian’s right. What will we do if they come back? What if someone worse comes to Ena? Who will protect us then?”
Keeve considers us both for a second and then sits crossed-legged on the ground, her robes fanning around her. I bristle. She looks like a teacher waiting for her pupils to join her. No matter how young Hoi sounds, we’re not kids. Keeve may be a Jedi, but she can’t be that much older than me. For a moment, I think she’s going to pat the ground next to her, but instead she is content to say: “Will you sit with me? Just for a moment.”
I hesitate, but Hoi surprises me by going straight to her, fumbling with his tools as he moves to sit. Keeve raises a hand and the instruments stop in midair before dropping gracefully into a neat pile.
Hoi beams and then realizes I haven’t joined them.
“Kian?”
I sigh and give in, sitting awkwardly beside him. Keeve shifts slightly so she’s facing us both.
“I can’t promise no one else will come,” she says, looking at us one by one. “And I’m sorry it took us so long to get here.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her, but my words sound empty, even to me. I can’t lie. Spectacular though the Jedi are, things would have been much better if they had arrived when the Hutts first arrived. When we needed them most.
“It’s not okay, Kian,” she insists, looking deep into my eyes. “It will never be okay.” Keeve pauses, glancing up at the night sky, wistful for a moment. “I’m not going to lie to you. It’s tough up there. Tougher than I’ve ever known.”
“Were you there?” Hoi interrupts, staring at her intently.
“Where?”
“On Starlight. When it . . .” His voice trails off as if he doesn’t want to say the words out loud.
Keeve nods, trying to smile, but for the first time it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I was. And it was the worst day of my life. I lost people. People I love. People I miss every minute of every day. And sometimes, when I think back, I get so scared.”
That’s not what we were told. Not what the stories said.
“I get scared for myself,” Keeve continues, “and for the galaxy as a whole. Which is why I need to thank you.”
“Us?” Hoi says, frowning. “We didn’t do anything.”
“Really?” Keeve says, raising an eyebrow. “Because that’s not what the others said. They told me how you risked everything so they wouldn’t starve, sneaking into the camp, stealing back the food. That was you, Hoi. You planned it. You saw it through.”
“With Kian’s help,” he says, the fur on his cheeks bristling.
“Yes, Kian,” the Jedi says, turning in my direction. “Kian, who jumped in front of a Hutt flamethrower to protect her brother. Kian, who didn’t pause, didn’t hesitate, despite what the flames would do to her.” She reaches out, taking our hands.
“Do you know what I see when I look at the pair of you?” she asks.
I snort, suddenly as embarrassed as my brother. “I dread to think.”
“I see light,” she says, her hands squeezing ours. “Light and life. And I’ll tell you a secret: there are so many of you, all across the galaxy, on every planet, every moon. You shine like beacons. You give me hope.”
“We do?”
She nods. “You better kriffing believe it, Kian of the Enami.”
I laugh, surprised. “Did you just swear?”
“That’s the other secret. Jedi swear all the time. We just hide it from our masters.”
“Does your master know?” Hoi asks.
Keeve’s smile falters just for a moment, but she recovers, arching an eyebrow. “Who do you think taught me in the first place?”
“I wish we could come with you,” I say, glancing at her waiting Vector.
“But that’s just it,” Keeve says, squeezing our hands. “That’s how we beat the darkness. Not by charging across the stars waving laser swords—although the laser swords are great. We win by shining wherever we are, in our homes, with the people we love. We win by pushing back the shadows and lighting the way. Will you do that? Will you do that for me? Will you do that for each other?”
I give her the only answer I can, throwing my arms around her. Hoi joins in, Keeve holding us both tight. I’m crying, but I’m not embarrassed, because Keeve is crying, too.
The ground shook and rippled, almost as if liquefied.
