As promised...
Part VIII
“I told the old kung ‘d keep quiet, but o’course ‘e squeals anyway, and I gotta pop ‘im!” Finished a wiry-looking Ubdurian, and he and his three companions burst into laughter.
“Tell ‘em,” hiccupped a dreadlocked human woman in full combat armor, slapping the helmet on her knee, “Tell ‘em what happened after!” The Ubdurian flashed a grin with his enormous teeth.
“Well then the barkeep comes out, lookin’ all—”
“Hoy,” interrupted another, a Duros laden down with explosive ordinance. He sat straight up, all traces of mirth gone, and pointed past the trees. Smoke was curling up out of the grass some distance away. The one beside him, a bearded man in various black leathers, stood and raised a set of macrobinoculars to his face as the armored woman slipped on her helmet.
“Can’t see anything,” the bearded man concluded in a hoarse voice. The Ubdarian responded by firing off a few blaster shots at the spot where the smoke rose. When there seemed to be no response, the woman cut in.
“We better check it.”
“Fine, you and Carm can go,” the Ubdarian said, nodding toward the pillar of smoke, “Me and Kay’ll watch the bikes.”
The Duros and the woman made their way unhurriedly towards the source of the smoke. The Ubdarian and the bearded man were soon reclined against the nearby trees, watching the progress of their companions. They hadn’t been at it long before the subtle hum of a power cell warming up sounded behind them. The Ubdarian groaned.
“Aw, for the love of—”
~~~
Setting the fire had been easy enough, though Bor’om had needed to cannibalize some parts from one of the blasters. The hard part had been doubling back around without being noticed. It seemed that the smoke had distracted them well enough, though he suffered a moment of panic as a blaster discharged several times. As he got closer he peeked over the top of the grass occasionally to gauge his progress, and theirs. Right as it seemed like the two sent to investigate the smoke were about to find it, he made his move. Slipping into the thinner stretch of grass, he waited until he was right beside one of the bikes before powering up his remaining blaster. At the same moment, he jumped onto the bike and brought the engine up from its idle. He could already hear shouts just meters away; looking up, he caught sight of the Ubdarian and the human man stepping out from behind the trees, weapons ready. One hand on the bike’s throttle, Bor’om leveled the pistol and squeezed off a few shots, driving them back into cover. As soon as they dove out of sight, he fired into the chassis of the second bike, which quickly caught fire, before its repulsors failed and it collapsed to the ground. Bor’om’s own bike gave a whine that told him the engine was ready, and he twisted the accelerator as hard as he could. The bike almost rocketed out from under him, but he got both feet in the stirrups just in time. His blaster wasn’t so lucky, and was torn from his grasp by the sudden acceleration. But he assured himself that he didn’t have to worry about it. With the other bike crippled, he was finally, truly, free.
Gunning the bike at full throttle, he took a wide arc toward the settlement, on the off chance that other search parties still waited along the path, but even with the detour, the outlying buildings of the settlement came into view after a short ride. He abandoned the bike before getting there, heading in on foot. With the sun high in the sky, the dusty streets were busy with people, and it was easy for him to blend in. He even traded the black robe he had been wearing for a loose gray shirt he found hanging on a line. Comfortable that he was less recognizable, he made his way toward the port. No sooner did he get within eyesight of the little spaceport than he saw a pair of figures that looked like they would be right at home among the slavers.
Everything about them, from their worn and well used gear to their heavy weapons separated them from the locals. He watched as they accosted several passing civilians, questioning and haranguing them before letting them go on their way. He was suddenly grateful he hadn’t tried to ride the speeder into town. Bor’om had no doubt they were there to find him. Moving among the buildings to a better vantage point, he was able to see just three ships docked at the port; a couple of small transports and a freighter. After several minutes of high-anxiety self debating, he decided to try the freighter. With the streets as busy as they were, it was fairly easy to get close to the platform, and once there, he walked purposefully passed the fueling crews and maintenance droids to the boarding ramp. Only as he set his foot down did he look back to see if he was being watched. Across the way, the thugs were confronting another pair of locals. Letting out a sigh of relief, Bor’om ascended the steps into the freighter. He decided instead of hiding to meet the captain and ask openly for help, and so he made his way to the bridge and waited in the copilot’s seat.
Only a few minutes later, a lithe alien with long green limbs, whose species he didn’t recognize, appeared at the door, prompting Bor’om to get quickly to his feet. It paused at the sight of him, blinking a pair large gray eyes with star-shaped irises. After a moment it stepped into the room, proceeding toward the controls, speaking as it did so from a thin mouth set very low on its face.
“What are you doing on my ship, human?” It asked, to his great relief, in Basic.
“With your assistance, I’m escaping capture.” He replied simply.
The alien settled into the pilot’s seat, and looked at him, saying nothing for a while. Then finally, “Are you a criminal?”
“No,” Bor’om answered quickly, “I had the misfortune of encountering slavers. They took me.”
“Slavers, on Terical?” Another long pause, “And you escaped them on your own?”
