Metamorphosis, Chapter 5

The shuttle flight to Tark Mano’s was a solid three hours, low orbit, so Galo-ban decided to use the time to meditate. He had been growing more and more agitated since the holocall, and he needed to be calm and in control before his meeting with Mano.

Galo-ban chuffed at the irony. The first line of the Jedi Code was “there is no emotion, there is peace.” And yet, before the Sacking of Coruscant, before memories too painful to recall, he could barely harness the Force. If trouble arose in his meeting with Mano, and the more agitated he got, the more he felt the Force was telling him that it would, it would be his emotions that allowed him to access the Force’s strength.

Memories. Too painful to recall. Too painful to forget.

Friends. Younglings. Talia. Jade.

Metamorphosis, Chapter 4

Her master had laughed, thrown his head back and laughed, when she accidentally called the cook ‘The Blob,’ what Ciila referred to her as in her head. Stupid, stupid! Now she was definitely in for it.

“You cut it up wrong.” His eyes flickered dangerously. “Has she thrown it away yet?”

Metamorphosis, Chapter 3

Galo-ban gathered his thoughts before transmitting the holocall to Tark Mano. He had no idea what Sreya had wanted with the man, but based on some quick research, Mano was clearly a career criminal with a wealthy backer. To be honest, Galo-ban was not surprised.

Technically, the Sindara system was a member of the Republic, but this far away from the Core Worlds, small planets such as this were ripe for criminal exploitation. Spice trades, credit laundering, smuggling dens and slave rings were prevalent; even gladiatorial matches were not uncommon. Galo-ban had not committed the time to a more extensive investigation into Mano’s employer, so he didn’t know who or what his boss was, but Tark Mano himself appeared to be in charge of a small slaving ring and a smuggler’s den.

Metamorphosis, Chapter 2

“No! Idiot!” The cook rapped hard on Ciila’s hands with a metal spoon. “I told you to cut them this way! It’s ruined! Now,” the blobby old cook pinched Ciila’s ear between two spiny fingers, “You’re going to tell your master why the Jandarra ceviche he’s been craving for a week is no longer on the menu! I’m certainly not going to lose any fingers over it!”

Ciila winced, but held her tongue. She knew by now, after a week in the scullery, that trying to explain would only yield harsher punishment. The fingers of her unbruised hand curled protectively over her throbbing knuckles. “Yes Cook, I’m sorry Cook,” she whispered. Her neck was starting to ache from being held at the vicious angle Cook kept her ear.

Cook flung her toward the scullery door. It led to a hallway which ended with another door. Ciila had only ever glimpsed past this door, the living quarters for her master, Tark Mano. Surely… surely he wouldn’t cut off her fingers. Would he? It was just a silly vegetable. But the taste she’d snuck before Cook could notice was divine, the most delicate thing she’d ever tasted. …maybe he would.

Metamorphosis, Chapter 1

Galo-ban stepped off the small transport shuttle with the few other passengers stopping on this planet, and paused, letting them push past him as he gathered his surroundings. Sindara V was a small mining planet in the Outer Rim, and as such, its spaceport was bare-bones. A few sparks flew to his right as a maintenance technician welded something to a rickety power supply, and steam sprouted from a vent nearby.

Adjusting his hood, the Jedi follow the few offloading passengers towards the only marked exit, keeping an eye out for a directory console. It was not long before he came across one, evidently the only working console in the spaceport, as a long queue had formed in front of it. With a frown, Galo-ban joined the line, trying in vain to suppress a flash of impatience.