A Hundred Thousand Faces

[afro]

In a land whose rocks and winds broke backs and souls, unrest found flight. Whispers of uprising made their way through Republic loyalists on the ground and found themselves in the lap of the planet’s Watchmen, Kailan Sahar. So many calls as these were made seemingly on the hour across what was left of the Republic’s foothold. The Mid Rim was especially vulnerable as it sat right on the edges of Republic allied planets, the number of which was shifting and specious at best.

Yemara Vane was sent with the express purpose of providing aid. The last beacon was somewhere in a village on the outskirts of Iridonia’s civilization where the acid pools were more frequent and heat penetrated not just flesh, but bone. She had seen many worlds, but few so dry, whose winds punished hero and villain, whose existence was testament to nature’s ambivalence toward being and machine. To live, one had to know how to sacrifice either mind or body, Iridonia made sure none could keep both.

But she persisted. Her trek felt infinite, but after nearly an hour of walking, she had come upon the village and circumvented most of the wastes. Sahar, she surmised, would be near. He was, and when she found him, she greeted him as was customary,

”Master Sahar.” she remarked as though she was trying to find the right emotion to evoke but none came; this was yet another job, but she was glad to see a fellow Jedi simply… alive. She remembered his face from some years ago, he was among many she fought beside during the conflict and she was sure it was still fresh on both their minds. They had lost too many. Sahar’s presence was more of a revelation than he knew.

”I am Yemara Vane. The Council has informed me of your situation. What have you found?” she was here for business, and it was time to get to it.

[hugo]

Kailan's bare green torso tensed sharply as he shifted his entire weight from both hands to one.  The motif across his upper back frowned while he struggled to maintain balance.  Even as the lean muscles of his forearm quivered under the strain, Kailan searched for his center.  Despite the tumult perpetuating his entire Mid Rim domain and Iridonia in particular, Kailan felt only peace in the dimly lit hut that had been his home for the past few days.  The Force was quiet here, calm even.

Physicality had always been key in his relationship with the greater Force.  His master was an unorthodox one, having spent time among the disparate Force sects that dotted the galaxy.  Among them were the Zeison Sha and Matukai, from whom he'd adopted a certain emphasis on the Force's relationship to the body.  It had been a cornerstone in Kailan's training, exercise along with unorthodox meditative postures.  He went on like that for some time, lost in his meditation and only moving to cycle between various poses of increasing difficulty.  Shifting to stand on the tips of his toes, he tucked one leg against the other and brought his hands together.  Around him, incidentals, including the plain silver hilt of his lightsaber, began to float and circle his strained form harmoniously.  There is no emotion, there is peace.

Finally, just as he began to sense the planet's cruel heat rising with the morning sun, he had reached his limit, the aching of his limbs exceeding the focus of his mind.  Deftly, he fell to a relaxed crouch, panting slightly as beads of sweat crowned his viridian head.  

 The local Zabrak were not renowned for their hospitality, but they had been accommodating enough to lend the dingy, one room dwelling for his purposes.  He was, after all, here for their benefit.

Once he'd washed as best as could be expected in a gritty backwater like Atruza, Kailan dressed in his favored tunic, a rather humble affair designed for dexterity rather than style.  The unceasing, scorching winds required at least some additional protection, so he'd also brought along his robes and had procured a simple litham from the locals to keep the dust out of his eyes and mouth.  He must have looked a sight, but if the village's denizens cared, they didn't let it show.  They were a gruff people, Iridonians, and those who made their homes on the planet's wild frontier none less so. 

As hard as it may have been to believe, Kailan didn't find himself in Atruza for pleasure.  One of several worlds for which he was to be caretaker, the Zabrak homeworld was a place with many needs.  Even after its recent accession to the Republic, Iridonia was a difficult place.  Brigands and ne'erdowells of every kind made their home in the wastes, leaving tiny settlements like this one exposed to constant raids.

A string of such raids in the region lead him to Altruza in search of clues.  It was hit last week, which on its face was not so strange.  As scarce as resources were out here, successful raids on settlements even as measly as Altruza could bear fruit.  What caught Kailan's attention, however, was what they had taken.  Raiders around these parts were typically after food, ammunition, or medical supplies, and sacked their targets accordingly, tearing the settlement apart until they had all that they could carry.  But Altruza was different.

Over the last couple days, Kailan spoke with what witnesses remained and gleaned that the aggressors, a ragtag group of Zabrak and various others, had taken only a child.  A boy, Hanad, barely five, was their target.  He spoke with the child's distraught father at length, attempting to discern just why they would want his son.  Normally, captives were taken for ransom or recruitment.  But Hanad was only five, and from what he could ascertain from his conversation with the boy's father, they were of no particular means.  Why would they put so much effort towards capturing one child?

