The Face of the Past

Two weeks ago he'd been happy and mostly content on Nar Shadaa. No one bothered him unless he wasnted them to, and no one pushed in on him any more than needed. He ran his hustles and did his rounds, and paid the fixers who were in positions higher than himself. It was a good racket, and kept good clothes on his back and good food in his belly. Not to mention the liquor and women. He had a thing for Twi'Leks, but then again who didn't? Those nimble, bedy creatures that were just what he always wanted.

His outfit had been a success, though mostly because he never crossed those who could've had him offed without a second thought. No, he kept those ones happy. It was just good for business that way. Not to mention it was great for the ability to stay breathing. He'd heard enough stories of jokers who'd gotten caught trying to cheat their way up, and those guys were hardly ever found. Sometimes a finger would show up, or a foot. But everyone else knew that the rest of the body was more than likely encased in formed durracrete and part of some new construction project.

Two weeks ago he'd been sitting in a chair, with Alia Samari giving him every last bit of the sort of attentions that he had ever wanted in life. She was good at her job, too, and he'd had a small glass of Chandrilan brandy in one hand as his other rested so gently atop one of her lekku. The small table beside his chair had held a shallow bowl, half-filled with sansanna spice. It had never been his fancy, but Alia loved it, and so long as she satisfied him, he was willing to feed her addictions.

Two weeks ago he'd never would've thought that now, he would be on Ossus.

* * *

Stepping off the civilian transport, he reached up to straighten his collar, blinking up into the clear sky above.

The powers that be had told him he needed to come here. That there was someone there he needed to meet. Why they insisted he had no idea, only that when the Boss said go, you went.

He'd not been sent in without some manner of context though, and truth be told, when that context had been explained to him, coming to Ossus made a lot of sense. He'd been given a name. Whether it was true or not, he knew better than to question it. He'd been told to right an old wrong.

Zeno Hagen was here to collect on an old debt.

Zeno Hagen was here for his father.

The cataloguing project at the Great Library was going well.

Master Vymes toured the interior of the ancient structure, impressed with the recent changes. Dust and detritus had been cleaned away. Books were arrayed in shelves both old and new alike. Some of the more delicate works had been placed in illuminated cases to prevent further decay. Overhead, permanent lighting had replaced the portable units which had helped with the early work.

Banks of data terminals were new entries, in a bid not just to modernize the ancient library, but also to preserve what was written before time could fully obliterate it. Each text was to be scanned into electronic format - a process that could take easily two years to complete. Two padawans worked daily on this task, and as Zem toured the library grounds, he saw they were both engrossed in their duty.

But while having a computerized Jedi archive would be useful, Zem relished this moment of heavy, well-aged books. There was something important in feeling the same pages the authors once penned over. Busying himself in one aisle, Zem quickly narrowed down his search to a single book. Free of dust but smelling pleasantly of age, the book was pulled free from the shelf. Zem carefully opened the Histories of the Nymari, wondering not for the first time if he was the first person in thousands of years to attempt to read it.

Unfortunately, that task would have to wait. Zem closed the book almost as soon as it was opened. He felt the presence of an approaching Padawan moving with a purpose, namely, to find him.

"Can I help you?"

"Please escuse ze eenterruption, Master." Syna Etandi bowed as she came to a stop, giving a bow as she did. Her pink lekku drooped down with the motion, and she quickly righted herself. "Zere ees a man looking for 'oo."

Zem raised an eyebrow. He tucked the book under his arm.

"Very well, take me to him."

Seemed the Jedi were doing well here. Word traveled always, and the news that seemed to filter around was that the Jedi were plugging along with the help of the Alliance, and had found themselves a new planet. Their little outpost was quaint, though nothing like the sorts that he'd grown used to back on Nar Shadaa. Here it looked to be nature and... well... whatever it was that went along with that. Harmony? Good vibrations and healing touches?

Whatever it was, he was here now.

Sitting in some outside cobbled-together cafe of sorts, Zeno held a mug of caf loosely in one hand, the other busying itself with idly twirling a credit chit between its fingers.

A light green Twi'Lek passed by him, and he angled his head to watch her continue on her way. His eyes lingered on her backside before returning to the caf in front of him. Speaking of good vibrations and healing touches...

Scowling, he brought his drink up to sip.

He'd been told that it would be best to wait here, and so that was what he would do.

"Meester 'Agen?"

Syna returned to the cafe, along with a hooded figure standing behind her.

"Master Vymes ees 'ere."

The Twi'lek stepped aside as Zem drew back his hood.

The scowl was instantly gone, replaced by a flash of a smile as he rose to stand up. The credit chit was stuffed into one of the front pockets of his slacks, and his caf left on the table so he could extend a hand in greeting to the Jedi Master.

