Time Heals (Completed)

[Lorca Dawnstone]

OOC: This roleplay takes place in the Coruscant lower levels. Any Jedi in hiding on Coruscant are welcome to join in.

The bombing crippled Kunga District. It happened during rush hour; the streets were alive with the buzz of old speeders, peddlers busy packing away their wares, and children coming home from school. Six buildings were immediatly leveled by the blast and collapsed on top of Lexi Market; its stalls, workers and shoppers. Huge airborn slabs of duracrete tore through the neighbouring areas bringing a further three buildings to the ground: one a nursery. It took only five minutes for the smoke and dust to reach the city surface and break the Coruscant skyline.

Seven hours had passed and casualties were still rolling into the Last Stand, a humble hostel for the sick and homeless now burried to its neck in catastrophe and death. Screens made from bedsheets were erected in doorways and halls, tell-tale red stains soiled the white cloth each time someone passed through. Behind these screens the air was hot and putrid, the walls glistening with vapour and the floor slippery with blood. Amidst the thrum of moans rang clear a cry.

"Lorca, stay where you are!" Said a flushed nurse before she disappeared behind the bedsheet curtain.

"But-"

"Listen to her, son. Sit with me." An old man said, his voice rummbled. He placed his hand upon the shoulder of the young man who had taken a seat beside him.

"You don't look well and haven't stopped once in seven hours. Relax, ma boy."

"But there are people-"

"That need your help." The old man interrupted, smiling. "There are others here to help them, too. And you are no good to either of those people exhausted."

"Grawl, I'm not exhausted."

"But you need rest, for five minutes sit and give an old man some company."

"Okay." Lorca sighed heavily and slid further into his chair. He looked across to his companion.

"You've been a great help to us here, Grawl."

"It was the least I could do, son." Grawl answered off-handedly.

"After all the things this place has done for me over the years. And my brother, bless him."

There was a silence shared between the two men, then the elder grinned, shaking with a silent chuckle.

"Do you remember how he used to-"

"Hello?" Lorca called out suddenly, leaning forward in his chair. The hanging bedsheets stirred before them, a silhouette could be seen through the white cloth, then fingers wrapped around the screen and pulled it aside. Lorca stood.

"Can I help you?"

[Kale]

A teenaged human boy was standing tentatively half in and half out of the curtain, glancing uncertainly at Lorca and his companion and the medical tools scattered around the room. He was small, no more than five two, with a mess of rusty hair, dressed in a worn, loose jacket, a grubby T-shirt, and a badly frayed pair of jeans, and looking like he wasn't altogether sure he was supposed to be there.

He cleared his throat and addressed Lorca. "I, uh... my arm's hurt. I just need it cleaned and a couple bandages. An' maybe some food. Then I'll be outta here."

He let go of the curtain and gingerly touched his right arm, which he was holding limply at his side.

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"Take a seat, friend." Lorca said, pulling his chair away from the old man. Grawl had tried to protest but Lorca had his attention now fixed on the youngster. He moved quickly from the chair to a a large open supply crate and back, now carrying an armful of equipment.

"Could you show me your arm, please?" He asked, kneeling before the boy.

[Kale]

Looked like he'd come to the right place. He settled back into the seat Lorca had vacated, dropping a backpack on the floor by his feet, and carefully shrugged off his coat. There was a strip of cloth crudely wound around his bicep under his shirt sleeve; he peeled it off to reveal a long, narrow burn scoring the side of his arm just under the shoulder. It looked like something had grazed him there, taking a layer of flesh with it.

"I was a good way from the explosion, but not far enough," the boy said. "Something got me... a piece o' hot debris, I guess. Just glad it didn't hit a couple centimeters to the left."

[Lorca Dawnstone]

Lorca wrapped his fingers gently around the boys arm and examined the wound closely. His eyes narrowed.

"That looks like quite a stinger."

He rummaged through the pile of gear and pulled out a tall cannister which he shook vigorously then removed the cap. He raised the cannister up to the wound and glanced at the his patient.

"What is your name, friend?"

[Kale]

Friend? He wasn't sure how to take that. Most people who called him friend did it because they wanted something from him.

"Name's Kale," he replied noncommittally. If Lorca wanted much more, he'd have to work for it.

Kale eyed the canister and braced for whatever unpleasant sensation was to follow. Burns were notoriously tricky to deal with, and he'd learned not to expect a good bedside manner at a free clinic.

The spray went on icy cold, then settled soothingly into his skin. Hmm. Not too bad.

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"Well, Kale, that was medical coolant I've just sprayed onto your arm. It will soothe the burning and numb the pain temporarily."

A slight hiss came from the wound, the coolant sizzled on the wound and soaked in. Lorca nodded and smiled.

"I bet that feels good."

Next, Lorca was holding a half-used tube. He unscrewed the top and squeezed a moderate dollop of white cream onto his fingers and frowned.

"This isn't exactly bacta, I'm afraid. It will prevent infection and help your arm mend quicker, though. Here we go."

He proceeded to rub the cream over the wound.

"Do you have any friends or family we could contact, Kale? And let them know where you are and that you're alright?"

[Kale]

If Lorca was hoping to build much of a doctor-patient relationship, he was going to be disappointed. Kale was content to keep quiet and let the medic do his business. He didn't really care how Lorca did it as long as he did it right, and the sooner he was done, the sooner Kale could leave.

Friends, family...

"No, I don't," he replied simply, unemotionally.

[Lorca Dawnstone]

His jaw clenched when Kale told him he didn't have any friends or family. Lorca believed him and for the first time, he found it difficult to say anything. He finished rubbing the cream into the boy's wound and put the rest of his equipment to one side.

"And finally..."

Lorca brought a reel of dressing up to Kale's arm and started unravelling it slowly around the wounded area, occassionally glancing at the boy in an attempt to catch his eye and offer him a reassuring smile. Sometimes, even the smallest of things can help.

[Kale]

Kale watched passively as Lorca cut the bandage off the spool and finished wrapping it. It felt firm and clean--much better than Kale's own slipshod attempts to treat it. Of course, at the time, he didn't have much to work with.

