The intensity and movement was the same when Andrea met her son as when she met her friend. It had now been almost a year since she had seen Andrew, and he had grown… my how he had grown! He was truly developing into the young man that she always knew that he would become.
His father was something of a different story. He looked nervous; sweating, blinking too much. He had put on weight and not in the good areas. Perhaps most troubling, he had a friend with him. His friend did not look very friendly, instead appearing dirty and disheveled. She did not ask how the two had met and she frankly did not care to know.
Still… her boy had come!
“Oh Andrew, I’ve missed you so,” she said, holding him tightly. She released him a bit to look into his eyes. “Have you been good?”
“I have,” he said. He squirmed, wanting to be free, so she released him. He did not flee. “I’ve been studying a lot and eating well, like you told me.”
“Good, I’m glad,” she said, smiling. She leaned in a little closer, and dropped the volume of her voice. “Andrew, what would you say if I said I wanted you to live with me?”
His eyes beamed, but then he frowned. “Dad too?”
She frowned a little too. “Just me and you, Andrew.”
He looked down at his feet, then back up at her. “Does dad know?”
She sighed. “Not yet… and don’t say anything to him. This is something him and I should talk about by ourselves.”
She hugged her son again, and looked over his shoulder at the pair of men behind.
She had a bad feeling about this.
Photosynthesis is the process through which non-animal lifeforms, namely plants and algae, but sometimes also bacteria, create carbohydrate chains from breaking down carbon dioxide in the air. The process is dependent upon light, a carbon/oxygen atmosphere, and water. The carbon in the carbon dioxide reacts with the hydrogen in the water, catalyzed by the energy provided by the light. The resultant combination is usually sugar, often fructose. A byproduct of the equation not retained within the system is pure oxygen, released into the atmosphere as a waste product.
Through this process is created the building blocks for all life within a world. The light from the sun and the water from the atmosphere provides the plants with what they need to create the sugars by which they survive; metabolizing the organic carbon to create new cellular material and breaking down the compound to release energy by which they survive.
The waste product, oxygen, is a critical component in the life cycle of most organisms. The oxygen variation most commonly released by photosynthesis is dioxygen, which is two oxygen atoms fused together. Dioxygen reacts with pure hydrogen to create water, a compound necessary for many resultant reactions including, by coincidence, photosynthesis.
Besides that, dioxygen forms any number of a thousand organic solvents, saccharides, and amino acids. It is necessary to form the protein chain known as hemoglobin, which carries pure oxygen to cells throughout the animal body, where it is used to refresh depleted cells or to create entirely new ones. Without photosynthesis, pure oxygen would not exist on most worlds, and without pure oxygen, carbon based life would be impossible.
Yet, one does not notice photosynthesis.
The moisture in the air. The cool breeze. The snapping of the leaf underfoot. But not one of the most critical, fundamental processes necessary to create, and sustain, the ecosystem in which one lives. A process needed to keep the human heart beating. The very point of the human heart beating was to spread oxygen to the cells of the human body, and the process through which that oxygen was created was routinely ignored.
Sometimes, there were more important things for the heart to consider than staying alive.
“I don’t give a shit, just find it,” the man said.
Grey; that was his name. Richard Grey. He was Micheal Rashanagok’s friend. Not so much a friend really. More like… a nemesis. Of course, one doesn’t walk up to one’s estranged wife and introduce the man whom has sworn to kill you unless you can come up with the money that you owe him.
Things had been hard on Micheal. When he and Andrea were together, he lost himself sometimes in the games; drank too much, stayed out too late. He wasn’t a perfect person, and he hated himself for his failures, but all hating himself did was make him want to escape who he was, which led to him drinking more and staying out later. He always apologized, but he always knew it was never enough.
When she left, he was destroyed.
That he had a family had been his core; now, he had abandoned, and lost, his only responsibility. Now his failure was complete.
So Micheal drank more. Stayed out later. Risked more money.
He still did the best he could to look after his son. Andrew was all he had left; but, he was moody. Sometimes pushed the boy away, unable to help him… unable to help himself. Content to rest and be miserable. Alone. Knowing he would die alone.
