Episode X Dark Hunter

As They Fall Asleep

And so we finally return to Geonosis; that lifeless desert planet, though not so lifeless now. Eskrats, and shadowmoths, and our travelers, and maybe a few spirits could claim the planet as their home. It was not their native soil, but rarely do any of us call our native soil home; the path of these lives seldom following an expected road since these stories are never written by the characters themselves. The eskrats simply hid in a sack of quinto grain ages ago, looking only for food and a safe place to bear their young; a sack that was packed onto a ship and transported lightyears away. The shadowmoths only sought to be close to the faint dome lights of a ship, the only light on a dark night long ago and far away, and found themselves closed in until a brighter light appeared; another home, another place.

Thus it was with our heroine. She left this planet, lonely and seeking a ship; but more than a ship. She sought freedom; freedom from pain and heartache, memories, and hope. What she found was not what she expected. It was the same thing Boba had found; the same thing Terrah had found. It is the same thing if we allow it, we all will find. For we all at some point find ourselves trapped, beyond hope, closed in, and helpless. There we lie, looking, as if from afar, on our helpless and hopeless bodies, shivering and suffocating, but then, by grace, we lift our head, and see the door open, the light flood in, the hope of something new, something unexpected, and maybe if we would allow it, something that seems like the hope we so foolishly ran from.

Donal supported Videsse, his arm wrapped around her waist, and her arm over his shoulder as they walked down the ramp of Slave-1 inside Videsse's vast Eyrie. 
He had parked Slave-1 next to the Falcon just beside a large living area where a few benches sat angled toward a carbonite cast hung on the wall.

"I'm not feelin' so good, again," Videsse admitted.

"Yeah, you're going to be on wavy ride for a week or so, Dess," Donal replied. "But we'll get you through it. Though, you aren't going to like it."

"Whatever," she said. "Like I like anything?"

Donal smiled, knowing the façade. He helped her to a bench near the living quarters of the Eyrie.

Cam and PZ-85 followed behind with hover crates as they unloaded Slave-1.

Videsse leaned back on the bench and took a deep breath, then rubbed her temples and closed her eyes.

"We lost my ship," she growled. "And my armor."

Donal nodded. "Yes, we did." He sat next to her and patted her knee. "Yup, some things were lost. They always are."

Videsse, still rubbing her temples and her eyes still closed, thought hard for a moment. She sat next to a coward, that somehow had come through for her. A broken droid, stuttering, and limping, with a mangled arm, and yet a deadly droid when needed. PZ-85 helped an unwanted slave child; a child that managed to open his mouth and steal at every wrong moment, and somehow at the same time, every right moment as well. Among them Videsse sat, a woman that thought she needed no one, yet needed them all; a woman that in one moment rashly runs headfirst into the fray, and in another runs away from what she really needs. Videsse thought about these things and opened her eyes. Before her hung the carbonite cast of the Keeper, her kidnapper, and in his hands, an assassin droid's head, her pursuer. Her life was on the edge of a knife back then, and so it was here.

Videsse laughed at herself, much louder than was expected.

Donal looked at her confusedly at the unexpected sound. Cam and PZ-85 stopped and turned as well as if something impossible had just occurred; as if a starbird had suddenly streaked through the Eyrie just long enough for each of them to question whether their eyes and ears were deceiving them. If any of them were to share what they witnessed at that moment, an outsider may have just explained it away as fanciful mythology.

Videsse sat up and turned to look at the repaired and fully functioning Millenium Falcon, a ship that had slept for too long, with no crew to fly it.

"Donal," she questioned, not moving her gaze from the Falcon. "You gonna go back to Nar Shaddaa?"

"Can't see a reason to," he answered and scratched the back of his neck, still trying to make sense of Videsse's laugh. "Everything of mine there is gone."

Videsse nodded and spun around in her seat. She looked at each one of them, paused, and finally said, "Then I think the Falcon may have a crew again. If y'all are up for it, that is."

***

So, here is the end of our heroine's story, at least as much of it that I have taken upon myself to narrate. An endeavor, that for the love of our heroine, I have labored to tell. And although there is more to her life, and more to tell of her future, I must resist for my own time is short.

How it is that for this short while, you have been able and willing to listen to these words, I do not myself understand, and yet, I will no longer tempt the fates detailing anything further. For I am sure you would not care to know about how our heroine had, by her actions in this story, influenced the political climate of the galaxy. Let another historian tell you the story of how the unrest on Nar Shaddaa that was caused by the death of Felga the Hutt led to the Senate's establishment of a military state over the Mid Rim to maintain order. Yes, let someone else tell of how the Jedi monks became aware of the burgeoning Arkanian Navy because Ben Solo had followed Videsse, and so witnessed its production; how the Jedi Council and the Senate then increased sanctions on Arkania, which shortly afterward led to the cessation of Arkania from the Galactic Senate. How many of the Mid Rim systems followed; systems that were already incensed over Senate military oversight. No, let not I, tell you that story. It is not for me to tell. I will gladly leave that for another more apt narrator to tell, perhaps even one from beyond the grave.

And speaking of the grave, let us remove ourselves from Videsse's Eyrie for one more time, and fly through the waning orange haze of Geonosis's evening twilight, letting the canyon move past us swiftly like a spinning ball, so that we can find our feet again in another large valley, Videsse's destroyed hut somewhere behind us, and the cliff's face dark and looming before us. Let us, here and now, pay our last respects for the dead before leaving this planet to return home. For somehow, though their bodies have laid here under their barrows this entire time, it is hard not to believe, that somehow beyond our own limited senses, something, some unknown power, some influence, or some presence was at work, maybe even only at one moment. And still, if Videsse were here to speak the words, "Thank you," would the spirits really hear? Or would we just convince ourselves they did, and satisfy that unnatural and somehow natural longing to say goodbye to deaf ears?

Either way, here we stand in the orange glow of the timeless rings, two mounds before us, and two helmets turned slightly toward each other. They look tired and worn, and maybe they rock a little as if catching their breath.

Let us take this moment to speak the words we want them to hear. Someday, not too long from now, Videsse will do the same.

The wind tonight is gentle, and only disturbs small puffs of dust on the surface, just like this breeze right now, that caresses our backs and blows a delicate sheet over the graves, like two warriors returning from battle, finally laying down on their beds, and covering themselves one more time as they fall asleep.

A/N: Thank you for reading! My hope is that it was not just a good read, but a meaningful one. And so we part our ways here. May your journey lead you to hope; a hope we all seek but very few recognize. May God bless you in your walk through the desert valley of that dying planet, hopefully to green pastures and still waters; where the wind is at your back, and the road rises to meet you; where the rains fall on your fields and the light of the eternal Geonosis rings illuminates even the darkest night.

Next week I'll upload one last epilogue to tie up a loose end.