Star Wars: Crucible 3-4

Chapter Three



A cool gust of wind, the sound of running water, and Vaade stirred in his sleep. As he slowly woke he found himself lying on his back with his head propped up on something soft, and all was dark. Dimly he recalled the events that had brought him here – wherever here was – and a sudden panic-attack caused him to sit up. The effort immediately elicited a groan from his lips as the rest of his body protested, and he slumped back down on the dirt-covered floor.

Where am I? What happened? It’s so dark. Why is it so dark? He fretted. He recalled brief flashes of memory –searing winds, and burning dust, long treks across the wasteland under the sun, and pain. Lots of pain. Where am I? How did I get here?

And then he remembered. Or thought he did. Much of what he had just endured felt like an awful dream, and when he turned his head to look around and saw only darkness he wondered if he were truly awake. His hands went to his face and encountered bandages expertly tied around his head, from his brain-tails to his nose. He could feel similar bandages around his hands and arms.

“I would not suggest removing those just yet, boy. Bacta-bandages are expensive,” said a voice. It sounded familiar. Had he heard it before? In his dream perhaps? “Rest. You are safe here. You have been unconscious for more than twelve Standard hours.”

Vaade sniffed the air. Whoever was in the cave with him was not Twi’lek, but he could not identify their species without seeing them. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked in the direction of the voice. “Wh—what happened?” he stammered. “Who are you?”

The figure moved closer from across the cavern and crouched down beside the wounded boy who made a feeble attempt at shrinking away. “One question at a time.” He leaned in and Crijo felt hands examining the bandages around his head. “Good. Your wounds are already healing. I would not expect them to heal fully, but are healing. I have done all I can – the bacta will have to do the rest.” He sat back on his haunches, and Crijo shrank back against the cave wall further, fearful and apprehensive.

“Wh—who are you?” He asked again, tentatively. It did occur to him that if the figure intended him harm, he would have already done so, but nonetheless he could not banish his fear. What if the stranger had darker plans for him? No... that couldn’t be it. It wasn’t as if he could do much about it, anyway.

“My name is Kan,” the figure replied simply. In the darkness, Crijo heard a rustle as the other sat down near him. “Here. Drink.” The stranger calling himself Kan pressed a container of something into Crijo’s hands. Hesitantly, the boy raised the container to his lips and tipped it up. Water ran from it into his mouth and down his front, and he drank greedily.

“What happened?” Crijo asked again, lowering the canteen when it was finally drained. His head still throbbed but he noticed the agony he felt earlier had lessened significantly. “How did you find me?”

A low chuckle emanated from the unseen figure and the canteen was gently pulled from Crijo’s hands. “What happened?” he echoed. “You found me, young one.”

Now that didn’t make sense. The Twi’lek boy gripped one hand in the other and then pinched at one of his bandages. It hurt. This is real, he told himself. It has to be. “I don’t understand,” he said to the one calling himself Kan. “I... don’t know how long I’ve been out here. You see my shuttle crashed – and then there was a terrible heatstorm. I—I found a cave and then...Afterward, I just set out... Were you looking for me? How did you know I would be here?” A distinctive warm breeze wafted down past him and he reacted fearfully, pressing his body back against the cave wall until his head hurt even more. He knew it meant they could not be far from the cave’s entrance but the touch of the elements still terrified him.

“Terror will not help you here,” Kan said to him, and he stopped moving. Where had he heard that before? It felt so familiar and yet elusive as if he were recalling a dream – or nightmare. “As for how I knew you would be here,” Kan continued, “I have known for many years I would find you here, in this cave. The real test came in knowing when. The where was simple.”

That made even less sense to the boy, and then he remembered where he had heard those words before. The voice in the wasteland! He sat bolt upright, knees drawn up near his chest and arms wrapped around them. “It was you!?” he exclaimed dubiously. “I—I remember! I heard your voice...You led me here? How?”

Kan laughed. The sound was again, not cruel, yet it gave Crijo no comfort. “You still do not know, do you? Very well. Heed my words, boy. The Force led you here to me. I sensed your presence as soon as you crashed. I sensed your fear after you hid from the storm and I called out to you.” He edged closer to Crijo’s bandaged face, causing the boy to turn his head away slightly. “But it was you who found me, boy. You felt the Force and it guided you to me as surely as it guided me to this cave where I have waited for two Standard days.”