"Well!"

The old man matched the holos he'd been shown. Hells, he'd even seen a few holos from back in the day, when Vymes had been on Nar Shadaa. A lot younger, that was for sure. Plenty of folks from those days said he was a dead ringer for the man, but Zeno had always brushed them off. When Mekhi Two-Toes Cassalora brought it up, you listened.

And you listened well.

The aging head of the Lakuusenia Family was starting to call in a lot of favors, and those who owed him didn't get the luxury of simply... not paying.

And it was Zeno's job to make sure things got settled. Apparently, the old Arkanian had a long memory, which was what meant a trip to Ossus was on the list.

"Master Vymes! Pleasure to meet you."

The man before him was unfamiliar, but the Nar Shaddaan brogue he spoke with certainly was.

"A pleasure likewise, I'm sure. I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, however, Mister...Hagan?"

Vymes glanced back to the Padawan, who offered no other explanation. He returned his attention to his guest.

"How may I help you?"

Zeno gave a smile as he returned to his seat.

"We can get to that later," he gestured to the chair opposite him, hoping that the Jedi Master would join him.

"Please, sit down. Can I get you a caf?"

The smile faded on Zem's face somewhat, but he didn't abdicate good manners. Taking a seat opposite Hagan, Zem dismissed Syna with a gesture.

"I take mine black, thank you."

The initiative was on Hagan, so Zem simply laced his fingers together in front of him and waited for the man to speak his mind.

A whispy-bodied server floated her way close, and Zeno ordered for the Jedi before he turned back to the older man.

Fishing in the shirt pocket of his loose button up shirt, he pulled out a slim, gold-plated case. It was opened, and a single stim removed. Snapping his case shut, he didn't bother offering, since he was sure that Master Vymes did not smoke.

"I'm not really here because I want to be," he started, lighting the tip and pulling in a deep lungful of smoke. He exhaled upwards, watching as the cloud of blue smoke whorled around itself and up to dissipate in the sky above.

"My employer asked me to come looking for you. He said I might have a bit of better luck in actually talking with you."

The case was returned to his pocket, and at the same time as he slid it back into the silky confines, he pulled out an obviously old and creased piece of stock paper. It was folded, and he regarded it for a few seconds before laying it on the table. The server returned with Master Vymes' caf, setting it in front of him with a mumbled hope that he enjoyed it. And then the server was gone.

Zeno met the Jedi's eyes, allowed him at least a moment to take a first sip, then he methodically slid the folded photo across the table.

As Master Vymes unfolded the picture, showing an old snapshot of an older model speeder, a grey-haired Mekhi 'Two-Toes' Cassalora, and another... a much younger Zem Vymes holding the speeder's back door open, Zeno asked his next question.

"You know the men in that old picture?"

The change in Zem's expression was subtle, but it was there. A downturn of his lips, a ponderous blink. The Jedi carefully folded the picture again, sliding it back across the table.

"From a long time ago."

There was something in this moment the Force was trying to tell him, and it unsettled the Jedi Master.

"When I was someone else."

"Mekhi says you were the best driver he ever had," Zeno mused as he took back the picture.

Another folded - and equally old - picture was pulled out. A smiling brunette came into view as Zeno unfolded it himself and slid it to the Jedi Master.

"What about her? You remember her?"

The picture of a woman took Zem back almost thirty years, to dirty streets in a vertical city.

"I remember her."

Memories of late nights came easily. A woman shielding herself from runoff rain under an awning.

"She used to work at a consignment shop. Closed up late. Took the sky bridges back home to a single room tenement. I didn't like it when she walked home by herself at night."

It was a strange smile that he gave then, and Zeno leaned back in his seat. He took another drag from his stim, another level off his caf.

"Good," he finally said.

The mug was set down on the table, and he casually tapped a measure of ash to the ground. He refrained from reclaiming the old photo, instead letting the Jedi Master keep it in front of him.

"Had to make sure you're the one I was told to find, you know."

It was still mostly pleasantries, for the time being.

"Old Jeeno talked big about you, and her, " he gestured to the photograph with his stim-hand.

"He died, you know. Ten turns back."

The news didn't surprise Zem. He also didn't pry into the how of it.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

The news seemed to etch the wrinkles deeper into the old man's face. He stared at his caf for a moment in silence.

"He was a friend of mine."

Zem returned his eyes to his guest. In the span of a minute he'd exhumed memories of a past the Jedi had considered buried deep.

"Lonia's dead too, isn't she?"

His tongue ran over his bottom teeth as he regarded the Jedi Master.

