He saw holograms and droids, two in particular—one astromech unit and a shiny gold protocol number, almost certainly the original owner of the arm.
He saw great sweeping dunes with large and small sand creatures. He saw murders and marriages, near misses and fatal blows. But most of all, he saw Jedi Knights! Bold and strong and everything Karr had ever dreamed of.
Padawans and generals, men and women and everything in between, human and otherwise, every color. Thousands of them across the galaxy.
Older people, younger people. Troopers and smugglers. Learning and growing, embracing the Force and letting it guide them. He learned of Order 66 and of Palpatine.
He saw strength and honor.
He saw.
He saw Skywalker, a child in a podrace. A teenage boy Karr’s own age, apprenticed to Kenobi. He saw them both, generals and masters, trainers and trainees. Fathers and sons. He saw a young woman with elaborate hair and beautiful clothes, quiet and thoughtful and wise but anguished. He saw children, a girl and a boy, who were separated as infants and sent to different corners of the galaxy for their own protection.
From their own.
From.
From the knight in black, who would’ve killed them both. From their own father, warped into something appalling, turned more machine than man.
He saw.
He heard…
Maz Kanata’s voice. “There’s much to see, I know. Does it hurt you, this time?”
“It…hurts…but it also soothes?” he said vaguely, unsure if it was true at all. He could scarcely hear his own voice above the ruckus. “It’s…it’s so much.”
She nodded. “Yes, that’s closer to the truth. But you can take it, I know you can. You need to. This was for you, one way or another. This is the story you needed to see and hear, in order to understand.” She placed a hand on his shoulder.
Karr hadn’t even realized that Maz had left her perch on the desk, much less that she was close enough to touch him. Reality moved in fits and starts, jerking him back and forth between what he saw and what he knew, between what he was learning and what he was feeling.
Gradually, the visions faded, and Karr began to find his bearings. Suddenly, he was alive, right then, sitting in a chair in Maz Kanata’s office between Jedi ruins above and Jedi ashes below.
Finding a place in the middle.
Finding his balance.
When the long, dramatic vision was over, Karr sat in the chair across from Maz—holding the golden arm in his lap and staring at his hands, as if perhaps there was more yet to see. His mind cleared up, and nothing was doubled, but his eyes were filled with tears. Tears of joy. Tears of loss. Tears of elation. It was exactly what his grandmother had said it would be: wonderful! And he felt her there beside him. He had felt her the entire journey, really, and he was happy they shared that experience just as they had planned. His heart finally quit racing, and he stopped breathing so hard. When he looked like he’d collected his thoughts enough to speak, Maz asked, “How was that?”
It was the kind of question that required multiple answers, but he only had the energy for one. “Helpful.”
Maz Kanata was surprised. “Helpful? Is that all? You’ve been given the history of the Jedi—or a large portion of it, at any rate. And all you have to say is that it was helpful?”
“No,” he admitted. “It was wonderful, too. All of it. I’ve been waiting so long. Trying to piece together who the Jedi were and what the galaxy was like when they were around, even what happened to them, and you’ve given me all the answers. You’ve filled in the gaps and showed me things I never knew. There were two Skywalkers!” he shouted. “Father and son! How could I have missed that? And Luke’s sister, the princess! Plus the way the Jedi were killed—” He stopped suddenly, remembering the ghastly image of himself he had seen.
“What?” asked Maz. “You don’t look very content, for someone who just saw a bounty of riches. Why are you still perplexed? What else did you see?” she asked him gently. She had climbed down from the desk again and was standing at his side.
When he turned to look at her, she was at his eye level. “I saw everything, except…except for the one thing I didn’t see.”
RZ-7 asked, “What’s that?”
He handed the arm back to Maz. “I didn’t see me.”
She gave him a soft, friendly pat on the arm. “Ahhh. Well, that’s because this isn’t your story, my boy. I’m sorry if that confuses you, but it’s not a bad thing. Your story is yours alone, and you must make of it whatever you will, and whatever you can. Whether or not you ever follow the Jedi path.”
A lump formed in his throat as he processed her statement. It was the ambiguity of “whether or not” that scared him. For the longest time he had convinced himself that becoming a Jedi was his destiny. And that if he could just learn the truth about the Jedi he would become one. But there he was, having learned all he could, all there was to know about them, and yet he was still unclear. He wanted to tell Maz about the vision he’d had where he saw himself killing Jedi, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was scary enough when she didn’t know the answers. Karr could only imagine how paralyzing it would be if she did.
With that, Karr thanked her for her time and even squeezed her in a hug—then he and RZ-7 left the castle through the dining hall.
Slowly, they made their way back to their borrowed ship. Karr looked around at the castle and its surrounding market. He saw the same things on the way out that he had on the way in—flags, statues, monuments—but now he saw them through different eyes. Through knowing eyes. In fact, he was pretty sure he recognized some of the symbols on those flags from some of the moments in his vision.
“I guess I should get used to this,” he said aloud.
“What’s that, sir?”
“I see things differently now, Arzee. I mean, I guess you can’t expect to learn as much as I did in one afternoon and not have it change the way you view the world, right? In some ways I’m processing a lifetime of information.”