Crijo sat in stunned silence for several minutes, trying to process what this stranger was telling him. He had surely heard of the Force and the Jedi – Ryloth even used to have one of its own Watchmen to seek out Force-sensitive children for training – but he would never have expected to be one of them. He shook his head, which continued to throb painfully.

“This has to be a mistake,” he wondered aloud. “A...coincidence. Kala’uun Control didn’t send you out here to find me? It can’t have been the Force, it can’t.”

“There are no coincidences,” came the figure’s curt reply. “Consider, child: is it coincidence that you, a young Twi’lek boy—” Crijo didn’t like how he emphasised that. “—Successfully crashed your shuttle within mere walking distance of shelter? It is coincidence that you sensed the storm’s approach early enough to reach that shelter and survive its wrath? Is it also coincidence that you braved the wastelands by yourself, blind and hurt, and found your way to me without breaking your neck, or running afoul of vicious beasts?” He stopped and rubbed his chin between his forefinger and thumb, looking away from the unseeing youth to the cave’s entrance. “Perhaps when I have taught you to see properly I will bring you back here and show you the terrain you have crossed—by mere coincidence.”

He looked back at the boy once more, kneeling down in front of him. “Believe me, child. You and I are meant to meet.”

Vaade bowed his head forward again, resting it lightly upon his knees. It was too much for him to take in and he felt the urge to sob rising up from his belly. His chest heaved and his sides shook as he struggled to contain his emotions, and myriad thoughts flew around in his mind, mingling with the painful memories of his ordeal. His lekku hung down either side of his head, limply. Kan put a hand on his shoulder.

“Now is not the time for tears, but for courage. Very soon we will leave this cave together and return to your family.”

Crijo’s head came up quickly and his lips formed a sudden, tremulous smile. Thoughts of home filled his mind and he hugged his knees, rocking back and forth, envisioning his house and running into his father’s arms. Heaving a loud sigh, he nodded several times over and spoke to the stranger who had rescued him. “Thank you. For... helping me, I—thank you.”

Kan nodded, but knowing the boy could not see him he replied, “You’re welcome.” Then placing a hand on Crijo’s knee he asked, “Can you stand?”

Taking the hand, the boy noticed the rough texture of skin and the curved talons on the ends of each finger but he still could not guess Kan’s species. He chose to ignore it for now and started to rise. “I think so. Yes.” With Kan’s help he climbed unsteadily to his feet and then leaned against the rocky wall of the cavern.

Kan regarded him quietly for a moment and then spoke. “Tell me your name, child,” he murmured.

“Crijo,” responded the boy. “Crijo Vaade.” He paused briefly and cocked his head to the side. “Are you... a Jedi?” It surprised him that this had not occurred to him sooner.

“I am,” said Kan, picking up a container of supplies and medical equipment. He put his free hand on Crijo’s shoulder again, pushing lightly to indicate he should start walking. “My name is Master Oden Kan, and you, Crijo Vaade, shall be my apprentice.”



Apprentice? thought Vaade, as they started toward the cave-mouth. Apprentice? Me? He didn’t know what excited him more – the thought of being home again soon and reunited with his father, or the idea that all of that had been orchestrated by the Force and he was going to be a Jedi. His foot caught on a rock and he lurched forward, cursing loudly, but Master Oden’s hand upon his shoulder kept him upright. He could feel the Jedi Master’s disapproval, but he couldn’t work out if it was for stumbling over, or swearing. Probably both, he decided.

The cave-mouth opened before them, an impressive half-dome of rock with jagged formations all around it that resembled cruel fangs. To an onlooker it would have appeared as though two beings were walking out of the mouth of a great carnivorous beast. But it was not the shape of the opening that caused young Crijo to cower back behind Oden Kan. Hot wind assailed him as they stepped outside and he panicked immediately, hiding his face in his shoulder and backing away under shelter again. He stopped only when Oden Kan took hold of his shoulder and squeezed it tightly, causing him to yelp in pain.

"This is a fear you will have to face," said the Jedi Master to him, not letting go.

Crijo stammered. "I—I don't think I can. Please—I keep seeing the—storm, in my head. I can't go out there, I can't."

Kan frowned. "Your only other choice is to remain here - where you will die," he replied sternly. "Choose, boy. I will not have a coward for a Padawan. I am leaving--are you?"

