Shattered

1

This happiness is overwhelming.  There’s my mother, sitting in the front with my brothers – even they have tears in their eyes.

The marriage overseer guides us through the ceremony: The exchanging of crowns (“To represent shared sovereignty”); the digging of dirt (“With which you both bury your past and plant a new life”); the long, sky blue Rwuil that we both wear, (“This scarf shall hang over your door, and wrap your children”); a declaration of devotion (“Through whatever trials”).

Kho stands tall and still – I see joy in his sturdy face, even as he tries to maintain his signature remoteness.  I had begged him to drop it, just for this day, but he refused, insisting his family would find it shameful. His calmness in the face of danger had seen us through trying times, but still I wish he would lower his mask more often than he did.

“Dorchas,” the overseer says to me, holding the indigo kyburn crystal in her hand, “Will you touch this crystal, as an affirmation of your vows made today by word and by ritual, and pledge yourself to Kho-Siab?”“I shall,” I say, my voice shaking less than I expected. I put my hand on top of the crystal, gripping it. I had known it was just a replica, but still I feel disappointment upon contact; I had hoped to feel some warmth.

“Kho-Siab,” the overseer says now.  “Will you touch this crystal, as an affirmation of your vows made today by word and ritual, and pledge yourself to Dochas?”

“I shall,” he says, his deep voice as firm as ever.  He puts his hand on the bottom of the crystal, and I feel it shift as he grips it.  An undeniable thrill runs through me as a glimmering tear slides down his dark face.  I am grateful for his sake it goes down his right cheek, hidden from the crowd.

“Then,” says the overseer, removing her hand from the crystal, “I hereby declare you to be married.  May the Force be with you, and may you trust it’s flow.”

Silver beans fill the air as the attendees shower us with sweet wishes.  I’d always hoped my wedding would be the happiest day of my life.  And it is.  And as a child, that had been enough.  But the idea of leaving this level of elation behind pained me.  I kiss Kho-Siab deeply, who easily wraps me in his big arms.  When our lips part I whisper “I hope it only gets better.”

“It will,” he says, in his self-assured way.  Though not an optimist by choice – how can one of his clan be? – he’s always looked out for me.  As long as he lives I know I will be safe.  Before turning towards our families, I wipe the tear track from his face.  We face the crowd, as united in the world as we are in our hearts.

2

I close the door behind me and let out a gasp.  The doctors said she was safe, that this amount of distress was normal.  Still, it overwhelms me.  That I had run fills me with shame.  I can still hear her screams through the walls, but at least I am alone in the hall.

My father told me when you have a child it all changes.  Everything is viewed differently.  That there’s nothing ever better again than holding your own child.  No matter what else had brought you joy, as long as you could hold them, that was all you wanted.  It was like holding the future.  That’s what he had said, but he hadn’t mentioned the helplessness.

Dorchas and I had talked about having children even before we got married, and years had passed before we finally tried.  The chaos of the end of the civil war made it seem too risky.  Though the Rebels had declared the Republic restored, everyone knew it wasn’t completely true.  It was just something to give a long-suffering people something to believe in.  A sense of progress.

But for Dorchas and I, it was enough.  We had waited until the Rebels liberated Thrantin to get married, and it had seemed natural to wait until the Rebels had total victory to have children.  But the waiting turned from anticipation to endurance to suffering.  The civil war had done more than break the Empire; it had broken the galaxy’s sense of unity.  “I don’t want to wait forever,” Dorchas had said.  And so we wouldn’t.  Rather than wait for peace, we decided to offer our children to the cause.  Let them shape the galaxy they will live in.

Remembering all this, I feel my heart relax.  I close my eyes to center myself.  I reach out to Dorchas’ pain in the next room and try to soothe it.  Instead I absorb it, but I can endure painful energy better than painful screams.  My arms shake and I hold them still.  My knees grow weak and I resolve them.  My eyes moisten, but I will them dry.  Be as the stone sign, helping without hint of need.

No longer overwhelmed by pain, I feel Dorchas looking for me.  Taking a deep breath, I go back in, walking up to her bedside.  I take her hand and stroke it – it’s so much smaller than mine.  She squeezes hard and smiles.  I brush black hair away from her eyes.  She looks uncannily beautiful, even as she scrunches her thick eyebrows and pushes our child into the world.

Dorchas’ wailing ends and another’s begins.  I feel it before I hear it.  Our child – a daughter.  The doctor takes the baby and gives her to Dorchas, resting the baby on her chest.  Dorchas strokes the baby’s wet hair, sniffs her head, smiles, and then promptly falls asleep.  I take the baby and gingerly wrap her in our Rwuil.  We will name her Notali, and she will own the future.