His upper arm was still numb and tingly, but that was an improvement over the itchy stinging of an untreated burn. He carefully flexed his arm, glancing up to the doc to make sure he wasn't messing up the bandage or anything.

"Feels good. How long 'till it heals? Do I need to wash it or somethin'?"

Clearly, Kale wasn't planning on coming back for a check-up.

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"A burn that big?" Lorca said, pleased to hear him talking more.

"I'd give it a month. And no, don't wash it. Don't touch it if you can help it. Keep the wound wrapped up well but occassionally remove the dressing to let air at it."

He stood up, dusted his hands and smiled at the boy.

"Other than that, you're pretty much in the clear now, Kale."

He paused, then added:

"Is there anything you would like me to help you with, friend?"

[Kale]

A month... perfect. Well, the instructions would be easy enough. As for the rest... it was just better Kale was on his way as soon as possible.

"Thanks," he said, grabbing his coat. "Uh... you serve food, here, right? Think I could get somethin' to go?"

It hit him, like a bank of needles pressing into the back of his neck, and he winced slightly. Something was wrong--maybe he'd better skip the complimentary lunch.

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"The kitchen usually only caters for people who are eating in but I'm sure they can make an exception. Follow me, I'll take you to-"

Lorca paused, noticing the sudden change in Kale's expression. He looked odd and a little distant.

"Kale? Is everything alright?"

He took a step forward, ready to catch the boy if he collapsed.

[Kale]

Kale rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to shake off that strange, cold prickle--oh, great. Mr. Florence Nightengale had noticed.

The boy shook his head. "Ah, no--Er, I mean, yeah, everything's fine. I get headaches sometimes. It's nothin'. Listen, thanks for all your help, I'm gonna take a look at the cafeteria, and then I'll hafta be goin'--"

He'd pulled back the curtain again just long enough to catch a glimpse of white armored suits strolling down the hall. He let the curtain go as if it'd been electrified.

Kale backed away from the screen as another armored silhouette passed, and he held his breath until the sound of combat boots on the concrete floor was out of earshot.

Wheeling toward Lorca, he hissed, "What the frell are they doin' here?"

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"I don't know." Lorca answered, already distancing himself from the white sheet. He glanced to the old man who gave him an incredulous look.

"I don't know." He said again quietly, staring at the sheet and then at Kale.

"Come with me. Quick! Grawl, could you-"

"I'll take care of them." Grawl replied, he looked to the boy.

"And you'd best be running along with him, son."

Behind another hanging bedsheet Lorca disappeared.

[Kale]

Kale almost missed which way Lorca had gone; he'd glanced back down the hall again to see if there were any more troops about. But he was quick to take the old man's suggestion. No sense pretending he didn't have anything to hide, especially if Lorca was hiding, too.

Scooping up his backpack, he ducked through the bedsheet after Lorca, trying to think inconspicuous thoughts. The corridor was crowded with orderlies and patients, but Kale knew how to track somebody through a crowd. Those skills came in handy where he came from.

A right turn took them past a few storage closets and to a back alley door. Kale leaned against a painted cinderblock wall and looked up at Lorca. "You get stormies in here often?" he asked incredulously.

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"No. Never." Said Lorca.

His attention was fixed on a large garbage disposal bin, he threw open one of the two huge lids. Then clasping his hands, he kneeled and held out his arms.

"Come on!" He whispered urgently. Nodding at his clasped hands then the bin.

"I'll help you get inside. We can hide in there."

[Kale]

Kale followed him out into the alley and watched him open the garbage bin. Then he took a step back.

He didn't mind letting Lorca patch up a wound. That's what good Samaritans like him were for. But letting him choose a hiding place for him--not only that, joining him in it... that was a bit much for Kale to take at a moment's notice.

The boy held up a hand. "Hang on, Doc. What do you mean, 'we'? I was just tryin' to avoid a headache. What are you tryin' to hide?"

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"With a blaster burn on your arm like that, I've no doubt that would be one hell of a headache you'd get from those stormtroopers." Lorca said shortly.

"And I'm not trying to hide anything... other than you. Look, I've no love for the Imperials either, okay? Now get in!"

His eyes widened and again he tilted his head in the direction of the bin.

"Quick! I think I hear them."

[Kale]

Kale flinched. Blaster burn? How'd he know?

Didn't really matter, he supposed. He'd rather have found a better hide-away than a garbage dumpster, something with more of an escape route if things went wrong. Especially because he wasn't certain the stormies were really after him.

But then, no sense in taking chances. He glanced down the alley, back at Lorca, and said, "Fine." Then, ignoring the boost Lorca had offered, he vaulted over the lip of the bin on his good arm and landed quietly inside.

[Lorca Dawnstone]

Lorca frowned and stood. He pulled down the first lid which had been hanging ominously over Kale then lifted the second of the large flaps and jumped inside, allowing the lid to slam shut above him.

Now it was entirely dark, and smelly, a very stale and thick smell of something rotten and vile wasting away beneath the bed of rubbish bags on which he sat. He heard Kale's breathing somewhere in front of him.

"We're going to have to stay as still and quiet as possible." He whispered.

"I don't know why they're here but they wont hang around in these lower regions for long."

[Kale]

Kale wrinkled his nose in the darkness. This was another reason he preferred to choose his own hiding spots.

"Aw, they're probably just checkin' on the blast site. A couple uniforms on the scene of a disaster makes good PR for the Imperials. They think it makes us think they care."

He held his injured arm very close to his body, careful not to let the bandage drag in any of the refuse they were sitting in. He gave Lorca a rude look, though he probably couldn't see it.

"I hope that disinfectant cream seals tight," he grouched.

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"You'll be fine." Lorca reassured him, impatiently.

"Besides, you come across as the type of person who knows how to survive down here..."

He hesitated, then asked the question regardless.

"Did you get that wound from a stormtrooper weapon?"

[Kale]

Wasn't much point in arguing. That didn't mean Kale had to like the situation he was in.

"An officer's pistol, I think," he said. "Should've known he was Imperial. Even smelled like an Imperial."