It took Crijo only a moment to decide. The thought of being left behind was more than he could bear and he gave a short nod of his head. "I am leaving too," he said in a small voice, wishing he could sound more confident.

Master Oden began walking again, guiding the boy ahead of him with his hand on his shoulder. "Come," he said in a slightly gentler voice. "I will not let you fall, and my transport is not far."

The pair of them set off, leaving the cavern behind and crossing the rugged terrain. Oden pulled his hood up over his head and lifted his face to survey the area around them. Sharp rocks rose up to varying heights on either side like a giant's collection of vicious cutting implements, and in between the dagger-like peaks the ground dropped away into steep ravines and crevices that descended to depths unknown. A narrow stretch of reasonably flat rock wormed its way between the valley of knives and upon this 'path' trekked the Twi'lek boy and the mysterious Jedi Master.

"Unfriendly planet," Oden muttered under his breath. The boy turned his head in Kan's direction, but thought better of disagreeing with him. It was true. He considered asking the older figure where he was from, but the Jedi didn't seem interested in engaging in conversation for the time being. Thus they continued on in relative silence.



They had walked for what seemed like hours at the same steady pace, when Master Oden abruptly surged forward into a run, pulling Crijo along with him. Something was wrong. Crijo found himself half-running, half-stumbling behind the taller figure, panting heavily as he tried to keep up. His feet felt like lead, dragging in the dirt, and his head ached so much it was difficult not to double over in pain. The sun beat down mercilessly and Crijo would have collapsed and curled into a ball if only Master Oden would have let him.

"Quickly, move!" Kan hissed in his ear, as if sensing the boy’s thoughts. Vaade tried to voice a protest but the pain behind his eyes made it too difficult to talk while running. Then the sound of falling rocks behind them caught his attention, and it was followed by a sinister clacking and chittering noise that all Twi'leks knew well and feared much.

Lyleks!

Without warning Crijo found himself thrust to the ground, and he instinctively curled up into a ball and rolled into the side of a large boulder. There he stayed, not daring to make any sound or movement. The chittering and clacking drew nearer almost immediately and was joined by a new sound - a distinctive snap-hiss followed by a steady hum. Crijo didn't need his eyes to know that the Jedi Master had ignited his lightsaber and moved to engage the deadly predators bearing down on them.

The first of them appeared on top of a high ledge, several feet away from the Jedi Master. The lylek was covered in a thick chittinous exoskeleton that was ideal for surviving in the Brightlands and it gripped the harsh terrain with its six legs thrust like spears into the earth. Two tentacles, each one more than two metres long, extended out from its upper thorax and writhed menacingly at Oden Kan. Its tail, barbed and poisoned, hung poised over its head like a serpent waiting to strike.

Of all predators on this planet, this was the most fearsome.

Holding his lightsaber horizontally in a reversed, dagger-like grip, Oden Kan dropped into a battle-stance and beckoned the creature forward with his free hand. The lylek jumped, its front legs poised to skewer the Jedi through the chest, and its tentacles slashing from either side like whips. Kan’s saber moved with speed to rival the creature’s, slashing twice diagonally even as he leaped out of the way.

Two tentacles dropped writhing to the dusty ground.

The Jedi wasted no time. As the creature struck again, he spun to avoid the barbed tail and moved in close between its legs. The amber-glowing lightsaber whirled in his hand and then pierced the lylek’s head in a backward thrust, killing it instantly.

Crijo cowered blindly where Kan had put him, his body still curled in a foetal position, his hands over his mouth to keep him from crying out. How he wished he could make himself invisible. He could not see anything about him and had only his hearing to give him any indication of what was going on. He caught the sound of the lylek’s body dropping into the dust just as Oden killed it and was about to breathe a sigh of relief when his ears caught the predatory clicking of hungry mandibles just above him and he stiffened.

They always hunt in packs! Try as he might, he could not cry out, his throat was so dry.

Sensing the boy’s danger, Oden Kan looked up and spied the creature about to leap upon him. He raised his hand and a nearby boulder about twice the size of a humanoid’s head rose effortlessly from the ground. Oden gestured at the creature and the large rock hurled itself into its head, knocking it back off its high rocky perch and stunning it.

He ran to the Twi'lek youth, hand extended. “More are coming, quickly—” he started to say, but a commotion behind him caused him stop mid-sentence. He turned around. Three more lyleks appeared in a narrow gap between two rocky spires and were competing violently with each other to reach their intended prey. Master Oden took a second to watch them and then, setting his jaw grimly, he switched off his lightsaber and raised both hands above his head.