He’d hoped that he could talk Andrea into taking him back, but when he saw her, he knew. She didn’t even have to speak a word; just turn a cold shoulder, shoot a steel glare his way, for him to know that reconciliation was impossible. Moreover, he knew from how she had hardened since last they had spoken that she wasn’t content anymore what they had. She was going to take his son.
Micheal wouldn’t fight. He loved Andrew more than anything else, but he knew, deep down, he knew that she was right. He knew he had lost control. Had lost everything.
That’s why he was here.
He knew she had money tucked away. She didn’t make anything here, but continued to send him money to look after Andrew. He knew that she must have a stockpile somewhere. All he had to do was find it.
He was stealing. It was wrong. He knew that… he knew that it was wrong, but, he had no choice. He had lost everything. He knew if he asked her, she would say no… would disagree with his plan, would say that he was crazy, that he was hopeless. But he just needed enough to pay off Borka… then a little more to get back to the tables. If he just made a few good hands, pushing in at the right time, he could make all his troubles disappear.
He realized the mistakes he’d made before. This time would be different. He would be in control. He just needed a place to start! That was all he asked. Just a turn in the right direction.
But she’d hidden everything well. Her computers were password protected and even once he got past that, so were her accounts. Hacking the account numbers wasn’t hard since they were kept in a secured database but the passwords… that would take time.
“She’s pretty cute,” Grey said, behind him. “Maybe if you offered her up, Borka might ‘forget’ some of the money you owe him. Of course, he’d probably need to be sure she was worth it…”
His grin was one of the most disgusting things that Micheal had seen.
“I’d suggest you never talk like that to her,” he said, and then turned back to work.
The light reflected softly off the water. It was a warm day, but not a hot day; the ultraviolet radiation of the sun temporarily abated by the cooling effect provided by the movement of a gentle gust of wind. The trees stood firm but their leaves did not, and the forest was alive with the sound of a summer day. And then there was the water.
He was captivated by it… had never seen anything like it. It seemed to stretch forever; he could see trees in the distance that looked as tall as his foot. The water seemed almost like a moving picture of the skyline behind; the trees, the rocks, the houses and the sun, all danced a soft and subtle dance across the surface of the water, but beyond… beyond was a mystery. The water was clearer than any he had seen before, but the depth to which it went down…
As far as he knew, it never ended.
He reached out and touched it. The water bent around his finger in rippling waves; the displaced volume unable to simply disappear, and instead dispersing itself over a wider area, a little at a time. If he did not move his finger, the waves would stop. At first, turn inward, for all that was displaced would try to regain its former place, but then they would stop completely, and all would be calm again.
Calm was a feeling he had never known.
It, like the calming warmth of the afternoon sun, felt very, very good.
Even if he would never know what this was like again, he had it now, and he was going to enjoy it as long as he could.
Casting a glance to the house to make sure no one was watching, Andrew took two steps and dove into the lake.
The forest helped to calm her nerves. Running was stressful, but she endured because she knew that it had a practical benefit. But running left her with nothing but time to digest her thoughts, whereas something that forced her to apply herself would occupy her mentally, running only occupied her physical body. She moved hips and thighs and arms, but not neurons or cerebral pathways. Not to run, at least.
Today, she thought of her son. Andrew Micheal Rashanagok. He was named for his father but definitely embodied the spirit and intelligence of his mother. He was her son. She saw herself in him every time she looked at him; he was brave, and smart. Even now, considered things that seemed beyond his years.
He had to.
It was living with his father that was holding him back. That’s why she had gone to Leia earlier in the day to ask her if Andrew could remain here; join her schools, learn her ways.
The Jedi Order was not as it once was. The Great Purge, instigated by Darth Sideous to crush resistance The Jedi might have offered his Empire, had reduced the number of force attuned and practiced individuals from the hundreds of thousands to the mere hundreds. Hiding one’s attunement to the force was critical because Imperial Observers were everywhere, and more than once, a person showing off his magic had become an unperson overnight.
When the Galactic Empire was deposed and the New Republic took Coruscant, things changed. The Jedi opened a new temple, away from the political capital of the galaxy, on the world of Naboo, a world that had formerly been home to a group known as The Naboo Sith Order. The battles of the Temples of Theed had been legendary, but in the end, the Jedi had won the day.