He trailed off, then shook his head. "It's my problem, not yours."

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"Fair enough." He whispered, nodding his head in the darkness.

"Shh!"

There was a creaking sound. The large emergency exit door had been pushed open and the sound of heavy boots trampling on the gravel in the alley could be heard.

"There! Right there!" Rasped a mechanical voice. It was a stormtrooper.

Lorca closed his eyes and exhaled quietly in preparation for the worst.

[Kale]

Kale was grateful to have cut off that line of questioning. But then the prickling returned.

He felt his heart pounding in his ears as he heard the footsteps drawing close. No escape now.

Hide. He needed to hide. But he was too scared. Every time he tried to clear his mind, fearful thoughts kept charging back in. These were Stormtroopers, for Force's sake! He'd never had Stormtroopers after him before.

"Nah, a little to the left," the mechanized voice spoke again. "That's more like it. Covers the graffiti."

Kale blinked. What the frell were they talking about out there?

[Lorca Dawnstone]

He opened his eyes and listened intently. Lorca had expected their hiding place to have been discovered and assumed he would be in shackles within moments.

Outside there was more movement; feet shifting, gravel crunching and the sound of paper being unraveled. These stormtroopers weren't looking for Kale or even himself so Lorca found himself wondering what they were doing so far below the surface.

"Alright, that's it. Let's go."

The sound of heavily armoured feet faded into the distance but for some time neither Kale or Lorca moved an inch.

[Kale]

Kale was still thinking about hiding. Not just lying low in the trash like a stupid razkat playing dead, but actually hiding--pulling that trick he'd learned a long time ago, reaching out and drawing energy around himself like a cloak to hide him from prying eyes. He might even be able to give Lorca the slip if the medic was distracted.

But that would be risky. It took concentration--more than he had to spare at the moment. And if, for any reason, Lorca should glance over and have an inkling of what he was doing....

A distant, throaty rumble cut off his train of thought. It was the sound of an armored hover-transport pulling away down the alley.

And, carefully, Kale began to breathe again.

"I think they left," he whispered. "I think the coast is clear."

Again, he thought of stretching out his senses, this time to check for sentients that might still be watching the alley. But, somehow, he didn't feel safe doing it. His neck wasn't tingling anymore--maybe that was enough.

Shifting on the bed of trash, Kale rose to his knees and gently lifted the dumpster cover overhead. He squinted through the twilight of the alley, but he couldn't see anybody.

"They're gone," he said with an air of certainty.

[Lorca Dawnstone]

Lorca was more hesitant. He didn't move at all while Kale surveyed their surroundings, his jaw was clenched and his fists were balled so tight it hurt. Slowly, he stirred. The rubbish shifted under his feet and he stood, lifting the lid up with his back as he rose.

"Certainly looks like the coast is clear. We'd best get back inside as soon as possible and stay out of sight."

Lorca jumped out of the dumpster and turned to Kale.

"Are you okay?"

[Kale]

Kale was out right behind Lorca, and he kicked his sneakers against the fractured pavement to knock off a few clingy scraps of paper. "Yeah, I'm fine. Which is more than I can say for the smell."

It wasn't the first time he'd hidden in a trash heap--but each, time, he hoped it'd be the last. He turned his head to see if there was any stuff sticking to his back.

"Let's let me pick the hideouts from now on, huh? Krasst, I hope you've got a shower in there. We didn't get caught, anyway. I just wonder what they were... doin'?"

He glanced over to where he'd thought the Stormtroopers had been standing, and he saw something plastered on the alley wall. It was a poster.



By Imperial Decree

WANTED

http://s93860457.onlinehome.us/misc/wantedlorca.jpg

The Apprentice of Po-Ra Honchu

For crimes against the Empire including sedition, insurrection,
possession of illegal weapons, study and practice of unlawful
dogma, assault on Imperial property and personnel, and murder
of Imperial personnel. Report all sightings immediately to the
nearest Imperial office.

Reward (dead or alive) 900.000 Imperial Credits

Kale's mouth came open. He looked back at Lorca and took a few small backwards steps.

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"Damn! Not another one!" Lorca quickly ripped the poster from the wall and scrunched it up in his hands. His face had turned a sickly pale colour.

"Frelling Imps are always putting these things up. Always hunting some poor character. Heh!"

Then he turned to throw the poster in the dumpster and noticed Kale's face. He swallowed hard.

"Kale... what's wrong?"

[Kale]

Kale tried to find the saliva to swallow. He came up empty.

So he smiled sheepishly and put a carefree hand on the back of his neck. "Probably a good thing to take that down, y'know... 'cause some poor sap might see it and think it was talkin' about you."

Oh, frell... Sometimes he really wished he wasn't so clever.

Nine hundred grand...

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"Yeah... well..." Lorca fumbled for the words and tossed the poster into the dumpster.

"I guess he did look a little like me." He said while glancing around the immediate area.

"Let's head back inside and Kale, if you see any of those stupid posters around, rip 'em down. They're more trouble than they're worth."

[Kale]

"Sure," Kale replied. "It don't make a difference to me. I never pay attention to the things anyway."

It wasn't the sort of lie the recipient was supposed to believe. Kale was pretty sure Lorca knew that. Still, he let Lorca lead the way back into the hostel.

The charges leveled on the poster didn't mean much to Kale--they were the sorts of things the Empire said about all their enemies. But even with the murders, the they didn't sound like they added up to nine hundred thousand credits' worth. What was it the poster called him? The Apprentice of Ra-Poncho or something. Kale didn't recognize the name, and he hadn't heard the word "apprentice" since...

Frell, was it even possible? Had he just stumbled over another Forcer? Kale stopped in his tracks, not sure whether to blurt out the question or to run the other way.

When Lorca turned back to see why he had stopped, Kale hesitated, then spoke, cautiously. "Y'know... now that the troops are gone, I don't think I really need to be runnin' off. You say you guys got free room an' board here... well, if there's room, I think maybe I'll stick around a couple days. Y'know, get my bearings."

The question was still throbbing in his mind, pounding to get out, but he bit down on his tongue.