3

It’s been two years since Notali was been born.  She is a gift beyond anything we could have hoped for.  Even the sleepless nights, now rarer, we see as gifts.  Precious time to spend with a child who we know will one day save us all.  But I suppose all parents feel this way about their children.

We encourage her to blow out the candle, pursing our lips and making exaggerated blowing sounds.  But whenever we do this she just giggles and blows hot air right into our face.  “No, no,” Kho laughs, “I mean yes.  But do it to the candle.”  But she loves to see us smile so she continues her game.

I center the two of them in the viewfinder.  Kho has to hunch down to be in the shot.  Our daughter is wrapped in our Rwuil, her brown curls contrasting against the blue fabric.

I put the tri-corder on automatic and go over to the two of them, kissing each on the head.  “Notty,” I say, “Let’s do it all together.”  I gently turn her head towards the candle.  “On the count of three.”  She leads us – wun, doo, ftree.  We all blow.  Well, Kho and I only pretend.  I hadn’t even told him, but he knew.  He always seems to know what I am thinking.  But Notty blows, and the purple flame dances before turning to smoke.  We clap and cheer; I reach for the knife while Kho retrieves the present.

Slices of yellow zang cake are on our plates and, after devouring hers, Notali reaches for the gift on the table.  She takes pleasure in opening it slowly, as if the paper itself were part of the gift.  Children are so funny, you know?  As the wrapping is removed, a round remote trainer is revealed.  When she touches it, it glows and begins to shake.  Her uneven smile reaches from ear to ear as she looks with awe at the device.

“Put it on the floor.”  I tell her, holding Kho’s arm.  She does, and immediately the remote sprouts legs, like a spider.  She shrieks.  It runs off briefly before stopping behind a table leg, looking coyly back at her to make sure it hadn’t been forgotten.   With a squeal, she chases after her new toy.  Delightful.

Kho and I take the moment to pour ourselves a drink.  As she plays, we toast to our family.

4

Dorchas runs from the bedroom.  “Where is Notali?” she shouts over the alarms.

“In the playroom,” I respond calmly. “No,” I said again, “she’s coming.”

At that moment Notali toddles into the kitchen, tears streaming down her chubby face.  If she had been born among my people she would have learned to control her feelings, as I have.  But my decision to marry Dorchas denied her that life.  I will need to teach her someday, though.  Us Elethu feel fiercely.

I try to send a sense of calm to Notty and her mother, who is now also crying.  But I am not successful, and their panic instead threatens cross to me.  I shut the connection down.   Be as the stone sign.

“We have a plan.” I command, “Recall it.”  Mother and daughter go to their bedrooms to retrieve their emergency bags, and I lift the loose tile in the kitchen to get our rations.

The Republic had been reigning for about five years, and democracy and order were strengthening all over the galaxy.  We had settled in Xa Fel because we wanted to give Notali an opportunity to direct her future.  Too deep in the galactic core and she’d be just another citizen – too rimward, as Thrantin was, and the Republic may never reach her.  But here there was a future to be built, and she could be the one to build it.

But we had been wrong.  Beyond the reaches of the Republic the remnants of the Empire had united under the First Order.  Their Stormtroopers had been harassing Republic ships in the mid-rim for the past year, and recently they had begun conquering planets.  Several in our system had fallen quickly, and while the Republic sent troops to defend us, they were consistently outmatched; First Order troops seem infinite.  Some said they had retaken Kamino and were pumping out new Clone Troopers.

My face a mask of calm, I hold my hands out to my family.  Dorchas takes our Rwuil from the doorway and wraps it around her arm before taking my left hand. Notty takes my right as we leave the house behind, unsure if we shall ever see it again.  I lead them down to the bunkers.

When we arrive in the valley the line to get into the bunker is already very long.  The government had refused to run drills, worrying that would showcase a lack of confidence in the Republic.  Beyond being told where the bunkers were, there was no Plan, except what each family had developed.  Xa Fel officials patrol the area, attempting to keep order among the people.

I fight to maintain my calm against the wave of worry that permeates the area.  Little Notali could be drowned in such a storm of despair.  Having some of my blood she is attuned to the feelings of others, but of course is yet untrained.  Sometimes I feel her reach out during the night, when she wakes up afraid from a dream.   I reach back to her and assure her everything is alright, and she falls back asleep as easily as if I were there next to her.  Her mother thought she never had nightmares, and I hadn’t yet the heart to tell her otherwise.

The sky fills with gunships.  From some amplifier at the bottom of each a single voice came booming.  “Citizens of Xa Fel:  Your Republic has been beaten back.  You are now under the auspices of the First Order.  Submit to us, and you shall find us better than you will otherwise.  Our goal is to create a Galactic order beyond what the Emperor ever devised: While he sought to strengthen himself, we seek to strengthen the whole.  The New Republic hopes to rebuild the past, based on tolerance of difference.  We promise you a bright future, where everyone will have their place.”