"What is it?" Crijo asked desperately as he heard the lightsaber extinguish, but Oden ignored him. The Jedi closed his eyes, and a loud grinding sound echoed throughout the immediate area, causing a number of small stones to hail down up them. The insectoids pushed further through the gap, and one of them gathered itself to leap, but Kan ignored them all. He made a pulling gesture with both his hands, and a thundering crack split the air as each spire broke in half several feet above the attacking creatures. Then, as he opened his fingers, the immense rocks came tumbling down upon them, sending a thick cloud of dust billowing up around the area. Without waiting for the dust to settle, Oden grabbed Crijo's arm, dragged him roughly to his feet, and then began running further along the path.

"What did you do?" Vaade panted, trying not to cough or choke with all the dust. "Are they--are they dead?"

"If they were, do you think we would be running?" retorted the Jedi Master brusquely. He kept going, forcing the boy to run as well. At a glance he could already see movement underneath the boulders, as the creatures pulled themselves out of the rubble. "Resilient things," he growled.

They rounded a corner and there before them lay a small Voyager-class shuttle, camouflaged underneath a large overhanging cliff-face. Oden remotely signalled the ramp to drop even as they approached, and then urged the boy up into the T-shaped transport. The Jedi sat the boy down in the co-pilot chair while he engaged the repulsorlifts without even waiting for a pre-flight check. Beneath them, two lyleks converged on the ground where the shuttle had just been, and then were joined by two more. Finding no prey within reach they began to attack each other.

“We are safe.” Kan let out a breath as the ship lifted them up and away, and then gave Crijo a speculative look. "Now..."

Crijo shook his head a little, confused. "Now…what?"

"Now - you are going to guide us to your home," replied the Jedi matter-of-factly. He angled the shuttle away from the planet's unforgiving surface and added power to the engines.

The boy coughed, confused and speechless for the moment. "I--what?—” he spluttered. “Guide the--? You want me to?--How??!" His hands went to the bacta-bandages around his eyes in disbelief. Those rocks didn't fall on his head, did they? He heard the figure ‘hmph’ in dry amusement.

"You just crashed your own shuttle into a mountain, boy," Oden commented drily. "What makes you think I would let you fly mine?" He steered toward the planet's twilight-terminator, increasing power to the engines, and then tapped the navigation console meaningfully.

"Just tell me the coordinates."







Chapter Four



The Voyager-class shuttle gracefully circled the mountain that marked the entrance to the Vaade’uun settlement. Here along the twilight terminator of the planet the temperature was far more bearable - only the very worst of heat storms made their way here. Crijo Vaade would have felt relaxed but for the excitement bubbling up inside him at the thought of going home. He rocked backward and forward eagerly in the co-pilot chair and smiled broadly as Oden Kan activated the ship’s comlink.

“Vaade’uun Control, this is the shuttle Vagabond. Open the blastdoors and allow me to land.”

“Shuttle Vagabond, this is Control,” came the curt response in thickly-accented Basic. “Who gives authority?” Whoever it was, they sounded more than at little offended.

That sounds like Aldo, Crijo thought to himself.

“The Jedi Council,” said Kan and slowed the shuttle’s speed as he brought it in line with the entrance. There was a moment of inactivity and then the doors slowly ground open, allowing the Vagabond between them. “Also,” Oden added. “Send word to Kalos Vaade to meet me in the docking bay.”

“Why?” said the controller archly. “What are you wanting with Kal’osvaade?”

Both Oden Kan and Crijo Vaade smirked simultaneously.

“I have someone here he will want to see.”



Kalos Vaade was there to meet them in the hangar-bay – a large domed cavern with lights illuminating it from above and below, and several landing-pads on which lay a few shuttles in various states of use or repair. Beside him stood a taller, burly Twi'lek who shared the same creamy complexion. The pair of them were talking heatedly in Ryl - the Twi'lek language - as the shuttle touched down. Oden descended the ramp with Crijo following directly behind him, mostly hidden from view by the Jedi's billowing cloak.

"Stay behind me," instructed the Jedi.

The taller Twi'lek held up his hands to Kalos, causing him to stay further back and then sternly approached the Jedi Master himself. "Welcome to my shuttle bay, Devaronian," he began, although his tone was more suspicious than welcoming.

