The Rebel Faction

Life aboard the spacers ship was, she found, tolerable.

Despite having lived her entire life thus far planet bound, her home an endless expanse of untamed nature, Taryn was taking quite well to space travel. Neither the claustrophobia her mentor had detailed nor the comparatively shoulder to shoulder living that cramped quarters brought were having any effect on her. She put that down to her Jedi training though she had not meditated or practices her breathing exercises. Watching the elongated lights of hyperspace shoot past the window of her cabin soothed her.

Taryn was going places.

Having been aboard the ship two days now, leaving her room only to fetch food or water, she had managed to avoid the majority of the crew which was to her estimation a good thing. She had yet to see a smile or friendly gesture. Something had soured their mood, it was palpable through the force. Her own social skills were hampered by her up-bringing and she could not bring herself to extend the olive branch of friendship.

Her modest belongings, little more then a sack containing her lightsaber, robes and a few other necessities were folded in to a pile at the foot of her bed.

Modest, she reflected, just like her.

She postulated, “This is no way for a Jedi to behave.”

Jedi were, according to her teachings, active participants in the affairs around them. They ingratiated themselves with others, they did not segregate themselves from the people around them. As a young girl she had trouble rationalizing this with Master Lo's method. If Jedi were supposed to be social beings, why had he chosen to raise her in solitude? When asked, Lo would only say that nothing in the Universe was perfect and that he was just doing the best he could. When the time came, he would add, the burden would be on her as a fully trained and equipped Jedi to bridge the gap between herself and the rest of the galaxy.

Master Lo's words came to her, “Everything in life is a trial. Living is a Jedi's final test.”

Resolved to a course of action Taryn stood beside her cot, fetched her cloak and stepped out of her quarters on to the main passenger deck.

“Watch it!”

A Dug, an impish fellow with long tendrils for moustaches, barked at her, “Coming through!”

The little creature was struggling to get a wood-bound crate down the narrow corridor. It was easily the size of the Dug and almost as wide as the hall. There was no where for Taryn to go but backwards. Eyeing the door to her quarters, she swallowed hard and started backing down the hall.

“I'm sorry,” she offered. “Can I help you with that?”

“Damn thing,” the Dug cursed and Taryn silently hoped it was directed at the crate. “Ain't gonna float itself now, is it?”

“It could.” Taryn drew in a breath. “Watch...”

Her calm focus came quickly to her. The part of her that, like the eye of a storm, remained forever calm washed over her. It was the force and she opened herself to it. Then, with a gesture, the ungainly box seemed to grow suddenly weightless in the arms of the Dug. His eyes opened wide, confusion marking his features.

“Hey,” he demanded. “What the...?”

And then the box was floating. Out of his hands entirely it drifted effortlessly towards Taryn who, keeping pace, back stepped in time. The Dug stood astounded.

It was a wonderful moment, but it didn't last.

Walking backward as she had been, Taryn failed to notice the lip at the end of the corridor. Her attention was so wrapped up in keeping the box afloat her extended senses did not warn her in time and she tripped accordingly. Tumbling backwards Taryn lost her focus. The box came crashing down, its contents scattering along the length of the hall and half burring the Dug in the process. Taryn meanwhile managed to catch herself falling with enough grace and dignity to avoid smashing her skull on the hard decking or scuffing her knees on the grating. It was too late for the crate.

The Dug spat and cursed in his native tongue. At least, Taryn assumed it was a curse given his enthusiasm.

“I'm sorry,” she offered again, regaining her feet. “I will clean this up...”

“Damn right you will,” the Dug agreed. He was having trouble extricating himself from the cargo which Taryn now realized was food stuffs, dry packed and dehydrated.

She offered to help him out of the mountain of tetra-packed supplies but he only waved her off, adding, “I don't need you busting me wide open as well, kid.”

That stung more then it should have.

