I'm going to attempt for a weekly release of chapters on this, but I'm not going to say for sure that's what's going to happen, as work and home life can take over at pretty much any time. This past weekend was a perfect example, but luckily, I had the majority of this chapter written already.
Thank you all for the feedback on the prologue. It always means the most to me when people are interested in my writings and want more. And now, here's chapter one.
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1.
Sitting in his favorite booth at the local Off World Betting parlor, Zyn watched the numerous monitors displayed at the table in front of him. Each one held images of the racers pitted against each other on whatever nameless world they were racing on. He’d put down a significant sum of credits gained from his exploits concerning the Falleen on several different racers, a practice he often participated in to quite a large success. A cheer from inside the parlor erupted as one of the pods on Zyn’s screen erupted into a fireball after colliding with the mouth of a cave.
“I certainly hope you didn’t bet on that one,” a tall, ivory-skinned Twi’lek in brown robes said with a laugh as she slid herself into the seat across from him.
“A pleasure to see you, as always, Seela,” Zyn nodded in respect. “And I wouldn’t let you put your own money on that one.”
A warm smile greeted him from across the table. Seela Me’s smile had always been beautiful to him, lighting up even his darkest hours. Several potential suitors had crossed Zyn’s path over the years, but none struck his fancy quite as much as Seela had. If their lives weren’t such drastically different, he may have attempted to court her, but such things were not meant for him, it seemed.
“Always so protective,” she laughed, to which a guilty grin emerged on Zyn’s face. “One might think you still have feelings for me.”
“If only I could convince you to leave the Old Folks’ Home for something more suiting of your talents.” An uneasy laugh escaped her lips as she turned her deep orange eyes away from the table to avoid his piercing gaze. “So tell me, how are things with the war?”
“In truth, they could be going better,” she answered, her smile dying. “Our losses are beginning to mount and I’m not sure how much longer we can keep up the fight.”
“Then what are you doing back here? If losses are that bad, don’t they need all the fighters they can get?”
During his time at the academy, the only other student in his class who even came close to matching Zyn’s skill with a lightsaber was Seela. She spent nearly as much time training as he had and could match him blow-for-blow in an open exchange. Where she had the edge, however, was in her use of the Force, which partially explained why she was still a part of the Order and he was not.
“It’s not that simple,” she started, but trailed off as her gaze wandered away from the table again. Clearly, she wasn’t keen on sharing whatever her vagueness was hiding, leading him to the only answer that made sense.
“They haven’t made you a Knight yet,” Zyn finished for her, to which she slammed a closed fist down on the table in frustration.
“I hate it when you do that.” Her gaze narrowed at him, but rather than being intimidated, Zyn found his heart fluttering. “You make me feel like a child when you say things like that.”
“Forgive me,” Zyn withdrew. “I meant no offense. I was only completing the picture for myself.”
Zyn saw a sadness in her eyes he hadn’t seen in a long time. Seela wasn’t one to let her emotions control her, an essential quality in a Jedi. It something Zyn admired and often attempted to emulate. He knew better than to think himself on par with her when it came to self-control, however.
“What are you doing back here?” he asked, attempting to take her mind off the sore subject. “There has to be a reason a Padawan such as yourself is in a lowly place like this and not out there with your master.”
“Master Etain sent me to deliver an update to the Council regarding the events on Kashyyk,” Seela explained. “My transport doesn’t leave until morning, and as it happens, I have a favor to ask of you.”
Zyn’s interest was instantly piqued. Here was Seela, a Jedi Padawan poised to become a Knight any day now, asking a favor she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, ask to her own Order. Instead, she chose to ask an outsider, but not just any outsider. She was asking him, a failed Padawan, meaning this would be a delicate situation the Jedi could not be seen doing.
“What kind of favor?” he asked, giving her his full attention.
“An acquaintance of mine wanted me to ask the Order for personal protection on a trip off world,” she started, but Zyn interrupted with a laugh.
“The Jedi are peacekeepers,” he explained. “Not bodyguards.”
“Which is what I told him, but I offered him the next best thing.”
“A drop out?”
A frown appeared on her otherwise immaculate face. Zyn lived to see her smile, often going out of his way in past to make sure she did. These days, he found very little to smile about outside of his gambling winnings, and it caused his heart to ache seeing Seela as glum as himself.
“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “Poor attempt at humor. What makes you think I’d agree to something like this?”
“For the same reason you still have your lightsaber.”
Smuggling his weapons out the Temple was no easy task, nor was covering his tracks. In fact, he had to enlist Seela herself for help. Zyn had no idea how she did it, but she was able to convince the armorer that a tube of metal and various scrap electronic components sloppily joined together was a working lightsaber. Zyn’s reputation of function over fashion may have helped in the plausibility of the story, but at the end of the day, his lightsaber was reported as destroyed while still in his possession.