Crijo started. Devaronian? He mentally exclaimed. He should have guessed that. Despite speculating all along as to what species the mysterious Jedi in front of him was, he hadn’t even come close. Now, he could imagine the devilish visage typical of the horned and fanged humanoid race and match it to Oden Kan’s voice and personality – and suddenly it made sense. Crijo licked his lips with a subtle smile and returned his attention to Aldo Vaade who was still speaking to Kan.

"Now you will tell me what you want," demanded the burly Twi’lek, with his hands planted on his hips and his eyes glaring with open defiance at the Jedi.

"Not you," Kan sniffed, and Aldo bristled indignantly. Kan ignored him and shifted his attention to Kalos. "Kal'osvaade," he began formally, "I am Jedi Master Oden Kan, and this I believe is your son."

Crijo stepped out from behind the Devaronian and Kalos gave a shout and rushed toward him. Shouldering his way past his gob-smacked brother he threw his arms around the boy, tears of relief glistening in his eyes. Aldo blinked in shock, and then simply stared as the pair embraced.

"You're alive! What happened to you?" Kalos exclaimed hoarsely. He grasped Crijo's shoulders tightly in his hands, tears running down his face as he looked over the bandages around the boy's face, and arms. Horror mingled with joy as the seriousness of his son's injuries dawned on him. "You're hurt! We heard the mayday but when we couldn't find the shuttle, we—”

“What happened to the shuttle?" interjected Aldo, stepping forward with concern written on his pasty features.

Kalos silenced him with a glare. "Aldo, he's hurt! Go fetch a medical droid. Meet us at my home. Go!" He embraced Crijo again as Aldo turned and jogged away. "I thought I'd lost you – you were gone for days! What happened?"

Crijo opened his mouth as if to reply but a sudden wave of fatigue overcame him and he swayed dizzily. Kalos nearly panicked as his son fell forward into his arms, but Oden stepped in and laid a hand upon the boy's brow.

"He is exhausted," he explained to the worry-stricken father. "He caught the edge of a heatstorm and suffered serious burns. I have some skill with Jedi Healing and have done all I can for him."

Kalos rose to his feet, bearing his son in his arms. "I know I can never repay you for what you have done for me and my son, Jedi. Thank you for finding him."

Kan barked a short laugh and shook his horned head. "Thank the Force." He looked at the youth in Kalos' arms. "He found me, not I him."

The Twi'lek father frowned in confusion. "I don't understand."

Oden indicated the boy with a hand. "Your son is strong in the Force, Kal'osvaade. He survived far more than a heatstorm, and found me in a cave where I waited. When he is trained he will make a powerful Jedi."

Kalos shook his head dubiously and then hefted Crijo in his arms. "I don't know what to make of this, Master Kan - but come, please." He nodded toward the settlement. "My home is not far and we can talk there. You shall be our honoured guest.”



“I can’t believe it,” marvelled Kalos aloud, after having heard Oden Kan’s tale. They sat opposite each other on rounded chairs in the living area of his home, along with Aldo who kept himself slightly apart from the other two. The walk between the shuttle-bay and the house had not been long and now Crijo lay in his bed in the next room, being attended by a medical droid. The droid had asked not to be disturbed while he treated the young Twi’lek for his injuries, which left the three older beings to talk amongst themselves, drinking caf.

“You should,” Oden replied evenly. He lowered his mug to his lap and watched Kalos with a profoundly serious expression. “The Force is a powerful ally.”

“I do not believe in your Force,” declared Aldo, draining the last of his caf and setting the mug down noisily. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and glared with open hostility at the Jedi.

“Your belief is irrelevant,” the Devaronian retorted, scarcely raising his voice. As Aldo looked away, Oden gave Kalos his full attention again. “Your son did safely land that shuttle in the best possible location. He did sense the onset of the storm and manage to avoid it – perhaps he even resisted it—” He leaned forward, lowering his voice but losing none of its intensity. “And he did walk blindly across the Bright Lands without running into danger...to find me.” He leaned back again, watching Kalos who looked at him with wide eyes. “Crijo has exceptional talent, but he requires training. I came to Ryloth following the will of the Force – it led me to that cave where I knew I would find a student in search of a master. And I did.”

It took a while for Oden’s words to sink in, and when they did Kalos put down his mug and stared. “You want to train him? My son? You want to train him to become a Jedi?”