“More than one lifetime, if I’ve understood what you’ve told me so far.”
“True,” he replied. “There’s gotta be a term for that, wouldn’t you say? Crash course, maybe?”
“I think the term you’re looking for, sir, is…maturity.”
Karr stopped in his tracks. “I don’t think this counts, do you? It’s not like I did all those things.”
The droid pivoted toward his master. “Sir, I understand that you just experienced the journey of the Jedi, but do not forget that it was your own journey that got you here. Credit must be paid to that journey.”
Karr took that in for a moment and realized he couldn’t argue with it. There was really no telling what experiences would change a person. The important thing was to keep having them. “Thanks, Arzee. You’re pretty wise for a droid.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank my maker—wink, wink.”
Karr laughed. “You’re not supposed to say the wink part.”
“Well, you can take that up with my maker, as well. He’s the one who left the eyelids off.”
As they walked back into the hold of the Avadora, Karr saw the broken lightsaber that Dok-Ondar had given him in exchange for the delivery. The same one that had complicated his life from the moment he’d touched it. He had asked Dok-Ondar for it impulsively, because he didn’t want anybody else to see his vision—not that anyone could—but now he was sorry to even have it on board. As he stared at it, brief flashes of his most recent vision flickered at the edge of his memory. Skywalker—two of them, Luke and Anakin—and Kenobi, and all the lives they touched and ended, and all the Jedi who had ever come or gone. He still wondered where he fit in all of it.
“I’m confused, Arzee. What if I’m not meant to be a Jedi?”
“Sir, your sensitivity to the Force would suggest otherwise.”
“But that’s what worries me. What if I’m not meant to be a Jedi because…because I’m meant to be something
else?”
“I don’t quite understand, sir.”
“Clearly I have something, but Maz said I didn’t appear in that vision because that wasn’t my story. The Jedi aren’t my story,” he said emphatically. “So what if I’m meant to become one of these Inquisitors, instead?”
“I believe we’ve learned that they no longer exist.”
Karr was beginning to get agitated. “But what if they come back? What if my vision was of the future and I become some sort of anti–Jedi Knight. We know now that the Jedi aren’t gone completely. Skywalker survived, his sister married, and surely there might be others out there who feel a connection to the Force as I do. But if I’ve learned anything it’s that history repeats itself. What if the Force awakens and there are those who want to snuff it out again? What if there are dark side users who are meant to do such a thing, and I’m meant to become one of them? Look at Anakin Skywalker. He didn’t set out to be bad. He was a good kid who…had a rough childhood, lost his patience, and lost his way. How do I know I won’t have a similar path? You’ve seen me lately, Arzee. I got impatient with Nabrun Leids, I acted without thinking in front of Dok-Ondar. How much darker can my path get?”
RZ-7 paused. He was a mechanical being who was programmed to, among other things, express empathy, but even he had his limits. “Sir, if you don’t mind me saying so, that is a projection based solely on unsupported evidence. Maz herself is also in tune with the Force, and yet she does not seem tasked with the Jedi’s demise.”
“But she didn’t have a vision of her killing Jedi, either!” he yelled.
The silence hung in the air until Karr realized he had misdirected his anger.
“I’m sorry, Arzee. See? There I go again. Let’s—let’s get out of here.”
“And go where, sir?” the droid asked.
Karr wanted to give some epic answer, some command that would send them both traipsing across the galaxy in their stolen (no, borrowed) ship until the First Order caught up to them—then they’d go down in a blaze of glory, fighting the bad guys in the spirit of the Jedi, if only to reaffirm his allegiance to them.
But he didn’t. Because it was pointless. So all he said was, “I don’t know. We’re almost out of money, we’re completely out of ideas….”
“And we’re nearly out of fuel, sir. I suppose I ought to mention it. We’ll have to top off the tanks somewhere. This place doesn’t seem to have a facility we can use.”
“Great. Then we’ll be completely out of money. But you’re right, we should. Maybe…” He paused as he slumped down into the pilot’s chair. “Maybe we could go to Tatooine. It played such a big role for Anakin and Luke—they both grew up there—maybe it’ll spark something for me.”
“That sounds like a plan, sir.”
Karr appreciated the enthusiasm, but he knew he was grasping at straws.
Within the hour the two travelers were camping out in orbit while RZ-7 plotted a course for Tatooine.
Karr was about to try meditating on the plan when he saw that Maize had left him a message on the holocomm. It was almost enough to cheer him up, the idea that she’d thought about him—even when he wasn’t standing directly in front of her. It might be a personal first!
The message was short and to the point: “Hey, laser brain, let me know what’s up.”
When he called her back, she answered right away. It was great to see her face, even if it was very small and transparent in hologram form. “Hi!” he said with a wave. He hoped it sounded cheerful. “How are things back home?”
It must not have worked, because she immediately frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean, what’s wrong? Nothing’s wrong.”
“You look like somebody died. Is Arzee okay?”
He nodded. “He’s fine. I’m fine. I’m just…tired, is all. I experienced something really big today, Maize.”
