Forget Me Not

4

"Please, Master Jedi," the Gran merchant pleaded, his tatty garments wrapped tight around his bulky frame, "please bring this thief to justice!" His chunky hands were clasped as he watched Obi-Wan imploringly, brief flickers of confusion passing his face as he noted Obi-Wan's position on the ground.

Obi-Wan adjusted himself so that was facing the merchant more fully, settling his hands comfortably in his lap as he looked up at him. "How may I help, my good sir?"

"This," he paused to find the right word, his finger pointing accusatorially at me, "thing stole an entire two of my best jogan fruits! Make him pay, or throw him into the cells until he does! Only get such a vile creature out of my sight; please help me!"

I slowly turned around, holding my arm close to my chest, sitting with one leg tucked up. Running a hand along my pale blond hair, I tugged the small elastic securing the top half of my hair, but it hadn't budged during my scrapping.

All the while, I could feel Obi-Wan studying me, until eventually he commented, "Do none of these accusations concern you, San?"

I took a moment to lick my split lip. "No. I didn't steal them."

Before the Gran exploded, Obi-Wan held up his hand. "What happened, then?" At my suspicious glance, he added, "I want to know. I'm assuming your innocent unless you're proven guilty."

I tensed, instinctively crunching my right fist, struggling to suppress the distant cries.

"No, I'm innocent!" he begged. "Please, stop!"

"Firstly," I began calmly, "I don't have them, and I didn't eat them. Secondly, I held them momentarily, before giving them to the young lady who had paid for them. You probably saw them in my hand and figured I had pinched them. If you don't believe my story, ask the Gran who was manning your store before you took over from him." I looked up expectantly at the merchant, observing the fury dwindling into confusion.

"But you must have done something wrong," he blurted.

"Must I?"

"Yes! Why else would you have stayed and fought me? Obviously, your conscience – if you even have one – was seared from stealing the jogans, and your mind refused to allow you to leave until you had suffered your just due!" He was shouting now, his body shaking in rage and his fingers twitching dangerously close to the blaster stuck in his belt.

"Does it matter why I stayed?" I asked quietly, breaking eye contact.

"Don't you see, Jedi?!" the merchant shrieked, pulling his gun out and aiming it at me in trembling hands. "He won't give a reason for why he didn't run! He is only making up this story to try and win your favour. He sounds so righteous and so good, but he's just as bad as the rest of us!"

Obi-Wan was standing now, his lightsaber resting unignited in his palm. "Let's not jump to conclusions. Lower your gun."

He hesitated, the weapon wobbling in his unsteady grip. Then his eyes returned to me, and in the next blink, he had pulled the trigger.

I jerked to the side, pain restricting me from dodging fully, but in a flash of blue, the red bolt was deflected. It hit a nearby building with a hiss.

Obi-Wan stood in ready stance, his saber humming between the two of us, his gaze fixed to the merchant. "That was not your wisest move, sir. I advise you leave this young man alone and check your facts. Find the colleague to which San was referring and hear his side of the story. If it matches with San's, then leave him be. If it does not, contact the Jedi, and we will continue the investigation."

He faltered, his three eyes darting between the burning lightsaber and Obi-Wan's grim expression. He nodded, backing away and then fleeing.

The Jedi Master watched him go, then relaxed his posture, deactivating his weapon and tucking it safely beneath his robes. He turned to me, sliding his hands into his sleeves and smiling just a little. "It's nice to see your face for the first time. I'll admit, your voice made you sound older. You must be ... twenty-five or twenty-six?"