Kan nodded his head, his typically devil-looking features a mask of seriousness. “That is why I came here.”

Aldo scoffed audibly but he was ignored by both his brother and the Jedi Master.

The pale Twi’lek blinked his eyes, shaking his head in bewilderment. “And how would you do this? He is gravely injured. He will not be fit for anything for a long time.”

Oden looked blandly across the room in the direction of Crijo’s door and raised his caf to his lips. “I think you will find the worst of his injuries have healed significantly, but you are right – he is not ready for any training yet. What would I do? When he is strong again, I would take him with me when I leave here and guide him in the ways of the Force.”

“Take him with you?!!” the Twi’lek burst out, half-rising from his chair. Both lekku spasmed abruptly as he bared his teeth at the Jedi. He did not know what to be angry at first – the notion of having his son taken from him, or the casual manner in which the Jedi Master assumed he would. Aldo put both feet firmly on the ground as if to spring from his chair at any moment, but a glance from Oden kept him in his seat. “Take him with you!” repeated Kalos, still fuming. “Only a few hours ago I was sure I had lost him just as I lost his mother – now I have him back and you speak of taking him away?”

“I cannot teach him here.” Kan even now remained cool-tempered. “A Jedi has much to learn and experience of the galaxy as well as the Force and he cannot do so by staying in one place.”

“No. I forbid it.” Kalos Vaade rose to his feet and stared adamantly back at Oden Kan. “I will not let you take my son.”

As though expecting a fight – or perhaps hoping for one – Aldo sprang to his feet just as Oden slowly stood to his. He had his own teeth bared and taloned hands curled into fists, but Kalos waved his brother back, glaring irritably as if to say, You’re not helping.

Oden Kan pulled his hood up over his horned head and bowed. “Then I have no further business here. I must go.” His tone carried no apology in it, only disappointment. As he turned to leave Aldo’s snarl turned into a triumphant sneer.

“Wait.” Glaring again at his brother, Kalos held out his hand to the departing figure and took a step toward him.

Oden paused.

Crijo’s father lowered his hand and sighed. “You cannot leave without saying goodbye to Crijo. He will want to see—” a lump rose in his throat but he continued on thickly, “He will want to speak with you.”

Oden Kan stepped back toward Kalos Vaade and pulled back his hood nodding. Aldo snorted derisively and started walking toward the door instead.

Ignoring his brother, Kalos continued, “I said you would be our honoured guest – and I keep my word. At least stay the night and we shall talk more in the morning.”

The Devaronian Jedi regarded the sincere Twi’lek for a while and then finally nodded.

“Very well.”



Early the following morning the medical droid allowed both Kalos and Oden to see Crijo who lay propped up against the head of his bed, dosing lightly. The bacta-dressings had all been changed, reducing the amount of bandages he had to wear but still much of his face, lekku and arms – and what they could see of his upper torso as well – were pink and blistered. The boy’s father struggled to keep his emotions in check as he knelt down beside his son, taking one of his hands and holding it tightly. Oden remained standing at the foot of the bed, watching in silence.

Kalos looked at the droid. The questions were written in his face but he did not trust himself to speak.

“Sir, his wounds are consistent with one who has come into contact with extreme temperatures, and superheated dust particles – possibly from catching the edge of a heat storm,” stated the droid in a metallic monotone voice. It turned to look at the boy’s father. “He has also suffered from exposure and dehydration – I have had to replenish his fluids intravenously during the night.” The droid paused. “Strangely, if what you have said is true, his injuries should have been much more severe. He should not be alive, sir.”

Oden Kan spoke up softly, “The Force is a powerful healer.”

The boy began to stir at the sound of voices around him and Kalos immediately bent closer to him. “Father?” Crijo asked in Basic and Kalos squeezed his hand.

“I am here,” he replied. “How do you feel?”

“Well...I’m awake and it’s still dark,” he said with a weak smile, and touched the dressings over his eyes again. He winced a little as his fingers came into contact with the puffy, burnt flesh around his cheeks. “But it doesn’t hurt as much.”

Kalos looked at the meddroid. “How is he doing?”

The droid moved nearer to Crijo’s side and held a small scanner over the boy’s form. “Thanks to the Jedi Master’s intervention, Cri’jovaade’s superficial burns will heal leaving minimal scarring. His tchun-tchin have been saved from sustaining permanent damage.” He pointed to Crijo’s lekku that were neatly bound and draped over his shoulders.