Bor’om looked away, out through the viewport, “Not without…making some sacrifices,” he adjusted the shirt he was wearing, ensuring his master’s bone and lightsaber remained covered.
Another long pause. Bor’om felt the alien’s eyes fixed on him, and presently his own gaze went from the window, to the floor, and back up to meet the alien’s stare. Bor’om was about to plead his case more, when the alien exhaled sharply through its slit-like nostrils, and then turned to the control console and began flipping switches. The freighter’s engines groaned to life beneath them.
“Do you know how to fly human?” It asked, still working the console.
Bor’om lowered himself into the seat, nodding slowly, “I’ve had some basic training.”
“Good, I’ll need a co-pilot to bring this ship into Graymar Station. Once I deliver this cargo and pick up a new hand, I’ll take you where you’re going.”
“Coruscant,” Bor’om said quietly, as he watched the surface of the planet drop away beneath them, “I’m going to Coruscant.”
~~~
It was a short, quiet journey. In part, it was a welcome change; as they left the planet, Bor’om felt the minds of its people grow progressively weaker in his own mind, until they vanished altogether. He was left with just a feeling of The alien refused to tell Bor’om it’s name, or listen to his. In fact, it seemed pleased to learn that he didn’t even know what species it was. It wasn’t averse to telling him why, either.
“You might be an escaped slave, human. Or you might be an escaped criminal. Your word isn’t much to go on, so the less information we share, the better for both of us. Well, mostly the better for me. But I think that’s a fair trade for transport.”
Bor’om couldn’t argue with the captain’s logic, and as that seemed to put a stop to their conversation, remained silent, thinking, during the journey to Graymar Station. It was an unremarkable looking mining platform in an asteroid field, all spindles and landing pads and a web of cables reaching out to the nearest rocks. He remained aboard the ship as the captain went to unload his cargo, and when he returned with a heavyset Duros, Bor’om merely nodded and left the cockpit to them. He spent most of the last leg of the trip in the ship’s washroom, replacing his old bandages, and trying to avoid his haggard reflection. His back was still a pulpy mass of angry reds and crusty black, but the nerves no longer felt raw, or twinged at the slightest movement, though he couldn’t be sure how much of that was the natural healing and how much was his continued use of the Force to control the pain.
When he finished he sat down in the privacy of the washroom and drew out his master’s lightsaber. He had tried a couple of times to fix it while on the run, but everything had been working against him, and he never succeeded in getting more than a fizzle out of it. He held it up at eye level, slowly turning the hilt, noting the cracks and scoring, every dent and scratch. The recessed activation stud seemed to be fine, judging by the hilt’s response to pressing it. He peered through the bent and broken emitter windows and saw there was a sizable chip missing from the emitter itself. Tracing the seam of the hilt casing, he was pleased to note that the large gouges in the metal hadn't crossed it. Perhaps it could still be safely dismantled. Tentatively, he gave the lower half of the hilt a firm, steady twist. It moved as though undamaged. He carefully separated the two halves, exposing the chassis core. There, nestled at the heart, no larger than his thumb, was the blue crystal that his master had given life.
He concentrated on it, and immediately felt his back prickle as he shifted focus, but he grimaced and kept his eyes on the crystal. It shuddered in its mount for a moment, and then jolted free, floating just a few inches in front of Bor’om’s face. The Force it had been imbued with was as strong as ever, he could feel it. Would it have turned out differently if she had been stronger in the Force? Would she have lived if
he had been? The slowly rotating crystal gyrated faster and faster as these thoughts chased a thousand possibilities through his mind. This group, this “Court,” they would pay for the suffering they’d caused. He was brought back to reality by the wailing of an alarm; the signal that they would be dropping out of hyperspace. Sure enough, a moment later he felt the subtle change in momentum. His chest tightened as the reality of it set in. He had made it back. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Coruscant just yet. Guiding the crystal carefully back into its housing, he distracted himself looking at the surrounding parts of the chassis, but couldn’t gauge the extent of the damage. His examination was interrupted by a voice over the intercom.
“Human,” the alien’s voice, slightly distorted by the speaker, was impassive as ever, “We’ll be landing in a minute. Meet me at the boarding ramp.”
Sighing heavily, he rejoined the two halves of the hilt, and after a last, long look at the hilt, he slipped it back into his belt and made his way down to the boarding ramp. The lanky alien was there waiting as the ramp descended.
“Here we part ways, Human,” it said simply.
“Yes,” Bor’om paused, tasting the scent of Coruscant’s air for the first time, “Thank you. You know, I’m willing to bet the Jedi would be able to compensate you for helping me.”
The alien raised a scaly brow, “Jedi? I wondered. No, my peace and quiet will be compensation enough.”
It was Bor’om’s turn to raise an eyebrow, but when it became clear that the alien was serious, he smiled.
“Fair enough. Thank you,” bowing slightly, he descended the ramp onto the landing pad, and no sooner had he hailed a transport, than the freighter’s engines fired and the ship disappeared.
Settling into the air taxi, Bor’om eyes scanned the cityscape.
“So, where to, human?” The driver asked.
Bor’om squinted at the five towers on the horizon.
“The Jedi Temple.”