“Tell me,” she said eagerly.
“I don’t know if I can.”
She immediately got offended. “What? After everything we’ve been through, you can’t—”
“That’s not what I mean,” he said over her protests. “It’s just that there was so much. I came upon an object today that basically told me all of it!”
“All of what?”
“All the history, all the tragedy, all of it. I know all about the Jedi Knights.”
She snorted. “Sure you do. A week on the hyperplanes, and now you know everything there is to know about an order of mystical monks with shiny weapons.”
“But I do!” he protested. “And it was amazing, Maize. Their story is unbelievable.”
“Really? That’s incredible. I can’t believe you know all about them now. So do you know how to finish your training? How to become one?”
“Well,” he hemmed a bit, “like many answers, it…it also led to more questions.”
“Isn’t that always the way,” she said in a light-hearted manner that made him realize she didn’t fully grasp the weight of it all. But he was fine with that. In fact, he preferred it. For the moment anyway.
“What was the object?” she asked.
“The what?”
“What did you touch that gave you all the information?”
“Oh! It was the arm of a droid.”
“Really? Weird.”
“Not so weird,” RZ-7 argued. “I find droids are full of information. And…” he added, leaning his body closer to Karr, “quick to lend a hand.”
The silence that followed was deeper than space itself. RZ-7 righted his posture and headed for the cockpit, throwing back a pleading, “If ever I need reprogramming, sir, please adjust my humor levels.”
Maize and Karr waited for him to leave before they both started laughing so hard they thought they might never stop. Eventually, Maize brought them back on track.
“That’s really wonderful, Karr. I can’t believe you learned so much. Where do you go from here?”
Karr knew she meant that question to be a figurative one, but he didn’t have the answer to that, so he answered practically instead. “I’m not sure. Thought about heading to Tatooine since that played a big part in the vision I saw, but then again…I don’t know? Maybe I should just come home and give the ship back, before I end up in real trouble.”
“Oh, it’ll be fine. My dad doesn’t really care about the ship,” she said, although that wasn’t the kind of trouble Karr was referring to. “If he did, he would’ve mentioned it when he sent the troopers after me. So don’t worry too much about that. You’re bound for trade school, anyway. What else can they do to you?”
“Execute me at dawn,” he joked.
She waved her hand to dismiss the thought. “Like I said, nobody cares about the ship. If anyone gives you any grief about it, I’ll remind them that I’m the one who stole it in the first place. You didn’t even know how to fly when we left.”
“Yeah, I did…” he said weakly.
“We both know better than that, but it’s nice that you’ve learned your way around the controls. Or did Arzee?”
“We, um…we share navigational duties.”
She laughed, and even though she was laughing at him, he smiled in return. It was nice to spend time with her. “Yeah, well. Is anyone on fuel duty?” she asked. “I’m guessing you’re gonna be running out of it soon if you haven’t refueled already.”
“We know,” Karr said defensively, even though it was RZ-7 who had actually called his attention to it. “We’re just figuring out where to stop.” Which reminded him. “Oh, hey, how’s your list coming?”
“What list?” she asked.
“The list of places you want to live, for when your dad asks.”
She let out a little laugh. “Oh. Well, my trip got cut a little short, if you remember. But between the stench of Utapau and the heat of Jakku, I think I’ll stick with Merokia for now.”
He smiled back. “Yeah. I’m beginning to see the appeal.”
“Although…” she continued, “I did
hear my dad talking yesterday, and he mentioned a place called Kijimi. If it’s not too out of the way, maybe you can stop there for fuel and check it out for me. If that’s the next place he’s gonna stick me I should know a thing or two about it. Or at least enough to argue why we shouldn’t go there.”
Karr saluted the hologram. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
Maize smiled. “Great. Then get back here as soon as you finish up,” she ordered.
“You know we will,” he said, and ended the call with a cheerful, “Bye!”
After taking some time out for a brief rest, they made the jump to Kijimi and set down in the Kijimi City spaceport, high atop Mount Izukika. Even before they docked, Karr could tell that he was outside of his warm-weather comfort zone. And so far, there was nothing worth recommending to Maize. Maybe the whole planet wasn’t an icebox, but Kijimi City was almost invisible between the mountains and thick white drifts of snow, except for its glimmering lights. The spaceport itself was nothing to write home about, but it had all the usual amenities—and Karr had just enough credits left to fill up the Avadora with fuel to get him the rest of the way home.
They wandered the city for a little while, admiring the ancient architecture that reminded Karr of pictures of old monasteries, and the wide assortment of goods available for sale, but soon Karr was both too cold to stay outside any longer and too unnerved by the number of disreputable-looking types walking about, so they returned to the service station. They sat in a lobby with small tables and chairs and tiny, insufficient heaters stashed in the corners. Self-serve drinks were available from a bar along one wall, and small packages of snacks for a variety of traveler species were offered for a couple of credits apiece.
Karr picked a bag of chips that tasted mostly like salt and silicon, but it was better than nothing. RZ-7 stood beside him, keeping one digital eye on the ship—which they could see through the large glass wall that separated them from the work going on in the spaceport.
Journey to Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Page 15