The older Twi’lek frowned deeply and a ripple of apprehension moved through his brain-tails. “That is not all, is it?” he asked carefully.

The meddroid shook its sauce-shaped head. “I am afraid not, sir. At some point, superheated dust entered his eyes and has done damage beyond my ability to heal. I have repaired the scarring around his eyelids, and tear-ducts – but he will have only ten to fifteen percent vision in both eyes – twenty optimistically, sir.”

Crijo heard the diagnosis and bowed his head into his father’s shoulder. Kalos fought back tears and wrapped his arms around his boy, saying nothing for several minutes.

Oden spoke up, addressing the medical droid. “What are his options?”

“He will require cybernetic implants, Master Jedi. Artificial eyes similar to ‘droid photoreceptors can be manufactured to suit him, and to be replaced as he grows older. They are expensive; however they will increase his quality of vision by perhaps fifty to sixty percent. As you know, Twi’leks use a combination of words and movements of their lekku to communicate in their native language. Without the ability to see, Crijo Vaade will not be able to communicate with his own species, except in Galactic Basic, sir.”

The Devaronian looked toward the boy and his father, both of whom now focused upon him and the droid with stricken expressions. “How does the procedure work?” he continued. “Of replacing the damaged eyes with implants?”

The meddroid began to explain, “First of all the defective organs must be removed—” but Kalos interjected loudly.

“That’s enough! My son does not need to hear this!” He looked down at the boy in his arms, who seemed petrified at the idea of having cybernetic eyes. His father spoke again, in a softer voice, “We cannot afford the credits for such implants anyway. He will have to do without.”

“Then I have done all I can for now, sir,” said the droid. “Shall I take my leave?”

Kalos Vaade nodded mutely and the droid disappeared through the door. Oden took several steps forward and crouched down on his haunches on the opposite side of the bed from the grief-stricken father.

“There is another way,” he said quietly.

Hope kindled in Crijo’s face and he pushed away a little from his father to better listen to Oden Kan’s voice. Kalos looked up and tears that stood in his eyes fell down his cheeks. He frowned in confusion for a few moments and then slowly began to understand what the Jedi Master meant. His jaw tightened.

‘It is the only way,” Kan added, keeping his eyes on the boy. “He can learn to See in the Force as many Jedi do all the time. Some species, such as the Miraluka use nothing but the Force to see. He can do it – Crijo has already proved that.”

The boy shuffled up higher in his bed, all but trembling with excitement and hope. He felt around for his father’s hand and when he found it, grasped it tightly in his. “Father, please. I don’t want to be blind. I don’t want them to replace my eyes with cybernetics either. I... I want to go with Master Oden. I want to be a Jedi.”

Kalos did not know what to say. He stared at his son speechless, his mouth opening and closing several times as myriad emotions assailed him all at once.

Oden Kan pressed a little more. “I can teach him how, and he will see far better than you can possibly imagine. He will find purpose and meaning – two things he will never have if he stays here, especially now that the galaxy is at war.” He rose to his feet. “It is a choice between life—” and then he gestured at the blind youth. “Or this. And it is yours to make.”

Kalos Vaade struggled with many things to say, but none of them came to his lips. He tightened his grip on Crijo’s hand as more tears flowed down his cheeks and then slowly leaned forward and kissed the boy on the top of his head. Crijo somehow knew what his father’s answer would be as soon as Kalos turned his head to look toward the Jedi Master. Exhaling in a deep sigh, he finally nodded.

Oden Kan smiled.



Several days passed before either the medical droid or Crijo’s father would let him leave with Master Oden. The bacta treatments brought by the Jedi had succeeded in reducing the burns to the boy’s body, and now he appeared in relative health – apart from the two milky orbs that were his near-sightless eyes. He still had some vision – the ability to discern between light and dark, and occasionally the vague impression of beings and objects nearby, but he knew even that would not last. The flesh around his eye-sockets still sported some scar-tissue, as did his brain-tails, but for the most part the burns had truly healed.

Kan had spent most of his time with the boy while he recovered, sitting by his bed at first and telling him of the Force, the Jedi and the role of both in the galaxy. Kalos often participated – partially to enjoy his son’s company, and partially to make sure Oden did not spirit his boy away in the night. Then later, after Crijo was allowed to walk around, Kan continued instructing him as they made their way through the settlement and even beyond to other caverns that had not yet been settled. They ventured outside only rarely as it caused the boy to panic, but Kan vowed such fear would soon become a thing of the past.

