“So get up in there. Let’s go inside.”
Karr began to climb the ladder. He went slowly and carefully, not least of all because he didn’t want to pick up any splinters and he was thoroughly exhausted.
He paused, deeply tired from the trek through the water. He stayed there, in the shadow of the small house, staring out across the soaked grasslands. This was the view his great-grandfather had seen. And much like the connection he felt to Kenobi when he held the training remote on the ship, he felt a connection to Naq Med. Maybe even more so because he was family.
And just like before, a flash lit up the air and the hum filled his ears. Karr marveled at how well he had conquered his visions. The transition was seamless, he thought. Until he realized he wasn’t staring into a vision. He was staring into a face with a very deep frown bathed in the green glow of a very intimidating lightsaber.
“What are you doing here?” the man yelled, causing Karr to nearly fall backward off the ladder.
“I’m looking for Naq Med.”
“Naq Med? Who told you that name?”
“J’Hara.”
The man took a step back, giving Karr a better view of his would-be assailant. What he saw was a very old man who was very thin—doubled over in a crouch, all the better to see who was coming up the ladder. His eyes were bright and deep set, and what remained of his hair was as light and gauzy as a cloud. Most of that hair could be found in his eyebrows, which were as wild and untamed as the wilderness around them.
Karr’s heart almost stopped. He could hardly breathe, but he pulled himself together enough to say, “My name is Karr,” with only the barest squeak of fear, or excitement, or whatever else he was feeling. Everything was a tangle in his chest. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, and he wanted to laugh, all at once.
The man said, “What’s this about J’Hara? You know her?” Before Karr could respond, he observed, “You aren’t alone.”
“No, sir.” His hands were getting sweaty, and his throat was completely dry. His tongue was like sandpaper and ashes, but he said, “They’re my friends. They helped me find you.”
The man extinguished his lightsaber and stood up straight. He was of average height, and he had the lean, sagging build of a man who was almost as old as the ruins he scavenged. He wore plain brown pants and a shirt that might’ve been white, once upon a time. His boots were caked in mud, and his coat hung loosely from his shoulders. “Why would you want to do that? Do you have a message from J’Hara?”
Karr swallowed a gulp and a gasp. Of course the man didn’t know his daughter was dead. There was no one to tell him. Plus, up until moments before, they had all assumed he was also dead. “Sir, could I…could we…come up here? And come inside? I do have news, yes, but it’s…my arms. And my legs. I’m really tired.”
Maybe it was Karr’s shaking elbows or his strained voice, but the old man agreed. He offered him a hand. “If you have news, all right. You can come up.”
Karr was afraid to take the hand—afraid that the fragile old fellow would break if he touched him. But he thought it would be rude to refuse, so he accepted the help and climbed over the side of the platform. “You’re Naq Med, aren’t you?”
“I used to be,” he said grumpily.
Karr called over his shoulder for Maize and RZ-7 to join him, but he could barely take his eyes off this ancient Jedi, wrinkled and withered and not especially happy to see him.
“Who are you, exactly?” the man asked.
“Oh! Sorry. I’m…well, if you’re Naq Med, I’m your great-grandson. Karr Nuq Sin.”
For a moment, he couldn’t tell if the old Jedi believed him. The man didn’t exactly soften, but he became curious. “Great-grandson? I thought you were…” he made a gesture with his hand that suggested a very small child.
Maize’s head popped up over the side. “He’s not exactly a giant, now. But at least he’s—”
Naq Med cut her off. “Old enough to be flying around with another kid and a…some kind of medical droid?” he concluded as RZ-7 appeared.
“That’s Arzee,” Karr told him. “I made him. He’s not exactly a medical droid—but he’s my friend anyway. And this is Maize. She’s my friend, too.”
Naq Med gave them each a hard stare, one at a time, like he was deciding which one to eat first. But in the end, he sighed and said, “You’d better get inside, then. It’s about to rain.”
Maize looked at the sky. “Is it?”