Now, The Order needed to focus on rebuilding their ranks. But the methods of old could not be adhered to. The Jedi Order needed to train adults who were capable of learning, growing, adapting, and then training other adults. Part of this was because The Order needed a new influx of warriors because the lure of The Dark Side seemed so much more appealing and they seemed to outnumber the Jedi considerably.
But another reason is simply because adults learnt faster. When one trained an adult an adult would learn and then be capable of passing on what he had learned. But children? If The Jedi Order had to spend all of their time training the ten and twelve year olds of the galaxy, they would need to withdraw from galactic politics and peacekeeping in order to devote their time as full time babysitters.
Thus, the Jedi policy had changed. No longer were the force sensitive youth identified and then brought into The Order. Now, those who felt that they wanted to commit themselves to the ways of the Jedi applied, and those who were deemed to be acceptable adult candidates were accepted.
There was a danger in such a way; the Sith did not have age limits, and the corrupting nature of the lust for power was such that they made easy, plentiful recruits of force sensitive youth struggling with their daily lives. Their numbers grew and their soldiers, many of them extremely young, outnumbered the Jedi considerably. Age was not a concern to the hierarchy of the Sith: none were too young to die.
So, it was with a measure of trepidation that Andrea Rashanagok had approached Leia Organa Solo. While Leia did not say yes, she did not say no either; saying that it was worth consideration. If Andrew could learn from his mother and at a pace similar to his mother, than he could be a valuable student. But he would need to meet with Organa before any decision could be finalized. Andrea had nodded and agreed that the following morning, she would bring Andrew to the temple.
As she ran, she felt something creeping into the back of her mind. It was… it was almost like tendrils of ink, as if she were swimming, and in the distance, an octopus had set upon her with a dark discharge. It was distracting and disconcerting. She stopped running and turned until the darkness was strongest. Then, she began running again.
Ahead, she saw him; dark black cloak billowing behind as he walked through the forest. The gauntlet, a metal and transparisteel device, was unmistakably not Jedi technology, and given the darkness she felt, there was only one conclusion.
He was a Sith.
A Sith had violated Naboo. Suddenly, the aliases and precautions seemed relevant. Suddenly, she felt fear.
She tried to cast it aside and be calm, but knew that her efforts were in vain. When she caught up to him…
He seemed to sense her then, because he stopped and turned. She stopped running and started walking, keeping a measure of distance between them.
He was tall, and pale. A human, though of which planet was hard to tell. His eyes were without color, but his forehead was marked with the tattoo she had seen of Sith Warriors; the combative evolution of a Sith, standing in contrast to the more sorcerer-like Acolytes. That meant that he was a capable fighter, which meant trouble.
“Lovely day for a walk in the woods,” Andrea said, folding her hands behind her back.
The man nodded. “I am looking for a Jedi. Have you seen any?” the man asked her.
She fought back a gulp. Very direct of him. “I can take you to the temple; there are many Jedi there.”
“I am not looking for many, I am looking for one,” he said. “My mission here is to study the tactical readiness of students of The Jedi Order. If I find one, I am to duel them. If I return, than your tactical readiness is insufficient. If I do not, than no more Sith will come.”
She considered what he was saying. If she believed what he claimed at face value, he was the vanguard for a Sith invasion. But… if he were to die… she had to think fast. Logic told her not to engage him… to run for the temple, to bring others, to warn others, but something in the back of her mind told her to stop, right now, and fight.
It was Andrew.
If she didn’t stop this Sith now, what if he stumbled on her son? What if he stumbled on a trainee less advanced than her? She had been here for over a year now… she was confident that she knew enough… confident in taking the risk. It was a risk worth taking… the chance to show the Sith that their terrorism would be met with resistance, to the death if need be. She would duel this Sith, and she would win.
When she pulled her hands back in front of her, the Sith grinned. His eyes fell on her lightsaber and he nodded as he reached for his own.
“Faster,” the man said.
Micheal Rashanagok tried to walk faster, but walking through the wet swamps of Naboo was not easy. Richard Grey walked behind; no longer under the pretense of being friends, and no longer hiding his blaster rifle beneath his cloak.
Micheal had not found the money.