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"Well, I'm pleased to hear that, Kale." Said Lorca, a smile of satisfaction on his face. A man and a woman bustled past them carrying a variety of medical implements. Lorca watched them dissappear down the corridoor then turned back to the boy.

"Of course, things might be a little hectic here tomorrow but that will pass. Most of the severe cases have been dealt with-"

Then he cut himself off suddenly, then he closed his eyes and cursed.

"Kale, I have work to do: there are people who need medical attention. Come with me."

He swiftly navigated the entire length of the corridoor and the next until he came to the room where he and Kale had first met. It was empty inside, Grawl had dissappeared and the floor had been cleaned.

"Take a seat for a minute, Kale, and I'll have someone come here and take you to your room. I'll call by once my shift is over."

And with that, Lorca hurried through the hanging screen and was gone.

[Kale]

"Okay," Kale replied. He wasn't sure quite what he was doing, but he figured he'd at least get a free bed and a few meals out of the deal.

He didn't sit down, though--he looked up and down the small room, tried to peer out the frosted glass window, gave a few laborous turns to the rusty window crank, traced the course of a few heating pipes, inspected a growing water spot on the ceiling. There wasn't much useful information to be gained from the tiny chamber, but he could tell the building was old. He could tell there weren't air ducts large enough to slip through, but there might be maintenance crawlspaces for the embedded light panels and sprinkler heads in the ceiling. Any time Kale was going to be staying in a new place, even just for a couple days, he liked to learn about the building--how many ways there were to get in and out, where the best places were to hide, which rafters and wall studs were enough to hold a person's weight... that sort of trivia had come in handy on more than one occasion.

Then the curtain slid open, and in walked an orange-skinned Twi'lekki female.

"Hello... Kale, is it? Lorca told me to take you to one our spare rooms."

Kale's jaw dropped, and he gaped stupidly for a moment. "Uh... yeah... yeah, that's me."

Amused, she smiled and turned back toward the corridor. "This way, please."

Kale forgot all about his inspection of the building as the Twi'lek led him past the makeshift medical wards and upstairs to the dormitories. She asked him a few questions--what had brought him here, where he lived--really, nothing much Lorca hadn't already asked him. It seemed she didn't know about the close call with the Stormtroopers. On a hunch, Kale decided to ask a few questions of his own.

"Do you know Lorca very well?"

She seemed surprised by the question. "Oh... not very well, but he's friendly to everbody. Why do you ask?"

Kale shrugged. "I'm just a little curious why he's here."

"He wants to help people, I suppose," she replied. "That's why most of us are here."

"They pay doctors better on the upper levels," Kale said.

"Yes, but we're not in it for the credits," she said. "We're here because there are people down here who need our help. Many of us grew up in the undercity. We know what it's like to be hungry and homeless. Others simply are moved by compassion."

Right off the Last Stand informational brochure. This line of questioning wasn't getting Kale anywhere.

"You know anything about those Stormtroopers that were through here earlier?"

She furrowed her brow. "Ah... from what I heard, they were investigating the blast site. I don't know why they came here. One of the nurses thought he heard they were looking for someone."

Kale's stomach sunk. "I wonder if they found 'im."

"I don't really care one way or another, as long as they stay out of our way. They're arrogant, and nosy, and they treat non-humans like..." She stopped suddenly, looking as if she might have said too much. "They do keep the peace, I guess. I just hope whoever they were looking for doesn't come this way. Here we are."

She opened the door to a plain room with two pipe-frame beds, an end table, and a window view. "It's not much, but it's clean. The other bed hasn't been assigned. Would you like a roommate? There's a young man next door who's alone--"

"I'll be fine," Kale broke in. "Thanks for all your help."

She smiled hesitantly. "Of course. See you later, Kale."

She closed the door softly behind her, and Kale sat down on the nearest bed, trying to work out what his next move would be.

[Lorca Dawnstone]

By midnight, Lorca had worked six hours over his standard shift. All around him, faces were pale, eyes were heavy, and mouths were agape. He yawned as he pushed a stretcher carrying an unconcious and mildly burnt man into what was now called Ward C. The lights were dimmed and most patients were asleep. An old woman moaned to herself while the little boy in the bed next to her coughed and spluttered into a bucket. Lorca winced.

"Here we go, Mister Terca." He whispered, easing his patient into a free bed. Carefully he adjusted the bedsheets and ensured the unconcious man would be comfortable. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Lorca, go to bed."

It was Madame Monxi, the new owner of the hostel. She was short and plump and had her bouffant hair restrained by a ridiculous frilly nightcap. She stood in her nightgown and slippers wearing a warm smile. Lorca found the situation a little unnerving, particularly since Madame Monxi had never approached him in the past. Her smile was very sweet indeed. He cleared his throat.

"Madame Monxi..."

"My boy, you were told to get some rest two hours ago, you're shift is over, relax and get some sleep." The lines at the edges of her eyes doubled and she patted him on the shoulder.

"I have given you the day off tomorrow, Lorca."

"No!" he protested. She shushed him and he whispered:

"No, you can't! There's so much that needs to be done here."

"And we can take care of it," she said soothingly.

"Why am I being excluded then?"

"You're not."

Madame Monxi moved in close to him.

"The day after tomorrow, I will have a very important job for you, my boy, and you will need plenty of rest, believe me. Now off you go!"

She patted him on the shoulder once more then stepped back, arms folded and waiting until Lorca gave in and trudged out of the ward in a fashion similar to a child that had just been berated.

Slowly, Lorca made his way to his quarters but halfway there, he paused and checked the time. He turned quickly on his heel and jogged off in the opposite direction.

Five minutes later, he was at Kale's room carrying a tray of food and a mug of hot chocolate. He knocked twice on the door and waited.

[Kale]

Kale was sitting on the bed with his backpack sitting open in his lap. He carried everything he owned inside--a change of clothes, a blanket, a toothbrush, a small kit containing homemade tools of a questionable nature, a compact heating unit that was missing a few parts, a bottle he filled with clean water whenever he got the chance, various maps and brochures of the local city, which he rotated through whenever he moved, a well-used pocketknife, and a couple granola bars.