We expect their propaganda.  We shake our fists at the ships.  Imagine that – thousands of unarmed families shaking their fists at an army.  The defiance is admirable.  But it is not enough.  They will mow us down.

The black and red gunships open fire on the queue, sending dozens flying into the mountainside surrounding the valley.  One ship circles around and sends a blast into the cliffs, causing an avalanche blocking the path to the bunkers.  “You will not be killed unless you show it is necessary.  We will land.”

This is unexpected.  The First Order is not known for its personability.  One gunship lands on a ledge in the mountains, while the others hover above us.  Out strides a comely commander, in a fine uniform and walking confidently.  What am I thinking?  This is my enemy!

“Welcome into the fold!”  He declares, smiling all the while.  His booming voice echoes spendidly in the valley.  “Your resistance would be inconvenient.  There is no need.”  A blaster bolt flies from down the line.  An orange shield flashes around him.  Quickly he draws his own blaster and fires back.  An explosion rocks the line, sending several people into the air.  That is no ordinary blaster.  “I am gracious, but not foolish.”  He says.

I reach out to him and find his emotions are of contempt and annoyance.  This is not his first conquered planet.  He has no hatred for us.  I probe deeper.  He finds our resistance bothersome instead of an impediment.  Other planets were perhaps subjugated more easily.

He turns his head and raises a comm to his ear.  He nodded.  “Your cities have fallen.  Your weak governors have fled.  Do not give your life for their cowardice.”  I feel the mood shift from defiance to dismay.  Dorchas turns to me and says, “They wouldn’t run, would they?” Notali holds my arm tightly, her face twisted in pain.

More gunships descend.  Landing ramps are lowered and Stormtroopers emerged, all in glistening white.  Stories tell of them destroying whole cities just for fun.  Exaggerations, surely.  Right?

Suddenly I notice the commander nodding with approval.  I look to the left and see the people kneeling.  Even the Xa Fel officials are surrendering!  Rage boils in me.  Suddenly overwhelmed by the hopelessness around me, I charge towards a line of stormtroopers.  Guns already up, they fire at me.  I raise my hands.  Their blaster bolts die in the air.

But suddenly there is a loud blast below my feet the ground explodes in a burst of rocks.  One of them cuts deep into my left leg and I fall.  My eyes are wet.  Around me I feel astonishment, pity, anger, fear.  But I am pulled back by familiar screams: The Stormtroopers are taking Notali and Dorchas!  Dorchas manages to elbow one in the chin, and he loses his grip on her.  He lifts his gun.  “Stun them both,” the commander bellows.  Everything goes blue, and then everything goes black.

5

The windowless dorm is cramped, but it’s home, at least while we wait for processing.  When we applied for asylum with the Republic we were given a wait-time of several weeks, but that window had long since passed.  The First Order had struck several planets within a standard month.  I originally resisted unpacking, loathe to admit our stasis, but Kho said he sensed growing unease, confirmed by the news reports of the growing refugee crisis.  “Might as well be comfortable,” he had said smiling.  He always knows how to make me feel better.

Well, usually.  Obviously there was nothing to be said when Notali was taken away.  And when we sold our home, we got a fraction of its worth.  Everyone was selling to get off-world.  I had never been poor, and the prospect worried me.  Kho and I agreed to return to our families on Thrantin but we weren’t able to scrounge up the money.  So we went to the Republic core.

Kho straightens the bedsheets while I finish plating some snacks.  There isn’t much to do in the dorms, so we leave often, but it can be dangerous around the camp.  The Republic is resistant to having law enforcement.  They worry about appearing like the Empire.  So we eat our treats in the safety of our dorm.

“What would you like to do today, my love?”  He asks as he sits down.  “I sense you are tired.” Kho used to be less frank about sensing me – but ever since Notali was taken he has endeavored to be more open.  I think he is most sad of the connection he lost with her.  She had inherited some of his tribal talents.

“Well, I do feel tired.  But I think getting out will help more than sleeping.  Honestly, I’m more bored than tired.”  Kho understands all feelings only at face-value.  It doesn’t occur to him that they might be only a symptom of a deeper cause.  “Let’s go to the Tryp arena and see what’s happening there.”
 “Then so we shall,” he says, lightly hitting the table.  He is always agreeable, though what else is there to say?  The camp doesn’t offer much to do.