He had only one request of Grey; that he shoot him in the woods. He did not want his son coming in from his swim to find his father’s body. Have his wife hold the boy and explain to him the nature of life and death. He had made his mistakes. He did not want anyone else to pay for them.
So they walked.
“I want you to tell Borka that I’m sorry,” he said, as he tried to keep walking. “Tell him I never meant to…”
“Save it,” Grey said. “Look, we’ve walked far enough. We’re miles from that stupid house, so just… do what you have to do. Make peace.”
Micheal stopped, and turned. Didn’t want to get shot in the back. He reached a hand up and crossed his heart with it. “I love you, Andrew.”
In his head, he heard the reply.
Looked, and saw Andrew, hidden away in the bushes. Watching it all.
He was unable to tell Grey not to fire. As he fell, he saw the tears of his son fall as well.
Grey raised the barrel of his weapon to his lips and softly blew away the smoke. He took three steps towards the body and stood over it, appraising his handiwork.
Then he fell to his knees.
He reached back behind him, to pull the darts out of his neck. “…p…poison?”
“Borka The Hutt has been warned to stay within Hutt Space,” came a heavily filtered voice from the woods. “His transgressions into The Rim have not gone unnoticed; Jabba The Hutt is hopeful that your removal will be an adequate message.”
“You fucker!” Grey said, but those became his last words; the man stepping from the brush turned his arm to him and a gauntlet attachment shot out a jet of flame which consumed the thug, rendering him molt within only seconds.
The armored warrior stepped past the burnt corpse, stepping instead to the one with the blaster wounds. Curious; he’d walked into some kind of execution. Hadn’t been planning to catch Grey here, but spotted the homing beacon on his ship as he made a run back to Tattooine and felt it was a good chance to settle the old marker on his head. But this man…
Something not right about this scene. Not right at all.
“Who was he, to you?” the man asked, his voice coming out a mechanical droll through the vocoder and breathing filter of his mask.
The child stepped from the bushes. He was… maybe twelve, but looked younger. Looked thin and underfed, and scared. “He was my father,” he said, sounding braver than he appeared.
The helmet nodded in respect. “As someone who once stood where you do, I do not envy you at this moment,” he said. It was the closest he could to offering condolences.
“Does… the rage… the anger I feel now…” the boy said, shaking. “Does this pain ever go away, or… will I always feel like this?”
The man in the mask hesitated only a few seconds. “Always like this.”
The boy nodded. He stepped past the burnt corpse, and in a way, the helmeted warrior felt truly sorry for him; he did not even have revenge to aspire to. His loss had been complete.
“Take solace in this; life, in all its cruelness and harshness, is nothing if not fair,” the man said as he stood, looking down at the boy. “Those who would punish others are always punished in turn; such is the way of things. In the end, you get what you deserve, and not a bullet less.”
The boy nodded softly. The helmeted warrior walked away, and he fell, clutching at the dead body that had been his father.
The bounty hunter wondered to himself what monster this day had created.
Leia Organa Solo did not sleep well.
Sometimes she did, but often she did not. She had dreams of her mother, whom she had known only briefly. And dreams of her father, whom she had known to be a monster. She had dreams of her past and her future and the horrors that would be in, and had been in both. Sometimes, nightmares kept her awake, and caused her to toss and turn.
But oftentimes, she was awoken by another. She had learned, as a diplomat and a politician, that bad news invariably arrived in the middle of the night.
Her and Amalia shared a hug; it was the only thing that seemed natural. There were no words to describe the realizations of what they had been brought to.
Andrea Rashanagok had fought a Sith and she had lost. And for that, she had paid the ultimate price.
Her body lay, peaceful and calm. Amalia would say later as the two drank that she had always been running, Andrea… running for something, from something. Today, she had stopped running. Maybe if she hadn’t…
As the two stood there, though, there were no such considerations. Only the two immediate truths of the situation.
The Sith were aware of their presence on Naboo, and had sent a message today that they wanted The Jedi to know they were watching.
And someone needed to tell Andrew.
With a deep sigh, Leia began to construct the speech in her head, to explain to a small boy how, and more importantly, why his mother was now dead.
She had a feeling that she would not sleep tonight.
When we die, we die alone. – Unknown
