Broken Codes

Connections

Corellia: 18 BBY
Clan Covert
Nakoa Sen

    Nakoa stood behind the row of foundlings, watching them practice shooting at targets. Ketei had asked him to oversee this session. Usually she did, but today, she was out running some sort of errand.

    Most of the foundlings had good aim, despite not having used blasters very often. This particular group was aged from ten to twelve. The young boy that they had found on Batuu only a few days before was in the group.

    "Let's try it one handed now," Nakoa called. The foundlings immediately dropped one hand and carried on. Nakoa spied one of the smaller girls struggling to keep her blaster from shaking.

    He crossed over to her and knelt down. Nakoa pushed her arm up and moved her hand into a different position on the blaster handle. "It's heavy," Tilla said, seemingly embarrassed.

    "It is," Nakoa said with a nod. "It will take time for your muscles to strengthen. You're not used to holding blasters like this."

    He stepped back and let her take a few practice shots. She straightened and continued to fire. The young boy, Drystan, stopped firing with a sigh. "Why do we have to do it this way? Everyone knows it's better to keep two hands on a blaster."

    Nakoa frowned, watching him. Drystan seemed to be having the hardest time adjusting to life in the covert. He couldn't blame him. It had been hard for him too. "It depends what type of blaster you're using and the situation you're in. If you're on the run and your friend falls, you'd need a hand to help them up and use your blaster with the other."

    "Or you could just let them handle themselves," Drystan retorted.

    "That's not how we do things. We take care of our own." Nakoa sighed and pointed to the blaster rack. "We're done for today." The foundlings returned their blasters and filed out of the room. Nakoa put a hand on Drystan's shoulder, stopping him.

    "What?" Drystan snapped.

    "It doesn't seem like you want to be here."

    "I don't! I hate all these rules. I hate having to wear this dumb helmet and this stupid armor." Drystan tugged the helmet off and threw it at the ground. "I hate not having time to myself. I hate being told what to do. The only reason I came along was because of my sister and the others."

    "It takes time to get used to it all," Nakoa replied. "It was the same for me."

    "I doubt that. You're Ketei's son. You got whatever you wanted." Drystan turned away. "You're lucky to still have a mother."

    "Ketei isn't my mother. My parents were killed when I was four. She raised me, it's true, and I love and respect her." Drystan glanced at him. "But I definitely didn't get whatever I wanted. I did exactly what you've been doing since you got here."

    Nakoa started picking up the targets and stacking them on a shelf. To his surprise, Drystan followed him. "Do you like it here?"

    "Well enough."

    "I don't think I do." Drystan looked down, rather guiltily. "I miss Batuu. Everything is so gray and wet here."

    "Corellia can be a dismal place," Nakoa agreed. "I didn't want to stay here all the time. That's why I became a wanderer when I was old enough."

    "What's that?"

    "It's just what we call clanmates like me and Oni. We wander throughout the galaxy looking for jobs, new foundlings, and such. Whatever money we make comes back to the Clan."