Taryn was glad then when the Dug had finally managed to pull himself out of the mess as he then promptly stomped off. She doubted he would be back until she'd cleaned everything up or, if he did return in short order, it would be with the ships captain, Spanner, in tow. The man had seemed a bundle of angst and aggravation when she first met him and did not look forward to being shouted at. Some people took any excuse.

“You are a Jedi,” the voice of the old one reminded her. “You are luminous.”

His voice, the memory of his teachings coming to her from beyond time, beyond space, calmed her nerves. Her cool resolve that was the Jedi's strongest ally, returned. Where she had seen a disaster, the crate broken and its contents spilled, she could see opportunity; redemption. A thing that was once whole, she believed, could always be fixed.

She set about her work and as she worked she recited the Jedi's oath.

“Jedi are the guardians of peace.”

She breathed deep.

“Jedi use their powers for defence and protection.”

The words came to her easily as she worked and her work became meditation, “Jedi respect all life, in any form.”

“Jedi serve others for the good of the galaxy.”

“Jedi,” she placed the last package into the repaired crate, “seek to improve themselves through knowledge and through training.”

Taryn, pleased, allowed herself a moment of positive reflection for a job well done.

“Is that all true?”

She spun, the voice startling her, only to find the spacer rogue standing behind her.

“All that Jedi stuff,” he went on. “Is it true?”

She nodded.

“I'm sorry about the box...”

“Don't,” he cut her off. “Water under the bridge.”

She quirked a brow.

“It's an expression,” he explained. “Take a walk with me.”

The box, she gestured to it.

“Leave it,” he ordered.

So, they walked. For a long time Spanner was quiet, gathering his thoughts. This gave Taryn time to take in the ship which was, she noted, much larger then she had originally thought. Faces passed her by, those of the crew going about their business. She counted six new faces, added to those she had already seen, and guessed the crew to be about ten to twelve strong. The ship itself was a modified freighter sporting reinforced armour, gun blisters and quarters in place of a cargo hold. Taryn, curious about this, broke their silence.

“Why so many bunks?” She asked.

“Hmm?” Spanner seemed to miss the question.

Taryn repeated herself. “Why do you have so many beds, so many quarters?”

“The Reavers,” Spanner offered, by way of an explanation. Seeing her still confused expression, he went on, “Lots of people need rescue these days, from the Reavers or whatever. We go in and get 'em out.”

He explained, “There's good money in being a hero these days.”

Wincing, she surmised, “You profit from others misfortune?”

Spanner stopped dead in his tracks, turned and fixed Taryn with a thousand yard stare, “Look kiddo, I don't know what you think you know about the galaxy growing up with monks on a backwater world, but I help people and help ain't free. So what if I make a buck? I'm not hurting anyone.”

“No,” she agreed before adding under her breath, “you're just not doing as much as you could.”

He missed it, thankfully, and went on, “It's like you...”

“I get sent to rescue a bunch of damn holy men and what do I end up with? One kid and a bunch of books!”

Cautious not to give away too much about herself too easily, particularly in the company of a scoundrel such as Spanner, she quickly changed topic, “Books?”

“Yeah,” Spanner sighed as the resumed their walk. “The old mollusks wouldn't go, so they sent their library instead. Some hero that makes me, huh? Bringing home a bunch of books while the monks stay there, on the front lines.”

“Can I see them?” She asked, adding, “And is it really that bad out here?”

“The books? What do I care, knock yourself out,” Spanner waved a hand dismissively. He assumed she had been among the monks and so the books, he also assumed, were probably hers anyway. “And yeah kid, it's worse then bad.”

“The Reavers are a menace and they're not keeping to their borders.” Spanner was very up to date on galactic events. “So instead of the Dragun Empire we get raving zombies? Not a fair trade you ask me. And that's just the start of it...”

He fixed her with a sidelong stare, “Are you really a Jedi?”

“Yes,” Taryn nodded.