It was important to Kailan that he find the boy.  It was not a single family that needed to be made whole, but an entire system.  His betters on the Council and below were clear how important it was for the Jedi to make a good impression on the planet.  The Zabrak needed to feel protected by this Republic they had so reluctantly joined.  If the Mirialan couldn't help them, it wasn't his reputation that would suffer, but that of the entire Order.  Perhaps that was the reason Coruscant acceded so readily to his call for backup.

~~~

She arrived some hours later, before Iridonia's star was too high above.  After meeting with an elder to discuss his investigation, he'd lunched with the village's few remaining warriors and practiced his clumsy Zabraki.  He was with them when he felt her approaching, a faint echo at first and then footsteps, firm and driven.  

Kailan knew Jedi Master Yemara Vane.  They fought alongside one another a few times after Taris, though he had to admit he knew little about her beyond what he'd seen in battle.  There had been little time for conversation then, and even less now.  Coming to his feet in one motion, he met his counterpart as she entered the village.  Heads were turned in every direction.  He couldn't blame them.  Kailan guessed the settlers had never seen a Jedi, much less two, in their little village.

"Master Vane, it's an honor to see you again, though I must confess I wish it were under better circumstances."  He bowed politely and motioned for her to follow.  He took her on a short stroll around the huddled shacks and filled her in on the situation.  "So then, you understand why I requested your help.  I fear the threat here is greater than what can be seen."

"I wished to seek your counsel before going forward, but I figured finding the child would be a good first step as any.  I was able to track them a couple clicks west, but I lost them around the San Ma acid pits ten clicks out."

[afro]

Children were the most valuable commodity in the galaxy; both sides--Sith and Jedi--clamored to claim many as they could. Right or wrong, wars had to be fought, and everyone needed soldiers; these children would become products of justice or subjugation, and that was the reality of their existence. Yemara was but one of many, and she had come to this eureka long ago, and had longer since accepted it. The fighting would never end, and there was no use pontificating on quandary;it was ally or enemy, and when shadows came, sides had to be chosen. Sometimes, though, innocence was exploited in a far more nefarious way.

“Then you’ve already done half the work! Excellent, Master Sahar.” stone expression latched onto inquiring horned heads scattered across the village; Yemara gave recapitulated no welcome and returned her attention to Sahar,

She began walking in the direction he mentioned. The acid pits were good a place as any to cover or falsify tracks and she didn’t know this planet as well as some others, but if she knew anything, this was about to get extremely tedious or extremely dangerous. With the Watchmen’s familiarity with the terrain and the combat experience she knew he had, she was sure the two of them would be ready for both.

“Hm. If it is as you say, then I hope you negotiate as well as you fight. What should we expect once we pass the pits?” she had done many things, hardly any of them consisting of rescuing kidnapped children. A Master was always an apprentice somewhere.

[hugo]

He had to admire this Master--Yemara--she got to the point.  Perhaps she was the push Kailan needed to solve this mystery, end the threat to the locals, and instill faith in the Jedi and the Republic among the local populace.  The Force worked in strange ways at times, and it could hardly be stranger, he thought, than on this foreign, inhospitable planet with it's pits of acid and searing winds.  Before they set out, he packed a rucksack with a couple days worth of essentials.  Along with his always present blaster and lighstaber, he brought along his heavier set of robes and the litham, a primitive but pretty dusky brown fabric he fashioned around his head and neck to shield his face from the harsh winds.  

En route to meet Yemara at the village's edge, he spoke briefly with the Elder, telling him that he and the newly arrived Jedi would likely be gone for some time in their search for the missing child.  He prayed they not send anyone after them should they not return, as if that was the case, their adversaries would prove far too dangerous for anyone the local Zabrak might send.  

"I doubt negotiation will do us much good, Master, " he responded once he'd found her just outside the village outskirts.  Sure, his priority was always a peaceful resolution.  In fact, most of the time when he was summoned, the mere presence of a Jedi and a handful of soothing words and gestures were enough to resolve things to everyone's satisfaction.  Such was not the case today, here.  During his stay in the area, he'd had time to meditate and listen to the living Force on the planet.  It was twisted, warped, deformed.  Perilously out of balance.  Yemara, with time, would feel it too.

Something sinister was afoot here.  This was no petty tribal raid, nor a slave run.  They took a child.  Why that child?

"The acid pits are this way.  Remain vigilant, master, as the path is treacherous and ripe for ambush."  He peered west.  Let us be about it then.  "May the Force be with us."

[afro]

May the Force be with us. It would be, she was sure; it always was. Wills and vessels, and she saw herself and the Order as the latter, always. In the end, they won… well, maybe not as of late. But these shifts came every few decades. And whether this black undulation would remain was something to be seen. What bothered her was not the coil of sinistry, but the lekku of its reach manifest in the splinters of and its being bolstered by the shadow of the Sith, of the Dark side. Yet, she brushed the doom aside.

