Home Away From Home
Briana Sal-Soren
Location: Mirogana, Toshara
Even on Toshara, where newsfeeds from the Core came reluctant and sporadic, the fuzzy terminals that hung overhead throughout Mirogana’s amberine halls were all broadcasting the same report: the Empire was back, and it had crushed the Alliance on Coruscant. The New Jedi were all but disbanded and the GADF was on the back foot, forced to retreat from the galactic center presumably to Fondor—though this time, it was a permanent move. Coruscant belonged to the Empire now.
Cailen sighed, keeping his eyes low as he ate the last of his food. He didn’t want to seem overly concerned with the state of things or risk someone local discovering he was a rogue Jedi. Toshara was a Republic world and a Trade League bastion—two factors that made the moon far safer for Jedi than other places—but there was still that unshakable stigma that spacers seemed to hold onto about space wizards and their religion. Considering it was those very same spacers and smugglers who Cailen had come to rely on for work, it was in his best interest to keep the facade: he was a hyperspace traveler like the rest of them, loyal to a hot meal and his ship before any government or temple.
He scooped a final spoonful of sosheen into his mouth and dropped a few talons on the countertop. Still chewing and with only a small nod serving as his farewell, Cailen rose to his feet and left the Hot Pot eatery. The mottled sounds of Huttese, Basic, and Droidspeak filled the air that moved slowly through Mirogana’s Market District. Old Imperial ventilation fans struggled to keep up with the claustrophobic city, but the smell of street food and fine dried herbs masked the earthiness of the amberine from which the halls were carved.
The young Jedi forced images of Coruscant into the back of his mind as he walked. His hood was drawn and what little Force signature he had was muted. The tiny apartment he was renting wasn’t far from the Market District, but it did lay within Pyke territory—a contested neighborhood bathed in green neon light where Black Sun operatives worked in the shadows to push the Pykes out.
As he neared the threshold between districts, Cailen cast a cautionary glance over his shoulder. It was in that split second motion that he walked into someone. The boy winced, expecting to find an angry enforcer looming over him. If they were with Black Sun, he might get away with a debt to repay; the Pykes were fond of simply beating transgressors. But the person was neither, judging by her attire and decided lack of furrowed eyebrows. Cailen’s mouth moved to utter an apology, but instead, a name came out.
“Briana?” he asked, his voice low but still surprised. What was she doing here? Was she… looking for him?
It’d been months since Cailen abandoned the NJO with little more than a note left on a datapad that simply read:
“Gone. Please don't follow me.” –Cai
He assumed the lack of ghosts from his past as an NJO Padawan meant that the Order was either too busy to notice he was gone, or too apathetic to hunt him down. Not even his apprenticeship to the Grandmaster seems to have hastened a search. Cailen didn’t want to complain about the loneliness; after all, he’d asked for them to stay away. He’d almost forgotten them, too, until now.
His eyes locked with Briana’s, steeled by quiet dissent. “I’m not going back,” he said bitterly. He didn’t say where to—she would know.
Back to Coruscant. To the Order. To Valery.
He was done with them all, and he didn’t care if the Jedi Knight before him was one of Master Noble’s star pupils. It wouldn’t win him back.