The dorm com lets out a chirp.  “Who could that be?”  He asks, beginning to stand.
“I’ll get it,” I say quickly, standing immediately. I walk by him and quickly kiss his forehead.  He reaches out and touches my arm.  I feel his fingers graze my skin as I walk toward the speaker on the wall.  “Yes?”  I ask.
“Unit 2187?” A feminine voice, though made metallic by the speaker.
I glance at the number over the door, brushing the Rwuil aside to read them.  The edges are beginning to fray.  I’ll have to get that mended.
 “Yes.”  I confirm.
“Kho-Siab and Dorchas?”
“Yes.  This is Dorchas.  Kho-Siab is here, too.”
 “Just the two of you?”  She asks.  She obviously has no idea how much that question hurts.
I swallow hard to calm my voice.  I feel Kho’s… presence… in me, too, supporting me.  “Yes.”
“Please report right away to the resettlement desk on floor 17.  Your code is Wampa.”
“Yes.  Thank you, thank you!”

I turn to see Kho smiling, but it’s the distant smile of someone happy to see you happy.  Kho needs to keep his emotions in check.  He has less control.  Though this protects him from despair, it also prevents him from feeling ecstasy.  I don’t know if I’d want that for myself.

“Well, we should go up there.” I say.  “Come on, let’s get ready.  How do I look?  I haven’t cleaned up yet.”
“You look lovely.”
I squint at his dark face.  “How will I look to them.”
“I will make them see you as I do.”
I giggle.  “I hope not – we could get them fired for unprofessional behavior.”  I walk into the small washroom and look in the mirror.  “Just give me a few minutes.”
“Just as well,” I hear him standing.  “I need to get ready, too.”  His steps towards our room are uneven, as they have been since that day.  When we arrived at the camp we asked for bacta treatment for his leg, but they said it was being rationed by priority and, since he could walk, he was quite low.  But maybe as Republic citizens…

6

The hardest part of our second child are the first few years.  The impulse to compare children is difficult to resist, and with the comparison came the memory.  It was only after Adar turned five that it became easier.

 “I’m nervous,” Dorchas says that night in bed.  When Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight, invites himself to your apartment, you cannot say no.  “But not like, giddy.  Not any more.”
“It will all be alright,” I say calmly.
“Don’t just say that!”  She moves away, turning on her side to face the wall.  “I’m worried!  And so should you.  And don’t just calm me down, Kho.  I want to talk about this.”  She has become more resistant to my connections.  She said adults discuss their problems so they can solve them.  I understand.  But it's a habit that is difficult to break.

“Ok,” I say.  “Tell me why you are worried.”
“Luke wants to reassemble the Jedi Academy,” She says.  “But what do we know of the Jedi?  They take children away.  They’re no different than the First Order!”
“They are plenty different,” I say, my voice rising.
“How?”  She asks.  I feel her anger.  I resist the temptation to reach out to her, even though it would be much easier.
“The First Order takes children away to terrorize.  The Jedi have a noble cause.”
“How can you be sure?  You know how they contributed to the rise of the Empire.”
“Because Luke is coming here to ask for Adar.”  I hear her breathing calm, and feel her presence quiet.  She shimmies closer to me on the bed, pressing her body against mine.
“And what if we say no?”  She asks, quietly.
“Then he will leave him with us.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I still have one good leg to kick him out with.”
She chuckles, and soon we drift off to sleep.

7

Luke Skywalker sits cross-legged on the floor while we speak.  He wears a blue and green robe.  I had expected a Jedi to be more forceful, to take up more conversation space, but Luke hasn’t spoken in quite a few minutes.  He listens fiercely.

When we are finished he places his teacup down.  I lean in to refill it.

“Now I understand the wariness I sense from both of you.”  Luke says, brushing some of the brown hair from his eyes.  He turns to me.  I suppose he senses I have more anxiety.  Kho-Siab is always so frustratingly calm.  “I can assure you I am not here to take your son.  The decision remains yours.  And if you do allow me to train him, he will not be taken, not the way Notali was.”

“How can we be sure?”  I ask.
“Well,” Luke picks up his teacup, takes a sip, and puts it back down.  “I can assure you, but I will not.  Such assurances would be meaningless to you.  If you would believe me, I wouldn’t need to assure you.”  He winks.  “The First Order took your child to deprive you of them.  They took her to bend her to their will.  That is their way.  It is not ours.  We will strengthen your child.  When they return to you, you shall understand.  Your child has potential.  Allow me to cultivate him, for both of you, and for the Republic,” Luke turns to Kho.  “Now, it is at this point I would usually explain exactly what that means – to become strong in the Force.  But, Kho, I sense you already know what this means.”

I see Kho blink.  Why is Luke singling him out like this?  We both know what the Force is.  The real question is how did Adar get it.