That was what Padawan Amadeo Azzazzo thought, standing in the middle of the Mikkian village. Piles of rubble and crumpled thatched huts surrounded him. The groundquake made the remaining standing buildings sway, as if made of reeds instead of stone and mortar. Luckily, this was not Amadeo’s first groundquake. He did not wait for the ground to settle—he was never in one spot long enough to lose his balance.
“Move!” Amadeo hollered, ushering people toward the edges of the village. Despite being an obvious outsider, with his tanned skin, dark hair, and amber eyes, he and his help were welcomed by the Mikkians. Plus, they were too busy fleeing and screaming. The tendrils on their heads flowed behind them as they ran on ground that no longer felt solid. Amadeo saw a young child fall, her legs slipping into a crack below her that was rapidly widening. The child clawed at the dirt, violet eyes enormous with panic.
Amadeo took a bounding leap to the child’s side, scooped her up, and delivered her to her shocked mother several meters away.
“Get away from the village center. Head to the plateau by the riverbed,” he said.
She nodded, hoisted her child on her hip, and ran. Other Mikkians had also fallen from the tremors, and several were being carried away. Amadeo saw one with a broken leg, another bleeding profusely from cuts sustained from falling debris. Nearby, a Mikkian man was running past him but stopped to shield himself from rocks falling from a watchtower to their left.
Jedi Master Mirro Lox appeared at the man’s side, his hands poised upward to deflect the falling rubble. His wide jaw was set with concentration, dark eyes focused despite the yells and screams around him. His hair was shorn close to his brown skin. There was something about his broad shoulders holding his arms aloft that made him appear like a statue come alive to hold up the very sky.
“Go!” Master Lox said, and the Mikkian ran away. Rock and rubble hovered above him, held in place by the Force. Master Lox moved his hands to the side, and the debris landed safely at a distance. All the while, the sky was softly blue, unnaturally cheerful for such a natural disaster.
Amadeo’s master was perpetually calm. It didn’t matter if it was a massive groundquake, like this one, or a skirmish on Boonta involving spice traders, or an assignment escorting a rather rude Arkanian representative to a negotiation deal on Champala. Even if a Hutt threatened to dice him into bits, Master Lox would simply raise his eyebrows as if to say, Are you sure you’re making a good choice here?
“How much of the village is evacuated?” Master Lox asked. He was warily watching the widening crack in the center of the village, like the slowly opening eye of a massive creature awakening. Nevertheless, the tremors were finally lessening.
“Only about half. Not all will listen to me,” Amadeo said. He reached out with both hands to hold back a collapsing stone wall of the village temple as Mikkians ran by, then allowed it to fall when all was clear. “Didn’t the Red Mine people say they were going to assist? They seem more focused on their akassia mineral production than helping.”
Amadeo glanced over his shoulder. In the distance, nestled into the base of the mountain that overshadowed the village of Charbana, a mining complex with its barracks and landing pads had embedded itself in the green-and-yellow forest like a scar. Apparently, akassia was a mineral used in some circuits to produce smaller, sleeker lightspeed engines, and many mines had popped up around the galaxy recently.
The Jedi Council hadn’t mentioned the miners, which meant the mining complex was operating pretty quietly. Master Lox had received an order from the Council to assist in the distress call sent by the Mikkians in the village of Charbana, but the Red Mine had commed the Jedi’s ship on arrival and told the Jedi not to land, as they were already assisting. Master Lox had ignored them and landed anyway.
But there was no rescue team from the Red Mine in sight. It took another hour before the Jedi could evacuate the rest of the villagers. Many were still hiding in their huts, blankets thrown over themselves as shelter from the falling plaster and rubble. They were just catching their breath when five people walked into the village wearing black uniforms with the Red Mine logo of a hammer on their shoulders. One of them walked in front of the others, a human male with gray hair and a beard.
“Jedi. Thank you for your help,” he said. “I am Lor Botho, one of the managers at the site.” He put his hands on his waist and surveyed the dusty rubble around him. “We can take it from here. We were planning on assisting the villagers in relocating to a safer area. This place is too dangerous.”