“Be careful out here kid, this ain't no galaxy for a Jedi any more.” In quick, point form he summarized the events on Coruscant and the Cree'Ar invasion. He told her about the fragmented Empire and the newly minted Republic and then he told her about the Cree'Ar demands, saying, “So you've gotta be careful. There's privateers, like me, netting up Jedi and Sith and whatever else they can to turn them over to the Cree in the hope that they can buy themselves a piece.”

“Like you?” Taryn fingered the hilt of her sabre beneath her cloak. “How's that?”

Spanner laughed, “You're safe with me kid.”

She doubted that but trusted herself.

“Anyway, the books are in the lower hold. Dinner is at eighteen thirty.”

He paused, clear that their paths were about to part for the time being and asked, “You're welcome to dine with me?”

She smiled.



In the lowest hold of the ship, stacked neatly and sealed against damage, the collected works of the monks sat quietly, stoically. Many of the tomes were ancient while others were much more recent. The penned works of their order had been preserved since its foundation. This was a point of extreme irony considering that primary among their edicts was the writ to abandon the past, ignore the future and live only in the present. As such many of the books and scrolls had not been read or opened since their writing.

As she worked her way through their archives Taryn started to believe that the monks, while not truly aligned with the force, were somehow in tune with it. They spoke of tolerance and temperance, wrote parables extolling the values of selflessness, of service to others. Of particular note were their allusions to a path of least resistance and that truth and peace could only be attained through the complete and total abandonment of self and ego.

They dappled, occasionally, in what could only be called the dark side. Though their sojourns to the dark side were few and far between they tended to impact the order deeply based on the writings around and following those periods. Fortunately their explorations in the dark were very, very limited and never was true evil embraced by any although those touched by the dark side carried its mark for the rest of their written lives. Taryn herself had been tempted by the darkness and knew how compelling it was but where the monks had been alone in their exploration she had a powerful mentor to guide her.

She wondered about Master Lo, what he was doing just then. The monks were lucky to have him and she would miss him. Though the galaxy was large, she hoped their paths would cross again soon. Her ambition to return home was tempered by her desire to see the galaxy, first hand, and become a part of it rather then just watching it go by.

Taryn thought this ironic, reading the monks texts, as they espoused the values “remaining small” as one monk had put it.

A line of particular note distinguished itself, reading it aloud she read back, “Always be a part of your surroundings.”

With dismay she realized that she had been avoiding that since her arrival on the ship and, outside of her conversation with Spanner, she might as well not have been there at all. The ships name escaped her, an oversight she knew, as a ships name was of importance to its captain and crew. The crew too was a mystery to her. She had seen their faces, heard their names, yet they were nothing more then a backdrop to her story. Inadvertently she had minimized those around her and enlarged herself.

Her eyes weary, Taryn closed the book she had been reading along with her eyes and ears. The world that was the cargo hold faded and was replaced by the force. She had never meditated during space flight let alone during a hyperspace jump and she found the feeling most jarring. Where her transitions to the astral plane had been smooth, welcome events back home here, amongst the stars, the change was sudden and overwhelming.

In the space between the stars she felt only darkness.

She wondered, was this how space-bound Jedi fell to the dark side so easily? The force connected her to all the life around her, but out here there was nothing but the open emptiness of space. Taryn struggled to find peace in it and the realization was slow to arrive. It was not the space between that played host to the dark side, it played host to something else, something dark.

Out of the nothing that was hyperspace came a face. It appeared with shocking abruptness, resolving in to sudden, painful clarity. The face was twisted, horrifyingly disfigured. It was a hybrid of man and machine twisted by some dark, ambivalent force. Flesh turned to steel and steel back to flesh in the space of a single face. Grime and blood gathered in the cracks and creases, caked on.

The face, roaring, swallowed her up.

Taryn sat upright, eyes bolting wide and with terror on her tongue she said, “Reavers...”

She awoke again to the smell of smoke. It was sweet and familiar like the smell of home, not acrid like the smoke aboard Spanner ship, during the attack. Wood smoke filled her nostrils.

