Yahs'n

[Lamar Starworth]

Yahs'n

Stories come.

Stories go.

What sort of stories they are matters though. Some stories can last forever. Some stories can last a conversation. Folks tend to remember the best and worst tales. Uncle Joe’s game-winning shot back in his Academy days or that sexy girl that the best friend hooked up with on a road trip all fall under stories. They aren’t stories in the legitimate sense, but stories nonetheless. From the fairy-tales before bed, to the chronicles in HoloNet, stories have long been known to bring to life something distant and far, far away…like a galaxy with laser swords and small pointy-eared critters.

However, these stories that will be told aren’t so distant as they are long ago. Sort of like, well…

…Once upon a time ago, in a galaxy not so far, far away, there was a nomad tribe without name, given the title Yahs’n. They had a many of tales, and a many of stories. In this collection, all will be told. So, keep your eyes wide, ears open, as we dive into that which was, was not, and will forever be.




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[Nadii]

The Wind and The Water Fighting

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The wind is a woman, and the water is a woman too and they love to talk together. Mrs. Wind use to go sit down by the ocean and talk and patch and crochet. Mrs. Wind and Mrs. Water were just like all lady people, talking about their children and bragging on them.

Mrs. Water would say, “Look at my children! I got all kinds; the biggest and the littlest in the world. Every color in the world and every shape!”

The wind lady bragged louder than the water woman: “Oh, but I got more different children than anybody in the world. They fly, walk, swim; they sing they talk, they cry. They got all the colors from the sun. Lord, my children sure are a pleasure. Nobody has babies like mine, nobody.”
Tired of hearing about Mrs. Wind’s children, Mrs. Water got so she hated them. One day a whole bunch of Mrs. Wind’s children came to her and said: “Mama, were thirsty. Can we get a cool drink of water?”

She said, “Yeah, children. Run on over to Mrs. Water, but hurry right back.”

When those children went to quench there thirst Mrs. Water grabbed them all and drowned them.

When her children didn’t come home, the wind woman got worried. So she went on down to the water and asked for her babies. “Good evening, Mr.
Water. Have you seen my children today?” The water woman told her, “No-oo-oo.”

Mrs. Wind knew her children had come down to Mrs. Water’s house, so she passed over the ocean calling her children, and every time she called the white feathers would come up on top of the water. And that’s how come we got whitecaps on waves. It’s the feathers coming up when the wind woman calls her lost babies.

When you see a storm on the water, it’s the wind and the water fighting over those children.

About that time a flea wanted to get a haircut, so I left.

---

The wind learned to dance long ago. She and the worlds have danced many times before, but every time she outdoes them. One day the wind came prancing through Ord Mantell, and had brought a friend. The friend’s name was Nadii. Both came from far off places. The wind had boogied many times with Worlport streets and Ten Mile Plateau, and made it all the more comfortable for Nadii’s first time on the strange planet.

All sorts of alien faces felt Mrs. Wind come flying through, with only a few occasionally giving the eye to her buddy. Nadii moved slower than her guide through the street, almost lost in the bustle. Everyone seemed to be in a rush. Even Mrs. Wind seemed to be going nowhere fast. All the market patrons, spacers, and commoners danced in Nadii’s eyes with her friendly comrade, the wind.

Mrs. Wind had just recently invited her to meet up on the world.

Before the wind had taken her off to the Outer Rim; not exactly the safest place in the galaxy, although one of the most fun. The hustlers, dealers, businessmen sunk into one title of citizen. Every single person seemed to be out for themselves. Slavers even tried to capture the wind, and take all the freedom of the land on some planets. Meanwhile, on other worlds the slugs licked their chops at the possibility of rule. There were more seedy joints than any other ports in the galaxy, and Nadii was right in the middle of it.

She couldn’t complain. She sort of liked being around those type of people, they’re pretty interesting characters.

However she was here now.

Why?

‘Because the wind told her to come here’ would be the easy answer, but it was a longer story than that. Nadii, and her people, were attuned to the Force. In her family, and in her teachings, there was always an affinity to the Living Force. A being must feed off instincts. Think not, do much, and simply live. Fates and destiny were simply bendable words that could be re-defined. No one knew the way of Miss Wind for all, but no one should. All anybody should know was the way of themselves, and all else would be spelled out.

So, the best answer for Nadii’s little rendezvous with the wind on Ord Mantell was to see what trouble she could get into. Word had it that the ports were being handled by a gambit entangled in some fishy…or better yet, sluggy business. The Hutts had put the man on the payroll, and in turn there was more human resource cargo coming through. In more particular terms though, they were working a slave ring through the planet, and Nadii was up to stop it.

[Ira]

“Move!”

The boy toppled over. The earth kissed his cheek rough and hard. Scrapes pattern his elbow with sand. A frown was all he could summon. His legs were weak, and his eyes red with dust. Above stood a mother, her hands strong and soul weary. They had been struggling for a while. Between the stray blades of grass and rocky soil danced a fleet of troops. Decked in unmixed white, they bleached the scene, leaving only a matter of red and blue from their black weapons. Colors splashed over as a singing sizzle popped through the litter of faces. Men flung behind anything.

Everything became an obstruction.

The small huts burned with the buzzing bolts, and a quiet jolted through. Disturbed and restrained, the men and women sprawl across the tundra behind rocks, walls, little houses and crevices. The unexpected had come. Few had encountered such menace, and those that had were uncertain why they had again. An unsettling vibe roared through as their ears heard nothing.

Something was terribly right about all this.

Some frowned as their eyes peaked over and around, watching, scrutinizing, observing. The men behind the white trotted with purpose. Solemn tears trickled down the young as they leaned by their tall parents. Lean, and in their prime, they were ready for it all. Few spoke, it was mostly a hush. Nobody was truly scared, but something shifted around in their guts.

This hurt.

The boy stared up, watched. Through the red, he saw more. It was the red bolt, and the red juice that came after. The boy hadn’t seen either before, but he had heard the voice many times. It was the voice when she was telling him something meaningful, something serious, something he should listen to.

“Ira…I love---“

More red bolts.

He ran.

He survived.