Strong Bonds; Chapter 3

Strong Bonds; Chapter 3

Dustil Onasi fingered his drink, lifting the half empty cup from the counter top and watching as the clear liquid swirled within its confines. Water was hard to come by on Tatooine, and this single glass had cost him more credits than he earned in a week. But it had been worth it to feel the cold liquid quench his thirst once more, and to use it to rinse the taste of that horrid mess, that they served in the cantina, from his mouth.

Loneliness had driven him to the cantina. He knew that the Jedi were supposed to be solitary creatures, filled with mystery, and through the force able to stem their emotions and find solitude in their surroundings, but as far as he knew the Jedi were disbanded and scattered, and his title as Jedi Knight was nothing more than a death wish if bandied in the modern galaxy. Besides wasn't he human, and humans needed companionship almost as much as they needed air.

His exile to Tatooine had taken its toll on him. The planet was harsh and full of massive force powers, enough to hide him from the Sith, but it beat at him constantly its twin suns hovering menacingly above him. He had taken up a job working to protect freighters crossing the barren desert between the scattered cities, but lately the sand people had been scarce, and his protection was needed less and less.

Now was a time of quiet, even the normally vociferous bar was calm now, it occupants unusually quiet. In the background, hidden behind hazy smoke a few aliens muttered together in a series of clicks, and on the opposite end a twilek dancer leaned against the wall absentmindedly twisting one of her red lekku through her fingers. But still it was more life than Dustil had seen in a month, and he found that their presence in the force comforted him. Towards the door he felt the force tense, as two drunkards tussled over who would pay the tab, but in the end it was settled and they went their separate ways.

As the two left, a woman entered. There was nothing physically wrong with her, she was petite, dressed in inconspicuous sand colored clothes, and a brown cape, but the force told a different story. Through it, Dustil could almost see how the river of life flowed through the room, streaming through every living thing within the bar, except her. It was as if a bubble had been placed around her, blocking the force from her. She was a void of nothingness, an anomaly that Dustil had never before encountered, and only ever heard of.

The woman strolled toward him, and slid purposefully onto the stool next to his. She ordered a glass of juma juice from the bar tender and then turned toward the young Jedi. 'Dustil Onasi, I presume. I would recognize your father's charm anywhere.' She laughed lightly, almost too lightly.

Dustil's face did not betray his surprise, and neither did his voice, 'Whinter Averrod, the only Jedi Knight I ever heard my step-mother praise. It is a pleasure to meet you.'

Pain blossomed beneath the older woman's eyes, Dustil saw rather than felt the anguish he had caused. He had just poured salt on an open wound, and he had no way of knowing how to stop the pain.

'I'm afraid she was mistaken, I was never a Jedi, and I never will be.'

He shifted uncomfortably, 'So what brings the most talked about ex-general in the Republic to my doorstep?' he took a sip of the water, feeling the luke-warm liquid trail down his throat.

She smiled, a somewhat forced smile, 'You, actually. Well, you and your father.'

He looked sharply up at her, 'My father?'

She nodded, seeming either not to have heard the distress in his voice or choosing to ignore it. 'Aye, Admiral Onasi asked me to find Revan. '

'So he sent you to me,' he snorted angrily, 'Well you've got the wrong guy. I don't know where Revan went, and I don't intend to find out. Its good riddance if you ask me. After all she's done to him you would think he would just give up and find another.'

'Calm down Onasi,' she said coolly, 'Your father didn't send me to you. I came because I think you know more about Revan's departure than anyone else.'

Dustil was beginning to feel uncomfortable about where the conversation was going. If there was one thing Ex-General Averrod was famous for, it was for finding the truth. Republic Soldiers still told stories in the mess halls about the detective work she had done and how she had even caught the infamous Tulan Sar, a bandit and traitor known for smuggling military secrets to the Mandalorians.

After a long moment of silence she breached the subject again, 'Look. I know that you don't know anything about Revan's departure, but what about a woman named Breena Quee? It seems to me, that there have been a lot of transmissions coming into Mos Eisley, via a secret Jedi transmission. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?'