Taryn, roused from unconsciousness, blinked her eyes open and attempted to sit up. The world swam, darkness tugging at the edge of her vision.

“Lay back down,” someone was telling her, a man.

“Spanner,” she guessed, groggily. “Is that you?”

Her vision cleared.

They were in a wood, a small clearing atop a rolling rise in some unrecognizable forrest. It was dark. Taryn could not tell how late the hour was and, she realized, it probably would not matter anyway. A fire crackled nearby. The stars looked down on her, peering suspiciously at the young Jedi woman through a break in the trees.

Spanner was at her side. His expression, difficult to read, was somewhere between concern for her well being and something else, fear perhaps.

She asked, “Where are we?”

The spacer shrugged.

“Don't know,” he said, “but we aren't out of the woods yet.”

Taryn blinked and after a moment Spanner added, “No pun intended.”

Relying on her Jedi training, Taryn was recovering quickly when it dawned on her that aside from Spanner, they were alone.

“Reavers?”

Spanner shrugged, “Don't know.”

“And the crew,” Taryn asked, standing. “Where's the rest of the crew?”

“Don't know,” he put, simply and finally. Sensing that Taryn was ready to move, Spanner stood and moved over to his fire. “We can't stay here. We have to keep moving. They're out there.”

“The Reavers?” Taryn looked herself over, patting her pockets and belt. Her lightsaber was still there, tucked in its pouch. She had a few other supplies as well, but not for wilderness survival. “We didn't loose them in space?”

Wearing a deeply creased frown, Spanner locked eyes with Taryn.

“We lost them,” he emphasized the last word. “But we picked up something else.”

Spanner, kicking out the small fire with his boot, began patting at his own pockets.

“The damage was pretty bad, but when the Reavers boarded us, it was too late. You almost stopped them, saved most of the crew too.”

From inside one of his pockets, Spanner produced a cylinder. He tossed it to Taryn, remarking, “The battery is fully charged.”

She examined it. It was an emergency torch.

“From the escape pod,” Spanner informed her. “We thought you'd stopped them, but more were aboard... Had to make a break for the escape pods.”

Taryn, scanning the woods, could have surmised the rest though Spanner went on just the same.

“They, the crew that is, covered our retreat. They...”

Despite herself, tears gathered at the edges of her eyes. In the extreme low light, what little night vision she had blurred to total obscurity. She, the Jedi, had done her duty and, in the course of it, saved the lives of the ships crew. Except, she didn't. And when they came after the crew again, the Reavers did not have a Jedi between them and the civilian crew because she had let her guard down, had let herself get hurt. The crew, heroic and stupid all at once, had sacrificed themselves to cover Spanners escape, him carrying her unconscious body on his shoulders.

Bits and pieces had filtered through and she remembered them now; a Dug physically assaulting one of the Reavers, going at the zombie with a pair of kitchen shears, a flash of a woman in a flight suit blasting away with her pistol until it ran empty and being thrown, albeit gently, into the escape pod. The explosive force of the launch must have knocked her out, again.

“Jaffer, the engineer. He stayed behind. Blew the ship once we were clear.”

It was all too much. Taryn felt ill, weak.

Just then, however, her attention was drawn to the treeline. Something was out there. Spanner had said they weren't out of danger.

Her hand snapped to her side. Fingers closed around her lightsaber, Taryn searched in the darkness wiping her eyes clear with the hem of her sleeve.

For just a moment she wondered if Master Lo would be proud of her for being so quick on her guard or would he reprimand her for letting her guard falter at all. A Jedi and a woman, she balanced her feelings of remorse with the need to remain ever vigilant against the dark side.

Lo, she thought to herself, I miss you.

A beam of light splashed at her feet and then Spanner was beside her, flashing his light against the trees. He had a particle rifle under one arm and with his free hand was searching the trees for movement.

They could hear the bushes rustling but could not find the source.

Taryn felt as though she was repeating herself, “What are they?”

