My Turn: "Tag. Jaryk. You're it."
Ryn bowed her head for a few moments and took a few deep breaths. When she raised her head her lekku waved a bit wearily. “Let’s see this message,” she said. “I do not think any others will notice. This booth is dark and I have used The Force to make it seem more so to those nearby.”
He seemed a bit hesitant, but activated the message. Once again the human figure appeared and looked around to see if he was being observed. However, this time, the playback was halting and a bit slurred. Static seemed to course across the image.
“It was crystal clear on Coruscant,” he said, “must be low on power.”
“Sure, but why?” Makirto said suspiciously. “Those things can usually run for several cycles without a charge and that one looks in good shape.” He held out a hand. “Mind if I have a look-see?”
He handed it over and Makirto began to examine it. He turned it over and over in his hands and played with a few of the controls. He seemed to be almost offhandedly toying with it, but the look of concentration on his face was unmistakable. After a few moments he stopped fiddling with it, turned it over, and used one of the utensils at the table to pry open the back of the projector. A tracer was fixed to the inside of the back and wired into the power cell.
“Well that definitely explains it,” Makirto said as he severed the wires rendering the tracer inert. “Who did you say gave this to you?”
“I got it from Dexter Jester, a friend to many Jedi in the old city on Coruscant. He couldn’t have known about the tracer.” He replied in a tone that said the issue was closed.
“No. Dex must not have known about it,” Ryn agreed. “He’d not betray the Jedi. I too know him well.”
They all sat in silence for a time; each lost in their own fears and dashed hopes. That tracer meant the offered meeting was a trap. Either those they were to meet had already been captured, were about to be, or there weren’t any others to begin with. If they kept the rendezvous it would most likely only make Vader’s job that much easier.
“There might just be a safe place for us after all...at least for awhile.” Ryn said thoughtfully just as the continuing silence became uncomfortable.
“With Troopers, Bounty Hunters, this “Hand” person, Vader, and their minions all scouring space for us?” Makirto scoffed.
“Safe, yes and perhaps a bit more…” She trailed off obviously trying to remember something.
“Did I forget to mention that the general populace now thinks all Jedi are traitors as well”? Makirto continued, absentmindedly snapping the casing closed on the holoprojector.
The waitress, actually Ryn’s padawan, gave Makirto a sidelong look. “You should show more respect to Mas…Ryn.” She spat. “She’s far more experienced and knowledgeable than any Temple washout,” She challenged. “I can sense your presence in The Force, but it isn’t as focused as Ryn’s or his.” Makirto didn’t respond, but sat brooding quietly over the truthful rebuke.
Choosing not to mention Makirto’s keeping the holoprojector he inquired in a friendly tone, “How long since you left the Order?” He’d memorized the coordinates anyway.
“Long enough.” Makirto shot back. “They sent me to the Agro-Corps! No Zabrak has ever gone to the Agro-Corps! So I made a few mistakes, bruised a few Masters’ pride by winning in Velocities and out sparring their prized padawans. I would have made a great Knight if they had just let me be!” He concluded, keeping his voice low but smoldering.
“I see,” he offered in a much softer, compassionate, tone. “You were past the age of choosing and had not been taken as a Padawan Learner. From what you say it is surprising since you seem to have had the skill and ability.”
“Have, my friend, have.” Makirto replied somewhat mollified. “I have never stopped my training. I just stopped farming and digging in the dirt. I faked a fiery accident on a trip to town, fertilizer can be so touchy you know, and just walked away. They thought I was dead.” Turning to Ryn he added, “She’s right. I meant no disrespect. You’re not responsible for what happened. This tracer has me spooked that’s all.” He conceded.
An uneasy silence followed these revelations until finally Ryn spoke again. This time there was certainty in her voice as she raised her head. Her lekku swayed slightly to emphasize her confidence. “We need to get off this dust ball of a planet and make for Dantooine. Long ago there was a small Jedi Temple there. The Order always dealt fairly and openly with the natives and I believe they will be receptive to our cause.” They eyed each other for a few moments until Ryn said, “Unless there is a better option forthcoming I suggest we leave immediately for Dantooine.”