“It wasn’t always dangerous,” a Mikkian woman said, walking from behind the fallen temple. Her skin was deep green, her head tendrils ending in a dark blue. Her skin was covered in a fine smattering of dust, and her blue eyes were wary. “Not until you arrived here.”
Amadeo bowed his head, and Master Lox stepped forward. “I am Master Mirro Lox. My Padawan, Amadeo Azzazzo. We arrived to assist with the groundquake.”
Before the woman could open her mouth to respond, Lor Botho opened his arms wide.
“Please. Let us talk,” Lor Botho said graciously. “Perhaps in a safe place. Your ship?” He gestured to the Jedi’s small craft. He looked to the Mikkian woman. “Your leader, Senar Cappo, would be welcomed to join us.”
“I am the leader of this village now,” she said, her face full of sorrow. “Gria Cappo. It was my father who reached out to the Jedi. A roof collapsed on him just after he called for assistance.”
“I’m very sorry to hear it,” Master Lox said, shaking his head. “You must be in shock.”
Her face had been like stone, but her expression softened at Mirro’s words. “I have no time right now for anything except the welfare of my people. Not even grief.” She turned to the Red Mine leader. “Lor Botho, we’ve already met. But apparently you don’t remember.”
Lor Botho smiled, reaching for his beard to stroke it. “Ah. It’s the dust. Didn’t recognize you. Come.”
“I am sorry we did not make your acquaintance earlier,” Amadeo said.
“Of course. You were too busy helping us the moment you arrived,” Gria said, bowing back. “I am thankful for your assistance. I don’t believe the danger is over yet.” She glanced at Lor Botho and the other miners accompanying him. They wore bulky jackets and frowned as they flanked their manager—almost like muscle backing up a spice delivery, which Amadeo had witnessed firsthand when they were on a mission near Kessel.
As they walked along the river, there was an obvious absence of sound besides the trickling water. No birds or any other creatures made a squeak or chirp or song.
“It’s so quiet here,” Amadeo said to Gria.
“It’s not always quiet. Usually the air is filled with music. The whistling songs of my people. The calls of the creatures. But the wild things have fled. They know there are more tremors coming.” She grimaced. “It’s not the same here. There is a bitter taste in the water. Our crops are not as vibrant. It used to be so green. And now the yellow of dying plants creeps in everywhere.”
“We are aware of the changes around Charbana,” Lor Botho said. “We are here to help.”
“You could help by leaving,” Gria said.
Master Lox was watching them both but gave Amadeo a glance that said, You see where this is going?
Amadeo knew the answer. The quakes must have been a seismic consequence of drilling too much and too quickly. The mine was probably producing toxic residues that hurt the ecosystem. The miners clearly didn’t want the Jedi involved and were hoping they’d leave fairly soon. Amadeo was sure the miners were secretly armed beneath their jackets. Lor Botho wanted a quiet resolution to this problem, and he was keeping the Jedi and Gria Cappo away from observing eyes. Which was never a good sign.
Lor Botho was planning on killing the three of them. Amadeo was sure of it.
“We are planning,” Lor Botho said, turning around and facing the Jedi and Gria, “on leaving Mikkia.”
“Leaving!” Gria said, surprised.
Amadeo couldn’t hide the surprise on his own face. Master Lox glanced at everyone, taking in the news, but he seemed unperturbed, as usual.
“Yes. It’s too difficult to mine the akassia mineral. Cost-prohibitive, as they say. We’d like to help with the cleanup of Charbana, then abandon our mining complex.” Lor Botho bowed to Gria. “We should like to depart on good terms with your people, just as we arrived on good terms.” He turned to the four large miners accompanying him and held up a hand. “There isn’t much room inside, is there? Please stand by. I feel quite comfortable going in alone.” The other miners, two humans and two Pykes, stood back.