Though it was clear and blue, a swift-moving line of gray appeared on the northern horizon. It hadn’t been there ten minutes before, and it was moving so fast that it’d surely reach them in another ten minutes. Or less.
“Trust me on this one, kids. I’ve been here a long time.” By the time he’d ushered them indoors, the first spitting drops of water were splattering down. They didn’t fall hard, but they fell fast, and the sound of the small storm was a buzzing, humming patter on the metal roof.
“Wow, that was sudden,” she observed, shaking her hair.
“It’s always sudden. The weather here isn’t too bad most of the time, but it changes in the blink of an eye. You may as well make yourselves at home for a few minutes, because you don’t want to walk back in this.”
“I don’t want to walk back at all,” Maize told him.
“I don’t blame you. It was stupid to come on foot. You should’ve grabbed a raft or a dinghy.” He went to the corner of the one-room building and lit a small fire on the stove. “You all look awful, like half-drowned swamp rats. I can’t fix that—but I can make some tea.”
She made a half-hearted effort to wring water out of her pant leg. “Thanks, I’ll take some, and it could be worse. It could be cold and wet.”
Karr was too distracted by the little residence to disagree with her. He didn’t mind the heat, but the terrible stickiness of the humidity was surely more miserable than mere cold might have been. He was a child of the desert, and this semi-swamp made him feel like he was drowning in the very air he breathed.
But he was enthralled by the house, small and simple though it might have been. Perhaps the size of his own living room at home—or the foyer at Maize’s house—Naq Med’s quarters were clean but lightly cluttered. The floor was rough-hewn and covered with a rug that once might have been a curtain; along one wall an assortment of fishing gear was meticulously organized, and several pillows made of burlap sacks were set about the floor for seats or beds. Clean tins were lined up on a shelf above a makeshift sink, and there were two large barrels in one corner that seemed to hold clean water—for that’s where the man dipped a ladle to collect water for tea.
Karr sat down on a cushion and crossed his legs, feeling the vibrations of the Force with his very soul. Every object in the room and the man who’d collected them all resonated with the same tone, buzzing at the same frequency.
This was the Force.
This was a man who’d dedicated his life to it, until he hadn’t anymore.
“Give me this news of J’Hara, if that’s why you’re here,” said the former Jedi, his back to the room as he tended the stove. “Don’t just sit there and stare.”
Karr didn’t want to tell him the truth, but he was determined to be brave. His words only caught in his throat a tiny bit when he said, “I’m sorry to say, but she died.”
Naq Med froze for a moment, his face an unreadable mask. Then he returned to the kettle. “Ah. That’s…well. I’m sorry to hear it, but I thank you for telling me. I was afraid it might be something like that. I felt something. Not a shift in the Force, exactly. More like a hiccup or a”—he fumbled for the correct word—“burp. It wasn’t…it wasn’t violent though, was it? Or a terrible illness? I’d like to think I would have known if some horrific fate befell her.”
“No, sir, nothing like that. Her heart gave out, that’s all.” It was hard to talk about and hard to even think about the way J’Hara’s skin had been the color of old paper and cold to the touch.
“That�
�s…good. As good a death as anyone could ask for. It’s a tragedy, though. No man should outlive his children. What of her son? Your father, I suppose?”
“He’s fine. Everyone’s fine.”
“You have a brother, too. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, sir. But, sir, I came all this way because I needed to talk to you,” Karr tried, hoping to steer the conversation away from a painful family memory and toward something more hopeful and helpful instead. “J’Hara left me a message telling me to find you.”
“Why’s that? She and I, we had an understanding. She was safer without me. Your whole family is safer without me. You might well be putting them all in danger by coming here.”
“The rest of them might be safer,” Karr admitted. “But I’m not. See, for the last couple of years everyone’s been telling me that I’m sick, but that’s not true.”
“It’s not?”
“No, sir, I’m not sick. I am sensitive to the Force.”