But there was something else he carried--something he kept tucked in a hidden pouch sewn in the backpack's interior with his meager reserve of credit chits. He was cradling it in his cupped hands now: a smooth, white crystal, eight-sided, a little larger around than his thumb. He buffed it against the clean bedsheets, then rocked it gently back and forth, watching the unearthly way the light from the overhead panels pierced it and rebounded, casting a cluster of glowing spots like stars on the bed and the walls.

It was a strange thing for a Coruscant street boy to carry. It had no monetary value, as far as he knew. In fact, he knew very little about it. He knew its general purpose, but nothing about how it worked. He had kept it out of respect, maybe even out of guilt. It represented a world that was dead now, a world he couldn't be a part of even if he tried. And yet... and yet, somehow, it made him think that, maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than the orphan's life he'd known in the gutters and streets of the Imperial City.

And then the knock at his door shook him out of his ruminations and back to planet Coruscant. He fumbled with the crystal, then shoved it deep into his pocket--he drew out his pocketknife in the same hand and tucked against the small of his back.

"Yeah? Who is it?"

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"It's Lorca!" he called back.

"I've brought you a little something to eat."

[Kale]

"Oh... just a second..."

Feeling sheepish, Kale tucked the pocketknife away again and opened the door. Immediately, his eyes fell on the food, and his stomach rumbled.

"Uh... thanks!" He accepted the tray for Lorca, took it to the end table, and, without warning or preamble, began tearing into the chicken sandwich.

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"I thought you might have been hungry."

Lorca grinned and sat on the spare bed. It creaked and lowered under his weight. He clasped his hands and leaned forward, head lowered and staring at the floor. He sighed.

"It's been a long day. A very strange day. Frelling terrorists!"

He looked up at Kale, who was going to town on what was left of his sandwich, and felt a twinge of guilt.

"I'm sorry I didn't get any food to you earlier. Things have been a bit hectic and my head is spinning."

[Kale]

Kale paused, glancing over at Lorca, and swallowed a mouthful of chicken, lettuce, and bread.

"That's all right, I think the stormtroopers put a hold on my appetite."

Er... dang it. He hadn't meant to bring that up again.

"Listen, uh... sorry I lied to you earlier. About how I got hurt. I just figured it would be easier."

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"I understand." Lorca said, nodding.

"If I were in your position, I would've done the same. It's how you survive down here."

He rubbed his face and fell back onto the bed, eyes closed.

"It's a tough place. How long have you been living like this for?"

[Kale]

Kale hesitated. It wasn't often that anybody expressed interest in his past, and, when they did, they usually had an agenda. But Lorca had already put himself on the line for him.

"Four years," Kale replied. "I move around. Used to live in the Santiago District, then spent some time in the Southern Underground."

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"Heh! All the posh areas, eh?"

Lorca smiled but inwardly, he was troubled. He thought about Kale, a boy of about fourteen years old wandering Coruscant's meanest streets, and surviving. He wondered how long he would last down here were he four years younger.

"It's getting much worse down here. Today's - sorry - yesterday's bombing says it all really. The lower levels are a breeding ground for scum like those terrorists... and a haven for those who don't want to be found."

His eyes sneaked open and he was looking at Kale.

[Kale]

Kale had dropped his eyes back to his food. "Maybe they're the ones the Imperials were lookin' for," he suggested, somewhat emptily. "The only times they come to the lower levels are when they're lookin' for somebody. They don't give a frell about anybody who lives down here, unless there's a price on your head..."

It had slipped out--Kale hadn't even been thinking. He added, "Y'know... like those terrorists."

[Lorca Dawnstone]

Lorca was staring intently at Kale with a hint of pink in his cheeks. His eyes narrowed.

"I see... well, I hope they catch them soon; the terrorists. Some people say they did it because there is talk of civil war. Impossible, I say."

He rested his head back onto the bed and looked at the ceiling.

"Not with Palpatine's iron grip on the galaxy. There's no chance. By the Force, we're living in strange times, Kale. Strange and difficult times."

He yawned and idly traced a finger along the wall behind him.

"What are your plans once you've moved on from here?"

[Kale]

Kale noticed the blush, but he pretended he didn't. Lorca was being awfully patient with him so far. No need to push his luck. Though he was a little curious when his host turned philosophical.

"I'm not really sure," he replied. "I was thinkin' about headin' to the Yangtze District, actually. There's a guy there who owes me a favor, an' he said he could put me up for a while until I find a place of my own. Might even be able to help me find work, too."

He took another bite of his sandwich, hoping to forestall questions of exactly what kind of work he was referring to.

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"Surely there can't be many jobs available to someone your age."

Lorca glanced at Kale again, a curious expression on his face. He frowned.

"How old are you?"

[Kale]

"Fourfthteen," he replied. "Hafftha eatfh fthomehow."

[Lorca Dawnstone]

Lorca nodded.

"So how have you managed to get by so far? And how long have you been fending for yourself?"

[Kale]

Kale paused, then swallowed. He took a drink of juice to moisten his throat.

"I've been fendin' for myself since I lost my mom four years ago," he said bluntly. "I've been doin' what I can since then. Little jobs here an' there, sometimes."

His cheek twitched almost imperceptibly--somehow, he knew Lorca wouldn't believe that was the full story.

"An' when I don't have a choice, I just take what I need."

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"I thought as much. I knew the moment after I had seen your wound when you said that you didn't have any friends or family. So, you're a regular street rat, eh?"

He chuckled and shook his head.

"Fourteen years old. Krast! You're a tough little dren: bet you could go a round or two with a wookiee and still make it out alive after pocketing the very fur off his back."

Lorca laughed out loud this time and sat up. He looked around then stood and made his way over to a sink.

"Ah, don't worry, Kale. We've all been there."

He splashed water over his face and washed the traces of blood out of his hair and fingers.

[Kale]

Kale was surprised. Most of the righteous types got awful huffy when they found out what he did for a living--told him they were sorry for him, but social injustice is no excuse for harming the common good, or some dren like that.