“I
did leave word for my ship to be refueled and ready to go off planet as soon as possible.” Makirto assured the others.
“Never did like the thought of spending much time here anyway.”
“We should go out as we came in,” he suggested. “We don’t seem to have attracted much attention yet. Leaving as a group might do just that.” They agreed to leave as they had come in. Makirto would go out first and prep the ship. Then he would leave alone and Ryn and her padawan would follow together. There was an alleyway a few streets down where they would meet and head for the ship. No one paid any undue attention as they left the cantina.
“Either I’m getting paranoid or someone’s watching us,” Ryn’s padawan whispered as they met in the alleyway a short while later.
“I can’t say the same, but I
do feel a stirring in The Force. Indistinct, but there,” he added.
“We are being looked for, but haven’t been found
yet…,” was Ryn’s reply. Suddenly her eyes widened and she said, “We must make haste.”
As the group headed down the side street that led to the hangar bay where Makirto’s ship was berthed they could all sense danger in The Force. Warily they entered the bay, sabers at the ready and senses open to The Force. They secured the door behind them to slow anyone coming or going that way and fanned out toward the ship. It took only a few moments to locate Makirto lying near the ramp to the ship. He was unconscious and his right hand was missing. They all knew only one thing could leave that type of wound. It was now all too clear that they needed to get off world.
Makirto came to and started when he saw them standing over him, “The Hand”, he said weakly. At first they supposed he was referring to his wound, but he gathered his strength and continued. “ The Emperor’s Hand was here, curved saber and all. He’s looking for you, for all of us. He’s got the holoprojector.”
“Then why didn’t he kill you?” asked Ryn’s padawan.
“I don’t know.” Makirto answered. “He was going to, I could feel him massing power for the kill, then he changed his mind. I asked him why but wasn’t conscious enough to remember what he said. Anyway, he’s gone now.”
“We must leave!” Ryn said. “Now.”
“We can’t”, Makirto admitted, “they didn’t refuel the ship as they promised.”
“Then we leave Mos-Eisley Now!”, Ryn responded. Across the Dune Sea lies Mos-Espa. We can refuel there for the trip to Dantooine. Help him up!” The other two helped Makirto up and were surprised to see he could stand on his own.
“Quick healer”, he said somewhat sheepishly as he retrieved his lightsaber. “Ryn’s right. We can make it to Mos-Espa and refuel there.”
As Ryn and her padawan started up the ramp, Makirto felt a hand on his shoulder. “There’s more to the story Makirto”, he said, “but I’ll let you decide when to tell it.” He turned his grip into a reassuring pat on the back and followed the Zabrak up the ramp into the ship…
A heavily cloaked and hooded figure standing in the doorway of a nearby shop, had watched the group openly as they passed. It stood there a few moments then headed toward the hangar bay at a measured pace. The billowing cloak and deep hood made it all but impossible to identify the race of the wearer. Under the withering glare of the afternoon suns onlookers merely shrugged or shuddered as the figure passed by. Upon reaching the door a red light and faded sign showed it had been secured. Pausing briefly to glance side to side the figure extended an appendage toward the keypad as if to operate it but did not actually touch it. Nevertheless only a moment later there came a hiss as the lock disengaged and the door slide open. In the dimness of the entryway hands wrapped in a gauzelike cloth lowered the hood to reveal the face of a human male of indeterminate age.
Stepping to the side he eased his way down the entry corridor wall to the edge of the opening and watched as the group boarded a Corellian freighter. One of the boarding figures, a smallish human female, turned slightly and seemed to glance his way as she went up the ramp but then shrugged and entered the ship. He continued to stand there, watching from the shadows. A few minutes later one of the group, a human, came back out and watched while the freighter took off. One hand absentmindedly stroking his full beard he stood a few moments more watching from the shadows then, seeming to come to himself, he raised his hood and turned back to the doorway. Whoever they were, they had their task to fulfill, and he had his. The late afternoon suns blazed hot as he stepped back out into the windblown sandbox that was now his home and melted into the passing crowds...