“Don't know,” offered Spanner. “After I dragged you out of the pod, just moments after, I heard them. We weren't alone in the life pod, but we are now. New kid, managed to make it to the pod with us. These things,” Spanner waved the rifle at the trees, “out there, they took the kid so fast I only got a glimpse. He screamed, once.”

“I threw you over my shoulder and ran.” The would-be rescuer seemed exhausted. “What I saw, looked like some sort of lizard.”

The Jedi, sensing Spanners exasperation, took over.

“Probably a pack predator. There's no telling their numbers.”

If she had the time, or the skill of Master Lo at her disposal, she could turn to the force; detect their numbers, position and possibly even affect their perception. She, a knight by title, lacked the real world experience of her mentor. If it came to combat, however, Taryn felt sure she could hold her own.

“We need to find shelter, somehow.” Taryn shot Spanner a look, “Did you see anything coming in?”

Spanner shrugged, “Mountains, maybe.”

Something in the way she had asked, or what she had asked, caused in him a flash of disparity and she thought she knew why. Spanner was a trained rescue and retrieval operative who had let the situation get the best of him. And all because he had been focused on keeping her alive. Taryn realized, she owed this man a great debt of gratitude.

She wouldn't let him die here.

“Which way?”

Spanner gestured, “That way. Maybe fifty clicks.”

“Maybe,” he added gravely.

“It's something,” the Jedi reassured the spacer. “Let's go.”

Taryn marveled at the creatures speed, they moved through the thick undergrowth as if it wasn't there. Their mounts, now that she had been close enough to tell, were very nearly human. They were, perhaps a little taller and more lithe, yet aside from their extra digits, very near baseline humans. And they steered their mounts easily, in stride with their every kick and thrust. Were it not for her hold on his body Taryn would surely have been thrown.

It was not awkward, however. After all she had been through Taryn was thankful for their arrival. The rider, for his part, seemed to ignore her presence behind him. Wether by intent or distracted by the task of steering his steed, Taryn did not know. Maybe natives had mistaken Taryn and Spanner for their own, or perhaps these weren't the first off world types they'd seen. Either way, she was glad they had come along when they did.

Spanner, clutching on to the saddle, rode behind the other native not far off her flank.

She wanted to call out to him, to say something, but she could not find the words.

And then, all at once, they broke from the forest. A great, empty plain of rolling grassland stretched out endlessly before them. In the full glow of a near-by moon (Taryn noted only one moon) the plains seemed infinite.

The riders did not pause and once in the open their mounts put on such a sudden turn of speed that Taryn nearly fell from the saddle. Her rider effortlessly reached behind himself, steadying her.

“Do not fall,” he huffed. “Do not look back.”

Naturally, she did.

The creature, whatever had taken up the chase in place of the pack which had been hunting them, broke from the trees. It was unlike anything Taryn had ever seen. Master Lo had told her stories about great dragons, he called them Kyrat. As a child she had imagined them. This, she realized, was worse.

It was massive, and even thinking it she found the word too small. Not massive, she considered, gargantuan.

She turned back.

“It will not follow us far from the trees,” the rider assured her.

“How far is far?” She asked, “If you're that big.”

The rider might have chuckled, she couldn't tell, though he did spur his mount on. He called at it, loudly, with shouts and screams, and the creature responded, putting its long head low, into the wind, with its tail flat out behind itself like some giant keel.

Eyes closed against the rushing wind, her head pressed against the riders back, and the thumping, pounding footfalls of their mount, Taryn felt connected to the force in a way that had escaped her since leaving Lo. The energy, the vibrations, seemed to be speaking to her through the force. Her breathing slowed and time seemed to slow with it. The ways of the Jedi trance came to her more easily here, amidst this chaos of activity, then it had in the most serene moments at home.

Taryn slipped deeper into her meditation, connecting with the beast beneath her. She had shared the astral plane with Master Lo and he had taught her to influence the minds of others but this was unlike anything she had known before. It was not as though she was viewing the animal, as she might in some projective state, nor was it like touching a mind, forcing it to behave in particular way. This was more intimate, as though they shared the same thoughts.