The tea was poured. Karr and Maize sat on the scratchy pillows, but Naq Med stood with a cup in his hand. All the cups were mismatched things—tin cans cleaned of their original contents. The heat from the beverages seeped straight through them, so the kids held on to them with the edges of their sleeves.
Either the old Jedi didn’t notice the heat or it didn’t hurt his hands anymore. He paced around the room while he spoke.
“I believe you. I should begin there, I suppose. I knew when I saw you…I knew who you must be, though I thought my eyes deceived me.” He glanced over his shoulder at Karr, who was hanging on every word. “There’s a family resemblance,” he said with the faintest hint of a smile. “You might not believe it now, but I swear to you—it’s like looking in a mirror, eighty years ago. You’re quite a handsome young devil, aren’t you?”
He’d never particularly thought so, but it was nice to hear. “Am I?” he asked modestly.
Naq Med shrugged. “Eh. The potential is there. Another five years, maybe. Another ten, and you’ll wish…” He shook his head. “No, you won’t regret your vows. You’re not a Jedi, nor will you ever become one.”
“That’s what Maz Kanata said. I have the Force, but not enough to be a Jedi. Or not the right kind, I don’t know. I don’t understand, and there’s no one to help me learn. J’Hara tried, but she didn’t know enough to give me the education I need. That’s why she suggested I seek this place out. She thought it might contain items that would help me understand, but I don’t think she expected it to contain you.”
“The Force manifests in many ways, in many different kinds of people. The kind that flows through you…it’s not the energy of a warrior or a monk. It’s something else. Something strong, but something different.”
The old man shrugged again. “I cannot tell you what I do not know. But I can sense it about you. I felt it when you landed, and that’s why I was waiting for you here. I returned to the house when I realized someone was coming and it was someone with the Force. I didn’t know if you were friend or foe.”
“What would you have done, if I’d turned out to be a bad guy?”
“Killed you, I suppose. Or you might have killed me. Who can say? I’ve lived longer than anyone had any reason to expect. Many days, I think it’s a pity. Many days, I wish I’d followed my wife. It wouldn’t have mattered to anyone, would it? You would still be here. Your father, too. My daughter. I’d done everything good I was ever going to do.”
“That’s a terrible thing to think,” Karr protested.
“But no less true, for being terrible. Here, let me show you something.” He put his can of tea on a tiny counter beside the bin he used for a sink. For a few seconds, he dug around in a box that he’d pulled down from a shelf. “It’s in here somewhere, I’m sure. I remember it so clearly, that day. I was at the Temple and—yes! Here it is.”
He retrieved a holoprojector the size of his palm and put the box away. He passed it to Karr.
When the hologram lit up, the boy gasped and slapped one hand over his mouth. He was holding a picture of a Jedi, a portrait on the steps of the temple he’d seen in his vision. The man was a bit older than Karr, maybe in his early twenties. Broad shoulders, flowing robes, lightsaber at his belt. And Karr’s own face, wide with a big smile.
He jumped to his feet, holding the holoprojector by two fingers—like it might bite him if he brought it any closer. “That’s…that’s…”
“That’s me,” the Jedi said. “Many years before you were born. I told you, yes? The family resemblance is really something.”
“No, but—you don’t understand! I saw this! I had a vision, when I touched…when I held…when I saw…” He stammered wildly, trying to sync up the scene in his vision with the image in his hand. “I saw myself fighting! I killed another Jedi!”
Naq Med held out his hands. “No, that’s not it. That’s not it at all.” He reclaimed the device from Karr before the boy could destroy it in his rage and confusion.
“I know what I saw!”
“What you saw might not be what occurred. The Force does not always work cleanly or clearly. What did you touch, when you had this vision of yourself murdering Jedi?”
“A lightsaber! A broken one. It was circular and in two pieces. It once belonged to an Inquisitor.” His voice was shaking, like everything else. His hands quivered, his knees knocked. “I know what I saw,” he said again. Then, with dawning realization he added, “I know what you did.”