“I don’t know what you mean.”  Kho says, looking up from his teacup.  Luke closes his eyes and Kho suddenly sits up straighter.  After a few moments, Luke opens his eyes.  “Really?”  He looks inquisitively at Kho.  Kho stares at him, face full of astonishment.

Luke turns to me, “Forgive me, Dorchas.  I was asking your husband about the breadth of his powers when he gave me a surprising answer.  See, the Force resonates strongly around individuals who can bend it to their will.  That is how I identified Adar, as you know.  But Kho is also very strong in the Force, though he doesn’t seem to know.
I laugh.  “Kho isn’t a Jedi.”  Kho breaks his mask and a few chuckles are forced out.
“I know.”  Luke said, his green eyes shining.
After a silence, I snap at him, “And he’s no Sith, either!”
“I know!”  Luke said, putting his hands up defensively.  “There are more users of the Force than the Jedi and Sith.  Tell me, Kho, where are you from?”
“Thrantin”
“Aaah.”  Luke says, his face relaxing into a smile.  “You are one of the Elethu, then, correct?”
Kho nods.  Luke turns to me.
“The Elethu use the Force, though they don’t call it that.  But they are very powerful with it.”

The silence is broken only by the sound of Luke taking another sip of tea.  Finally he says, gesturing between us, “Has this never come up?”
I look at Kho.  I feel him reach into me, sensing what I am going to say.  He nods, encouragingly. “Kho can feel my feelings, and sometimes seems to even read my mind.  I can feel when he has, uh, entered me.  When he’s inside he can calm me down," I turn back to him, squeezing his hand "although, I have recently asked him to stop doing that without my permission.”
Luke nods, saying “The Force is a pathway to many powers, not just fighting.  Kho is adept at what we call Force Persuasion.  He can not only sense what someone is feeling, but cause a person to feel a certain way,” Luke stands, as do we.  Luke extends his hand to Kho as he struggles to get up.  “If you were much younger, I would offer to train you.  But you are far too old, and I sense you are happy with things as they are anyway.  But your son,” and now he turns to address us both, “he can be trained to have powers beyond your imagination.  Please, lend him to the New Republic.  Help us against the First Order, which so wronged you.  Through training, your son may help prevent others from losing their children in the future.

“You will have contact with him while he’s at the academy, and he will periodically return.  When he achieves the highest level we can train him, we will release him from our strict regiment, and he will return home.  He will be our student for a time.  He will always be your son.”

Kho and I look at each other.  We had always talked about giving our children to the future.  We don’t need Force Persuasion to come to an agreement.

8

These are the holograms we receive from Adar’s time with Luke.

Hi mom, hi dad.  Jedi Academy is great.  I’ve already made a few friends – like  Jaison and Jayde.  They’re twins.  Have you ever met anyone who were twins before?  I miss you both.

A lot of what we do is kinda boring.  We’re all given plants to care for.  Our meals are also boring – warm beans and a few spices.  Master Skywalker says our strength must come from within.  But how can we be strong if we are hungry?

Oh, you’ll like this mom - we have to keep our areas very clean.  He comes into our rooms unannounced to make random checks.  I am happy to report I now can make my bed on my own.  Though what that has to do with peace and justice, I don’t know.

OK, bedtime.  Tomorrow Master Skywalker says we are learning how to jump.   I think I misheard him.  Everyone knows how to jump.  I hope you both are doing well.  I love you.

______________________________________________________________

Dear mom and dad,

            I don’t think I like it here.  Master Skywalker says a Jedi’s strength comes from the Force, and that every accomplishment of ours is really the Force’s work.  We’re supposed to sit and feel and follow.  Being a Jedi is way more boring than I ever expected.  But when I brought it up to him, Master Skywalker said I must learn patience.

            OK, time for another lesson in sitting still for hours.  Love you both.

______________________________________________________________

Guess what!  I won the combat tournament!!  Here, look at this holo-certificate?  Can you see it?  Well, I’ll bring it home next holiday for you to keep.

            First, I faced Ben Solo.  I told you about him before – His father flew the Millennium Falcon!  Like the stuffed toy I used to sleep with.  First I swung my sword – it was just a stick, don’t worry - like this, and then this, and then Ben swung his sword like that, and I jumped over him and landed a hit on the back of his knee.  Remember when I was younger and I laughed about learning how to jump?  Who knew how useful that would be!

            Even though he is his uncle, Master Skywalker is as hard on Ben as the rest of us.  Ben works very hard, but he thinks it is difficult to have such a famous family.  What a spoiled view.  I wish our family was famous, don’t you?

What?  Oh, be right there!