He shrugged the question off, 'I wouldn't know. None of us were told where the others would be. Perhaps there is another Jedi finding his home upon Tatooine.'

The woman rolled her eyes skywards, 'I may not have the force, but I am no fool. The Masters would never place more than one Jedi upon the planet. The risk was too great, and more than likely the planet would have been swarming with Sith the moment your feet hit the sand. No. You are the only one here, and you are the only one with access to a Jedi transmission code.'

In the background a stringy melody began to flow throughout the foggy bar as more patrons began to enter into the room. A pair of almost human creatures entered followed by a being made mostly of tentacles. Dustil glanced at them warily, drawing Whinter's eyes in that direction.

'Look,' he said, keeping his voice as low as he could, 'I don't know where you come from, but around here the Jedi aren't exactly revered. So I suggest we take this elsewhere. Then, if it is truly your intent to find Revan, we can discuss this Breena Quee without interruptions.'

Whinter nodded, seeming to understand how fragile and sensitive the Jedi reputation had become. Dustil knew that around here it was almost fatal to mention it. The word 'Jedi' had become Voodoo, and a curse word. And in Mos Eisley no one spoke those words unless they wanted trouble.

Dustil paid the bartender, and then led Whinter out into the glaring light, and out into the barren desert, where few men visited and even fewer returned from.

(~)

Visas Marr could see the echo of Atton's anger. It was scattered throughout the room, much like the pieces of the shattered consul. Droids moved about the room, picking up the fragments, and removing burn marks from the stonework, but there was no one else around. Sadness permeated through her, the emptiness that once was filled with Master Averrod only fed that sadness. She had not felt this much loneliness since the day her first master had destroyed her planet.

Sighing, she unconsciously reached for her lightsaber, the metal felt cold to her touch, as if the force power that had once flowed freely through it had now been blocked. Curious she unhooked it from her belt and then slid her finger over the activations button....

Nothing happened. There was no whining hum, no striking beam of singing force power, nothing. It was dead to the force, just as the one who had made it was dead to the force. Visas found that her limbs were shaking with grief and sorrow, but she managed to carefully dissect the lightsaber and pull free the power crystal from within the tube of metal. The yellow-gold stone was now as black as night. Through the force she prodded it, if she had had sight she would not have believed her own eyes, but the force had never steered her wrong. The crystal had been sucked free of all its Force.

She remembered Whinter telling her that this had once been her crystal, something that had connected itself to her and had fed off of her energy. Whinter had asked her to hold it for her, to keep it until she could trust herself not to taint it with the dark side. Visas had reluctantly agreed, and although Whinter had proved her honor and her compassion over and over again, she had never taken the crystal back. Now the Miralukan woman held it in her hands, a painful reminder that Whinter was gone, and also a painful symbol of the situation with Atton.

Pushing past her grief, she found herself searching for the echo again. The anger was bright, but as she searched she began to see that it was not the only thing present within the force. Fear lingered behind the fury. Visas shook her head; something within her told her that there was more behind Atton's attack then just anger. There was something sinister lingering in the force, but as was often true of the darkside, it was hard to see.

'Visas?' exclaimed Mira rushing through the broken doorway. The girl wrapped her scarred and burnt arms around her. 'I'm so glad you're back. We were so worried. Did you find Atton? What about Whinter? Do you think that she's alright?'

The older woman was shocked; the girl's emotions were like sirens blaring within her mind. Prominent among those emotions was confusion and fear. Visas knew how she felt, she felt it in her own soul, raging against her and threatening to break through her Jedi training. 'Calm down Mira, now is not the time to lose control. '

Mira pulled away from her. 'You didn't find him, did you?'

She shook her head, thinking back on her trip across the plains following Atton's trail, 'No, he has escaped the planet. He stole a ship from one of the old family plantations on the plains and left.'

Determination flared before the Miralukan's senses. Mira's voice was hard and Visas could hear the old Mira return, the one who knew only slavery, death, and betrayal. 'I can bring him back. I've done it before. It's just a matter of knowing your target and then following that knowledge to the source. I know Atton, I can find him.'