Her senses filled with details, thousands of times more acute and percise then her own. Even with her eyes closed she could see, but her vision was changed; she could see with great detail the smallest blade of grass while the rest of the world became a blur. Smells unlike any scent known to the human nose wafted through her awareness and thens he was breathing hard, pumping breath into her lungs with great gulps of oxygen rich air. Her body, the physical part of her that was muscle, bone and flesh, seemed as one with the mount and it became effortless to remain astride.

On the very edge of their shared senses Taryn became aware of the creature retreating to the forest and their shared sense of anxiety began to fade.

The riders slowed their mounts and Taryn felt her connection fading leaving in its place an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. With a heavy breath she slumped against the rider.

“Breath easy,” he remarked. “My village is close.”

“You are safe now.”

Taryn sat, legs crossed, before a bountiful spread.

She marveled at the food, marveled at how the Grass People had brought together such a feast so suddenly and all just to make two strangers, two aliens, feel welcome. Eyes wet with gratitude, she studied the spread and cast a sidelong glance at Spanner.

Old Eyes, his family and most of the tribe had gathered around the blanket upon which the offering had been set. The blanket, more of a rug, was a woven tapestry with depictions of giant lizards and wooly mammals and covered a significant area of ground. Dishes carved of hollowed wooden knots or from the bones of some great creatures, decorated with colorful paints, offered an array of strange and wonderful smelling... things.

A series of torches were arranged around the blanket and carried by members of the tribe. They burned with bright, yellow flame. What they burned, however, was a mystery but these were not stone age torches.

Though they had thought the hour late, children of all ages crowded around Taryn and Spanner, utterly mesmerized by them.

Old Eyes had been fairly quiet since giving Spanner his new name, a name the children laughingly called him, as though waiting for the feast to be served before breaking the silence that had fallen between him and his guests. The Grass People continued to chatter, of course, but none of it was directed at Spanner or Taryn, though they guessed much of it was about them.

Thinking it best to respect their traditions, to observe their culture, Taryn and Spanner found themselves playing along, quietly. Always amicable, neither took offense at the comments they overheard or pushed away any who came close, inspecting the off world aliens with their hands.

Once around the blanket, Old Eyes spoke.

“Come,” he said, waving his hand over the food. “You must eat.”

Taryn was starving and Spanner was running on empty. If the food was poisoned, they didn't care. Once given the go ahead by the village elder, the pair dove in with abandon.

Spanner was a spacer, a hard core deep space smuggler, rogue and all around adventurer. He was trained in rescue and recovery, trained to survive in the most adverse conditions, trained for combat. The food, for all its strangeness, did not put him off for a moment.

Taryn was a Jedi, but more then that, she had been raised by an alien mollusk. Her definition of strange food didn't even compare.

They were well into stuffing their faces when they realized, with some measure of shame, that no one else was eating. Taryn swallowed a bite of something that tasted like corn, but had the texture of porridge and asked, “Aren't you eating.”

Old Eyes just smiled. “You are our guests,” he remarked. “First, feed your belly.”

He gestured reassuringly, “The Grass People are few on the plains. We live so others may live.”

“There is much danger alone,” Old Eyes smiled, the wrinkles on his face forming a roadmap of years lived. “You could be dead this night. You could be lost, alone.”

Leaning in, Old Eyes stared at them from across the blanket and the feast spread across it. “Think on this and enjoy what is now.”

“Where are we?” Spanner asked between bites of what might have been meat. “I mean, this planet. You seem to have a bit of tech, so I'm guessing you've had contact with off worlders before?”

Old Eyes half scoffed.

“Men and beasts from the sky have come before,” Old Eyes agreed. “Like you.”

Taryn noticed a heavy inflection on that last part, directed at Spanner.

She spoke up, “But they are gone?”

