Allegory 2

By this point in my career, nearby vehicular explosions almost evoked a sort of nostalgic amusement for me. As I lie on my back, wincing and waiting for my blurred vision to correct itself, I gritted my teeth at the attempt to enumerate the times this had happened to me.

I rolled over and sat halfway up to assess the wanton destruction. I was lying on top of the depot’s obliterated service ramp, fairly satisfied with the results of the skirmish. All I took from it was bump on the head and a grazed thigh. I chuckled in spite of myself and reached for my lightsaber, which had landed only meters away, along with pile of permacrete chunks the size of my torso.

I was in the clear for the time being; the only sentient within ten clicks was my former comrade, who now stood on the ground below, maintaining Jedi grace with his arms at his side. There was a large burn mark on the left side of his civilian tunic, but other than that he looked as though he hadn’t just been involved in a four-speeder-and-AT-RT pile-up.

I clipped my lightsaber to my belt and leapt down to the ground level, not to confront him but to find my first aid kit. He looked me over with incredulity.

“By the Force! You were the one on that swoop?”

I merely grunted in confirmation, indifferently scouring the ground until I found what I needed.

“How long has it been?”

I smiled distantly. “Since about a month before the dark times began. Two standard years.”

For those who escaped the betrayal of their clone troopers, it had indeed been a hard run. For two years, it was a matter of eluding the Empire and the Emperor’s lap dog, Darth Vader. Escape the clones only to be hunted by a Sith Lord and a fleet of star destroyers for the rest of your life. Fake your death, forsake your former life, toss your lightsaber and robes, and eke out a new living on the seediest worlds, shutting yourself down to the Force but trying to stick to the essence of the Jedi creed. Serve the Force in the minutest way possible. That was the only way to be a Jedi since the Clone Wars had ended. The emperor had effectively snuffed the light of the Jedi out of the galaxy forever.

I had to handed to the emperor, though: what more brilliant way to exterminate the Jedi than to orchestrate a galactic-scale war in which each Jedi was isolated from his peers and surrounded by clones programmed to turn on them on cue? I couldn’t prove it, of course. I couldn’t prove Darth Sidious and Emperor Palpatine were the same person, but after everything I learned on my vigilante missions, I had my suspicions. The only thing that didn’t add up was the presence and identity of Darth Vader.

Not that the galaxy cared, so long as there was order. Precious order.

Having caught on to my sour attitude, he changed his demeanor to one of bemusement. “Nice to see you’re still alive and still doing your thing,” he continued as I administered a bacta patch to my thigh. “New lightsaber? Where’d you get the yellow focus crystal?”

“Long story. Why don’t you stick around? I’m sure the Empire would love to come here and tell you all about it.”

He was taken aback. I finally locked eyes with him as a meager peace offering. “Yeah, I’m alive. Fortunately for me, as destiny would have it, I was on a mission in the Outer Rim when the Purge began. Made it a little easier to escape. About as easy as giving a rabid gundark a kriffing shoulder rub.”

The glint of camaraderie returned to his eyes, although I still felt the faintest flicker of surprise in the Force at my use of profanity. “You might want to get rid of the lightsaber, nonetheless.”

“Nah. I’m not exactly worried about keeping a low profile here.”

I stood tall, testing the field dressing on my leg. It was fine. “You wouldn’t happen to have any bacta or synthflesh patches on you, would you? I’m getting low on supplies.”

“Can’t say I do.”

“Guess I’ll have to start ambushing supply transports then.”

“Well, you could come back with me. We can hide you for a while. I could even get you the supplies you need to send you on your way. Or you could join us for the long term.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “And who might ‘we’ be?”

He smiled. That same, reassuring smile he used to flash for the younglings when they got lost in the Jedi Archives. “I’ll show you the others. Two years ago, I rescued two Padawans who were too inexperienced and weak to be very high on Vader’s list of priorities. We’ve made a pretty humble living running a tailor shop on—”

“I work alone,” I grunted, making my voice as harsh and gravelly as possible. I slung the bag over my shoulder and started to walk away from the smoldering debris and my old friend. “I will continue to be a thorn in the Empire’s side in whatever way I can.”

“So that’s it?” He raised his voice after me, but didn’t move a centimeter. “Are you going to change the galaxy by yourself? One Jedi can’t defy the Empire! Even the Outer Rim isn’t a safe place for a Jedi to run around anymore. Frankly, I’m amazed you’ve lasted this long!”

His tone softened, imploring me. “Sooner or later, you’ll be caught. Your personal rebellion will be over, and you will have done no one any good. At least with us, you can hold on to the Jedi ideals.”

I stopped in my tracks and looked hard at the ground. I heaved a sigh, but I didn’t turn around to face him. “I’m not a Jedi anymore. Didn’t you hear? The Jedi are extinct.”

Although I didn’t get a last glimpse of him, I could perfectly visualize his expression to match the stunned disbelief he emanated in the Force as I walked away.

Old alliances are overrated anyway.