“Tell me, Master Sahar, do you enjoy being a Watchmen? It seems to be a thankless job.” the Jedi weren’t the galaxy’s protectors so they could reap rewards, but in all her travels, she’d encountered only a few Watchmen, and mostly in passing. Her ‘auntie’, she found out later, was also a Watchman, and their relationship ended on less than ideal terms.

What had he seen of the planet? The people? How did he view himself in relation to the planet’s history, religions--if any--or its ecosystem? Existence in compendium was no easily digestible thing, but she figured he’d had many a wondrous tale, and many more lives lived than her, even if she was presumably ten or more years his senior.

Fighting, winning, losing, that she knew. To touch a milieu for a moment and then be gone, that was the course of her life thus far; but to have the opportunity to revel in new foods, dress, language, and all--to sit with and live in a place was among the innumerable things she desired ‘most’.

Most.What a mess of a word, but it was why the two of them slogged along despite the planet’s wind and heat. What powerful and devious people wanted most was always the cause of peons’ strife and woe.

[hugo]

The wind picked up considerably as the pair of Jedi made their way from the edge of the village westward.  Surrounding the plateau on which the village was settled were mesas, worn by the hot undying gales and low, steep hills comprised of rust-colored rock.  What had been a warm, subtle breeze began to increase in strength and temperature, creating a mild level of discomfort abated somewhat by the cloth garment he'd donned when they set out.  They drew closer to a dense formation of sheer cliff-sides southwest of the village, spotting a few specimens of the area's sparse flora and fauna as they went at a steady, but unhurried pace.

As a result of the rough terrain, there were only a few passable pathways from which the raiders could have come, and consequently, it had been simple enough in the course of his initial investigation to follow their sign westward toward the acid pits.  They had come and gone, he'd ascertained, by a narrow path along the edge of one of the higher cliff-sides.  It was towards this path that Kailan was leading them, though he himself had only gotten as far as the San Ma acid field in his prior, partial pursuit of the perpetrators.

What did he think of being a Watchman? Yeah, it could be thankless.  Locals, particularly the obstinately independent citizens of Iridonia, were not always grateful to have Jedi snooping around in their affairs.  Some folks were suspicious, others merely resentful of Republic interference in their own problems.  But he helped when he could.  The Mid Rim was a tumultuous place, doubly so since the battle at Nar Shadaa.  There was lots of need, and a lot of the time, if you took the risk and trusted the Force to point you in the right direction, you ended up doing some good for people, and sometimes they recognized it.

"It's not so bad.  People aren't always excited to have us around, but I get to help a lot of them who are in need."  He paused for a minute, and it was quiet as they walked across the bright, dusty countryside.  

Something he'd missed about the war, probably the only thing, was that he got to see and explore places across the galaxy.  It was part of what attracted him to the ranks of the Watchmen.  Adventure was far from scarce in such a fateful time and place.  He was able to learn new things about the galaxy and its denizens every day, and that was the real privilege of it all.  Everyday his understanding and faith in the living Force grew as he experienced more of it in new places and among new peoples. 

"There can be a lot sometimes, but the best part is not knowing where I'll be or what I'll be doing tomorrow.  I guess that's the beauty of it."

[afro]

Sahar spoke true, there was always beauty in madness, in uncertainty. Winds hard to brace, the Jedi Master had to hunch herself, and press each step with added might. Atrophy brought on by nature was far different than that of combat, and even now she felt each forward press test the mettle of her legs a little more. Levelling her eyes toward the cliffs immediately beyond the duo’s position when she finally had the chance to raise her head, she sussed the available paths.

Her options were myriad; she could use Sight to help her find impressions or hidden tracks, but she would not use the Force so haphazard. She looked heavenard toward the rising sun which was nearing its peak. Its light unveiled the dangers ahead with needed clarity; Yemara fixed hazel on Sahar,

“Are you never nervous?” she cast with some discovered vigor, the wisps of adventure buoying her former flatness. With Sahar some paces ahead and her intuition at her fingertips, she left the question behind her as she started along the forking pathway toward the steadily elevating cliffsides where Sahar lead them. Sahar’s familiarity with the area helped Yemara land firm on her decision about what path she thought they needed to take. Time, always at stake and never a reliable confidant.

The terrain jutted and juxtaposed beside smoother impressions, and it was an hour and a half since they had arrived at this wasteland far beyond the village before Yemara weaved her way up the cliffside, never too far out of Kalian’s sight. He was a Miralan, lithe for his frame and presumably quite athletic. He would have an easier time across these rocks than she did.

Barring disaster, though, Yemara came what she assumed was the only feasible means of advance--or retreat--for multiple bodies. It left enough room for a winding and confusing escape without assuring a long and horrendous fall to one’s doom in the acid below. She stopped and waited. Once she heard footsteps, she spoke,

“I admit, Master Sahar, that I certainly am.” what lie at the end of that long and narrow maw brought adrenaline to drums in nerves all across her body. She knit the depths of her fear behind trained blank, though it was no effective shroud.