But not only was Lorca not condemning him, he was identifying with him. Trying to, anyway. It was a weird feeling.

"We?" he asked. "You used to live in the Undercity?"

He didn't really think Lorca's story echoed his--it was, he hoped, an indirect way of finding out just how secret Lorca kept his past.

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"Yeah," he began hesitantly.

For a moment, he stood staring in the mirror. He considered his face and the similarities between his reflection and the face on the poster. His fingers locked, he cracked his knuckles and sighed.

"I was down there for six months and it was very tough. Constantly on the move, not knowing where I'll end up - each day, a new problem. That sort of thing."

While he spoke, he slowly backed up against the wall. Then he cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck.

"It's all a big blur now to be honest."

[Kale]

"Sounds familiar," Kale murmured. "A lot of my life seems like a big blur, too."

His sandwich was gone now, and he picked up the apple from the side of his tray. "So how'd you end up here?"

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"As soon as it was safe to leave the undercity, I came up here and searched for a place I could fit in. This place suited me fine and it feels good to be able to help those less fortunate than yourself."

Relaxed, Lorca eased back against the wall and folded his arms. He grinned as Kale took an enormous chunk out of the apple with a single bite.

"It's a good job. Sure, you don't get paid for it but you are provided a bed and three daily meals. What more can you ask for?"

His eyes narrowed and he considered the boy for a moment.

"When you think about it, it's ideal really: a warm bed, a roof over your head, and plenty of food. Would such work interest you, Kale?"

[Kale]

Kale turned and stared at Lorca, wide-eyed. He swallowed and wiped the juice off his mouth.

"You're kidding, right? You want to hire a thief to be a medic? I don't know anything about medicine."

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"Well, not neccessarily a medic. You need some experience and proper training for that but you can be a hired hand around the hostel; cleaning, general maintainance, odd jobs; all that sort of thing."

He yawned and stretched.

"Don't make any quick decisions yet though, but the offer is there. Sleep on it and in the morning, I'll visit and if you're up for the job we can go and speak with Madame Monxi. What do you think?"

[Kale]

Kale furrowed his brow and swept a hand back through his thick, unruly hair. "Well, it... I guess there's nothin' wrong with thinkin' about it."

He looked down at his half-finished meal, and then back at Lorca. The offer of free food and shelter was enticing, he had to admit.

"I'll sleep on it," he said.

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"Good!"

Lorca smiled and stood upright.

"Well, that's me done for the night." He sighed, turning to the door.

"Tomorrow is my day off so I'll call in the morning with some breakfast and we can talk more about that job."

The door crept open and he stood in the opening, looking back at the boy.

"Enjoy the rest of your supper, Kale, and get yourself some rest. Good night."

And he closed the door behind him.

[Kale]

Kale watched Lorca leave, then ravenously finished the rest of his meal. He deposited the apple core and the juice can in the wastebasket in the corner and left the tray and plate on the endtable, then he kicked off his shoes, shut off the light, and burrowed under the bedsheets.

He lay there for a while, watching the reflections of the city lights out the window dancing on the ceiling of his room. His mind was whirling, not only with Lorca's job offer, but with the day's close calls, the poster he'd seen, and memories of words spoken to him by someone who had loved him. Carefully, he dug the white crystal out of his pocket and held it on his chest. It glowed more brilliantly in the darkened room, spreading stars on the ceiling with all the colors of the rainbow.

Finally, he covered the crystal up in his hand and held it close to his chest, and then he drifted off to sleep.

[Lorca Dawnstone]

Lorca made his way up the corridoor with heavy feet. He fought to keep his eyes open as he climbed three flights of stairs, raising a hand in greeting to one of his co-workers on the way. The top floor of the hostel was reserved for employees, it was poorly lit but was furnished with colours and designs much different to the other floors. It was more homely and personal even if the decor was sparce and cheap.

From inside his jacket he pulled out a kewycard and swiped it through a panel next to a brown wooden door. There was a beep and a click: the door swung steadily open of it's own accord. Beyond, Lorca's quarters were no more impressive than Kale's, except the floor and walls were cleaner and there was a wardrobe and a secure foot locker tucked underneath his bed.

"At last..." he sighed, shutting the door behind him with his foot.

Slowly, he approached his unmade bed, and twice crouched to tear his boots away from his feet. A few steps further, he fell forward and crashed on top of his bed, face-down. His arm extended and with a grunt and his last shred of energy, he flicked the light switch and the room turned dark and silent.

[Kale]

Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep--

"Aw, frell, too early..."

Kale's pocketwatch was going off. Of course, it really wasn't a pocketwatch--it was a cheap digital watch that was missing its wristband, so he kept it in his pocket. He usually had the alarm set for 5:50 AM, just to give himself a head start on everyone who got up at 6:00, but he didn't have any reason to get up now. So he pulled the watch out of his pocket, jammed the kill button, and flopped over to sleep a little longer.

It was seven twenty-two when he woke up again, this time to the sound of an ambulance cycling its siren as it skimmed down the street by the hostel, maybe delivering another victim from the bomb site. If he was feeling industrious, he'd probably get up then... look around the place, ask some questions, maybe take a walk around the block to take stock of the local hunting grounds in case he needed a boost in his credit reserves. But then, it had been awfully late when he got to bed. So he buried his head in his pillow.

Next thing he knew, there was a light knock on the door. Kale groggily lifted his head and glanced out the window--the sun was reflecting brightly off the building across the street. His watch said 9:02 AM.

Kale rubbed his eyes and turned himself over again and glanced at the mirror on the door. He was still clad in a gray T-shirt and baggy blue jeans, two articles of clothing that had both seen better days, and his thick, ruddy hair was in a haystack. Quickly, he brushed his hair back with his fingers and sat up. "Uh... door's open," he called.

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"Good morning, Kale."

Once the door was half open, Lorca stepped inside, carefully balancing a tray in his arms. He used his foot to close the door behind him and he approached the bed on which Kale sat. He placed the tray down on the end table and looked up.

"Now, don't get used to this: it's not often you will get breakfast in bed here!" He smiled, and made his way to the free bed and sat down.