“You’re a fighter,” she told him. “You have been all your life, and you secretly live for it.”
Zyn found truth in her words. He could lie all he wanted to others and even himself about wanting to avoid fights, but in his heart, he knew the truth. There was a joy to be had in violence, having tested one’s strength against another and coming out victorious. He’d felt it when he confronted the three Falleen just hours ago. Admittedly, losing a fight could mean losing his life, but to Zyn, where was the fun without danger?
“Being a bodyguard doesn’t mean I’ll see a fight,” he pointed out.
“True,” she admitted. “But if there isn’t one, you get paid for doing nothing, which I also know works for you.” He had to hand it to her: she knew him better than anyone else in the galaxy did.
“What’s the assignment?”
“A Muun banker is making a trip to Kuat to inspect an investment. Apparently, he thinks there will be trouble, but I don’t think it’s anything you can’t handle.”
“How much?”
“He’s offered five hundred thousand credits, with another five hundred thousand once he’s safely back here.”
An inadvertent laugh escaped his lips as he sat back in his seat to mull over what she was actually offering him. One million credits would certainly keep him satisfied for quite some time, but the offer itself didn’t seem believable. That amount to have a faceless nobody babysit some hotshot banker while he toured one of the most highly protected areas of the Republic made no sense at all. There was something deeper to this, but he wasn’t sure if Seela was in on whatever it was, as she wore a scowl until his laughter died down.
“I’m sorry,” he started, hunching forward over the table. “I wasn’t laughing at you, but at the offer. One million credits to watch someone’s back in secured space? What’s the catch?”
“None, so far as I know,” she answered. “Maybe he wants to lure you into some full time work?”
Slowly leaning back once more, Zyn considered his options. He could refuse and continue his life as he always had, on his own and scraping the bottom of the barrel to survive. Admittedly, he was used to it by now, but the thought of finally getting off of Coruscant for good seemed too good to pass on. He wasn’t sure he could accept working for someone full time anymore, but if he wanted to leave at the end of this job, no one could force him to stay.
“You owe me,” Seela blurted out after a long silence. “And not just for the lightsaber.”
As usual, she was right. Zyn owed his friend not only his livelihood, but almost his entire life itself. Those days after failing the Trial of Spirit were, without a doubt, the darkest of his life. What seemed to be a simple test of meditation had led to him emerging from his trance a broken man. The visions he saw had scarred him, and after being brought back from the brink of madness by Seela herself, he vowed to never again revisit those particular demons. His dreams, on the other hand, seemed to disagree.
“If that’s the case, then I have no choice,” Zyn finally said after a long stretch of silence between them. Seela’s eyes lit up with excitement.
“This will be good for you,” she smiled. “It will get you back to some semblance of normalcy.” Despite the urge to argue that point, Zyn stayed silent as Seela slipped herself from the booth and climbed to her feet.
“So where am I meeting my new client?” Zyn asked, getting to his feet as well.
“His ship is in Eastport, Docking Bay Thirty Seven Thirty Two. His name is Udo Horn and he’s been staying on his yacht, the
Infinite.”
Of course, he would have a yacht, Zyn thought to himself. “It leaves at dawn, correct?”
“Would you expect anything different?” she beamed. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You, as well,” he told her, offering out a hand to shake.
Grabbing a hold of his hand, she quickly pulled him in for an unexpected hug. Her grip on him was tight, but he returned the sentiment but squeezing her firmly himself. They stood in their embrace for several moments, pulling the eyes of several of the parlor’s patrons to them, but paying them all no mind.
“Take care of yourself,” she told him after they finally released each other. “I don’t want you getting into any more trouble than you can handle.”
“You know I can’t promise that.” He felt himself grinning foolishly. “But you be careful as well, and may the Force be with you.”
“I would say the same to you, but I know you have problems with that.”
Zyn found the remark a kick below the belt to his pride. Coming from her, he knew it was all in jest, but the subject was still a bit of a sore spot for him. He knew his connection to the Force would forever be a wound that hadn’t quite healed.
“Goodbye, Zyn,” she told him.
“Farewell, Seela,” he returned with a forced smile.
Without another word, she spun on her heel and headed for the exit. As she walked, Zyn couldn't help but notice her lekku had twice crossed over each other as they fell down her back in a nonverbal message to him. He fought the urge to call her on the gesture, however, knowing it would lead exactly nowhere. Instead, he slipped back into his booth to watch the end of the race and wonder exactly what he’d gotten himself into.