CAMPFIRE CHATS
TYTHON
AKAR KESH - COURTYARD
The fire burned low. Caltin’s eyes were fixed not on the flames, but somewhere far behind them — into a memory older than the scars on his hands. He listened to the tale about Chodo Habat, one he knew, he listened to the tale Reina masked into a fable.
But no one else?
alright…
He spoke slowly. Not for dramatic effect — but because the words had to be measured. These weren’t stories. These were
wounds.
I was nine when I met them. My parents. He didn’t look up, but let the words hang for a moment.
You see, unlike now, back when I was your age, things were “different”. You were found, soon after birth, and though the parents were allowed the choice whether to let you go, you were taken then. Not now. I was no different. The Jedi found me early. I was trained from the time I could hold a training saber. And like so many others, I was told not to look back. Family was a shadow we were taught to step past. Though there was a hint of bitterness in his voice, it was really a tale more of reality and acceptance than anything.
... then one day, they came to Coruscant. A visitation, rare, sanctioned. My birth records had survived, and the Council approved a meeting. I remember... I was afraid. Not of them. Afraid that seeing them would make me weak. He took a bite of his burger.
... they weren’t what I expected. No tears. No regret. Just warmth. My mother had a voice like soft rain. My father — he had these calloused hands, worn down from years piloting haulers, but when he touched my shoulder, it felt like the safest place in the galaxy. They owned a successful Merchant Shipping company… but they were very “homey”.
A rare smile crawled across his lips. Not one of an elder, or one reassuring another, but recollection of a good memory.
I wanted to stay. To talk. To ask questions I’d never dared ask. Yet before I could…the security forces came.
He took another bite of his burger to curb the emotion.
I watched them dragged away in binders — accused of some trumped up charges, but in reality they argued that this was resisting seizure of their shipping company. The Empire not yet a reality… but there were murmurs had only just formed. Their company was being nationalized, swallowed into the new machine.
Shaking his head, as if in embarrassment.
I started forward. I didn’t even think. My lightsaber was half-raised—But my father… His voice caught, just slightly.
He looked right at me… and he shook his head.
Letting out a deep exhale, even now the tale bothered him.
He said: ‘Caltin... I need you to promise me… always do the right thing.’
Letting the words hang for a moment and looking down as if in shame, he continued:
I watched them disappear down the corridor. I didn’t even know what that meant. Not then. Years passed. I survived the Purge. Buried too many. Fought too long and then I found them.
He shrugged.
Well, it was the squad leader of the team that arrested them in the first place. He resigned that day. They were sent to Tatooine. A dust-blasted hole in the Outer Rim. A warlord — not Sith, not Imperial. Just a would-be king in a land without crowns, he wasn’t even a Hutt. He’d built a device — something unnatural, something that severed memories and chained minds. My parents were there. Blank-eyed. Working in silence. They didn’t know me.
Then came the bitterness again.
I was in a bad place at the time. Angry, aggressive… wanting to take the fight to anyone who I thought was doing wrong. I fought my way in. Cut through his guards. Cornered him. He laughed — said if I shut the machines down, they’d die and all of the others. Said I could keep them breathing, but never get them back.
One last bite of the burger and he stood.
I looked at my mother. She was staring through me. Empty. And I knew…This wasn’t living. So I turned it off, her device, wrecked it.
A faint smile came back to his face.
She collapsed into my arms. At first, no recognition. Just confusion. Fear. And then... something came back. She recognized me, but as quickly as she did… it was as if her brain was not connected to her mouth as she was saying various words, but you knew she was meaning something else. She died in my arms right there, fearful for what was going on… but her eyes never left mine...
Then he told about doing the same to his father.
My father, he was able to piece together a few more words. Said he was actually proud of me, of who I turned into, then reached up. Shaking. His hand found my face.
Another exhale.
He whispered: ‘You did the right thing.’Then he was gone. My mother... before she passed she just smiled. Said my name. Said she loved me... and then she couldn’t speak anymore.
Caltin looked away from the fire. His jaw set. His breath steady.
I buried them in the Dune Sea. Side by side. The Order taught me to let go. But that moment? That memory? That’s not attachment. That’s a promise. One that I’ve kept every day since.
I don’t tell this story to make you feel bad, neither for yourselves, or for me, I tell you this to appreciate what you have, to appreciate those around you. Master Skywalker…Luke, he proved that our connections to each other can help us through the darkest times. It’s also important though to balance that. An old Padawan of mine one day came to me crying, said she had read up on my history, calling it “one personal hell after another” and wished she could change all of it for me…
He shook his head and sat back down.
You should look at your past the same way as well, if you take nothing out of this story than what I am about to tell you… everything that has gotten you to this point has helped shape you. I see a group of strong individuals worthy of the highest levels of respect.…and I hope you can see yourselves the same way. Your past, no matter how difficult, has molded you into the person you are today. Embrace it, learn from it, and use it to propel you forward. That’s where true strength lies.
He then smirked
”Jedi Weakness”... yeah right… now… who’s next?