Almost a standard week after Crijo had been rescued by Kan, the medical droid declared the boy as healed as he was going to be. Kalos did not know whether to be glad of the news, or dismayed – and Oden truthfully expected him to go back on his word. Nevertheless, Kalos reaffirmed his earlier decision, and the three of them stood together in the shuttle-bay of Vaade’uun, preparing to say their final goodbyes. Oden’s vessel, the Vagabond, rested behind them with its ramp lowered as technicians loaded the last of the supplies. Oden took the opportunity to speak sombrely with both father and son.

“You are sure you want this?” he asked of Kalos Vaade, carefully watching him.

The Twi’lek nodded. “I am.” His face was pained, but his tone was confident. “I gave my word – and I will stand by it. Look after my boy, Od’enkan.” He changed the pronunciation of the Jedi’s name deliberately, according to Twi’lek tradition – a sign of belonging.

“I will,” asserted the Devaronian, but he went on: “I will also warn you: I am not an easy Master. It will be difficult for Crijo – he will have to prove himself worthy – but if he succeeds know that he will be a strong Jedi Knight. A true force for good in the galaxy.”

“He is a hard worker,” Kalos declared proudly.

Crijo could feel his father’s eyes upon him and beamed.

“Very well,” Oden agreed and walked to the ramp.

Kalos crouched down to give his son a tight hug. “I am already proud of you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. Crijo nodded mutely. He turned the youth around and set him walking toward the shuttle when Aldo suddenly approached from behind. A greasy hand was laid on Kalos’ shoulder, halting him.

“So he finally goes—hey! Why does he take the boy with him?” the burly Twi’lek removed his hand from Kalos and pointed angrily in Crijo’s direction. “He works for me, Jedi.”

“Not anymore,” the Jedi retorted laconically, and fixed Aldo with a steely gaze.

The pasty-skinned Twi’lek faltered and looked away. “Ah... let him be going.” He turned to his brother and some of his earlier sternness found its way back into his voice. “I must talk of my missing shuttle. I cannot afford to be losing a shuttle in this business.”

“It was a malfunction, Al’dovaade,” explained Kalos patiently. “It was no one’s fault – let it go.”

“Your son should have fixed it – it is his fault. Now who will pay?” he jabbed a finger again at Crijo and then at the boy’s father accusingly.

Kalos opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a word from Oden Kan. The Devaronian walked back down the ramp, leaving Crijo behind with a look of protest on his face. Kan fixed Aldo with a pointed gaze and waved at him dismissively with his hand.

“Kalos and his son have been through enough.”

Aldo frowned and then slowly nodded his head. “Yes. They have been through enough,” he said woodenly.

Both Crijo’s and Kalos’ jaws dropped in surprise.

Oden spoke again. “Perhaps you should forgive both of them. That is what brothers – and uncles – do, is it not?”

A look of sublime determination came over Aldo’s face and he stared at Kalos. “I am your brother. I forgive you.” He turned toward Crijo and raised his voice. “I am your uncle – and I forgive you too.”

“I, uhm...thank you,” Kalos started to say but words failed him. Crijo grinned widely where he stood under the shuttle, trying not to chuckle.

The Jedi Master waved as if in farewell to Aldo Vaade and started walking back to his new apprentice. “We are leaving now. You will want to check on your other shuttles, I am sure.”

“Yes, you are leaving...goodbye,” said Aldo in the same wooden voice. He was already walking away. “I have shuttles to check, I am sure...” and he was gone.

Oden Kan gave Kalos a self-satisfied smirk, which was met with a look of profound gratitude from the other. Crijo still stood there grinning as the footsteps of his uncle faded away, until Kan reached for his shoulder again. The two paused at the foot of the shuttle-ramp.

“Farewell,” said Kan, looking at Kalos.

“Farewell.” Kalos turned to his son. “May the Force be with you – and come back.”

Crijo grinned again. “I will! Farewell, Father.” Led by his new Master, young Vaade disappeared inside the Vagabond, which soon after began powering up and rising gracefully from the tarmac.

Kalos stood watching the vessel that was taking his son away, and he was still standing there long after it had gone.