"Did you sleep well?"

[Kale]

Food, as always, took precedence. It was force of habit--Kale often wasn't sure when he'd get his next meal, or even if he'd have the opportunity to finish the one he was eating.

So it wasn't until he'd swallowed two spoonfuls of cereal and a large bite of bagel that he turned back to Lorca and said, "Yeah, slept great... except for your buddies with the sirens outside, but other'n that..."

He trailed off with a shrug, then he became oddly pensive for a moment. He had a strange feeling, like there was forgetting something, or missing something.

His left hand crept to check his pockets. "I've been thinkin' about your offer."

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"That's good," he replied.

Lorca had a huge grin on his face, the boy was quite a sight and there was little doubt he'd only just rolled out of bed. He saw a lot of himself in the boy, even down to the ravenous appetite, and he hoped Kale had decided to stay here for a while.

"Sorry about the sirens," he said off-handedly, glancing out of the window.

"You get that a lot around here but you get used to it. Anyway-"

He sat up straight.

"Have you came to a decision about the offer?"

[Kale]

"Um... actually, no," he said. "Not yet. I was hopin' to take a look around the place first, maybe talk to some o' the people, y'know... get a feel for it first. If that's all right. And, for now, well, I don't really have anywhere else I need to get to, or anything else to do. It's just..."

He paused with his spoon in mid-air between the cereal bowl and his mouth. "I heard someone say the stormtroopers were lookin' for someone last night," he said. "Maybe even someone in the hostel."

[Lorca Dawnstone]

His head jerked up and his eyes snapped on the boy. He had been staring at his fingers for a moment when something Kale had said made him jump. He leaned forward.

"Someone in here?" He asked with disbelief.

"Did you hear anything else? Are they looking for a man or a woman? Do you think it could be you they're looking for? What did the person who you overheard look like?"

[Kale]

Kale shook his head. "That was all I heard. It was a Twi'lek girl, orange skin. She was the one who showed me up here. But they're not lookin' for me. At least... I don't think they are."

He furrowed his brow as he scrolled back through his memory. "I lifted a wallet from an Imperial plainclothesman. As soon as I saw the crest on his I.D., I grabbed the creds and dropped the rest. there wasn't even that much money... fifty creds. They don't send stormtroopers after fifty creds."

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"No," he said, staring vacantly at the wall behind Kale. "No, they don't."

For a moment, he festered deep in his thoughts, oblivious to the boy who had resumed devouring his breakfast. Then he snapped out of it and looked back at Kale with a reassuring nod.

"Well, I check it out, just in case." He smiled. "You can never be too sure, eh?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Lorca saw something under the bed, a speck of light amongst the dark, glimmering in the gloom.

[Kale]

"If you find anything, could you let me know?" Kale asked. "Y'know, just in case..."

Suddenly, Kale remembered sleeping with the crystal in his hand. Krasst--what had he done with it?

"Uh, 'scuse me..." He stood up and checked his pockets. Then he picked up his backpack and rifled through the compartments, even the secret flap inside the front pouch.

He scanned the floor as far as he could see, growing anxious. "I, uh... I think I dropped something."

[Lorca Dawnstone]

Lorca was already on his knees, rummaging around under Kale's bed.

"I think I have found something. Just a second."

His fingers wrapped around something small and smooth and he pulled away from the bed. He glanced down at the object in his hand.

"Is this what you were..."

He cut himself off and held his breath, staring in awe at the crystal shimmering in his dusty palm. For a moment he was silent then slowly looked up at Kale. He gazed at him intently and spoke breathlessly.

"How did you get this?"

[Kale]

Kale's face turned pale. "Hey--give that back. It's mine!"

His hand darted forward to snatch it out of Lorca's grasp, but he stopped himself part-way.

"Please," he added.

[Lorca Dawnstone]

When Kale's hand reached out, Lorca's fingers closed around the crystal and he held tight. His wide eyes narrowed and he pulled himself up onto the edge of the bed.

"Kale, this is an Agedan crystal," he whispered and leaned forward, his voice now filled with excitement.

"Do you have any idea how rare these are?"

[Kale]

"Yeah, I do," he replied irritably. "It's the only one I have."

And then a change came over his face. He stared at Lorca in wonder.

"Holy frell... you... you know what it is! You... you've seen those before."

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"Yeah! Loads of times!" He began enthusiasitcally, then his face changed and he cleared his throat.

"Well... on Holonet, of course!"

He smiled sheepishly, rolling the crystal between his thumb and forefinger. He gazed at it with affection from time to time.

"So... so how did you get your hands on this?"

[Kale]

Kale fidgeted nervously on the edge of his bed. There was a lot riding on how he chose to answer.

"If I tell you," he said slowly, "I want to be able to ask you a question. A yes-or-no question. That's all I want. So if I tell you, will you let me ask?"

[Lorca Dawnstone]

Lorca was silent for some time while he stared at the crystal in his hands. It dotted his hands with brilliant white specks of light. He sighed.

"Yes."

[Kale]

Kale nodded, and swallowed. Then he took a deep breath and leaned forward so he could keep his voice low.

"The crystal was a gift from my mom. It was one of the last things she gave me before she... before she disappeared. The crystal was from her lightsaber. She was a Jedi."

So he'd taken the plunge. Not bothering to check how Lorca had reacted, he rolled on. "She told me about the Purge. How Darth Vader came to the Jedi Temple and exterminated them. She said she escaped with one of the knights and a group of other padawans. And, after a while, she settled back on Coruscant, in the lower levels. That's where I was born. On my tenth birthday... I think she knew somethin' was gonna happen. She gave me that. She told me to keep it safe. Five days after that, she was taken. I don't know who did it.

"I know she gave me the crystal for a reason. She told me. She said there were other Jedi out there, that they were in hiding. And if I met one, I could show that crystal to him, and he'd recognize it and help me. So this is my question, Lorca. Are you... a Jedi?"

Kale lifted his head and looked straight into Lorca's eyes, fearful, but determined.

