Star Wars: Duality

CHAPTER ONE: ARRIVAL

Lightning flashes. The wind howls like a beast yearning to be set free. And down in the worst of the maelstrom, a child cries out. The boy, not even a year old, lies in a cloaked figure's arms. He cries not for the rain pelting his face, but for the sadness he senses. A sadness deeper than one being could produce; it is that of two. Two silhouettes, standing together in a doorway, unknowable but for the grief emanating from them. The storm seems to intensify as the distance between the threshold and the boys' courier grows, steady with each step. The child looks into the shadowed visage above him, and sees the face of a wolf; but instead of fear, he is filled with serenity as the beast opens its mouth and whispers...

"-NOW ARRIVING AT DOCK 13, PLEASE WATCH YOUR STEP AS YOU EXIT THE SHUTTLE.

    Drystan woke with a start and hit his head on the frame of the window he had been sleeping fitfully against. A cacophony of droid beeps, alien languages, and a pair of wailing Twi'lek infants made his headache worse than it otherwise would have been. This was the third time in almost as many days Drystan had experienced that old, stormy vision; he began to long for his dorm back in the Jedi Temple but denied himself the thought just as quickly. Two whole years had passed, and still his memories of the Purge broke his heart anew each time they surfaced.

    "You gettin' off, or what?" The shuttle pilot, a surprisingly verbose old man, was leaning over the back of his seat to look at Drystan, one of the last beings onboard. "Gettin' lost in thought'll getcha lost in person if you ain't careful, kid," the pilot chuckled. "Or lucky. If you ain't lucky, you sure came to the wrong planet!" Drystan said nothing as he got up and moved to the shuttle's forward door. As he stepped out onto the windy docking platform, the pilot called to him.
    "Whatever you're lookin' for, kid, I hope you find it!" he said with a grin. Then the shuttle doors closed, and Drystan was left wondering whether or not to agree with him.

—

    Moving at barely a Hutt's pace through the lines of tourists and travelers navigating the customs building, Drystan took a deep breath and reflected on his surroundings. The planetoid he found himself on was called Tyrne. It was a mountainous place with a thin atmosphere; too small to be a major planet but larger than the average asteroid, spacers first discovered it at the height of the Galactic Republic's golden age. It was dense enough with mineral resources and far enough into the Outer Rim for it to become an almost irresistible draw to independent miners and enterprising freighter captains (or any beings trying to find refuge from galactic authority). With no sentient indigenous species to disrupt and plenty of potential for unscrupulous business, Tyrne became ground zero for a booming casino industry. If you wanted to play fast and loose, Tyrne was your destination; how far had it fallen, what with the Empire in charge now.
    Drystan thought the crowd he walked amidst was an excellent sample of the kind of people who frequented Tyrne's biggest, capital settlement called Prosperity. Locals, mostly miners roughened by the planet's harsh wilderness, came and went practically invisible to the vibrant throngs of tourists. The tourists marveled at the bright neon signs they'd seen out the shuttle window on their way down, and they exclaimed about their plans to live it up... loud enough for the shifty characters on the fringes of the crowd to pick out the easiest marks to swindle or simply rob. Although, these lowlifes weren't as brazen as perhaps they once were, thanks to the most recent addition to the scene: patrolling stormtrooper pairs who scared just about every group out of their path. The Imperial garrison had moved in quickly once Palpatine assumed control of the galaxy, and after two long years of "security adjustments'', one could smell frustration and dissent in the air emanating from all parties.
    At the front of the next queue over from Drystan, a trooper had pulled a young Zabrak woman aside. Flustered as she was, her posture was not one of submission.
    "I didn't even do anything!" she yelled. "You shiny white monkey-lizards are just fishing for reasons to rough us up!"
    She struggled unsuccessfully as the stormtrooper kept a tight grip on her arm. "Your tone isn't doing you any favors. This is just a random inspection, so keep fighting me and you'll wind up in a much rougher spot than you're in now!" Another trooper started walking over to assist, the woman continued cursing and pulling away, and Drystan felt a war fought within himself in an instant.
    "Next!" The customs officer looked at Drystan, now at the front of his line, with impatience and some amount of suspicion.
    I cannot help her without drawing attention to myself, but I cannot leave her without forsaking the selfless life Master Vohz taught me to live, Drystan thought. His mind raced and his soul protested the scene unfolding before him, but indecision coupled with desperation to complete his quest held sway. I am so sorry.

    He moved forward and tried to tune out the sounds of the Zabrak being dragged away. The officer's raised eyebrow came down a fraction of an inch. "State your business."
    "Looking for my M- uh, for a friend of mine." Drystan managed a tentative smile and hoped there was no sweat glistening on his brow. "I hear this is a nice place to visit for a little excitement."
    The officer snorted behind his transparisteel booth. "That's putting it mildly." He looked over Drystan's identichip. "Jesse Nebula?"
    Drystan suppressed a grimace at the name. He wasn't proud of his dealings with the slicer who had procured him that identification, but that being said, he never had the luxury to be a stickler for details. His 18 years of age and his curly brown hair made him look too young to be truly dangerous, but still an odd sight traveling by himself. "Yes, that's me. I guess I'd say I'm here for pleasure?"
    "Yes, I guess you would," replied the customs officer tersely. He gave Drystan one more inquisitive look, then passed the identichip back. "Your ID checks out. Stay in the upper city if you know what's good for you; the Empire takes no responsibility for goods misplaced or stolen, or for any harm you may withstand for straying outside of the regulated entertainment district. If you see any suspicious or unlawful conduct, report it to the nearest authorities immediately."

    Were Drystan feeling bold, he would have immediately reported to the officer the unjust treatment of the Zabrak woman (who had disappeared behind a set of heavy durasteel doors moments earlier), but fear of discovery quelled his wit. "I'll be sure to do that," he said as he put his bag in the scanner and moved towards the security gate. 

     Drystan braced himself. This was the most crucial step in his plan to get into Prosperity: the customs officer's eyes began to widen at the screen in front of him revealing a lightsaber in the bag, so Drystan reached out through the Force and influenced the man's mind. Master Vohz had always insisted that the abilities a Jedi manifested most strongly were a signpost pointing them down whatever path the Force had for them to follow; for Drystan, mind tricks and other empathetic powers were second nature to him. He gently pushed the officer's mind towards complacency, towards apathy. This man saw multitudes of similar bags scanned regularly, so what was one more to be waved through without a second thought? Any trace of alarm melted off of his face, and he blinked slowly before calling out. 

     "Next in line!" Drystan grabbed his bag and moved quickly onward; he had made it through. At the front of the customs building, the crowd dispersed like the mouth of a mighty river out into a sea of cool evening air. For two years, Drystan had traveled a harrowing journey of survival that now lay finished behind him. It seemed a crossroads was lying in wait ahead of him, somewhere in the bustling metropolis. He steeled himself and ventured out into the night.