'No, absolutely not,' snapped Visas, 'We need you here Mira. Mikal, Bao-dur, both need you. I need you. Now is not the time to separate. Master Averrod was correct, the galaxy needs us here. We must do as she instructed and rebuild the Jedi order. She can take care of Atton herself, we must trust that she will know what to do. For now, no one leaves the enclave. We have work to do."

She knew that Mira could feel the truth of her statement through the Force. Whatever else may be going on here, the Force was leading them toward the beginning of a new era for the Jedi order, an era begun by Whinter Averrod. Visas was determined not to let her work go down the drain. It was time for the Jedi to return to the galaxy.

(~)

Whinter had followed Dustil for several hours before she first spotted the small hut that served as his home. It rose from the ground like a small hill, but as she entered into the shade that it offered she immediately felt the homeliness of it. The walls were painted in oranges and reds, and the floor was bare and cool to the touch. Everything spoke of life, and of the quiet existence that Dustil had built for himself.

One thing that she noticed most of all was the lack of holo-pictures. There was no smiling charismatic picture of Carth, no family portrait of the three, or even of his long gone mother, only the fading and chipped paint on the wall, and a collection of plants and herbs drying on a small shelf near a tiny window. Whinter, herself, had always carried a holo of her friends in her satchel, and if she had known her parents she would have carried one of them too, now she found it strange that the Onasi boy carried none. Sadness engulfed her, as she remembered the sadness that she had felt from Admiral Onasi. Could Dustil be one of the reasons for the regret she had felt from him?

Onasi rummaged in old boxes, finally bringing forth a small transmitter. He placed it on a cluttered table, clearing space for it and setting it neatly on the bare spot he had created.

'For the last several months, the Jedi transmission line has been buzzing with activity, coming from an untraceable source. The messages are usually garbled, but they are clear enough to decipher the significance of it,' said Dustil switching on the holo viewer.

Whin's heart jumped as the image appeared. Dark black hair hung chaotically around the woman's face. Violet eyes, ringed with black stared out from sunken sockets, calling her back to a place and time she had never wanted to revisit.

(~)

Twenty-year-old Whinter Averrod stood beside Revan, watching the sun sink below the lush foliage of Duxn. The normally placid noises of dusk were periodically interrupted by the sound of explosions and gun fire. Before them in place where the trees gave way to a small clearing of grass, lay the blood soaked bodies of those who had died that day. Among them was a good friend of theirs, Nitsotsa.

Later, the girl's body was laid on a platform, surrounded by wood, and as the flame began to consume both body and wood, Whinter turned away. She could no longer watch, could not bear to say goodbye to her childhood friend, not now, not in front of all of these people.

She went off alone into the jungle, fearing no creature, fearing only more loss. She wept for a while; in the solitude of the Force she mourned her friend. Then she felt another's grief join her own, and she looked up to see Revan standing above her tears streaming down her cheeks.

'She was so bright, so full of life and energy that it seemed she would fly away. What shall I ever do without her Rev? She was the only family I ever knew,' sobbed Whinter.

Revan looked at her with understanding, 'She is still here Whin. In the Force and in our hearts, you must always remember that. We are not alone, as long as we have the force.'

Whin nodded, 'I know. I've always known, but it's not the same. I can't speak to her, or hear her laugh, or listen to her songs around the fire anymore.'

Revan squeezed her shoulder comfortingly, 'Don't worry Whin, I'm here, we'll make it through together, I promise.'

'Ok,' said Whin half heartedly, 'just don't sing ok, you're horrible at it.'

Revan laughed, but it was a sad cheerless laugh. Whin found comfort in her friend's company, and hope in her words, but the pain still lingered and the loneliness still remained.

(~)

'Ne... help...... they're all around. The Republic is.....danger.....Jedi ......aid...... Please come, millions are dying.....I need help.............' The rest of the transmission gave way to crackling fuzz as the image faded away, but the moment Whinter heard Revan's plea, she knew that she could not ignore it. Time was running out, she had to find Revan before it was too late.

Dustil met her gaze then, and understanding sparked between them. Whinter revised her earlier thought. 'They had to find Revan, before it was too late.'