Nodding heavily, Old Eyes explained, “There is much danger here. Many come alone, they want to be alone. They are angry and they attack the People with their... tech... The People of the Grass and of the Forest and the Mountains offer welcome but they do not come for peace and without the People to show them how to live...”

“Others come with peace in their hearts,” Old Eyes was studying Taryn as he spoke now. “They find home here, with the People.”

Taryn asked, “With your people? The Grass people?”

“Some are my people,” his head bobbed. “Some are not. The Hill People, the Marsh People.”

They had stopped eating, Spanner having gorged himself while Taryn ate only to satisfaction. As if some unspoken agreement had been made, the people started to crowd on to the blanket, joining them. A small child, a girl, crawled in to Taryns lap, playing with her hair.

“I would like to learn more about the People,” Taryn spoke to Old Eyes, intermittently distracted by the child. “And about your lands also.”

“You will stay this night,” Old Eyes went on. “On the new sun we will talk more.”

“Thanks,” Spanner smiled, bits of maybe seeds stuck in his teeth. “But we've really gotta get going as soon as possible. You could just point us in the direction of... however we get off this rock?”

And then, despite herself, Taryn smacked Spanner upside his head and once it was done, and they were staring one another in the eye with looks of bemused aggravation, Taryn wasn't quite sure why she'd done it yet she was glad she had. It was out of character for her, she realized, but it had felt good.

“Of course we will accept your hospitality,” Taryn said, her gaze returning to Old Eyes. “And thank you, Old Eyes. You, your people, saved our lives this night.”

“I know,” replied the elder, standing. “I know.”

That night, for the first time since leaving her home, Taryn slept soundly under an open, starry sky.

"What?" Spanner, confused, asked. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you want to go..." He trailed off.

"Home?" Taryn shot back angrily. "My home is on the frontline of a war I did not ask for. It was war that stranded us here."

She, looking around herself at the meger dwellings, their subsitence lifestyle so appealing to her, gave Spanner a long, contemplative sigh. Reflecting on her adventure thus far, Taryn found the relative peace, the sense of restfulness she felt here. Even allowing herself, just for a moment, to toy with the notion of bringing Master Lo here, away from the galactic turmoil. So much could be gleaned from living among The People.

"I am not ready to leave," she stated flatly. "I won't stop you from going."

For his part, Spanner shot her a look of utter incredulity. That soon passed, however; only to be replaced by one of outrage.

"Listen here, little miss Jedi," he began, ranting. "Because of you I lost my ship, my crew and everything I own in the galaxy. I've damn near been Reaver bait, dino chow and after that ride last night I will probably never have children! So, if you think I am leaving this rock without you, you're sorely mistaken. I intend to get paid, after all this, and for that I need something to show for it. That something is you!"

Taryn rounded on him, knuckled balled into fists.

"You bullheaded..." she searched herself, eyes landing on the mounts, "dunnak!"

Old Eyes chose that moment to interject. Inserting himself flawlessly into the conversation, he stepped between the pair to impart a piece of wisdom.

"We all must walk our own path," the elder offered. "When we cross paths with others it is good not to become confused who walks where."

It was at this point that they realized, simultaneously, that neither had been invited to stay. In their sudden awkwardness all thoughts of arguing the matter seemed to fade. How ethnocentric a behavior, they seemed to say, to behave with such entitlement, such presumption.

Old Eyes, however, simply smiled. "Of course," he paused to put arms around their shoulders, "You are welcome to remain with us. It is unsafe to travel during the rut. Had we not seen your fall from the sky we would not have sent riders to search, it is too dangerous to be out without reason... and a fast dunnak."

Spanner seemed to concede.

"There's probably no harm in staying," he said, pouting. "For now."

"Good," Old Eyes shook their shoulders. "You will have time to learn."

Exchanging glances, Taryn and Spanner asked in tandem, "Learn what?"

"Ha ha," the elder laughed mockingly. "Learn how to work, of course."

"Life is not all conversation and feasting, after all."

It was their turn to sigh, but it was better then being food for the lizards.