Sorry, that was Kate.  It’s time for dinner.   I’ll tell you the rest of the tournament another time, I guess.  Oh, remember, it’s my birthday soon.  Can you please include some of those Seeg sweets?  Especially the purple ones.  Thanks!

______________________________________________________________

Hey there,

            We’ve started discussing the role of the Jedi in the new Republic.  Master Skywalker doesn’t want to re-establish the Jedi council like in the old days.  The Republic should be able to keep the peace on their own.

              Part of the issue, he says, is that the Jedi focused on peace, but not on conflict resolution.  He thinks the Jedi now should focus on truth and harmony, which he differentiates from any political concept of peace.  Some conflicts are useful, he says.  The Jedi cannot possibly be right all the time.  I agree with that.  Being right all the time is a Sith thing.  A true Jedi should be able to admit when they’re wrong.

            Master Skywalker told us a story of when he was younger, with his master Obi-Wan Kenobi.  They were trying to return two important droids to the Rebellion.  They ran into some Imperial Stormtroopers, who saw the droids.  Master Kenobi used Force Persuasion to make them think they were different droids.  Master Skywalker says at the time he was awed by this display of power, but now he isn’t so sure it was the right thing to do.  The Stormtroopers were just doing their job.  Did he deserve to have his mind toyed with – that’s Master Skywalker’s word?

             Anyway, we now think Force Persuasion is actually a Sith power, since it deprives someone of self-control.  Academically, it would have been more right for Kenobi to Force Push a sandstorm up or something to distract them.

            OK, that’s it.  Bye.

______________________________________________________________

Dear mom and dad,

            Master Skywalker says I am almost beyond his ability to train.  What great news I will soon be able to return home for good!  The plan is I will build a Jedi Temple back home and teach the ways of the Force to everyone who comes.  I think opening up a basic understanding of the Force to everyone will be good.  It will also help demystify the Jedi.  Imagine if everyone learned the principles of balance, inner strength, and feeling the Force.  It could change the whole Galaxy!

            Ben and I had a great conversation yesterday. He agrees it’s important that the Galaxy change.  He not only opposes calling the government “the New Republic,” since it will remind people of the old, but he also thinks we shouldn’t call ourselves Jedi, either.  When I disagreed, he said I was holding on to a dying past.  Maybe he’s right.

I think I now understand his issue with his famous family.  He will always be Ben Solo, son of Rebellion heroes.  The expectation weighs on him.  I hope he finds a way to make his own path.

See you soon, love you!

9

Those holograms are all we have left of him now.  I keep them in a dresser.  I keep them in a suitcase.  I sometimes put one back in the packaging and put it in our mailbox, so I can find it later and pretend he’s still alive.  I keep them in the kitchen.  I keep them in my purse.  I don’t know what to do with them, but doing nothing is impossible.  I keep them under the pillow when I sleep.

Kho has not started speaking again.  We had been out in the water, sailing.  It was lovely – if anything was ever lovely.  I don’t know anymore – and we were laughing.  Everything seemed so good.

I hadn’t been on the water since I was a little girl, and Kho had never.  Why float when you can fly?  Because the water has moods the air does not.  It is satisfying, when life is good, to surrender oneself to nature.  The water rocked us, and we made love to its rhythm.  It was one of the best days of our life together.

But suddenly he collapsed.  He laid there for a moment, and I thought maybe something was wrong with his leg.  I helped him up.  When he stood, his dark eyes were different.  Hollow.  He said nothing, but I knew he wasn’t feeling well.  Seasick?  I had heard of it.  I turned the little ship around, and we went home.

He didn’t speak that day.

He didn’t speak that week.

When Chancellor Calrissian contacted us personally to tell us about the death of our son at the hand of an angry classmate, he didn’t speak.  I wept, and he held me, but said nothing.

When the massacre at the academy was announced across the Galaxy he still would not speak.  I didn’t even feel him reach out to me, even after I asked him.  My husband has become like the stone he always wanted to be.

But I cannot.  I wake, I make us breakfast, I go out to the city plaza.  But life has lost its color.  Sometimes I can convince him to walk with me, but other times it is all I could do to get him to eat what I make.

I make friends in the tea-houses.  Hearing about their smaller troubles comforts me.  The world goes on, of course.  When the academy comes up the conversation becomes pitiful glances and quiet apologies to their tea.  As if I don’t have enough silence in my life.

Seven weeks go by and still Kho will not speak.  I have given up talking to him because I couldn’t help but feel I was lecturing him.  Sometimes I go to the cantina in the evening just for the noise.  People talking, laughing, joking, planning.  But then I come home and find I have left one of Adar’s holograms in our mailbox.  I watch it again.  I find I miss his voice most of all.  Such an eager boy.  I reach out as the message ends, and the image disappears before my cracking hands.