"For fifteen turns, now."

Taking a long pull from his stim, Zeno held the smoke in for a few seconds before expelling it once more.

"Took a blasterbolt meant for Mekhi."

Again he spoke of the old Arkanian, which only served to lead into the next topic of discussion. But, he at least allowed a bit of silence so that Vymes could digest the circumstances of Lonia's death. It wasn't a long pause, however; only long enough to sip from his caf and tap another measure of ash to the ground.

"Mekhi would like to see you again."

And the reason revealed itself. Zem's grief was dulled by the years, but he still grieved. But even then, he couldn't dwell in that emotion. Mekhi. Of course there was a reason.

He sighed, tracing a finger over the rim of his mug.

"I can't see him."

"Sigñoré didn't send me here to ask."

A light groan, and Zeno leaned forward to rest both elbows on the table, one hand extending fingers to tap on the sanded planks that made of the table-top.

"You used to do odd jobs for him, so you should know how this works."

The stim was extinguished along the table's edge, and he carefully set the crumpled filter next to his cup of caf. There was no malice in his features, and no angry tone to his voice. Instead, when he spoke next, it was with an honesty that brushed aside the trappings of the Jedi's titles.

"Growing up, I was always told you were a smart guy, Mr. Vymes."

Deep hazel eyes bored into the man sitting across from him.

"Do the smart thing."

Zem also leaned forward to rest his elbows.

"I met Mekhi on another world, in another time. What I did for him, I did to survive. But you're right, I am a smart guy. I was smart enough to see what was happening, and I was smart enough to take another path."

Still, the Jedi Master couldn't fully close the door.

"You have your oaths. I had - and have always had mine. A man cannot serve two masters, Mr. Hagen. All your Sigñoré can be to me is a friend. That is the only way I can see him."

He made a pained face, looking down to his caf.

"I'm not going to threaten you. It would be a bad idea to do that here. But I can tell you that the Family can reach you. Me being here is a gesture."

A hand shifted then, to wrap around his mug.

"I was sent because Mekhi thought that I'd be able to convince you... "

His offhand moved forward then, to tap a finger on the photo of Lonia.

"... since Lonia is my mother."

A glint of recognition appeared in Zem's eyes, contrasted with the frown on his face.

"I thought so. You have her eyes."

It was a shame that Lonia couldn't escape. Her circumstances had been different than his. Even though they walked the same path for a while, when it came time for his opportunity to leave, too many things kept her where she was. It was one of Zem's many failures.

"Out of respect for your mother, I'll see Sigñoré - as a friend. That is all I can do."

The slight frown was there, though quickly banished. He'd at least gotten Mr. Vymes to agree to come back to Nar Shaddaa.

"You have a ship you can use? Or is public transport acceptable enough?"

Old Mekhi could've certainly sent a ship of his own, but apparently he'd felt it best to have Zeno make his own way here, to Ossus. As well, the same for getting back to the Vertical City.

"I was a pilot before I came to Nar Shaddaa. I'm a pilot long after, as well."

* * *

The RZ-1T A-Wings in the limited Jedi motorpool were useful boons for teaching aspiring Padawans how to be star pilots. They also helped certain old Jedi Masters with incurable wanderlust to shake the surly bonds of planetary life and to live among the clouds and stars. Vymes led his guest to the hangar, singling out one with a bold blue and gold livery.

"Back seat first, Mr. Hagen." Zem deferred, gesturing to the open hatch cockpit. The trainers could seat two, but it wasn't exactly roomy.

It was a tight fit, all things told. Zeno wasn't entirely uncomfortable, but he also knew that this small cockpit would be cramped by the end of the trip. He wasn't going to complain though, since the real test had been getting the Jedi Master to agree to return to Nar Shaddaa. Whatever Mekhi wanted him for, he'd not been told. It didn't really worry him much though, as it was only a matter of time before he'd be told.

He settled as best as he could, shifting slightly in his seat. Well, 'seat' was a generous thing to call it, really.

"Don't suppose there's a drink service," he mumbled with a slightly amused tone to his voice.

Zem simply replied with a knowing grin before taking the pilot's seat himself.

"The Jedi encourage you to find meaning in living simply. I trust you'll manage."

The cockpit lowered over them, hermetically sealing with a hiss of displaced air. Vymes worked the pre-flights, causing the entire fighter the thrum with the pent-up power in its small frame. Within a moment the repulsors were on, the skids were up, and the A-wing was under its own power, cruising out of the hangar under maneuvering thrust until clear. Once they met sky, Zem fed the throttle. The engines picked up an orange glow as twin thrust cones pushed the fighter to escape velocity with speed.

Continued here...