“No, you don’t.” Naq Med paused to think. He shoved the holoprojector back into the box. “Let me try to explain. When we discovered that I was Force-sensitive, it was decided that I would become a Padawan and study the ways of the Jedi. I trained tirelessly with my master. Such joy I felt just being in the Temple. But it was outside of the Temple, in the shadow of politics, that I began to have my doubts. A Jedi stands strongest in the light. He has no place in a bureaucracy. Even when approached by those in need of his abilities. And I thought how the Jedi were dealing with it was the wrong path. Perhaps it sounds cowardly or misguided, but you were not there, and you cannot say. After much deliberation, I left the Order. I chose my own path—and once upon it, I met your great-grandmother. We had a daughter, who you knew and loved. I will not say that I made the wrong choice.”
Maize asked, “Where’d you go?”
“That’s not important, except that a few short years later, I learned of Order 66. I heard Palpatine speak about the Jedi uprising. I heard what they did, and I was horrified. It was exactly what I had feared! By then, the Jedi were disbanded and scattered. They’d risen up against the Republic—I heard all about it when Palpatine sent out his report.”
“Palpatine lied!” Karr insisted.
“No, young man. You may know what you saw, but I know what happened because I was there. In time, I was tracked down by the Grand Inquisitor, who pursued me as he pursued all who ever once were part of the Order. But I had a wife, you see? And a daughter. I was no longer any Jedi, and I refused to accept my fate—so I fought the Inquisitor. His lightsaber broke, I remember that much. That must be the one you found, the one you touched.”
“Maybe?”
“Yes, yes. That must be it—but your visions, they’re not perfect, are they? They’re not always clear, and you can’t always take them at face value.”
But Karr wasn’t sure. He repeated, “I know what I saw,” like a mantra.
His great-grandfather knew things, too. “You see the truth, my boy—but you see more than one truth at a time. Yes, I fought the Inquisitor, and the Inquisitor fought Jedi, killed them, in fact. But when you touched the lightsaber, you combined the two visions. You’re not lying and you’re not wrong, you’re just seeing too many things at once. In time, you might be able to tease them out and find more details, more clarity. Even though the Jedi turned on the Republic, I never harmed any of them.”
“But they didn’t turn on the Republic!” Now it was Karr’s turn to share some knowledge. His head was light and his ears w
ere ringing, but he was right and he was righteous.
“Then why else would they execute Order 66? Why else would I flee my family? Why else would I live in a place so far, so remote, and so awful? It was only to protect them. I don’t have much longer to hide, for their safety. For your safety. My time is almost finished, and then you will all be free.”
When he stopped talking, the fine rain shrieked and scraped against the roof. The shack shuddered in the wind, and shallow waves crashed against the pilings that held it all above the water. All Naq Med’s questions had been the kind that didn’t really seek answers, but Karr had some for him anyway.
“The Jedi didn’t betray the Republic—the Republic betrayed them. It was all part of Palpatine’s propaganda.”
The old man whispered, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“But it’s true! I saw it,” Karr insisted. “I may not know enough about the Force to make me a Jedi, but thanks to my abilities I’ve seen some of their history. They were everything you once believed in—they were protectors, guardians, and helpers. They fought for the light, but the darkness won. I’m so sorry,” he said, tears filling his eyes. “I’m so sorry you didn’t know. I’m so sorry there was no one to tell you.”
“It isn’t possible.” He shook his head, unwilling to hear this.
Maize had Karr’s back. “It’s not just possible, it’s true. But the thing is, hardly anybody knows about it. Not anymore. The lie you knew became many people’s reality. The Emperor poisoned the well for the Jedi.”
RZ-7 agreed, as gently as he could. “Sir, you took such noble measures to protect your family—and those measures were successful. But there was no need to turn your back on the Jedi. They never turned their back on the Republic. Or you.”
Naq Med sank slowly to the floor. His grip on the can he used for a cup loosened, and it fell—spilling its contents across the rug. “But if that’s true, it was all for nothing. The Grand Inquisitor…?” he asked of anyone who might answer.
Journey to Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Page 21