Defeated by the grief once again, I crawl into bed next to Kho, tucking the disc under my pillow.  The only time I feel at peace is when we are both sleeping.  He still holds me.  But we can’t sleep forever.

10

Notali had been taken away so young that it was easier to let her go.  Memories fade, but these holograms do not.  That my wife insists on bringing them around wherever she goes, of leaving them around the house; it makes the pain unavoidable.  How can anyone move on?

When Adar died, I felt something die in me.  I know when Dorchas heard about his death she felt the same way, but I felt it at the very moment of his death.  It had been a good day on the water.  How could I ruin it for her?  I should have told her.  But I chose instead to be strong and bear the burden on my own.

Two months go by.  I have said nothing.  How can I apologize at this point?  There’s so much I have done wrong.  How can she forgive me?  I should leave.  But how can I abandon her?  What if I never speak again?  At night I reach out to her; I miss her presence.  But when I wake, I am ashamed.  His voice echoes inside me: Force Persuasion is actually a Sith power.  There’s so much I have done wrong.  How can I apologize at this point?

She is screaming at me.  “We have lost both of our children!”  Tears running down her wrinkling cheeks, “And now I am losing you!”  She leans on the table, breathing heavily.  She looks up, brown eyes shining with tears.  “And if you are not careful,” she whispers harshly, “you will lose me.”

If she only knew what I’d taken upon myself.  But how can I tell her delicately?  Whatever I say will seem like a threat, or a cry for help.  Be as the stone sign.  But as I am, I am no help to anyone.

Another week.  The stew she makes me spills slightly as she drops it on the table before leaving again for the evening.  She doesn’t want to be with me.  We hardly make eye contact any more.  I understand why.  Adar was growing to look like me.  The holograms show this.  He was even growing a mustache like mine.  How can she look at me and not miss him?  I hope to fall asleep before she comes home, so I don’t have to hear his voice from the other room.

One afternoon I hear her come in.  Her steps toward our bedroom are different – quicker paced.  “Kho-Siab,” she says.  I look up from my console.  The lines around her eyes frame a determined look.  Her voice is tense, as if giving a practiced speech.  “Many years ago we pledged ourselves to each other.  I have kept my pledge, but you seem to have given up.”  She pauses, and I find what she says cuts me deeply.  But what can I say?  She continues, her gaze looking through me rather than at me, “I am carrying the burden of this marriage.  I cook, I clean, I go out and make friends, and what are you doing?  You remain here and you are sad.  But I am sad, too.  It feels like,” her voice falters, and she takes a breath to steady herself, “It feels like you are more pledged to your sadness than to me.  And if that is the case,” she pauses, focusing her eyes on mine.  “If you are no longer pledged to me, alone, then I must leave.”

Realization engulfs me.  Though I carried a great burden, I was blinded to hers – and worse, I added to it.  Though the death of our son is a great tragedy, it is not mine alone.  It is ours.

I stand up straight, “You are right.  Please, forgive me.”

11

I cannot forgive him.  When he explains what he has done, I am even angrier than before.  He knew.  He knew!  He knew and he did not tell me.  Rather than trust me, he held onto the tragedy so tightly it began to become his whole being!  What had been our tragedy he had taken for himself.  Selfish, selfish, selfish!

            I tell him so.  We argue.  When we are exhausted, we talk.  As we talk, we remember better days.  They overwhelm him, as emotions always have.

But this time is different.  He does not withdraw.  Nor does he reach out to me.  Adar’s words had struck him hard.  This time he lets me teach him how to manage emotions without his mask.  Fear and anger are not to be buried down deep, but to be confronted and released.  “People without the Force have been doing this for eons,” I tell him. “It is the only way forward.”

I put the holograms away in a closet, in data album with Adar’s name on it.

12

As the conflict heats up between the Republic and the First Order we find ourselves numb.  Which side could we possibly prefer?  We wish only to live out the rest of our days in peace.

We go to Kerensik, an ice planet part of the Boton Enclave, an independent federation.  We join a local ice bowling league, and go to the tauntaun races when we have a chance.  Dorchas relishes in the fashion on display there.  For her birthday I plan to buy her a wide-brimmed orange hat.  It’s her favorite color, and will make a statement against the white and blue landscape of the outdoor racetrack.

We try to have another child, but without success.  I tell Dorchas this makes me sad and angry.  She says she feels the same way, and together we are able to confront these emotions.  They remain with me, but become tame.  Though they rise up again from time to time, I can always master them.  I have cast my stone face aside for a clay one.