[Lorca Dawnstone]

By the time the question was asked, Lorca's eyes were closed, he knew it had been coming but with Kale's last word, he visably flinched. His eyes opened and he looked to the door, then to the window, and finally to the boy. A bead of sweat trickled down his brow.

"I am," he said almost inaudibly, and nodded.

Then he extended his hand and placed the crystal in Kale's palm and stood. He started pacing the room.

"I had a feeling this was going to happen. Ahh!"

He shook his head, placed his face in his hands and huffed.

[Kale]

Kale took the crystal back breathlessly. He stared at Lorca with eyes of wonder.

He was frightened. Not of Lorca, but of the giant step he'd just taken.

"Listen," he said, "I didn't bring the stormtroopers here. I don't think so, anyway. They've got no reason to be after me. They don't know that--"

He cut himself off. Then he figured he might as well jump in with both feet.

"They don't know that I have the power, too."

[Lorca Dawnstone]

When his hands were pulled away from his face, Lorca was looking down at Kale with a warm familiar smile; the kind of smile you would expect off a kindly old grandfather. It was the look of understanding and he crouched down in front of him while he was sat on the bed.

"That's good, Kale. That's very good."

Now his smile was a broad toothy grin and he laughed.

"So, this is what he was talking about!"

He saw the expression on Kale's face and elaborated, more hushed now.

"My master told me that I would one day find someone like me and will continue to study the Jedi arts."

He shook his head with a glint of excitement in his eyes.

"I do not believe our encounter was a product of mere chance, Kale. It was the will of the Force!"

[Kale]

Kale's ears tingled. He felt like he'd just stepped through the looking glass.

He shivered, and then laughed to cover his nerves. "Think so? Then the Force has a pretty funny way of doin' things."

Then he grew thoughtful. "Your master... his name was on that poster. Po-Ra Honcho... or somethin'."

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"Po-Ra Honchu was his name," he said.

"Those stormtroopers were after me today, Kale. And if it weren't for you noticing them when you did, I'd probably be either in shackles, on the run again, or dead. So, thanks."

He stood and took a seat on the bed again.

"You're right. The Force does have a funny way of doing things, but it brought us together, didn't it?"

[Kale]

Kale shrugged. He'd never really expected to find a genuine Jedi in hiding, but he found this idea of destiny a little hard to swallow.

"Well, you're welcome," he said uncertainly. "That... that's happened before. I get a tingle when danger's comin'... like somebody's shovin' a bunch of cold needles into the back of my neck. My mom always told me it was the Force lookin' out for me. I always thought it coulda done a better job."

His head drooped. "Maybe it shoulda been lookin' out for her."

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"A lot of good people have been lost because of the Empire, Kale. A lot of good Jedi."

Giving the boy some room, Lorca retreated to the other bed and took a seat once more. He stared at Kale while he wasn't looking and wondered about his past; the loss of his mother and the uncertainty of his future; all resting on the shoulders of a lonely ten year old boy. He leaned in a little.

"Well, I'm sure your mother is looking out for you, Kale. She is watching over you just like my parents and master are watching over me. I believe the ones that love us never really leave us."

He was silent for a second and tried to encourage a response from him.

"Don't you think?"

[Kale]

Kale slowly lifted his eyes. "She's gone," he said. "I don't know if she's dead. The Stormtroopers arrested her and took her to the Imperial Palace. I tried to follow them there, and..."

A very cold look passed over Kale's face, and he squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered.

"Either way, she's outa my reach. I don't know if she's watchin' over me or not. No one else ever stuck by me."

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"I will," Lorca said bluntly.

"We need to stick together now, Kale, and look out for each other. There aren't many like us left in the galaxy and we owe it to them; to your mother and my master. Kale..."

He paused, and stared at the boy.

"Do you want to be a Jedi?"

[Kale]

Kale looked at Lorca as if he was not sure he'd heard him properly. "Me? A Jedi?"

He took a few deep breaths and tried to make sense of several trains of thought all crashing at once in his brain. "My mother taught me a little about the Force, an' I know a few tricks, but I don't really understand them. I'm always afraid they won't work when I need them to, or that I'll lose control of them somehow. An' with the Order gone, I always figured I'd never meet somebody who'd be able to help me make sense of it. Are you... are you sayin' you could help me?"

[Lorca Dawnstone]

"I can help you learn the ways of the Force," he said, nodding.

"However, there's a lot I still have to learn. I trained for four years in secret until the Imperials caught us out. Six months on and I've never used the Force unless I've had no other choice, so I may be a bit rusty but I can teach you everything I know. Would you like that?"

[Kale]

Kale took several long breaths, trying to work out how he would answer.

"I... yeah... I think I would."

His head spun with the implications of what he'd just said.

"But what is a Jedi supposed to do, now that there isn't any Order to serve, or a Republic to fight for? Isn't studyin' our powers just askin' for trouble?"

[Lorca Dawnstone]

For a moment, Lorca was silent, his face twisted in thought. His eyes weren't on Kale now, he was looking at the floor as if to find the answer and he shook his head.

"You know, I really don't know," he confessed.

"Po-Ra never told me why he was instructing me in the Jedi arts. I never asked. After Alderaan was destroyed, the Jedi way was all I knew; it was all we had left. My master died before he could disclose his plans but I feel the need to continue whatever he started. It's just a part of me."

He looked back at Kale.

"Just like it's a part of you!"

[Kale]

Lorca's answer didn't exactly fill him with confidence.

Kale indeed had the desire to learn more about his powers, but his own reasons didn't sound all that noble to him. The Force was an advantage--one of the very few advantages he'd ever had. But it was also a vast unknown. Ignorance led to fear, fear led to hesitation, and hesitation, for a thief, could be fatal.

"It's a part of me, all right," he murmured. "It's a part I don't really know what to do with. It feels like it belongs in a completely different world. But..." He shook his head. "I dunno. I figure my mom had a reason for teaching me what she did. I figure she meant for me to continue learnin', too. She always seemed to think things would get better. That it'd be safe for Jedi again. But I don't see how it can be... as long as the Emperor hates us."

Us... that was weird. He'd never identified himself with anybody before.