One day, there is an attack.  Sitting in our apartment reading, I sense it moments before the alarms go off.  How come I hadn’t sensed an attack on Xa Fel, all those years ago…

Dorchas comes from the bedroom, hopping to put on her other shoe.  I retrieve our emergency bags from the closet.  Dorchas reaches up to take our Rwuil as she opens the door to the hallway.  People are scrambling through, running and pushing.  Emergency drills can only prepare people so much.

Dorchas snaps into action.  She hands me the Rwuil and shoves her way towards the stairs.  She begins directing the people down in an orderly fashion.  Her firm, strong voice returning calm to our neighbors.  She is a sight to behold: A true stone sign amidst the chaos.

When the hallway is empty, she comes back and takes my hand.  She walks at a pace my leg can handle.  But when we enter the stairwell, something pulls me up.  May the Force be with you, and may you trust it’s flow.  I stop and she turns to me.  “What’s wrong?”

I look down at the Rwuil.  At the time, those had just been words of ritual.  I had hardly known what the Force was, though I’d been using it all my life.  I look at Dorchas, tilt my head upward, and say, “We must trust the Force’s flow.”  She nods.  Everyone in our building is younger than us, and have families of their own to look after.  They have fuller lives ahead of them.  The Force is like a great hand, I remember Adar saying in one of his messages, assembling a jigsaw puzzle.  It pulls us to where we fit.  Trust the Force’s flow.

From the roof we see black and red gunships fly down through the atmosphere.  I feel their descent.  There is a warmth to the inevitability.  Dorchas sidles up next to me, her ear brushing my shoulder.  I drape the blue Rwuil around us as one ship lands on the roof.

The boarding ramp flips down.  Stormtroopers come out and train their guns on us.  One less gunship to fire on the civilians.  Dorchas squeezes my hand and asks for me to reach out to her, “One more time, before it’s all over.”.  I go in, expecting to find panic that needs soothing.  Panic under her mask.  But there is none; she is calmer than I.

An officer comes down the ramp.  Though walking with military distinction, there is clearly a hurry to her step.  With a bark at the Stormtroopers, they lower their weapons.  She gingerly walks off the platform and onto the roof.

Those eyes Dorchas thinks.  I see them, too.

13

How we were reunited, Force knows.  But Notali, CH-1818, had found us.

She said she’d had this intuition for as long as she could remember.  An intuition that had helped her sense what people wanted from her, and alerted her to danger before it happened.  Through it she was able to rise through the ranks of the First Order and avoid betrayal from jealous superiors.  Now, instead of being a Stormtrooper, she commands them.

Though she didn’t remember us, she knew us.  Our faces had haunted her for years.  Images in dreams.  Flits in the distance.  Glitches on walls.  She had assumed we were only phantoms of her mind – until she found us.

When the First Order attacked Kerensik, she had gone down with all the other gunships.  But suddenly her intuition acted up.  But instead of danger, it told her of peace.  She followed it all the way down to the roof, and when she saw us from the viewport, those faces suddenly made sense.  When we came face-to-face she saw her nose in Kho’s, and when I gasped she recognized her own voice.  All First Order Stormtroopers are taken from their families.  None dare hope for reunion.

A picture of First Order professionalism, she ordered our arrest for interrogation.  Only in the gunship’s torture room, over the sound of those heinous devices, could we talk openly.  We told her her true name.  She promised to bring us home with her.

And now we live together in her apartment on Starkiller Base.  That an officer may continue to live with their parents is unusual, but plausible.  In fact, I have been told that anyone rising from being a Stormtrooper to an officer is quite rare.  I am grateful to the First Order for giving our daughter the opportunity to make her own future.

We hang our freshly re-dyed Rwuil above the door, fringes newly bound tight.  I get a job running emergency drills for the staff.  Kho works in espionage.  Like Notali, he hides his Force powers, using them to discover Republic sympathizers with astonishing ease.  He rises quickly through the department.  He is so successful his boss pulls a few strings to let him skip the waiting line for bacta treatment.  The First Order takes care of their own.

Soon after, we are able to go on long family walks in the snowy forests.  I love feeling Kho’s rough skin as we link fingers in one hand, and Notali’s smooth skin as I hold hers.  She tells us about the different planets she’s been stationed on.  We tell her about where we’ve lived.  She tells us about her plans for the future, and helps us develop our own.  We talk about everything, even what happened to Adar.  And between conversations, when the silence stretches too long, Kho and I hum the lullabies we used to sing her.  She’s remembering them, slowly, and joins in when she can.  She will teach them to her own children, when the time comes.  Until then, this happiness is enough.

Copyright ©️ 2020 Maslow Stories

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I consider this story still a draft. I edit it occasionally. If you have any feedback for me, I'd love to hear it! Email me at armaslow@gmail.com. Please put "Star Wars Stories" in the subject line. Thank you!